The Dilgar War
by Lord of Misrule
Summary: It was the event that started it all. Thirty years before Babylon 5 the Dilgar race launched an Invasion of League space, a war which would cost Billions of lives, whole races destroyed and at the end give birth to a new super power The Earth Alliance
1. Chapter 1

A disclaimer- Babylon 5 and all names and events associated with it do not belong to me, and I seek no profit from this story

**The Dilgar War**

Prologue

**'Deathwalker'**

Steel slid apart from the doorway opening the way to the corridor beyond. The broad figure stepped through to the snapped salutes of guards which he acknowledged as honour demanded, then continued on his way down between the grey walls and plain recycled air.

On his journey he had time to reflect on the nature of life and duty, and he came to a simple conclusion; war was the natural state of the galaxy. At one time or another someone somewhere was trying to kill someone else. It was the way of things, the violence of life and the one constant across any civilization, the need to kill others. He found it comforting that he was not alone in his wish to annihilate his enemies.

While small wars were constant sometimes there would be a war of huge proportions, one which affected everyone and changed the very nature of the galaxy and its civilizations, two weeks ago one such war had started and today this great warrior would learn the secrets of victory. He stepped through another door into a chamber and was greeted by two more guards.

"I have come to speak with the prisoner." He intoned with sharp and precise tones.

"Sir, we were not informed of your arrival." The leading guard says. "The prisoner may only be seen if…"

"I have no need to explain myself to lower ranked warriors." He interrupted with a sneer. "Open the door, then switch off all monitoring equipment and leave."

The guards looked at each other and shared an awkward moment of indecision, but then with a quick nod and salute decided the orders were clear and legitimate and deactivated the security systems and headed for the door.

"When should we return sir?" the leader asked before finally departing.

"I shall call upon you, until then I am not to be disturbed."

With a last nod of acknowledgement the guards left, and the officer was sealed alone in the chamber, his gaze fixed on the strong door ahead. Bizarrely the air seemed to grow colder, if he concentrated he could swear he saw his exhaled breath mist before his eyes for a brief moment, but with a snort dismissed such irrelevancies, he was here with a mission and the goal of which sat beyond the door. With quick deliberate strides he stepped up to the portal and opened it.

"Do the Minbari not knock anymore?" a female voice said from within the room in perfect warrior caste dialect.

"I do not need to announce myself to anyone." The strongly build warrior stated. "You have stayed at our expense for a long time, now you will give something back."

"I see the legendary hospitality of the warrior caste is as vibrant as ever." The female said. "You want to know about humans."

The warrior shifted his stance. "How did you know that?" he growled.

"I have my means." She purred. "The humans have attacked you, killed the great leader Dukhat, and now you are at war."

The woman stepped out into the open, her quarters were spacious extending for seven separate rooms in this secret facility hidden amongst the outer colonies of Minbar. She occupied a blurry twilight between being considered a guest and a prisoner, while not restricted by her hosts she could never show her face in public ever again and as such remained in her quarters under guard.

"Alyt Neroon, I thought I recognised the voice." She smiled, it did not look in the least warm.

"You fought the humans before, and I want to know your insights." Neroon said calmly.

"I was under the impression that the warrior caste was dismissive of humans, that Victory was merely two or three months away?" she continued to smile at Neroon.

"They are unimpressive." Neroon agreed. "Their ships are slow, they cannot hit us even up close and our weapons cleave their ships like a sword cuts water."

"How very grand for you." The woman said with amusement. She took a bottle from a low table and poured herself a drink, the whiff of alcohol coming from the concoction revolted Neroon, deep down he felt it was supposed to, that she was mocking him.

"Let me tell you a secret," she said as she sprawled on a long couch. "This war will last longer than three months, the humans are unlike any enemy you have fought before, even in the face of hopelessness they will not give up. Come," she gestured at a chair, "sit."

Neroon moved slowly to the chair, taking in the room around him as he settled down. It was plain, the same colour as the hallways out side with little in the way of decoration or personality. Books, scrolls and data crystals were stacked or gathered liberally throughout the quarters and wall mounted display screens were surrounded by hand written notes, the scribblings of the occupant. The only thing which really drew his attention was a picture hanging on the wall opposite the display screens, an orbital image of a green and blue planet. The woman noticed his gaze.

"Omelos." She named the world wistfully. "My home, long since gone but still close to my heart."

"You have a heart?" Neroon said coldly.

She shot him a hard stare. "Do not insult me warrior." She snarled. "I loved my world and my people, that love was so great it outweighed all other concerns, even genocide was nothing next to ensuring my people survived! When your back is to the wall you fight with any means at your disposal, as you will see when you press the humans."

"We will burn there worlds and annihilate their fleets." Neroon gave a predators stare to the woman. "When we are done the name Human will be known only to scholars of history."

"Like the name Dilgar?" she asked. With a sigh she took a sip of the drink, leaving the room in silence until she lowered the glass and regarded the warrior again "If you are so confident of victory why are you here?"

"I am a true warrior." Neroon said. "And a true warrior knows his enemy, whoever that may be. We have some intelligence from the Centauri, if that is not a contradiction in terms, but in my experience to truly know an opponent one must fight them."

"So this is why you are here? I was right." She grinned. "The great hope of the Star riders clan wants my help." She snickered.

"Great hope?" Neroon frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I know ambition when I see it." She replied. "You wish to learn human tactics and strategies from me, then deliver great victories with that knowledge, to increase your glory and prestige in the warrior caste and rise up through the ranks." She leaned back and giggled a little. "Setai Neroon does have quite a ring to it."

"I want to know how they fight." He ignored her last comments. "I want to know how they defeated your people with inferior weapons, the tactics they used and the vigour with which they fought."

"All of that is irrelevant." She said bluntly. "How they fight is not nearly as important as why they fight. They did not beat us though superior weapons or tactics, although they exhibited great cunning, they were effective fighters because they were fighting for a noble cause."

"What cause was that?"

"To defeat evil." She answered. "to stop the genocide and save the league, to drive back the Dilgar and end our murderous ways." She scoffed and took another drink. "And now they fight for their own survival. They will make you bleed."

"If I wanted your opinion I would give it to you." Neroon snapped. "What I want are facts. I do not know exactly what arrangement you have with the clan elders which keeps you here, but I can have you on a ship for league space in half an hour if you do not cooperate."

"Such fragile pride." She sighed. "I will help you with your quest for power Alyt Neroon, and I ask you to remember my help because there is a price, a favour for the future." She smiled widely. "Besides, its been a while since I told my story to another, I rather look forward to it."

Neroon remained in his chair, it seemed he would have to endure her posing and hot air to get the information he needed, it was however a small sacrifice. "Very well, where shall we start?"

"Right at the beginning." She answered. "You want to know how the humans won the Dilgar war, then you must understand everything about that time. Can I offer you a drink?"

He sneered at the offer, to which she smiled mischievously.

Replacing the glass Jha'dur, Deathwalker, last survivor of the Dilgar race began to weave her tale…

_It all really started twenty five years ago on Omelos, everything was different then, even me…_

Omelos, homeworld of the Dilgar Imperium.

Jha'dur examined the small furry creatures, they looked most unremarkable to her but the Vree trader said they were among the most resilient and adaptive creatures in the galaxy. She regarded them running around the glass case and was decidedly unimpressed, but ultimately the tests would show the truth, and these 'rats' as the trader called them would prove an unusual new subject.

She switched on the monitoring equipment, the Omelos academy of sciences was extremely well provided for and as the academy's best student of Xenobiology Jha'dur had free reign to use whatever resources she needed. As the screens blinked into life she went to the dryo freezer and remover her latest serum, a new formula designed to reduce the effects of ageing on her people. It was something she had always desired ever since she had been a tiny girl watching her mother slip away to a genetic disease which sped up the ageing process. For five years the young Jha'dur had watched this ghastly spectacle while the doctors dithered and complained but ultimately proved powerless to halt the inevitable. It was by her mothers tomb that she had resolved to find the formula to prevent old age claiming any more of her family, and from that day on she and her brother had dedicated themselves to the study of science and the need to serve the Dilgar race.

She observed the yellowish liquid in the tube for a moment, it had taken four months to produce this amount from hundreds of different plant species, she couldn't help but wonder if she would be personally responsible for elevating the Dilgar race to virtual immortality, was it her destiny to defeat death? A brief smile flickered on her lips, she would never know if she just stood here and daydreamed, so with precise actions she took the tube, placed it in the delivery receptacle, and emptied its contents into the glass case containing the rats.

For moments there was no reaction th e creatures merely wrinkled their noses at the new smell and continued scuffling. She broke a smile, if the product wasn't toxic it appeared that the first hurdle to research was complete and she could advertise for Dilgar subjects to test upon. Then it all went wrong. The small creatures began squeaking loudly and running frantically around their glass prison, faster and faster until they fell to the floor breathing erratically. Jha'dur frowned in distaste and looked at the biosensors readings, it revealed the serum had caused massive brain seizures in the tiny rodents, and one by one they expired.

She cursed to herself, then made a full report on her findings ending with the acknowledgement that it needed work. She then sent a message to the biohazard team to come and remove the experiment at their earliest opportunity and went back to studying what had gone wrong. She didn't have long to deliberate, with a sharp bang her door flew open to reveal Sha'dur, her brother and fellow scientist stumbling into the room scanning around for her.

"Jha'dur!" he shouted. "Sister!"

"Over here." She raised her hand above the clutter of scientific equipment. "I had just finished something, our dinner meeting isn't for another half hour."

"Sister, you must look at this!" he waved a piece of thin plastic over his head, the sort which is used by the academy's multiple computers to print out data. "Please tell me I am losing my wits!"

She took the offered piece of paper from her twin, they were the closest of siblings and had been since their day of birth. Through childhood they were inseparable, both the bane of their teachers with their trouble making and the schools prize pupils after excelling in the sciences, for Jha'dur it was biology and Sha'dur it had been astronomy, always with his head in the stars their mother had said with a smile.

She reviewed the data, recognizing it as astronomical data relating to their sun, some of the figures seemed unusually high. "What is this?"

"An analysis I was conducting of our sun, there had been reports of oddly coloured sunsets in the news and I was wondering why, I thought it might be solar flare activity, or perhaps magnetic disturbances, but those figures show something very different." He said breathlessly having run across the complex in less than a minute, the print was still warm.

"The magnetic field." She spotted the particular source of the problem. "Its unbalanced."

"More than that, its become static, it isn't allowing radiation and particles to pass through at a normal rate, that's what caused the spectral anomalies." Sha'dur pointed to some figures. "its acting like a giant trap of gas and radiation."

"How can these be?" she shook her heard. "This is completely unheard of!"

"I know, but I checked the figures eight times, somehow our sun is undergoing a change, but that hasn't the worst." He produced a data crystal and jammed it into a wall monitor. "This is a simulation based on the figures, it shows how this change in the magnetic field affects the sun in the long term."

As Jha'dur watched she noticed the sun growing brighter around its equator, the scrolling text indicated this was the continued build up of superheated gasses. Then with sudden fury the gasses grew to such a level that they burst free in a titanic explosion which the text refused to quantify. But even without hard data she could see it was almost like a miniature supernova and the effects on Omelos would be catastrophic.

"By the gods mercy." She breathed. "How long until this happens?"

"About fifteen years." Her brother replied.

"Fifteen _Years_!" she shrieked. "Fifteen centuries would be too short a time! But Fifteen years!"

"I know, but that's what it is!" he said desperately. "We have fifteen years before all life in this entire system is eradicated!"

She collapsed in the chair totally aghast, all her work at trying to save lives and prolong now didn't mean a damn. In a cruel twist of galactic fate her people were going to be snuffed out within the absurdly short time of less than a generation. It was too much to accept or believe.

"We must take this to the science council at once." She whispered, unable to speak louder through shock.

"I've sent a message demanding an emergency meeting," Sha'dur said. "Please sister, come with me, you know I am hopeless at presentations."

"Yes, of course I will be there." She grabbed his arm firmly. "You're sure you took the right measurements?"

"Of course I'm sure!" he said with a slight wail, sometimes she forgot how young they both still were, the news had seemingly aged her decades in an instant.

"I did not mean offence." She comforted, "But this is the greatest and most life changing discovery ever, our entire races future depends on how we react to this news. It must be accurate, it must be right."

"It is sister, it is. Gods help us it truly is."

"Then summon your courage brother, we must make them see what the future holds for us all, we are the last generation of Dilgar to live here on Omelos, just consider that for a moment. All our history and ancestry, all the millennia of life and civilisation, all of it will disappear but it does not mean the Dilgar race will. A lot can happen in fifteen years if we prepare, perhaps we can reverse this, or at least move away to our colonies."

"But what can we do in just a decade and a half?"

Jha'dur fixed him with a confident stare.

"We can do whatever it takes to ensure our legacy, and our people, survive."

She took the data crystal and placed it in her lab coat. "Come on, lets find the science council, every second now is too precious to waste."

Without even changing out of her lab clothes Jha'dur led the way out of the building and towards the elegantly built Imperial council for the sciences, in her pocket lay the future destiny of the Dilgar race and the galaxy surrounding it.

The council of scientists were in name and qualifications both a highly distinguished group, they represented the peak achievements of cutting edge science across the Imperium, and were the peers of the scientific academy, Jha'durs superiors for want of a better term. They had assembled in their meeting halls, fifty of them in a high tier of seats circled several feet above the small open floor used for giving presentations to the council and the academy. That space was currently occupied by both Jha'dur and Sha'dur, whom now activated the holographic imager and presented his data. The presentation was short but concise, and not once did the council interrupt. When it was over silence hung for three whole minutes until the young Dilgar could not stand it any longer.

"So what will you do?" Sha'dur demanded, a flagrant breach of the strict protocol governing council presentations where only the high scientists asked questions.

"This data you have provided." A deep voice said. "It is impossible."

Sha'dur let his mouth hang open in disbelief for a moment. "I assure you the data is completely accurate."

"It is not, such stellar activity is completely against all known laws of physics, you are obviously wrong."

"Fine, check for yourselves!" he almost shouted back he was so frustrated and angry.

"We do not have the resources for a fools errand." The council leader stated bluntly.

"The fate of the entire world is in the making here!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "You can't just turn your back on that!"

Jha'dur stepped in, calming her brother. Then she turned to the council.

"You are fools if you dismiss my brothers research based purely on his age, he has never been wrong before and this data is accurate."

"And when did you receive your accolades in Astrophysics Madame Jha'dur?" the council leader mocked. "As I understand it your aim is to find the miraculous recipe for immortality." There were a few scoffs and chuckles. "It is only your work in other fields of medicine which allows us to tolerate your dalliances, attaching yourself to such preposterous claims as these here might force us to reconsider your tenure."

"Do not try and silence us with threats." She snapped "this is real and it will not go away just because you all dismiss it!"

"It is not the only thing we are dismissing." The leader said. "Get out of here, I want a full summary of you other works by tomorrow so we can decide whether or not you are worth keeping here at the academy without these frivolous doomsday fantasies!"

"It is not fantasy!" Jha'dur underlined. "Fifteen years from now our world dies, now we have time to do something about it but only if we act immediately!"

"We are acting immediately." The council leader replied. "And our action is to evict you from our academy, this is an institution for serious science, now get out before I have you forcibly removed!"

Jha'dur gave him a venomous stare, she was apoplectic with rage at the haughty attitude of the science council. They were so arrogant, so set in their own beliefs of how the universe worked they refused to even consider the possibility that something may be wrong in thei perfect little view of physics.

"So be it." She snarled. "You can burn with our world, and as the radiation sears the flesh from your bones you can die with the exquisite knowledge that it was all your fault." She took the data crystal and stormed out of the chamber, her brother rapidly running up beside her.

"The fools!" she yelled, drawing a number of glances from passers by in the halls of the science building. "The triple damned fools! They will burn in hell for this, all of them!"

"Sister, please!" Sha'dur steered her into a corner, he had never once seen her grow so angry, even in the trying times after their mothers death she had never once lost her temper, she had remained as calm and cool as any scientist could hope to be, an emotionless statue that resembled his sister. "There is another way, there must be."

"Like what?" she spat, staring viciously at her last blood relative, "Without the support of the science council we have no credibility, we will be laughed out of every meeting! We will be discredited and even imprisoned for fraudulent claims and spreading panic! Our people will die and there is nothing we can do!" she was almost screaming in desperation, it seemed that the future of her race was grasped in her hands but nobody cared, nobody would make even the tiniest effort to save themselves, their families, to save the whole species. They just didn't care, and they would die for it. It was unbearable.

"We must go to the media, we must force them to accept it!" Sha'dur said. "If we tell enough people they must…" he tailed off as he noticed a rather large man striding up beside them, he wore the shaded blue of the Dilgar navy and held himself with a rigid and disciplined stance, a sign that the uniform had been well earned. He stood beside them, receiving a harsh look from Jha'dur.

"What do you want?" she snarled. "Come to arrest us for breeching the peace?"

"I was in the council room, I heard your speech." He said by way of reply.

"Ahh, I see. And now you want to ensure our silence." She laughed. "You'll have to kill us first, and right now I have no fear of death, we will all burn soon anyway, so kill me. Make me a martyr to the Imperium." She stretched her arms out wide. "Death is on its way, why should I wait for it?"

the officer did not change his dour expression. "I'm not here to kill you, we need to talk. Quietly." He looked around, Jha'durs loud outburst had drawn a lot of attention from the students and interns who frequented the academy. "I represent the Admiralty, and any threat to the Dilgar, however spurious, requires investigation." He stepped aside and pointed to the door way. "So, lets walk, unless you want to be ignored and ridiculed?"

Jha'dur immediately quietened, she regarded the officer with a clinical eye, looking in his face for signs of the truth, whether their walk would mean the government would listen or whether it would end with her brother and herself turning up in a river dead. The officer returned her gaze unflinchingly, not betraying a single inkling of his intentions, his face was as hard and unmoving as stone.

Sh'dur moved first, with a quick raising of an eyebrow to his sister encouraging her to come along he headed for the door. She gave another close look to the officer, and saw a hint of a smile on his face.

"I think you'll agree Madame Jha'dur, that we have np time to waste, Omelos cannot afford it."

With that final statement Jha'dur knew she was out of options, here at least was an official who would listen, even if he was to silence them when he had heard their story word of it at least would reach his superiors. She nodded in acquiescence, then followed her brother out of the building.

The treacherous sun gently warmed the area of greenery outside the Academy, it was a beautiful sight, peaceful and tranquil to no doubt encourage the various scientists working nearby to greater achievements. A gurgling brook ran parallel to the old pale buildings containing the various labs, with a few tall trees dotting the lush fields and bright gatherings of flowering plants in the late morning brightness.

The three of them walked along the banks of the brook, its totally clear waters dancing like liquid crystal with speckles of bright light glaring on the surface. The light of the sun, Jha'dur noted absently, the same light which was going to touch these waters in truth someday fifteen years from now. Her stomach was completely empty feeling, like there was a hole in the centre of her body expanded by this terrible knowledge nobody else seemed to want. She must have looked paler than usual because other academics that strolled by gave her lingering stares, not that it mattered. Her fiery anger was lost now to inevitability, a deep sadness as she took in the beauty around her and recognised it was all lost.

"Lets take a seat here." The officer gestured at some low rocks beneath a vast and ancient tree, one that had seen centuries of growth, so long lived but with so little time left. Every thought she had ultimately came back down to this concept that they were living on borrowed time, a whole race who's time was out.

They settled down in the shade, looking out across the waters to where a group of young naval officers were having a small picnic with some wide eyed girls from the academies ranks. The military held a special place in Dilgar society, they were almost universally respected, even revered, and it was never hard for an officer to get a date with some naïve young student or professional.

"My name is Commander Len'char," their companion said. "I'm sorry for not introducing myself earlier but it was important we went somewhere out of the way before continuing our discussion."

Jha'dur continued to watch the party over the brook, two of the officers had found branches and were having a mock sword fight to the apparent delight of the rest of the group. None of them were older than she was, yet she didn't have that sort of playful joy within her, even before todays shocking news she would not have sat and giggled as two military officers fooled around, it just wasn't who she was.

"Do you believe our evidence?" Sha'dur asked plainly, he had a way of going straight for the jugular, something she had admired and tried to emulate.

"More than that, I know its true." Len'char said. "I work for Naval intelligence, we've known about the anomalies in our sun for some time now."

Jha'dur moved fast, grabbing her brother before he had the chance to jump up in rage. "Sit!" She hissed firmly. "Let him speak."

"We know." He repeated. "We expected sooner or later someone outside the official astronomical observatories the government operates would find out, but frankly we thought it would be years yet. I'm very impressed."

"Impressed!" Sha'dur riled. "You knew the world was ending and you did not speak up to the Science council!"

"They are a civilian body and do not need to know, let them carry forward in their beliefs and ignorance." Len'char scoffed.

"An ignorance which cost us our livelihoods!" Sha'dur growled. "Something you could have prevented."

"The government will be happy to offer you a new opportunity, we have a wide range of scientific facilities dealing with astronomy and biology, large enough to keep you both productively employed."

"Military science?" Sha'dur almost laughed. "mapping hyperspace to create more invasion routes? Using my sisters gifts to create biological weapons? This is your offer?"

"It is." The officer said stonily. "we will give you as much freedom and resources as you need, I know you both have your own personal projects," he glanced at Jha'dur who met his gaze head on. He knew about her tests for an anti ageing serum and was offering her nearly unlimited resources to continue her research. "I guarantee you that you may continue them, as well as woriking for us in certain fields."

"And you want us to keep silent." She said. "If you knew and have told no one, and if you have been monitoring the academy you clearly do not want the people to know."

"Exactly." He said. "Your work will be secret, known only to the highest echelons of the military and government, you will not speak of it to anyone, you will not associate outside of your new facility, you will obey military regulations, and in return you can do whatever research you like, and more importantly you can play your part in saving our people."

"But we can't tell them?" Sha'dur asked again. "Why not? They have a right to know whats coming and prepare for it!"

The intelligence officer did not answer straight away, instead he followed Jha'durs gaze to the opposite bank and the party there.

"Suppose you went over there and told those people that the world was ending and they believed you, what would happen?" he asked.

"I guess they'd try and leave the planet, after going home and picking up their possessions." Sha'dur answered.

"And go where?"

"One of the colonies."

"Would they show up to work the following day then?"

"Well no, of course not." Sha'dur frowned. "They'd start a new life somewhere safe."

"Sounds ok doesn't it?" Len'char nodded. "But times that by Eight Billion and what happens? What happens when everyone on the planet tries to flee, when the spaceports turn into riot scenes and when you could be murdered for your place on a ship offworld?"

"Yes, but with fifteen years you could get some sort of order to the evacuation."

"Irrelevant, since when did panic and mass hysteria listen to logic?" the officer pointed out. "And if everyone runs what happens to the economy? You wouldn't need to wait fifteen years for Dilgar civilisation to die, it'd be over in fifteen minutes."

"That's a very pessimistic view." Jha'dur observed.

"But none the less true." Len'char remarked. "The information you have poses a more immediate danger to our civilization that that does up there." He pointed to the sun. "Which is why it is imperative to keep it secret."

"And what about them?" Sha'dur raised his chin at the party. "What happens to them?"

"When the time is right we evacuate, but only when the time is right. We need to make preparation both physically and mentally, the exodus of an entire planet is no easy task."

"Perhaps we can ask the Centuari for help?" Sha'dur suggested. "We have good relations with them."

"Good relations?" the officer smiled. "The Centauri use us and we use them, if they can't get anything out of us they won't help. If word gets out we're evacuating our businesses on the galactic stock exchanges will plummet, our economy collapses and we're dead. The alien races will circle us like vultures, buying up our failing businesses and our technology before its too late, and anything they can't buy they will take by force." He spat out the last few words. "If we show weakness and ask for help we will be turned upon and destroyed."

"Maybe." Sha'dur agreed. "The aliens have long coveted our advanced weapons and our resources, our colonies will be tempting targets once we cannot defend them, and with those gone there is no escape for our people."

"You've been watching too much propaganda." Jha'dur reprimanded. "We are not under constant alien threat, the government just wants you to think we are."

"Would you like to know why?" Len'char said. "Because sooner or later our needs will conflict with those of our neighbours, specifically the League worlds. We need our people to hate them and be fearful of them so that when the time comes there will be no opposition to the action we must take."

"What action?" questioned Sha'dur.

"Our colonies." Jha'dur answered first. "They aren't big enough are they?"

"No, even if we split the population evenly with two billion on each world, even with fifteen years we couldn't develop that sort of infrastructure. Two thirds would starve to death within a few weeks, maybe all of them if fighting for the limited food breaks out." The military representative confirmed.

"Oh gods." Sha'dur collapsed back. "Its over, how many could we save?"

"It isn't over yet, the government has not been idle, we have a way to save all our people." Len'char said confidently.

"By moving them to planets that can already support those numbers, with an infrastructure of that magnitude in place." Jha'dur nodded.

"Where?" asked her brother.

"The Narn?" she thought out loud. "No, no. The League of Non aligned worlds."

"Exactly, you are as smart as they said." The officer grinned.

"I thought we weren't asking aliens for help?" Sha'dur wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"We're not asking anything." The military man stated. "We need developed worlds for or people to settle on, so we will take them. We're going to invade the league and occupy their planets for colonisation."

Sha'dur said nothing. This was a day of being left speechless by events. Jha'dur however had always worked through things faster.

"I doubt they'll let you land on their worlds." She said.

"We've already begun a military build up, in eight to ten years we'll have enough ships to overwhelm any opposition, but we predict speed will be key in this offensive, we will need to remove populations from planets quickly to give our people time to colonise without fighting."

She didn't an explanation as to what 'clearing a planet' meant in this context. In the casual sunlight beneath the shade of a tree they were discussing genocide on an untold scale. It seemed so bizarre if she'd have looked at it objectively she may have laughed, or even cried. She hadn't shed tears in a long time, and she had resolved never to do so again.

"You have methods for this?" she asked.

"We have ideas, hopefully something you can help with." Len'char said. "Between your other research. It is for the good of your people, always remember that."

Sha'dur finally found his voice again. "So that's it? The plan is to conquer our neighbours and seize their planets for ourselves?"

"It's the only way to save our people in such a short time." The man answered. "We have no other options, we must do this our our race dies. I would like to enlist your help, we could use your skills in the coming events, join us."

"And if not?" Sha'dur quizzed.

"Then nothing. We proceed as planned and nobody will believe you and your doomsday stories. You will be homeless, unemployable and ultimately powerless." He shrugged. "This isn't a threat, we don't want you to suffer, but we're offering help to you, and a chance for you to help your people, isn't that the whole point of you being here, to better our race?"

It was. Jha'dur had always wanted the Dilgar to achieve a place of greatness at the head of the galactic community. All her work had been aimed at making her people the best, even her childhood dream of granting immortality through science had its foundation in trying to serve the Dilgar people, not for her own personal glory. Now that need of her people was greater than ever, and she could have a role in helping them if she wished it, she just had to say yes.

"My vehicle is waiting." Len'char stood and looked to an expensive black transport truck waiting at the edge of the academy grounds. "If you accept my offer, come with me and we'll begin immediately. If not then I wish you well."

He began to walk away, once more entering the sunlight, even such an accepted thing taken purely for granted would someday never happen again.

"Well?" Sha'dur asked as the intelligence officer left. "Do we trust him?"

"We only have one choice." His sister said. "Either we go with him or we fail ourselves. He's given us a chance to make a difference, to do a greater service to our people than we could have dreamed. Do you see what we have now? Hope."

"Hope, what hope, we have to defeat a dozen separate alien empires first! How can we do that?"

"We are Dilgar." She said proudly. "War is our nature, we will win in the end, but the quicker the better, we can do that, you can chart new hyperspace routes to move our fleets quickly into battle."

"And you sister, what about your contribution?" he said with a hint of accusation. "He was talking about mass murder, genocide. Could you do that?"

"Yes." She said without hesitation or emotion. "If that's the price of keeping our race alive then I will personally kill every other sentient in the galaxy." She regarded her brother with a cold stare. "You know what is at stake, you know what we are risking. Whatever happens we must work for the survival of our people in their hour of need."

"History will call us demons."

"No it won't," Jha'dur smiled. "Because history is written by the victors, and we will be the victors brother, and when we are done and our people safe, there won't be anyone left to contradict us."

She looked at the party over the brook again, the young officers were done with their mock fight and had started eating with their adoring companions. She wondered absently if those soldiers would survive the coming war, if they would earn glory or run like cowards. Would they have children before then with these girls they were with, and would they also be expected to fight in the most desperate times? Either way they faced death, in war at least they had a chance of survival, but to simply sit peacefully and wait for the inevitable would doom them all.

She stood and began walking to the vehicle, her mind totally made up and her resolve iron. She smiled inwardly as her brother sighed and jogged to catch up, once more they were inseparable. She paused at the door to the truck, looking down at the green grass surrounding her shoes, looking as it slowly unbent after being stepped on and scenting the aroma of the freshly cut lawns outside the academy in the sun kissed morning. It was something worth fighting for, worth dying for, even worth being damned for. She got in the vehicle and settled back, the old Jha'dur and the life she had led was gone, left out in the hazy sun to be revisited only in dreams. She came to terms with her new life, it was going to take a long time to fully accept what she was to become, but accept it she would.

She did not protest or resist as the door slammed closed, the deafening sound echoed in the confines of the passenger compartment and the dark windows murdered the sunlight streaming in, the last rays being cut off as the door sealed shut and the darkness swept forward to engulf Jha'dur in the blackness and the cold.

Deathwalker smiled at Neroon, who seemed more impassive than usual. She put the glass down and fixed his gaze.

"It was the defining day of my race, and only a handful of us knew about it." She remarked. "you imagine it would be earthshaking, that the whole world just stops and looks up in awe at the approach of destiny, but it didn't life for the Dilgar went on much as it always had, or at least that's how it seemed. In fact the government had by then grown into a puppet of the Warmasters, they fed the people doses of propaganda to prepare them for war, they encouraged Xenophobia and feelings of nationalism turning the young people of the planet into perfectly tuned warriors, and then they recruited them in mass conscriptions which were of course warmly welcomed by the indoctrinated people." She smiled and nodded. "It was a masterful manipulation of the media, it worked beautifully, within ten years we had a massive fleet and a huge highly trained and well motivated military who hated anyone who was not Dilgar, the seeds had been sown, and all we had to do was reap the harvest."

"Yes, how very pleasant for you." Neroon said with a bored tone. "So how did the humans stop you?"

"Have you not heard me?" she snapped. "To beat the humans you must understand why they fight, its deeper than just listing how each battle went! You want to know then shut up and pay attention."

Neroon looked like he was ready to strangle her, but it passed and his impassive stare returned. Jha'dur knew she was safe, the elders of the Star Riders clan thought they could gain something from her so she was left alone and unharmed, indeed she was happy to share some of her lesser works with them, simple bio weapons and cybernetics for massive deployment against civilian populations, but her life's work was still only hers, and her plans for it and the final vengeance of the Dilgar were still held close to her chest, even the Minbari didn't know. Still, this ambitious warrior was a keen distraction, and while he feigned disinterest he was in fact paying careful attention, she smiled to know she still had some ability to hold power over another, even if only in a small way.

"So, now you know how it all started, lets move a decade forward and see exactly what happened next."

"And that was?"

She smiled. "The start of Armageddon."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Balos, Independent Star System

August, 2229.

She knew there were one or two members of the General staff who had come to respect the Balosians, that they looked upon the rather simple people standing up to them as courageous and stalwart warriors. Jha'dur smiled at the concept, the Balosians were idiots, and her smile became a wide grin as a Balosian cruiser blazed brightly for a few moments as the searing heat of its reactor consumed the whole vessel in white light before fading to black embers.

The scene above the rather barren world was one of slaughter, dozens of warships hung dead and empty, hollowed out of life by the sudden attack which had swept into Balosian space mere hours before. It had been a lightning strike by all definitions of the word, an exercise in speed and impact which the Dilgar navy were rapidly becoming masters of, the surprise attack catching the defenders of Balos unprepared and out of position allowing the forces of the Dilgar to treat them as little more than target practice. Already a sizeable portion of the fleet had abandoned battle and was gathering nearby asteroids to be used as ammunition for mass drivers, with delicious irony they would be using their own natural resources to bombard Balosian civilization into the stoneage.

A tactical nuclear missile fired from the Dilgar lines obliterated an entire squadron of Balosian interceptors, and before the light even dimmed two more warships had been holed by plasma bolts from a _Oclavita_ class destroyer from the Dilgar battleline. Jha'dur continued to watch the battle with a hint of amusement, didn't the Balosians ever learn? They were woefully out numbered and outgunned, their technology primitive and their single world a rather pointless and barren place. For them to fight on was totally pointless, they had no hope of victory and yet they still attacked, they still tried to harm the Dilgar battleline and to a man they were cut down. To repeat the exact same action in the exact same circumstances and expect a different result was the definition of madness, she concluded the Balosians were simply stupid, and in fact had no right to have survived this long as a species, she'd be doing the galaxy a favour by removing them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Warmaster Len'char, the same officer who a decade ago had recruited her into the upper echelons of Dilgar society. They stood together in silence for a few moments by the viewport watching the distant battle slowly fade in intensity as the last defenders were removed from orbit and peace returned.

"A most satisfying test." He said proudly. "Our forces are operating at their peak, command and communications systems are flawless, our training is unmatched, the fire of our determination all consuming. At last we are ready."

Jha'dur closed her eyes and breathed deeply. So this was it, the moment long in the making, the point of no return they had been working ceaselessly toward these long days with the threat of extinction always bearing over them.

"They were easy prey." She replied. "So were the Alacans, but the League will be harder to subdue."

"Harder, but not impossible." Len'char stood a little straighter and raised his chin, it was a pose he often went into before extolling the greatness of his people. "We have the best warriors in the galaxy and the best ships, our Dreadnoughts are unmatched in their firepower and our fighters the deadliest known to exist."

Imperceptibly she sighed, over the years she had discovered the head of Dilgar military intelligence was in fact hugely pompous and filled with his own self importance. For as long as she had known him she recognized his inability to accept that he could be wrong, that it was quite possible that all the plans and schemes they had come up with to save their race might not actually work, and that they would all be going straight to hell. Her mind wandered, a luxury she did not often allow, and rested on a day ten years ago near the beginning of their association.

"Your lab Mistress Jha'dur." He had said with a flourish as he opened the heavy doors to her new home. It had revealed a vast complex built over three separate sublevels beneath one of Omelos' main military research centres and included dozens of sealed rooms and isolation chambers for handling any imaginable substance she could dream of. In that instant it was like being a ten year old waking up on her birthday again, her smiling parents waiting to present her with an armful of gifts as she and her brother joyfully ripped open the packaging with wide eyed delight and childish giggles as each new surprise was exposed. She actually ran into the centre of her new facility with that same wide smile of pure joy and spun around looking up at the high white roof.

"This is amazing!" she had exclaimed. "Its all mine?"

"All yours," Len'char had smiled back, her enthusiasm obviously contagious. "The Warmasters have great confidence in you, they've seen your work and recognise just how damn smart you are. You have anything you want, just ask and it's yours. Any drug, any chemical, any machine, and any member of staff, anything. Its all yours."

She fell down to her knees laughing uncontrollably, as a twenty five year old biologist who had just been kicked out of the academy it was far beyond her wildest dreams, there was no other scientist on the planet with this sort of facility at her disposal, it was every dream come true and perhaps now she could make real progress with her anti-agapic, the immortality drug to guarantee her peoples survival into the distant future.

"Jha'dur!" she became aware of Len'chars whispering hiss. "Jha'dur! Stand up! Quick!"

She was still down on her knees in the middle of the bright white floor smiling and laughing like a lunatic when the figure arrived at the door causing Len'char to snap to attention like he was on a parade ground. The new arrival was a middle aged male decked out in the light and dark blue uniform of a naval officer of high rank, perhaps even a warmaster. Jha'durs playfulness immediately evaporated and she scrambled up to her feet in embarrassment under the hard eyes of the senior officer.

"Jha'dur." He said as a statement rather than a question. "I am glad to see you accepted our offer, the Dilgar have need of your talents. Does our humble facility meet your expectations?"

"Oh yes!" she gushed before her self control reasserted itself, pummelling down her enthusiasm and chastising herself for not being professional in front of such a dignitary. "I mean yes sir, its beyond what I expected, I thank you for this opportunity."

The older man smiled a little. "Good." He apparently overlooked her boundless enthusiasm and earlier joviality. "But you must remember these facilities are not for your personal amusement."

"No sir, of course not." She said solemnly, her earlier joy evaporating by the second.

"This facility has one purpose, to ensure the survival of our species." He continued. "And the only method of survival will be through the military, do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"You will therefore be part of the military while you work here, you will wear a uniform and be expected to obey military regulations and take occasional training as we all do."

"Understood sir." She said flatly, she was beginning to realise exactly what sort of responsibility she had let herself in for, despite the treasure trove of facilities at her finger tips it seemed she would be working to a strict set of expectations.

"You will have the honorary title of Commander, but as soon as you settle in you will be expected to earn that rank like every other officer in the fleet." The man spoke. He had an air of natural authority and command, she expected he was a veteran warrior who had likely served as a Centauri mercenary, the usual method for earning combat experience amongst the more ambitious officers. "Your intelligence and past work got you in here, but to stay you have to prove yourself worthy of this opportunity. Every day is a test for you, you're going to have over a hundred staff working here and answering to you, many of them have been scientists since before your parents were born."

The mention of her parents sent a sharp flash through her memory, an image of her father leaving for duty on the Drazi border the morning after her tenth birthday, her happiest day from memory. He was stood in the same blue uniform the lecturing officer wore but with much less decoration. A week later her mother had tearfully told her that Father was dead, lost to a skirmish with Drazi ships. Five years later she had stood in silence as her mother had been lowered into the rich soil of a simple graveyard and all her connections to the heady days of childhood had been severed and buried with her. She suddenly reminded herself to focus on the present and the high ranking officer.

"Personally I think you will do well here." He nodded. "Your first task will be to review the data of your predecessor, some simple biological formulas, nothing too much for your first day. I predict a very productive future for you here Jha'dur, we're going to save our people together, starting right now." He offered his hand out. "Welcome, Commander Jha'dur."

She reached and took the hand, noticing it was rough and hard, her imagination telling her it was from years of firing a rifle or from strangling Narns. "Thank you sir, you will not be disappointed."

He cracked a small grin. "Commander Len'char will show you to your office, good day."

He stepped back, acknowledged Len'chars salute, then disappeared out of the room. Jha'dur released a deep exhalation and doubled over, her knees trembling.

"Are you alright?" Len'char rushed over and grabbed her, escorting her to a chair.

"I just need a bit of a rest." She said as she fell back into a surprisingly comfortable seat. "Tell me truthfully, did I make a complete fool of myself?"

"No!" the intelligence officer chuckled. "The old man seemed quite taken with you!"

"Really?" she frowned. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"If he'd have taken against you you'd have known about it, he doesn't suffer fools and incompetents. I'd say he actually respects you."

Jha'dur smiled at that. "I guess he's the base commander?"

"You didn't recognise him?" Len'char sounded surprised. "That was Warmaster Gar'shan, head of military intelligence. Some say he's second only to the supreme Warmaster himself!"

"Oh." Was all she could manage, she'd never met anyone even remotely powerful before, even the council of scientists at the academy had only been marginally important in general society. To meet a man who shaped the course of their civilization was a new experience, and she could feel her hands trembling again. To be actually favoured and trusted by such a person was something even more disconcerting.

Len'char laughed. "Now you've got friends in high places. This is the rest of your life now, you're not just some lab tech in an academy working for people far less talented than you, now you're the one in charge, your talents have been recognised by the powers that be, you can make a difference."

"A difference?" she was still shaking, the weight of her new situation beginning to crush her. She suddenly just wanted to go outside and get a breath of fresh air.

"Of course, you work will be part of deciding if the Dilgar race lives or dies, we already discussed this."

They had talked about it, but it was only now that it really truly began to settle on her, that she registered precisely how much was depending on her work here. Her stomach suddenly felt as if it had been crushed down to the size of an atom and her entire insides constricted with pain.

She scrambled from the chair, pushed past Len'char and collapsed in a corner and vomited profusely

Her eyes wavered for a moment from Balos, that was when she had grasped the enormity of what was needed for her people. Her stomach hadn't settled for a week but as her staff had arrived she had felt renewed, like the doubts and fantasies of her youth were gone and she was now the confident adult her parents had been and whom she tried to copy. Now she had no feelings at all in her being for the suffering of others, it didn't even register in her anymore. A few quick flashes in space caught her eye as a wing of Thorun fighters cleared up the debris field after the brief battle, which was a euphemism for shooting down lifepods, and once again space was peaceful, the menacing Dilgar fleet loomed uncontested above the now defenceless planet below.

"The Balosian army is a formidable force." She said conversationally. "The landings will not be as easy as you think."

"We have the best armies in known space." Len'char replied predictability. He had changed a lot in ten years, in Jha'durs opinion it was for the worse. He wasn't open to new ideas, he just subscribed to his blinkered belief in Dilgar superiority over all things. On the surface it seemed he was right, the Dilgar military was unmatched in size and prowess by all except the Centauri Royal Navy and even then it was generally acknowledged that the Dilgar personnel were better trained. However as Gar'shans replacement he should be planning for any flaws in the Dilgar warmachine and not immediately assuming it would conquer all, that's how disasters happen and the species could not afford a failure of intelligence in the coming war.

The fleet had finished redeploying, moving into a blockade of the planet and forming a protective cordon around the modified destroyers that were moving into position in high orbit. They were regular warships save in one respect, a long scaffold held beneath their centrelines extending for hundreds of metres along the vessels length. Mass drivers, a simple system of electro magnetic coils and rods which would take a solid object like an asteroid and propel it towards a target. They were useless against other warships, the projectiles were too slow to load and fire, they had precisely one use, orbital bombardment.

It was an intimidating sight, but Jha'dur shook her head. "You do realise most of Balosians live underground, orbital bombardment is rather pointless."

"This whole escapade is a reason unto itself." Len'char pointed out. "There is nothing down there we want, I mean look at it for a minute!"

Jha'dur did have to admit it was an unappealing target, no Quantium 40 deposits, no appreciable heavy metals for warships, no major agricultural areas for food exports, it didn't even have any stunning vistas for tourists. It was physically worthless, yet the Balosians had died for it.

"This invasion is a test," her comrade continued. "A dry run for our war with the league. Look at our fleet, we could have taken this world with a quarter of these numbers but we had to test our new fleet wide command codes, we had to work out the problems and concerns in this live fire exercise before we attacked a real enemy like the Drazi. This is a wargame Jha'dur, nothing more."

"I'm sure the Balosians wouldn't appreciate being considered mere targets."

"Since when do we care?" he replied haughtily. "It doesn't matter if the mass drivers have little effect, the point is to test our targeting scanners and establish a good rate of fire for our crews. When the time comes they will be ready."

As if it was rehearsed the first charged asteroid raced past the fleet and began its journey to Balos. Jha'dur watched, fixated on the gradually shrinking orb and its course for destruction. She imagined every other pair of eyes in the fleet was also watching that same object at the same time, scrutinizing its path or preparing to ascertain its damage patter, or perhaps just appreciating its energetic blue glow that gradually wore off as it closed on its target, the planets main space port. A few rounds of plasma rose to meet it but with no affect, the asteroid hit the atmosphere with a blaze of orange and yellow fire and plummeted straight down onto the target, its heavy iron core mostly intact buried itself in the ground sending shockwaves through the subterranean dwellings of the natives and levelling any surface structure within five miles. It was a spectacular demonstration, and as soon as the preliminary data was collected the rest of the mass drivers began to fire, working out the most efficient pattern for causing a global apocalypse.

"I hear the Supreme Warmaster is saving your own research for the war itself, so not to tip off our enemies?"

Jha'dur nodded. She was anxious to see the fruition of her long work in the fields of bio-weapons, but acknowledged that they would best be reserved as a surprise for the League. "All in good time." Her eyes sparkled with the blue and red of the bombardment, to witness such power was exhilarating, her people had come a long way and this would ensure they would continue growing forever.

"There were some Abbai ships on the systems edge." Len'char said.

Jha'dur shot him a hard look. "Were they dealt with?"

"Of course not, let them watch this and spread fear in their people." He grinned smugly.

"You complete idiot!" Jha'dur snarled. "If they see this level of devastation and this many ships it will betray our intentions! You don't build weapons like this unless you plan to use them!"

"They will assume we are just being cautious of the Centauri, the League are cowards who prefer to bury their heads in the sand than consider the truth. They believed our story about the Alacans, they will believe this."

"You have pushed it too far!" she shot back. This could jeopardise everything we've worked for!" She hammered a nearby communication panel. "Captain, do our see the Abbai vessels?"

"Yes Warmaster, we are under orders to monitor them and…"

"Those orders are cancelled, you will move to destroy them at once!"

"Yes Warmaster." Came the curt response, and an instant later the view outside shifted as the vessel turned toward the enemy vessels. Before they had even finished turning the Abbai ships opened a jump point and fled.

"Nothing will change, it'll just make the League more fearful." Len'char said, but not as confidently as earlier.

"I hope you are right." Jha'dur said coldly. "Because if you are wrong every member of the Dilgar race who dies in this war needlessly will be your fault, and I will take it personally. Do you understand what that means?"

"Yes." he said with a trace of fear, he had heard rumours about a Captain who had lost his ship to a Drazi raid. He hadn't even finished his report to Warmaster Jha'dur before he was arrested and taken to her labs. No one saw him again. "This will go as predicted."

"Get out of my sight." She said, then turned to look at space, infinite darkness and infinite cold.

Len'char had been in the military longer and held equal rank to Jha'dur, but there was no question as to which one held the power. Her intelligence had made her the youngest Warmaster in history and her ruthlessness ensured it was a well deserved title. She would be spearheading the assault on the Drazi and she relished the opportunity, the image of her father imprinted on her mind as a child along with the knowledge he had been killed by those hideous and vile aliens. They were going to pay for that, she was going to make damn sure of it.

The timer was set, four more months, then she would have her vengeance and her people would have the chance to live forever.

Tirrith, League of Non-Aligned worlds.

The falling rain echoed on the glass roof, and Alikie took a brief moment to savour it. Her home was replete with water and it frequently rained, so much so it was merely another part of the day. But on alien worlds rain was rarer and often seen as troublesome, a mixed blessing, but for Alikie it was a reminder of home and gave her a sudden bout of homesickness. She didn't want to be here in this empty and cold chamber, she wanted to be on her grounds back on Sshumssha enjoying the rain, in fact she'd settle for just standing outside here for a while, but the meeting was about to start, such as it was.

A week ago Balos had fallen to a Dilgar attack and the news had shocked the neighbouring Abbai. They immediately called a meeting of the League to gather once more on Tirrith to urgently discuss the matter and take action to prevent further Dilgar aggression. Despite plenty of time to assemble and the apparent seriousness of the situation precisely three people had arrived at the debating hall; herself, Shala'dan of the Drazi and Lumak of the Brakiri. Nobody else had even bothered to even send a junior representative. She did not feel anger, but was more disappointed than she could remember ever feeling. Never the less she had a job to do and began the meeting.

"Fellow delegates, I trust by now you have all read the reports from our scouting forces." She held aloft a sheet of paper listing the events of Balos. "It proves that the invasion of Alaca was not an isolated incident and that the Dilgar are beginning an aggressive war of conquest."

"With all due respect madam, that is speculation." Lumak said. "We have no evidence that the Dilgar will continue to attack other worlds."

"You said that five months ago when we had this same discussion after Alaca fell, and now they have taken Balos." Alikie said firmly. "By the time we have our next meeting they could be orbiting this world with their mass drivers primed!"

"It won't come to that and I suspect you know it." Lumak said precisely. "Now I can forgive the Abbai government for being a little nervous, these worlds were close to your borders and you do share your own frontier with the Dilgar, but our analysts say the Dilgar will not dare attack a civilization as old and established as the Abbai." He said with a knowing grin. "You are quite safe I'm sure."

"Look at these ships." She demanded. "Do you see their numbers? The Dilgar fleet is _thousands_ strong!" she emphasized. "It is powerful enough to pose a significant threat to all of us, we must take some united action."

"They do not worry us." Shala'dan stated. "The Drazi fleet will defeat them if they try to attack our space."

"Oh wonderful, and your evidence for that is where exactly?" Alikie said with growing frustration. "We cannot go on like this, we must do something! We must form a unified fleet to oppose the Dilgar."

"This is why the other members did not attend." Lumak glared. "They knew you and the Abbai government would try to use this situation to establish greater control over the rest of the League."

"Excuse me?" Alikie gasped. "That is preposterous!"

"Every time we meet you say that we must come closer together, we must tighten our ties, and why? For what?" the Brakiri shrugged. "The League of Non-aligned worlds is an economic partnership, we trade goods and occasionally send aid to other members during natural disasters or incidents. We work together to fight pirates and raiders but we are not a military union, we don't need to be because we are strong enough alone."

"The Dilgar will not stop at Balos, they will attack the League next and we must formalise a League wide mutual defence treaty." Alikie said, a rumble of distant thunder seeming to underscore her words.

"That's just scaremongering!" Lumak dismissed. "You just want greater power over us, that's why you set up the League in the first place wasn't it?"

"Of course not!" Alikie yelled in frustration. "We are a peaceful people, we have no need to subjugate others!"

"Then you won't mind if the Brakiri formulate our own response to this situation." Ambassador Lumak said.

"A united declaration would be better." Shala'dan said slightly to Alikies surprise. "Showing our potential enemy a unified front might dissuade them from further aggression."

"Exactly." The Abbai representative seized on the idea. "Even if its just words it might make a difference. We should issue a joint statement condemning the attack on Balos and warning the Dilgar that we will oppose further expansion of their borders."

"No." Lumak said flatly. "The Brakiri will make their own statement, we don't need the Abbai to speak for us. None of the other races do, that's why you are speaking to an empty hall."

There was a long silence punctuated only by the fall of rain and the grumbling of thunder in the sky. The League had been an Abbai suggestion, a grouping of the smaller powers to try and face the larger powers of the galaxy, namely the Centauri but ever more recently the Dilgar too. But despite many members the League had yet to make a truly united showing in any matter, the members were simply trying to get whatever they could out of the alliance with the minimum of sacrifice, it was apparently greed and apathy which ruled the League despite the noblest wishes of the Abbai, the whole thing was rotten to the core and would fracture under the tiniest pressure.

"So the official position of the Brakiri government is to do nothing?" Alikie asked formerly.

"We will be increasing our military budget, but we are too far away and too large for the Dilgar to seriously consider hurting, and we have the _Corumai_ ready for launch."

"That hulk?" Shala'dan scoffed. "According to your government it's been ready to launch for the past decade!"

"Do not mock us Drazi!" Lumak spat. "The _Corumai_ is the most powerful ship in the League!"

"By the time its finished Droshalla will have returned!" Shala'dan laughed. "Typical Brakiri, all appearance and no substance."

"Enough." Alikie called. "We must stay on topic!"

"I will not sit at a table with _That_!" Lumak waved at the Drazi ambassador. "The discussion is over, it was a meaningless waste of my time, the Dilgar are no threat to us and were probably justified in their attacks on Balos just like they were on Alaca!"

"You seriously believed the lies they told about responding to Alacan pirates!" Shala'dan said loudly. "You are a greater fool than I first thought!"

"I am not here to trade insults, my position is clear, good day." And with that he turned and stormed away.

"It'll be a good day when he curls up and dies." Shala'dan muttered. "This is the second debate on the Dilgar he has ruined." During the debate following the fall of Alaca the surviving leaders of that world had practically begged the League for help. Their impassioned pleas had found only deaf ears, and almost as soon as they finished speaking the meeting had been hijacked by the Brakiri to discuss trade and mining rights.

"We have no authority to impose a solution." Alikie stated flatly, a great sadness in her voice. "We must go alone into this crisis."

"The other races listen to the Brakiri, they believe him when he talks about Abbai plots and that the Dilgar are just rattling their swords." The Drazi snarled. "They have no honour."

"The League is a failure, a mockery of the ideals in its founding." Alikie sighed. "The Centauri think we are a joke, and if the Dilgar also see us as weak and divided how long until they tear us apart?"

Shala'dan leaned forward. "My government agrees with you, we believe the Dilgar are preparing for war. Most think it will be an attack on the Narns, but enough are convinced of an attack on us and have been accelerating our war industries as a countermeasure."

Alikie looked up, her face brightened noticeably. "So you do not believe Ambassador Lumak?"

"We trust what we see, and we have seen a massive increase in the Dilgar navy and raids on our borders." The Drazi said. "The Brakiri are too far away to care but our two peoples have a border with the Dilgar, we must be ready."

"You propose an alliance?" asked the Abbai female, seeing a ray of light in the darkness of the failed meeting.

"We will keep it secret." Answered the Drazi. "If one of us is attacked the other will come to their aid. Perhaps the League will follow, perhaps they will cower behind their borders, but we at least will stand together."

Alikie smiled widely. "I am sure my government will warmly accept this offer, they have already begun the evacuation of one of our colonies. We believe a Dilgar assault is imminent and when they come they will show no mercy."

"The Drazi are ready, we never shy away from battle and will not abandon our friends. I say let them come, between your defences and our fleets we will drive them back with their tails between their legs!" he grinned widely, showing a number of missing teeth.

Alikie considered the Drazi needlessly violent, almost the antithesis of the peace loving Abbai and very strange allies, that whole green and purple contest they insisted on having to select leaders left her both bemused and disturbed. Yet right now she suddenly recognized something else about the Drazi, they were a honourable race and it seemed that they valued the League in their own way perhaps as much as the Abbai did.

"Thank you again Ambassador, I hope it doesn't come to it, but still, thank you."

Outside the rain continued to fall much to Alikies satisfaction. The rain was known to wash away the old and reveal the new in its shining entirety, and so perhaps here too that was happening, the old League was gradually being washed away to reveal a newer and stronger bond between its two most prominent races. The Dilgar would come, it was obvious to the two remaining ambassadors, and the Abbai were the logical target. The only hope they had now was that when the war started the defences would be enough to hold them until help arrived, because otherwise Abbai civilization would simply cease to exist.

The meeting was closed, for what it was worth, and the League would never again meet in the halls of Tirrith, nor would Alikie delight in the planets thunder storms or Lumak argue over resource and shipping rights with its leaders. Such mundane trivialities were soon to be lost in the coming events, for as one storm wracked the clouds of Tirrith a far greater storm was brewing beyond them. Balos had fallen. The Dilgar were on their way.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Erwin Rommel Barracks

Mars Colony

Earth Alliance.

"Star bar or Walnut surprise?" he mused. "Walnut surprise or Star bar?"

Alfredo Garibaldi had managed to narrow down the options from the two dozen candy treats held in the vending machine down to two possible choices. He was used to making important decisions about how to assault an enemy bunker or where to go on his tenth wedding anniversary with his wife Sophia, but trying to decide between the two treats was taking him an unusually long time.

"Star bar." He said resolutely, then placed his coin in the machine and selected the row with the chocolate bar. With a whirring clank the mechanism began to push the brightly wrapped bar forward towards the long drop down to the tray at its base. He shuffled on his feet as the mechanism worked taking a small eternity, and passed the time by staring out of a nearby window.

Outside he saw a platoon of green clad troops jogging by with their sergeant encouraging them on in his inimitable style, pounding across the concrete parade ground marking their pace with a centuries old song. Beyond them were the plain faced low slung buildings common to Earth force garrisons across two dozen worlds, their simple and Spartan interiors a testament to the fact they were designed by the lowest bidder. Far beyond those buildings and the city surrounding them was the dome itself, a heavily reinforced glass and steel lattice which kept the harsh Martian climate out and breathable air in. The dome was said to be amazingly strong, able to survive a shuttle crashing into it though Garibaldi doubted anyone had ever tested that boast, but it gave the inhabitants a little extra confidence living daily within feet of certain death.

The whirring of the vending machine stopped, prompting Garibaldi to turn around. To his annoyance the chocolate bar remained wedged in the release mechanism, dangling down but not actually in the collection tray. He swore, the bar had cost him the extortionate amount of one credit and he sure wasn't going to let anything cheat him out of that, let alone a damn machine! He stepped back and checked out his surroundings, the large mess hall was completely clear, the rows of plain steel tables cleaned and left neatly arranged for the next set of meals in about two hours. He could hear the regimental cooks at the far end of the hall behind their doors slaving away in the kitchen but figured they were too busy to pay attention to a few sharp crashes and loud noises, which was exactly what Garibaldi was about to create.

He grabbed the machine, pushed it back a few inches so it was leaning on its back supports, then let it go. It slammed back level with a jarring crash which echoed in the hall making Garibaldi cringe. Unfortunately the bar remained in place, so with a sigh he gave the machine a quick punch, shuddering it but not dislodging the recalcitrant chocolate. With growing anger he kicked the stubborn machine, and finally on the fourth try the bar dropped into the tray with a most satisfying clunk.

With a chuckle of victory he grabbed the prize and turned to leave, stumbling to a halt as he found himself nose to nose with a hard faced man who had apparently sprouted silently from the ground. Garibaldi was about to give him a few choice insults about sneaking up on guys when he quickly noticed a pair of Captains bars on the mans shoulders and snapped straight up to attention.

"What's your name and unit soldier?" the officer asked. He was a heavy set black man with a shaved head and neat goatee beard. He looked about mid thirties in age but with hard eyes and a very confident manner, a by the book officer if ever he had seen one.

"Private First Class Alfredo Garibaldi sir." He rattled off loudly. "Red platoon, Alpha company, 99th regiment sir!"

"I see." The Captain remarked. "I'm glad to see your unarmed combat training came in useful just now." He glanced at the vending machine, some noticeable dents in its side. "Although I doubt they were designed to defend us from an invading army of snack dispensers."

"Sir, no sir!" Garibaldi snapped. Great, another officer who liked the sound of his own voice.

"Do you have an explanation Private?"

"Sir, I paid my money but the machine refused to deliver my choice of snack sir."

"So rather than report the fault you decided to try and persuade it yourself?"

"Seemed like the quicker thing to do sir, cause less trouble for base maintenance, sir."

"How very thoughtful." The dark Captain remarked. "Still, it took your money and gave you nothing back, sounds just like our government to supply us with something like that. You have to wonder why a military base has a vending machine anyway."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi agreed, the machine was actually very popular and his buddies did enough PT that a couple of bars of chocolate wouldn't make much difference. Of course he wasn't going to tell this officer that, best just nod and let him think he was never wrong.

"However understandable your actions, you were still in the wrong." The Captain said. "You'll pull guard duty tomorrow evening, is that understood?"

"Perfectly sir." Inwardly he was relieved, that was pretty lenient considering the damage to government property. Of course it screwed up his plans to celebrate Private Rourkes twenty second birthday but it was still more like a slap on the wrist.

"Alright Private, dismiss."

"Yes sir." He stood a little straighter, then stepped back and headed hastily for the door.

The Captain grinned, then went to the vending machine, with a shrug he inserted his coin and made his selection. It was a hard balancing act keeping discipline in troops without being overbearing, the officer had to be respected but not necessarily liked, and the way he did that was through fairness and making sure everyone knew their responsibilities and where they fitted into the big picture. He frowned deeply as his selected candy refused to be delivered, just like it had for Private Garibaldi, and for a second he considered attacking the machine, but then reminded himself to lead by example and with a huff went to find maintenance.

"Hey Freddy, we thought you'd got lost!" a shout greeted him as he entered Red Platoons barrack building.

"Come on, he only had to go to the Mess hall! Freddy could find a mess hall on any alien planet blindfolded!"

A barrage of laughter and whooping calls followed, it was a well known joke in the Platoon that no one could match Garibaldi's appetite, even though he looked an average built guy Alfredo could down shovel loads of just about anything placed on a plate before him. It had won the Platoon a lot of bets in the past and had rapidly become a Company legend.

"Quit it Bugs." Garibaldi smiled and tossed him the chocolate bar. "Next time fetch your own, you almost got me thrown in the stockade."

Private John 'Bugs' Malone caught the flying snack and immediately tore into it. "What happened?"

"Damn machine broke so I had to fix it." He began.

"You mean give it a good kicking!" Private Tucker said with a laugh, his thick London accent easily recognisable.

"That's what I said, fix it." Garibaldi smiled. "Anyway, I got it fixed, got you that damn chocolate, then get caught by an officer who saw it all!"

There was another burst of laughter from the platoon, there was nothing malicious about it but they did tend to find misfortune amusing.

"But it was cool, the guy gave me extra guard duty but nothing formal, turned out okay."

"Say, this officer," Private Rourke began with his Dublin accent. "Didn't happen to be a bulldog looking fellow with a bald head?"

"Well yeah, he did kind off. Why?"

There were a few more whistles and chortles.

"That was Captain Franklin, the new Alpha company CO."

"Our new boss." Tucker said unnecessarily. "What is it they say about first impressions?" he grinned widely.

"Crap." Garibaldi dropped on his bunk. "I hate it when that happens."

"Well at least the Colonel never found out it was you who left the hand brake off that truck which totalled his car." Bugs pointed out. "And I shouldn't have said that out loud should I?"

"Talking about it jinxes it." Tucker pointed out. "Now you gotta lift the jinx before someone finds out."

"And the only way to lift it is to by the first round of drinks at the Afterburner tonight." Garibaldi chuckled. "Drinks are an Bugsy!"

The twenty strong platoon gave a mocking cheer, prompting Bugs to stand up and take a bow. Over the years the company had acquired a handful of traditions and superstitions which had to be religiously observed so not to jinx the unit with bad luck, and one such superstition was not talking about company secrets out loud. Most jinxes could be easily lifted, usually through buying excessive amounts of alcohol or performing a challenge or dare, it was silly but it many ways it brought the troops together more.

"Anyway, come on guys." Garibaldi stood, the single stripe on his shoulder requiring him to take some extra responsibilities in his unit. "We've got a briefing to attend in half an hour about events in the Alien sectors." There were some groans. "Yeah I know, nothing to do with us but you might learn something, then we'll hit the dome."

That cheered them up a little, and gradually they starting moving their kit away and cleaning up their little corner of Mars. The 99th was a fairly new unit and while it had seen limited action hunting down Mars separatist groups most of the soldiers hadn't seen real combat, only the Colonel and a few of the officers who had transferred from other units had any real experience. The Regiment was specialized in operations on hostile planets, most of its training took place outside the Martian domes in the harsh climate earning them a reputation as hardy and uncomplaining soldiers, currently Beta company was guarding a Quantium 40 mining operation on one of the most desolate worlds the Alliance had surveyed, and secretly Alpha company was damned pleased they were still secure in their barracks despite the constant lectures and PT.

Garibaldi squared away his bunk and adjusted the photograph on the wall beside him. It showed Sophia and his eleven year old son Michael, every time he glanced the picture he had a swelling of pride for his family, his wife was a manager at one of the smaller shipping firms, it didn't pay a lot but it was solid work arranging cargo drops and setting up contracts. His son was in junior school a few blocks away and was already an accomplished sportsman and had showed himself to be pretty bright, his dad had high hopes for the future. His grandmother had already said he'd make a good cop, maybe even a detective, though of course Alfredo wanted to see him join Earth force and experience the comradeship he had grown to respect and appreciate himself during his service. Either way his son was going to be a success, he'd make sure of that.

With a lingering smile he headed out of the barracks with the rest of the platoon and headed for the briefing on the fall of Balos.

Afterburner Club, Mars.

The barman threw a quick glance at the gaggle of men walking in laughing loudly. Even though they were dressed in casual shirts and pants by their stance and walk they were clearly soldiers. He of course didn't mind, they provided a huge amount of his business, but he could see a couple of his clients getting a bit agitated at the sudden increase in noise. He shrugged, there were plenty of other bars in town if they didn't like it.

One of the grinning soldiers headed for the bar with a credit chit clutched in his hands.

"Twenty one bears for my buddies over there!" he said enthusiastically to the wild cheers of his comrades.

"Nice one Bugsy!" one of them called.

The barman ran the card with a smile. "On its way trooper, take a seat." Whenever a party of soldiers came in, usually most nights, the barman rolled up his sleeves to display a tattoo on his forearm, it was the unit emblem of the 7th Cavalry and the mans former unit. He didn't mind soldiers using his bar one damn bit because he remembered being there himself back in the days of the Ch'lonas troubles and how much he needed to unwind with his buddies and some cold beers. He started pouring the generous portions and stacked them on the bar.

Elsewhere in the bar a pair of men looked over their shoulders at the sudden cheering of the new arrivals but dismissed as harmless enthusiasm.

"Gropos." One of them quipped, then returned to the table. "What you drinking?"

His companion was a huge man, over six feet seven when stood and with a physique to match. He had short blond hair and a beard with a liberal helping of tattoos on his arms.

"Jovian sunspot." He said in a gravely voice.

The other man sighed. Much shorter and more slender with scruffy black hair he shook his head.

"Jors, I told you twenty times they don't serve those kind of drinks in places like this, bit too girly."

Normally Jors Skagaard, known as 'Steel Jaws' to the tramp freighter community due to his prodigious strength, would not tolerate anyone at all even indirectly saying something he liked was 'girly,' however his current companion had known him for long enough to recognise Jors would take it as a joke. Sure enough the big man gave a roaring laugh which temporarily eclipsed even the neighbouring soldiers.

A new pair of people entered the bar, both of them rather scruffy looking and nervous to be in this particular part of town. It wasn't exactly a dive but the regulars in this district didn't tend to demand classical music and Haute cuisine. They were mainly dock workers, private freighter crews and infantry from the local base, their officers preferring to dine up town. The two new arrivals were fairly young looking, a fair haired man and a girl with something of a Japanese ancestry judging by her dark hair and features. They spotted the huge Norseman across the room and headed for their table, the girl drawing some appreciative glances from the party of soldiers.

"Hi Paul." The young man addressed. "Jors, you cool?"

"Just thirsty." The big man answered.

"Toby, Jenny." Paul Calendar nodded in greeting, his straggly hair falling across his brow as he did so. "So you spoke to the guy?"

The four people at the table represented 80 of the crew of the freighter _Space Race._ It was a rather small and unimpressive ship but was well noted for its speed and ability to evade raiders on even the most dangerous route. As its master Paul Calendar had become quite famous in the freighter community and had a knack for finding the best jobs in the sector and turning a tidy profit. His crew was a mix of people, Jors was the pilot and despite his size was amazingly good. Toby was their navigator, and his nervous nature was seen as a consequence of all the near misses Calendar had escaped from. Jenny Shoku was a fairly new addition to the crew having joined six months earlier to replace 'Old' Harry Maxwell who had first bought the _Space Race_ with Pauls father thirty years earlier. He'd retired to a nice house in Mars Dome One with his decent fortune and now Paul was the sole owner of the ship and business. There was only one person missing.

"What happened to T'Koth?" Toby asked.

"He's in jail." Paul answered. "Again." T'Koth was their translator, he could speak a dozen languages including most of the League planets dialects and as a Narn had plenty of contacts in his upstart home regime allowing the freighter to cut some corners off their journeys. Unfortunately he also had a tendency to drink too much and get into trouble.

"The Authorities will hand him over when we leave." Jors said. "They just want to get rid of him."

"Nothing worse than an angry Narn in an enclosed space." Paul remarked. "Especially if he starts singing."

They shared a laugh, Narn opera was known across the galaxy to shatter teeth with its ferocity.

"So the job?" he brought the conversation back on topic.

"Yeah, I tell ya it's a great one, easy work and vast money." Toby grinned. "Fifty thousand credits a shipment, can you believe it?"

"Depends on the shipment." Paul said, it was a decent amount but it wouldn't make them all rich.

"And more than one shipment too, we could get months of work out of this at fifty grand a trip!" he enthused.

"What and where?" Paul pressed.

"Tirolus, in Abbai space." Toby finally answered, "Yeah it's a long way but they only need us to run between that world and their other colony at Utriel, or maybe to Abbai itself."

"Ssumssha." Jenny corrected in her quiet voice. "The Abbai homeworld is called Ssumsha."

"Whatever, either way its just one jump there and another one back! Easy money!" the young man smiled widely, obviously quite pleased with his find.

"Pay isn't bad." Jors agreed. "And its from an established government, not likely to rip off."

"No." Paul said flatly.

"Ah come on boss, it's a raider free zone and just one jump!" Toby pleaded. "It's a cushy number!"

"You haven't seen the news lately have you?" Paul sighed, then looked at the shy looking girl opposite him. "Jenny, what's been dominating ISN lately?"

"The Dilgar invasion of Balos."

"A Dilgar invasion." He repeated. "You're the navigator Toby, why don't you tell me which governments share a border with the Dilgar?"

"Among others, the Abbai." He admitted.

"And I think you'll find that not only is Tirolus one jump away from the other Abbai worlds, its also one jump away from Dilgar space, and Alaca which fell earlier in the year and Balos which is currently home the largest concentration of scary-ass warships in the galaxy." Paul said with a cold glint in his eyes. "So no, we aren't going."

"They want us to transport people." Jenny added. "To evacuate their colony in case of attack."

"Even more reason to stay the hell away." The Captain replied firmly. "We aren't going to blunder into a war zone."

"Its at most a five day round trip for us." Toby said. "That's like ten thousand a day! For months!"

"We can't ignore that sort of cash." Jors said in his growling voice. "Its more than we'd make anywhere else."

"I know T'Koth would agree, its madness to let this go!" the young companion enthused

Paul frowned, he hadn't made a reputation by taking such major risks, he wasn't particularly scared of danger but the Dilgar were getting unpredictable and ever more aggressive, he believed it would only be a matter of time before they invaded somewhere big, and the Abbai seemed the logical choice. However even had to allow the pay was pretty impressive, and just about justified the risk. He also had the problem that as an independent contracter his crew wasn't bound to a given corporation and if they wanted to could just walk away and join a crew that would go the Abbai Matriarchy. It was against his better judgement, but he was out of options.

"Okay, fine. We'll go and take the contract."

The rest of the crew grinned widely and Toby high-fived Jors, deeply regretting it when the slap left his hand stinging.

"But," Paul cut in loudly. "But if I see so much as a Dilgar scout probe we are out of there and running for home, got that?"

"Got it chief." Toby was still grinning. "So equal splits?"

"The _race_ gets first call as usual." Paul said, indicating that the needs of their ship had to be serviced first and refuelled. "Then the rest will be equal split."

It was another quality which earned Paul Calendar respect, he didn't hoard or swindle money like a lot of Captains, he thought a distrustful crew would ultimately lose him money in the long term so kept his people well paid and happy. Judging by the wide grins they were currently very happy.

"Toby, get the beers in." Paul handed him some coins.

"And ask if they do sunspots." Jors added.

The small man scrambled up still wearing a grin and scampered off to the bar.

"Sunspots?" Jenny frowned. "Hell, even I wouldn't drink them."

For the first time that night Paul burst out laughing, his joviality mixing with the singing and laughing of the troops at a nearby table. It wasn't a classy bar, and the man behind the bar certainly knew that, but for atmosphere it was unbeatable. He cleaned up a new set of glasses with a happy expression and kept the alcohol flowing.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Balos

September 2229

It was the privilege of a conqueror to survey the conquered, to stand upon the field of glory and look with all due pride and satisfaction at the fruits of their victory. While Warmaster Jha'dur was currently exercising that right she wasn't overly impressed, Balos was hardly the Elysian fields or some sort of blissful paradise, as far as her eye could see there was only a rough landscape of blasted rock and the openings of underground warrens where the Balosians thrived.

She walked on, looking past the other Dilgar naval personnel who had finally been allowed to the surface after the army had secured most of the major population centres. The other groups were currently pointing in awe at a vast crater caused by an impact from one of the mass drivers of the fleet, a particular officer was telling proudly of how his ship at the best firing rate in the navy and how this crater was his personal accomplishment. She didn't resent his moment of triumph, but to Jha'dur it was pointless so she headed slowly away.

The sky was a dull orange colour caused by the sun light refracting through particulate dust in the air thrown up by the orbital strikes, no surface city was left standing and many underground warrens had been collapsed, the death toll was estimated to exceed a billion and that was before famine and disease had set in to cull the remainder. Armed guards watched her closely, it wouldn't do for a senior Warmaster to be assassinated on a visit to a safe planet, and the notion made her smile a little. Life and death had blended into one for her, for so many years she had existed in a world where both had struggled for dominance she no longer made a distinction. They were the same thing with no deep moral or spiritual meanings, you lived and then you died. End of story. She had dedicated her life to the study of death, everything she had done for a decade had been in its company so much so that she had a greater affinity for death than for life. If she dwelt on it too long she found herself becoming deeply uncomfortable.

Beyond a low rise in the terrain she came upon a valley and paused to examine the view. The valley was filled with people, Balosians, who were held behind masses of electrically charged wire and fences. They had been herded together by troops cleaning out the underground cities and grouped in their thousands in these holding centres all across the planet with only very basic food and shelter, if they were lucky.

She scrambled down the slope of the valley with her escorts, noticing an overwhelming odour of unwashed people, the scent caused her to wrinkle her nose in abject disgust but did not stop her from walking right up to the wire.

"Warmaster, with respect," her escort leader spoke. "You shouldn't get too close."

"Thank you Captain." She replied. "But I know what I am doing."

A large group of Balosians had begun to gather opposite where she was standing, they were wretched to look at with only the tattered clothes on their backs as possessions. She guessed most of them were civilians and recognised some had once worn high quality clothing, now as stained and dirty as everyone elses. There were no social classes anymore, no rulers or leaders, wealth had no meaning to them and privilege was a thing of the past. They were all the same now, just a conquered people at the mercy of the Dilgar, at her mercy. The thought gave her a rush of exhilaration, the power she had over these people an arms length away to grant life or take it with a word, to merely indicate to the guards around her to open fire or lob a grenade into the mass, to sow such pain and destruction. She could feel herself succumbing to the temptation to do so.

"Jha'dur." A voice interrupted her thoughts. "At last I find you on this gods forsaken world!"

Her annoyance at the interruption evaporated as she recognised her brother. She smiled widely and embraced him with a laugh, the Balosians staring emptily at them with hungry and haunted eyes.

"Brother, good to see you!" she laughed. "I saw your forces performed well in the attack, I'm proud of you."

"Bah, it was barely a challenge." He grinned. "They were swept away like sand in a hurricane." He gestured dismissively at the camp inhabitants.

"Even so I hear the Supreme Warmaster noticed you, there good be a great deal of honour heading your way."

He grinned even wider, Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan was very frugal with praise, very few people ever impressed him and those that did were well rewarded. Jha'dur herself was one of those few, her enthusiasm at work had earned her a quick promotion but it was only when she spoke of fleet matters and how to run a strategic war that Gar'shan truly saw her potential. He gave her an opportunity to prove herself by planning the attack on Alaca and she did so with such skill she was made a Warmaster on the spot.

"I ask only to serve my people." Sha'dur answered solemnly, the knowledge they shared was still the best kept secret of the Dilgar race, besides the council of Warmasters and some senior scientist nobody knew about the doom hanging over Omelos. The expansion was explained to the people as the Dilgar race seizing its destiny, that the aliens were constantly taking and hoarding resources that belonged to the Dilgar and that soon they would falter as a species unless something was done. The people were surprisingly easy to work up into a militant frenzy, they embraced the idea of outside persecution and fervently supported the attacks on their neighbours. A full scale war with the League was not only expected by the people, but demanded. Which of course was exactly what the Warmasters had engineered them to think.

"And that time is coming." Jha'dur nodded. Her brother was a fleet Captain in command of a sizeable task force but had not yet reached the rank of Warmaster, although she suspected it was more through a lack of opportunity rather than skill, something soon to be remedied.

"Our intelligence officers are saying the Abbai and Drazi are preparing for war." Sha'dur said, throwing a quick glance at the eyes watching him silently.

"To be expected." His sister agreed. "But crucially no other League worlds are mobilising, even after everything they will not unite against us, their petty squabbles still keep them at each others throats. Well, until we tear them out."

"But they might unite once we strike." He stated. "And when combined the League fleets are not insignificant."

"They are uncoordinated and mostly poorly led." Jha'dur said precisely. "Even if they fight well raw courage does not win wars, planning and careful preparation does and that is where we have the advantage, plus our warriors are fearless and without peer in the galaxy." She looked over her shoulder and winked at one of her guards. To his credit he remained completely emotionless, a perfect soldier.

"The sooner the better." Sha'dur grumbled. "I hate this place, the people are revolting." He glared at the prisoners who continued staring silently back. "And it stinks to hell."

Jha'dur nodded. "Trust me, it won't be long until we can conquer some more worthy planets, but this place has its uses." She turned to view the crowd, meeting the gaze of each one in turn. Each turned away from her cold eyes, perhaps intimidated by the uniform or her side arm, perhaps cowed by some deeper uncertainty. But one did not, one met and held her gaze full on causing her to crack a small icy smile. "Come here." She said in the Abbai language which seemed commonly spoken on Balos. For a moment the man did not move, then lost his hesitation and stepped forward.

"Sister…" Sha'dur hissed and the guards slowly changed to a fighting stance.

"Stand easy." She commanded. "Why so nervous brother?" she smiled widely. "They are no threat." She continued grinning widely as the Balosian reached the wire, as he stopped she noticed a tiny figure clinging to his trouser leg trying to stay behind him.

"Who are you?" she asked in Abbai.

"Troslan." He answered bluntly.

"I don't care about your name." She answered calmly. "I want to know who you are to these people."

"I am a mayor of the closest city." He responded still meeting her gaze.

"A local leader, man of power and dignity." She nodded. "You speak for these prisoners?"

"Yes, I do."

"Good, tell them they are all slaves to the Dilgar Imperium and will be expected to work hard for us. If they don't they and everyone they know will be killed."

He hesitated slightly, obviously thinking of what lay ahead for him.

"Now." Jha'dur said firmly. With another glance, much less confident now, he turned and began to speak in his own language.

"The Balosians are a hardy race." She said aside to her brother. "They will make good workers in our mines and refineries, plus we can forget about safety features, any accidents and we can always get fresh supplies from here." She returned her gaze to the people. They were livestock to the Dilgar, a resource to be used and expended for whatever short term gain they provided. Their lives were inconsequential, meaningless, especially to Jha'dur. Their only worth was what she could learn from them before they ceased to exist as a race.

It all came back to the same idea, that of live and death which dominated Jha'durs world. She had mastered death, it obeyed her in all its myriad forms, she could unleash it or keep it caged away at her whim and could easily bring death to anyone she wanted. It wasn't anything great or terrible anymore, she had no feeling when she killed another sentient, or even when she killed thousands. It wasn't real power, any fool with a gun or a nuke or a phial of biogenetic agent could do the same. Real power was life, and that was her ultimate desire, to exert the same dominance over life as she did over death, to command it and keep it close to her forever. Life immortal, that was power.

The Balosian finished speaking, but Jha'dur was fixed on the small child clinging to the Mayors legs. She bent down with a big smile and gestured at the child.

"Come here." She whispered. "Come on, don't be afraid."

The mayor moved his hand to hold the child back but one of Jha'durs guards raised his rifle, and reluctantly the man backed away.

"What's you're name?" The smiling Warmaster asked.

The young child, a girl, cautiously walked forward towards the crouching Dilgar. While young she at least partially understood that the cat like people on the other side of the wire were not friends, and was therefore confused by the friendly manner of this particular woman.

"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you." She continued smiling warmly, the mayor grimacing in helplessness.

The child moved forward to the wire, to the apparent pleasure of the well dressed Dilgar leader who smiled with white teeth and wide eyes.

"What is your name child?"

"Manty." The young Balosian whispered quietly.

"And is this man your father?" she asked, glancing at the Mayor.

"Yes miss." The girl replied, assuming the woman was fairly important so addressing her like one of the school mistresses. The Warmaster smiled wider, seemingly amused by the title.

"He has brought you up well, you are a very well behaved and respectful little girl." Jha'dur complimented softly. She noticed that beside the girl her father had his hands clenched so tight blood was seeping between his fingers. That amused her further. "Where is your mother?"

The child cast down her eyes. "I don't know."

Jha'durs smile slipped and she spoke with an even more gentle tone. "She's missing?"

"Yes, we haven't seen her since the ground started shaking and the sky burned."

"We were separated during the bombardment." Her father said accusingly, but held his temper under the steely gaze of Jha'durs guards.

Jha'dur was still focused on the child. "Do you think she is alright?"

The child did not look up. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Do you think she is alright?" the Warmaster asked. "What does your heart say?"

The little girl looked up, slightly brighter. "It says she's fine, she's waiting for me and father."

Jha'durs smile returned. "Then I believe she is." She noticed the Mayor was getting more and more distressed. "You know when I was little I lost my mother too, just like you have."

"Did you find her?" The girl chirped.

"No, but I know that she is still here, waiting for me and my brother to come to her." The Warmaster smiled sadly and looked to her brother, who could not meet her gaze. He always retreated into himself when they talked about their parents.

"I hope you find her." The girl said. "and you live happily ever after."

The Warmaster laughed, her cats grin spreading across her face. "Why thank you, you are a good little girl. When was the last time you ate?"

"Two days ago." She replied.

"There isn't much food in the camp." Her father the Mayor added.

"Then we ust resolve that, Captain," Jha'dur turned to her escort. "Make sure these people have their rations. They are important in their way to our war effort. Lets not waste our resources."

"Yes Warmaster."

"And you," she returned her attention to the little girl. "By beig so polite you have earned a treat." Jha'dur took a piece of candy from her top pocket, it was yellow and crumbly in texture but had a heavenly scent. "here, take this, I'm afraid the other food you get may not be so tasty, at least for a while."

The girl reached through the wire ant took the offered sweet, eating it down quickly.

"Now remember to eat well and keep your strength up." Jha'dur said. "Obey your father and I'll have my people look into finding your mother."

"Really?" the child grinned.

"Really." Replied the Warmaster. "Now, off you go, play with your friends."

The girl ran off and disappeared into the crowd, her father stepped back with her. "I guess I should thank you." He admitted. "Can you find my wife?"

"Perhaps." Said the Warmaster. "But you must agree it is important your daughter thinks so. It will keep her strong and we need good strong workers for our industry, you must all do your part to earn your food. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good, remember this conversation, you are responsible for ensuring these people work. Do not let me down."

Jha'dur turned and moved away back up the slope she came down, her guards shouldering their rifles and followed, with her brother running to catch up.

"What the hell was that?" Sha'dur snarled. "You talk to these animals of our mother!"

"The girl moved me." Jha'dur said smoothly.

"Are you going to use our troops to find the things own mother?" he said harshly

"Of course not." Jha'dur scoffed "You sound tense, you should relax more."

"We're on the verge of the biggest war in our history, how do you propose I relax?" he snapped.

"Immerse yourself in research like I do." She replied. "Our work is our biggest gift."

Sha'dur growled as the reached the summit. "I still don't see why you help these creatures."

"Giving that girl a treat?" the Warmaster smiled. "Brother, do you not know me by now? I do not help our enemies, I merely find ways for them to serve us. The candy had a large dose of compound 291-K, my latest formula."

Her brother blinked absently. "It was what?"

"291-K, a biological agent of my own invention. Captain, come here." Jha'dur said plainly as if describing something completely inconsequential. "Make sure to monitor the spread of the contagion within the camp, the squalid conditions and close packed people should be ideal for the virus. You know who patient zero is, watch the child closely and report her progress. I expect a 98 fatality rate within three to five days of contraction, any who are still alive after that are to be put in cryo freeze and sent to my team for dissection."

"yes Warmaster."

"The virus is harmless to our species, but even so take precautions. You have your orders, dismiss."

They exchanged salutes, then the officer marched away to attend to his new duties. Jha'dur turned and smiled at her brother, raising an eyebrow at his shocked expression.

"I don't understand you." He said. "Why did you do it?"

"Its my research." She said. "Or have you forgotten I am in charge of bio weapons?" she chuckled. "Oh, don't tell me you care for those dumb refugees? Not developing feelings are you?"

"Of course not!" Sha'dur sneered. "They are beasts, just because they walk and talk does not make them like us. But why did you talk to that child first, why not just hide the virus in its food and have it delivered?"

She shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I just wanted a connection with her I suppose. I wanted to see into her eyes and experience a little of her life, to understand her and examine her feelings. To empathise with her. I wanted to know what it was I was destroying., what I was taking away."

"You wanted to be a god." Her brother stated.

His sister laughed. "For all my life."

She looked back on the camp one more time, then turned and headed for the other officers. She had no regrets, the Balosians were nothing to her besides a means to advance her people by whatever means necessary. But her brothers question had raised something in her mind, why did she want to be close to those she killed? What was the point of that? Whatever the reason it wasn't going to just pop up in her mind, and it wasn't really important. The main concern she had was to prepare for the coming war, everything she did had that same goal from infecting the camp to discussing fleet formations.

She banished the thoughts from her mind and looked up into the dim and dusty sky, making out warships beyond. The League was out there blissfully unaware that its days were numbered. Time was almost out.

Balos, high orbit.

Later that day.

"I'm sorry sir, can you repeat that?"

Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan frowned, he was not used to repeating himself but Jha'dur was one of his ablest commanders and something of a protégé of his, so he would forebear this time.

"I said the invasion of the League worlds is being postponed."

"But sir, our forces are ready! This is the perfect time! We can beat them!" Jha'dur stated emphatically. She was stood in the private quarters she used on the Dreadnought _Dominator_, one of the fleets flagships, staring at the holographic transmission from Omelos. The room was opulently furnished in browns and golds but not particularly large, she did have her own customised Dreadnought being built but it was still over a year from completion, she half expected the war to be over by the time it was built. That expectation was now evaporating.

"The League has stepped up its defences, and this is a concern to us." The Supreme Warmaster said. "However our intelligence sources tll us that the League is lazy and in a few months they will return to their lack of readiness. They will return their fleets to standby and dismiss their reserves, then we attack."

"Master, every month we delay brings our world closer to death!" Jha'dur pleaded. "You must attack!"

"If we attack without favourable conditions then our destruction will be brought about sooner, and not at the hands of our sun but by the aliens." He stated. "My orders are to wait and prepare."

"Master, whatever opposition waits us now we can overcome, I am positive that…"

"Are you questioning me?" Gar'shan said icily.

"No sir." Jha'dur lowered her head. "Not at all."

"Good." He said, then sighed. "Listen Jha'dur, I know you are a good officer and I know you want to take your revenge on the Drazi, and when the tie comes I will unleash you myself, but not yet. There is more to consider than just the League, there are three other powers who can affect the course of the war and we must time our actions with them."

"Three powers?" she frowned. "I understand the Narn and Centauri, but what is the third? Minbari?"

"Humans." Gar'shan said. "They live beyond the league, they are new but may pose an obstacle. Apparently they are on good terms with the League and it is important to make sure our plans consider them."

"I've heard of them." Jha'dur recollected. "The Centauri consider them primitive, weak barbarians."

"The Centauri say that about everyone." The Supreme Warmaster cackled, his aged throat weary from decades of barking orders. "But they handled the Narns very easily in a few skirmishes before treaties were signed, they may be an obstacle which slows our attack, and as you know once it begins we cannot slow down for any reason."

"I understand Warmaster." Jha'dur nodded. The invasion was perfectly choreographed, a sweeping assault that would crush the League in less than a year, her own task was to de-populate the billions of inhabitants on the primary League worlds to make way for the Dilgar civilians, but without totally wrecking the planetary infrastructures through orbital bombardment or prolonged ground invasion, which meant a biological plague. Wiping out billions was easy, the problem she faced was engineering a plague deadly to the target species but safe for the following Dilgar.

"The Narn are a concern, they are predatory and may attack us as we launch the invasion. I have opened talks with them aimed at making sure this does not happen." Gar'shan said absently. "We'll probably give them some League worlds we don't want so they can profit from the war."

"And the Centauri?"

"Well that's the real issue isn't it?" Gar'shan said seemingly to himself, as if his student wasn't present. "The Centauri fear us, and that fear may cause them to act irrationally, to attack us while we are overstretched. However, there is something going in our favour, an example of fate smiling on us and encouraging us to take our destiny."

"And that is sir?"

"The Centauri Emperor is dying." Gar'shan smiled. "And when he dies there will be the usual squabbling among the noble houses before the successor takes charge, most likely a Lord Turhan, reportedly something of a pacifist."

"A man not likely to start a war with us." Jha'dur nodded. "Especially if has to calm down the Centarum and establish a solid power base."

"Exactly, a foreign war would be impossible for him to wage within a year of ascending the throne, and of course by then we would have conquered all we need." The Supreme Warmaster explained. "And naturally his position would be even more precarious if the Narn were to attack during the transitional period, I hear they have ships already massing near Gorash."

Jha'dur grinned widely, the old Warmaster could still weave a rich tapestry of deception. She didn't know how much of a hand he had in matters but it would only need one or two nudges from him to convince the Narns that the death of the Emperor was a perfect time to exact a measure of revenge, and at the same time keep both governments out of the Dilgar plans.

"My compliments sir," Jha'dur said. "And my apologies, I should not have questioned your strategy."

"You are my best student Jha'dur." The old man smiled. "Of all the Warmasters you are the most gifted, the most determined, the most pure. It is in you the future of the Dilgar rests, you are what we should all aspire to, the prime example of our race."

Jha'dur was stunned into silence, Gar'shan was a legend, the most successful of all Dilgar commanders and a man as hard as iron plates. He never said more than a few words and even the tiniest praise from him could make an officers career. To see him smile and hear him speaking so frankly and openly was totally unexpected, it took all her effort just to keep her jaw closed.

"I have followed your progress intently Warmaster Jha'dur." He continued. "And I do not say these things lightly, I have considered you a daughter in many ways, and my natural successor when the time comes."

"Master, I do not know what to say." She gasped.

"Say nothing, I am merely explaining the facts. When this war comes I will rely greatly on you, I can trust you not to fail me. Contine your research, be ready. We invade when the Centauri Emperor dies, and not before."

"Understood sir." Jha'dur stood to attention.

"You are my chosen, Warmaster Jha'dur." Gar'shan said. "The Chosen of the Dilgar, do not forget that."

"I won't sir. I will earn that title."

"You already have." He smiled again, Jha'dur thought probably only for the second time in his entire life. Then the image disappeared leaving her breathless. She had known Gar'shan for years, but he had never once taken her into his confidence as he did now, perhaps she really was as important as he thought. The realisation was nerve wracking but also deeply exciting, she was being lined up to rule her people, to command the great empire they were about to forge and oversee the resurgence of her race. It was a great honour and a high destiny, and she knew that it was something she could handle. Ten years ago it had been different.

"Commander Jha'dur!" the haughty voice had said, causing her to swivel quickly in her chair. The bright white walls of the research centre still dazzled her from time to time especially if she was interrupted.

"Oh, technician Nar'ken, what can I do for you?" she smiled pleasantly.

He slammed a stack of papers down on the young womans desk with a face like thunder, and rapidly her smile vanished. Nar'ken was at least forty years older than her and a formidable personality. Jha'dur may well have been in charge of the research facility in name but it was this old technician who really ran things. "What the hell is this!"

"Work schedules." She squeaked, cowed by the mans fury.

"I can see that." He snarled. "But why am I pulling a double shift in D-lab?"

"Because you are the expert in Cyborganics, and we need that element of research completed before we can proceed with anything else. So it needs working on quickly."

"I am not working a double shift." He sneered.

"But you have to!" she said. "We must get this work done quickly!"

"Why? Why the hell should we, what's the rush?" he folded his arms and glared at her.

Jha'dur had been sworn to tell nobody about the approaching disaster, not even her staff in the research facility. "You should do it because I told you to." She replied with no conviction in her wavering voice.

The old technician snorted and walked away, telling her where she could shove the work schedules.

She stayed in her chair, ashamed at herself for being dominated by someone who supposedly worked for her. She had only been here a few weeks and already the stress of the work was getting to her, she was too young for this, too young to run a hundred staff for the military, she just wasn't a born leader. She knew that tears were beginning to well in her eyes as her mind screamed at her, telling her to just quit and save herself further embarrassment. But there was another voice, a cool calm reminder that unless she got a grip the planet would die. It seemed such an extreme thing to say to herself, but the more she repeated it the more it mattered, and the more it drowned out her doubts and convinced her to do something. With a burst of energy and rage she grabbed the work sheets and tore off after Nar'ken.

She found him up in D-lab where he was alone having a snack in the secure area behind thick glass walls where . Food was strictly regulated on the facility because of the risk of disrupting a sterile environment, Nar'kens actions were blatantly flaunting the rules. He didn't even acknowledge her presence.

"Technician Nar'ken, it is customary to stand when a superior officer enters the room." Jha'dur said sharply.

"Who said you were superior?"

She tried to ignore the remark, and put the papers on his desk. "You will work on these shifts."

"No, I won't."

"If not I will be forced to have you arrested for insubordination." She stated firmly.

"I'm not one of your soldiers, beside you need me here, so why don't you get lost and play with your school friends?" he smiled maliciously and shovelled in more food.

"Stop eating!" she shouted.

"No." he grinned and ate some more.

"Dammit I order you to stop!" Jha'dur shrieked, losing all composure. "I'm warning you!"

Nar'ken rocketed to his fight and stood directly in front of Jha'dur, he was at least six inches taller than her and far larger. With a thin smile he leered down at her. "You want to warn me?"

"This is intimidation." She said, keeping her voice even despite her sudden fear. "Warmaster Gar'shan put me in charge!"

"Yeah, guess you're his new pet." The large technician continued looking down on her. "So why would our greatest leader put a whiny, snivelling little girl in charge of this place?" he chuckled "Maybe he and your mom got really well acquainted say twenty something years ago?"

Jha'dur gave him a powerful slap across the face, surprising even herself. She stood with her mouth wide in shock as she registered her actions, she couldn't remember the last time she had lost her temper, certainly not since childhood. Her wide eyes met those of Nar'ken who stared at her with cold anger.

"You stupid little girl." He shook his head. "You are so far out of your depth, this is my lab, my facility. I've been working here for years, I was all set up to run this place before you came along. You just walk in and get handed everything I worked long and hard for. I hate you little girl, I suggest you resign and let someone more capable take over, like me."

"Never," sh snarled, her own anger taking charge of her thoughts, she wasn't going to be bullied by this primitive male who thought intimidation was the way to earn command. "I am in charge because I am better than you, so deal with it."

"Deal with it?" he growled. "Fine, I'll show you how I deal with it."

With vicious speed he pushed Jha'dur backwards, the force lifting her off her feet and hurling her out of the lab. She hit a console on the outside with a yelp, her head banging the control panel and activating the lock down sequence. Yellow lights blinked on as the doors to D-lab slammed shut, trapping Nar'ken inside the secured analysis room. The lights turned a sickly yellow and warning sirens began to sound.

"Jha'dur!" he banged on the glass. "Get up! Get up!"

She rolled on the floor, stunned from the impact and blinked her eyes. The side of her head was pounding with pain, and the screaming sirens weren't helping. She stared up at the white roof now toned yellow in the light and gradually regained her focus, enough to hear the muffled shouting from the lab beside her. She slowly turned her head and saw her attacker banging on the glass with a look of terror on his face.

"Hurry!" he yelled. "The room is sealed, I'll suffocate!"

Even in her groggy state Jha'dur knew he had hours before he asphyxiated. She picked her self up, lifting herself onto a chair beside the control panel and slumped back, closing her eyes and nursing the pain in her head. The attack had left her in a state of shock, even now she was having a hard time grasping what had happened, her brain seemed to be processing information at a snails pace, like an overloaded computer which she guessed it was in a way.

"Commander, the door!" the voice continued. She noted absently that now he wanted something he was giving her some respect.

"First of all, I want your word that you will obey my orders." She said slowly, trying not to stumble over her words. The sides of her head were still stabbing with pain.

"Anything, I can't stand being locked in here!"

"Second, you're going to face charges for assault."

"What?" he squealed. "Come on, it was only a push! It was nothing!"

She felt her anger growing and with it the pain in her head. "You deliberately attacked me!" she accused. "You will answer for your crime!"

"They'll kick me out of the facility! I'll be destitute, I have a family to feed!"

"You should have considered that earlier, before assaulting your facility leader." She said coldly.

"You can't do that! this is my life!"

She felt a wave of revulsion for the man, he was nothing now and she couldn't believe she had been worried about him. He was a bully, a shallow and self obsessed bully who was now pleading like a slave to be allowed to continue his ways. Like hell. Now it was Jha'dur who had the power and she would see him begging on the streets before the day was over. It had been a lesson in power, one she now understood, he only had power if she allowed him to have it, if she gave it away. It was something she must always remember, that power could not be taken from her, only given away.

She leaned over the panel and found the door opening control.

"Come on girl, I haven't got all day!" he called, and Jha'dur stopped.

"Girl?" she said softly. "You do not call me 'girl' you call me Commander. Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course it is."

"I don't think so, in fact I think you'll just go back to the way you were once I let you out, that you will once again try to dominate me and the other workers."

"No, no I won't, I swear it!" he banged on the glass. "Just get me out!"

"No." she said. "No, you are scum, you are nothing!" she spat. "I have read your reports, seen you work, all you do is take advantge of others, and try to do the same to me!" all her rage began to well up, the frustration at not only his treatment but of everything, of the academy council belittling her, at the sun preparing to snuff out the world, at the forces who killed her parents, at the whole damn universe. It opened like floodgates of pain and anger and she slammed her hand on the control console, not activating the door mechanism but the labs emergency purge function. Through fierce tears she watched the lab being doused in intense radiation and that flash burned up to thousands of degrees, nothing inside could have survived and in her fury she did not care. For those moments she was not in control, she gave herself totally to emotion and when she came around she realised the terrible consequences of doing so. She had taken a life.

The inquiry was a whitewash of course, Jha'dur was too valuable to go to prison for murder. Officially she had been concussed by a fall and accidently pressed the wrong btton, a tragic accident for which no blame was assigned. It seemed she had friends in very high places. But in the facility the rumours were quietly circling, whispers said she had killed Nar'ken for not obeying her orders and that despite her age she was a stone cold killer. Jha'dur did nothing to dispel the rumours, it seemed to help them meet and exceed their targets and she even began to enjoy the fear she caused in others. But dep down she was badly shaken, a life had been taken because she lost control. She resolved never again to give in to emotion, never to act on impulse but instead to treat life like science, with clinical observations and distance.

From that moment on she didn't listen anymore to her heart, until she barely even remembered it was there. The warmth of compassion was gone forever and she didn't care, her mind told her it was a weakness, that pity and sorrow were wasted emotions and that the mind could more than replace the heart as her sole measure of conscience. It was a way to be stronger so she would never be a victim and instead could serve her people to the best of her abilities. From then on she would do whatever was necessary and feel nothing for it, the youthful exuberance was gone and the new Jha'dur was born, the person who would one day become infamous as Deathwalker. And she didn't give a damn.

Returning her thoughts to the present she frowned, Gar'shan had always been her protected and he would not allow her or the Dilgar race fail. His strategy was sound and delayin the war was necessary. If he could ponce when the Centauri were weak and perhaps even set them and the Narns on a collision course it would lead the Galaxy's great powers too busy to interfere in the coming slaughter, and then only the fractured League would oppose them.

A single thought came to her mind, it told her not to forget the humans. She considered it for a moment, then laughed it off. The humans were no concern of hers, if anything thy were merely future slaves, or future victims. She turned to her bed and prepared for sleep, the following day would be busy, she must immerse herself in her research and monitor the progress of her latest test subjects, the future required it and her mind demanded it. Underlining everything was the one constant in her life, the anti-agapic, and secretly she was anxious to examine Balosian biology and see if it could yield the final missing clue to the formula.

She entered sleep with a smile, while on the planet below the death she had brought did its murderous work.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

One year later, September 2230

Earth dome, Geneva.

President Hauser marched into his office, entering through the rich dark wood doors and acknowledging each of the half dozen Generals, ministers and advisors who stood up from their comfortable leather chairs as he entered. Briskly he crossed to the dark oak table and settled down, finding a large collection of folders set out in front of him.

"Well then gentlemen, what's the cause of this meeting?" Hauser said in English but with a thick German accent. In the days since the formation of the Earth Alliance it had been one of the earliest decisions that English would be the universal language of government and commerce to make a global senate and united military a workable option. There had been vast opposition, mainly from China and the French, but by then the various Anglo nations headed by the USA and UK in the North along with Australia and New Zealand to the south had established themselves as leaders in the space race and first contact with the Centauri had been in English, therefore the language had stuck.

"Mr President," Minister or State Harry Brogan, was a middle aged man from the American bible belt, he had a thick southern accent but was a powerful speaker and firm believer in Earths place at the forefront of the local alien governments. "Thirty five minutes ago Emperor Deraini of the Centauri Republic died."

The President nodded. "I see, not entirely unexpected though, yes?"

"Correct Mr President." This time it was Carl Durban who spoke. A native of Sydney Australia Mr Durban had risen through the murky world of Intelligence to become direct of the Earth Intelligence Agency, commonly known as the EIA. "Centauri news agencies have been bemoaning his ill health for years now, most of us are surprised he held on as long as he did. Apparently he died peacefully in his sleep."

"Which means he was poisoned." Brogan huffed.

"Well, there's no evidence of that, and I would certainly advise all members of Government to keep such ideas to themselves." Durban stated.

"I agree, we don't want to upset the Centauri." Hauser said.

"Still, its probably true." Brogan continued, his attitude to the Centauri was well known in government circles, he considered them decadent fools who had no sense of duty or morality. "The main course of advancing is through treachery and assassination."

"Well lets keep those views under our hats." Hauser said. "Assassination is no way to become leader of an interstellar Empire, although I guess it cuts down on election campaigns!"

The assembled group laughed politely, all except Durbans aide, a young man named Morgan Clark who kept respectfully quiet.

"Anyway, who do we think will succeed him?"

"Our sources say a Lord Turhan." Director Durban flicked open his folder. "Page five of the dossier sir."

The President opened a folder on his desk and found a picture and quick description of Turhan. He already looked rather old, perhaps in his fifties or even sixties with grey hair. For a few minutes there was silence as the room read through the summary notes and waited for the President to finish. English wasn't his natural tongue so it took him a few minutes longer to read through but eventually he sat back up.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged. "I think we can continue our cordial relationship with the Centauri under his rule."

"We agree." Said Durban. "He has the support of most of the major Centauri houses, although as always there are challenges we do not expect it to turn into a civil war or any sort of fighting for that matter. However Mr President the process of installing a new Emperor can be time consuming, especially with a challenger, it could be months before Turhan formally ascends to the Throne."

"During that time there will be a vacuum of power," Brogan said. "The Centauri will turn inwards and their influence on galactic politics will cease until Turhan establishes himself. We're concerned this period of instability may encourage some of the more aggressive races to broaden their horizons as it were."

"The Narns?" Hauser queried, he was well aware of the expansionist tendencies of that race and their glee at making the Centauri suffer. A suddenly weakened Centauri Republic could give them enough opportunity to restart their expansion.

"Yes sir." Answered Durban. "But also the Dilgar, You remember them from you inaugural briefing and the events of last year?"

"I remember." President Hauser had been sworn in just a month before the Dilgar attacked and conquered Alaca, and he had feared an interstellar war would break out before he could even warm his seat as President. Thankfully it hadn't and the fall of Balos last year had been equally limited. "You think they will attack the Centauri?"

"Unlikely sir, but they may feel more confident about attacking others if they don't have to worry about their borders." Brogan pointed out. "We've seen how aggressive they are and reports from Balosan refugees are frankly too disturbing for widespread release."

"But I can't see them attacking the Narns or the League, they are just one fairly small empire correct?"

"Yes Mr President." Durban said. "But we should be cautious, the next few months may be particularly difficult for interstellar politics until the Centauri get sorted out. We believe there is a very high chance of Narn aggression and should be prepared."

"Does State agree?" President Hauser asked.

"Yes sir, we do." Brogan nodded. "While we don't expect anything major we should watch for raids on or border."

"Very well, secretary take a note." The President addressed his aide. "Inform Earth force command to set DefCon 4 for all units on the border worlds and step up patrols until the Centauri leadership returns to normal."

"Yes Mr President." The aide scribbled down the note, then set of to transmit it. As the doors swung shut behind him the President relaxed, he'd made a big decision without having to worry or stress about it, this was how a Presidency should be.

"So gentlemen, anything else to discuss?"

"Just one thing sir, kind of relates to our earlier topic." Brogan said conversationally. "There's a motion in the Senate for us to send observers to Balos, check up on how the civilian population are doing."

"What's that got to do with us?" the President asked. "I thought that blew over a year ago?"

"Yes sir it did." Brogan agreed. "But since then we haven't heard anything from the planet beyond the initial reports, which were not pleasant. Senator Santiago and a few others are concerned for the population under the Dilgar occupation, apparently a lot of League worlds feel the same way."

The President frowned and rubbed his forehead. A number of Balosians had escaped the occupation and formed a resistance group operating from Abbai space, they were constantly asking for help and telling lurid stories of torture and death, which naturally the Dilgar denied. Hauser didn't really believe them but Dilgar space was a long way away and it served the Earth Alliance little to go nosing into the affairs of other races.

"I'd be willing to look at sending Aid shipments, though I doubt the Dilgar would allow it, but I don't want to send our people into a hostile situation uninvited."

"I agree Mr President." Director Durban echoed. "Too much of a risk for too little gain."

"I believe Senator Santiago would disagree, he'd say there are Billions of sentients in peril on Alaca and Balos." Brogan said.

"Is State saying we should intervene?" Durban said plainly.

Brogan shook his head and grimaced. "I don't know, I think we have a duty to the galaxy and its inhabitants as we have to all living things in Gods creation, but at the same time we don't want a confrontation with the Dilgar. I advise waiting at least until the Centauri situation stabilises, then perhaps make discreet enquiries."

"Your suggestion is noted." President Hauser said. "Now if you'll excuse me gentlemen the Vice President has challenged me to a game of Racquet ball, and I owe him a good thrashing."

Erwin Rommel Barracks, Mars

Garibaldi rocked on the balls of his feet as he stood in line outside the communications building. Well not exactly outside, he corrected, after all everything on Mars was in some sort of dome or underground bunker and as he looked up he could see the familiar red and orange sky through the metal and glass above. He'd been born in Boston back on Earth, the son of two Police officers who met on city force and clicked together. He considered his parents a perfect example of what a relationship should be, sure they fought and argued but in the end they always made up because they knew they were better off together than apart.

"Next one!" a voice called from the building and the man in front of Garibaldi went in, leaving Alfredo next in line. A few hours ago Colonel Longstreet had informed the Regiment they were being redeployed to the outer colonies and as soon as he was done the entire base had run for the Communication buildings to place calls to their relatives and friends telling them the bad news. Garibaldi himself had been in line for over two hours and was finally at the head of the line, his credit chit shaking in his hand as he shuffled back and forth with nervous energy.

"Next!" the call game and Garibaldi eagerly bounded forward and into the building. A bored looking Lieutenant met him the door, ran his credit chit and nodded as it cleared through.

"Booth ten," he said. "Five minutes only."

Garibaldi felt like arguing, but it wouldn't make a difference it would just waste his highly valuable time. He quick timed down to the end booth, on his way he could hear laughter and sobs from the other booths as the soldiers and family took the news differently. He himself found it deeply depressing, the deployment could last for months and he'd wanted to spend Christmas at home this year. The army didn't pay him enough for this.

He reached the booth and settled down, closing the thin door behind him. He placed his card into the slot below the screen and activated the dialling sequence, a more local number than some of the other guys in the unit.

The military logo blinked off to reveal a warmly lit room with some modest furniture in the background, the top of a dark haired head was just visible on the screen.

"Hi Michael!" Alfredo laughed at the sight. "How you doing little fella?"

"Daddy!" he shouted in excitement. "Hiya Daddy!"

"What have you been doing today? You watching those cartoons?"

"Yeah." The young garibaldi answered. "Daffy duck got shot by hunters."

"No kidding? How's he doing?"

"He got shot full of holes, but he'll be okay, he's going into space next."

"You see, you can't stop Daffy." Alfredo laughed. "Where's your Mom?"

"Making dinner, hey mom!" the kid yelled with a startlingly loud voice. "Daddy's on the vid!"

"You watch out for the Duck Dodgers show, it'll be on soon. I remember seeing them when I was a kid with my dad." Alfredo grinned.

"You coming back soon?"

"Soon, but not for a while yet." Alfredo smiled with more sincerity than warmth. "I've got a few jobs to do first, but we're still on for Christmas okay?"

"Sure thing dad, hey moms here!"

The child was replaced by his mother Sophia, her long dark hair and blue eyes always made his heart jump a little, even after thirteen years of marriage she was still quite the sight for sore eyes.

"Hi there Sweetheart." He grinned like a schoolboy. "How's things?"

"Pretty good, I wasn't expecting a call until later on, has something happened?" she said concernedly, there was no hiding things from the wife.

"We've got orders to move out, we go in two days."

"Where?" she asked

"Orion colony." He said. "I can't say a lot more but its just garrison duty, I'll be able to call you every day."

"From the other side of the Alliance?" she sighed. "Dammit Freddy you'll be lightyears away!"

"Sophia, sweetie I can't help where they send me, I'm pretty damn annoyed about it too." In fact he felt a lot more strongly about it but was careful to watch his language with his son in earshot.

"Will you be back for Christmas?" she demanded.

"I don't know honey, I hope so but you know what the army's like."

"You going into battle?" Sophia asked, a waver in her voice.

"No honey, absolutely not, don't worry about that." he smiled reassuringly. "We have no enemies, and Orion is perfectly safe. Look, they haven't cancelled our leave so I'm still on for Christmas, even if I have to hitch hike back on a Pak'ma'ra garbage ship I'll be home for the party, that's a promise."

"You swear it Freddy?" she asked solemnly holding in her emotion. "You swear you'll be back here for your son?"

Garibaldi had no hesitation. "I Swear it, whatever happens I'll be back for Christmas. Hey Mikey, you hear that? I'll see you at Christmas!"

The young child cheered, causing a shared smile from his parents.

"Look Sweetheart I gotta go, there are a thousand other guys need to call home, I'll call you from Orion colony, look after things okay?"

"We'll be here waiting." She smiled sadly. "Keep safe Freddy."

"Love to you both." He touched the screen, and Sophia did the same.

"Love to you."

"Bye daddy!" called little Michael, then the transmission ended. Alfredo sat for a while, just smiling. He was proud of his family, more so than anything else in the universe and they kept him going. His bond with the guys in his squad was something unique and unbreakable, they were like brothers to him but his feelings for family were something on a whole different level. Whatever happened he would keep his promise.

"Five minutes are up Private Garibaldi." A voice said, accompanied with a bang on the door. "Move along."

He left the building, walking past the anxious line waiting their own turn to speak to home and family. He shook hands with Tucker on the way past and asked him to say hi to his kids for him, both their children went to the same school and were good friends along with many others who had mothers and fathers at the base. They called Mars home now and Garibaldi had met Sophia on his first visit to the red planet.

Originally Alfredo had tried to join the Police on Earth, but in high school the young Alfredo had been arrested for brawling in the street, and even though it was totally justified the Police couldn't take him on in his native Boston, despite his parents excellent service. So instead he went to Mars and tried again with similar results, eventually he took a job with a private security firm, and there he met Sophia. Thirteen years later they were still together and just as happy, although they had been tested five years ago when Alfredo's job had dried up and he'd found himself unemployed, ultimately joining the army to provide for his family. It tuned out to be his second best decision so far, he fell right into the military life and despite being in his late twenties he made a good Private and got on well with the younger guys and taking responsibility for the squads welfare which saw him get his first stripe. Sometimes the Army messed him about, like today, but all in all it was a good life and a good future.

He strolled into his particular barrack and dropped on his bed, he held the picture of his family for a few moments with a warm grin, then started to sort out what kit was going with him on deployment.

Two days later,

Olympus Mons Military Spaceport.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen." Colonel Longstreet drawled. "Now that we're all paced and ready to go I can reveal our particular postings."

The departure room of the port was crammed with green clad troops from the 99th, each was hauling their kit in a huge pack and carryall while stacks of crates further down the hall held their various weapons and hardware. The 99th was a little different from most Earth force regiments being specialists in hostile environments and conducting warfare on worlds that would kill most life forms in seconds. As such they didn't operate much heavy equipment like a mechanised division but did have the very cutting edge of technology the Army could provide, including sentry guns, fully integrated re-breather units for long term deployments to hostile environments and brand new PPG rifles.

"The higher ups have decreed that we will be assigned fleet protection duty." Longstreet continued, the announcement was met with groans. Fleet protection meant the Regiment would be split up assigned as security details to warships in Earth Alliance service. Technically it was the job of the Marines but there was a grey area between light infantry duties like the 99th performed and the duties the rest of the Army performed which often saw Light infantry doing the same jobs as Marines, which no one liked. Supposedly it was explained as cross training the units for different roles, but in truth it was because there weren't enough Marines to go around so the Army took up the slack, the consequence of most Earth Government funding going into warship construction instead of ground force recruitment.

"First Battalion, first Company, listen up." The Colonel read of a list. "When we arrive these will be your assignments, Red Platoon, _EAS Persephone_, White Platoon, _EAS Hyperion_, Blue Platoon, _EAS Aegea._"

Garibaldi grinned with the rest of red platoon, the _Persephone_ sounded like a cruiser, which was the most desired posting besides a starbase for space deployment. Cruisers were fairly spacious and designed for crew comfort on long missions unlike Dreadnoughts which had most of their space occupied by weapons, fighters and spare parts. The worst assignment was Corvettes or Frigates, short range vessels with barely enough space to move and constant noise as the little ships power plants tried to keep it moving. A Cruiser assignment was just fine.

Garibaldi heard a few more names as the Colonel read out the rest of the Regiments assignments, he recognized the _Lexington, Brooklyn_ and _Prometheus_ as cruisers, and sympathised when Charlie Company was assigned to the warships _Churchill, Patton _and _Bismarck_, which sounded like Dreadnoughts. Still the lack of fortune for his comrades didn't dampen his mood as and he the company were dismissed and went to the departure lounge to wait for their turn to takeoff.

Three hours later they were still waiting, sat with a beautiful panoramic view of the launching pads and runways of the port with the towering volcano of Olympus Mons itself in the distance Garibaldi was happy just to take in the view, however the rest of the Company was less easily pleased and Lieutenant Sanchez, Garibaldi's Platoon commander, started a little quiz to keep them busy.

"Private Garibaldi," he said. "Why don't you answer this one?"

"Sir?" he blinked and focused on the officer. Sanchez was a good man and respected, but sometimes a little too enthusiastic.

"The question was what is the range on a CPPG unit?" the officer said kindly, the rest of the platoon turned their eyes to watch him.

"Nine hundred metres in standard atmosphere sir."

"Very good, how about rate of fire and ammunition capacity?"

"Rate of fire can be varied, but basic setting is a thousand rounds per minute. Standard fusion batteries on the Sentry mounting provide for twenty five thousand rounds, but the weapon can also use fifty round caps if it needs to be carried by its operator sir."

"You see Sergeant Sosobowski, Garibaldi has all the answers!" Sanchez grinned at the Platoon sergeant who simply nodded. "Now, what's the weight of a Baldur IFV?" he asked the whole group, and a few raised their hands. Garibaldi however returned to the view, the stark beauty of Mars had captivated him almost as much as Sophia, he often felt like some sort of frontiersman out here, like the pioneers of the old west or the first space explorers and it made him respect them.

His gaze was centred on a team of well insulated ground crew directing a menacing looking Battle tank into the hold of a landing craft, apparently a delay with the previous battalion had bumped the whole schedule, but as the tank was finally loaded the heavy figure of Captain Richard Franklin stalked powerfully towards the Platoon.

"Lieutenant Sanchez, report to bay ten, we're moving out."

"Yes Captain." He saluted and turned to the men. "Alright guys, get your gear and lets move, quickly now, lets lead the way."

"Lead the way." Private 'Bugs' Malone grinned. "Lead the way to the departure terminal! Woo-yaa."

"Did you say something there Private?" Sanchez raised an eyebrow.

"No sir, just clearing my throat sir." He replied quickly.

"Glad to hear it, if that throat thing keeps up I might have to assign you extra PT to try and sort it out." He smiled wickedly.

"Feeling much better sir, thank you sir." He darted forward with his pack under the amused eyes of the platoon.

"Follow Bugsy then." Sanchez nodded, and as one they headed for the launch bay.

The launch was spectacular, Garibaldi had managed to get a seat next to Sanchez almost at the front of the shuttle, and the pilots weren't in a sealed enclosure allowing him an almost unobstructed view through the cockpit windows. He watched in pure wonder as the orange sky first paled and then darkened into the black of space as the craft effortlessly broke out of Martian gravity and eased into orbit. Far ahead of them he could see the blinking lights of another shuttle, probably the HQ platoon and Captain Franklin following the same vector as Garibaldi's own ride, and he expected the rest of the Company was following on behind him.

"That's our destination," Sanchez pointed out helpfully. "The _Tampa bay_."

Garibaldi and a few other guys leaned forward and glimpsed the massive grey troop ship, one of the _Tantalus_ class, which were common sights near bases. He was immediately grateful it was an official troop ship and not some commandeered freighter, he'd had nightmares about being crammed solid in some spluttering freighter like a sardine under attack from raiders. As he saw more outside however he decided Raiders wouldn't be a problem.

"Wow, look at all those ships!" Bugs gasped beside him, echoing his own thoughts. "Looks like somebody noticed how important I am, 'bout time I got a decent escort!" he said joking.

Rather than a single troop ship as the shuttle got closer Garibaldi counted five, capable of carrying two full brigades of troops and armour. Scattered around them were a dozen corvettes and a pair of heavy cruisers, their lean frames prowling past the bulky troop vessels.

"Looks like a major redeployment." Sanchez nodded. "Guess that armoured Battalion is heading our way too."

"Holy crap!" Sergeant Sosobowski exclaimed, immediately huffing in embarrassment. "Sorry sir, but just look at that!"

Sanchez peered in the direction his Sergeant advised, with Garibaldi craning after him, and sure enough his eyes widened at the sight. Beyond the impressive troop fleet was a squadron of the latest Dreadnoughts, the astonishingly mean looking _Nova_ class. Usually seeing one or two of these vessels was a treat, but Garibaldi had counted twenty before the shuttles course moved them out of view, and a heavy escorting force of cruisers and corvettes with them. It was a massive gathering of firepower, more than he'd seen before and from the Sergeants reaction more than that veteran too.

"Oh yeah, major redeployment." Sanchez repeated. "I guess the Joint Chiefs want a show of strength to the alien races, there's supposed to be a bit of trouble on the Centauri border according to ISN, guess they want to discourage someone trying the same to us."

"A division or two of battleships should send that message sir." Sosobowski nodded. "And I guess sending reinforcements to the garrisons on the outer colonies is the same message."

"Well at least we know why were going." Sanchez shrugged. "And it should mean a short term deployment, at least until the Centauri problems die down. That's pretty good news."

Garibaldi smiled a little, it was good news, it meant he was a show of force and when the show was over he'd be back home, maybe in a month or two tops. As the shuttle settled into its final approach he caught a better glimpse of a passing _Nova_. If Earth force wanted to intimidate aliens a bunch of those ships were the perfect messengers, over a kilometre of thick armour plate and rows of huge cannons lining its length, the thing was about as subtle as brick to the face. There was no question about what those ships were built to do, they didn't have bright glaring colours like Narn ships, or rows of spikes and mandibles like the Dilgar enjoyed using, they simply didn't need them, they just naturally looked like they were ready to bust heads, no decoration required. Garibaldi nodded with pride, Earth Force knew how to get the most from what technology they had, and anyone who tried to tangle with one of those monsters was going to come off second best. Then the ship disappeared as the troop shuttle entered the bay and the next stage of the journey began.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Gorash Star System

Centauri Space

October 2230

Patrol was a waste of time and effort. In fact not only was patrol in generally a waste of time and effort, but patrol of this particular system was a highly offensive waste of his time and effort, he could only conclude that at some point he had deeply insulted the gods to be left with such a dreary and ignoble assignment.

This particular system was part of the territory claimed by House Jaddo, one of the older and relatively influential political families in the great Centauri Republic, and as a loyal servant of the house Captain Andune would follow his orders to check up on the families territories, though inside he believed he was meant for better things. Unfortunately there was nothing better, Andune had been born in the wrong age and had missed the glory days of the Republic by a good few hundred years, although he would have settled for a commission just a few decades ago during the second great expansion which had led to contact with those triple damned Narns. He often dreamed of leading the expeditionary force to that planet and simply bombing it instead of setting up a colony and therefore sterilise the galaxy of its greatest plague. The remembrance of the long held dream made him smile.

Gorash was a blasted and empty world incapable of supporting life, a few domed colonies existed but it was mainly ignored, its only value as a location of raw materials for the House Jaddo fleet yards. Each of the great houses of the Centaurum maintained a respectable sized navy used mostly for securing their respective territories from outsiders, ostensibly raiders and aliens but more usually each other. While nowhere near as formidable as the centrally controlled Royal Navy the local house fleets were still a considerable threat to border worlds and each other, and with the sudden absence of an Emperor tensions were running higher than usual necessitating an increased presence from the different fleets, just to show they were ready to protect their territory.

"Our sensors show nothing Captain." Commander Kentan reported from his post. "Just like they showed nothing the last three times we scanned."

Andune gave him a nod, he appreciated the officers boredom and from the general atmosphere on the bridge could sense it was a common feeling. The Centauri fleets weren't meant for such dull duties, they should be duelling with Drazi raiders or playing a game of wits with the Dilgar, not guarding a system which nobody wanted to visit, let alone attack.

"We'll run one more sweep, then go home and report our duty done to Lord Jaddo."

The crew brightened up a little and recalibrated the sensors as the ship turned from the main planet and pointed its nose outwards to head on another leisurely journey between the different outposts on its circuit. His ship was a fairly powerful unit, the crescent winged _Demos_ class attack ship which had become a familiar design since the Orieni war ended with a less than thunderous victory. The vessel was designed for high speed attacks and hunting with its sisters across the lines of battle, and every morning Andune would ask the pantheon of gods to grant him the chance to show the full potential of his ship and crew, he asked for war.

"Picking up hyperspace disturbances!" Officer Kentan said with mixed anxiety and glee, finally something was happening. "A jump point is opening!"

Andune bolted upright and scrambled to the sensor station. "There's nothing scheduled to come in system." He said. "What ship is it?"

"Can't get a reading yet." The sensor officer reported. "We'll have to wait until it clears the vortex."

A million possibilities went through his mind, could it be raiders, an alien power perhaps? Was it a cargo ship in distress? Maybe a freighter belonging to a League power which he could claim as plunder. Either way his twin hearts were racing at the notion of something actually happening out here.

"Great maker," the officer said in astonishment. "A Narn heavy cruiser!"

"Narns?" Andune was just as surprised. "Just the one?"

"Yes sir, one of those double hulled designs, moving slowly for the colony." Kentan enthused, referring to a _T'Loth _class heavy cruiser.

"Fantastic!" Andune grinned. "Charge cannons and ready torpedoes, set us up on a flank attack and tell House Jaddo local command we have a Narn attacker!"

The attack ship swung onto course and without even a warning or demand to surrender locked its weapons on the Narn cruiser. Captain Andune said a quick 'thank you' to the gods for this glorious opportunity to prove his prowess, and then opened fire. The ion and matter pulses hammered the port side hull of the Narn cruiser, sending black debris and puffs of atmosphere erupting into space. The Narn cruiser fired back with its plasma cannons but they had no chance of hitting a fast moving ship like the _Demos_ at such range. Andune brought the destroyer tightly around and locked torpedoes on the Narn ships drive and power plant.

"This'll discourage the Narn from raiding our space!" he grinned widely, imagining the praise and laurels which waited for him. "Destroy them!"

The Centauri ship opened its bow doors and from them dropped a number of small spheres crammed with explosives, they flared into life and raced for the back of the Narn ship, its point defence guns failing miserably to intercept them, and in turn burned into the ships armoured hull, shredding engine connections and containment systems for the ships fusion reactor. Bright orange flames blossomed from the ruptured engines, the force of their escape acting like uncontrollable manoeuvring thrusters and shunting the vessel sideways as secondary explosions wracked the cruiser.

Andune watched with pride as the enemy ship folded in on itself and then ripped like paper, bending its structure and hurling sections of hull across space as its reactors detonated. It was a flawless victory, quick and painless for his ship and worthy of a promotion to a combat fleet, with a little luck.

"Inform base the enemy raider is destroyed, then hold position until reinforcements arrive to confirm our kill."

"Absolutely sir." Kentan replied enthusiastically, this was why he had joined the navy, to achieve a swift victory and progress in social standing based on the attached praise. "I'm glad we stayed for another pass."

"Devotion to duty is always rewarded Commander." Andune smiled. "And today proves that, well done crew, today we proved that we are still Lions."

Alaca Star system

Occupied by the Dilgar

"Now it is in motion, the wheel turns and soon it is our people who will be doing the conquering."

Warmaster Len'char nodded in agreement. "Indeed, you have come far and the time is right for you to take revenge."

The head of Imperial Intelligence was sitting comfortably on the main orbital Starbase created by the Dilgar navy as the local command facility, it was deemed setting up on the surface of the conquered planet was unnecessary and frankly distasteful. The Alacans below were slaves busily mining their own world to feed the Dilgar war machine, the leaders of that military saw no reason to rub shoulders with their workers or visit the dust filled and ravaged world, so they lived above in luxury. He offered his guest another drink, one which was accepted gladly.

"The Centauri destroyed the ship without any warning or attempt to communicate." Len'char said. "Exactly as you predicted."

His companion nodded his bald head, the lizardlike features and faded greying spots hardly noticeable in the dim light. "It was a sad sacrifice." The Narn said. "Our people will be remembered as martyrs like so many others, but it achieved its aim, it created a moment of Centauri aggression I can use to keep our people angry and ready for war."

G'Quonth'Tiel was one of the most powerful members of the Narn Regime, a famed resistance leader during the occupation and now one of the first circle of the Kha'ri G'Quonth was something of a hero, even legend to the Narns, and he would be listened to.

"How will you explain the ship entering Centauri territory?" the Dilgar asked.

"An accident, the ship was experiencing engine troubles and had to quickly enter space wherever it could, fate had it that it was in Centauri territory, unfortunately instead of offering help the Centauri mercilessly destroyed the damaged ship, killing all onboard."

"An excellent story." The Warmaster approved. "It'll whip your people into a frenzy of revenge, they will demand retribution."

"They will, but we must be cautious, we do not want a full scale war with the Centauri just yet, though we are ready." The Kha'ri representative emphasised. "No, but we do think the Centauri want a war even less than we do, and with their current leadership situation they will try and buy us off, giving us a star system or two to keep us quiet, which will satisfy me for now." He grinned and sipped more Dilgar brandy.

"You don't want to conquer the Centauri, subjugate them to your will?" Len'char frowned.

"What sort of question is that? Of course we do!" G'Quonth said loudly with a deep barrel laugh. "But we are a patient race my friend, we don't have the resources to launch a full scale war and probably won't have for many years yet to come. No, we will bide our time, slowly increase our holdings and build our strength until we have a fleet to make the stars dim in fear. Then, on that day, we will teach the Centauri the meaning of revenge."

Len'char shrugged. "So be it, though we are ourselves are not the most patient of races, we believe in settling our debts quickly."

"As we will all soon see!" the Narn laughed again. "You're an ambitious race, I give you that, but also very clever." His face turned serious. "Very clever indeed."

"We know our enemies." The Intelligence chief allowed. "Our campaign in the League will be swift, and when it is concluded we will be a power greater than the Centauri, and powerful allies to have."

"Oh, I agree with that." G'Quonth smiled and drained his glass. "The Kha'ri will formalise our non aggression pact as soon as I return, you can be assured your border is safe from us, in return for the border territories within Drazi space."

"My government hands them to you with gladness." Len'char said. "We've always respected Narns, you have spirit and vision, we look forward to a productive and mutually beneficial future."

"As do we, we will toast our future over the fires of conquest, and the settling of old debts." Once again the Narn laughed heartily, and Len'char sipped his cool drink in amusement.

Jha'dur had not forgotten Len'chars earlier failure, and even as he briefed his fellow Warmasters on the successful Narn treaty she regarded him with cold eyes. Despite the Supreme Warmasters strategic plan she still blamed him for letting the Abbai get a good look at the Balos assault force and so recognize the true strength of the Dilgar navy. Since then the Abbai and Drazi had instituted a massive build up of forces and contingencies which would make the opening campaigns a lot more difficult than they should be. His misjudgement would cost many lives, maybe even his own.

Assembled around a steel table the other leaders applauded him as he finished and sat down, with the Narn border safe and the Centauri consumed in their own agenda there was nothing now to interfere with the invasion.

"Warmasters of the Imperium." Gar'shan now stood and surveyed his subordinates. "The time of destiny is at hand. Each of you knows what is at stake, the great secret and curse of our race. Today we change that. Today we begin our great crusade to bring deliverance to our species. Today the new Dilgar Imperium begins."

Jha'dur clapped politely with the other Warmasters, but her mind was elsewhere. The Drazi fleet had grown greatly over the last year, and while a large force was guarding the Narn border most ships were ready to respond to an attack from Dilgar space. The latest reconnaissance showed major fleets at Latig and Fendimir with the main force deployed as a reserve in the home system. It was a force which could severely slow down the assault, and speed was certainly of the essence in this war. The Drazi were by far the biggest threat.

"You men and women will be leading our people," the Supreme Warmaster continued. "It is you who will shape our destiny, who will drive the will of the Dilgar like a blade into our enemies hearts! Each of you has earned this right through your skill, your dedication and your overwhelming desire to serve our race and see it survive and prosper. Now we will have that chance."

Jha'dur was also concerned about the Abbai, the peaceful race had recently built their first offensive warships, not really a match for the highly aggressive Dilgar fleets but well defended and probably to be used as mobile defence elements rather than fleet units. The Abbai had fortified a few key worlds, including their homeworld and its closest neighbour and the main colony at Utriel with an almost impregnable network of mines, satellites and even battlestations. Any assault on those planets would be mired in its own blood and there was little hope of surprise.

"Go now to your fleets." The great leader extolled. "Go and prepare, we will not meet again like this until we have achieved our primary objectives in the coming campaign, the seizure of forward bases for the continued progression of the war. You all know what is expected of you and your fleets. Go, and always remember, you are the Dilgar peoples last, best hope for survival."

The Warmasters stood, bowed, and then headed for the door.

"Warmaster Jha'dur, a moment if you please." Gar'shan said as she stood. Len'char gave her a cold glance, which she responded to with a wide grin. She was the favourite of the old leader and she made sure her would be rivals knew it, she was better than them and when Gar'shan passed they would take their orders from her.

The last officer left, closing the doors behind him and leaving the Supreme Warmaster and his student stood facing each other across the table. Two generations separated them, Gar'shan had fought long and hard to reach this position while Jha'dur had advanced with lightning speed thanks to her enormous talent and ruthless nature. They were in many ways opposites but had a unity of purpose and respect for each other, both knew they couldn't trust anyone else except each other and that bond was central to their working relationship.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked breaking the silence.

"More than anything." She replied confidently.

"This is total war, the attacks on Balos and Alaca were quick and painless, for us at least, but the coming battles will be bloody affairs. Tens of thousands of Dilgar will die, you will lose friends and confidants. You will lose ships and divisions. You will sometimes lose battles, can you be sure you will not lose hope?"

"We cannot afford to, we have less than five years remaining to our species." Jha'dur spoke gently, the constant fate hanging over them all had shaped her life and choices. "We cannot barter and bargain, we cannot always choose our battles, we must proceed and dominant our enemies through whatever means necessary."

"Good." He smiled, "You remember my teachings. What are the main principles of modern war?"

"Aggression, discipline, planning, adaptability, technology and money. If one is lacking or ignored we will be defeated."

"Correct, you will notice that most races in the galaxy display a few of these traits but each lacks something." Gar'shan explained. "The Drazi are fearsome warriors but their lack of discipline will be their undoing. The Abbai, advanced and stoic but not aggressive enough to drive us back, same for the Brakiri. The Narn and Centauri possess these abilities but do not exploit them fully, we are the only ones who have mastered all the tenets of modern war. Numbers are irrelevant, purpose is irrelevant, victory goes to those who master war, victory will go to us. Seek out weakness and exploit it in your enemies Jha'dur, and victory will be ours."

"Yes Master." She said. "I will not fail, I have never failed."

"I believe you." He grinned. "Your fleet is my silver bullet, you will go where the fighting is fiercest and remedy the situation using whatever means necessary."

"It is my honour to serve Warmaster." She said sincerely.

"Then go, your fleets are massing on the Drazi border. In two days we will take the measure of our enemies and drive them to ruin, for the future my good student."

"To the future, my great mentor." She saluted and with military precision marched out of the room leaving the Supreme Warmaster alone. He paused before following her, contemplating these last few hours of peace in the galaxy before the noise and chaos of war. This was one of those odd moments of total clarity when everything seemed absolutely perfect, he could see every single aspect of his future and the present, he perceived it like a great mechanism of cogs and gears which at this moment was synchronised to perfection. The warships and armies were poised, the enemy apparently oblivious to the attack. The Narn and Centauri were on a collision course and the League was its usual divided self. The Minbari were as silent as ever and the Humans were merely making uncomfortable noises about sentient rights.

The way ahead was completely clear, a long straight road stretching to the horizon with no visible obstacles on it. All they had to do was go forth and kill everything they saw around them, ten long years of planning and preparation had come to this one single moment of perfect vision. The galaxy would never be the same again.

Orion Colony,

Earth Alliance Space.

Private Garibaldi exhaled and laughed a little in relief as he felt some weight pressing back down on his feet. After the best part of a week in zero gravity the sudden return to normal was greatly appreciated, even if it was only on a station and not the planet itself. The shuttle had docked successfully with Red platoon on board and the whole unit had managed to file out in record time, more than eager to get back in a positive gravity environment. As the elevator from the central docking bay headed for the habitat ring the gravity returned gradually as centripedal force began to take effect, rising to Earth normal by the time it stopped and opened its doors.

"Halleluiah!" Private Tucker exclaimed. "I'd forgotten what it felt like to have my stomach settled!"

"The amount of chow you shovel down I'm surprised you couldn't feel it even in zero G." Private 'bugs' Malone observed.

"Save it until we get billeted boys." Lieutenant Sanchez advised. "You all got your hall passes?"

A series of affirmative answers met him as they stepped from the large cargo elevator and out onto the stations main corridor, a long plain set of walls stretching right around the station in a great circle. From outside the base looked like a simple hollow wheel with a central hub for shuttles and spokes leading to the main ring structure. It served as the local command post for military units while a similar but less well armed station orbited on the opposite side of the planet to handle civilian concerns. They were Spartan and cramped but a lot more comfortable than the troop ship. He dug in his pocket and retrieved his billet card, the hall pass as Sanchez had joked, which told him which room he was in and provided access.

"Alright people, go get settled in. See you all at seventeen hundred in the mess, the Captain has your specific assignment and departure times so don't be late." The Lieutenant stated, then headed off for his own quarters. The NCO's and regular troopers were assigned four to a room, while the Lieutenant and other junior officers were two to a room, apparently even the Battalion Majors were having to bunk together due to a lack of space, it seemed like half of Earth force had arrived in this otherwise quiet sector.

On the journey in the 99th had shared their transport with a Battalion of armoured cavalry also heading for Orion. Garibaldi and Bugs had been admiring rows of Thor tanks pinned down on the floors, walls and ceilings of the ships zero gravity cargo holds when one of the units Corporals had turned up and started a conversation over freeze dried ice cream, on odd powdered substance with an expiry date sometime after the sun exploded. The Corporal had confirmed thoughts about the deployment, he'd seen a whole armoured division load up before Garibaldi's unit arrived and heard from some buddies in another unit that at least four more divisions were being sent to other outer colonies. When Garibaldi mentioned the fleet of warships he'd seen over Mars the Corporal had agreed it was just more evidence and decided that there must be a Narn battlefleet on its way to invade Earth space.

While Garibaldi hadn't believed the last part he had believed that things were escalating. He had learned from a crewman on the transport that most frontier patrols were handled by police cutters and sometimes corvettes, almost never by cruisers and certainly not dreadnoughts and carrier battlegroups which the 99th was being deployed as security for. It had unnerved Garibaldi a little but he still held firm to the belief it was just a short term show of force, and that it'd be over soon.

He found his quarters and swiped the lock with his billet card, causing the door to clank open. He threw his kit on the nearest bed while Bugs, Tucker and Private Reiner followed him in and tried to make themselves at home.

"Don't get too comfortable," he warned, a virtual impossibility in these surroundings, "We'll probably be spaceborne again in a day or two."

"Oh. Joy." Stated Tucker with zero enthusiasm.

"Look at this way, at least you won't feel overweight in zero-G, just look it." Bugs prodded.

"Solid muscle this!" Tucker thumped his barrel sized torso. "Anyway, I'd be careful if I were you, wouldn't want to wake up outside the station would you?"

"Knock it off guys." Garibaldi sighed. "Try and get some sleep with normal gravity, it'll be the last for a while so enjoy it."

His fellow soldiers relaxed and dropped on their bunks, and with remarkable speed were asleep. Alfredo reached into his uniform pockets, the all resistant fabric of the clothing proof against all known biological agents, and found his most treasured possession. He took the photograph of his wife and child and pressed it up on the wall beside his bunk, taking a few moments in the dim light to savour the image.

"Good night." He whispered to them, then he too closed his eyes and in minutes was fast asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Hyperspace

"Divisions one to fifty are reporting ready Warmaster." A Captain said with undisguised glee, the prospect of battle clearly very exciting to him. "Our airwings are docked and ground forces prepared to follow us into battle."

"And the supply situation?" Jha'dur asked calmly, her face a picture of neutrality in the busy command centre of the Dreadnought _Conqueror._

"Our vessels are freshly loaded, we have fuel and food for a full six months operation, and approximately two weeks worth of attack craft ordinance and spares. More than enough for our needs."

"Do not be so sure Captain." Jha'dur commented. "There seems to be an attitude that this war will be over in weeks, I assure you it will not."

"I would never question you Warmaster, but our opponents are surely not powerful enough to stop us?" the officer replied respectfully.

"As a whole, no they aren't. however we must be cautious in our planning and execution of battle. We cannot afford constant heavy losses and our enemies will fight with courage if not with skill. Be aware of your enemy, it is the first rule of war."

"Yes Warmaster." He answered.

Jha'dur looked at the banks of screens each showing statistics and reports from her fleet massing for the assault into Drazi space. As the Captain had confirmed everything was ready, and he had also proven the Dilgar fleet had the single most crucial weapon in their arsenal prepared, the confidence and willpower to win. Over a thousand ships had massed in her fleet, with other Warmasters further forward and across at Abbai space commanding similar fleets. The attack was designed as a perfectly simultaneous strike, two fleets would hit Drazi space while another two fleets struck the Abbai colonies. The main reserves would be held centrally to support either operation but Jha'durs personal force would act independently, a sign of her esteem in the Supreme Warmasters eyes, and she had decided to personally oversee the breaking of the Drazi spaceforces.

"I will be in my quarters." She said. "Inform me when the assault fleets begin moving."

"As you wish." The officer nodded and saluted.

Jha'dur made her way to the spacious facilities set aside for the fleet commander. They were simple two roomed quarters and fairly small, but on a warship they were considered almost palatial. She settled down and took a quick sip of a potent Dilgar wine, then activated the private communication system wired into her wall display. In a few moments the desired image appeared.

"Brother." She smiled. "It is good to see you, you are well I hope?"

"You don't have to keep checking up on me every week, I am capable of taking care of myself you know." He said. "But it is good to hear from you."

"You can understand my concern," she smiled. "I hear you will be at the vanguard of our attack on the Abbai, it is a noble and honourable task."

"Indeed, and I wonder if I was assigned this position on your influence?"

She did not answer straight away, frankly if she had the choice she would make sure that Sha'dur was as far from battle as possible and that his command of the leading elements of the fleet was a virtual death sentence. "It is not by my hand, but perhaps someone understands your value." She said, and recognised the affect of his death on the female Warmaster. "Just make sure you live long enough to collect your promotion."

"Consider it a guarantee." Sha'dur smiled. "I know what this battle entails and how the Abbai fight, I have no intention of attacking them head on in a rush for glory like many of our commanders seek to do. I will use some intelligence in the matter and avoid getting my ships cut to ribbons in the guns of the Abbai."

"Just remember the Abbai are powerful in defence but useless in attack, they have no concept of mobile warfare, use these apparent strengths against them, turn their strength into weakness!"

"I will sister, and you watch out for the Drazi, they are supposed to be vicious animals."

"They are." Jha'dur said darkly, an image of her fathers ship burning under Drazi guns came unbidden into her mind. They were going to suffer for the pain they had brought her family in the past. "Brother, do you have the weapons I developed?"

"They are in our magazine on the _Dominator_, our orders are to use them at the earliest opportunity."

"When you deploy them get full readings, as much data as you can." She enthused. "This is ten years of work finally reaching fruition, we must know its effects and the efficiency of the delivery system."

"Sister, you over think these things." He laughed. "Of course I'll take the measurements, I more than anyone know how hard you worked on these devices. They will work, and it will be to the betterment of all our people, and the terror of our enemies!"

"Victory, brother." She announced. "And life to our people."

"Stay safe, you're the only family I have left!" he grinned. "It would get very boring without you."

"Same to you, watch those Abbai lasers, they are very nasty at long range and go through our ships disturbingly well."

"I've seen the briefings." He chided. "You really don't need to keep worrying about me."

"Older sisters privilege." She said.

"Older? By about fifteen seconds!" he chuckled.

"Respect your elders." She said in a firm manner before breaking into a smile. "I will be waiting to hear your victory report."

"And I expect to see yours on the news net. May fate smile on us."

"Fate has nothing which a few well placed nukes won't reverse." Jha'dur intoned. "Trust in your own judgement and don't be afraid to swamp a location with massive firepower if you feel the need."

"I can see why the fleet likes you!" Sha'dur laughed. "With that attitude you'll win a lot of friends."

"Just concentrate on winning battles, remember we don't need to have cities still standing or slave populations, just living space." She told him the same things she told her own officers. "Just destroy everything, leave nothing behind you but blackened ash and it will drive terror before you like a storm. Kill their morale, make them fear you and you have already defeated them."

"I'd hate to be your enemy." Sha'dur observed. "I better go, we're almost at the jump point."

"Take care of yourself." Jha'dur said. "I'll be waiting."

Utriel Colony

Abbai Matriarchy

October, 2230

Once this particular part of the galaxy had been tranquil, a peaceful and blissful location to exist and grow old at. The planet itself was capable of supporting generous amounts of life and had a rich ecosystem along with numerous useful minerals in the nearby asteroids and more barren worlds orbiting the local star. To the Abbai it was a demi paradise and a great many had settled here, but in recent years something had changed.

Now a ship entering the system was greeted by picquets at the jump gate and escorted by police ships along set routes. The planet itself, while still a blue and green orb, was ringed in steel and dormant fire. Vast swathes of mines and gun platforms orbited the colony along with a handful of space stations and orbital control facilities, standing out above them all a massive _Pirocia_ class battlestation that would dominate any battle fought for the planet and its inhabitants. From a distance it looked hugely impressive, but up close it was a slightly different matter. Construction teams were crawling over the station working frantically to finish it and massive bundles of spare parts floated beside it waiting to be attached. It had its teeth, but it wasn't ready for a real battle.

Paul Calendar observed these strengths and weaknesses as his freighter detached from the civilian spaceport within sight of the great complex. The _Space Race_ had been plying its trade across Abbai space for a year now and he had become a familiar sight to the patrol ships between Utriel, Tirolus and Ssumssha. He had also taken the opportunity to travel further into League space delivering cargo shipments to Brakos and Markab space, even a few runs back to Earth space, but most of his trips were within Abbai and Hyach territory. He had first arrived against his better wishes soon after the fall of Balos and at that time the Abbai race was petrified of attack from their Dilgar neighbours. The initial panic had disappeared after a month or so, but to their credit the Abbai government had stuck to its plans and begun a massive military programme to prepare for an eventual war with the Dilgar, the defences at Utriel one of the more obvious statements of that policy. Whoever Paul spoke to they always answered with the same response, it wasn't a case of if the Dilgar attacked, but when.

"Clearing the minefield." Jors said, the massive man manipulating the ships controls with surprising precision and gentleness. There was a moment of hush as the small ship made it past the outer markers, then general relief as they entered empty space. They had been assigned as part of a convoy to Ssumssha transporting civilians from the colony to the greater safety of the homeworld, and the two dozen assorted freighters from various races gathered beyond the defences and formed up underneath the watchful eyes of four frigates. Almost all of their jobs had involved moving people from one location to another, usually from Tirolus which the Abbai had decided to abandon in the face of attack. Knowing they couldn't construct an adequate defence in time and knowing their small fleet could not contest the planet the Government had ordered an evacuation of all civilians leaving just a skeleton military garrison to operate the orbital defences that were there. It had taken almost a year but the entire population had been moved to the more easily defended locations in the Matriarchy and while not always happy they were considered safe.

"Keep pace with convoy." Paul said. "We are after all paid by the hour."

The four crew grinned, they had become very rich thanks to the current climate of anxiety, wealthy business women would pay a considerable amount for a place on a freighter heading for Hyach space or further afield, and by now they could all happily retire in comfort. Paul had wanted to head home a month ago but there were still rich contracts to be had and his crew had convinced him to stay around. Somehow Jenny Shoku kept on finding the premium jobs and making them all very wealthy, it was the best year the ship had ever seen and none of them were ready for it to end.

The convoy was moving gradually towards the jump gate when the sequence activated, bright lights and energy flashing along the four scaffolds as the immense power built up to tear open the vortex.

"Running that a bit early." Toby said from the navigation chair. "Waste of energy and money."

The jump point sparkled open, the tiny blink of light sweeping open into a maelstrom of blue energy before stabilising enough for travel.

"That's an incoming hole." Jors noted. "I didn't think anything was due to arrive in system today?"

Paul was about to agree, when instinct suddenly kicked in.

"Jors, hard about, reverse the port engines and overpower starboard, get us the hell back to the planet!"

"Sir?"

"Just do it!" Paul yelled. "Jenny, get the defence grid on line, I knew this would happen!"

"What?" Toby asked in the confusion, a nervous edge in his voice as the freighter turned sharply and began accelerating away. "What's going on?"

"Invasion."

From the open vortex scores of fighters emerged proceeding at full burn into the system, and an instant later a trio of Destroyers followed them. They were certainly not League ships, they moved with purpose and aggression through the gate and took up positions behind the fighter screen and were forced to rapidly accelerate and turn in order to avoid the confused and panicked convoy. It seemed that neither side had been aware of an opponent right on the far side of the gate and were rather surprised to find their way blocked by a sudden mass of unknown vessels. However while the convoy split and panicked the forces from the gate held course and detached their fighter screens to go and attack the confused enemy.

The four escorting frigates would have been a poor match for one destroyer, let alone three with fighter escorts. Three of them rapidly broke away and accelerated to keep up with the convoy, their guns suddenly spluttering to life against the swarming fighters. One Frigate however did not, it held its course for the gate and increased power to its engines, knowing that it had no chance of taking evasive action the Captain pressed his vessel forward into the maw of the vortex and the new arrivals. It wasn't like the Abbai to perform such an attack, perhaps the ship had a mercenary crew or perhaps finally the desperate situation had triggered something in the peaceful races psyche, on the _Space Race_ Captain Calendar didn't know as his sensors showed the suicidal attack into a storm of bolter fire and plasma. The ship was torn apart and its wreckage floated along beneath the three attacking destroyers and away into the blackness, the tumbling metal representing the end of the uneasy peace in the galaxy and the opening of total war.

"Those are Dilgar ships!" Toby shrieked. "What the hell?"

"I told you they were going to hit the Abbai!" Paul said emphatically. "Didn't I say 'The Dilgar will attack' before we came out here? Didn't I say 'Lets go home before it happens' huh? But oh no, we gotta do one more shipment!" he grimaced. "I hope you're happy!"

"Those fighters are hitting the convoy." Jenny warned. "They'll be after us soon."

The _Space Race_ was smaller than the commercial freighters and much faster, it had completed its turn and was beginning to accelerate away from the main group of ships when the Dilgar fighters reached them. They were met by solid defensive fire but the nimble craft mostly avoided the barrage and began picking off key components of the freighters such as engines, weapons and even deliberately targeting the crew compartments. The Frigate escorts were meanwhile being disposed off by the Dilgar destroyers with contemptible ease, their strong defences keeping them alive for longer than most ships their size but it was clearly a one sided battle. It did however keep the Dilgar warships occupied enough for Captain Calendar to try and make his escape.

"Where to?" Jors asked from the helm.

"Back to the planet, the gates blocked and we can't outrun those fighters." Paul answered decisively. "We'll shelter behind the defences until the fleet is beaten back."

"What fleet," Toby snorted, he was perhaps in his mid twenties and hadn't had the same experience Paul Calendar or Jors had in their travels. "Its three ships."

"That would be the scouting force making sure there aren't any last minute surprises." Paul answered. "A reconnaissance in force. Trust me there are a hell of a lot more on their way."

"He's right." T'Koth said, the Narn rarely spoke despite being a translator and speaking a dozen languages. The crew all looked his way. "They have shown their true colours and fired on the defenders, they know its an act of war and therefore must be prepared to prosecute that war."

"See, even T'Koth agrees, and when does he ever have an opinion?" Paul pointed. "We run, we hide, and then when the Dilgar fall back we go to Earth, any objections?"

"Just from the Dilgar." Jenny responded. "Fighters closing on our six."

"Just our luck." Paul sighed. "If anyone could get caught in the middle of a warzone its us!"

As the freighter made a run for it hundreds of jump points opened up around the gate and from them emerged the main Dilgar battle fleet. There was no doubt now what the Dilgar intentions were, war had come to the League.

Orion colony.

Garibaldi did not move, he stood utterly cool, utterly calm and utterly centred. The mess hall was full of whooping and jeering soldiers, pilots and fleet crews mostly in EA colours and uniforms with a few civilians thrown in all crowded around the two men in the centre of the grey room. One of those men was Garibaldi, the other a Starfury pilot called Booker.

"Come on Booker!" a voice yelled. "Put him down!"

The pilot turned with a big grin and waved his arms, calling for support and getting a loud cheer from his fellow squad and fleet mates. He turned back and stared knives at his opponent Garibaldi. "You're toast man, you are going down so hard your legs will be dangling out in space!"

His trash talk was met by more cheers, and once more he played up to his crowd, eliciting more calls. There must have been seventy people bunched around, lots were stood on chairs and tables for a view over the heads of the group crowded at the front.

Garibaldi for his part did not speak or flinch, he just stood in total silence clenching and unclenching his fists. Booker had insulted his unit, and Garibaldi had demanded an apology. Booker had laughed in his face and continued to mock the 99th which had almost caused Garibaldi to floor him there and then, but he had been restrained by his squad mates and a formal confrontation had been set up away from the NCO's hawk like gaze, and now honour would be served.

"He's a big guy." Private 'Bugs' Malone said quietly in his friends ear. "You sure you're up for this?"

Garibaldi nodded, he was so intensely focused he did not even speak, just watching every move his new enemy made. The pilot kept on circling and clapping his hands, working his side of the crowd up into a frenzy, while behind Garibaldi the infantry shuffled a little in silence, they'd seen this kind of thing happen before and from all the troops in Alpha company no one was as good at these duels as Garibaldi.

"Are you finished?" Private Tucker asked in a curt East London accent, looking up at the large pilot. It was amazing the man could even fit in a fighter. "We've got to go pack in three hours!"

"And not soon enough." Booker answered in a Canadian drawl. "Come on then little man," he thumped his fists together, then opened his huge hands and cracked his knuckles. "Last man standing."

The crowd began to quieten in anticipation, the two combatants moved to within six feet and prepared, Booker rocking back and forth with energy grinning like a maniac, Garibaldi holding the exact same neutral expression he had worn for the last half hour. Tucker stepped between them and with drew a pocket watch.

"When the music stops, begin." He announced, then flipped the lid and the watch began playing a tinkling tune.

Garibaldi made eye contact with Booker, holding his gaze and not flinching. The pilot looked back and forth between Garibaldi and the crowd, unable to hold the mans eyes for long, whether through fear or pure adrenalin Garibaldi couldn't tell. He himself was at a level of awareness he only found during the most intense exercises when all hell was due to break loose. Time seemed to slow and every single sense he had was peaked, everything around him was highlighted in crystal clarity, every noise image and even smell was analysed and stored in his mind in its entirety, from the catcalls of his opponents crowd to the quietly confident smirk on Tuckers face as he glanced at Garibaldi. He was ready.

The watches music slowed, and as it did the crowd fell utterly silent. Booker shifted on his feet ready to make the first move, Garibaldi remained perfectly still, only at the very last moment did he allow a small smile which caused a moment of hesitation in the pilot. Then the music stopped, and as one the two men charged forward.

They skidded to a stop beside one of the mess tables and their hands shot out, each grabbing a huge glass full of an alcoholic substance which defied category. It was a distillation created by equal parts skill and black magic with a kick and an aftertaste that would cause a bear to keel over, drinking a single shot of the stuff was usually enough to cause choking if not out right vomiting, and the measures given to Garibaldi and Booker were much greater.

Both of them managed to down the first glass in one gulp, a triple shot of the foul spirit without flinching. They made a second, causing a quick exhalation from Booker as he downed it a fraction of a second behind Garibaldi. There were three glasses left, the first to finish would be the victor and Garibaldi was easing ahead. Booker grabbed two glasses, one in each hand and swigged them one after the other in an effort to catch up, it probably seemed a good idea in that moment but as he poured down that second glass without stopping for breath he lost it, the vile liqueur catching in his throat and causing him to retch, doubling over and coughing loudly to the groans of his colleagues. Garibaldi leisurely finished his last glance with a grin, and then raised his hands. The green clad troops burst into cheers and applause for Garibaldi, most disputes between units were solved in a similar manner using alcohol instead of simply pounding each other into submission, something far harder in zero G starships, and in those competitions Garibaldi's ability to absorb drink was legendary.

"Come on guys." He said smiling. "Carry me out on your shoulders."

"Yeah, lift him up!" Bugs shouted with a laugh, and the nearest troops raised Garibaldi on their shoulders and carried him victorious from the mess hall where Booker was sprawled on the floor getting looks of pity.

"Don't get delusions up there!" Tucker shouted up. "You ain't that good."

"Its not that," Garibaldi admitted. "If I'd have tried to walk out of there I'd have fallen on my face!" he laughed. "Whatever that stuff was it was evil!"

Tucker laughed, at least Garibaldi had upheld his units honour and maintained its unbroken record of wins. "Have a lie down," he advised. "We want you sober for the briefing in three hours."

"I'll just sit at the back." He groaned, the effects starting to hit him. "Someone take notes and wake me when we gotta load up." He was glad he didn't have to drink on a zero gravity ship, alcohol was banned on deployments and for good reason, holding a drink down while floating to the ships heads was something he'd tried once with disastrous consequences. Never again. He was carried to his quarters, dumped on the bed to more cheers, then left alone in the dark to recover.

Three hours later Garibaldi was one of the last to file into the mess hall, now rearranged to accommodate a briefing. He'd missed evening chow but didn't feel even remotely hungry after the earlier contest, plus his head felt like World War III was being replayed inside. His squad mates had squirreled away some morsels of normal food for him later so he could have at least something before going back to subsistence on standard Earth force MRE's. he got a few rounds of applause as he walked in and sat down, with a disapproving glance from Sergeant Sosobowski and an amused look from Lieutenant Sanchez.

"Over here," Bugs waved. "We saved you a seat."

He dropped in with his squad, collapsing on the chair and stretching his legs forward.

"How you doing?" Bugs asked.

"Like I'm ready to die." Garibaldi answered flatly. "Or maybe I already did."

His group chuckled. "Take it easy Champ." Tucker added. "You should see the other guy."

"He had to have his stomach pumped." Bugs said. "Apparently not pretty."

It might have been meant to make Garibaldi feel better, but instead his stomach began to rumble like a bad tempered Volcano. At that moment the briefing began and he had to concentrate on willing his sudden nausea away, he believed strongly on mind over matter and was putting it into practice as the officers arrived.

"Company!" Sergeant Major Beaudine shouted at the room, the diminutive woman housing a voice as loud and piercing as any male Sergeant. "Company, stand to!"

Alpha company stood rapidly and came to attention as Colonel Longstreet and Captain Franklin arrived and stood at the front of the hall.

"At ease." The Colonel said. "Sit yourselves down Ladies and gentlemen."

For a few seconds the screech of metal chairs on metal floors filled the room, deafening in Garibaldi's delicate head, before silence once again returned and waited for the Colonel.

"As you know we are to be split up and deployed for fleet security duties." Longstreet began with an American lilt in his voice, a high proportion of the 99th was from the North American continent, an accident of geography more than anything else. Most Regiments are raised in given countries and as a result tend to draw on the local populations, so a Regiment raised in Beijing would be mostly Chinese and would likely follow Chinese traditions for naming and specific organisation within the units. As units moved around and received replacements their cultural basis changed as recruits from different nations are assigned to fill places in existing units and slowly over time a Regiment will be as diverse as Earth itself. Currently though the 99th was still less than a decade old and consequently still had a heavy American bias.

"You will be expected to provide internal security for the vessel, protect it from Raiders, pirates, hostile attacks, mutiny and perhaps Space Zombies."

There were one or two chuckles.

"However you will not be expected to conduct boarding actions under fire," the Colonel stated. "I've outlined this with fleet command, we might be covering for Marines but we aren't trained for breaching operations. We may be deployed in non hostile actions however, like aiding ships in distress or arresting pirate crews on disabled vessels, so you might get a chance to stretch your legs."

The company reaction was mixed, some would be glad to get off the ship for a while but others were less enthusiastic about leaving a couple of million tons of heavily armoured mobile fortress. Garibaldi was personally not concerned, Starship deployments tended to be short due to the wasting effects of prolonged Zero gravity conditions on human physiology, even with the so called 'ferris wheels' on board ships, rotating rings which could provide a simulated gravity for the crew to exercise in, most deployments were less than a month, even in war more than two or three months before a rest was unusual.

"This isn't what we trained for, however we are Earth force soldiers and we go where we are told. The 99th has never failed in an assignment and this will not be the first occasion, I know you will do the Regiment proud. Any questions?"

None was forthcoming.

"Very well," the Colonel nodded. "But before you dismiss, Private Garibaldi, stand up please."

The rest of the company went deathly quiet as Garibaldi rose to his feet and snapped to attention, the actions not slowed or dimmed by his adverse condition.

"Private, I understand you represented the 99th in a contest this morning against the 265th fighter squadron, is that correct?"

"Sir, yes it is sir."

"I understand the honour of the Regiment was insulted and you successfully redressed that balance, is that true?" Longstreet asked sternly.

"Yes sir, it is sir."

"Earth force does not approve of drinking contests, and you can thank the fates you were not on duty at the time. Officially Private I strongly disapprove of these actions." The Colonel broke into a smile. "Unofficially, way to go."

The company seemed to exhale at once, a few clapped for Garibaldi once or twice.

"Alright company, assemble at bay twelve in an hour for deployment, do us proud." The Colonel saluted and the Company stood up to attention. "Dismissed."

Alpha company streamed out while the Colonel retrieved documents for the next briefing, he was having to address each company in turn and as Garibaldi left he noticed Bravo company ready to move in. a couple of the guys gave him a nod or a pat on the back, news of his exploits apparently travelled fast. Captain Franklin gave a disapproving stare, but the Colonel had made a decision on the subject so Franklin let it go. Garibaldi was something of a Regimental mascot now and frankly a damn effective soldier, Captain Franklin needed a solid core of troops like him even if they did cause problems at home, in the field they were totally dependable. He saluted the Colonel, then followed his troops out.

"Greetings and salutations!" the exuberant officer smiled widely. "I am Capitaine DeVierre and your host for the next two months."

Garibaldi and Red platoon relaxed a little, two month deployment was ok, they would still be back for Christmas. Lieutenant Sanchez stepped forward and saluted on their behalf.

"Lieutenant Miguel Sanchez sir, reporting for duty."

Devierre returned the salute and laughed. "Please Lieutenant, no need for formality, the _Persephone_ is a relaxed atmosphere and I like to keep it that way. I found that keeping strictly to the regulations in deep space leads to excessive stresses on a crew already stressed by the rigours of space travel."

"Understood sir." Sanchez shifted his kit bag. "We have twenty soldiers, two Sergeants and two second Lieutenants plus myself sir."

"Bon." The Captain said, he was either French or at least a French Canadian, with grey curly hair cut fairly short and a bushy moustache which seemed to dominate his face. He was very pale but sported a fairly large belly and apparently wasn't afraid of eating. Combined with his jovial manner it added up to a man who looked more at home on childrens TV shows, or perhaps as ring master in a circus.

"Commander Philips will see to your needs," he nodded to a slender blonde woman beside him. "But only as far as duty permits, eh?" he chuckled loudly. "There is to be, how do you say it, 'no funny business' eh?" he burst out laughing, Commander Philips smiled weakly and shrugged at Sanchez as if she was used to it. EA regulations were quite clear on relationships between officers, they weren't outlawed but partners would not be allowed to serve in the same command. DeVierre however still considered it a subject of amusement to remind anyone coming onto his ship, and Garibaldi had to admit Philips was damn attractive. "I run a relaxed ship but not that relaxed!" he chuckled.

Commander Philips for her part smiled on, apparently taking no offence at the French mans jest. She'd served with him long enough to recognize him as a sort of mad uncle, he had odd habits and a quirky personality but below the surface she knew he was looking out for her, gently warning off these brusque looking soldiers. He was the father figure of the _Persephone_ and its crew and would fight tooth and nail for his people if they needed it. So she accepted his odd jokes because he was simply the best officer she knew.

"If you would follow me," she said to Sanchez, "We have a shuttle waiting to take us to the ship." She spoke with a faint English accent, although from the Deneb colony she had still managed to pick up her parents home grown accents and keep it through school and the academy.

"Yes Ma'am." Sanchez nodded and turned to address the Platoon. "Alright people, look alive! Sergeant Sosobowski I want them loaded up in four minutes, lets move to it."

The platoon filed past at the quick time, their kit bouncing on their backs while dock workers moved the heavy cases of weapons and hardware that belonged to the platoon. Captain Franklin and the HQ platoon were heading for Altair colony on the _Lexington_ while the three combat platoons of his command were split on the ships operating in the same sector. For once Garibaldi was actually pleased to be on a ship, he wanted a change in his duties and had never done ship board security before, it was something he might enjoy as most of the time it involved doing very little.

"What you so happy about?" Bugs frowned, obviously Garibaldi's face betrayed his thoughts.

"Probably admiring the scenery." Tucker nudged his friend and nodded at Commander Philips.

"Hey guys, I'm a married man!" he protested. "Nah, I was just thinking a bit of ship borne duty might be fun, give us time to practice our zero gravity flips." On the journey from Mars a competition to see how many back flips the guys could do in zero gravity without hitting a bulkhead had become almost an Olympic event. "Besides, I'm kinda hoping to go on a space walk."

"A Space walk?" Bugs scoffed. "You're a grunt not Neil Armstrong!"

"Yeah well, I'm going to give it a try." Garibaldi resolved. "Just once I'd like to see what its really like out there."

"Yeah well I'll be too busy looking around in here." Bugs commented, again glancing at the slender Commander talking to her Captain.

"Even if she wasn't in the fleet, she is so out of your league it ain't funny." Tucker observed wryly. "Say, maybe Garibaldi will find something clinging to the hull which is more your level when he goes for his walk?"

Before Bugs could deliver his witty response the Sergeant had them in the shuttle and strapped in, and five minutes later they were heading for their new home for the next two months, the heavy cruiser _EAS Persephone_ and its eccentric Captain. Garibaldi felt the months were going to just fly past.

Ssumssha.

Homeworld of the Abbai Matriarchy.

Shala'dan looked out in wonder over the gleaming blue and green ocean before him, the bright white sand of the beach shifting by his booted feet. Beyond the breaking waves spires rose up and out of the ocean depths, amazingly beautiful buildings that were slender and graceful yet extremely strong and able to resist the storms of this world and its violent earthquakes. The Abbai were an aquatic people at home both on land and in the sea, though their biology was perhaps better suited for land. They had built great cities in and around water to harbour their population and the underwater buildings were simply a marvel the Drazi ambassador to the League had never seen rivalled anywhere else, of all the places to sign treaties this was by far the most pleasant.

He noticed Alikie, the Abbai representative striding towards him across the beach, the thick forests on the opposite side of the sea providing yet another stunning vista. "Ambassador." He greeted. "I was just admiring the view."

"Spectacular isn't it?" the pink hued female agreed. "My family own land beneath the sea just over there, I grew up in this place."

"Then I suppose you will be used to this view." The Drazi noted.

"Used to it?" she smiled. "You never get used to it, never. For fifty years I've memorised every single spire of this city, and it still awes me to stand here and look at it. I still feel like a child looking for the first time on this scene, this impossible construction and gaping in wonder."

They looked out together on the city for a while longer, an odd pairing of individuals from deeply different backgrounds. The thick set powerful warrior and the slender willowy pacifist, it had to be something extraordinary to bring them together in an alliance, and sure enough they had found a common goal.

"If the Dilgar attack you, my people will strike them with all our might." Shala'dan resolved. "I do not wish to see death and destruction visited on such a place."

"I too do not wish it, we hate war but realise that sometimes the choice to fight or not does not belong to us, sometimes it is thrust upon us." Allikie said sombrely. "The Dilgar cannot be stopped by words, and with tensions between the Narn and Centauri rising it is only a matter of time before our peace is shattered."

The sudden escalation of tensions in the Gorash system had dominated the recent meeting between the Abbai and Drazi. A conflict between the distracted Centauri and the opportunist Narns would be a very bad thing for galactic stability, and might be just the excuse the Dilgar Warmasters needed to expand their war to either the Abbai of Drazi. The meeting had formalised the mutual defence pact between the two peoples, so if the Dilgar did attack one or the other they would face a war on two fronts which would be too great a risk even for them.

"To protect this, and the places like it we must be prepared to do the unthinkable and actively prosecute a war." Alikie said. "It goes against our souls, but we will send an attack into Dilgar space if you are attacked, it is a sad necessity of our age."

"The Drazi will not forget your courage." Shala'dan said. "And we will honour our treaty, perhaps this can be a new start for the League, a way to give birth to a closer binding of our peoples and others?"

Alikie was interrupted by a trilling from her personal communicator. She took out the device and put it to her ear.

"Go ahead." She said calmly.

Thirty seconds later the device was left in the sand, the two Ambassadors sprinting back to the central command post in horror. The foaming surf slowly crept up the white beach, touching and grasping the communicator and slowly pulling it out to the green ocean depths.

Utriel Colony.

"Right! Right! Right!" Paul yelled, the _Space Race_ shuddering under the over stressed engines. On one side a pair of Dilgar Thorun fighters were lining up on them and on the other jump points were opening up and preparing to deposit more vicious looking warships into space. The Freighter was trapped in the middle of what looked like the whole Dilgar navy and every second caused its crew to age by a year. Given the alternative He had Jors steer towards the fighters.

"Jenny, watch right!" he added, the Japanese girl was in charge of the ships four particle cannons and she rapidly brought them on target, the flashing warnings on her tactical screen telling of enemy weapons lock.

The freighter was in no way set up for dogfighting, it was fast and as far as commercial vessels go it was very agile but there was no way in hell it could face a dedicated fighter attack alone, if more dart fighters showed up they were going to be very dead very fast.

The two Dilgar fighters engaged the freighter, plasma bolts slamming into the side of the ship a leaving dark craters in the metal, but thankfully not burning through. They had to cut short their attack run as the _Space Race_ turned towards them, causing the fighters to break on either side to avoid collision with the slab sided vessel. Jenny fired with the defence turrets, the orange particle blasts racing through the dark and missing the agile fighters by a considerable distance. The Thoruns back flipped and continued peppering the hull with plasma gradually eating away at the thick metal protection.

"More ships behind us!" Toby relayed information from the sensors. "Hundreds of them!"

There was no doubt now that this was a full invasion of Abbai territory, the opening phases of a war on a scale beyond anything in recent memory. Paul had read old history books detailing the last great war, that between the Centauri and the now defunct Orieni Empire, and the level of destruction experienced in an interstellar war made World War III back home look like a Church meeting. There was no way he was going to survive something like this for long, their only option was to run like hell but first they had to avoid getting fried by the Dilgar.

"We can outrun their warships, ignore them, just watch the damn fighters!"

The convoy they had followed was not virtually destroyed, shot to pieces by constant fighter attacks. The Thoruns were proving deadly little craft, able to avoid the slow tracking gun turrets of the freighter and then hit back with powerful and precise weapons of their own. There had been a lot of debate about the usefulness of fighters amongst most spacefaring races. The Centauri and most of the League thought they were little more than support and escort units for their big ships with only the Brakiri really exploiting their potential. "The Narn and Drazi saw the potential for multirole fighters and had developed their own which could be used in small groups, but apparently it was the Dilgar who had truly embraced the idea of mass fighter attacks as a valid tactic. Every other race bar the Cascar used them as part of a wider picture supporting attacks, not as an actual strike force in themselves. The only other race which used fighters in a similar way was ironically humans, and at this moment Paul Calendar would have loved to see a squadron of Starfuries rush to the rescue. Instead he just saw more Dilgar forces.

"I'm intercepting a message from the planetary authorities," T'Koth intoned as the ship shuddered under the strain of accelerating. "They're asking the Dilgar if they are lost! They want to know why they are here!"

Jors scoffed from the pilots chair. "Unbelievable."

"Have they activated the planetary defence grid?" Paul asked, with so many ships heading their way it was plainly obvious they weren't on a sight seeing trip.

"Doesn't look like it." Toby read the sensors with a frown. "A lot of ships are milling around but they haven't actually done anything yet."

"What the hell? Didn't they see the convoy get wasted?" Jenny exclaimed. "Why don't they do something?"

"Just watch those fighters!" Paul urged. "T'Koth, open a channel to Utriel control."

Paul had to hold on to his seat for a few moments as Jors put the ship into a roll, seconds later there was a series of violent shudders as the Dilgar fighters made another pass, peppering the hull with fire. He gritted his teeth and suppressed his anger, the local defence fleet should be out here engaging by now, not leaving them swinging in the breeze. There were cries of panic from the passenger compartment but he couldn't worry about calming them down yet, he just had to keep the ship moving and get them all to safety.

"Control, come in control, this is independent freighter _Space Race,_ do you receive?"

Paul held his breath waiting for a response, he was aware of sweat under his arms and on his back but the zero gravity conditions stopped it from dripping, though the occasional turn would cause the dampness to shift. He listened to the faint static on the radio and the muffled thus of the particle cannons recoil further down the ship as they targeted the strafing Thoruns.

"Utriel control here." A dispassionate female voice replied. "This is a military frequency, please clear it for official communication traffic."

"This is a military emergency." Paul said back in a stressed voice, this was no time for bureaucracy. "In case you hadn't noticed there are a thousand Dilgar warships on her tail trying to kill us!"

"We have seen the vessels and are formulating a response." The voice replied.

"Let me save you some thinking time," Paul stated. "Your response should be to frickin open fire on them!"

"We will formulate our own response thank you." The disinterested voice stated coldly.

Paul could feel his frustration and impending doom rapidly overpower his restraint with the officious operator on the other end or the radio. "Listen lady, just where the hell do you think these ships are heading? You've got five minutes before they hit the colony so I suggest you get off you're ass and do something, like scramble the damn cavalry!"

"Without orders from homeworld we cannot send ships into action," the voice said with what sounded like resignation. "Until the threat is classified we must…"

"Look, your superiors aren't sat here about to get their asses shot off." Paul emphasized, the freighter bucking under another barrage of fighter weapons. "Thousands are already dead, the Dilgar slaughtered our convoy without mercy or hesitation and now they're coming for us! I've got two thousand refugees crammed in here, most of them are your own people, so why don't you just issue the damn orders yourself and do something before you have a disaster on your hands!"

There was a long and expectant pause, Paul was leaning forward in his seat almost touching the radio with his nose. Jenny and Jors were busy trying to keep the ship together but both T'Koth and Toby were hooked on the conversation, its repercussions weighing heavily down on them. If orbital control ignored them they were as good as dead.

"Standby freighter, help is on its way." The controller replied in an equally flat tone. While the Abbai garrison may not have sounded enthused the _Space Race_ crew did, a loud shout came from Toby and Paul.

"Roger that control, we're coming in!" the Captain replied with a wide grin. "Okay people, lets just stay alive for a few more minutes!"

That was easier said than done. With the way cleared more Dilgar ships were advancing on the colony itself, swarms of fighters were already very close to the first line of orbital defences and the system was still not activated. There was a narrow passage between the fighter wings which led to the Utriel orbital minefield, it was the only path not currently full of Dilgar hardware so Jors put the ship on a dead straight course and dumped raw fuel into the engines. The effect was like a fighters afterburner ignition, the freighter bolted forward slamming the passengers and crew back into their seats and raising louder cries of alarm from the terrified cargo of refugees. The _Space Race_ was burning days worth of fuel in seconds, a massive jet of blue fire stabbing out from each engine hundreds of metres long propelling the ship towards the gap. The Dilgar fighter were caught flat footed by the ships sudden acceleration and had to put more power into their own thrusters to follow it.

Despite the shuddering Paul could still feel the jolt of weapons impacts, the enemy fighters were still with them.

"Look, ahead!" Toby managed to say through the crushing weight pressing on his chest from the acceleration.

Paul tried to focus his eyes and could plainly see small bright spots outside the window, though whether they were real or an hallucination being brought on by blood being forced from his brain he couldn't quite tell. "What are they?"

"Fighters, friendlies!" Toby grunted. "It's the cavalry!"

The dots twinkled and then with rapid speed resolved into blue toned fighter craft. They rushed past the battered freighter and engaged the following unit of Thoruns with a clash of plasma.

"Keep on the throttle." Paul choked out. "Don't slow down!"

Paul's caution seemed well founded, the Abbai fighters shot down the pair of Thoruns that had been dogging the _Space Race_ but as soon as they ran into a more equally numbered fight they began to lose quickly. The light weight Kotha fighters used by the Abbai were totally new, a rapid development of an Alacan design rushed into service to face the expected Dilgar attack. The pilots had trained on these new craft but had never seen battle before, and against the Veteran Dilgar pilots they began to fall in droves.

"Coming up on the minefield." Toby informed them. "I dunno if its activated yet!" his voice was still muffled by the effort of talking in under the massive G-forces.

"We'll soon find out." Paul admitted. As the ship careened forwards he suddenly wondered if they could decelerate fast enough to avoid hitting the planet that was by now filling their view.

The ship shot through the minefield, thankfully not setting off any of the silent defences. Orbital command had left that section offline not just for the Earth freighter but for the system defence ships retreating behind the planetary defence grid.

The brief fight in the face of the advancing Dilgar fleet had been short and decisively beaten, none of the fighter units made it back and only two _Tiroca_ class battle frigates managed to get back from their patrols in time, the other three groups offering target practice for the Dilgar heavy warships. A sizeable force had been stationed in orbit including a handful of cruisers, these vessels now formed up alongside the weapons platforms to act as additions to the planetary defences as facing the Dilgar in open battle was suicide.

The _Space Race_ cut its engines and to everyone's relief the G-forces disappeared, Jors put the ship into a steady orbit and began firing retro thrusters.

"Wait," Paul said. "Don't kill too much velocity, just keep us going around in circles over the planet, we might want that speed if all goes badly here."

"Badly?" Toby shook his head. "This place is a fortress, mines, guns fleets even a battle station! The Dilgar would be insane to attack a place like this!"

"I don't think they brought all those ships all this way just to pick off some freighters and then go home." Jenny commented from her chair, it was unusual for her to add an opinion to proceedings, most of the time she simply observed events and followed orders. "They're going to hit this place."

"Then they'll get their feline asses kicked." Toby slapped his hands together. "And they'll deserve it."

"The Abbai have spent the best part of a year fortifying this place." Paul said, gazing wistfully at fighters and ships rushing around in the distance. "Its probably better defended than Earth, I can't see how they can break the defences, it'd be a slaughter."

"But they will attack." Jenny said with quiet confidence. "We should be ready to run, just in case."

Paul turned to Jors. "Do we have enough fuel to make the Jumpgate?"

"Yeah," the big Swedish native nodded. "But we can only travel maybe two jumps out, then we'll have to reload."

"Okay." He nodded. "Okay, lets keep the passengers onboard, they wanted to go to their homeworld we can still do that, it'll be safer than here. Anyway it'd take too long to unload them and I don't like giving back money."

That got an agreement from Toby.

"We wait here until the Dilgar retreat, then make for Ssumssha." Paul outlined. "Once we drop off the passengers we run for home, any questions?"

"Just one," Jenny spoke. "What if the Dilgar don't go away and instead smash through the defences?"

Paul shrugged. "We follow the same plan only a hell of a lot faster. With half the Dilgar navy around us I think we can make the jump gate in record time, don't you Jors?"

"Or die trying." The pilot growled.

"There we are, we have a plan." Paul grinned to show his confidence, a feeling he didn't have but wanted to at least inspire in his crew. "A good plan, we'll run away no matter what, get the hell back to Earth and never speak of this again, deal?"

"Deal." The crew said in unison.

Paul returned his attention to the scene outside, it was shaping up to be a nasty battle and he was in for a ring side seat. The Dilgar forces slowly formed up and arranged themselves into squadrons beyond weapon range. He couldn't see any troop ships which seemed odd for a planetary attack force, but that was more a conundrum for the Abbai military. All Paul wanted to do was survive, and in that he was no different to anyone else on the ship. Politicians and Generals may see war as a means to gain something tangible for themselves, or to live up to some sort of ideal, but for those actually doing the fighting survival was high on their list of priorities. Their own survival, the survival of their friends and comrades, the survival of those they were sworn to protect and fight for. Paul remembered a quote he had heard his father use, it said that in war there are no winners or losers, just survivors.

As the Dilgar fleet arrayed for battle, survival was the only objective of the defenders of Utriel.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

Narn Homeworld.

"Fellow members of the Kha'ri," Q'Quonth' Tiel began his announcement to the leaders of the Narn Regime. "Today is a day which will go down forever in history."

The dusty chamber remained mostly quiet, the large round chamber rose up in concentric circles on ever higher tiers, each tier holding slightly more representatives then the previous one. At the very centre was a flat circular area from which addresses were made to the Kha'ri, and surrounding it was the 'First circle' the tier closest to the floor and home to the greatest and most wily of the Narn leaders, every one of them a legend to his or her race and heroes of the war of liberation which drove away the Centauri. G'Quonth paced the open floor as he spoke, his words reaching back through the chamber to the very farthest circle.

"Today we see a strike for justice!" he continued. "Our friends in the Dilgar Imperium have begun a campaign to drive out the piratical League raiders who have for so many years dogged and preyed upon them, they have begun attacking bases in the League which have harboured and given shelter to raiders with the knowledge and permission of those same governments."

There were a few murmurs in the oppressively warm chamber, its thick concrete walls and armoured roof were great for protecting the rather paranoid representatives from attack, but was certainly not designed for air circulation. Up on the Third Circle a relatively new politician watched the great orator speak. He, like the rest of his generation had done his part to remove the Centauri, he had their blood on his hands and their looks of fear and pleading imprinted on his mind. The last days of the occupation had been hell for both sides as law and order broke down and a slaughter had erupted, and he would never forget the villainy of the Centauri occupation forces razing entire cities to the ground out of sheer spite as they withdrew. As far as he was concerned the war was still ongoing, and only when Centauri prime was a ball of ash would it be over. Representative G'Kar focused his mind and continued to watch and listen.

"We in the Narn Regime know a little about justice," G'Quonth smiled to the crowd. "And we do not condemn the Dilgar for this attack, rather we support it!"

Again the chamber was slightly quiet, G'Kar was straining to hear a conversation in the Second Circle when a delicate breath blew in his ear.

"The poor old fool." The feminine voice said. "Watch closely, this is how a political career ends."

G'Kar glanced to the side, recognising Ta'Kai, a well known and highly intelligent teacher at the planets most prestigious university. Her gift of intellect had seen her readily elected to the Kha'ri and she now occupied a position equal to G'Kar. He nodded to her and kept watching the rather well staged speech.

"However, we cannot provide direct assistance to the Dilgar due to our own quarrel with the Centauri, we will support them and recognize the legitimacy of the war." The speaker called out, his rather large belly prominent as he raised his arms.

"That's a mistake." Whispered Ta'Kai again. "He is associating us with the Dilgar attack which is extremely unwise."

"How so?" G'Kar frowned. "Q'Quonth has been very careful in his dealing with our neighbours."

"Very careful indeed," she smiled thinly. "But he has also been played by them. They have filled his head with dreams of glory, of wresting worlds from the League and the Centauri which will never happen."

G'Kar gave her a look, he hadn't heard any of this. "How do you…?"

"I have means." She smiled. "And let us leave it at that." she returned her calculating gaze to the chamber floor. "Q'Quonth has placed us in a problematic position, we are hurtling towards a stand off with the Centauri with a full scale war erupting on our borders thanks to the Dilgar. This should be a time of caution, not recklessness."

"The Centauri are weak." G'Kar said firmly. "And their new Emperor seems even weaker than the last one! This is the best time to capitalize on their failings!"

"No, it isn't." she said. "It's the worst time because without a strong central authority the Centauri houses will act alone, and we've seen in the past the individual houses are far more warlike that the Republic as a whole. If we press one or more houses will go to war and the Emperor will have no choice but to support them, if he doesn't he'll wake up one morning with a knife to his throat."

G'Kar did not respond straight away, instead looking down at G'Quonth. The man had been instrumental in the resistance movement, he was hailed as the greatest living Narn, surely he would not do something so foolish as to start a full war before his people was ready.

"I refuse to believe Q'Quonth would wish to start a war with the Centauri, no matter how much he desires it. He is no fool and has said time and again we must build our strength before challenging the Centauri, only when victory is certain should we act."

"You are right G'Kar." She agreed. "I expect he does not realise his actions will lead to war, he has had too much Dilgar poison dropped in his ear lately, he trusts them when they say the Centauri will retreat from Gorash when I think they will fight for it. It may be him talking, but the words come straight from the Dilgar Warmasters."

Q'Quonth was still pacing the floor, now talking about the weakness of the Centauri and how they had mercilessly destroyed a lost and damaged Narn ship. It was the sort of speech given before war was declared.

"We cannot risk a war G'Kar." Ta'Kai said. "The Dilgar want us distracted, they want a war between us and the Centauri. They want our two peoples to bleed each other dr so that when the victor emerges they can come and strike him down."

"Even if Q'Quonth doesn't see that, the First circle must." G'Kar prompted. "He cannot act alone, he must have the backing of the Kha'ri."

"Look around you." She said. "See how they all hang on his every word? None of them would question him, they would follow him blindly into the teeth of hell itself. Admirable, but useless."

"So lets assume that our greatest leader wants to take us to war." G'Kar began.

"Ah-ah," Ta'Kai chided. "He wants to take Gorash, he doesn't realize it will spark a war because he thinks what the Dilgar want him to."

"Fine, so what do you propose?" G'Kar gave her a sideways glance. "Unless this is just all idle conversation?"

"Simple, we remove the Dilgar influence from our council." She said. "They have given us the means to do so."

"What do you mean?" G'Kar frowned.

"G'Quonth himself." She smiled. "He has declared support for the Dilgar, yet he does not appreciate what that means. Have you seen how the Dilgar fight? Very dirty, very nasty. It'll enrage Galactic opinion and he has just ensured we Narn will be just as vilified for supporting them. We must sever ties with the Dilgar, and that means replacing G'Quonth."

"Ah, I see." G'Kar nodded. "You're nuts." He smiled and edged away.

"I expected more from you, of all the Kha'ri you at least seemed to have a brain." Ta'Kai said sullenly.

"I do have a brain," G'Kar replied. "And right now it is yelling 'Treason! Treason!' and I imagine myself in prison forever. No thank you, you want to depose our leader you will have no patsy in me."

"If we go to war, we will lose. The only winners will be the Dilgar!"

"I realise you feel for our people, but I suddenly also realise G'Quonth's removal will open up a place within the first circle, how convenient if you could fill it?" G'Kar grinned. "You are clever, but I am not convinced. The Dilgar and Centauri are too preoccupied at the moment and nothing bad will happen to us."

"Well if it does." She said coolly. "I will be waiting for you to offer your help."

G'Kar smiled. "Then I hope you are very, very patient."

Utriel colony,

Abbai Space

From a distance they looked almost like a swarm of insects. They had a mottled green colour patterned across their bodies, with heavy and angular thoraxes wich led into a long slender abdomen terminating in a bulky collection of blocks and cylinders. The most striking feature of these insects however were their maws, blood red openings flanked by look vicious looking mandibles curving like scythes out in front of the Thorax. An assortment of spikes and blades studded their fronts and added more menace to their silhouettes, they were hunters, predators of the void and they were gathering for their prey.

Fleet Captain Sha'dur was part of this gathering, thousands of ships, two entire warfleets of the Dilgar Imperium had assembled for this opening battle, with a further eight preparing to attack in other regions of space within the next few hours. It was the greatest show of strength anyone could remember and made the Centauri actions of the Orieni war look like amateurs fumbling around in the dark. The timing and precision was exquisite, the plan flawless and the will to see it through unshakeable. On this day their names would never be forgotten, honoured by generations of Dilgar to come and feared by their enemies through all time. History was waiting to be written.

Jors gave the panel a long look, then punched it. Nothing happened.

"You know punching it won't make it do what you want." Toby said from behind the pilots chair.

"Funny." Jors grunted. "Works fine on people." He turned and gave Toby a very deliberate smile.

The young navigator chuckled, he'd been on the crew long enough to spot when Jors made a joke, and his rather odd sense of humour had become something of an acquired taste. Despite his years in the crew he had never seen Jors lose his temper, sure he'd been in fights and brawls but the big man had never once lost his composure or gotten emotional. He was an utterly ice cool individual, which made him an excellent pilot and had allowed the _Space Race_ to survive its recent drama, though not exactly intact.

"No joy?" Paul floated up into the cockpit where all five crew would sit during flight operations.

"Radio's busted." He said. "I might be able to fix the short range stuff, but the long range antenna's must have been shot off." Jors punched the comms control unit one more time with no appreciable results.

"Consider it a secondary priority." Their Captain said. "The big deal is engines, how are they?"

Jors exhaled. "Not great, they weren't designed for overthrusting, let alone full on afterburners. Really we need a space dock to overhaul them, a lot of the systems are fused together from the heat, but on the plus side they should hold together long enough for us to get out of here, but I wouldn't recommend putting too much juice through them again."

"But if we have to we can?" Paul asked and received a nod in return. "Good, keeps our options open."

"What's up with the passengers?" Jors asked, utterly calm.

"Shaken but not stirred." Paul answered, quoting from the latest 'James Bond' movie. "Couple of minor injuries, Jenny is patching them up while T'Koth tells them its all gonna be fine."

"And is it going to be fine?" Toby asked the obvious question.

"Come on, take a look out there." He pointed out of the forward window. "There are more satellites and mines out there than I've ever seen, plus a beefy fleet and a battle station."

"A half built battlestation." Toby corrected.

"Yeah, but the half with guns." Paul smiled. "The Abbai are masters of defence, no one has broken their lines yet, even the Centauri got their noses bloodied when they tried in the past, and the defences back then were nothing compared to all this. The Dilgar are great at picking off isolated worlds, but this is the senior league now, they're going down hard."

"Warmaster Rah'mas to fleet, begin the assault."

On the bridge of the _Ochlavita_ class heavy destroyer _Dominator_, the solid back bone of the Dilgar navy, Sha'dur closed his eyes for a moment. A million thoughts and images flashed through his mind as he relaxed for a precious moment, the last moment of silence before the terror began He centred his thoughts, clinging on to the warm images of home and family to give him heart and courage in this coming trial. Unlike many in the fleet Sha'dur did not hate the Abbai and did not take it personally that they were preparing to kill them by the millions. For him it was simply a job, a task that had to be done to ensure the ultimate goal of keeping the Dilgar race alive, he didn't fel any connection to his enemies, some would say victims, no more than he would feel for locusts that required extermination. His sister had called it survival of the fittest, the weak died and the strong lived and that was how it had always been, in this case it was the Dilgar who were the strongest. Now came the moment to prove it.

"Engines ahead flank." He ordered, his eyes still closed. "All weapon batteries prepare to fire, there is no turning back now."

The warship shuddered as the powerful engines came to life and began to build up speed behind the craft, he could feel the vibrations throughout his body and literally shivered with both excitement and fear, adrenalin surging through his blood stream and making his chest feel light. In the same instant across the frontline the mass of Dilgar vessels began their approach towards Utriels defences, wave after wave of fighters accelerated past the capital ships and fearlessly drove for the teeth of the Abbai guns. There was no finesse, no fancy tactics or inspired manoeuvres could win this battle, the enemies lines were just too tightly wound and carefully deployed. The only option the Dilgar had was to hit the planetary defences with everything they had and hope it gave way before their fleet collapsed. It wasn't going to be pretty and many fine warriors were going to die in the next few hours but Victory had that price and must be paid.

Sha'dur opened his eyes, gripped his chair and waited to come into firing range.

"Movement." Deck officer Trinki warned.

"Speed, type and bearing?" Captain Cashik asked.

Cashik was commanding officer of the cruiser _Syonar_, one of the new _Lakara_ class ships of war which had recently been added to the Abbai police and patrol fleets. She and her crew were considered veterans among her people and the core command staff had served together for over ten years scouting the borders of their space and working with the more aggressive League naval forces. Their broad experiences meant they were one of the first crews assigned to the new warships which were considerably bigger and much meaner than their beloved patrol ship, and just about the whole crew had been very uneasy about their new role within the fleet. Nothing official had been said but everyone knew that sooner or later they would be expected to go to war and actually kill other people, a thought which turned Cashiks stomach. Fortunately the government had hired mercenaries to man weapons consoles in the new Abbai navy to combat this problem and make sure there was no hesitation in battle, in the _Syonars_ case it was a Brakiri male named Franir with intricate tattoos over his face indicating he had been part of a criminal brotherhood. Despite his unsavoury back ground he was polite and courteous to the mainly female crew and his presence meant all Cashik had to do was keep her ship pointing at the enemy and Franir would do the rest.

Unfortunately it seemed as if they were about to be tested. She had hoped the Dilgar would take one look at their defences and just go home, the government seemed convinced that would happen and had always believed in deterrence as the primary means of winning a war, after all it hadn't failed them yet. The Dilgar did not seem to have paid much attention to the governments resolutions however and were now burning ahead for the planet in a suicidal frontal assault.

"Dilgar ships entering our sector, mixture of attack ships, destroyers and cruisers." The sensor officer said with a slightly awed tone. Cashik shared her amazement with the Dilgar, the numbers were beyond anything she had ever seen before and the bravery of their attack defied logic, although to her all war defied logic. "Fighters are leading the way, they'll be at the minefield in seconds."

"Battle stations." Cashik ordered. "We will position ourselves in front of any breaches in the line, Mister Franir if you would do your duty at that time it would be appreciated." That of course meant kill anything that gets through the lines, but obviously she couldn't form those words.

He nodded grimly and began powering up the lasers, this would be only the fifth time the main weapons had been activated and the first time in anger, thankfully they all powered up normally. The targeting system began cycling through targets and feeding data to the weapons controls which made the minute adjustments for long range fire. The ship was ready.

"Message from sector command." One of the officers announced. "They're reminding us twenty million people are on the planet below and hundreds of civilian ships are in orbit. They urge us to harden our hearts and not to hesitate in the coming battle. This is our greatest test and we must not falter. They wish us luck."

Cashik nodded, command was located on the nearby _Pirocia _class battlestation which looked deeply impressive on paper with ten times the firepower of the average ship and a battery of shields particle impeders, and from even quite close it looked menacing with heavy weapons bristling from every angle, more like a Drazi facility than a product of the Abbai. Unfortunately inside the station there was virtually nothing completed, the weapons and defences had been rushed in under the emergency conditions of the last year but the stations fusion reactors were still being built in the home system, the base had maybe a third of its power needs meaning most of its weapons would be useless. They had hoped the Dilgar would assume it was operational and back off, but apparently not. Somewhere inside Cashik wondered if the Dilgar even cared if it was operational, whether they would have gone home if it met them with a massive alpha strike. She doubted it.

"Enemy ships entering the minefield." Her sensor officer confirmed. "Defences responding."

This was it. With a heavy heart Cashik took her crew to war.

Space glimmered with a thousand twinkling lights like a dark cloud parting to reveal the stars behind. Each little point of light was an ion engine coughing into life and driving forward a captor mine from the first layer of defences. The mines swarmed forward like a cloud of fireflies and homed in on the leading elements of the Dilgar fleet, in this case Thorun fighters.

Sha'dur watched the mines activate with great intensity, calculating in his mind how many casualties they would cause and how best to deal with them. Sweepers would have been a waste of time, easy pickings for the orbital defences, there was only one way through this.

"Order fighters to target the mines, destroy them anyway they can. They must not hit our ships."

The Dilgar fighters engaged afterburners and tore forward, spitting plasma bolts at the small missiles with great vigour and determination. They managed to shoot down a respectable number of the first wave, but with two more waves of mines activating and streaking for the assault ships they were never going to shoot them all down, so many pilots chose not even to try. Ordered to defend the fleet at any cost they placed their craft in the path of anti ship weapons and rammed them, destroying both the missile and themselves in a bright pyre. For a decade the population had been whipped into a frenzy of ultra nationalism and xenophobia by the Warmasters and by this point the vast majority of them believed their was no greater glory than to die in battle for their people, and so they embraced death readily and made the sacrifice en masse to blunt the Abbai's retaliation.

The _Dominator_ took a solid hit from a heavy missile, cracking open a section of hull and severing power lines. The ship faltered momentarily and then continued on as damage control shifted the vessels systems around the damaged area. The space before the Dilgar fleet was awash with exploding fighters and mines as they gradually pushed through the outer lines by sheer attrition, the bolters on his own ship adding their fire to the barrage sweeping the minefield.

"Fleet command is ordering the first wave forward." His second officer reported.

"Monitor their progress closely." Sha'dur replied. "Watch where the enemy fire comes from and plot firing solutions on likely targets." It was almost guaranteed the twenty ships of that first attack would be cut to pieces, they were little more than a method of testing the enemy defences and showing up weak spots in their firing arcs. "Keep a particular eye on that starbase."

"Enemy vessels closing fast."

"Prepare main batteries." Captain Cashik nodded. "Fire at will."

Franir watched the enemy vessels enter range, a mix of cruisers and destroyers which represented quite a powerful force, many showed the scars of mine impacts but so far the Dilgar had lost no major warships thanks to the fighter screens. Their losses so far would have caused a Brakiri force to pull back and reassess their strategy but apparently the Dilgar regard for any life, even their own, seemed scant.

The sensors across his panels lit up with warnings, a second later the entire Abbai battle line fired, lines of red laser fire tangling across the sky mainly from defence satellites punched through the Dilgar ships, often passing clean through the relatively weak hulls and disappearing away on the other side. Six of the warships exploded immediately leaving nothing larger than a shuttle in their wake, the other ships were wracked with secondary explosions and gutted from the inside out leaving them dead hulks drifting powerless.

"Serpents teeth." Cashik whispered in awe, she had never seen such firepower and despite the terrible number of deaths she had just witnessed it had still impressed her. "The must surely retreat now."

Franir wasn't so sure.

"There, look!" Sha'dur exclaimed triumphantly pointing to a display of sensor data. "The battle station barely opened fire despite being well within range and firing arcs! Our scouts were right, it has no teeth!" Intelligence reports gathered from Dilgar ships disguised as freighters had hinted that the battlestation was barely functional, apparently they were right.

"Command has seen it too, the Warmaster is ordering us to concentrate on that sector."

"So be it." Sha'dur inhaled deeply, letting the air fill his lungs and raise his chest. The glory of battle had covered him, he felt no fear or doubts just the clear knowledge that he had a mission to complete and he knew exactly how to do it, he felt almost as if the battle was already won and the Abbai were a mere formality. "Take our place in the assault echelons and drive us forward."

The Dilgar fleet as a whole began to move now, heading for a location just to the right of the first sacrificial attack. Sha'durs squadron was in the fifth line of the attack and he could already see the defences firing on the ships at the head of the attack. The red lances of Abbai lasers were matched by pulses of Dilgar bolters aiming for the local defence satellites, with their simple construction they vanished with only a handful of hits.

"Send in our fighter screen, have them go for the weapons platforms." Sha'dur ordered, rejoicing in every shudder and muffled thud from his ship telling of weapons firing somewhere deep in his command. There were still enough mines to cause problems and two light cruisers were listing badly with white atmosphere spewing forth from their hulls, gaping holes showing where they had struck a hidden field.

Up ahead the battlestation struck an attacking destroyer and severed its engines from the primary hull. The warship continued engaging as it spun out of control until a pair of Abbai cruisers finished it off. Sha'dur noted that despite the attack the station had barely fought back and that its hull was marked by the return fire, something the heavily shielded station should have avoided.

Missiles spouted from the Dilgar fleet, the carefully timed volleys weaving through the combating ships and hitting satellites with pin point precision. The Dilgar fleet were pushing forward, losing ships every minute but driving surely into the defences.

"This is so not good." Toby concluded in a slight panic. "They're almost past the lines!"

Captain Calendar looked at the _Space Race's_ admittedly limited sensor suite. It wasn't a good system but it told him everything he needed to know, the Dilgar were engaging the main line of defence satellites and if they were destroyed it'd just be the incomplete station and the defence fleet standing in their way. As a gambling man he wasn't keen on those odds.

"Take a look out there." Jors pointed from his seat out of the window. Paul followed his direction and spotted some engine flare in the distance. "Some of the other freighters are already preparing to leave."

"We should too." Toby said. "I don't want to be here when the Dilgar show up again, we barely made it last time."

"Its too early to run." Paul stated calmly, giving Toby an assured look. "We'd just fly into the main Dilgar force. Now the engines are charged, the people strapped in, if we have to go we can be moving in seconds but lets not try anything hasty."

"There is a major force watching the gate." Jenny added. "Bunch of cruisers and gunships."

"Probably waiting to hit any Abbai reinforcements." Paul commented. "So there's no easy way out anyway. Sit tight and take it easy, the battle isn't over yet."

"Speaking of, look at these readers." Jors pointed out. "Something big is about to happen over there." He pointed to the battle zone. "I think our Abbai friends might not be so open as we thought."

A sudden warning chime caught Sha'durs attention. His ship was almost at the front line and blasting away at Abbai defences, massive waves of energy fire were sweeping each way as the fleets grappled holding nothing back. Every gun on the _Dominator_ was firing on the satellites along with the rest of his group, above and to their right Warmaster Reh'mas' Dreadnought and a solid escort of _Tratharti_ gunships were exchanging fire with the battlestation, the Abbai defenders had put most of the bases energy into its shields meaning the powerful command group was having a hard time scoring damage, but at least wasn't taking fire in return. Fighters and frigates were constantly darting around his ship, occasionally they were nothing but wrecks and it was momentum kept them in formation, it was a deeply eerie sight to see destroyed ships still in combat formation advancing forward like a fleet of ghost ships or a spectral fighter squadron blackened and charred by war.

"What's that warning" He called across the bridge.

The sensor officer paused for a moment, he'd been too wrapped up in monitoring the battle ahead to notice. "Sir, its an energy reading sir, not localised. Its all around us."

"What could cause it?" he asked to be answered by a shrug. "Well guess then!" he demanded.

"I would guess, I don't know, perhaps a mine field?"

Sha'durs eyes widened in sudden terror, the reading was all around the ships currently engaged, including his own.

"But sir, we've already neutralised the minefield with our fighters."

"We hit the mines that went active, the captor mines." He said quickly. "But what about other types!" He had a sudden premonition of five hundred warships suddenly evaporating in a titanic fireball. "All engines, full reverse! Get us back!"

"Energy spikes, everywhere!" the sensor officer called in alarm. "Mines!"

Before the words had even settled in Sha'dur was deafened by an echoing explosion and the scream of ripping metal. The _Dominator_ jolted sideways with sickening force and only his restraints kept him from being smashed into a bulkhead. There was a second crack, and this time cold air rushed out of the bridge with hurricane force tugging his hair and uniform and filling him with a deep cold. Red lights and sirens wailed over the howling wind warning of a hull breach which Sha'dur had more or less worked out for himself. His mind went completely blank, he couldn't think of a single damn thing, not ways to escape or plans to execute, he couldn't visualize the damage to his ship or even decide if he was prepared to die or not. It was as much a vacuum within his head as it was rapidly becoming outside.

The sensor officer was hurled past his station still strapped into his chair, banging off the ceiling and nearly decapitating Sha'dur as it crashed along the bridge in a shower of sparks and down the corridor behind, any cries of terror masked by the howling gale.

He closed his eyes tightly, the cold air stinging them and held tight to his chair, straining in the restraints. He could feel the vibrations in the hull and hear the supports and braces giving way somewhere deep beneath his feet, it seemed the ship was dying with him. There was another much closer rumbling, a more solid vibration and as it proceeded he felt the gusts slacken, though the cold remained the same. With a metallic clang the wind stopped and a heavy silence engulfed the bridge.

"Report!" he croaked. "Damage report!" he managed a little louder, and then realised the Sensor officer was no where to be seen, the memory of his rapid departure stabbing his mind and forcing him to get back with the programme.

He unhooked his restraints and staggered forward with an awkward gait, his legs not quite working right. He forced himself back into control, absently noticing frost on his uniform and his breath misting before his eyes as the bridge remained deathly cold, its warmth stolen away by the wind. Sha'dur got to the station and examined it, the ripped bolts where the officers seat had been torn away feeling ragged beneath his boots.

The panel was still operational and showed the entire port side of his ship in ruins, a hull breach two sections behind the bridge had opened and was the cause of his sudden near death experience, only the closure of pressure doors had saved him. Incredibly it had only lasted five seconds, it seemed like hours. The reactor was being restarted and power was flowing again through his ship, but it seemed he was one of the lucky ones despite the tremendous damage, most of the ships ahead of him were nothing but wreckage.

A message was filtering through on all channels, it was for a general retreat.

"Hot damn what a show!" Toby performed a backflip in the Zero G cockpit of the freighter, earning a disapproving look from Jors. "That was amazing!"

The Abbai were renowned for their mine warfare, and apparently with good cause. Paul had to admit that even he was surprised at how sudden the reversal had been, the best ships in the Dilgar assault were broken wrecks and the survivors were turning tail to run. He could see the ships attacking the battlestation including what he expected was the fleet commanders vessel were utterly destroyed and something like two hundred ships of various classes had been annihilated in seconds.

The Abbai success was based on cheap proximity mines, the type common across the galaxy. The only difference was the Abbai mines were so sophisticated as to be almost invisible to anything except pure minesweepers unless activated which had meant the Dilgar fleet cruised right past them until they were right in the thick of them, and only then had they detonated with staggering consequences.

"Guess we won't need to run away just yet." Paul grinned. "But we are still going home after this!"

"The Warmaster is dead!" a frantic crackly voice screamed on the fleet wide communication net. "We must withdraw!"

"We do not run!" Sha'dur shouted with a force he didn't know he had, the very effort of breathing pained him and shouting was like a kick in the chest, but he had to keep the fleet together. "We won't get another chance, press on!"

"Its hopeless!"

"Never!" he roared. "They have sprung their surprise and we still live! We have survived their worst and come through breathing! We will take the war to them, they have nothing else left, attack now!"

"With what, our fleet is tattered!" the voice of doubt kept talking.

"We are still Dilgar! While we have our bodies we have a weapon, our courage is all we need!" he snarled. "All I ask you to do is follow me!" he punched off the console.

"Orders sir?" his helm officer asked formally, the bridge was slowly warming up and it gave Sha'dur an infusion of spirit.

"All ahead full, hit them with whatever is left and if we die, then we die well."

The _Dominator_ laboured forwards, its hull as charred as the wrecks surrounding it. With supreme effort of will it was moving forward again now at the head of the attack. For a while he was alone, a single crippled ship ready to face the Abbai lines, but then more vessels fell in beside him, and then more. Fighters once more blazed in the sky and the battered assault echelons regrouped into something resembling a battle line. The reserves watching the jump gate were summoned and came fresh to join their comrades in the second assault, with a fresh sense of purpose driven by revenge for their dead and a need to honour their memory the attack was renewed. Sha'dur didn't even consider that it was he now who led these ships, he just pointed his ship at the enemy and advanced with all guns blazing.

The sense of elation onboard the _Syonar_ evaporated faster than ice on Brakos. Where at one instant the Dilgar fleet was in full retreat and utterly broken as a fighting force, it had now suddenly rallied and was heading back into the firestorm of the well prepared defences. Cashik didn't understand the minds of such a race where they could advance past the shattered remains of their comrades without realising the exact same thing would happen to them, why didn't they understand that?

"They're coming into range again." Franir pointed out unnecessarily.

The Dilgar fleet was in a poor state with most of the leading ships already one or two hits away from exploding, but the Abbai lines weren't looking much better with no more hidden mines and heavy losses to their satellites there was nothing to keep the Dilgar ships apart from the Abbai defenders. It looked like it was going to come down to whichever side had the greatest determination to win, and despite her feelings on violence Cashik would make sure the Dilgar did not desecrate the colony below with their presence. She actually found herself getting mad.

"Power up our forward shields and begin jamming their sensors, lets not make this easy for them." She stated with cold professionalism, the sights she had seen today turning her from a police captain into a naval officer. "Fire at the earliest instant and don't stop until they run or die."

Franir obeyed, mildly pleased that his commander finally seemed to have gotten in touch with her inner fighter, maybe the Abbai weren't such easy pushovers after all.

Utriel colony

A squadron of Thoruns whirled through the wreckage of their brethren, space was choked with the dead of the previous attacks and was interfering with long range fire, which was a benefit for the Dilgar. The fighters ran into the rear portions of the mine field and lost three quarters of their number in the blink of an eye, but they did show Sha'dur where the last batch of mines began.

"Our primary target is still the station." He resolved. "But first we need to get there, preferably in one piece."

"We don't have enough fighters left to adequately screen us sir," his second officer said. "And our point defences aren't good enough to stop a full attack."

"They don't need to be, get me our bombardment ships."

For a few moments the comm. Officer tapped his board, and then a voice came on the line from somewhere behind the main fleet.

"Group Captain Evenil responding." A female voice stated.

"This is fleet Captain Sha'dur, I am in command of the fleet following the Warmasters death."

"Acknowledged." The other officer said flatly, her voice betraying no hint of her opinion on his self appointed promotion.

"Captain, by our records you have twenty five ships armed with Mass drivers and thirty Missile ships, correct?"

"Correct sir." Came the answer. "Our missile ships are armed with high explosives sir for surface attack."

"Very well, commence long range fire with your mass drivers, you probably won't hit anything but it'll force the enemy to get out of the way and disrupt their lines. Maybe try and hit the battlestation."

"I'll get on it."

"Also deploy your missile ships to the front lines."

"Sir with respect, they won't be much use, they don't have anti ship missiles just…"

I know, high explosive fragmentation warheads." Sha'dur interrupted. "I need them all the same." He looked at the ever decreasing range to the front. "As quickly as possible."

"Understood, they will fight and die with honour." Evenil stated.

"Good, but they may also be the key to our victory." The new Fleet commander answered. "Make it quick."

He nodded to the comms officer who ended the transmission.

"Now, tell all ships to hold positions and commence long range fire, we'll trade blows with the Abbai for a while and then proceed with the attack."

"Captain, our fighter scouts report the Abbai are moving defence satellites from the other side of the planet, they'll be here in a few minutes."

With extra defence satellites Sha'dur realized the Abbai could quickly repair the damage to their lines the first attack had inflicted and render the Dilgar losses worthless, he had to act quickly before they were smothered in laser fire.

"Then we better hope those missile ships show up quick."

"They've stopped." Toby frowned. "Why would they stop?"

"I don't know." Paul frowned uneasily. "I haven't heard about a battle like this, by all rights these guys should have run by now."

"They were in full retreat, broken and fleeing." Jenny commented quietly. "Now they've turned around and are attacking again, gotta respect that."

"Respect isn't the word I'd use." T'Koth stated from his station. "Fear would be better."

In the distance the lines or energy weapons and flicker of fire started again as the battered fleets started a new attack. Despite the casualties the vigour of the battle had not been lost and both sides were still fighting fiercely, in all honesty Paul had never believed the Abbai had the nerve for a real all out battle, he was glad to be proven wrong.

"So chief," Toby piped up. "Should we, y'know, run away?"

"Far side of the planet looks fairly open." Jors said. "We could exit on the other side of the defences."

"Not yet," Paul said calmly. "We've seen Dilgar fighter patrols In that area, and we can't guarantee that the Abbai mines won't hit us as we leave. We wait."

"And pray." Said T'Koth solemnly.

Paul nodded, his eyes fixed on the developing battle. It should have ended in an Abbai victory five minutes ago, they had surely earned it and were deserving, but it looked like fate was being cruel.

"Gotcha!" Franir yelled with glee, a Dilgar frigate collapsing in on itself as his laser cannons burned through it.

"Well done." Congratulated Captain Cashik, aware that she was endorsing the act of killing but finding herself not really caring. The Dilgar were not normal, they did not meet the same expectations and limits of every other race and attacked like machines, or perhaps demons. For each one who died another stood fearlessly in its place and continued to make war forcing Cashik and the other defenders to keep on killing them. For every dead Dilgar a little bit of Abbai civilization was stripped away, their pacifism was disappearing in the fires of war and necessity and their entire society was experiencing a paradigm shift towards a place they really didn't want to be. Cashik hated the Dilgar, not because of who they were or because they were bringing war to the League or even because of their ruthlessness, she hated them because win or lose Abbai society as she knew it and loved it was gone.

"Captain, fighters inbound!" Trinki called out, her nimble fingers highlighting their vector.

Cashik detached her thoughts and noted the new threat. A full squadron of Thoruns had swept around the battleline exploiting gaps in the minefield opened by their comrade's demise and now sought to hit her ship from its weaker aft quarter.

"Point defences, redirect fire aft, engage at will!"

The _Syonar_ mounted a few batteries of multi barrelled particle cannons designed specifically for such threats. The guns swivelled on their mounts and began tracking the fast moving craft as they sped towards the unshielded back of the cruiser. The instant the Thoruns entered range two batteries opened fire, a rain of orange pulses raking space in the fighter's path. Immediately two of the fighters were swatted out of the sky, the others beginning evasive action but staying on course.

"Forward fire intensifying." Franir stated simply, up ahead the Dilgar line had been reinforced by fresh reserves and were delivering a heavy barrage to the defenders, the burning wrecks of two cruisers similar to the _Syonar_ spun passed and burned out in the harsh vacuum. Cashik noticed a number of ships were in her position, with fighters striking their rear and flanks and drawing fire away from the warships ahead. These Dilgar were cunning warriors, but far too wasteful with their lives.

"Stay on the fighters, but make sure our shields are still concentrated forwards." She ordered. "Hold our position and don't give way, and Franir, take out the damaged and weakened ships first." Deliberately targeting weakened ships was unsavoury, but necessary to quickly cull the Dilgar numbers. She hated herself for it, but did not hesitate. They had to win here.

Two more destroyers went up in a brief flash showering the _Dominator_ with shrapnel, the debris ringing and echoing on the outer hull. Sha'dur did not blink of flinch at the sudden losses even though they were on both sides of his own command, it was a small miracle that they too had not been suddenly hit and destroyed, their battered hull certainly couldn't take more than token punishment.

A constant row of pulses were floating serenely across space, bright balls of light from the Dilgar lines which looked strangely beautiful if observed with detachment. Thousands of the energy balls floated across space for miles in every direction like a horizontal rain storm, and from the other side thin red strings of laser beams stabbed rapidly from the Abbai lines, and the flash and flame in which they ended served to further illuminate the battle zone. It was abstract, surreal even, and totally captivating.

An increase in radio chatter centred his attention once more, a series of status reports coming in from the missile ships of the bombardment force.

"This is fleet command," Sha'dur announced grandly putting as much confidence and assurance in his voice as possible. He knew the fleet was balanced on a knife edge and could break at any second, his people had great courage but without direction they could not win. "All ships be ready to advance, keep up your fire."

"Bombardment unit to command," Captain Evenils high voice reported in. "Missile ships ready, mass drivers loaded and will fire on your orders."

Sha'dur felt a brief moment of relief and elation. Everything was falling into place, now he just had to set the plan in motion.

"Captain, I want you to set up a rolling barrage here," he sent coordinates electronically. "Set your missiles for timed detonation based on these figures."

"Yes sir." Evenil replied, though deeply confused. She had originally been worried that her weapons were going to be too weak, despite massing nearly ten tons of explosives each they were designed to airburst above planetary targets and rain down shrapnel and a napalm like substance on towns and cities in order to sow panic and terror. Anti ship missiles were generally nuclear in class and far more powerful than her own devices, and now it seemed the Fleet commander didn't even want to hit the Abbai, her target area was empty space closer to her own lines than the enemy and then gradually walking the barrage forward. It made no sense and probably wouldn't scratch a single Abbai ship. Still, orders were orders so she gave the word.

The missiles raced from their carriers in a steady stream one after another, the massive tubes ambling past the fleet and into no mans land. The Abbai defences didn't even try to target them, confident that such slow moving weapons would be easy prey for the fleets point defences, and as it happened they never even got that far, exploding at the designated location within the thick debris field made up of wrecked Dilgar vessels and satellite platforms. The weapons didn't cause damage, that was not Sha'durs plan, but they did create a large blast wave amongst the wrecks, a force which nudged the broken hulls out of the way. The second wave of missiles exploded, then a third and each successive strike pushed a collection of hulks further away from the Dilgar battleline and towards the Abbai with gradually increasing speed.

It was exactly what Sha'dur had hoped for, the weak missiles were not blasting the wrecks apart but keeping them together and simply pushing them on. As the missiles detonated further forward it kept adding more force to the hulks accelerating them towards the Abbai defences like a metal tide, or perhaps a ghost fleet.

The sight of destroyed ships being carried along by forward momentum in the early part of the battle had inspired this idea in Sha'dur, he would use the wrecks as shields for undamaged ships to advance behind and absorb the Abbai fire and batter through mines. Even in death they would be valued parts of the fleet and ultimate victory.

"Fleet command to all ships, advance and destroy."

"We should hold on to something." Franir said with remarkable calm, the area immediately in front of the _Syonar_ filling with plasma.

"Brace for impact." Cashik called, the sudden wave of Dilgar fire closing rapidly on them. They were on the move again and seemed to be concentrating their fire on the sector near the battlestation where Cashik was holding, the sudden concentration of fire heralded the start of the attack itself, she guessed it would be the last attempt, it had to be because the Dilgar were fast running out of operational ships.

The bolt fire hit the ship head on, slamming into the shields and pushing the cruiser hard back. The engines went to full burn trying to compensate but for a few seconds the _Syonar _was completely out of control. A second volley hit, once again crashing into the vessel, but this time the shields were too weak to hold back the full assault and began to shrink, two plasma bolts nudged through and splashed on the cruisers forward hull spreading the insanely hot material over the ships armour and port side weapons.

"Get us back in formation!" Cashik shouted, enraged by the Dilgar attack on her ship and taking it very personally. "Keep firing!"

The ship was suddenly jerked again, but this time not by the advancing battleline.

"Fighters dead astern, they're going for our engines!"

Cashik could feel herself getting even angrier, but stifled it, it would not do to lose her temper before the crew. "Point defences?"

"Still engaging, but they are proving hard to hit."

Three Thoruns dove for the _Syonar_ firing as the closed on its stern. The particle batteries fired on them, the fast and regular discharge sending traces in a tight pattern across their likely path and striking the central fighter, detonating it in a small fireball. The remaining fighters accelerated and held their course, Cashik watched helplessly as they got ever closer, she guessed they were moving too fast to turn away now and a collision was inevitable. Sure enough the two fighters ploughed nose first into the starboard engine assemble, tearing through power feeds and magnetic flow directors. The whole assembly spluttered and died as emergency procedures closed down the damaged system.

Her crew was frantically reading off a damage report but she didn't hear, she was captivated by a sudden massive movement ahead of the Dilgar lines.

"What's that, what's happening?" she demanded

Trinki quickly honed the sensors in on the disturbance, a wall of fire generated by a missile barrage.

"The Dilgar are blasting the wrecks, they're coming this way!"

"But a lot of those ships had crew on, trapped in damaged sectors!"

"Yes Captain, I guess the Dilgar don't care."

Of course they didn't, it was the one constant in this battle, the Dilgar just didn't care for their own lives. How could fanaticism such as that be reasoned with or halted without completely exterminating it? Cashik couldn't answer herself, with a sudden wave of depression she realised the Dilgar wouldn't stop until every single one of them was dead.

"Those wrecks are clearing the minefield." Franir said. "Look, their detonating mines and taking hits for the other vessels following behind, very clever."

"How is using your helpless comrades as shields clever?" Cashik snapped, then immediately regretted it. The whole crew was stressed, it was their first battle and it seemed they were being thrown in at the deep end, it was amazing the fleet hadn't broken from the sheer horror of it all, she knew that it was only the colony behind her that had kept her here fighting, if it had been open battle they would probably have retreated long ago. They were going above and beyond their duties, and Cashik was simply in awe of them. "It is a ruthless tactic," she said more calmly. "Not one we should admire them for."

"Yes Ma'am."

"We've still got a job to do, try and et the engines back online so we can resume our position, if anything happens to blunder into our firing arcs, Mr Franir will take care of it."

The Brakiri mercenary nodded, checking his weapons status. Until the engines were fixed and they could return to the line they were merely spectators, as helpless as the colony below.

"Hold your position Captain Maldor," Sha'dur said calmly into the comms system. "Stay with me."

"We're losing engines and fire is getting through!" a panicked voice replied. "We need to…" the message ended in static, simultaneously the ship immediately to their right exploded in a single bright flash.

"So much for Captain Maldor." Sha'dur said flatly with neither grief nor joy. "Make sure his escorts stay with us."

The tactic of driving debris before them was working, it was bludgeoning through the minefield and significantly reducing hits to the still active fleet, they were almost past the static defences, just a few hundred miles remained.

A strike cruiser fell behind, its hull peeling away as internal explosions shredded its insides. Moor fighters raced forward, some exploding spectacularly while the survivors didn't even flinch, slicing past the wreckage of their comrades and on into the teeth of the battle line. The fleet losses grew but if they got past the minefield it would be worth it.

"Just a little more!" Sha'dur announced fleet wide. "Just stay with me, we're almost upon them!"

Two more destroyers were silenced, one by the looming _Pirocia_ battlestation now almost close enough to touch.

"Stay with me!"

The remnants of their broken comrades past through the minefield, the gap was wide open and Abbai ships rushed to block it. In an example of exquisite timing Captain Evenil's mass driver force loosed their captured asteroids to coincide with the breakthrough, the rocks hurling through the gap just as the defenders moved into firing position, smashing one unlucky cruiser and causing the rest to break off.

In that instant Sha'dur knew he had won. His ship was the first through the gap and there before him was the colony itself, wide open and his for the taking. More ships followed through and began expertly reforming their battlelines, there was still work to do.

"Form on me!" he shouted triumphantly, the sensation of surviving the race to the planet giving him extra energy. "Roll up the enemy forces from behind, second division take that battlestation! Onward, on now, we've got them beaten!"

The Dilgar cruisers passed through the gap and now turned sideways and engaged the Abbai warships openly at close range. Without the interlocking defences and after such a brutal fight the Abbai were giving way, unused to war fatigue and fear were mastering them and their responses were too slow to the threat. The Dilgar began to dominate the battle and Abbai ships began to rapidly fall apart.

"We've got some power to the engines, but not much." Trinki said glumly. "We can move into the firing arcs but we're too far away to do much."

"Bring us about." Cashik said regardless. "Fire at any targets."

Her voice was hollow and her eyes empty, the effects of battle were hitting her with a vengeance and the depression of defeat grinding down. As far as she was concerned the battle was already over, with the defences breached they had to take on the Dilgar head to head, and in a battle like that the Abbai were finished.

"With respect Captain, it isn't over yet." Franir said as if reading her mind. "If you accept defeat in your mind the Dilgar have already won. Your people are still fighting and dying for this world and so long as they do it is not over."

She smiled thinly. "Thank you Mister Franir, I assure you that we will do our duty." She began to feel more confident, an emotion which lasted about five seconds.

Her heart sank as she saw the battlestation which anchored their defences surrounded by Dilgar warships, its few available guns striking hard but with little real effect. A pair of tumbling asteroids launched from the Dilgar lines crashed into the great base, overloading shields and crumpling armour. Atmosphere leaked form a dozen rents in the hull but still it fought on, the wreckage of enemy ships and fighters surrounding it like a halo while yet more vessels pounded it in the hopes of subduing the last bastion.

Four _Lakara_ cruisers of the defence fleet swept forward, destroying two Dilgar vessels and trying to relieve the pressure on the station. More long range fire hit the massive target and squadrons of fighters blazed at the relief force, distracting it and causing it to move away into the guns of yet more Dilgar vessels. The station still resisted, plasma bolts and Pulsars peppered its hull, laser fire raked it and missiles drove through its armour, battered but not beaten the great facility remained unbowed and struck back, carving up a Dilgar cruiser that strayed before its guns.

A lone _Tratharti_ class warship fired at the station, its weapons scarring the hull but with little more effect than the other ships. The ship accelerated on, heading straight for the base and continuing to fire as it rushed on, the base recognized it as a threat and engaged, every heavy weapon it could muster focused on the _Tratharti_ turning its bow into a shattered and molten mess. But the ship sped on, heedless of its wounds and disdainful of the enemy fire, it was struck again and again, its armour giving way and emptying the contents of its hull into space with a shower of debris and brief flames. Like a long flaming sword the ship sliced headlong into the base, crashing deep into its hull before exploding and ripping away the entire front of the rounded battlestation.

Amazingly it still held on, the few remaining defences kept engaging and central command issued its final orders from the mortally wounded _Pirocia_. Inspired by the sacrifice of their comrade the fire intensified, fighters made suicide runs on the last guns and even flew inside the massive hole left by the _Tratharti_ in an attempt to crash onto the internal shield generators or power systems. Finally two heavily damaged destroyers resolved to finish the base and earn themselves undying glory, following in the footsteps of the earlier ship they drove themselves into the open side of the base and exploded, blasting all the way through and finally ending its valiant if short existence.

Captain Cashik realised at that point there was nothing they could do, with the battlestation gone there was nothing which could realistically stop the invasion, the defence fleet was outnumbered and woefully outgunned, but more than that the had lost hope and the will to win, whatever happened now the Dilgar would win.

"We had a final message from sector command." Trinki said sombrely, the Admirals and Generals now dead or trapped on the destroyed base slowly falling into Utriel's atmosphere. "It tells us to retreat to Ssumssha and strengthen the garrison there, and to save as many as we can."

Cashik watched the station fall and the approaching battle, the Dilgar ships now easily pushing aside resistance. It had seemed that victory was assured, that the defences were impenetrable and that faced with such massive losses the Dilgar would break and the war would end at the peace table. But it hadn't, the enemy had rallied and hit back with even greater determination and ruthlessness, and now Utriel was wide open.

"Engines?"

"About sixty percent capacity." Her deck officer responded.

"Then come about, tell the civilian ships in orbit to escape while they can. We'll try and escort them to the jump gate."

"Yes Ma'am."

She took one last look at the battlestation falling away, the symbol of the Abbai's mastery of defensive systems now nothing but scrap metal about to fall on the very site it was defending. They had failed. Now they must redeem themselves.

"Oh, that isn't good."

Nobody on the flight deck even muttered in agreement, they all looked at what Jors was referring to. The Abbai defences were crumbling and the great space station the battle was being held around was wrecked. Now Dilgar ships were spreading out to finish off anything that moved.

"I think this is our cue to leave." Paul said. "Jors, get us out of here."

"Wait, what about the minefield, what about fighters, what about the ships at the Jump gate!" Toby rattled off quickly.

"We'll take our chances." He answered as the bow turned to face out into space.

"Message Captain, the Abbai fleet is setting up a mobile defence." T'Koth relayed. "They'll provide cover for any freighters in the area."

"There, see?" Paul smiled despite being utterly terrified. "Who said our luck was all out? Set course, we'll follow the warships and let them keep us safe."

"Like they kept the planet safe?" Toby grunted.

"Quit being so negative." Paul frowned. "Its better than running through all that alone." He pointed to the frontline which seemed to be getting rapidly closer. "Now, get strapped in and make sure baggage is safely stowed in the overhead lockers, I've got a feeling this is going to be a close run thing."

Dreadnought _Conqueror_, Hyperspace.

For the eighth time she straightened her tunic, the dark blue contrasting nicely with the gold trim signifying her rank. She resumed her pacing, back and forth seemingly endlessly in the confines of her quarters, wearing into the luxurious carpet which was a privilege of her rank and station. She glanced at the clock, the battle would have been going on for two hours by now, their should have been some word by now.

She stopped and took a few deep breaths forcing her heart rate down, she of all people should realise the realities of battle meant that communications would be difficult while the fighting raged on, and it was unlikely a ship would leave battle just to get a signal to command and report on how things were going.

But she still couldn't silence her doubts, the part of her that looked for the worst and believed it. It said the attack had failed and none had survived, that the entire force had been ambushed or had been decoyed by false hyperspace beacons and lost forever in the maelstrom. She simply couldn't balance the two, so took her mind of it by once again pacing.

Her comms panel beeped, and within literally one second she had it activated. "Speak."

"Warmaster Jha'dur." She recognized the person on the line as one of her bridge officers. "You wanted to know the instant we received information from the attack on Utriel."

"What do you have?"

"Warmaster Reh'mas is dead, his vessel and its escort wing were totally destroyed in a surprise ambush."

Jah'dur felt her heart fall through the floor like nothing supported it, a great cold chasm opening swiftly in her soul.

"The first waves were almost completely destroyed, but our forces recovered and the battle goes on, that's all we know."

"Casualties?"

"Higher than anticipated, much higher."

Her mouth was drying up and she knew if she spoke more than one word the waver in her tone would be detected. "Specifics?"

"No Ma'am. Full casualty lists are not available. Also Warmaster Len'char is about to lead his ships into Drazi space, shall I alert your forces?"

She nodded. "Keep my informed of any developments." With a tap she shut down the connection and exhaled, closing her eyes tightly shut. Her family were survivors, and both her brother and herself had overcome many obstacles as they grew up and entered adulthood, but it didn't change the fact that one by one everyone she knew had died and their passing had ripped a piece of her away, if Sha'dur also died she was not convinced that there would be anything left of her anymore. It scared her more than death.

She straightened her uniform for a ninth time and began pacing.

Utriel.

The sky was still filled with tracer fire and wheeling fighters, the Abbai fought well but were getting cut down in droves by the Dilgar and barely making a difference. The Abbai warships were falling back, using their shields to stay in battle ald forming a physical barrier between the main Dilgar fleet and the rapidly forming civilian ships. A few panicked freighters had tried to run early and had provided some sport for marauding Thorun squadrons, the rest were making their move in unison hoping numbers would buy them safety.

"Jors." Paul said in a matter of fact tone. "They're going to leave without us."

The _Space Race_ was still suffering from its earlier efforts and the ships engines were labouring at barely half power. Jors was gradually feeding more energy into them but too much too soon could result in a serious overload and that would leave them powerless and at the mercy of the Dilgar, not a trait they were known for. The orbital satellites were by now useless, swift moving fighters having picked off their main weapons and left them hanging in space as little more than expensive debris. Warships now engaged each other as the battle reached its final stage, something the _Space Race_ crew didn't really need to stick around for.

"uh-oh." Toby said ominously. "We got movement over the poles."

"What sort of Movement?" Paul asked, craning his neck to look through the flight deck window.

"Sensors show a Dilgar squadron, heavy warships, they're sneaking around behind the Abbai fleet."

"Have the Abbai seen them?" Paul wondered, the sudden appearance of warships behind the Abbai lines would end their resistance instantly.

"Yeah, they've sent ships to engage but too few, they won't hold 'em long."

"We've got a few minutes before this battle turns into a rout." T'Koth advised. "We need to push the engines."

"I don't think they can take it." Jors cautioned. "We don't want a burn out."

"Do it anyway." Paul said. "Just keep an eye on them."

Without further discussion the pilot opened the throttles, instantly sending every gauge into the red. He adjusted the flow a little and managed to bring the readings down a little, but growing vibrations shuddered the vessel as it accelerated clattering items in the lockers and unnerving the two thousand refugees in the cargo bay.

"Convoy is on the move." Jenny reported. "And we're still a few minutes out."

There were still dozens of ships in orbit, obviously the warships directing the convoy decided they couldn't hold on any longer and had started their engines, passing through a path in the minefield and into open space. As they began to move the Abbai fleet began to fall back, a steady reverse which seemed to encourage the Dilgar to fight with even greater vigour, sensing victory they flung themselves into battle once more, the battered ships of both sides struggling together to the death.

The Dilgar flanking force burned through their opponents with ease, even faster tha predicted, and began deploying into a wall behind the Abbai cruisers, but surprisingly did not engage. Instead they began to spread out seemed to virtual ignore the battle going on around them.

"Those ships," Toby noted. "If they keep spreading out they're going to cut us off."

He was right, as the second Dilgar unit spread out it was beginning to fill the area in front of the _Space Race_ and block the only path they knew of through the mine field.

"Jors?" Paul raised an eyebrow and nodded at the throttle.

"They're already redlined Captain, I can't get anything more from them without us exploding. Which would be bad."

Waves of Abbai fighters suddenly streaked past the freighter, almost close enough to reach out and touch. The backwash from their drives beffeted the already shaking ship as they roared past like blue dragonflies toward the enemy.

"Lets hope they can keep them busy." Paul sighed, not convinced the fighters would succeed. They were brave, but ultimately unskilled and the Dilgar were teaching them a very harsh lesson in warfare.

"Captain Evenil has deployed her ships sir."

Sha'dur acknowledged the report, amongst the long list of destroyed ship names and the combat status of his fleet Evenils report was the one he had most anticipated, it was they who would deliver the final victory.

"Where are the Abbai?"

"Still focusing on our attack Captain," his officer stated. "they are deployed in our path, only token forces are engaging Captain Evenil."

"That'll change when she opens fire, they may direct ships from their lines to engage her. If that happens we will hit whichever location they weaken."

"Yes Captain."

"Give Evenil the word, commence attack."

The second force of Dilgar ships which had outflanked the Abbai came about, pointing their noses to the planet. With deliberate actions Captain Evenil sent targeting data to her remaining missile ships and ordered a planetary saturation strike. Missiles began to launch from the _Athraskala_ class vessels, a steady pouring of slow moving warheads that entered the atmosphere and arced downwards at ballistic speeds.

The Abbai ignored the weapons, detecting no fusion warheads amongst the volley and reasoning they were of the same type used earlier in the battle, fragmentation and incendiary weapons designed to terrorize the populations below. It was a hard choice to ignore the attack fully knowing thousands would likely die, but many more would perish if the main enemy fleet broke through, and there was still a sense within the defenders that they might just grab victory from the jaws of defeat. The missiles went unchallenged save by a few surface based batteries, and they detonated at their pre determined release points.

The missiles were not armed with explosives, instead their payload was an innocuous liquid rendered aerosol by the weapons, scattering through clods and hanging like mist in the bright blue sky before slowly descending. It took a few minutes to register and understand what was happening, and by then it was far too late to do anything. A second volley of missiles were fired, carrying their biological warheads to another location in the planets atmosphere, a carefully calculated pattern to cover the whole globe with maximum efficiency, the science of planetary genocide.

The Abbai immediately sent ships to engage the relatively weakly armed missile ships, but in the instant those Abbai cruisers retreated the Dilgar main force hit the lines even harder, throwing in everything they had right down to ramming Abbai ships to create holes in the defensive line. They were caught between two impossible choices, to abandon their defence or abandon their people to bombardment, and like a house of cards discipline fell apart. Some Captains held position and fired on Sha'durs forces, others turned to engage the missile ships. There was no centralised command to direct the battle and none of the surviving officers had the force of will or knowledge to rescue the situation. Confusion swept across the defenders, and the weapons of the Dilgar were close behind.

The clouds of white mist were visible from orbit, and every member of the _Space Race_ crew was watching silently as more and more puffs appeared. Neither Jenny nor Toby had read out the sensor reports, they didn't have to. Nobody in the crew had ever seen a planet wide use of biological weapons, none of them had ever considered what it would look like or how it would be carried out, yet instinctively they knew that was what they were witnessing. An entire world was being poisoned before their eyes, twenty million sentients trapped on the surface were being systematically and efficiently killed by the ships in orbit without even an attempt to land troops and take the world by conventional means. It made no sense, why fight so hard for something and then just destroy it? It was purely terrifying.

Jors broke the silence. "We have an issue developing."

The Dilgar line had continued to expand, and the arrival of Abbai warships had brought the battle to bombardment group. Right now the _Space Race_ was almost nose to nose with a Dilgar warship, thankfully it was too busy with the attack on the planet to notice them, or care about destroying the small freighter.

"Can we go around?" Paul questioned quickly, eyes darting from ship to ship and trying to work out odds, they weren't good.

"We need to exit the minefield at a very specific point, and the only way to reach it is through them." Jors pointed at the edge of the green hued fleet.

"This is crazy, we're a freighter not a Dreadnought! We can't fly through that!" Toby exclaimed hitting the console.

"We have two choices." Jors said slowly. "Either we try and fly past them and get killed, or we stay here and get killed."

"We need another option!" demanded Toby.

"In an effort to get us out I over push the engines and they explode, and we get killed." Jors added with a grin. "Either way we're screwed."

"Jors, all ahead full." Paul announced. "There will be no more discussion, this is my ship and I say we run the blockade. Look at those Abbai ships, they'll keep the Dilgar busy long enough for us to run past."

"This is a monumentally bad idea, I just want you all to know that." Toby said with obvious terror despite trying to calm his voice. "So when we all get blasted your last thought can be 'oh, Toby was right' okay?"

"Well I always said if you were right about anything it'd be over my dead body." Paul shrugged. "Lets see what happens."

The small freighter powered forwards as the Abbai ships engaged, a dazzling laser beam slicing into the missile ship immediately in front of them. The strike must have hit something important within the ungainly looking vessel and it exploded with massive force, the stacks of missiles inside lending their explosive force to the ships final moment of existence. Jors dropped the nose of his ship down, the blast wave jolting them badly and pushing them further down as white hot drops of molten metal rushed past the _Space Race_ like illuminated snow flakes. The view ahead was dominated by warships moving forward to battle, bright bolts of energy dashing between the vessels and ending in fire whenever they contacted on object.

"Keep to the left," Paul pointed. "There aren't so many of them over there."

They skirted the battlefield, weaving past the blackened detritus of the destruction and trying to keep a low profile. While Jors concentrated on not hitting anything and Paul kept an eye on sensors the rest of the crew were transfixed by the battle unfolding right beside them, the entire flight deck was illuminated in the orange light of fire coming from the incessant explosions. A spinning Abbai cruiser with half its hull missing collided with one of the missile ships, tearing both vessels apart in a fury of destruction. Dilgar fighters and attack Frigates danced through the battle striking here and there to weaken enemy ships and provide opportunities for the larger war cruisers to exploit. It had turned into a cauldron with Abbai ships surrounded and fighting frantically for every extra second of survival, time they used to try and destroy more of the missile carriers dropping plagues on the world below. It was too late of course, the populations fate was by now sealed, but it did not stop them trying.

"Incoming, hard to starboard!" Paul yelled. "Quick!"

The Freighter burned its bow thrusters and Jors slackened the output from the left hand engine causing the ship to swing rapidly around. As it did so a cluster of asteroids hurtled past, spinning through the mess of the battle to impact on the surface or Utriel sending massive plumes of dirt and dust up into the high atmosphere. More rocks flew past, aimed at the planets cities and and military facilities that could conceivably have underground bunkers sealed off from the airborne virus. The Dilgar were determined to leave absolutely nothing alive when they departed.

Paul was pulled back in his seat as Jors slewed the ship around again and put them back on course for the escape path, using the reload time of the mass drivers he rapidly ducked through their firing path and to the edge of the minefield.

"We're here." He commented plainly as if he were on a simple supply run.

"Follow the course of the convoy exactly, we don't want to run into a surprise." Paul ordered.

The _Space Race_ had covered about half the distance with the battle still raging behind them when sensors warned of a ship closing.

"_Jashakar_ class Frigate." Paul said through gritted teeth. "Its on an intercept course, damn thing could burn us from stem to stern."

From just off the port side the Frigate closed, arming its weapons and locking on to the struggling freighter. A flight of Abbai fighters tried to stop it but the warship simply ignored them, their ultra light particle cannons posing no real threat to it.

"Can we evade?" Toby suggested frantically.

"Not in this old tub." Jors said calmly. "Never mind."

There was a sudden flash, Paul expected it to be weapons fire but when nothing further happened he had to look at his sensor station. It showed the Frigate spinning ot of control with heavy damage to its bow.

"The minefield!" he yelled joyously. "It hit a mine!"

As he spoke the Frigate blundered into two more devices, essentially ending its contribution to the battle. It fell out of control no longer a significant threat to anyone.

"Glad we stuck to the path." Jenny observed. "And we should be clear."

"Take us to the gate, no messing around, just go for it." Paul emphasized. "Get us outta here before the Dilgar finish off the planet and start looking for more sport."

Captain Cashik wiped away a bead of sweat from her head, reacting with surprise when she saw the trickle down her face had in fact been blood. Her ship had taken a beating and wouldn't have lasted long on the frontline, so instead was sent to protect the convoy of civilian ships trying to make the Jumpgate. Part of her had felt like staying behind even accepting the likely outcome, accepting death as long as it meant doing her duty. But rationally she understood she could do more with the convoy group than she could defending the colony, a world which was now lost and condemned. They monitored the attack, watching the plague deliberately introduced to the verdant world and observed from a distance the final destruction of the fleet they had served.

"The leader of eighth squadron reports she's down to two fighters, the twenty second is down to three." Officer Trinki relayed in her shrill tone, the bridge was damaged and the _Syonar_ punched full of holes but at least her crew was holding together. Over the radio they'd heard cries of panic from other vessels less ready for war whom's crews had just fallen apart when the Dilgar broke through. Those ships hadn't lasted long.

"Tell them to stay close, we can support each other." Cashik ordered. The convoy had been struck by repeated fighter attacks but mercifully few warships were around, most were too busy hitting the last defenders over Utriel itself, the battle now a distant blaze of light and radiation.

"Captain, those Dilgar fighters that were shadowing us," Weapons officer Franir pointed to a display. "They ain't shadowing anymore."

"Power up the weapons batteries again, fire at will." Cashik said wearily. "Let them come."

"Jenny, get the particle guns spun up, we're going to have company."

Paul had hoped that escaping the planet was the end of their problems, but it seemed the Dilgar were quite determined to kill everything in the system and roving fighter patrols were stationed at intervals between the colony and the jump gate, along with one or two light warships. They had almost caught up with the convoy when a number of these fighters moved to strike, going for the weaker commercial ships rather than the few escorting cruisers.

"Friendlies coming in from twelve o'clock." Toby stated, his demeanor a little more relaxed now they were in open space and he had something to do. "The enemies are at nine through eleven."

"Particle cannons spun up and ready to fire."

"Time to get even." Paul resolved. "Open fire."

The four turrets on the _Space Race_ engaged, firing on the Dilgar fighters as they crossed their path. Abbai Kotha interceptors joined the fray while the other freighters and their escorts tried to bring down the attack with their own fire. Thorun fighters were hit and destroyed but not before their squad mates had brought down two freighters, tearing apart their engines and leaving them drifting, slowly falling behind the convoy. The surviving fighters moved out of range and regrouped, eyeing the wounded ships like a shark smelling blood.

"They gonna be taken under tow?" Toby asked as the _Space Race_ passed the damaged ships.

"By who?" Jors asked. "None of these ships will stop long enough to help, it'd be suicide."

"They can't just leave them! Why don't the warships do something?"

"They are, they're protecting the convoy. Forty ships here or two ships back there." Jenny pointed out from the weapons station. "Cold hard numbers."

The Dilgar fighters lurking behind began to close, moving in on the damaged ships.

"Why don't we help, try something?" Toby persisted. "We shouldn't just leave them to die!"

Nobody answered. None of them wanted to just leave, but to go back would leave them prey for the Fighter units, and in the end would leave three wrecks for the Dilgar to salvage instead of two.

T'Koth took off his headphones, for an instant tiny voices shouting for help were heard before he turned the channels over. They didn't need reminding what would happen.

"The gate's ahead." Paul pointed, "Nearly there."

"Six Destroyers," Franir read the display. "Plus a hefty fighter escort."

"We have to clear them away." Cashik replied. "Form up with the other ships, we don't need to destroy them just push them past the gate so our convoy can escape."

The small group of Abbai escorts detached and accelerated forward to engage the Dilgar piquet ships before the freighters entered their firing range. Fighters from both sides broke off in a swarm and charged headlong into battle with raw nerve and little finesse. Once again the Abbai pilots threw everything they had into the fight, but they couldn't stand against the well trained and aggressive Dilgar fighters and were shot down at an alarming rate. However they were achieving their main goal of keeping the enemy away from the convoy.

The _Syonar_ lumbered into range, its engines still not fully repaired, and fired its twin lasers at the ship closest to the gate, striking it squarely and tearing into its hull. In response the Dilgar unleashed a constant barrage of bolter fire and lasers, but instead of firing across the line they picked one ship at a time and systematically overloaded its shields and defences. The most intact cruiser in the fleet was the first to go, exploding in less than a minute, followed by the second most capable vessel.

"They're taking out our best ships first." Cashik noted, once again cursing the Dilgar way of war. "Where's the convoy."

"Almost to the gate, the first ships are preparing to jump."

Paul Calendar almost cheered when one of the Dilgar warships near the gate exploded, the Abbai were doing a good job at clearing the way though it was costing them greatly. The sequential flashing of the struts announced the opening of the jump point, and the way to salvation appeared before them.

"Here we go, home straight people." He assured.

The first ships passed through while the Abbai cruisers kept fighting, each freighter that escaped took thousands of survivors with it, they were a tiny fraction of the population of Utriel but every refugee that escaped was a victory rescued from this tragic disaster. The jump gate continued to swirl, its generators keeping the vortex open much longer than a starship could handle and so allowing the long line of civilian ships to exit, a line the _Space Race _was at the back of

"Fighters moving in." Jenny warned.

"You know what to do, lets not blow it at this stage."

The particle cannons chugged, throwing out their charges at a group of Thoruns, the neighbouring ships followed suit. With the warship escorts hitting the Dilgar capital ships and the Abbai fighters virtually annihilated the surviving Thoruns had free range over the convoy as it dashed for safety, their only hope that they could soak up the damage and still make it.

Paul involuntarily ducked as a Dilgar fighter passed yards from his window, its grey fuselage a long blur as it raced past with an Abbai fighter chasing it. The ship ahead was struck by a squadron of Thoruns, bright plumes of fire erupting from its hull as the weapons fire tore through it and caused it to list and tumble. Another ship was hit, and another. The first barely managed to keep going, long streams of atmosphere gushing out of its broken form while the second lost its engine feed and disappeared in a fireball.

"Watch the debris!" Paul warned, and Jors altered the _Space Races_ heading so the tumbling wreckage fell past them, the disturbing scene plainly visible up close from the large window. Another Abbai cruiser fell apart under Dilgar heavy fire, but by now most of the convoy was out of the gate and on its way to Ssumssha.

"Watch our six." Toby stated while Jenny quickly tracked the guns.

The cannons fired again, one of the pulses passing straight through a Thoruns cockpit much to the crews satisfaction, none of them held any love for the Dilgar after today. The other fighters kept coming, and as one fired on the ship. The weapons fire tore into the rear of the _Space Race_ eating into the engineering bay and crucially the engine feeds, blowing out the power relays and shutting down two of the four engines. The ship veered suddenly as the thrust changed, sending it spinning off course.

"No! No! No!" Paul yelled. "Get us back to the gate!"

"On my 'to do' list." Jors said implacably as he wrestled with the controls, shunting power and trying an emergency restart of the damaged engines. Their new course sent them to the left of the gate, right where the battle was going on.

"Err, Jors." Toby pointed out of the window at the approaching firefight.

"I can see it." He grimaced, flicking switches on and off seemingly at random and sending vibrations through the ship as the engines tried to re-engage. The Dilgar fighters ignored them, prepared to finish them later and instead engaged the last few ships trying to make the gate, destroying two more before they finally made it out, the gate closing behind them.

"Gates closed." Toby said with some agitation.

"Well spotted." Paul gritted his teeth again, it was going to take a few minutes for the pylons to recharge after holding the vortex open so long.

"So how do we escape? We won't last until it recharges, we're history!" Toby wailed. "After all that to buy it now!"

"Toby, shut up." Paul said methodically. "Jenny, watch our back. Jors, go for those ships."

"The warships firing nuclear yield weapons around." He queried.

"Yes. Fly for them."

"Okay, hang on." He dropped a few more switches, and with a shake the damaged engines came online driving the ship forward again right towards the battling vessels.

Cashik sprayed the fire extinguisher a few more times just to make sure the fire was out, then dropped the canister and knealt beside Trinki.

"Doesn't look too bad," she reassured her deck officer whose console had exploded after the latest hit. "Medics are on the way, just lie still."

Of course they might take another direct hit before they arrived which would probably finish them, but there was no need to share that thought. Going against her instinct she stood and left Trinki for the medics and devoted her attention to the battle.

"The convoy made it." Franir said. "Now what?"

"Now we try and escape, activate jump engines."

"They've taken damage ma'am." He warned. "Theres a good chance they'll blow."

"Well at least the Dilgar won't kill us then. Do it."

The _Syonar_ shunted power and began to rip apart space to create its own vortex, beside them a heavily damaged carrier finally succumbed to enemy fire, its hull rippled with internal explosions as the Dilgar finished it off.

"Captain, one of the freighters is heading this way!"

Cashik checked the sensor reports, one of the ships she'd assumed was destroyed was heading their way at high speed, a whole wing of fighters behind it.

"They're heading right for us?"

"Yes ma'am."

"They know we're opening a jump point, they want to use it too." She nodded, coming to a decision in her mind. "Hold position, keep the vortex open."

"Captain please, we can only hold it for a minute before the engines bleed dry." Franir called, survival was so tantalisingly close for them, they just had to leave through the vortex.

"I gave an order." She said firmly. "Hold here."

"Oh thank God." Paul exhaled. "Look, that cruisers seen us. Get us through that vortex now, give it all she's got."

"Believe me, I ain't holding back." Jors stated.

Dilgar fighters were still shooting, the bright energy bolts flaming past the ship and occasionally hitting, Paul prayed they weren't doing heavy damage. A Thorun blazed past, doing a back flip directly ahead of them and then firing at the flight deck itself, the plasma bolts slamming into the forward hull dangerously close to the window. One of the overhead lockers broke free, dropping down above Paul before being arrested by cables, the five hundred pound locker would have crushed him flat if it wasn't for the ships lack of gravity to pull it down.

He was temporarily blinded as Jenny put a particle bolt through the fighters fuel cells reducing it to glowing scrap the size of coins, and when his vision returned the window was filled with the Vortex.

Finally the _Space Race_ managed to leave the Utriel system, followed by the last Abbai defenders on board the _Syonar_. Behind them was a wasteland, a cluttered field of wrecked ships destroyed fighters and dead bodies. The colony was gone, slowly being murdered by a genetically manipulated plague and bombed into ruin from orbit. The Dilgar didn't want this world, it had nothing of value to them, all it gave them was an opportunity to show the League and the rest of the galaxy what they could expect.

There was no quarter, no surrender, no hope of survival. For the Dilgar this was about the life and death of their species, and by their actions they had shown that the League were in the same position. To lose was to be exterminated, and the slaughter at Utriel was just a small glimpse of the terror to come.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 8

Dreadnought _Conqueror_, Dilgar 1st Strike fleet.

"We have a minor problem." Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan addressed Jha'dur on the communication net. She had been waiting anxiously for news from the Abbai front where her brother was engaged in the frontline of combat, when the system had shown an incoming message she opened it with great expectation, only to be disappointed by the image of her commander and mentor. Immediately she felt ashamed, she had great respect, even affection, for the old leader and should be glad to hear from him. She had raised her chin and offered a formal salute.

"And this problem is?"

"Our attack on the Drazi is stalling, the Titholis star system was chosen for our first foray into their space, as you know Warmaster Len'char is leading the battle." She nodded. "It seems resistance is stronger than expected and his ships have been unable to break the Drazi resistance, as we speak his units are barely holding their ground against a heavy counter attack."

Jha'dur bowed her head to hide a grin. She had predicted that Len'char would make a fool of himself if he ever tried to lead a real battle against a serious fleet. Attacking the Balosians was one thing, the Drazi were very different.

"I do not see it as cause for amusement." Gar'shan said sternly.

"No sir, of course not." Jha'dur straightened.

"I know you predicted this, but that doesn't give you the right to sneer at fellow officers. Len'char is a good Warmaster."

"May I speak plainly?" Jha'dur asked.

"Always." Answered the Supreme Warmaster, he had learnt that while Jha'dur lacked the tact and subtle speech of other high ranking officers, what she said was usually right.

"He is a good intelligence officer, but a poor field commander." She said. "Giving him an operational command was a mistake, it's just a way for him to gain more power and prestige which he will probably try and use to replace you."

"And you have evidence for this?"

"I have instinct sir." Jha'dur answered. "Not enough to prove anything, but enough to be prepared."

Gar'shan settled back, suddenly looking very old and weary. "I know I am old, and that soon my days will end."

"Not soon sir, I expect many years will pass before…"

"That is not necessary." He said sharply. "I do not need platitudes!" he grunted. "I have decided that you should replace me, you already know this, but the decision is the Emperors alone, and the Emperor is a puppet of the Warmasters."

The Emperor of the Imperium was a weak minded individual, it was an open secret that every move he made was scripted by the Warmasters, and specifically Len'char. As head of military intelligence he was in charge of influencing the people of the Dilgar race to do what the Warmasters needed, giving him great power during any future leadership contests. Jha'dur knew this and her only hope was to make sure her own successes in the war were greater than his, and happily that seemed like it was about to happen.

"Then whoever rules the council of Warmasters rules the Dilgar." Jha'dur said. "And has always been you, I doubt even Len'char for all his ambition would challenge you."

"But I will not always be here, and soon you and he will be in line to rule our people. You must be the one who succeeds." Gar'shan said. "You are the future of our people."

"I promise your wishes will be seen to, one way or another."

"Well, this is your chance." The old man said. "I give you a chance to shine, to prove your prowess and highlight his failures. Where Len'char has failed to break the Drazi you will succeed. You're orders are to take you fleet and attack in support of Len'char. Basically you can rescue him from the damn mess he has created which I'm sure you'll agree has a nice portent to it."

"Rescuing my rival?" she mulled it over. "I can see that helping my claim to the title of Supreme Warmaster, but I will do it in my way, with your permission."

"You have free reign Jha'dur, do as you will." Gar'shan nodded. "Just make sure the offensive gets back on schedule."

"As you wish, Warmaster." She bowed, and when she returned to her stance the screen was blank and image gone. She had her orders, and a responsibility not only to help the fleets fighting and losing under Warmaster Len'char, but to establish herself as the pre-eminent leader of her people. Gar'shan believed in her, and she would not fail him.

The system chirped again.

"Computer, receive message." She straightened again ready to receive the Supreme Warmaster.

Instead the image showed a bloodied face and a wrecked bridge, a darkened and torn picture of something so familiar, and yet it made her gasp in joy.

"Sister," Sha'dur smiled. Widely. "Its over. We made it."

And that was all she needed to hear before bursting out in relieved laughter and tears of pure joy.

Ssumssha, homeworld of the Abbai Matriarchy.

October 2230.

It was a despondent atmosphere which greeted the _Space Race _as it entered normal space in company with the last survivors from Utriel. Ships seemed to mill around with no real sense of direction and no idea what to do next. Among the survivors there was a state of disbelief, an inability to accept that the horrific events they had all witnessed had actually occurred. The defences had fallen so quickly and the Dilgar brutality was like nothing ever experienced in warfare before, it was an entirely new and terrifying experience and one for which they had been totally unprepared for. It had been as much a psychological defeat for the Abbai as it had been a material defeat.

"Abbai cruiser _Syontar_, thanks for the help." Captain Calendar said wearily, the escape had tired out the whole crew and now the adrenalin was wearing off they were each growing extremely tired. "Couldn't have made it without your help."

"Our pleasure." Captain Cashik replied, nearly 80 of Abbai society were females so Paul hadn't been surprised to here their saviour was a female Captain. "You helped evacuate refugees from the planet, it was an honour to help."

The vortex closed behind them, the next ships expected to enter this system were the Dilgar. It was a chilling thought, and for Paul not something he wanted to stick around for. The defence grid around Ssumssha was incredibly powerful, dwarfing even the frontier defences at Utriel, but after witnessing how quickly the Dilgar had broken through Paul and his crew took no comfort or security behind the walls of guns and mines.

"Once again Captain, you have our thanks." He said sincerely, then ended the transmission. "Alright Jors, take us into orbit. We'll dock at the main spaceport and unload our passengers, T'Koth, could you tell them to be ready to leave?"

The Narn translator nodded and then made his way back to tell the Abbai refugees in their own language that they were now home.

"So we drop the passengers and go?" Toby wondered.

Jors chuckled. "No way, we need to fix the engines and top up our tanks first."

"What's the bad news?" Paul asked, repairs to the ship were taken from a fund pooled by the whole crews profits. Running the ship was extremely expensive and usually accounted for half the cost of a standard job, happily the fees the Abbai had been paying were much greater but even so the costs today were going to be substantial.

"Engine controls are fried." Jors said. "The magnetic fields are gone, flow regulators fused open, shielding and coolant casings burned away, plus those Dilgar fighters added some holes that shouldn't be there. I've been controlling our speed through altering reactor flow directly, which is very bad for the reactor, probably screwed it too."

"Give me some numbers."

"We need a full replacement of the engine modules, five to ten million I'd guess. Our reactor also needs a swap out, that's another ten million or more, depends on damage to the support systems."

"What?" Toby exclaimed. "We could buy a new ship for that!"

"But it wouldn't be as good." Jenny offered. "It wouldn't be the _Race_"

"This ships soldiered on for fifteen years, we fix it." Paul said. "Everyone pays an equal stake in the cost."

"No way!" Toby shouted. "That's like five million each, its almost all of our profits!"

"We signed a deal, the ship comes first!" Paul emphasised.

"I say we scrap it, walk away with the cash."

Paul grabbed the younger man tightly by the shoulder. "This ship saved our lives you ungrateful waster, there isn't another ship in the galaxy that could have done the same things this little freighter has. We will fix her, because we are still a long way from home and this ship is still our only chance of living through this invasion, am I clear?"

Toby frowned, and then nodded in acknowledgement of the dire situation. "The Abbai should fix us for free."

"Yeah well, they've got a war to fund now, they can't give away twenty some million credits to aliens." Paul shrugged. "How long do we think it will take?"

"To do it right?" Jors shrugged "Three months. To get us patched up enough for a home journey, about a week."

"We don't have a day!" Toby cried. "The Dilgar are going to sweep in here like they did before, and this time we are trapped!"

"Quit whining." Paul frowned. "We'll patch the engines enough to get us out of the warzone, then we'll take some time to get our ship back to new. This isn't a debate."

"We should catch the first transport home." Toby sulked.

"There aren't going to be any transports home." Jenny stated. "Anyone with half a brain cell would be long gone by now, only a fool would come here on the eve of an invasion."

"Or someone really greedy, like us." Paul sighed. "In hindsight we should've just stuck to shifting industrial parts to Proxima."

"Well, at least even after repairs we'll still be fairly rich." Jors pointed out. "Enough to make this still profitable, plus we ain't dead."

"Always a positive." Jenny agreed.

Paul leaned back in his chair as Jors decelerated, moving the ship into position above the planet and closing on a spaceport. Slowly the freighter aligned with an extended docking tube and clamped on, a light switched on green on the control panel indicating they had a secure seal.

"Lets get the passengers off, I'm sure they're as glad to be here as we are." He said. "Then we'd better do something about the engines."

"And quickly." Toby pressed. "I don't wanna have to go through all that escaping again."

Office of the President, Geneva, Earth

President Hauser took his time with the report, once again it was in English and he had to examine certain words to make sure he understood them fully. He'd spent most of his career speaking English, though he kept to his native German in private and at home, but every so often he ran into trouble, he figured he was just getting old.

"This is a very specific report." The President nodded. "Well done Mr Durban."

The EIA Chief nodded in acknowledgement. "Our sources in Abbai space are pretty effective, one of our best agents is out there now, plus we receive a lot of data from civilian ships selling their flight data recorders."

"People actually do that?" Secretary of State Brogan asked.

"You'd be surprised how much ISN would pay for good combat footage." Durban said slyly. "And it seems this battle was the biggest thing in a century or two."

"I've got some of our best analysts looking over the footage." Commented General Denisov, the Chairman of the Earth Force Joint chiefs of staff and senior officer of all branches of the military. "We're looking for weaknesses in the Dilgar tactics, observing their firepower and investigating whether or not they can be considered a threat to us."

"Our position is one of caution." Durban said. "We know they are highly aggressive and while we are still trying to ascertain what actually happened to the colony it doesn't look good."

"Planetary annihilation." Brogan observed. "They killed every living thing down there."

"As I indicated, we are still working on the specifics." Durban glared at Brogan, the two men were from opposite ends of the spectrum with Durban a cold and analytical man who wouldn't make any statement until he was utterly sure it was correct. For him information was the only real medium, emotions and opinions were irrelevant, if it didn't have cold hard facts behind it, it wasn't worth knowing. Brogan on the other hand was a man of beliefs and convictions. He looked at a larger picture and tried to gauge what the thoughts and emotions behind the actions he saw were. These two opposite views turned out to be very useful, with each using very different methods to come to the same conclusion, in this case it was to agree that the Dilgar would be a threat to Earth.

"Anything from the Abbai government?" Hauser asked his aides.

"Nothing, they're still in turmoil." Brogan reported. "We understand they're trying to invoke the Leagues mutual defence pact but it seems their fellow worlds are less than willing to help."

"You're kidding?" Hauser said with a hint of shock. "The League isn't going to protect the Abbai?"

"The Drazi might, but no one else has offered to send ships, at least not yet."

"But they are an alliance right? I mean if one League world is attacked all the others respond, surely that's the point of having a damn League in the first place!"

"That's the theory, but it seems not the fact." Durban answered this time. "Despite what the treaties say we don't predict the League will unite, at least not until its too late. Some are over confident, some are just plain scared and hope to remain unnoticed. It comes down to none of them wanting a war, and sure not with the Dilgar."

"The Dilgar hit the League and it broke into its component pieces." Brogan pointed out with distaste. "It was to be expected without a strong guiding force behind them. They just don't have the same moral fibre we humans do, they lack the sense of working for a better future and the greater good."

Director Durban glared at his colleague. "With all due respect to the secretary of State those are opinions, and rather uninformed ones at that. I don't see how he can comment on the morals and ideals of races he has no real understanding of."

"The evidence is there for all of us to see!" Brogan defended. "They refuse to help each other in their time of greatest need! It's tragic, and I am pleased we didn't pursue stronger ties with them because they are untrustworthy, self interested and totally amoral!"

"Your bigoted generalisation is…"

"Gentlemen, please." The President interjected, arguments between Brogan and Durban were getting more and more frequent, especially on the issue of relations with Alien races. Durban favoured working with other powers to expand human influence, while Brogan wanted to keep Earth isolated from the Alien influences he saw as detrimental to Human society. A balance between the two would be ideal, expanding Human influence without impacting their society, but for Hauser that seemed an impossible compromise. "Lets keep to the issue at hand, the Dilgar."

Durban sighed, then composed himself. "We believe they will try for the Abbai homeworld itself, after the fanatical attack on Utriel we are unconvinced their defences will hold."

"They don't have the stomach for war." Brogan added, not to Durban's pleasure.

"For our response Mr President I'd recommend offering food and medical aide, but nothing more at this time." The EIA director said.

"At least we agree on that." Secretary Brogan nodded.

"And the Earth Forces view?" Hauser looked to General Denisov.

"We know little about Dilgar capabilities yet," he answered with a Ukrainian accent. "But they are an advanced and clearly fanatical enemy. They seem to have no quarrel with us and I recommend we do nothing to provoke them, they can't take on the whole League and I expect the war will end soon, especially if the Drazi become involved."

"Very well." Hauser concluded. "We will offer simple aid but nothing more direct for now, our main job is to get a full picture of what happened at Utriel, and from that information we can truly see what the Dilgar are like."

Centauri Prime

Homeworld, Centauri Republic.

Prime Minister Shorra strode pridefully through the corridors of power in the royal palace, its walls draped with fine portraits and lush silks from across the Republic. He quickly calculated the combined worth of the decorations in this wing of the palace alone could fund a small fleet of warships for the navy, but considered the art and décor a more worthy use of that money. The Centauri didn't need any more Warships, but the art of this palace had a value beyond the tangible, it was living history and a direct link to the great days of the Centauri people when they lived like gods and the stars before them trembled at their might.

Of course nothing lasts forever, and the Centauri were now a shadow of their former selves, brought down from within rather than from outside. The different noble houses had squabbled and bickered with each other creating constant conflict within the government and dividing the great realm. The Orieni war had been a disasterous miscalculation which had hastened the fall of the Republic and the resulting civil war had almost destroyed them. They had rebuilt, tried to expand again and had found the Narn among others, which had proven to be akin to opening Pandora's box and unleashing a universe of hatred and pain which eventually ended their dreams of expansion and left the Republic as it appeared this day, little more than two decades since the Narns gained their independence.

Shorra reached his destination, a pair of gilded gates enclosing the Throne room of the Emperor. He straightened his dark blue coat liberally encrusted in gold thread, hoped his crest wasn't as large as the Emperors, and then nodded to the guards to let him past.

Emperor Turhan was engrossed in a report, the rich parchment was a left over of an ancient tradition where the Emperor would only touch the finest paper available, and so to this day even with holographic imagers reports were hand written on a supply of high grade parchment at unnecessary cost. Shorra corrected himself, it wasn't unnecessary because like everything in this palace it was a link to their past, and tradition was priceless. He stood before the Emperor, bowed, and waited. One did not address the Emperor first, even if it meant standing in silence for hours waiting for his attention Shorra could make no suggestion that the Emperor should hurry. Shorra knew the previous Emperor had gone senile before his death and the combined leaders of the Royal navy had been summoned and then promptly forgotten about for six whole days last year, a situation which if widely known would probably have caused the Narns much amusement. Perhaps sometimes the Centauri were slaves to their past rather than preservers of it.

"Prime Minister," The Emperor acknowledged his presence. "Have you spoken to the Centaurum?"

"Yes Majesty, they are quite concerned with Narn overtures toward the Gorash system."

"I'm sure they are." Turhan nodded. "Though you and I both know their main concern is consolidating their position under my rule."

Shorra did not reply, it was of course completely true. The Noble houses had been squabbling in the power vacuum which came when the prior Emperor had died and Turhan was only just starting to impose his authority. The houses were only concerned with themselves, and the greater glory of the Republic seemed a distant second to personal greed. It was a shameful time to be a Centauri.

"Look at our people Shorra, look at what we have become." Turhan intoned as if reading the Prime Ministers mind. "Consumed by our own petty greed and ambition, is it any wonder the Narn are at our throats."

Again he kept his silence.

"We have become weak, vulnerable to our enemies. The Republic is a hollow shell which looks grand on the outside but is empty within, if the Narns discover that by attacking us it could spell disaster."

"Forgive me Emperor, but do you believe the Narns could defeat us in war?"

"Ultimately, no." the Emperor said gravely. "We are still too powerful for them, but we are also divided and it will take time for us to oppose them, the houses hate each other and would bicker over tactics and strategy while the Narn burn our border worlds. We would eventually drive them back but the damage would be done and our vulnerabilities shown to other potential and more dangerous enemies."

Shorra understood. "You mean the Dilgar."

"Precisely." Turhan nodded, while he was intelligent and an excellent politician he had a rather warm face and some would say a gentle nature, something tremendously rare in a Monarch of the Centauri. His rise to the throne was due to careful coordination, a lengthy process of gathering allies in the Centaurum and laying down favours and offers to clear the path for ascention to the Throne. When Emperor Deraini finally died, some would say with assistance, Turhans plans were so flawlessly laid no one else could gather enough support to seriously challenge him. He became Emperor through politics, perhaps not the soundest of bases.

"I understand the Dilgar have already attacked the Abbai." Shorra said.

"Yes, and the latest reports say they are also fighting the Drazi."

"A war on two fronts? Not the wisest move."

"No, but they seem to be making progress." Turhan stated. "Examine their battles, you will find they are a far more dangerous enemy than the Narn. If we are weakened by a Narn attack, and further divided by arguments and bickering over blame and spoils afterwards we will be a ripe target for the Dilgar, the galaxy's biggest prize."

Shorra hadn't considered that before, believing in the perceived invincibility of the Centauri Royal navy. It was still considered the most powerful force in the galaxy but perhaps not so feared as it once was. Of all the races in the galaxy he had felt most threatened by the Narns, they were the Republics bogeymen, the object of fear mothers used to frighten their children into behaving. But now it appeared that maybe the real threat was actually not the Narns at all, but the Dilgar.

"We know the Narn and Dilgar have a treaty, though the specifics are secret." Turhan explained, his political mind working through the options, "If they are working together no doubt they each want something from the other. They will try to play the other faction, to turn their policies to suit their own long term goals and I have a feeling that both those factions want to see us removed from the galaxy."

"So we must plan for the worst?"

"Indeed, our aim should be to avoid a war at all costs until we strengthen ourselves. My goal as Emperor is to unite our people once more, not in the goal of conquest or recapturing the past, but in the aim of creating a new Centauri Republic, one which tries to forge a better and peaceful future and maintain a very strong defence as deterrent. I fear the Narns may be a great trial for us, but at this hour it is the Dilgar we should fear."

"Our commanders do not think they will meet much more success Majesty, not if they press on against the whole League." Shorra mentioned.

"Perhaps, but if the League is conquered they will have a resource base to rival us, and a battle hardened and unified fleet which makes our navy look like a local militia fleet. Throw in the Narns and they will be unstoppable, not us, not the Humans, maybe not even the Minbari would be able to stop them. That is where I predict this war going, and we must be ready for it." Turhan dismissed him with a wave.

Shorra bowed, head spinning with new and unwanted thoughts. An all powerful Empire growing on their border was a great fear of the Centauri, they had been rather disturbed by the rapid growth of the Earth Alliance but at least the humans were content to mind their own business and work through trade. The Dilgar were an infinitely more difficult problem, and Turhan was right, if the Dilgar attacked the Republic there was no guarantee that his people would drive them back, and if they amassed a significant power base it would be hopeless. He hoped Turhan had a damn good plan.

Ssumssha, Abbai homeworld.

Shala'dan narrowed his eyes, the heavy build of his face precluded any subtle expressions of regret or sympathy so he had simply learned to say things outright and avoid all that needless small talk. That did not mean he was callous, far from it, at this moment he was feeling great sympathy for the Abbai and really didn't want to deliver his news. Unfortunately they had to know.

He stood before the Natar, supreme leader and mother figure for the Abbai in her court chambers, with her were the main advisors to the Abbai government and Ambassador Alikie, all of whom were waiting anxiously for his message.

"It is my duty to tell you that no Drazi ships will be able to help you in your defence, I am sincerely sorry."

There was a cacophony of calls as the audience bombarded him and the Natar with questions and comments, the noise slowly dying as the leader raised her hand to quell the crowded advisors.

"Tell me, why will no ships come." The Natar said softly, she didn't need to raise her voice as utter silence reigned whenever she spoke and her words drifted clearly to the Drazi representative. "We had a mutual defence treaty separate to the League pact."

"Yes Ma'am." He said. "However my government reports a large Dilgar fleet is attacking the Tithalis system and it is taken the bulk of our ships to drive them back."

"The Drazi are being attacked simultaneously?" Alikie said in some surprise. "It seems we underestimated their numbers."

"And their will to do battle." The Natar observed. "The rest of the League has refused us, offering only sympathy."

"The Drazi will come to your aid, but first we must defeat the ships attacking us and that may take time." Shal'dan stated. "We will honour the treaty."

"I believe you." The Natar nodded. "I only hope our world is here to meet you." She seemed to shrink in her throne, becoming physically smaller as the realities weighed down on her. "So we can expect no help from our neighbours, and our confidence in our defences appears misplaced."

"Our planetary defences are impenetrable." A General said confidently.

"That's what we thought about Utriel." The Natar commented. "No, we must be fully prepared for this eventuality, we must have a plan ready for if the Dilgar break through, and you Ambassador Shala'dan will liase with our fleet to come up with a suitably robust contingency. I feel it will take a Drazi perspective to prepare us for confronting the Dilgar fleet on open ground."

Shala'dan bowed. "I offer what help I can."

"In all our history we have never faced a threat like this before." The Abbai Matriarch said. "We stand on the edge of total destruction, of extinction merely days or hours away. It is unthinkable, but we must think it, we must examine it and we must fight to prevent it, to kill those who would kill us. We have no choice, we have nothing else to do and no one else to count on but ourselves. We stand alone, and may the Great Mother help us all in this time."

The Abbai bowed their heads in respect to their deity and offered a silent prayer.

"Courage to us all." The Natar finished. "For we are alone."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

Dilgar 1st Strike fleet

Jha'dur was excited, she stood on the edge of an event which would see all her plans put into effect and would mark a great moment for the Dilgar race. As far as moments go it was a grand one, something history books would examine for millennia and the token by which she would be known. The offensive into Drazi space was breaking, the main fleet under Warmaster Len'char was collapsing at Tithalis and would soon be forced to retreat back without her help so jeopardizing the entire war and leaving the Dilgar border open to counter attack. She had resolved to make sure that would not happen and to give the Drazi a lesson in total war.

Her good mood was helped by the news her brother was safe, and although his ship was little more than a shell of its former self he was unharmed and tremendously pleased with the success of the fleet. It wasn't until she reviewed a log of the battle that she truly comprehended just how much danger Sha'dur had put himself in, and that he had almost single handedly ensured victory by rallying the fleet and inspiring them to keep fighting. She had felt so proud at that moment that it eclipsed all her other concerns, it seemed inevitable her Brother would become a Warmaster in his own right and assume command of the Abbai expedition.

Her joy was still with her despite the difficult task ahead, she was under no illusions and expected a very hard fight, but she had also learned about her enemy and knew the weaknesses of the Drazi, something she would exploit today. The Drazi knew there was a second Dilgar fleet in the area and that Jha'dur commanded it. They knew that it would be deployed at Tithalis to help her embattled comrades and they had planned accordingly, keeping a large strategic reserve ready to confront her when she arrived. The Drazi were expecting her, Len'char was expecting her, it seemed everyone was waiting for her fleet to show up for a bloody and decisive battle. Therefore she decided to do something totally unexpected and ignore the Tithalis system. Her battle was to be elsewhere.

"We've reached the Latig beacon." Captain An'jash reported, a Dilgar female with bright white hair and dark green eyes. She was striking in appearance but more importantly was an excellent tactician and knew how to get the most from the _Conqueror_. The ship was a standard _Mishakur_ class dreadnought well armed with laser cannons, heavy bolters, missiles and pulsar weapons. It was an excellent blend of firepower, speed and agility with reasonably solid armour and a good fighter compliment. While the ship performed well Jha'durs first act as Warmaster was to commission a modified version for her personal use with an altered weapons load and extensive labs and scientific facilities for conducting research over combat zones. The ship was not quite ready yet and still needed a good name, so for now the _Conqueror_ proved more than sufficient.

"Alert the fleet." Jha'dur purred in her calm tones. "Exit hyperspace and assume combat formations, stay in standard Pentacan formation until ordered otherwise."

She noted the slight rumble from the ships engines as they delivered the power necessary to return to normal space. Her bridge was deep within the armoured hull of the ship and had no windows on the outside world, but in her minds eye she could visualize the red of hyperspace parting to show the darkness of space beyond, with the star Latig somewhere in the distance. The banks of data around her lit up and shifted to active status as the warship made its transition and began searching near space for threats and targets.

The Latig system was home to a major colony on the fourth planet and a number of listening posts and fleet bases. Strategically it was highly valuable to the Drazi and as such was perfect for her plan, she imagined the little aliens running around in panic as her warships entered their system by the hundred, saw them activating their sensors and quailing in terror. This would be a moment of sweet revenge, the fulfilment of a personal oath to ensure the Drazi species ceased to plague the galaxy.

Her mind drifted back to her youth, to the image of her father as he went to war against the Drazi, a small border dispute which had tested the latest ships and technology of the Imperium. The news had said it was a quick and almost totally clean affair, a demonstration of Dilgar superiority with only three vessels lost to the enemy. But for Jha'dur it had been no cause for joy, one of those ships belonged to her father and when the official from the Navy had arrived it was she who opened the door and let him in. Even as a child she had known what the tall officer had come for, and knew her family was broken. It was the first time she had felt the presence of death, something which had since become her constant companion in life. She had finally reasoned that if death had a special interest in her she may as well use it to the advantage of her people, and now she was the bringer of death, she was no longer its plaything but its master. The Drazi would learn that today.

"They are sending distress signals." An'jash reported. "Calling on their fleet."

Jha'dur nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent, what are their local forces?"

"Two task forces of _Sunhawks_, they're moving to intercept."

Good old predictable Drazi, outnumbered by hundreds they still insisted on attacking instead of preserving their force until help arrived. Jha'dur ordered the second and third wings to move to intercept with a few taps of her keyboard.

The two units formed up in a Pentacan formation, an inverted 'V' formation with a Cruiser at the apex and destroyers extending out into two arms on either side. The intention was to provide a cone of firepower and use their speed and agility to trap enemy ships within the centre of the 'V' shape and strike them from multiple angles. The tactic had worked well in the past, and Jha'dur had developed plans for a three dimensional Pentacan based on six axis', but for now the fleets were only trained in the traditional arrangement. The Drazi took the bait, charging headlong for the largest ship at the apex and left themselves open to attack on three sides. The attack ships weren't built to take much punishment and fell apart rapidly under the barrage, their charge brave but foolish and ultimately pointless. The Dilgar fleet wasn't even slowed down.

"Set us up in orbit of Latig IV and stand by." Jha'dur ordered. "Have the Eighth corps ready to deploy after a preliminary strike."

She was taking a gamble, it was all based on Drazi mentality and her understanding of how they fought and lived. By attacking Latig she knew Warmaster Len'char would consider her actions a betrayal, he would immediately withdraw from Tithalis leaving his casualties behind and return to Dilgar space fuming and expecting a Drazi counter attack. If the Drazi were competent commanders they would mount that counter attack and then redeploy forces from other sectors to meet Jha'dur at Latig, however assembling those forces took time, perhaps days, while the Tithalis force could be in battle within hours. She gambled that the temptation of fighting her at Latig would drive the Drazi to send their fleet to her first and leave Len'char to withdraw in good order. By attacking Latig she was issuing a challenge to the Drazi, daring them to come and fight her, and she had never once heard of a Drazi not responding to such a challenge.

Tithalis was a place of their choosing and she had no intention of going there, she would make them fight on a place of her choosing to her timetable and under a situation she set up. She would dominate this battle and control every tiny detail of the Drazi's destruction, and then she would exact her revenge. Len'char would be disgraced, the offensive saved and her name showered with glory, plus she would have uncounted dead Drazi at her feet. It was all so perfect.

"We are in position Warmaster." Her Captain said.

"I don't want to destroy them all, just send a message." She grinned. "Tell the fifth bombardment wing to remove a city from the planet, I don't care which one."

A dozen modified destroyers came into view on the tactical displays, they each carried a fully primed mass driver. Latig had nothing in the way of orbital defences, their whole concept of defence was based on a strong mobile fleet which was unfortunately fighting elsewhere at the moment, though probably quickly disengaging. Jha'dur watched in great satisfaction as the weapons charged up, a steady glow of energy wrapping around the boulders as the ships pointed down at a major city on the main continent. She was physically tingling with anticipation as the weapons reached critical charge and fired, her whole being was prepared to sing out and jump for joy as the rocks burned through the sky and smashed into the planet below. She was utterly ecstatic, actually feeling pleasure at the awesome devastation being visited upon the Drazi at her word. She was a dealer of death, in her mind the best in the galaxy, and eventually everyone would share that opinion.

It only took one salvo from the ships, enhanced video images showed the rocks hit and tall towers disintegrate like confetti in a storm. The low buildings vanished in the massive seismic shocks and the resulting damage was hidden by a thick dust cloud. She didn't need the specifics, it was enough to know the city and its foul inhabitants were gone.

"Deploy landing forces." She announced, her mind still savouring the beautiful destruction she had wrought. "Third and fourth wings will stay and support them, the rest of the fleet will return to hyperspace."

"Forgive me Warmaster, but the Drazi will be coming, I do not think two wings will hold them." Captain An'jash said carefully and respectfully.

"No, I don't expect they will." Jha'dur nodded. An'jash waited for a further explanation but none was forthcoming. The Dilgar were a highly militant society and since she had been able to speak An'jash had been ordered never to question or pry into the orders of her superiors, whether parents or teachers, or now in adulthood her superior military officers. Not only that, but her commander was none other than the brightest and most enigmatic of the Council of Warmasters, to question or doubt her orders went against everything that had been ingrained in her.

"Then why not keep the whole fleet here, otherwise our troops on the surface will be doomed."

Jha'dur had a free choice of officers for her fleet, serving with her as Captain of the _Conqueror_ was considered one of the highest honours in the Imperium and a whole squadron of senior officers had put themselves forward. She had sifted through the cream of the navy, the highest graduating academy students, hardened veterans, none of them really caught her attention. But then she had stumbled across An'jash's file. The officer had been demoted for answering back to her superior and questioning his decision to follow a Drazi raiding party. It turned out to be a trap and An'jash had been proven right, but was still disciplined for insubordination.

Jha'dur had noticed something in that file she connected with, An'jash would speak her mind despite protocol if she thought she was right. It was something Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan had noticed in Jha'dur herself and encouraged, so she decided to follow his example and arranged for the officer to be promoted and sent to her command where her supposed flaws would actually be her greatest asset. Where another Warmaster would have her flogged for questioning the order, Jha'dur enjoyed it, allowing her to explain it out loud and go over any flaws she may have missed.

"It is a trap for the Drazi Captain, We will not meet them in open combat we will instead lure them into Latig IV's gravity well where they will be slowed down and vulnerable, and then strike them from behind, wiping out the entire Drazi defence force in this sector."

An'jash nodded. "I see Warmaster, but what about our forces in orbit? Can we get back in time to help them?"

Jha'durs face darkened a little, when formulating the plan she had asked herself the same thing. It had been the toughest decision she had to make for the whole operation. "No, I doubt we will. Both wings will be destroyed, and I expect the fifty thousand troops we just sent down to the surface will also be destroyed. But this is war, and you have no idea how much we stand to lose if we should fail. Every trap needs bait, a lure large enough to draw in the entire enemy force. Leaving a handful of ships and a battalion of troops wouldn't be enough, I have to make sure the entire Drazi force is committed to this battle, I have to make sure they deploy forces to the planet and move into orbit to support them, I have to sacrifice some of our people to get the Drazi right where I want them."

There was no other way she could imagine, the Drazi would respond and she had the ability to totally destroy their resistance and open up the entire border colonies to attack and cleansing, but the price would be high and she would have to pay it in order to succeed. There was no other way.

"We must ensure that those who die do so with honour and with meaning, we will deliver a great and crushing victory, but we do it on my terms, not the Drazi terms. Ultimately we will save more lives then we lose, remember that, for it is the definition of command. Now, activate jump engines and withdraw the main fleet, we'll hold away from the beacon and prepare for a battle the like of which you cannot imagine."

Captain An'jash saluted, her face blank. Jha'dur didn't know if she agreed with her decision or not, but she did carry out her orders and that was enough. If she succeeded she would be a hero of the Dilgar, if she failed she would probably pay with her life before a firing squad. Either she would leave Latig victorious, or she simply would not leave. The fleet vanished into hyperspace, deployed away from the main trade routes and awaited its prey.

EarthDome, Geneva.

Morgan Clark had a tiny office underneath the main government complex, a series of simple brick buildings beside Lake Geneva. While the President and the Senate had an extravagant set of offices and chambers actually jutting out onto the lake in the round building which put the 'dome' in 'EarthDome' most of the bureaucrats lived and worked in more traditional offices. For Clark that meant a subterranean cubby hole sandwiched between generators and building supplies in the EIA central office on the edge of the various government buildings.

Of course he didn't really mind, he had only left university a year earlier with a solid history degree and a passion for his planet's past. During his final year his tutors had put him in touch with a member of EarthGov who suggested his mind would be of great use to his people if he was interested. It had been a guaranteed job which was very welcome, but more importantly a chance to serve and progress his people as it reached out into space, he could be at the forefront of that, putting humanity on the interstellar map and making sure the aliens didn't take advantage of his world. He took the job and found himself an analyst and information interpreter for the Earth Intelligence Agency, almost a dream job with tremendous potential for advancement. Living and working in the basement was a temporary inconvenience, he had already made an impression with the Director Carl Durban and expected a promotion to actual daylight in the near future.

A thumping on his door caused him to look up from the report he was preparing, it was a summary of information on the Dilgar fighter programme gleaned from the League. The Earth Force chiefs of staff seemed particularly concerned about the Thorun fighters and their impressive combat record.

"Yes, come in." Clark called, his voice sounding tinny in the concrete room.

To his surprise instead of seeing the mailman or an Intelligence officer wanting another report, he found Secretary of State Harry Brogan on his threshold.

"Agent Clark, hope I'm not disturbing you." He smiled, his thick bible belt accent smooth as treacle.

"Of course not sir," Clark hurriedly cleared a space on his desk and ran around to drag up a chair. "Please, sit down."

Brogan nodded his thanks and settled down, Clark seating himself opposite.

"I have to say sir, I don't usually get high level officials down here. Actually I don't get anyone much down here."

"Certainly not cleaners." Brogan observed with a chuckle. "I noticed you in a meeting with the President a while ago, you were aiding Director Durban."

"Yes sir, I've been studying the Dilgar for the past few months, whenever Mr Durban needs someone to take notes or offer information on them he calls me."

"That's pretty impressive, to have the ear of the Director on this matter." Brogan spoke softly. "So he listens to you about the Dilgar?"

"Yes sir." Clark answered. "Its sort of my speciality."

"Are you fascinated by the Alien Mr Clark?" Brogan asked quite unexpectedly. "Do you perhaps admire them, respect them?"

"No sir." Clark answered immediately, it was a question he had asked himself many times in the past and had answered before. "I respect individuals for their merits sir, but not simply because they appear more advanced."

"So the Dilgar for example, are they better than us?" Brogan wondered. "In your opinion of course."

"I don't think so. They seem an older civilization but that doesn't make them better. Sure they had space travel before us, sure their scientists have had longer to work on their technology, but mankind has developed in other ways." Clark smiled a little, this was something he'd written in his exam paper. "Aliens evolved differently, the Abbai for example had no wars on their world, they all worked together and placed science as their civilizations goal, that's why they advanced so quickly. Other races only advanced by accident, by finding alien ships on their world or getting invaded by other powers and learning from them. We didn't. We got here ourselves with no outside help, while the Abbai were exploring science we were fighting wars and learning better ways to out smart and out fight our enemies. We might not be advanced scientifically, but our society is just as developed as anyone else's, in many ways we're superior because we did all this ourselves."

"Except for that little boost the Centauri gave us, with the jump gate?" Brogan said.

Clark went slightly embarrassed. True enough without a visit from the Centauri Earth would probably just be locked in the Sol system, and who knows what the galaxy would be like. "I think we'd have got there in the end ourselves." He answered. "It'd just have taken a little longer."

"You have some interesting opinions." Brogan nodded. "And I think we have much in common. We share a belief about humanities place in the galaxy don't we? That we should be a strong part of it but not controlled by it?"

"That's a good way of putting it sir." Clark agreed. "Our ideals and basic concepts of civilization are much better than anything we've seen among the other aliens, our society is much more tolerant and balanced than the other Aliens we've seen."

"So you consider humanity a leader of galactic civilization?"

"You could say that." Clark nodded. "I think the galaxy could learn a lot from us."

Brogan grinned widely. "You're absolutely right!" He leaned forward and banged the table, startling Clark. "We share the same ideas Mr Clark, and it is a relief to find a bright young man who understands the galaxy. Humanity is the leading civilization, and it is my dream to put us at the head of galactic politics, influencing others while maintaining our own traditions pure and untainted by misguided Alien philosophy."

Clark smiled a little, agreeing with the Secretary.

"We need the Earth Alliance to be strong," Brogan continued, "We need to prove ourselves to the aliens, to show them what we already know about our place in things. Now we were making good progress with the Centauri and the League until the present situation, did you hear the Dilgar are also hitting the Drazi?"

That was news to Clark, and seemed risky. The Drazi were a very formidable force and fighting them while also sending a fleet against the Abbai was a big gamble.

"Do you know who's leading the attack sir?"

"We had a ship ID from the Drazi saying Warmaster Len'char. He ain't doing too good."

Clark nodded, recognizing the name as the head of Dilgar military intelligence. "If the Drazi beat them back it could get messy."

"More than that, if the Drazi defeat the Dilgar it'll strengthen their place in the League, make it harder for us to establish our influence." Brogan pointed out. "But on the other hand if the Dilgar win it'll be bad for the League and cause us some major problems in the future. I don't have to tell you how the Dilgar react to outsiders."

Earth had tried to open diplomatic relations with all the known powers, it had gone well with the League and Centauri, even the Narns had thawed in the last five years after initial skirmishes, but the Dilgar had totally ignored the Earth expeditions and from what the Centauri said they were just as harsh with the envoys of other races. If the Dilgar won it would put an aggressive and suddenly much larger power right on Earths doorstep, one other which they would have no influence.

"So you see we have an issue, this war could undo decades of work, with either the Drazi or the Dilgar taking the place of Earth on the galactic political scene." Brogan explained. "Now I think we should do something about it, but before we do its important that we have as much information as possible about the Dilgar."

"Well sir, my reports are very thorough, they have everything we've collected on the Dilgar." Clark stated.

"I know, I've read them and your university reports, that's why I'm here talking to you and not Director Durban."

"He doesn't know you're here?"

"Point is, we don't know what we need to." Brogan went on ignoring Clarks comment. "We don't know how effective they are in battle and as a result we can't predict how this war will end."

"Well data is pretty thin." Clark shrugged. "We bought some data recorders from civilian ships at Utriel, but they were pretty useless, it just showed how fast they could run away. What we want is data from a ship caught in the thick of the fighting, but as far as we know only a couple of warships survived and the Abbai are holding that info close to them."

"Do we have anything out there?" Brogan asked.

Clark paused, wondering if he should talk about the deployment of the EIA spy ships. He quickly decided that as the third most powerful man in the Alliance Brogan had the authority to know. "We do have spy ships in the League, they've intercepted signals which our code breakers are working on but so far nothing, and the Director isn't willing to risk them by sending them closer to battle."

"Okay, lets say I could give you anything you wanted." Brogan waved his hands. "Any method you need, what's the best way to get information on the Dilgar warmachine?"

"Ideally? To have one of our ships in a system the Dilgar hit." Clark said. "It could hide on the outskirts, monitor the battle, then send the data home for analysis."

"An expedition?" Brogan nodded. "And one battle would be enough?"

"Enough to gauge their power and capabilities." Clark agreed. "But if we wanted to know stuff like tactics, weaknesses of individual commanders, formations and…"

"Not just yet." Brogan interrupted. "For now I'm just interested in seeing how much of a threat they are and if they'll beat the League."

"If I was director, I'd send a ship." Clark nodded. "But Mr Durban never would, our ships are disguised as civilians but the Dilgar seem to have a habit of destroying everything in a system, even neutral vessels. He'd never risk getting one of our assets caught out there."

"Director Durban isn't like us, he is too cautious. We understand that sometimes you gotta take a risk, right?"

"Yes sir."

"So an expedition." Brogan nodded. "I'll get you one within the week."

"Excuse me sir, what?" Clark blinked in astonishment.

"The director is a powerful man, but he answers to the President who answers in turn to the Senate. If the Senate demands more information on the Dilgar the President will make Director Durban do something about it. You already said he looks to you for facts on the Dilgar, he trusts you, so he'll ask you what the best way is and you just tell him what you told me."

"To send a ship." Clark stated.

"To send a ship." Brogan nodded. "I think you and I are on the same page Mr Clark, we understand whats best for Earth. Director Durban wants to keep Earth strong like we do, he just doesn't understand things the way we do, but you can help him to see things our way, do you understand me Mr Clark?"

"Yes sir, I believe I do." Clark was feeling deeply nervous, he was setting foot in a much bigger world than he could have predicted, playing a part in the highest levels of Earth Alliance policy. It was over whelming, he was going to set Earth on its future path after ust a year in service! "We need to formulate a response to the Dilgar, and for that we need information."

"I'll set up the Senate and the President, Durban won't want to do it but he'll be undecided. It's up to you to finally convince him. You up for the job?"

"Yes sir, I am." Clark said confidently, this was after all what he wanted. He was just surprised how quick it was coming.

"In two years there is an election coming." Brogan lowered his voice. "Now I have a lot of friends in the Senate, and if we get this Dilgar situation right, if I predict something which comes to pass it'll give me a very strong position from which to run for office, you following me?"

"I think so, you want to use the Dilgar to get you into the Presidents office."

"Something like that." Brogan nodded. "And when I do become President, I'll remember those who helped me get there, Mr Clark." He grinned widely. "Stick to me, and I'll make sure your efforts and dedication get recognized and rewarded."

"You can count on me," Clark nodded enthusiastically. "When the time comes I'll convince the director to go along with your ideas."

"Our ideas." Brogan corrected. "Like I said, I won't forget your help."

"Thank you sir."

The Secretary of State stood and headed for the door. "Now you keep me informed," he said as he opened the door. "And watch the next debate in the Senate, it'll be a good one."

Clark settled back with a wide smile as Brogan left. Maybe that promotion was closer than he had guessed.

Latig IV, Drazi space.

The Drazi response was as swift and overwhelming as she had expected, as always they were using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. The few dozen Dilgar ships in orbit were swamped by thousands of Drazi attack ships, the small ships driving forwards recklessly and closing to point blank range before firing. Her guarding ships made them pay for victory, but it didn't take long for the inevitable to happen and soon the Drazi fleet had mastered the system. They settled enthusiastically in orbit and began landing reinforcements to totally destroy the Dilgar soldiers on the surface and bulk up the garrison in case of a Dilgar counter attack, an assault they expected to come in a day or two from Dilgar territory, something they would have a warning of and a time to prepare for. Jha'dur would deny them that luxury.

She had kept her fleet nearby, holding away from the hyperspace beacon. It was a tremendously risky move, the beacon system was the only sure way to navigate hyperspace and moving away from the network, although useful for hiding forces, could result in disaster if the signal was disrupted. Without a lock onto the beacon a ship would drift away blind and helpless never to be seen again, and in Jha'durs case two thousand ships and the solid elite of the Dilgar navy would never be seen again. All it needed was one momentary failure in her command ships sensors and they would be gone, and the war lost. Her officers told her five ships had already disappeared, they were strung out with each ship in the fleet holding station beside its neighbour stretching out far beyond the beacon, only a dozen vessels were actually monitoring the beacon itself. Jha'dur doubted anyone else in the galaxy would do something so utterly reckless and dangerous, but to her all risks were acceptable if it led to a Dilgar victory, and survival for her people.

"This is our moment." She said solemnly. "The day we show the Drazi the true meaning of war. The galaxy is watching us, lets give them something to remember and tremble at. Activate jump engines."

The Drazi fleet was built mainly around the ubiquitous _Sunhawk_ class attack ship. It was a small vessel compared to most races ships but fast and agile. It was built for attacking with all its weapons fixed forward and only token defences to the sides and rear and no provision for a fighter squadron. They were cheap, poorly armoured, but also very simple to build and deployed in large numbers. At Tithalis the Drazi had sent wave after wave of ships at Warmaster Len'char forcing him onto the defensive and robbing him of all his advantages, something Jha'dur would not allow. Right now Len'chars fleet was licking its wounds at the Colony of Ettam, and almost the entire Drazi assault fleet was milling around just waiting for her to come and crush it.

The Dilgar ships arrived behind the Drazi, and much closer than expected taking them utterly by surprise. Their whole fleet was deployed around the planet with no reserves or guard ships which could have responded to Jha'durs arrival or disrupted her deployment. She was able to set up her warships and launch fighters with no trouble at all while the Drazi fleet quickly altered course and set of to attack her.

She had to allow a little chuckle, the Drazi had seen her and simply accelerated forward from wherever they were, enraged by her arrival they immediately set off to kill her ships, blind hatred and anger driving them forward with no regard for personal safety. And no regard for common sense. The ships were in random formations, no sort of coordination or timing to the attack, just a charging rabble. The forward elements of the Drazi fleet were scattered, clumps of a few dozen ships which would be easy prey for her guns. The main body was more of a problem though, literally hundreds of ships crowded together in a solid mass hurtling forward. Jha'dur recognized that without proper deployment that mass was its own worst enemy, they would mask each others fire, get in their way and be unable to redeploy and respond to threats. It was however still a brutal looking group and a nasty concentration of force. This was going to need careful timing.

"Deploy into Pentacan formations." She ordered. "Keep the fleet loose, we'll have to be flexible enough to bend and twist with the Drazi assault. Make sure each formation can cover the next."

With practiced speed the Dilgar ships broke into units of five setting up their hollow 'V' formations, with the _Conqueror_ and a few more elite ships forming their escorts into more complicated three dimensional 'V' formations, more like cones or funnels to draw in and shower enemy ships with weapons fire.

The Drazi came on regardless, their massed attacks had beaten Len'char and in the past had driven off Centauri incursions too, but today their enemy was ready for them. Long range missile fire began, nuclear tipped weapons streaking forward into the leading enemy ships. Many were destroyed, and many missiles were shot down, but the advance as a whole kept on coming. Jha'dur hoped for this, the missiles were not intended to outright destroy the Drazi but instead to break up their massed ships, cause them to take evasive action and spread them out so they would not be able to concentrate their forces adequately, and it was working very well. The leading Drazi ships had been split into pairs or small groups, and these ships now ran straight into the Dilgar killing zones, funnelled into the Pentacans and picked off by the vicious crossfire slicing into the weak flank armour of the Drazi attack ships. Some smarter Drazi tried to avoid the crossfire, sweeping above or around the Pentacans only to find themselves at the heart of a different formation set up on a different axis which caught them as they flew downwards trying to take advantage of the planar formation. They too found only crossfire and destruction.

Jha'dur had deployed her fleets carefully, while most ships faced the planet enough had been deployed facing upwards and downwards relative to the line of advance in order to catch any flanking forces. It wasn't particularly necessary as Drazi rarely employed such tactics, preferring to take enemies head on, but Jha'dur was nothing if not methodical. With the vanguard forces destroyed or fighting a rapidly losing battle with her interlocking fields of fire raining down from five separate sides she turned her attention to the main mass of ships heading for her.

"Missile command, continue long range disruption fire, fighter command deploy and attack. All other units hold position for now."

She found herself strangely calm, the excitement leading up to the battle had been replaced by a calm confidence, like a mechanism which simply churned out orders and was analysing tactics two or three steps ahead of the battles events. She knew exactly where she needed her ships ten minutes from now and exactly how to get them there. She could see where the Drazi would go and what would happen when they got there. She planned for it, set up reserves, had threatened units ready to fall back under covering fire, it was all like a beautiful game of strategy she enjoyed in childhood, a contest of minds and wills rather than technology and vigour. It was the smart people who would win this war, not the most violent or the best equipped, but those with the mind for war and the will to carry it out. These Drazi were already dead, she just had to make it happen quickly.

Once again the missile batteries engaged, by this time the Drazi had a harder time avoiding them being so close packed. Some tried to evade and hit comrades, and then both vessels died as the guided missiles homed in and exploded with massive megaton yields. The edges of the formation were able to spread out to avoid the worst of the barrage, and gradually the Drazi attack began to spread out and thin, though its centre remained heavily concentrated.

It was now Jha'dur unleashed her secret weapon, the massed wings of Thorun heavy fighters. The craft had become almost legends in Dilgar circles and had already earned the fear of the Abbai, Len'char had used the fighters purely defensively in his battle and had wasted them, but Jha'dur recognized the potential of these devastating fighters especially against the thinly armoured Drazi ships, and she unleashed them enmasse.

The fighters moved aggressively around the flanks of the Drazi attack using their speed and agility to avoid most of the rather sparodic defensive fire. The Drazi for their part paid little attention to the Thoruns, remaining focused on the glorious target of the Dilgar strike fleet showering them with missiles and goading them into battle. The Dilgar fighters swept around, some broke away to engage the few Drazi fighters present but most lined up on the Drazi assault and raced forward.

The Drazi had badly underestimated the seemingly irritating fighters. The Thoruns were armed with a set of particularly effective cannons found it extremely easy to punch through the hulls of Drazi ships and do precise damage to exactly the worst systems on the target vessels. Where one fighter was a problem the Drazi were faced with them by the thousand concentrating on the rearmost ships and swarming them a squadron at a time. A dozen fighters to each targeted _Sunhawk_ was simply more than the light Drazi ships could handle, they found themselves unable to hit the Thoruns with their inadequate defence grid and watched helplessly as the Dilgar pilots effortlessly stripped them of weapons and engines. Sometimes a ship would explode, other times a neighbouring ship would be able to help, burning the Dilgar fighters out of the sky with a heavy cannon. Occasionally a unit of Drazi fighters would show up and disrupt an attack before the Thoruns rounded on them, tearing the light Drazi fighters to ribbons. The few Star Serpent fighters that accompanied the Drazi ships, craft almost as tough as a patrol ship, found themselves out numbered and outgunned and unable to make an impression on the attack. The Drazi fleet was thinning even more.

The Warmaster looked on in silence at the Drazi horde, the formation leaving a trail of crippled ships behind it like a great beast dripping blood and slowly weakening. The missile attacks were smashing the ships in front, the fighters tearing up the flanks and rear, but at the core there were still a lot of intact Drazi warships, and only a full attack would finish them. The Drazi came for a stand up fight, now was the time to give it to them.

"Captain An'jash. Prepare to advance." She said quietly. "The whole line will move forward."

"Forward Warmaster?" the Captain repeated. "Straight into the Drazi attack?"

"Straight into the Drazi attack." She smiled. "As quickly as possible if you please."

An'jash would have preferred to hold position and fire until the last minute, but the Warmaster had a plan and seemed confident in its success, so she powered engines and sent the message fleetwide.

The Drazi units were almost in weapons range, their long charge had been costly but the survivors were now ready to dish out some punishment. The Dilgar fighters were still stripping away ships and causing the fleet to spread out and lose what little cohesion they had, and missiles were further hastening the demise of their comrades. But by now the Drazi were burning with rage and relished the chance to strike back. The Dilgar ships began moving, once again Jha'dur was not content to sit and let the Drazi decide when and where the fleets would meet. She moved in, the Dilgar fleet keeping its rigid but even formation which by now stretched out above and to either side of the thick Drazi group. The attackers could only fire a fraction of their guns, the large formation working against them and making the ships at its heart completely useless, while the Dilgar could engage with literally every ship in their formation. The Drazi had more guns, but the Dilgar could concentrate more firepower. If Jha'dur let the Drazi attack a stationary line they would break up and be able to spread out their ships into contact with hers, but if she struck them first before they were able to alter formation the Dilgar would have a tremendous advantage, and so she advanced and prepared to meet the Drazi at their own game.

The fleets clashed and instantly Dilgar ships began taking losses, the forces directly in front of the Drazi line were among the toughest in the Dilgar inventory but even so were fairly lightly built, a consequence of mass production. But for each Dilgar ship lost five Drazi ships paid for it, a carefully planned crossfire had been set up among the different wings of the fleet and the Drazi were caught in a web of firepower between individual ships, different Pentacans and entire battle squadrons all coordinated and timed to cause maximum destruction.

The Dilgar line bent as the centre came to a stop, taking the brunt of the attack. Under Jha'durs orders the flanking units began to wrap around the Drazi fleet, enveloping it on all sides and bringing heavy fire to all surfaces of the enemy fleet. Drazi ships were exploding everywhere, with the concentrated firepower of the strike fleet and the constant attentions of the Dilgar fighters there was nowhere left for them to go. Breakout attempts were met by carefully laid out killing zones between squadrons in the Dilgar line, the centre of the fleet was reinforced by reserves slowing the Drazi advace down to nothing as the wall of firepower proved impenetrable. Gradually the mass of ships shrunk and the Dilgar line constricted, surrounding the Drazi units and squeezing them down. Weapons fire fell from all sides, and despite destroying Dilgar ships the intensity of the attack never diminished and the Drazi just ran out of options. A final desperate charge crashed into the Dilgar lines aimed at the _Conqueror_ itself, the Dreadnoughts own guns intersecting with those of its escorts to slice up the attack, divide it and finally crush the enemy piece by piece. The last _Sunhawk_ fell to the _Conquerors_ main laser batteries, its armour offering scant defence to the warships firepower as it joined its comrades in death.

"Enemy fleet has been neutralised." Captain An'jash reported. "Our losses are running at fifteen percent."

"Excellent, truly excellent." Jha'dur beamed. The Utriel force had lost sixty percent of its forces, and Lenshar had lost about a third of his ships for no gain, fifteen percent spoke of a superb victory. "Send the sixth and seventh wings to recover our survivors and clean the battlefield of Drazi ships, take this ship and our escorts back to the colony."

The _Conqueror_ moved forward over the ruined battlefield gliding majestically past the broken hulks of the Drazi ships, its escorts blasting any wrecks which impeded its path. The Drazi had fought fanatically, but not skilfully. Jha'dur had read they were a warrior race, but not soldiers, the fought for individual glory which made them ferocious but totally uncoordinated and in those circumstances the highly disciplined Dilgar ships had exploited their lack of planning and lured them into a killing zone, a cauldron of warships and fire from which there was no escape. Jha'dur expected even a disciplined fleet surrounded like that would be doomed. Not that it mattered, Drazi resistance in this sector was gone, perhaps a third of their fleet or more lay destroyed at her hands and her moment of revenge was at hand. She savoured it.

She noted her smaller ships darting back and forth to rescue disabled Thorun fighters and offer aid to damaged vessels. Well trained pilots and crew members were a valuable commodity to be preserved where possible, and expended where necessary. Jha'dur had to walk a fine line between ruthlessness and sentimentality, being one or the other would make her a poor Warmaster but to balance the two, to look after her forces but not be so attached that she wouldn't risk them was her aim and the thing which set her above most other Warmasters.

While some units helped Dilgar crews, other ships cleansed the battlefield of Drazi vessels. The ships crippled but not finished by the fighter attacks lay strewn across space immobile and unable to defend themselves, fast moving frigates targeted and destroyed them effortlessly. It was standard policy not to leave enemies alive after a battle, they had no need of prisoners and felt no need to devote resources to looking after them. Their slave labour needs were met by the Balosians and any intelligence they needed could be gathered through other means. It was also a message, a warning that any who faced the Dilgar would be doomed to total destruction. Fear was as much a part of this campaign as other more tangible concerns.

"Our sensors show the Drazi bombed our landing zones." An'jash reported. "It is unlikely the Eighth Corps survived as a fighting unit."

"Any communication?" Jha'dur asked.

"None Warmaster."

She nodded, the sacrifice was made and it had not been in vain. Her people had been hurt, but not nearly so much as the Drazi, even Len'chars shameful retreat was eclipsed by the scale of the destruction visited on their enemies. With no friendly signals from the surface there was no call for a rescue operation, she would proceed straight on with the attack.

"Did the fleet land troops?"

"Confirmed, approximately two million Drazi soldiers are on the planet." An'jash said. "Rather excessive."

"They're reinforcements designed to prevent us landing a second force, which is fine by me. Consider them a primary target, along with major population centres."

"Their locations are locked in, awaiting the order to fire."

"It is given, deploy the weapons, wipe this planet clean of the Drazi taint."

For long Years Jha'dur had been tasked with developing biological weapons of mass destruction, in that time she had invented weapons of nightmarish potential, genetic creations which proved utterly deadly, compounds designed to melt through and dissolve clothing before releasing toxins to defeat respirators and chemical warfare suits, plagues which remained undetected unless exposed to certain radiation allowing them to be spread widely before activation and an array of other creations each more lethal than the last. But the one problem she had always faced was scale, the ability to produce enough agent to infect a whole planet at once. While her viruses were incurable and totally contagious they took time to spread, perhaps years to infect a planet and provide time for victims to be isolated and perhaps the plague contained. Her biggest headache had been synthesising enough to prevent this.

Ultimately she came to a new conclusion, instead of creating and growing her own unique plagues she instead searched the galaxy for existing diseases she could take, make a few simple tweaks to, and then deploy in vast quantities. She was still experimenting with different cocktails and combinations of agents, but the most promising was a human disease called Stafford's plague. She bought some samples from a disreputable trader and found it multiplied extremely fast under the right conditions and needed little modification. Best of all because humans were quite new on the galactic scene none of the other races had really studied human disease and therefore had absolutely no immunity to Stafford's plague. For those reasons Jha'dur had selected it for this operation.

The _Conqueror_ and its escorts began the bombardment, a constant rain of strategic missiles falling on major population centres and food and water supplies. It was a tactic she had formulated herself, anyone not directly infected in the first strike would be infected by eating contaminated food or drinking tainted water. It was a way to wipe out entire planets of life, quickly and cleanly, but was only one half of the Dilgar strategy. For every plague she invented she also created a cure, an immunisation that could be given to the Dilgar colonists and soldiers who would be expected to land and settle on these worlds after the conquest. She had to be careful that the diseases she unleashed did not kill the entire biosystem, just the obstacles to successful colonization. To her it was a challenge and a perfectly acceptable way to help her people. The concept of genocide didn't even cross her mind, it was simply cleansing an infestation.

"Bombardment pattern complete." An'jash said.

"Good, very good. That was faster than expected." Jha'dur complimented. "We will leave the recovery ships here to continue rescuing our damaged ships and to monitor the progress of the planetary cleansing, the remaining ships in the Strike fleet will deploy to Tithalis before Warmaster Len'char can gather his forces and go there himself." She smiled widely. "And then we welcome him with open arms, making sure the galaxy knows which fleet earned the victory."

"And which commander." An'jash said. "This day will make your name."

"It is a victory for all Dilgar." She dismissed. "My aim is to defeat our enemies and give our people eternal greatness, that starts today."

"Our fleet is ready Warmaster." The Captain said formally.

"Take us to Tithalis." She ordered. "We will establish a battleline in case the Drazi haven't had enough death today, and then cleanse the planet there in preparation for our settlers."

"Yes Ma'am." An'jash replied formally, Jha'dur detecting a hint of pride in her voice. She was glad of it, pride in her subordinates would make them fight harder and strive for victory, she always thought her fleet was the best, and now she knew it.

The ships formed up, leaving the slaughter behind them. It had been a great day for her personally and the Dilgar as a whole, it was hard to believe that it had been just twenty hours since the war started at Utriel, and it had already cost tens of millions of lives, enemy lives. She had seen what the future held for the Dilgar, and either way it would be born from the blood of billions, the only choice was whether the dead would be Dilgar or the enemies of the Dilgar, and for Jha'dur that didn't even need thinking about.

The fleet moved on her command, she led them away to another destination, another defenceless world, another act of unthinkable genocide. And every fibre of her being embraced and rejoiced in it.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

Tirrith Star System, League of Non Aligned worlds.

On the continent where the meeting was taking place the weather showed the first signs of summer, a dawn mist was slowly disapating in the rising dun and revealing a lush green scenery of hills, trees and rivers stretching far into the distance. It was an idyllic location, and whoever had chosen to put the Leagues meeting hall on this world had made an inspired choice. Tirrith itself was a minor power, somewhat under the thrall of their larger neighbours the Brakiri. The main advantage it had was to be centrally located between the major League races and as such was a natural hub of trade and transport, making it rather wealthy and precluding its need to expand and search for resources, it simply bought what it needed. The central location, and general disinterest in politically playing its neighbours, had been why this world became the meeting place of the League, its beauty was merely a grand bonus.

Ambassador Limak Brocat was the senior Brakiri representative to the League, and while he usually ignored most League meetings things had changed so much in just one day that he had changed his opinions. The emergency meeting had managed to draw every single member except the Abbai and the Drazi who's Ambassadors were indisposed but would take part over a video link. The meeting hall was full of Ambassadors, aides, reporters and guards, its wooden furniture and panelling looking almost black and shone in the sunlight beginning to stream in through the large glass roof above.

Brocat took his seat, he was acknowledged as the most powerful and influential representative present and rightly so, his skill at political manipulation was legendary and his keen sense of business ad made him very rich. He was a role model for all Brakiri and exuded pure confidence and calm, the true scale of the crisis facing the League had not yet sunk in.

"I call this meeting to order." He stated loudly. "In the absence of Ambassador Alikie," he nodded to the screen showing the Abbai female, "I will chair this session. Our main item for discussion is the Dilgar offensive against two of our members, I trust you have read the reports. I surrender the floor to Ambassador Alikie."

Brocat sat down, and with the rest of the League turned to face the image of the Abbai representative. She looked a paler shade of pink, the small crest on her head seemingly lilting to one side. Her eyes were the most notable feature and the biggest change, they were hollow and dark, lines of weariness surrounded them and dark patches and bags were gathered beneath them, it was the look of a person who had seen hell and knew that very soon it would be coming to claim her and all she knew and loved.

"Fellow League members, the time for debate is over." She said in a sighing voice, labouring to speak clearly and precisely. "We now know what the Dilgar want and that they will use the most brutal force to get it. Our colony at Utriel is gone, wiped clean of life and millions of Abbai are dead. Our world of Tirolus has also fallen without a fight, and now the Dilgar are using it to build up their forces and prepare for a further attack, there is no question what their target is. Our homeworld itself."

"What evidence do you have for this?" Ambassador Renod of the Markab asked.

"Evidence?" Alikie's jaw dropped. "The blood of my people is all the evidence we need!"

"Yes, the evidence you need." The Llort ambassador said. "But we require more."

Shala'dan of the Drazi growled, a low noise filling the rooms speakers as he spoke from the Abbai homeworld. "The Abbai are not alone, two Drazi worlds and countless warriors are also dead, swept clean by the ruthless enemy. This is not a raid, or some limited grab for territory, this is a full scale war! An invasion of the League!"

"We have predicted this for two years." Alikie added. "We saw the Dilgar aggression and chose to ignore it, worlds fell and we turned a blind eye. Now we are paying for our obstinance. We should have helped the Alacans, we should have united and we should have pushed back the Dilgar before they gathered such strength. Now it will be that much harder."

"The Dilgar seem to be a threat to you Ambassador, but we are confident the Abbai defences will hold." Brocat said calmly "And that the Drazi fleet will repel the invaders with its ferocity."

"Have you even heard a word I have said?" Alikie exclaimed. "The Dilgar will not be stopped by us alone, we must unite, create a combined fleet and counter attack!"

"A combined fleet?" Renod repeated shaking his head. "No, we will not send ships to fight the Dilgar."

"You have no choice!" Shala'dan yelled in frustration. "Don't you see that they will come for you? They will come for all of you!"

"They will if we attack them!" Renod said. "We have no quarrel with the Dilgar, and they have none with us. We will not get involved in a war which does not serve us."

"My world faces extermination!" Alikie said horrified. "And you do nothing to help? Does our League mean nothing?"

"Our mutual defence pact covers the Centauri, not the Dilgar." Renod pointed out. "We have no obligation under treaty."

"And what of your obligation as a living being?" she spat, weariness and anger mounting up within her. "You will sit by and let billions die?"

"Your orbital defences are the envy of us all." Renod retaliated. "A system you have kept for yourself despite our requests for technology sharing."

"Don't you dare!" Alikie gasped. "Don't you dare talk business when my world faces death."

"Ladies and gentlemen, lets keep this civil." Brocat chipped in. "The issue is our response to the Dilgar."

"Yes it is," Renod said. "So what is the Brakiri response, Ambassador?" he grinned ferally, putting Brocat on the spot.

"Personally, I'd like to help the Abbai and Drazi, I really would, but the Krona has decided that the Brakiri fleet will stay in its own borders."

A chorus of shouts broke out, besides the Drazi the Brakiri were considered the most powerful military in the League, without their help it was unlikely a fleet to match the Dilgar could be formed.

"We will offer medical aid and provide a safe haven for refugees, but cannot be expected to fight somebody else's war, no matter our personal feelings on the matter." Brocat sighed. "I'm sorry, but the Brakiri do not want this war, and we feel you can handle the Dilgar alone."

"Exactly!" Renod shouted. "You don't need our help, you just want to extend more influence over us!"

"That is ridiculous!" Shala'dan roared. "Don't you understand? We have to stop the Dilgar while we are still strong enough to face them evenly!"

"This is just lies!" The Llort representative snorted. "You are making the Dilgar seem stronger than they are just to frighten us into joining your stronger League where the Drazi and Abbai will dominate!"

"If I was in that room I would throttle you to death for that!" Shala'dan yelled in fury, his fists clenched tight.

"Of course!" Renod pointed. "The Drazi way of governance, through force! You will not dominate us!"

"Enough!" Alikie screamed. "Enough! Don't you see yourselves?" Her eyes seemed heavy with tears, it was just so soul destroying for her, it was the brink of Armageddon and the only people who could offer a chance at averting it were too busy arguing to help. "We are no League! It is small wonder the Dilgar attacked us, we are nothing! We will not help each other and will fall divided. This is our last chance, I beg you, do you hear me? I beg you to send help!"

The outburst had silenced the room, none of them were used to dealing with those sorts of emotion. Alikie recognized the importance of this moment, the whole League would be for nothing if they just walked away now, not only would it kill her world but they'd ultimately be killing themselves as well, the fall of the Abbai Matriarchy would open the door for the Dilgar to come in and roll up the League. If they did not see that then the war was already lost, and all of them were dead.

Renod rose to his feet, the Markab were one of the older races in the League, equal to the Abbai in their development and considered reasonably powerful. They were strongly religious and principled, and in battle were feared fighters as they attacked with the ferocity of true zealots. He looked Alikie straight in her tear filled eyes and responded.

"No."

Alikie didn't say a thing, what could she have said in reply to that? Her world was condemned.

Each of the other League members echoed Renod, each refusing to help, to get involved. Some justified their response saying the Abbai would be safe, that the Dilgar were satisfied with taking the colonies and wouldn't risk an assault on their home world. Some like Renod just refused and left, in the end leaving just Ambassador Brocat in the hall, the bustle of news reporters and shouted questions being hurled outside at the leaving diplomats being muffled by the heavy doors. He turned to face the two Ambassadors by video link.

"I am sorry it did not go better."

"How can we tell them to do the right thing when we ourselves ignored it for so long." Alikie whispered sadly. "We are in the same position as the Alacans, and now we know what it is like to be forsaken."

Brocat shook his head, "No, this is not over. I will do what I can to convince my government at least to help. I appreciate what the League is meant to be and what it can do for all of us, and even if the others do not see it I recognize the danger of the Dilgar."

"Where the Brakiri lead others may follow." Shala'dan said wearily, his heart didn't seem to truly believe it. They had stood at a crossroads and taken the wrong road. "If the three largest races are at war, it may be enough."

"They're scared." Alikie said. Softly.

"They are spineless." The Drazi growled.

"It doesn't matter." She said. "Our time is nearly done, the Dilgar fleet is minutes away from our home system, I must go now. Remember what happened today, and try to do something about it." Her image blanked out.

"And I too must go and do my part to protect this world." Shala'dan added solemnly. "We can do no more, it is now up to you to bring the League together and stop the Dilgar, we in the League are the only ones who can."

His image too disappeared, leaving Brocat alone. His predecessor as Ambassador had been rather paranoid about the power of the Drazi and Abbai, and that paranoia was now rife in the League, so much so that in reality they could no longer consider themselves an alliance, each had fallen into their own little corners unwilling to pool resources for a common good. If the Dilgar did come and if the Abbai fell, then in all honesty Brocat didn't think the Brakiri would stem the tide, and his world too would die.

The League had to unite, if not soon enough to save the Abbai then at least soon enough to save Brakir, his main worry now was keeping his home safe and he would pull every trick he knew to make that happen, the League must not fracture. This would be the work of his life, the whole purpose for his existence here, and he would not fail his people.

EarthDome, Geneva.

EIA Headquarters.

It was often hard to tell Director Carl Durban's mood, as a life long intelligence expert he guarded his emotions and thoughts as well as he did his facts and figures. The Stoic Australian never displayed anything that was not minutely calculated to benefit his point of view or aid in convincing a recalcitrant politician or agent, the man was the dictionary definition of 'in control.'

Today was different, today director Durban had thrown a whole pot of coffee out of a window and actually swore after ending a video call. His temper had slipped for the first time in anyone's memory and the whole building was debating what could have made him so furious as to fracture his icy shell, the prevailing theory was to do with the latest senate debate and the growing Dilgar situation. Even Morgan Clark heard about his bosses outburst, and when the call came through to report to Durban's office he knew what it would be about, Secretary of State Brogan had managed to get his way with the President.

The entire open plan floor of the office watched Clark exit the lift and walk across the office towards the directors enclosed room. His every step was watched and he felt himself being scrutinized by these agents with decades of field experience, weighing up this nobody researcher from the dark corners of the EIA. Acutely aware of the attention, he tapped on the wood effect doors.

"Come in." Durban answered to the noise. "And close the door behind you."

Clark entered quickly, shutting out the piercing eyes behind him. "You asked for me sir?"

Durban's office was spacious and well furnished with a set of leather couches assembled in a square at one end of the room, and his desk at the other end beneath a window with a view of Lake Geneva. Durban sat at the desk and gestured at the seat opposite him.

"Sit down Agent Clark, this is pretty important."

The young man pulled up a chair and kept a totally blank face trying to pretend he had no idea what this was about, he could feel a hint of sweat on his back and beneath his slightly receding hairline.

"Did I do something sir?"

"Not yet." Durban answered. "You're hear because of your expertise, of all my staff you seem to be the one who knows most about the Dilgar."

"Dilgar sir?" Clark raised an eyebrow. "Well I've studied the reports."

"The Senate is getting jumpy about this invasion going on in League space," Durban explained. "Seems certain elements in the Senate feel the Dilgar are a clear and present danger to Earth and our interests, and they think we need to do something about it."

"I see."

"Some want to help out the Abbai, some want to engage in a bit of sabre rattling, others are just plain nervous about the idea of an advanced and warlike race showing up on our doorstep."

Clark nodded, Brogan had done exactly what he had said he would, sowing doubts and playing to fears among the politicians.

"Now the President doesn't want any part of it, and for the record neither do I, this isn't our war and our position will be one of compassion and neutrality. Unfortunately this isn't enough for the Senate, they want hard facts and have pressured the President into sending a reconnaissance team into League space to check out what's going on."

"Understandable sir, Information is power."

Durban gave him an odd look, then went on. "Of course such a mission is risky, its not like we can just ask the Dilgar what they're intentions are is it?"

"No sir, it may require something less direct."

"So with your knowledge of the Dilgar, what do you recommend?"

This was the moment he had waited for. "Send a ship to the edge of the Abbai home system."

"A ship?" Durban repeated flatly, not giving away any guesses. "Why a ship, why not probes?"

"A ship can react," Clark issued his practiced response. "It can spot trends in battle and focus its intelligence gathering on the most critical areas. A human crew will get us a lot more than an automated system, plus they're easier to deploy and retrieve."

"And a lot more risk." Durban added. "If the Dilgar spot us we could lose one of our spy vessels, they aren't jump capable and totally unarmed."

Clark nodded. "I realise the dangers sir, but the possible rewards are…"

"…are enough to justify putting lives in jeopardy." Durban finished. "You think the risks worth it? That we can afford to lose resources if it means knowing Dilgar tactics?"

"I certainly do sir."

"Enough to bet your career on it." The Director leaned forward, fixing Clark with a hard gaze. "Or your life?"

Clark swallowed hard and met his stare. "I think its worth it." He summoned up, considering this a test of his nerve.

"Good, report to the space port in two hours, you can be aboard the ship that heads to the front."

Clark's expression froze on his face, it was a look of bewilderment like Director Durban was talking to him in Swahili.

"You are our expert after all." Durban continued. "The one who has studied the Dilgar, you're the perfect asset to this mission."

"You want me in space?" Clark finally managed to speak. "In a battle zone?"

"Well you won't get hard data on the Dilgar sitting in the basement will you?" Durban grinned. "Get your gear."

"But, I'm not a field agent, I'm…"

"You won't be in the field, you'll be on an unarmed ship in the middle of the most vicious battle in history according to our predictions, that's what you wanted isn't it?"

"Yes, but no, I mean…" Clark was flustered, he'd hoped for an increase in political prestige based on the data that came back, he didn't actually want to go on the mission and risk himself, just take credit for the idea. "What if something happens?"

"Like what?" Durban said smiling. "What could possibly happen? Oh yes, getting killed." The directors face hardened. "You would send others to almost certain death for your own ends, but you wouldn't risk it yourself?"

"Its not that, its just, well, I can't be so easily replaced." Clark stuttered. "My knowledge…"

"Is no more valuable then the lives of my people!" Durban suddenly exploded in rage. "This is EIA headquarters, do you really think we wouldn't know Brogan went to see you?"

He'd been caught red handed, frantically he worked through possible excuses. "That was personal, it had nothing…"

"Don't give me that crap." Durban snarled, his Australian accent thickening as his anger bored through. "I know why the Senate wants to send an expedition and who stirred them up. Brogan wants to score some political points and he is using you and me to do it! That arse is going to get my people killed on some damn fool mission just so he can be President in the next elections, and I guess he offered you a favour huh?"

"There wasn't any sort of deal, sir." Clark lied. "He just asked my opinions on the Dilgar."

"And you gave him exactly what he wanted, a way to stick our nose somewhere it doesn't belong, and probably get it cut off. You know the survivability of a mission like this? We can't run, we can't fight, we can't do anything except hope our ship isn't spotted, which ain't gonna happen! It's a suicide mission!"

Clark remained silent, he had been eager to send a reconnaissance mission but now that he was going to be part of it he sincerely didn't want to go. Let the Dilgar destroy the Abbai, and the League, and anyone else they wanted, let them run rampage, just so long as he was safe behind his borders far from the action he suddenly didn't care. Everything he'd done to date had been theory, totally safe for him but the decisions he made could lead to great danger for others, a fact he hadn't considered until now.

"Do you see what position you've put me in?" Durban snapped. "Its an executive order, we have to send an expedition now."

"I can talk to Brogan, maybe do something about it?" Clark offered.

"I think you've done enough for one lifetime Mr Clark." Durban glared. "Just thank whatever demon you sold your soul to that you're more valuable here than dead, I hate to say it but your knowledge of the Dilgar will prove useful to us."

"Yes sir, thank you sir, really thank you."

"You disgust me." The Director sneered. "And as long as I'm in this job I will make it my personal mission in life to make sure you are out of this agency, when the Dilgar crisis is over you better look for another job, something in the fast food market I think."

Clark nodded, he didn't care about the threat, or his future prospects. He'd aligned himself with Secretary Brogan and knew it would bring conflict with Director Durban, though not so soon. It had been a short sharp lesson in power politics, and a realisation like a slap to the face that he had almost no power and if Brogan lost his influence then his career which he had hoped so much for was over thanks to Durban. But all of that, all of it, paled into insignificance against the relief of not having to go into danger.

"Get out of here." Durban dismissed. "I have to find a way to get us out of this mess without killing a lot of our own people."

Clark stood, the Director not even looking at him twice, and left the room. Once more all eyes were on him as he shuffled quickly the the lift and returned shamefully to his darkened office. He felt humiliated and played, and now that the fear of being sent to his death had faded he grew angry and hateful towards the Director. He would stay close to Brogan and when the time came would be right there beside him using all his knowledge to get the Secretary into EarthDome as President. He was now an Enemy of Director Durban, and if that was the price of his progress then so be it, Brogan wanted Durban gone and from now on Clark was going to be happy to help.

Abbai home system

Fiercely hot plasma erupted out into space, a bright pillar of light that seared and melted anything in its path, which was thankfully just a few loose particles and atoms in the vacuum of space.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Toby yelled into the intercom. "Shut it down, quick!"

The plume lessened and died away, leaving a slight wisp of vapour.

"What the hell just happened?" Paul Calendar demanded angrily. "What are you doing to my ship?"

"One of the Plasma lines blew." Toby reported, checking the flight deck displays. "Must have been hit by enemy fire."

Paul pressed the intercom, he and Toby were on the flight deck monitoring repairs while Jors and Jenny were in EVA gear in the now unpressurized engine room trying to get the _Space Race_ working again. "Engine room, you okay down there?"

"No problem Captain." Jenny replied. "We were nowhere near the rupture."

"How's the ship, any damage?"

"No more than earlier." She answered, "But no less either. This is a real mess down here."

After the escape from Utriel they had made a quick survey of the ship and the damage it'd taken in the escape, it was amazing the thing hadn't exploded after the first hit. The Dilgar fighters had done a good job of crippling the old freighter and putting her back together was a job beyond any of them, even with Abbai spare parts it was just too much for them to do without a dedicate space dock, and right now every dock in Abbai space was refitting warships in preparation for the upcoming attack.

"Just get us mobile." Paul said. "We'll worry about the rest when we get somewhere safe."

T'Koth, their translator, was currently negotiating for extra spare parts, they'd already bought some very expensive items necessary for repairing the reactor and engines and T'Koth was trying to barter for some more equipment. With Dilgar ships on their way the price of supplies available on the open market had increased astronomically, a part which would have cost a few thousand credits was going for millions now as profiteers made their money out of desperate people trying to escape. Captain Cashik of the Abbai navy had liberated a few parts from the naval store yards in gratitude for Captain Calendars rescue of Abbai civilians, but there were still a few key components even she couldn't get.

Toby was leaning over the displays on his console, watching pressure gauges on one screen and sensor reports on another. It seemed that half the planet had one eye on the sky just waiting for the inevitable, waiting for the Dilgar. The Abbai had been strangely quiet, at least the ones he'd met when collecting supplies had been. They hadn't spoken much or seemed as if they were all there mentally, all distant and far away looking. He figured they probably had a lot to think about.

"When did you last get some sleep?" Paul asked quietly.

"Me?" Toby raised an eyebrow. "Dunno, about a thousand years ago."

"Does seem like a lots happened these last few days." Paul agreed. "The whole galaxy changed around us and we haven't had time to catch our breath and take it all in."

"Just too much chief." Toby sighed. "We watched an entire colony get wiped out, I mean we saw that as it happened, we were witnesses to a massacre, millions died right there in front of us. Its just not something I've ever even thought about before you know?"

"It isn't what I signed up for." Paul said. "See the galaxy, make a huge pile of money, maybe find someone cool to settle with, just the normal sort of things a guy would want."

"I get that, its kinda why I'm here too." Toby continued. "We had the money, we've been so many different places, and I think I'm getting quite fond of Jenny."

"Fond?" Paul chuckled. "You're 'Fond' of her? Oh yeah, that's looking pretty bad."

"Hey, she's a good girl." Toby reddened. "But what I meant was we were doing fine, just living our lives, and then all this happens."

"We've got no way to deal with this, it just isn't wired into the human mind to process things like that." Paul said calmly. "At least not normal humans. You read about wars and genocide in history, but it doesn't make it seem real."

"None of this seems real, and that's what worries me." Toby emphasized. "When they were bombing the colony it was just like a movie, as if it was all just a show and no one would really get hurt. I knew inside that people were dying, but I just couldn't connect, I didn't feel anything for them, and I still don't! what the hell does that make me?"

"Makes you totally normal." Paul said. "Its just too much, trust me it'll all come crashing down in pain and misery soon, but what you need to do is not dwell on it and get some rest. As soon as Jors gets the engines even half done we are out of here, I'm fed up of getting trapped in invasions."

"I hear that." Toby sighed, looking at his displays.

"But…" Paul prompted. "You're going to say 'but' aren't you?"

"But," Toby nodded. "I don't want to see the Abbai fight this alone, I feel we should be helping."

"I understand, but we can't. I mean really what could we do?"

"We can join their navy, the Abbai always want Mercenaries." Toby stated. "Or just go planetside with a gun and be ready to shoot the first Dilgar who lands."

"Except they aren't going to land, just kill everything from orbit." Paul said flatly. "And Toby, no offence man but you aren't a Mercenary. You can do a lot more good here with the crew."

"Hey yeah, you're right!" he brightened. "We could run rescue missions, save refugees!"

"Not what I meant." Paul said, a few days ago Toby had wanted nothing more than to save himself, now he was bordering on the heroic. The invasion was starting to do funny things to people. "We're going to run away as soon as we can."

"You've seen what the Abbai are facing, they can't do this alone."

"Well we won't make a difference." Paul said firmly. "Not alive and sure not dead."

"That's the sort of attitude that lets this stuff happen!" Toby said energetically. "If everyone just made it their business, if we all just took a stand, we could make a difference."

"Look, I don't like the Dilgar but we can't stop them, if we hang around we're dead. If we and everyone we know took a stand, we'd all be dead. We're freighter crews Toby, not the Special Ops brigade! We can't take on the Dilgar, only a real navy can do that, we just need to get home and make sure precautions are taken."

"What precautions?" Toby puzzled.

"You think these guys would have any problems bombing Earth?" Paul asked. "You saw their fleet and its power, we gotta tell Earth whats going on out here so they can be prepared if they come for us."

"Wait a minute, you think these guys would try to take us on?" gasped Toby

"They might, and we have to make sure our boys and girls in blue are ready to stop them."

"And maybe spread the word about what's going on here, the genocide?" Toby suggested. "Try and get people to help?"

Paul suspected Toby's wish to help was a way of compensating for the detachment he still felt. Paul was in the same boat, it was just too shocking to really understand, but when he'd seen Captain Cashik earlier to thank her for the help she had given, in that moment he had felt some connection to the enormity of the events through her. The Abbai could be extinct within days, it was a reality Cashik had to face, and one Paul sincerely hoped humanity could avoid.

"We'll do what we can." Paul nodded.

"And what if people just don't care or understand? What if we can't make them feel for the loss and the death going on here, what can we do then?"

Paul was saved from a difficult answer by the intercom crackling to life.

"Flightdeck, still awake?" asked Jors' unemotional voice.

"We're here, what's up?" Paul answered, glad for the distraction.

"I've re-routed power from the ruptured conduit, and I've fixed the Abbai supplied parts." Jors spoke clearly as he always did on technical issues. "Those Abbai regulators and conduits are much tougher than ours, we only have five rigged but coupled with our own surviving systems it should be enough. We can try a full power test anytime."

"Nice work, remind me to find a bonus for ya sometime." Paul grinned. "What about engines?"

There was a moment of silence. "Well that's our problem, we haven't got spares for the engines, at least none we can use. I've patched up what wasn't melted, fried or blown apart, but its still about a quarter of what we could have."

"Is it enough to navigate hyperspace?" Paul asked seriously, right now getting away was the only issue.

"I wouldn't recommend it, but yeah we can scrape through." Jors replied. "But the longer we wait the more I'll be able to shore them up, get us more thrust."

"T'Koth is trying to get some more parts. But it's a sellers market." Paul grunted, he was all for making money but charging refugees was something else.

"Hey Chief." Toby spoke up. "We might have a problem."

"Problem?" Paul frowned. "Wanna narrow that down a bit?"

"A Dilgar warship or twenty?"

"Ah, that kind of problem." Paul grimaced. "Well, guess that's the decision made for us, we're leaving right now."

"Hey Captain," Jenny spoke from the engine room. "I don't really want to be caught here in another attack, but engine problems aside it's a week long jump to Earth space, and we haven't refuelled yet. We got a couple of days tops left in the tanks."

"Didn't we buy a crap load of fuel?" Paul asked in angry confusion.

"Oh yeah." Toby nodded. "Paid for and everything, we just haven't filled up yet."

"Dammit." Paul cursed. "Well times up now people." He switched on the comms system. "T'Koth, you there?"

After a few moments the signal was picked up. "I hear you." He said in his well versed English. "The negotiations are going well, I can have the engine ducts by the end of the day."

"No time, haul ass back the _Race_, we gotta make tracks and fast."

"That bad?" the Narn asked.

"That bad." Paul confirmed. "Half an hour from now we're through that gate so get a move on." He ended the signal.

"Getting lots of comms traffic." Toby said. "Mostly military chatter, the Abbai are moving to intercept the scouts."

"Bit aggressive for them." Paul allowed. "Maybe they're learning."

"We still got fuel issues chief." Jenny said again. "Where do we go?"

"Tirrith." Paul said. "It's the next beacon on the network and a small out of the way place, no real value." They'd passed through once or twice, it wasn't anything the Dilgar would think twice about, they had bigger fish to fry.

"So we just turn our back on two hundred grands worth of fuel?" Jenny said, the annoyance in her voice clear on the intercom.

"There is a Dilgar scouting party in system people, times up." Paul stated firmly. "Now we are leaving, so buckle up and keep an eye on the reactor from down there, I'll pilot us out."

"I just wanna say this is a bad idea boss." Jenny stated.

"This whole thing is a bad idea." Paul sighed. "So lets just get out of here and worry about everything else later."

Paul was tired of last minute escapes, this time he hoped to be long gone by the time the Dilgar showed up, it seemed the entire planet shared his wish as streams of smaller ships began to make for the gate. The exodus had started, and the wrath would not be far behind.

_EAS Persephone_

Hyperspace, near the Altair beacon.

Garibaldi was well versed in keeping a straight face, he'd been in a lot of trouble in his time and only his ability to rigidly control his expression had gotten him out of the stockade. The infamous occasion when he had left the handbrake off a transport truck on Mars and the vehicle had rolled down a hill and crushed the Colonels car was still a matter of much debate, and no culprit had ever been found thanks to his excellent ability to bend the truth. Right now he was facing a test just as tough.

In his hand he held four Queens, and he was desperately trying to look miserable about it. Around the table his opponents in this game of poker were all looking equally unmoved, their own hands a mystery. On the table was a pot of seventy credits, the metal coins held to the magnetic surface of the table to prevent them floating away in the zero gravity quarters of the ship. Likewise each card had a thin metal strip sandwiched within it so it'd stick to the table when dealt and not reveal itself to the other players.

"I'm going to call." Said a gruff looking middle-aged crewman in oil stained overalls. The fact that there was still oil being used on this huge space cruiser had amused Garibaldi greatly.

"Not yet." Garibaldi said. "First, I'll raise twenty." He slid forward some credits. "You wanna see my cards, that's what it'll cost ya."

The four other players kept more or less plain faced, it was a big hike.

"No way, I'm out." Private Bugs dropped his cards.

"Me too." Agreed Private Turnbow, a gigantic dark skinned man from the United States who had the imaginative nickname of 'Large' and was well suited to it. He was new to the unit but had proven a good soldier on exercise and a holy terror in the few bar room brawls Red platoon had gotten into.

The crewman held his cards for a while, then shunted forward some money, as it did a pilot named Max who had been doing pretty well until a few hands ago.

"Alright." The man said. "Lets see 'em."

With a wide grin Garibaldi layed his cards down, watching the colour drain from his opponents faces. It was a sight to treasure. The crewman slung his cards down while the pilot winced and placed them neatly on the table.

"Well guys, this has been fun." Garibaldi said as he collected the winnings. "But I gotta visit the little boys room."

"Hey, you gotta give us a chance to win some of this stuff back!" the crewman said.

"I was thinking same time tomorrow?" Garibaldi suggested. "Not like I'm going anywhere." He smiled widely.

He unstrapped his restraints and began to propel himself towards his locker, gliding up to it and impacting with a thud. He was still getting used to how much energy he should put in his moves to get to where he wanted to be without breaking his wrists, ankles or nose, and expected the dedicated Earth force crewers found it pretty amusing. He dropped the winnings in his locker, smiled at the photograph of Michael and Sophia attached to the inside of its door, and then locked it shut.

Taking the whole room by complete surprise, an alarm suddenly blared out from the ships speakers.

"General quarters, general quarters." Commander Philips called on the ship wide comms system.

The room cleared in an instant, the ships crew moving with speed and grace down the Zero Gravity corridors using hand holds and guide ropes to pull themselves through the ship, with no up or down they were swarming along all four surfaces of the corridor and then sealing airtight doors behind them.

"How can you have an alert in hyperspace?" Bugs grumbled as he bounced on the roof of the quarters and fumbled for a hand hold.

"I dunno, but do you hear that rumbling?" Garibaldi pricked up his ears. "Jump engines powering up, I think we're heading for normal space soon."

"Come on Wasters!" the bellowing voice of Sergeant Sosobowski boomed in the harsh metal room. "Get to the armoury! Move it!"

Garibaldi was the first out, darting down the corridor to the armoury which was fortunately just a few compartments further along. Blue uniformed officers and grey overalled crewmen bustled past, sweeping to their stations throughout the vessel, most of the crew of a _Hyperion_ class cruiser like the _Persephone_ were concentrated forward with only a few teams in the well separated engine and power plant sections of the vessel towards the rear. The large ships were heavily automated but still required a few hundred crew to keep everything in order and to provide a little human insight in the world or targeting computers and circuitry.

He dropped through the armoured doors and entered the armoury, arriving through what would be the roof. Lieutenant Sanchez was already there donning his gear, the rows of weapons lockers were open and second squad were busy loading up. Garibaldi and the first squad moved to their corner of the room, slotted their feet into stirrups beside the lockers to hold themselves in place, then began to suit up for battle.

Each of the soldiers in red platoon were already wearing standard battle dress, a plain green overall which offered an impervious seal to Biological and Chemical agents while still being lightweight and comfortable enough for everyday wear. It didn't offer body temperature regulation and was no use in a vacuum, but served as a superb basic uniform for planet based forces.

On top of that Garibaldi strapped his body armour, for full assaults he had the option of wearing extensive protection across his limbs and torso, but generally most soldiers only wore the torso armour as they found the arm and leg armour limited mobility and tired them quicker. Looking similar to the flak vests of centuries ago EA body armour consisted of layered metal and ceramic plates designed to stop close range fire from assault rifles and PPGs, though continual fire from a PPG would eventually burn through. It was a fairly heavy piece of protection and badly affected their zero gravity mobility, but it was well worth it.

Next came the combat harness and webbing, usually it would have a dozen pouches and pockets attached containing items like rations, medical supplies, ammunition, cleaning and basic maintenance tools and even grenades, but on a ship most of thos items were unnecessary, Garibaldi checked to make sure he had a few spare energy caps for his rifle and the medical kit, and that was all. At this point he would have picked up his re-breather kit, a flat metal box worn on the back containing his oxygen recycling gear designed for weeks of continuous use and to allow a full kit bag to be worn over the top of it. However once again this kit was surplus to requirements, if the ship suffered a hull breach they wouldn't need to worry about suffocating, the explosive decompression would end their problems then and there.

The final piece of kit was the most expensive, the MkII tactical helmet system. It looked like the basic sort of helmet used by Earths militaries through the modern era, a basic round shape extending down to cover the neck and temples. An inch wide band ran around the helmet from ear to ear around its back, and it was this band that held the helmets secrets, miniaturized electronics and software including communication and small sensor packages which allowed the average Earth Force infantry man or woman to be completely aware of their surroundings. At the front of the bands where the ears were protected were two miniature sensor clusters including cameras and Infrared scanners designed to give visual data to the wearer when the helmets visor was lowered. The visor itself was recessed into the upper front of the helmet and could quickly slide down covering the face and in conjunction with the re-breather unit form an airtight seal as part of the soldiers NBC protection. It was made from the same armour as the helmet and vest and as such was completely opaque relying on the two cameras to project images to the wearer within. Like the rest of the gear it was rated to survive one or two rounds of point blank fire before failing.

During World War III the western allied nations had been able to deploy their highly sophisticated forces in large numbers for the first time, and it was from the experiences of that war that the victorious allies who went on to create the Earth Alliance realised the overwhelming advantage battlefield information gave to their forces. It was said the entire war was won by junior officers receiving real time data from satellites and hypersonic jets, and then using their initiative to rapidly exploit enemy weaknesses within minutes of recognising them from the data. Officers in the field had the same level of information as generals thanks to the company level datalinks across the western armies and in the vicious battles across Africa and India they would coordinate with each other with barely any input from headquarters and achieve rapid victories.

Years later Earth Force had remembered the concept and taken it to the next level by giving every single soldier the information he or she needed to understand where they were in the battle zone, what their role was and where they needed to be in the future. Each individual was trained to work on initiative, to gather the data and make calculated decisions based on it to gain victory. While command made the big decisions it was up to the soldiers in the field to find the best way to execute those orders, with junior officers sharing their information freely with their troops so they could see exactly what had to be done. Not only would the system help reduce casualties and increase enemy losses, but it was hoped that by trusting even the most junior private with this sort of tactical data that it would inspire higher confidence in the fighting men and women of the army and give them the sort of _esprit'de corps_ necessary for victory.

Besides the basic visual and IR trackers the helmet had advanced communications systems based on magnetic impulses, along with more traditional and longer ranged EM waves linking the soldier to his unit and intelligence assets such satellites and recon aircraft and starships. The helmet imagers could overlay a series of Heads up Displays informing the Soldier of his immediate surroundings, providing maps, locations of friendly or hostile units, and offering status displays of the rest of his unit, all of it voice activated. When attached to the sights of a weapon it also offered accurate ranging and targeting data for a variety of ordinance, from rifles and missiles to mortars and grenades.

Garibaldi's helmet, like the rest of the platoon's, was a plain green colour with no adornments showing they were brand new, just like the rest of the regiments gear. With his kit checked and strapped down Garibaldi unhooked his boots from the stirrup and kicked forward, gliding over to the weapons locker. He took a standard EF-749 PPG rifle, the basic weapon of the new Earth Force replacing the fearsome M-18 assault rifle, while it looked tiny and fragile it was build with the strongest alloys mankind had devised and could be used to beat down doors, and opponents, without fear of it breaking.

He flexed his arms and legs, made sure the helmet was secure, then assembled with the rest of first squad. They grabbed onto a guide rope trying to stay roughly upright and awaited their orders, the alarms still pounding the walls of the ship.

"Outstanding." Sanchez commented. "That was the fastest suit up I've seen. Now head to your guard points, keep in contact at all times and make sure you're hooked up to the ships internal scanners."

They quickly dispersed, and while not as graceful as the navy crewers they still got out into the corridors and dragged themselves to their destinations. The platoon split into four person teams and headed off in different directions to set up outside the entrance to an area of importance on the ship which boarders may try to attack like the bridge or engine room. Garibaldi, along with privates Bugs, Large and Tucker had been assigned to the forward fire control room deep in the armoured heart of the ship, and so with a few bumps and bruises they made their way along the now empty corridors of the _Persephone_.

"Jump engines ready." Commander Louise Philips reported. "we're in position."

Captain DeVierre nodded. "Initiate jump point, keep all batteries ready and primed."

There was a subtle pull of acceleration as the ship left hyperspace, exiting in a blue flurry of energy and depositing itself in the mundane darkness of normal space. The gun turrets on the heavy cruiser swung back and forth through space looking for trouble, but found only their expected rendezvous, a basic Earth force fleet tender sat in on the border waiting for them.

"Hmm, their actually on time." DeVierre grinned. "Stand down general quarters and return to cruising stations."

Across the bridge the targeting systems went onto standby and plasma cannons began to slowly power down. The crew on the bridge had been calm and focused, each carefully monitoring their little area of responsibility as the ship was on alert, now they relaxed and made a few comments and observations of how the ship had responded.

Captain DeVierre activated the ship wide intercom. "Crew of the _Persephone_, well done your response times were well within the set limits and battle stations were activated in less than three minutes. You have done us all proud."

Philips felt pleased at that, the _Persephone_ had earned a reputation as a competent ship and was a joy to serve on, to date only two crew members had ever requested a transfer since Captain DeVierre came aboard, and even then they were for family matters and the need to redeploy to a fixed base on Earth near relatives. He knew how to keep the crew happy but still professional, and it was that balance which made it an adventure to serve on this ship, not a boring chore.

"And well done to red platoon!" he beamed. "First starship deployment and you were ready just as fast as the Marines ever were, bravo." He laughed, the sound carrying through the ship. "It was a good alert, I always like to make sure we are at battle stations whenever we make the jump back to real space just in case there is something waiting to surprise us eh? Makes sure we surprise them!"

Some of the bridge crew chuckled along, his enthusiasm was infectious and always had been.

"We'll be taking on fuel and supplies, EVA teams report to the airlocks and begin replenishing tasks." He switched off the intercom. "Right, bring us along side the tender and come to a dead stop. Open up a channel, I want to express my astonishment that we weren't waiting here a day and a half like last time."

"Aye sir." Philips replied with a smile in her voice.

"So that's it? A drill?" Bugs grunted. "If I'd have know I wouldn't have rushed so much, my damn ass is killing me."

"Well if you use it to brake your fall…" Tucker grinned. "Most of us just use our legs."

"Knock it off guys." Garibaldi cut in. "It wasn't a drill, it was a precaution, and a smart one. Anyway we did okay so lets give ourselves a pat on the back and go back to cleaning these navy types out at poker."

"Sounds like a plan." Bugs suddenly cheered up.

They began to head back, slowly this time being careful not to bang themselves on the walls. Garibaldi was the last when a voice called to him.

"Hey Gropo!" A gruff male said. Garibaldi turned in mid flight and braced himself on the bulkhead, recognizing the crewman from the earlier poker game.

"Tom isn't it?" he asked. "We we're going to get the game going again, wanna try and win back some cash?"

"Hell yeah, but I gotta report for duty first."

"Later then?"

"Count on it, but me and the guys had a proposition for you." Tom pushed off from the doorway and game to the wall beside Garibaldi. "We've got to go EVA and set up a fuel transfer with one of our fleet tenders, it's a four man job but really we only need three."

"Guess that's the Force for ya." Garibaldi smiled.

"I don't think you follow me," Tom smiled showing old teeth stained with tobacco, a rare sight but still found throughout the colonies. "I heard you talking to your buddies about doing a space walk? There's no way you'd be authorised just to take a pleasure trip, but we've kinda got a spare place so…?"

"What, really?" Garibaldi's jaw dropped open, this was one of his life long dreams but had always been too expensive to try on the few days leave he had while in space.

"Yeah really!" Tom chuckled. "Ditch that army gear and head for bay four, we'll have a suit ready for ya, quick as you can."

Garibaldi rushed off heading back to the armoury, this was going to be a fantastic experience, he'd always found himself fascinated by the stars and in his childhood would often stand and stare between the New York skyline at the glittering points beyond. While adulthood had robbed him of most of his childhood dreams and wonder, that affinity for space had stayed, and now he had the opportunity to get as close as possible to it. He hadn't been this excited in years.

Balos, Dilgar orbital command post

She always enjoyed dressing in the full regalia of a Warmaster, the dark blue uniform with paler blue facings and red piping was decked out in gold braiding and heavy epaulettes. It was totally impractical in the strictest sense, and while on campaign she wore the standard dark blue duty uniform of the Navy, are the sealed suit of a scientist, but today was special and as she stood in the lobby outside the Command posts main chamber she had time to reflect on her reason for being here.

She had broken the Drazi frontline and given the regular Dilgar navy a foothold in their space. The Drazi had called in reserves and counter attacked but by the time they arrived the Dilgar were well entrenched and resisting fiercely. After a few failed attempts the Drazi had to concede the border worlds and pulled back to the next set of colonies. With so many ships lost at Latig they couldn't mass the sort of force needed to push back the invaders without stripping their homeworld defence fleet, something Jha'dur desperately wanted them to do so she could hit the weakened lines and introduce the planetary population to her latest creations.

At the same time the Abbai had retreated to their home system in confusion and sealed themselves up around their homeworld, not unlike burying their heads in the sand in her opinion. Soon the Dilgar fleets in the area would arrive and form a cordon around their homeworld, and then the great battle would begin that would see the species wiped from the face of the galaxy and their planet opened up for immediate colonization. While Utriel was unfit for habitation, Latig IV and Tithalis in Drazi space would soon be safe for the first prospectors to arrive, and the sooner populations were shifted off Omelos the better. The Council had decided aggressive colonization was the most effective way to consolidate their holdings, to put Dilgar populations on colonies still smoking from orbital strikes and begin the process of building up infrastructure on the basis of what had survived and putting in place a civilian militia to supplement the garrisons and free up combat troops for more aggressive operations.

Jha'durs own unit, the First Strike fleet, was preparing to redeploy to the next crisis point, the Abbai front, to support the attack on that location. They were rearming after the engagement at Latig and basking in their new found glory. Warmaster Len'char whom Jha'dur had rescued from destruction was nowhere to be seen, doubtless sulking about her new influence from this victory. It amused her to consider his shame, the fleet he had commanded had been given to somebody else and Len'char was no back on Omelos confined to a desk. It was a moment to treasure.

The doors on the far side of the lobby rumbled open as the second guest arrived. With a wide smile of genuine happiness Jha'dur recognized her brother and moved to greet him. His ship was shored up in a nearby dock undergoing extensive repairs and probably wouldn't be ready before the war ended. Fortunately Sha'dur himself was in better condition with a few stitches and injuries to his left arm, but nothing more serious.

"My sister," he beamed, embracing her with his good arm. "I am so glad to see you well."

"Same here." She stepped back and looked him in the eye proudly. "You have brought great honour to our family."

"Please," he said in embarrassment. "You know I don't like being the centre of attention, that was always your place. I'm happy just to do my job."

She laughed a little. "I remember your presentation ten years ago to the science council. You spoke well and they were fools to ignore you."

He looked stonily at the floor. "In everything I've ever done I've been ridiculed, the scientists laughed at me, the old Warmasters mocked me, even our peers mock me. What does it take to show I am as good as they are?"

"You have done that brother." She answered firmly. "You saved the attack on Utriel and kept the momentum of the invasion."

"But you destroyed a third of the Drazi fleet and two colonies in the same time!" Sha'dur pointed. "How can I compare to that?"

"Look at me." She said. "Look, this isn't a competition, this is about our people. Come on, don't worry about what I've done look at what you have achieved where others have failed."

"I was always in your shadow you know, at school, at university, even now. I will always be just 'Jha'durs brother' and not known in my own right."

"Don't talk like that." Jha'dur said plainly.

"I don't mind you know, it's not a bad thing being in your shadow, its safe. It's a place I can observe you at work and see how things should be, see how a role model acts. Habit of a lifetime." He smiled lopsidedly.

"Not any more." She smiled. "Now you make your own path and don't need to follow mine. You have proven yourself brother, and the whole galaxy saw it. Time to step into the light."

He hesitated. "What if I don't want to? What if I'm not ready for this new responsibility?"

"You are ready, believe me you are." She encouraged. "You stepped up at Utriel, you showed what you were made of, what I've always known about you. You are exceptional, you have courage like no one else I know and you will make a great and competent leader. Something we dearly need."

"Will you help me?"

"Haven't I always?" she replied. "I'm always here if you need me, you're all I have left in this life, the last of our family and the only thing which truly matters to me. I'll make sure you receive all your just rewards, I promise."

Sha'dur nodded, taking strength once more from his sister. Since their parents had died Jha'dur had taken a strong lead be necessity, Dilgar civilization had no concept of supporting the weak or disadvantaged, if you weren't strong and resourceful enough to cope with a crisis you had no place calling yourself Dilgar. Sha'dur was certain he would have failed and become a wretched beggar doomed to die a young death if Jha'dur had gone on by herself, but she had instead stayed with him even at great cost and trouble to herself and made sure they both had food and shelter. With help from their school teachers who recognized their potential they were placed at the Science academy and given a place to stay and food to eat in return for their work. But for those early years it was Jha'dur who had kept him alive, and he still felt like it was she who was the one keeping him going now into adulthood.

"Its always easier to hide away," she whispered. "But this is your destiny, do not turn your back on it."

He nodded. "Alright, I'm feeling ready."

"You mean you're terrified?" she raised an eybrow.

"Yes." He smiled weakly.

"You're about to become a Warmaster, the highest rank that can be bestowed without being the Supreme Warmaster himself. People give decades of service and never come within sight of such a title, but in your first battle you earned the right. What does that tell you?"

"That somebody really screwed up?"

"Well in a way, but that you made it right." She stood a bit taller. "You are a Warmaster of the Dilgar brother, Gar'shan is no fool, he wouldn't have given you the rank if he thought you weren't worthy."

A chime sounded in the lobby, drawing both their attentions.

"Alright, that's it. Nearly time." Jha'dur said. "It'll be a short ceremony, we have to be on the way to the front in an hour."

"I don't know if I can do this." Sha'dur shook his head. "Am I ready?"

"What have we just said?" She reminded him. "This is your time Brother, your moment. Seize it, relish it, remember all those who belittled you and held you down? Now is when you show them your true power. They are nothing now, but you are a Warmaster. Embrace it."

"Will you be there beside me?"

"As always." She nodded. "I am always watching out for you." She reached out and straightened his collar, then brushed some dust off his uniform. "Although by now I'd have thought you'd learn to dress yourself properly."

"Shut up!" he joked.

"There." She finished. "Father would be proud."

"Do you think so?" he asked.

"Of course, to see his two children both Warmasters? The youngest in history? Of course he would." She smiled knowingly. "Can you imagine his face if he walked through that door right now?" they both faced the entrance. "Can you guess his words? See his approval?"

"If he did he'd probably tell us to stop dressing up and go tidy our rooms" Sha'dur chuckled. "Even as Warmasters he would always be telling us what to do."

"And we would do it." She nodded solemnly. "He was a stern man, and a good man. He is always guarding us, as we must now guard our people. Think of him and think of our mother, we are here because of them and it is in their memory that we live."

"I understand." He replied.

The doors unlocked and slowly retracted revealing the hall lined with officers, Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan at the far end of the room resplendid in his ceremonial uniform.

"Go on." She urged. "I'm right behind you, and when has anything bad happened while I was watching your back?"

Heartened by the support Sha'dur buried his doubts, this was a new age for the Dilgar, one where they took their place in the galaxy and mirroring that he accepted that he too had a new place in things, and just like his people had embraced it he must do the same. Without further hesitation he marched into the hall and didn't look back.

Ssumssha, Abbai homeworld.

Four Abbai cruisers broke away from the home defences, a squadron of ten frigates joining them as they passed the mine field and entered open space. They moved swiftly towards the site of the Dilgar incursion and primed their weapons.

"Anymore incursions?" Captain Cashik asked quickly, keeping her eyes fixed on the sensor blips representing the Dilgar force.

"A few more." Deck officer Trinki reported, her head and legs still bound and bandaged from injuries taken at Utriel. Like the rest of the crew she had refused to leave the ship which, with a few patches was considered combat worthy again despite a series of holes in the hull. "Other units are moving to engage, our targets are the only ships in this sector."

A Dilgar cruiser of the _Ni'Tratha_ class was conducting a rapid survey of the defences, the ship was reasonably well armed but like most Dilgar vessels tended to break up rapidly when it came under sustained fire. It was escorted by a more formidable looking destroyer and a selection of fighters, but the forces the Abbai were sending to intercept should be enough. Abbai command had given the Drazi Ambassador Shala'dan a role in the defence and the old warrior had extolled the virtues of an aggressive defence, and part of that was destroying the Dilgar scouting parties so that valuable intelligence wasn't granted to their enemies.

"Entering range." Weapons officer Franir, a Brakiri hired for the job, reported. "Fighters moving our way."

"Detach our escorts, send the fighters to intercept and stay on the primary target." Cashik commanded, focusing solely on her mission to remove the enemy ships and not be distracted by the Dilgar counter moves.

The squadrons of Kotha fighters outnumbered the Dilgar Thoruns, and even the skill of the pilots wasn't going to earn victory against so many Abbai, but even so they attacked without reservation driving headlong into the Abbai formations and swinging around in a frantic dogfight. Their vicious tactics caught the Abbai pilots by surprise and caused them early loses, but rapidly they began exploiting their numerical advantage and surrounding the enemy, and within a minute the Dilgar had lost most of their fighters with the few survivors trying to do as much damage as possible before being destroyed.

"Picking up high frequency transmissions." Trinki said. "The Dilgar ships, might be sending data to their base."

"Jam them." Cashik said. "Time to firing range?"

"Twenty seconds, targeting systems ready, weapons armed." Franir stated. They could have fired from further away, but at longer ranges the lasers were less coherent and the time lag between firing and striking the target was greater making accuracy questionable.

The Dilgar were less concerned, opening fire with their bolter weapons, the orbs of energy flying wide past the Abbai task force.

"Make sure the assault units all fire at the same target." Cashik reminded them as she counted down twenty in her head. "No half measures, just destroy them."

They entered firing range, and in that instant each cruiser fired its primary weapons, laser cannons specially designed to bore through an enemy's hull. Of the eight beams six managed to hit the destroyer and carved through the light hull triggering secondary explosions inside. It died quickly sending glowing debris into the void.

"New target," Cashik rattled off, "go for the scout cruiser, fire when ready."

With the escorting destroyer removed so quickly the scout cruiser began to power up its jump engines, it was a very risky move so soon after jumping in but its Captain must have appreciated the trouble heading his way. While the jump engines charged the regular engines blazed into life operating far beyond specifications.

"He's running." Franir said.

"But not fast enough." Trinki added. "We've got him."

The cruiser couldn't accelerate fast enough and the Abbai force moved into range, punching through its hull with long range fire. A beam from the _Syonar_ caught its jump engines, the energy cracking open the Quantium 40 core and releasing its energy in one tremendous explosion which vaporised the ship in an instant, the explosion visible from the distant planet.

"Good hit Mr Franir." Cashik complemented. "If we could afford it there'd be a bonus in your contract."

"Just so long as we stop the Dilgar here, I'll be happy." He responded, his thoughts constantly dwelling on the possibility of a Dilgar attack on the Brakiri.

"We're been recalled." Trinki said. "And congratulated on a job well done."

Cashik acknowledged the signal, a few days ago she would have been disturbed at being applauded for killing two ships worth of living creatures, but after the loss of Utriel the Abbai mindset had shifted dramatically. While their beliefs remained the same they had been superceded by a stronger imperative, the need to survive. The idyllic Abbai homeworld hadn't offered many predators and the people had always lived in peace, the social need to protect themselves was fairly new and in the past they had been safe behind their defences. All that had now changed, and it was to Cashiks eternal relief that her people saw that and were also changing. The defence of their home system would be more active and aggressive than the actions at Utriel, with some Drazi advice and the cold knowledge of reality the Abbai were ready to face the Dilgar a second time. They would not be surprised twice.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

Abbai home system

"I'll be sorry to leave," Paul Calendar stated. "But I've got to think of my crew, I wish there was more we could do."

"Understood." A voice replied in the traditional female tones of the Abbai, Paul had been out here a year and only ever met a handful of males. "Tell your people what is happening here, make them understand."

"I'll try." Paul replied solemnly. "We'll give our stories to the networks, what's happened out here is terrifying, the galaxy needs to know the peril they are all in."

"Be safe," the traffic controller said. "We heard you risked yourselves at Utriel for some of our civilians, Captain Cashik told us the story."

Paul had never met the controller, had never even spoken to her before and yet she knew what they had done, it must be what TV stars felt when they experienced their fame for the first time. The difference for Paul being that he was known for surviving a horrific battle which if he had the choice he'd have been nowhere near. It struck him that if they hadn't have stayed for that one last job those two thousand refugees would still have been on Utriel and would be dead by now, he'd regretted that decision to stay because it cost him a fortune in repair bills and almost got them killed, but it had also saved a lot of lives and he finally started to recognize that maybe it had been the best thing to do and was ultimately worth it in the end.

"We were just in the right place at the wrong time." He answered. "It wasn't anything special."

"Captain Cashik has put you forward for the Abbai heart, the highest award of our people." The controller continued. "It is a true honour."

"Well, I mean, thanks." Paul stumbled on his words, he was just a freight hauler, how the hell did he end up an Abbai national hero? "It's kinda, well, surprising." He'd just wanted to get the hell out of there.

"It'll be here waiting for you and your crew." The officer replied. "We're starting the jump gate sequence, it'll be ready for your departure."

"Thanks, and good luck to you." Paul spoke evenly, but he was beginning to feel emotional about the whole thing. "We'll be back here one day."

"We'll be here waiting. Abbai control out."

For a full minute Paul said nothing, beside Toby was also quiet as the _Space Race_ left orbit and headed for the gate, its engines groaning but obeying. The whole ship stunk of adhesives and oil and some sections were still sealed off being open to space, but overall the ship was operational again. T'Koth had returned with the freighters cargo shuttle and a few spares he'd acquired but they would need a long stop off at Tirrith to make the journey back to Earth.

"So they're going to give us medals?" Toby finally said to start a conversation.

"Guess so." Paul said curtly, in no mood to talk. His face remained hardened as a mask on his turmoil within.

"So we'll have to come back this way, to collect them?"

Paul sighed in resignation. "I know you want to stay and help, but this isn't the time. Anyone who stays here is going to die."

"What? No way!" Toby protested. "They can't!"

"You've seen up close what the Dilgar are like, they're going to send a hell of a lot more ships here than they did at Utriel, the Abbai just can't win." It was a conclusion he'd come to almost as soon as they arrived but refused to accept until just a few hours ago. He liked the Abbai, he'd worked and lived with them this past year, made friends with them, helped them in their time of need, but the simple reality was if the Dilgar showed up here in force they would win, and the Abbai race would die.

"And that's it? We just leave?"

"Haven't you heard anything I've said?" Paul snapped. "We stay, we die. Period. This whole system is going to be a slaughterhouse and We aren't going to be in it."

"We leave them to die then?" Toby said angrily. "Is that the sort of people we are?"

"Damn straight we are!" Paul laughed, not a laugh of joy but one tinged with weariness and loathing. "We run, we hide, we stay the hell out of the firing line because we aren't heroes, no matter what medals they throw at us! We are here for the money, not to throw away our lives in a gesture! We're going home."

"We can't leave them just to die, not after helping them before!" Toby replied. "We aren't completely powerless here!"

"Wrong, that's exactly what we are!" Paul slammed his fist on the chair, surprising Toby. "We are completely powerless, there is absolutely nothing we can do to change this, not a damn thing!" He looked forward out of the window, the jump gate in view before them. "If I could wave a wand and make the Dilgar go away I would, and you know something even if it cost my life, if it meant saving that planet I'd do it in a heart beat. But it wouldn't, we can't do a damn thing and its burning me up to just walk away from this but we don't have a choice. You want to go and die with them out of sympathy? You know that's just plain stupid and I won't allow it."

"You wont allow it?" Toby scoffed. "What gives you the right to tell me when and where I'll die?"

"Because you're my crew, that's all." Paul said calmly. "I've got a responsibility as Captain to get this ship and everyone in it to safety, and that includes you."

Toby didn't answer straight away, the silence returning to hang heavy on the flight deck.

"I appreciate you looking out for us." Toby said. "But we can make our own decisions you know, I'd like to stay and help the Abbai."

"I know, but you're what? Twenty, twenty five? You've got a life time ahead of you and you deserve it. Its better this way, and if the Abbai will let us leave then we should just go, they won't need our deaths on their hands."

The _Space Race_ arrived at the gate, their sensors showing the system was charged and ready. Paul inputted his codes and the opening sequence began.

"Do you want to see Ssumssha one more time." Toby looked out of his side window at the distant world. "Might be the last time we ever see it."

Paul didn't look, he kept his eyes on the gate as it opened into a Vortex and drove the freighter through and into hyperspace, putting the Abbai and their fate to his back but unable to forget it, they set course for the Tirrith star system and headed away into the red mists of Hyperspace.

Abbai central command.

"Another freighter leaving." Alikie observed. "And I don't blame them."

"Its good for us." Shala'dan answered in his usual gruff Drazi tones. "Means less civilians in orbit to defend."

Central command was filled not only with row after row of military personel manning terminals, but also in the observation rooms most of the Abbai senior Government including the Natar herself, the leader of her people. Alikie thought it appropriate she was here, the actions taken in this room today would decide whether or not her people would continue to live in the galaxy or whether today would be their last.

"Our forces have been deployed." Shala'dan continued. "Two thirds over homeworld and the rest at the colony." The third planet had a substantial civilian colony and was as well defended as Utriel had been but with a much larger naval force in orbit. The homeworld itself on the fourth planet of the system had the lions share of the defences and the bulk of the Abbai population. Its orbital network of mines, platforms, stations and now warships formed a concentric series of ramparts from which the defenders could fight. At its heart was the fully operational _Pirocia_ type battlestation, the sister of Utriels unfinished command post. It was in stable orbit above the Abbai capitol city covering the government and military command centres, including the building Alikie was in right now. Central command, for all its sophistication, was neither armoured nor buried with only a hastily installed shield as its mode of defence, the original builders hadn't even contemplated the chance of a direct attack on it.

"Our probes showed virtually no Dilgar ships at Tirolus and Utriel." Alikie mentioned. "We believe every ship on this front is heading here."

"Probably." The Drazi agreed. "They'd concentrate all their power here if they can, and use their best commander. We spotted a ship leaving Balos for here, the same one was present leading their forces at both Latig and the second battle of Tithalis were my people took such heavy losses."

Alikie nodded sympathetically, the massive losses in those battles had shocked the Drazi and represented their worst defeat in history. "Do we know which Warmaster it is?"

"Not yet, but we have our suspicions, especially after witnessing the use of biological weapons."

Alikie knew that signature. "Warmaster Jha'dur, head of Dilgar bioweapons research and leader of the Alacan invasion."

"That's what we thought." Shala'dan agreed. "The Alacans told some lurid stories about her, those who survived."

"They called her 'Lady Death' I remember, thought it was a bit dramatic. Now I think its too little." Alikie frowned. "That woman is the most prolific killer in history now. After today she might even be able to add our species to her list of kills."

"That will not happen." Shala'dan replied firmly. "We have a robust defence designed to bleed the Dilgar dry before they ever reach orbit, this world will not fall."

A warning chime came from a console nearby. Its officer quickly spoke into her microphone announcing her words across the whole room.

"Jump points opening in sector forty."

A second chime sounded, and a moment later two more. Suddenly the whole chamber was ringing with noise and rapid reports as sensor stations lit up throughout the chamber.

"That's it then." Alikie said flatly. "It begins."

Dreadnought _Conqueror_, Dilgar 1st Strike fleet.

The combat units moves silently into position with no need for express orders. The whole unit was well briefed on the plans and formed up in a series of staggered lines designed to cover the maximum volume of space. Before them lay the two primary targets, the Homeworld and the Primary colony, both extremely well defended and heavily populated. When these two planets were reduced to lifeless structures it would open up the entire League to conquest and allow rapid Dilgar occupation of Ssumssha's major infrastructure.

"Fleets deploying as predicted." Captain An'jash, Jha'durs executive officer, reported calmly. The Dilgar had massed six line fleets and two strike fleets for this assault, over two fifths of their total strength and several thousand vessels in total, one of the greatest gatherings of force for millennia. With such a large force the arrivals were being staggered so a massive traffic jam didn't occur and each fleet was assigned a different area to gather in. somewhere out there with the third fleet was the newly promoted Warmaster Sha'dur, his new badges of rank still gleaming and with a scent of polish to them. He would be part of the attack on the homeworld itself, while Jha'dur would lead the two Strike fleets against the primary colony.

"Condition of the Abbai defences?" Jha'dur asked calmly.

"Extensive." An'jash replied. "Looks like most of their ships are in orbit of the two planets behind the defences, few thousand at most."

"Tied to the gravity wells." She nodded. "Good, we'll open up the attack on the colony immediately, see if we can draw some ships from the homeworld."

The Strike fleets began to move rapidly, they'd only been in system a few minutes and were already preparing to begin the battle. Speed and surprise were key elements in Jha'durs plans and this attack would be no different. Assaulting the fixed defences would be more challenging than removing the Drazi fleet, but Jha'dur had no intention of getting too close.

"Mass driver units, begin preparatory bombardment." She ordered. "Missile ships move into position and stand by. All other ships hold positions."

Central Command

"They don't waste time." Shala'dan grimaced. "They will hit the colony first, but do you see this units moving here?" he pointed to a fleet setting up between the orbit of the homeworld and the primary colony. "They're setting up to cut off any reinforcements we send."

"Or survivors fleeing." Alikie added sombrely. While she appreciated the lay out of the forces the actual strategy and tactics were an alien concept to her. She grasped why concentrating their defences was a good thing but the science of warfare eluded her, and in a way she was pleased.

"We cannot face them in the open, we need the support of the planetary defence grid to boost our firepower." The Drazi said. "We must not rise to their challenge, just hold our positions in orbit and meet them when they try and break through."

The Warrior inside Shala'dan was urging him to rush out and meet the Dilgar in battle, to take them head on in glorious combat and earn eternal fame for himself. But the General within urged caution, these were Abbai ships and crews, not Drazi ones, and the penalties of losing this battle were beyond imagining. He had to work to his strengths and try and balance out the weaknesses. This was going to be a long and frustrating battle, but he was resolved to help the Abbai to win it.

"We have incoming fire," an officer warned. "Mass drivers, firing on us and the colony."

"Target the defence grid and fire." He ordered. The Dilgar were starting small, the slow moving asteroid projectiles were devastating if they hit but tended to be easily destroyed or redirected by defensive fire. The initial salvoes were easily stopped.

"What are they doing?" Alikie asked.

"I think they want to test our defences." Shala'dan answered. "Maybe keep us distracted while they move all their pieces into place."

"You mean their ships and fleets?"

"Yes." He confirmed, having to remind himself the Abbai were not natural warriors and may not understand terms he considered simple. "I'd gues they're going to hit the colony first and then concentrate everything on us. They'll be expecting a simple victory and will use lessons learned from Utriel, see how they're deploying theis missile ships early to clear the way?"

"Not really." Alikie apologised. "I'm so sorry, its all beyond my understanding, I'm no use here!"

"Yes you are." The Drazi answered, " As this battle goes on I'll have to make some tough decisions and issue hard orders. Your people might not accept those orders from me, a Drazi, but if you are there then they must."

"What sort of orders?" She asked, not really wanting to know.

"Orders to fire despite their line of sight being blocked by civilian ships, to stay in formation when their comrades are dying all around, to protect their area of space and ignore the burning cities beneath them. To act like soldiers, and not Abbai beings."

"To become cold hearted killing machines." Alikie said flatly.

"Exactly. Because that's what it will take to save your people." Shala'dan said. "Prepare yourself Ambassador, nothing will be the same after this."

Dreadnought _Conqueror_

"Enough playing." Jha'dur stated. "Send in the missile ships, have the first wave follow them in. Lets get this done quickly."

The mass driver attacks had been intercepted and in so doing had revealed where the Abbai were concentrating their defences around the colony. Jha'dur now focused her attacks on one of the strongest locations aiming to destroy a majority of the defenders in one sudden strike. The missile ships popped open their bays and began firing a steady carpet of projectiles, each one with a massively powerful nuclear warhead, the Dilgar had no qualms about weapons of mass destruction. Abbai defences responded, the platforms and ships of the colony bringing down the missiles by the hundreds before they reached range but sheer numbers ensured the barrage was getting closer and closer.

Lines of Dilgar warships were moving in silently behind the strikes, the waves of missiles passing above them and distracting the planetary defences allowing the ships to enter firing range unscathed. Across the battlefield further Dilgar ships began their advance on the homeworld, using their numbers to press every inch of the Abbai defence and keep their forces busy and unable to shift strength.

"Ready the Plague missiles, our target is the primary city of the colony." Jha'dur ordered feeling the anticipation grow in her chest. "Set for maximum dispersion."

Abbai Command.

"Here they come." Shala'dan intoned. "Attacking as predicted, hoping to use brute force to overwhelm us."

"We are badly outnumbered." Alikie observed, seeing a defence platform vaporised in a multi megaton blast rendered as a simple wireframe model on a screen. Fifty people had died in that simple animation far above her, it was only with detachment that she remained in the room to see the battle unfold.

"True, but the Dilgar are overconfident, they haven't bothered doing a deep scan of our defences, otherwise they'd have spotted our little force multipliers."

"Our what?"

"Lets just say numbers aren't everything." The Drazi smiled a cold smile. "Surprise is not just a Dilgar tool."

Dilgar Strike Fleet.

"Leading elements in range of the defence platforms." An'jash said. "They're firing now."

The enhanced video images of the Dilgar destroyers gave Jha'dur a sense of invulnerability, like a superior being wielding the tools of Armageddon. She had realised at Latig that she had reached a place no other sentient being had occupied for a millinium, that she had both the means and the will to wipe out whole civilizations, that her strength had become so great nothing could no reasonably oppose her. It was a heady feeling, something that overrode the care and caution she had lived by in her earlier life, now she was a Warmaster and unstoppable.

The first rank of warships began to take hits, one or two fell away but most of the Abbai defences were engaging the missile strikes and unable to untangle themselves from that the platforms were sitting targets.

It was therefore a great surprise when the thirty ships in front disintegrated in a series of tremendous flashes of light, utterly engulfing the line and fading to show just empty space where the ships had been.

"Report! Now!" she demanded.

"Our fleet was hit by a nuclear strike originating from the satellite defences." An'jash said, and as she spoke the fleets moving on the homeworld also met a nuclear barrage.

"We were told the Abbai had no Nuclear weapons!" Jha'dur half yelled.

"Looks like we were told wrong Warmaster."

Jha'dur was ready to tear the head from Warmaster Len'char and his intelligence agents, the man wasn't worth the air he breathed, twice now he had cost the Dilgar heavily and sent thousands to an unnecessary grave in the cold dark of space. But she held herself in check, she forced down the rage and calmed her mind, letting cool logic flow over her hot passions and burgeoning ego. Her sense of importance had allowed her to attack without gathering her own intel, she had trusted others and not planned for this eventuality, it was totally unacceptable in a Warmaster.

"Regroup the lines," she said coldly. "deploy fighters on missile interception duty and continue the attack." They couldn't break off and try again later, speed was key to success and the Dilgar had a tightly scheduled battle plan. She had made a mistake, and now she needed to correct it.

"Continue the attack." She ordered flatly as a second wave of Abbai Nukes reduced more ships to dust. "Kill them all."

Earth Alliance ship _Persephone_, Altair sector

Engineers mate Tom Casserine gave Garibaldi's suit the tug test, making sure all its seals were air tight. The three men and one woman were inside the ships main personnel air lock on the port side waiting for the _Persephone_ to line up with the tender. As soon as it stopped the team would exit the ship and with maintbot help attach fuelling cables to their vessels main reactant tanks. The maintbots alone could probably have handled it, but Captain DeVierre preferred a bit of human control during the very delicate process.

"How you doing in there?" Tom asked Garibaldi.

"Good." He answered. "Real good."

"Nervous?"

Garibaldi shrugged. "A little I guess."

"Well its pretty overwhelming first time out." Tom explained. "The good news is we aren't moving and we're no where near a planet so you shouldn't experience motion sickness. Keep your boots locked, stay where I put you and don't move around. Just enjoy the view."

He checked Garibaldi's neck seals, then gave him a bang on the side of the helmet. "Okay soldier, you're good to go, no last minute doubts?"

"Are you kidding, I've been waiting twenty years for this!" he smiled, the excitement overcoming nerves. "I'm ready."

Tom stepped back and activated his suits main comms system. "Team leader to flight control, we're all suited up and ready to go."

"Understood." Garibaldi recognized Commander Philips accent. "Begin decompression, space doors at your control. Enjoy the stroll."

Garibaldi fought to keep his breathing steady, not through fear anymore but from pure anticipation. He was really looking forward to this, certainly more than anything in recent memory, it made the whole troublesome deployment worth it.

Tom pressed some wall mounted controls, and the audio gear on Garibaldi's suit patched through the sound of air being released through valves into space. The high whistling rush lasted a few seconds, and then total silence followed. Toms hand ran over the controls again, and this time there was a slight shudder in the deck which Garibaldi felt through the magnetic boots. The thick armoured door slid outwards on massive pistons, and then when it was clear swung outwards on its revealed hinges opening up onto the vast gulf of darkness.

"Ready to take one small step for Gropo kind?" Tom chuckled. "Come on, stay close."

The airlock was located away from the main habitable areas so the relatively thin doors didn't compromise the ships main armoured structure. The bay was part of the hangar complex embedded in one of the booms, and the primary reactant tanks were set up in the large block like structure separating the hangar and front of the ship from the engines. With most of the ships fuel and engines held well away from its habitable areas it was hoped any accidents or explosions there would not harm the main habitable section at the front of the ship, which explained the oddly disjointed look of the _Hyperion_ class ships.

Garibaldi came to the edge of the doorway, there was a ledge beyond and a steep slope leading up to the fuelling station. He looked outwards and saw the tender, maintbots already drawing out a long refuelling hose ready to transfer the ships raw supplies. He didn't quite know why, the _Persephone_ hadn't been on patrol for very long and he guessed her tanks were still pretty full, but the Navy was always weird when it came to their ships.

"Here, don't forget your life line." Tom advised, taking a cord attached to Garibaldi's waist and attaching it to a wire running from the door up to the fuelling point. "Just in case you lose your balance, keeps you from boldly going." He winked.

The team set off with Garibaldi following, it was a deceptively long walk to the fuelling point and made Garibaldi appreciate the guys and girls who did this for a living. He was used to being fully enclosed in his combat gear, but these pressure suits were even worse, both uncomfortable and not very mobile. However right now Garibaldi didn't care. He walked up to the service section and stood beside one of the ships huge plasma cannons, catching his breath while the rest of the team headed for a few well enclosed consoles.

"Okay soldier, we've gotta work now, you gonna be alright here?" Tom checked on his short range radio.

"No problem." Garibaldi smiled, giving a thumbs up signal. "You take your time, I'll be fine here."

Tom nodded, then went to join the team opening up the fuel hatches and preparing to attach the cables. Garibaldi watched for a while, then diverted his attention out into space. It stole his breath, the sight was just so infinite it put him right back in an eight year olds mind again looking up from his fathers backyard. All the years in between faded and he was able to feel that same childlike wonder and innocence he thought was long lost in the trials of adulthood, if he'd have been a religious man he'd have considered it a deeply spiritual event.

He laughed in pure joy and felt like his mind was singing, he was totally alone even with the team less than a hundred yards away and the few hundred ships crew a few hundred yards beyond that inside their sealed quarters and corridors, they didn't feel what he felt now and it was like some secret elixir only he had the formula to, a way to be young and joyous again just like magic.

There was a stunning purple nebula visible in the far distance on the ships left hand side, while on the right his view would be obscured by the refuelling ship. He set off walking slowly across the hull, moving away from the busy team and heading for the far side of the ship to get a far clearer view of the spectacle. He made it to the edge of the hull, glancing behind him to see the rest of the EVA team working in the distance. Now he really did feel isolated, something very rare in his life. He had always been surrounded by family or friends or his squad mates and it seemed rarely had much time just to be alone with his thoughts.

Movement caught his eye, something in space between the _Persephone_ and the nebula. He focused on the area and squinted, trying to see if there was some sort of object out there, perhaps an asteroid or dust cloud, perhaps even a ship. As he concentrated he did begin to see something very far away, a tiny moving speck which to his untrained eye seemed to be getting closer.

"Hey, Tom." He said on the helmet speaker. "There's something weird out here."

"Bit busy now soldier." The technician replied.

"I think it's a ship." Garibaldi continued, keeping a watch on the object.

"Well if it is I'm sure the Captain knows, if its close enough to see the sensors will have caught it ages ago."

Garibaldi wasn't too sure, it was hard to guess but it didn't look like a human ship. He glanced over his shoulder at the nearby plasma cannon, it was still unmoving and cold, not swinging around to target the incoming ship so he guessed that all was well. He turned back and nearly had a heart attack.

He was face to face with something he couldn't even start to explain, his eyes grew wide and it felt like his heart had just frozen in his chest. It was a man, seemingly a human but bathed in light and floating mere feet in front of him. It examined him curiously, it had robes and a cloak which fluttered as if in a breeze, Garibaldi's mind was working through that conundrum when it absently noticed the figure wasn't actually wearing a space suit, it just hung serenely like it had just stepped out of a garden.

Garibaldi tried to speak, a few croaking wheezes the only product. In pure disbelief he realised that the figure wasn't wearing a cloak, but they wer in fact luminous wings. It was just too much information for him to accept, he forgot about trying to contact the rest of the team and settled for just gaping at the figure. It gave him one more look, then shot backwards like a particle bolt, the bright being shrinking into the distance and for the ship. He tried to talk again, but without much success. The ship had come closer, still too far to really identify but he could now make out some of its features, to Garibaldi it looked like a deep sea creature of mottled green. The illuminated being reached the vessel and entered, or perhaps merged with the hull, and with startling acceleration pulled away towards the nebula.

"Tom…" Garibaldi eventually managed. "TOM!"

"Look soldier, we're in the middle of…"

"I just saw something!" he spluttered. "Holy crap it was amazing! I tell you it was an Angel!"

"You saw an angel?" the technician said, scepticism heavy in his voice.

"Damn straight, all glowing and no space suit. It was incredible!"

"Yeah, so where'd it go?"

"Well it merged with the giant space squid and now I can't see it." He informed the other man. After a heart beat he frowned. "Hang on, that didn't sound right."

"Relax." Tom chuckled. "You probably got your Oxygen mix a bit funny, your not the first guy to see things out here."

"Other guys have seen angels?" he asked.

"Angels, Demons, a chorus line of dancing girls. You'd be surprised." Tom stated. "Now head over here, let me check your air balance."

"I'm not making this up, I just had a close encounter man!"

"Maybe, but remember you ain't supposed to be out here so don't go shooting your mouth off when we get back." Tom warned. "Its just an hallucination, trust me on this there isn't anything out here like that."

"I saw something, I know I did." Garibaldi stated firmly.

"Just get over here, we're nearly done." Tom said. "Say, you didn't sneak a crate of booze onboard did you? Because it'd explain a lot!"

"Yeah fine, laugh all you want." Garibaldi said in answer to the crewman's amusement. "But it happened."

"Time to go inside." Tom said by way of an answer, still apparently amused. "At least your first spacewalk was memorable!"

Garibaldi had to agree with that, there was no way he would ever forget this. He knew it wasn't a mirage or a trick of his mind, it was a creature out here of some type, a hidden wonder of the universe which had revealed itself to him for some purpose. His mind was full of questions, the same questions he had as an eight year old, what was out there in the stars? What wonders lay in space waiting to be found? What new and amazing types of life were out there? He'd thought he'd found all the answers to those questions, but now realised he hadn't even touched the surface. The galaxy just got a hell of a lot bigger.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 12

Abbai home system.

2nd day of the attack.

The third wave of ships bogged down in the face of intense fire, they fought well but the simple weight of fire destroyed them faster than reinforcements could advance, leaving them just a few miles closer to the Abbai home than the second wave.

"At least they got closer than the previous attack." Captain An'jash noted.

"Yes, at this rate we'll only need four hundred thousand ships to take the planet." Jha'dur sneered, both the attack on the homeworld and the nearby colony had faltered and dragged into a sort of siege. The Abbai couldn't force the Dilgar back but neither could the Dilgar breach the defences. While many Warmasters were happy to just sit there and trade long range fire, the majority including Jha'dur realised something needed doing, the siege required too many ships and was stalling their strike into the League, it had to end quickly.

"Fleet command is ordering a new strike." An'jash said. "A joint attack by four separate fleets."

"Coordinating that will be interesting." Jha'dur sighed. "Which fleet will lead?"

An'jash swallowed, she didn't want to pass on this nugget of information.

"I asked a question Captain." Jha'dur repeated.

"The third fleet Warmaster. Lead by your brother."

Her reaction was totally unexpected. "Very well." She said calmly. "Monitor the progress and be ready to exploit any opportunities, keep our ships powered and at combat station."

"Yes Warmaster." An'jash said. She was relieved that she had not been the focus of her commanders temper, but also a little confused as to why her previously impassioned superior seemed so cold.

In truth Jha'dur was deeply scared, the planetary defences had killed anyone who got even moderately close and she knew her brother always lead from the front, it was a stupid thing for him to do but he laboured under the idea a Warmaster should be heroic, when in truth the most important thing was for them to hang back and be able to direct the overall battle. It also ensured he'd survive to command the next one. Unfortunately she was powerless to do anything, she couldn't order him to stay back and she couldn't add forces to ensure his safety. It all came down to luck and fate, two things which had been cruel to her family in the past.

She focused intensely on the battle, her knuckles white with the strain of grabbing her chair arms. She betrayed no emotion, she was a Warmaster and she would not allow her fears to consume her. Her brother's fleet began to array for battle, and the orbital defences shifted.

Dilgar Dreadnought _Overlord_

These ships were a credit to their race and made Sha'dur proud to be a Dilgar. The previous attacks had failed, but not one ship had retreated, they had attacked and fought to the last earning themselves undying glory, and now with their debris still cooling he would lead a greater attack, the attack that finally broke the Abbai.

"Divisions signalling ready Warmaster." Captain Evenil said. Since her performance at Utriel Sha'dur had made sure she remained by his side as commander of his personal dreadnought, he trusted her to fight the ship while he handled the battle in general. "Leading fleet assets assembled, the other forces will follow us in."

Sha'dur nodded, he stood in the direct centre of the bridge and savoured the moment. The military wasn't the career he would have chosen in his youth, and the path that lead him here was twisted and confused, but it was in this moment that he realised that this was right, that everything that had happened to him happened because he needed to be here, now, leading this attack which would earn his people a great victory. He was where he was born to be at the moment he was meant to be there, in a moment of perfect clarity his life finally gathered meaning. He knew why his sister had ended up where she was, and why Len'char and Gar'shan had, but his own reason for existing had constantly concerned him, a concern now lifted from him like a great weight.

"This is Warmaster Sha'dur to the fleet." He began, his voice carrying over the communications channels to the fleets. "We are preparing to assault into the teeth of the enemy defences once again, a defence which has claimed the lives of many of our friends and comrades. We will not hesitate to attack the same weapons which killed them, we will not pause to consider the danger, we will not allow their sacrifice to be in vain. I am young and new to my role, as are many of you. This is a fleet of young men and young women fresh from training, none of us are hardened veterans or famous soldiers, but we have inside us that same spirit, that same strength which drove the heroes of the past to greatness. Many judge us on our age, after today they will judge us on the numbers of enemy dead piled at our feet."

He had a remarkably instrument in his possession, a warfleet of the Dilgar Imperium, as subtle as a whisper, as precise as a scalpel and as powerful as a plasma cannon. It could perform so many roles in so many ways, it was a living beast with bones of metal and claws of flame, but it was the crews manning the ships of its core that made the real difference, that made this fleet better than the fleet waiting on the other side of the Abbai guns. They were the soul of the fleet, and they were fortified with a determination to prove their worth, just like their commander.

"This is our hour, our moment. We must not fail, we must not dishonour our people, we must fight and not give way. Show them what it means to be a Dilgar."

He ended the transmission, every fibre in his body straining like a sprinter on the blocks, a video image of the planet Ssumssha ahead of him, the lush coloured world a future home of his people and the salvation of his race. It was a strange mood bordering on frenzy, he knew it was adrenalin rushing through his system just like at Utriel but somehow different, this time he was in complete control and the consequences of this battle would be far more deeply felt. This was the first major obstacle to the invasion, many had failed to crush the defences, but he would not.

"They think they know what we're capable of." He said, perhaps to Evenil, perhaps just to himself. "After Utriel they think they know the depth of our resolve and our power. They know nothing."

Today would be something truly memorable. Today a civilization died.

"First wave, all ahead flank. Fighters deploy to intercept missiles and frigates sweep on the flanks." Sha'dur did not return to his chair, he remained standing proud in the centre of the bridge. "May generations remember us; Commence the attack."

Abbai central command.

"Movement." A controller said from her station, immediately the control rooms main display showed a tactical image of local space. The planet Ssumssha dominated the screen, a thin line of blue surrounding it representing the defence network. At the other end of the screen was a solid block of red, a huge massing of Dilgar vessels beginning their drive once again towards the planet.

"Estimated numbers?" Shala'dan barked, the graphics alone were disturbing enough but he needed details.

"Over five thousand ships General." The controller replied a little awestruck. "It's a number of fleets grouped together."

This was the biggest attack yet, and looking at the ships queuing up to get a chance to attack it looked like the Dilgar were counting on this being the hammer blow that would shatter the defences, and it might do just that. The Abbai had expended most of their heavy weapons in previous attacks, the Brakiri and Drazi built nuclear weapons were running low and the minefields thinning while the Dilgar still had apparently plentiful warships.

"Alert the ready forces, have our ships ready to plug any gaps in the lines." He ordered. "Orbital defences lock on and fire the instant they reach range."

The control room ran with silent energy as the operators activated their particular area of sky. The Dilgar were hitting the same place over and over, gradually wearing down the defences there through attrition and sacrifice. The satellite weapons whirred into life once more, adjusting slightly to bring their weapons to bear and beginning their active sequence. Warships gathered just beyond the curve of the planet ready to dash forward if the need arose while the few ground based missile batteries opened their silo doors and prepared. They were out of tricks and traps by now, the only thing they had to rely on was courage, a trait many believed the Abbai lacked. Today would finally answer that question.

Heavy Cruiser _Syontar_

Captain Cashik felt the acceleration as her ship moved into its assigned station, a significant number of fellow warships moving with them. Across the lines small pockets of cruisers were gathering and joining forces, leaving unaffected sectors to bring their weapons to bear on the expected assault, a vast river of Dilgar warships gradually closing on them.

"All stations, battle report." She asked formerly.

"Weapons station ready." Franir announced.

"Sensors ready."

"Engines ready."

"Defences ready."

"Communications ready."

Officer Trinki stepped up to the Captain. "All sections report ready, the ship and crew are prepared to serve our people."

Cashik nodded, accepting the report. The Abbai security fleets weren't a true navy but they still had their traditions and Cashik recognized that observing this formal preparation was a way of setting the crews minds on their task at hand and prevent them getting lost or scared trying to grasp the full scale of what was heading their way.

"Very well, assume combat positions." Cashik fastened her restraints, the other crew following her actions. "Raise shields, activate weapons and await our orders."

"We're not moving to the front?" Franir asked in puzzlement.

"No, mobile forces are being held out of the firing line to minimise our losses in the bombardment." Cashik explained. "We move in when the Dilgar reach the main defences and have to stop using nukes."

The ship cut its engines and settled into position with the rest of its group, fighters moved up from bases on the planet to assume covering positions and stood station beside the heavier vessels. The Abbai had less than a thousand ships ready to fight and even with the concentric defences the odds were still very poor. Cashik did not know if they would win, but she was prepared to meet her fate doing the best she could to fulfil her duty.

"Enemy ships have entered effective firing range." Trinki said. "It's starting."

A great plume of white smoke rushed up into the Ssumssha sky, funnelled up by the underground silo. The flat metal covering had been masked in shrubs and undergrowth and had slid back to reveal the hidden weapon stored beneath. The Abbai had relatively scarce amounts of Fissile material in their home system meaning they had never really built Nuclear weapons, and as dedicated pacifists they saw no loss there. However as the Dilgar threat grew the government recognized that despite their beliefs these terrible weapons could make all the difference in defending their world, so they secretly bought large numbers of the devices from the Drazi and Brakiri and installed them in hidden bunkers and orbital bases as a weapon of final desperation.

The missile rose on its pillar of fire, slowly at first as it overcame gravity pushing up from the earth and clearing the thick forest it had been hidden in, burning nearby trees and stripping away leaves. It joined nine other weapons from the same facility and hundreds more launching across the hemisphere towards space. The great white columns were visible from the capital, they were a sight no Abbai wished to see and their distaste for the weapons was tempered by gratitude for the service they provided. Every weapon launched changed Abbai civilization, but crucial it also saved and preserved it too. It was a hard balance to accept, but they had no choice.

In the same instant Abbai missiles began launching spaceward Dilgar missiles began falling planetward. The blocky _Athraskala_ class missile ships slowly expending their magazines in a massive saturation strike of nuclear tipped missiles. Usually such a massive strike would be wasteful, but against the formidable Abbai defences the Warmasters knew most of the weapons would be destroyed. However they would keep the defences occupied while the fleet closed, a tactic they had used before with reasonable success. Fighter wings raced to the front of the advancing fleets to intercept the Abbai missiles and strike the defence platforms in order to keep the main fleet as intact as possible.

The two volleys of missiles passed each other in the dead space between the two battlelines, for a few moments all eyes on all sides were focused on that same patch of space. Then the firing began, Dilgar Thorun fighters began picking off incoming Abbai weapons while the defence network surrounding Ssumssha fired on its own targets. The spectacular display hid its true nature in garish beauty, the Abbai could not afford to let one missile past the defences and were forced to put every gun to the massive strike, each weapon holding the potential to kill tens of thousands of civilians on the planet below.

The Dilgar ships were getting closer and constantly accelerating, they were still held in their battlelines keeping in good order and maximising their defensive fire. The few missiles that got through the fighter screen were quickly disposed of by the interlocking weapons arcs of the fleets formation without even slowing the advance.

"We're reading satellites and fighters blocking our way." Captain Evenil stated.

"No warships?" Frowned Sha'dur.

"No Warmaster, they seem to be kept back."

Sha'dur chuckled coldly. "Perfect, this is our chance to overwhelm their defences, just as I planned."

"Shall I release our ships?"

"No, not yet, hold formation." He ordered. "Keep us in line until the last possible moment."

The larger Abbai guns began firing now, ship killing laser weapons began to chew into the Dilgar lines bringing down the first casualties, their mangled wrecks spinning away as the still accelerating force passed them, the following ships adjusting their course to avoid the debris.

"Return fire, but hold formation." Sha'dur said, his own ship in the centre of the attacking group and well within range of the Abbai forces.

One of the Abbai missiles broke through, reducing three closely arrayed ships to unrecognisable tangles of metal. Two more vessels fell to laser fire and a third struck a hidden mine. Holes began appearing in the front lines much as they had during previous assaults as the Dilgar line started to wear thin.

"Close up the gaps!" Sha'dur ordered. "Keep a solid front!"

Vessels moved up from the second wave to replace damaged or destroyed ships at the front, they were still far from the defences and were taking heavier and heavier losses. As the range decreased so too did the time available to intercept Abbai missile volleys, and as more missiles reached the lines and exploded the battle groups kept on thinning and losing their cohesion.

"Hold them together!" the Warmaster demanded. "We must concentrate our forces! Hold them!"

Explosions sparked on both sides, the gap between them quickly shrinking. Sha'durs line had gotten closer than the first two attacks but was losing its momentum in the face of fierce resistance, and while Abbai satellites were shot down or immolated the volume of fire was still high enough to tear up the attackers. A fighter duel had begun to grow as Dilgar pilots sought to destroy the thinly armoured defence satellites themselves bringing them into conflict with the Abbai squadrons assigned to defence. While the Thorun fighter was superior to the Abbai Kotha, the pilots fought with such fierce determination that the Dilgar squadrons were stopped dead in their tracks and were forced into intense dogfights with the Abbai craft, keeping them from interfering with the satellites.

"Send in more ships, more ships!" Sha'dur shouted in growing frustration. "This attack cannot stall!"

The Abbai were throwing in every weapon they had in range, from surface batteries to satellites and fighters, but not any ships yet. The static defences seemed to be doing a good enough job alone, destroying ships faster than they could be replaced from following units and slowly halting the progress of the forces.

"No!" he yelled. "Not like this, we have an obligation to break through! We must break through!" He could see nothing but failure and shame around him, his first command as Warmaster looked a lot like it would be his last.

"Enemy fire is too great!" Evenil reported. "We just can't advance into it!"

"Lies!" he snarled. "This attack is lead by cowards! Get some true warriors on the front!"

"They are not cowards sir!" Evenil snapped forgetting protocol. "They are the finest crews we have, but even our mythological warriors couldn't break through this, its too much!"

"We will not retreat!" Sha'dur growled. "If this day is to be our last then let us make it one to remember!"

"Yes sir." Evenil replied, she knew today would be remembered, if not for its glory then for its stupidity. More ships rushed forward, the _Overlord_ included, but it wasn't making a difference. Supporting attacks went in to hit different parts of the defence grid but to even less effect, the network was too well built with a vicious series of crossfires and dead ends built into it to break up an attack and drown it in fire. For all their fanatic bravery cold mathematics were winning the day for the Abbai, and the Dilgar ships lost more and more ships and crews which could not be replaced. Something had to snap soon or the Dilgar Navy would lose so many ships it would no longer have the ability to prosecute the war. It was Jha'dur who recognized this, who saw that honour and this stubborn desire for victory or death in this battle was going to get their entire civilization killed unless she acted.

"Communications, I need to speak to Warmaster Sha'dur immediately." She stated. "This slaughter has gone on long enough."

Dilgar Dreadnought _Overlord_

The warship was shuddered by a hit from the Abba defences, buckling its hull and opening up part of the engineering section, the damage only served to fuel Sha'durs rage. It was an anger born from his impossible situation, the Abbai would not let him go forward and Dilgar tradition would not let him go back, he was trapped between two worlds, one physical and one in his heart and both were crumbling his hopes. Losses to his fleet were heavy, and the supporting forces were little better off, they simply could not find a way through.

"Warmaster Sha'dur, respond." A feminine voice spoke from the communication net, one he recognised instantly as his sisters.

"Warmaster Jha'dur." He fumbled the controls a little until he found a secure channel. "Sister, do you bring your fleet to my aid?"

"I bring my knowledge to your aid, you are defeated, retire immediately and conduct a fighting withdrawal." She said formally with no affection, her mind was entirely focused on the mission at hand. "My forces shall provide cover to prevent Abbai ships trying to rout you."

"Absolutely not!" Sha'dur answered back angrily. "We will not abandon the attack."

"The attack has failed, all you are doing is wasting ships in a futile gesture, ships we will need later in this campaign."

"If we do not win there will be no campaign, it will end here! The League will see we cannot defeat their most feeble warriors and will strike us down with all their might!"

Jha'dur felt a muscle flex in her jaw, a subtle hint that she was losing her temper. "Every second you delay costs us another ship. There are other ways to fight this war."

"Like how? How can we proceed with an enemy planet at our backs?" he spat back.

"We will find a way." His sister replied confidently. "But now you must withdraw."

Sha'dur took a seat in his command chair as resolute as he ever had been. "I will not."

"I can make it an order." Jha'dur warned. "I can take your fleet from you."

"They will not follow you, they will join me in fighting through to victory or dying in the process."

"Do you so desire death?" she snapped in frustration. "Would you so quickly throw away your life and thousands of others for what? Honour?"

"Of course, it is reason enough for all of us."

"Honour gives you nothing." She said with a snarl. "Just a cold grave, use your mind, cut our losses and retreat!"

"You should understand this my sister, of all people you must understand sacrifice!" he called over a rumbling explosion.

"Sacrifice?" she scoffed. "I know about sacrifice, I gave up everything to help our people! I gave up everything to help you! All that work that I put into raising you and educating you thrown away for honour? You've been a Warmaster for a few days and look how you've changed! You are as big a fool as all the rest!"

She sat simmering in her chair, the rest of her staff trying to look engrossed in their duties and not the unfolding conflict.

"You are smarter than this brother, this isn't you." She said more quietly. "Don't let this be how your life ends, bring the ships back."

"I understand." He answered, also more calmly now. "This isn't how I want my time to end."

"My ships are in position, we will cover you."

"There will be no need." He said again. "You were the smart one, always have been, but its time I did something on my own, something I believe in."

"Stop talking like that, I want you to pull back now." Jha'dur felt her voice rising. "Listen to me, this isn't what you want to be remembered for!"

"When I took this post I knew what was expected of me, how can I live when so many of my loyal crews have died? My place is with them."

"Your place is with me!" She demanded.

"Not anymore sister, its time for me to make my own way and my own decisions. Good luck with the rest of the campaign." He sounded strangely peaceful amid the shaking hull plates of his ship as it came under more fire. "Save our people, and our line."

"Don't do this!" She yelled on the verge of hysteria. "Don't you leave me here alone!"

"He's broken contact." Captain An'jash reported solemnly, totally unsure how to act in this situation. She felt sympathetic but extremely awkward about expressing that emotion. "His ship is moving forward."

"Move to intercept." Jha;dur commanded, fighting back her fear and despair.

"Warmaster, we'll never make it in time, we're…."

"I said do it!" Jha'dur roared, it was a rage she had never before felt fuelled by her need to keep the last of her family alive. "Full speed!"

An'jash knew it was a mistake, that emotion was ruling her commander, but she could not disobey. She gave the orders and the Strike fleet began to advance.

Sha'dur was at peace again, the same realisation he had come to at Utriel, it was an acceptance of destiny, that if he was fated to die today then there was no way to hide from that, he might as well embrace it. He had responsibilities and he didn't want to abandon them, but he had to do this now, there was no choice.

"Alright Captain, into the fire."

"Yes Warmaster." Evenil said calmly, she too reaching that point of resignation without regret.

The dreadnought cruised forward, again the Abbai defences responded and the renewed assault came to the same grinding halt the others had, warships breaking up and exploding on all sides, their debris showering the survivors before they too were turned to scrap. Even though space was dark, the entire line here was bathed in light, it was a remarkable place to end his journey.

"Target nearest platform." Sha'dur ordered. "Try and destroy it."

Evenil laid in the coordinates, and the various weapons station came online, there wasn't the same frenzied rush as might be expected in battle, they seemed to know it was more of a formality before being destroyed.

"Warmaster, receiving a message." Evenil said with urgency.

"If it is from my sister I do not need to hear it."

"No sir, from the eighth missile destroyer division."

He sat up at the unexpected report. "Lets hear it."

A crackly channel opened, bursts of static punctuating the voice on the other end.

"Fleet command? Come in?" a young male voice said anxiously.

"This is the Warmaster, I hear you."

"Good," he replied, clearly relieved. "We wanted you to see our final acts, and to use them."

"What do you mean, what's happening?"

"I am Subaltern Gar'adi, and I die for the Imperium."

The transmission dissolved into static, then cut out.

"Where is that division?" Sha'dur asked, he didn't understand what the message meant and it both angered and worried him.

"Coming in fast from starboard." Evenil answered. "Five missile ships."

A deep explosion rocked every station on the bridge, causing Sha'dur to lose his balance for an instant, almost tumbling him from the chair. He steadied himself and tuned his nearby console to track the incoming ships. The missile ships were designed for long range battle, in close combat they were even more fragile that the usual Dilgar line warships, he failed to see what Gar'adi was trying to achieve beside a noble death, which he supposed was an end to itself. As he watched one of the vessels was destroyed by a pair of satellites, and then a second followed it, just two more wrecks among the hundreds.

"They die well." Sha'dur said. "An example to us all."

The three remaining ships passed the frontline, moving into the heart of the Abbai frontline. One more of the missile ships died as the local satellites turned to engage, and then fired. But the weapons fire didn't have a chance to reach the two surviving missile ships, they detonated themselves first in a brief flash. Sha'dur was caught out for a second not understanding what the entire point of this action was when all of a sudden the front of the Abbai defences vanished in light. Each of the missile ships had been packed with nuclear weapons for use during the bombardment, hundreds of the devices, all of which had been set to explode the same instant that the missile ships made it to the Abbai defence grid.

The light from the blast was visible from the planet below, a faint glow on the horizon visible from the central command centre half a world away, the illumination explained in all its terrifying power on the rooms various display screens.

"Send readiness orders to sectors five and six." Shala'dan said calmly. "Prepare to move the reserves forward."

"What changed?" Alikie asked with dread. "What did the Dilgar do?"

"We must be prepared for the worst." The Drazi said concisely. "We might have a problem."

"Sensors returning." Evenil said, the sudden blast had caused overloads across the board.

"Was that the missile ships?" Sha'dur gaped.

"Confirmed, they detonated their entire payload in front of the Abbai line."

Data fed through to Sha'durs terminal and for a moment his breathing stopped, he had to check twice to make sure he was correct.

"A breach." He said with mounting excitement. "A breach in the line! They opened up a gap for us!"

"Yes sir." Evenil smiled " A forty mile wide hole!"

Sha'dur wasted no time, activating the fleet wide communications. "All ships converge on my position! The enemy defences are broken, we can take the fight to them! Advance immediately and leave nothing standing in your path!"

Abbai cruiser _Syontar_

Cashik regulated her breath and held her calm demeanour in the face of the unfolding nightmare. The Dilgar attack looked like it was fizzling out, its final desperate push torn apart by the defence grid like the previous efforts, but in a sudden turn everything had changed and the defences had been blown wide open. A dozen satellites, and a number of Dilgar ships, had been destroyed or heavily damaged in the blast and even as the plasma cooled enemy ships and fighters were racing forward to exploit the new opportunity.

"Warn command immediately." She said carefully controlling her tone. "Tell them enemy ships are moving on Ssumssha."

"They already know." Officer Trinki replied. "Central is telling us to hold position but be ready to move, they're sending in other closer units first."

Cashik nodded slightly and forced herself to remain still. She had a strong desire to do something, like she was watching a blaze raging out of control with a hose in her grip, but she was being told not to turn on the water. She had to remind herself that central command had a better view of the battle then her and knew what it was doing.

She really hoped they knew what they were doing.

Dilgar Fleet.

"Come on!" Sha'dur shouted over the noise of the shuddering ship. "We need more power!"

"Engines are already redlining!" Evenil returned the shout. "We're almost there!"

Every ship in the line was driving for the gap in the Abbai defences, and it seemed that every weapon in the defenders arsenal was turning to cover the hole. With so many ships gathering they couldn't miss, and Dilgar wrecks were cluttering the approaches and forcing the following ships to push them aside. The wrecks managed to absorb some of the fire aimed at the attackers, enough was still getting through to keep the assault hemmed in. the ships were being funnelled into the Abbai guns, while the breach had looked like a sure way to victory it was slowly becoming a sure way to destruction.

"Press on!" Sha'dur demanded. "This is our chance!"

"More enemy ships just joined the defence, we're losing too many ships to break through!" Evenil yelled. "We've already taken heavy damage, we won't last much longer!"

Waves of fighter shot past, within a second of passing the _Overlord_ they were caught in the Abbai quad cannons and torn to pieces by the score. Destroyers would drive on into the storm of cross fire and explosions with suicidal bravery but to no end, it just added to the stream of burnt debris floating on through the lines to disappear into empty space.

"This isn't fair!" Sha'dur exclaimed. "We're so close! We are almost there!" he pointed at the image of Ssumssha and the billions of Abbai cowering there in fear of the Dilgar. "I can almost reach out and touch them!"

"There is no way through." Evenil said in frustration. "More Abbai ships are moving into position, they're intensifying fire."

"Just one more push! After coming so far all we need is a final effort!"

"I can't give you it Warmaster." Evenil stated. "We will not survive."

Sha'durs heart was sinking, it seemed a moment of hope had opened but it had been a trick of fate, just another way to torment him before death. "So be it, but at least we die well."

"Yes sir." Evenil replied evenly showing no fear or emotion. "We are almost at the front."

And to be on the front line meant instant destruction. Sha'dur accepted it.

"You are a credit to the service Captain. We were lucky at Utriel."

In the moment before the dreadnought reached the crucible of the defences everything changed, the Abbai defences were struck by a sudden wave of missiles and laser fire destroying scores of satellites to the left of Sha'durs attack. The satellites were so busy firing on the assault group they missed the sudden volley from the flank and couldn't target their defensive weapons on time. The whole left flank of the battle opened up, throwing the defence into confusion as they fought to react to the surprise.

"Its Jha'dur!" he shouted in wondrous joy. "I knew she wouldn't abandon us!"

Sure enough the long range sensors which had been ignored by the crew showed the Warmasters strike fleet opening up with long range fire on the defences, missiles and rounds from mass drivers ploughed into the Abbai stations and crushed an area of the line.

"We must act quickly, adjust course, take us through the line!" Sha'dur was virtually jumping with adrenalin, the ups and downs of the battle leaving him confused about what fate truly wanted. "Order all ships to form up and advance!"

Cruiser _Syontar_

"To hell with this." Cashik cursed, amazingly rare for an Abbai let alone an officer. "Engines at full, weapons fire at will."

The Dilgar had broken a section of the fixed defences and were moving through the gap, they had a clear shot at the planet below and could cause millions of deaths in an instant. Orders or not Cashik understood she had to act. The cruiser accelerated nimbly, an escort of fighters following on towards the growing chaos. Within seconds official orders came through for the whole group to advance, every available ship was to move in and intercept the Dilgar fleet, they were still outnumbered but the Abbai were not afraid and they moved into range with stoic expressions.

"In range." Franir said dispassionately. "Firing now."

The combat lasers discharged, punching far out into space and damaging a distant enemy ship. A number of Abbai ships were closer and were grappling with the leading Dilgar ships as defence platforms quickly realigned, turning inwards to fight ships moving behind them. Cashik saw an Abbai carrier trying to retreat the firing line being pinned by a Dilgar cruiser, its shields failed and armour cracked open under the attack. A series of nuclear explosions stutterd across the battlefront, though who fired them was a mystery as they seemed just as destructive to both sides.

"Command is releasing us from our location." Trinki said. "We're just to go and cause as much damage as we can using our own initiative with our escorts."

"Very well, we'll hit them on their flank, keep us close to the defence platforms and watch our velocity." The Captain said swiftly, noting the professional response of the crew. "Increase power to forward shields, this is it, the day we trained for, don't fail our people."

The bridge remained quiet, it had none of the boisterous enthusiasm of a Drazi ship as it headed for battle, nor the lengthy discussions between Brakiri clans as they tried to structure a plan. It was an air of simple expediency, they had to do the job so they would get it done without a great show about it, it was far too important a task for that.

For a few moments the Abbai line had fallen into confusion, and it had only taken that time for the Dilgar to strike with unerring precision and brutality at the worst possible location. The ships in the area were being pushed back, and while their carefully interlace fire was destroying two Dilgar ships for every Abbai vessel that fell the Dilgar had ample forces ready to carry on the fight. Gradually the breach was widening.

"Dilgar fighters are heading this way." Trinki warned. "They're locking on."

"Send our fighters to intercept and fire defence guns."

The Thoruns engaged the _Syontar_, plasma bolts bursting on the cruisers shields with minimal effect. It was possible for the Dilgar fighters to fly under the shields if they got close enough, a number of ships had fallen that way, so Cashik ordered the fighters forward to make sure that did not happen. The Abbai craft backed up by the _Syontars_ own guns managed to fend off the attack, destroying most of the enemy squadron and driving off the survivors.

"Recall the fighters." Cashik said quickly. "They are our escort, don't let them go off chasing enemy fighters and leaving us."

Trinki gave the signal, making sure discipline kept their formation together. Franir fired again, this time cuasing greater damage to his target.

"Watch the port side." Cashik cautioned. "Hold course and keep firing."

The ship arrived at the main battlefront and immediately shuddered under a sudden spray of Plasma bolts. The intensity of the fire was like nothing she had seen before, even the Utriel battle had been nothing in comparison with this. It was a surreal sight over the Abbai homeworld, something beautiful yet with the power to end her people's existence.

"There's the breach." Trinki said. "The fleet is massing for a counter attack."

"Take up position and follow them in." She said. "We'll add our power to theirs and defeat this menace."

The cruiser began to move into position, but before it could fall into formation a series of explosions scattered the assembling group of ships, destroying dozens and damaging more.

"Dilgar missile ships!" Franir yelled in fury. "Enemies all around us!"

A Dilgar destroyer passed within a mile of them, every inch of its hull was burning as air and fuel sprayed into space making it look like a small comet. The chaos and destruction was just unfathomable.

"Should we withdraw Captain?" Franir said. "Form a second line?"

"No, we will not leave this spot." Cashik said firmly. "Whatever happens next, we will not turn around. Keep Ssumssha to our backs and the Dilgar staring down our cannons, fight on."

A handful of ships stood before the breach, but there was little they could do. Reinforcements swept forward from their reserve locations leaving every other location undefended to oppose this assault, Dilgar ships were swarming forward and began to hunt down the Abbai mobile forces.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 13

Earth Dome, Geneva.

The air outside was beginning to feel crisper as winter drew near, the first frosts had settled in the morning and the trees that were dotted in and around the government offices were turning a golden shade of orange or red as they began to wind down. The parks and gardens set up beside the lake for the enjoyment and relaxation of the various officials and clerks were becoming more deserted, the only visitors now passed quickly through huddled in large woollen coats and gloves.

Director Karl Durban found himself a bench all to himself, there wasn't another soul for hundreds of yards and he was shrouded by the sleepy trees from view from the compound far behind. He had an excellent view of the lake and watched a few brave sailors rowing in the cold waters. As a native Australian Durban wasn't fond of the cold, even in winter back home it had remained mainly mild in the southern territories, so to come to a place where temperatures were already heading for freezing had been a shock to his system. But that was thirty years ago, and since then he'd been to the coldest places on Earth and beyond, from Ice planets to burning deserts he'd seen all the Earth Alliance could offer as he trained and served in his role of Spy, slowly but surely building up a network of agents and disgruntled nationals in every major empire, faction and group in the galaxy to serve the interests of his people.

It had been hard work, but he had become a spy master, the head of a valuable ring of agents feeding back information on a myriad of topics. His skills at organizing and coercing precisely the right sort of information allowed him to rise quickly through the ranks. Durban's people skills were legend in the EIA, especially his plays on members of the Kha'ri and the Centaurum to keep Earth space free of interference. He had become the deputy director of the EIA shortly after the Narn treaty was signed, and was promoted to its director proper five years later in 2224. His time since then had been consumed in politics and he longed for a decent challenge to his intelligence skills once more, and it seemed the growing Dilgar threat was going to grant him his wish.

A man thumped onto the seat beside him with an exhalation, the cool air misting from his warm breath. He wore a dark coat that appeared a size too big for him and a fur lined cap of black. He coughed a little and examined the view.

"I thought secret meetings like this only happened in story books." The man said in a thick eastern European accent.

"You'd be surprised how much from fiction is actually fact." Durban said. "Glad you could make it General."

"Call me Alexei." General Denisov replied. "I am off duty after all."

Durban nodded at the Earthforce Chairman of the joint chiefs, the senior soldier among humanity and more usually decked out in a grey uniform with five stars on his shoulder and a deck of medals on his chest. A meeting between two such senior members of the administration would have raised a lot of questions which Durban didn't want to answer, so he had set up this rendezvous on the quiet to make sure the wrong people didn't hear.

"You know why you're here?" he began.

"I would guess it's about the Dilgar." Denisov stated with a shrug. "Seems to be the main topic these days."

"In part, but also its about Secretary Brogan and his power games."

"Ah." Denisov sighed. "I had noticed he was playing this crisis for his own ends, gathering support in the senate. I suspect he has his eye on the presidency."

"That's a given, but worries me is who pays the price for him to get there." Durban shook his head. "He persuaded the President to authorize a surveillance mission to the Dilgar front, you heard?"

Denisov nodded. "It effects us too, it'll be one of my assets that goes out there, probably one our joint ships."

"Probably." Durban agreed, the EIA surveillance ships were run by Earthforce and had naval crews with teams of EIA specialists manning the vessels equipment. "You know it's a suicide mission?"

"Almost certainly."

"There's no 'almost' about it, if those guys go in they'll die."

"Its an order from the commander in chief, it has to happen." Denisov said flatly. "There is nothing I could do."

"Actually General…I mean Alexei, there is something. That's why I called this little meeting." Durban grinned. "We can fulfil the mission without losing a single crew member and prevent us getting dragged into this growing gagglef… this mess in the League."

Denisov stared at him. "You have my undivided attention."

"Remember, Brogan is counting on this mission to get us deeper involved in the war, I don't know why but he's got an agenda with the Dilgar. You and I both realise that if we take them on we're going to get badly hurt, win or lose it'll cost us a lot of lives for little real gain."

"There's a feeling that beating the Dilgar will put us on a par with the Centauri as a galactic superpower." Denisov suggested. "Many of my Generals are intrigued by the idea and anxious to send our forces into battle with a full sized empire to test them."

"Now don't say you agree with Brogan!" the Director gaped.

"Of course not, only a fool goes to war for no tangible gain. No, my duty is to the integrity and safety of the Alliance, a war with the Dilgar is not in our best interests. What is your plan?"

"You have to send a ship, we can't get out of that, but did you get told by the president exactly what ship to send?"

"No, just one of our spy ships."

"That's what Brogan wants, but there is no order to do so." Durban smiled as Denisov nodded in understanding. "You don't have to send an actual spy ship, it could be anything."

"Something which would not be so vulnerable." Denisov agreed.

"Like a dedicated warship, something with its own jump engines that could escape as necessary and defend itself if it had to."

Denisov snorted in laughter. "I can see why you are the EIA director, you are the most manipulative and sneaky man I've met!"

"Well thanks." Durban grinned in return. "This way we don't disobey a presidential order, we don't lose a valuable asset and a number of lives, and Secretary Brogan doesn't get us neck deep in the Dilgar war so he can become President of a super power!"

"It is a good plan." Denisov cackled a bit more. "I have a good ship out there now."

"I noticed a few scout cruisers out past Altair." Durban said. "It's the mission they're designed for, a quick look before scooting."

"Actually I'd prefer to send a dedicated warship, we have a heavy cruiser out there now, the _Persephone_, patrolling our borders. I know her Captain, he is skilled enough to get them out of trouble and will follow his orders to the letter."

"Even better." Durban concurred. "There's even less chance of losing a ship that big and powerful. I'm glad we're both on the same page Alexei."

"I'm only doing what I think is right for Earthforce." Denisov grimaced. "I don't like politics and I don't like politicians getting involved in running my fleets and armies. If this prevents one of my ships and its crew not coming home, then I do it because that's my job. Nothing else."

"I understand. Of course you realise this conversation never took place."

"And this trench coat will self destruct in ten seconds?" Denisov gave him a glance. "I know the drill Mr Director, just make sure Brogan doesn't play chess with the lives of my crews again."

Denisov stood up and took in a deep breath of the chilly air. "Reminds me of home." He commented. "Invigorating. Good day Director."

"Alexei." He nodded a farewell. The rowers still crossed the lake, the air still bit cold and the trees shedding their leaves in each breeze, but Durban had a new warmth inside. He had achieved something useful and would put that damn Brogan down in his place.

Abbai Central command.

Alikie didn't know exactly what was happening, but it seemed bad, guessing from the hard expression on General Shala'dans face things were going very grimly. The thin line of green on the tactical display ringing the planet had a gap in it, a gap through which a mass of red lights and dots were pouring through to everyone's consternation.

"Reserve units are being attacked while they are still gathering." A technician reported. "The rally points are already overrun."

"Set up new rally points." The Drazi said curtly.

"Our forces are being pushed back too fast, we'd have to put them directly in orbit to form up in time."

"I don't care if the rally points are outside, across the street and under the ocean!" Shala'dan snapped. "Get those routing ships lined up and ready to counter attack!"

"General, I can see this is a bad time…" Alikie began.

"Comms, get me Captain Mashir." Shala'dan yelled.

"But if you wouldn't mind…" the ambassador continued.

"No response," the communication officer shouted. "Her ship has been destroyed, it's off the scope."

"What about the rest of the First squadron?" he asked.

"Could you perhaps explain this?" Alikie kept on gently, her words seemingly lost in the cacophony.

"No readings." A deck officer replied to the General. "Looks like they're gone."

"Gone?" Alikie said "Where?"

"What about second squadron?" Shala'dan demanded. "Or the Third, fourth or Fifth?"

"No response, it looks like they are all destroyed."

The Drazi yelled in anger and rammed his fist through a screen, utterly terrifying Alikie with the burst of rage. "What's left up there?"

After a moment the answer came through. "I have Captain Cashik of the Ninth standing by, the tenth and eleventh is also in position under her orders, every other squadron of ships is redeploying but too slowly."

"Captain Cashik, this is central, do you hear me?" Shala'dan spoke directly to the Captain.

"I hear you." Cashik replied, her voice filtering through the speaker system. "We can see Dilgar units ahead of us widening the breach in our defences, others are pushing back elements of the Sixth squadron."

"We see it Captain, it is imperative that the Dilgar fleet does not reach orbit, is that clear."

"Yes General, if the Sixth falls, as it will in a few moments, they will have a clear run to orbit."

"Your orders are to proceed forward and hold the Dilgar advance at any cost, do you understand me Captain? Any cost."

"Preparing to attack now, what support should we look for?" Cashik wondered.

"Captain, we can offer no support." Shala'dan said sombrely. "Our ships are regrouping, but they won't be ready before the Dilgar strike. We need time, a few minutes, we need to slow down the Dilgar with the resources at our disposal Captain."

"Slow them down." The disembodied voice repeated. "Can homeworld be defended?"

"If we have time to gather our forces, perhaps." Shala'dan said. "But without time, we will all die."

"We understand General. Moving to intercept the Dilgar fleet, the goddess will grant us speed."

"Good luck Captain, we will send whatever we can spare." Shala'dan affirmed, then cut the channel.

"She's going to die isn't she?" Alikie asked in both amazement and sadness. "You sent her to die."

"This is war madam Ambassador."

"I would not have sent her, nobody here would have, it is suicide!"

"Yes Madam, and that's why I am here. I can give those orders, I can send warriors to their death, I can get them killed so more of your people do not have to. Her sacrifice is not in vain, she might just save this world."

There was a deep rumbling, a sound which got louder and louder with each second like a massive freight train approaching.

"What is that?" Alikie looked around.

"Sensors, what do you have?" Shala'dan asked. "Landing ship?"

"I don't think so." One of the operators said. "We have incoming!"

"Everyone take cover!" Shala'dan called out. "On the floor, quick!"

Alikie joined the room as the slid out of chairs, the roar outside deafening. Through one of the tall windows she saw a black plume of smoke and a fiery orb at its head apparently motionless in the air, a trick of perspective indicating the object was heading right for them. Suddenly as it neared the object seemed to grow staggeringly fast, it passed overhead, and Alikie along with the rest of the room swung their heads around to watch. They saw it hit the ground through the other set of windows in the building, crashing on the edge of the capital city and shattering half a dozen tall towers sending them to the ground in dusty spires. The shockwave from its impact raced across the land, passing under the command centres shield above the building.

"Stay down!" Shala'dan yelled over the noise, and in that instant the shockwave hit and blew out every window, showering the room with glass. The wisdom of putting windows in the command centre was shown to be flawed to the Abbai as dozens were injured by flying glass as brown dust filled the room.

"This is hell!" Alikie screamed unable to control herself any longer.

"Yes it is!" shouted Shala'dan. "An orbital strike, Dilgar mass driver. We were lucky!"

"How is this lucky!" she screeched.

"It could have been on top of us!" he chuckled a little and stood, completely covered in pale dust. It settled on every screen and technician in the room in a ghostly shroud.

"Look lively, we are still fighting!" the Drazi called. "You're not all dead yet, clean off your stations and give me a report!"

Alikie picked herself up, coughing on the thick air. She heard more coughs, and also shouted reports as control was restored.

"I want the orbital reserves sent forward to help Captain Cashik." The Drazi ordered. "Keep the other fleets assembling at the rally point."

"The orbital reserve fleet were those ships too damaged to fight!" Alikie said. "They won't last a second!"

"The Dilgar must destroy them before advancing, even if they can't hurt the Dilgar back they serve a purpose."

"These are people you are talking about! They have names and lives and families!" Alikie wailed in sadness.

"And when they fight and die it'll be to preserve two of those three things." Shala'dan replied. "I told you this would be the hardest thing to endure, this is why. Only your homeworld matters, now I have a battle to run."

Alikie backed away and collapsed on the dust covered floor, it had all turned into too much for her, the hash realities of war just couldn't be faced and the decisions Shala'dan made left her empty. But the very worst thing was she knew he was right, and that simply made her break down and cry on the floor of the command centre as the fate of her people hung in the balance all around her.

Dreadnought _Overlord_.

"With me brave warriors, follow on!"

Sha'dur was feeling unstoppable, after the initial stall in the attack Dilgar ships were now all but unopposed with the Abbai breaking and running in the face of the attack. It was a great victory, and it was his victory.

Captain Evenil was running the warship most efficiently, despite damage it was operating at full potential and cutting down enemy ships wherever it found them. Laser beams and bolt cannons pounded the crumbling Abbai fleet trying to hold them back and more ships were claimed by her guns.

"We've almost broken through." Evenil said.

"All fleet units will pursue any escaping vessels, missile units will start planetary cleansing, I'm sure my sister can provide the tools for that job." He grinned, the weapons Jha'durs fleet were carrying would make even the Supreme Warmaster blanche.

"Incoming Warmaster!" Evenil reported frantically. "Three battle squadrons from our port side!"

"Adjust course and speed." He ordered quickly. "Fleet units fire at will!"

The Dilgar fleet was out of its battle formation, in the confusion of the break through the various units had squeezed through where they could with no coordination, just a need to get into range with the Abbai. Sha'dur had not been able to reassert control, his efforts being directed at driving them on instead or preparing an overwhelming and steady assault. As a result when Captain Cashik's counter attack hit the Dilgar, despite being hugely outnumbered they carved into their enemies who were too taken aback to respond effectively.

"I want those Abbai ships dead!" the Warmaster snarled.

"Leading ships are having a hard time reacting." Evenil said. "They can't get into a favourable position."

"I don't care, use other ships!"

"We're too bunched up in the breach, following ships are being held up by the forward ones, and they are hemmed in by those coming along behind."

"So break up the fleet!" Sha'dur gasped. "Do I have to think of everything?"

"I'll give the order, but we are so out of position…" she tailed off under her commanders angry stare.

More ships were destroyed as they flailed around under the attack, the return fire barely scratching the Abbai ships. Cashik kept her vessels moving, not allowing the Dilgar to gather in one place to stop her. She realised it was a game of cat and mouse, and it wouldn't take the Dilgar long to organize themselves into a unified fighting force again, but by then she hoped to have a lot of reinforcements on their way, it just needed more time.

"This is pointless! Assemble our escorts!" Sha'dur snapped. "We will proceed with the attack."

"Alone sir? Are you serious?"

"Don't question me, of course I am!" he grinned, his eyes almost glazed and far away looking. "The Abbai are beaten, we just need one final push to tip them over the edge! We can do this, we can administer the final defeat ourselves!"

"I advise we wait for the whole fleet sir."

"So noted, now follow my original orders."

With a sigh Captain Evenil gave the commands, and the Dreadnought veered away followed by two dozen other ships of its escort. While the fleet milled around behind him Sha'dur headed away to drive deeper into the Abbai front. Central command saw the ships leave but could do nothing about it, they didn't have anything left to counter Sha'dur so stuck to their plan of rallying their fleets and preparing to strike back.

"Come on!" he roared. "This is why we were born, to lead our people to Victory!"

"Warmaster your Sister is urging us to stay with the fleet." Evenil read a message. "She says we're heading into…"

"Ignore it, all speed ahead!" Sha'dur laughed in joy. "We will never be forgotten!"

Evenil agreed with that, but the reason they would not be forgotten was what troubled her.

They burned down a couple of damaged Abbai ships and began reaching orbit, swinging around the curve of the planet. The ships were silhouetted by the planet below, their sharp angles black against the clouds and oceans below.

"There's noting to stop us!" Sha'dur grinned. "I told you there wouldn't be! We will destroy their capital city and central command!"

As soon as Evenil heard the words 'central Command' she realised what Jha'dur had been trying to warn her brother about. "Hells teeth!" she gritted. "All ships break off, break now!"

"How dare you!" Sha'dur leapt up. "What gives you…" his voice faded as the ships sensors caught something on the horizon coming up over the curvature of the planet.

It was a battlestation, the fully operational _Pirocia_ class station which provided the main defence for the capital city below, something Sha'dur had completely forgotten about. That station now fired, its tremendous weapons load tearing into the Dilgar force and ripping destroyers into glittering metal. The command dreadnought pulled a frighteningly tight turn, throwing Sha'dur up into the roof as its thrusters went onto emergency power, straining and bending every support on the vessels hull. It was struck by multiple beams, severing communications and engines and leaving the ship spinning away under inertia out and beyond the Abbai defences. As the ship cleared the satellite grid the Abbai fleets finally gathered to attack.

Dreadnought _Conqueror._

"Warmaster Sha'durs vessel is out of contact." An'jash said.

"Destroyed?" Jha'dur asked quickly.

"Crippled."

"Despatch a squadron to retrieve it, I have much to say to my brother." She said with a stoniness to her words. "Put me on fleetwide."

An'jash tapped some codes into her master command station. "Ready."

"Warmaster Jha'dur to fleet, begin withdrawal now starting with the rearmost units. Form a rally line at the following coordinates and hold there. An Abbai counter attack is heading your way, I want to see a slow and careful withdrawal which preserves our forces."

Abbai forces were already engaging the front of the breakthrough force while fresh units were heading for the breach to try and cut off those ships already within the circle of Abbai guns.

"Move the fleet forward into covering positions, we'll slow down that offensive and allow the less damaged ships to retire." Jha'dur frowned at the display, then a ghost of a smile came to her. "Now would be the time for our diversion."

As the battle around Ssumssha entered its final phase every eye in Abbai central command was watching the Dilgar begin to retreat, forces were gathering and driving the invaders back much to everyone's immense relief. It took them valuable seconds to see the jump points forming amidst the debris of Dilgar ships around the Primary colony world in the system away from Ssumssha. Ordinarily the defence grid would have destroyed whatever came through to point in a matter of seconds, a ship leaving a jump point is extremely vulnerable until its systems can fully recover from the energy drain of creating a vortex making combat jumps a very risky tactic. In this instance the risk worked, and ten warships emerged from hyperspace and instantly began firing missiles, not at the orbital defences, but at the planet below and behind them.

General Shala'dan responded quickly and targeted the automatic defences, a wave of fire converged on the missile ships quickly destroying them, but the missiles got through. It wasn't enough for global saturation, but each deadly payload of Stafford's Plague sentenced a whole city to a slow death, and even if the missiles didn't cover the whole planet given time the contagion surely would as panicked people spread Jha'durs latest concoction.

In the bright light of victory it hung like a cloud souring the Abbai population and leaving the officers in the control room in stunned silence.

"Why?" Alikie rose from the floor, the white carpet of dust still lying heavy on everything. Tracks ran down her face showing tears which she did not hide. "Why do they do this? Why do the Dilgar want us dead!"

"I don't know." Shala'dan replied sincerely. "For territory, for power, for fun. Maybe just because they can."

"They poisoned our colony." She stumbled on her words, the grief trapping those sounds in her throat. "It had no strategic value! It was nothing to them, we are nothing to them!" she yelled through the tears. "Why should they care!"

Shala'dan looked away, he had no answer. The Dilgar were in retreat and the Abbai fleet restoring the planetary defences, it had been a very close battle but they had won, they had protected Ssumssha at least for a little while longer, but by drawing forces to defend the homeworld they had sacrificed the colony and its millions of inhabitants. He knew it was the price of war, but it made it no easier to bear.

"Damn you!" Alikie screamed. "Damn you and your kind! A curse on conquerors and warriors! Damn every last one of you! How many more have to die before the universe realises war is not the way!"

Again he did not answer. It was an unanswerable question, and he felt like telling the hysterical leader that if not for the sacrifice of her own warriors Ssumssha would have fallen in a few minutes and now every one of them would be dead. It wouldn't matter to her, best leave her to work through the grief and shock alone.

"What have they done." She was quieter now. "What have they done? What have they done?" she repeated the phrase over and over, the nearby weapon controllers transfixed by the spectacle.

"Medical team." Shala'dan barked. "Take Ambassador Alikie to a place she can rest, everyone else get back to your stations!"

As the Ambassador was slowly led away arm in arm with a medic Shala'dan understood that the casualties of war were not just limited to those shot or burned on the battlefield, but would also be inflicted on those at home too. Abbai society was already a casualty of this war, its pacifist ideals shattered under the grim attack, the effect on the psyche of its people would never be understood by a simple Drazi soldier, so he focused his mind, ignored the dust caking his uniform, and began to restructure the defences ready for the next attack.

Geneva, Earth.

It was almost an alien landscape, completely new and unimagined filled with exotic wonders and terrors, with beings who's desires and ambitions were strange and new, and whose appearance awed him. But this was not some strange new world, at least not physically, it was an evening function designed to raise awareness of poverty growing in the African Bloc nations.

Morgan Clark was a fish out of water stood amidst the glitterati, there were two types of people in the room, those with power like the politicians, Captains of industry and diplomats, and those who thought they had power like film stars and celebrities. And then there was Clark himself who was neither, stood in a corner in a rented tuxedo with a half drunk glass of champagne in one hand and a canapé in the other feeling utterly useless. The event was held in the great reception hall of the senate building with pale wooden floors and high ceilings dominated by thirty foot high windows at the head of the room. It was night outside, and within a warm glow of subdued lighting created a pleasant ambience for the rich and famous within.

Clark was here because Secretary of State Brogan had invited him as a guest, he had been reluctant to accept but appreciated that a refusal could sour relations with his new friend, and after the stark verbal assault by director Durban he was beginning to think a career in the EIA was impossible. Despite his awkwardness it was actually turning into an interesting experience, he amused himself by spotting famous faces and eves dropping on conversations, finding himself surprised at how the ultra wealthy lived their lives.

He suddenly caught the eye of an exceptionally attractive young woman, instantly recognizing her as Sun Chi, the newest and most successful of the current crop of young movie stars and an object of desire for millions of people. He held her gaze for a few moments, petrified by the attention of this starlet, before she moved on and went to speak with the Vice President of the Alliance. He cursed himself inside for just standing there and gawping like a village idiot, he should have at least tried to make conversation but found his body unwilling to respond. In loathing he took a bite of the canapé and instantly regretted it, the thing was cold and rather crusty, utterly disgusting to his pallet. He turned look for a bathroom to spit out the revolting delicacy.

"Morgan, good to see you." Harry Brogan met him as he turned. "Everything alright?"

Clark was acutely aware that his face was contorted in disgust over the canapé. With a supreme effort of will he swallowed his mouthful, guessing there was going to be a price to pay for that in the morning. "Just fine thanks." He smiled.

"Lets take a walk, my party are sat over here, there are some people who want to meet you."

Clark followed on suddenly intrigued. They crossed the hall, Brogan exchanging greetings with a number of dignatories on the way including the Centauri ambassador, and finally stopped at a table in a fairly quiet quarter of the room. He pointed to each of the three persons sitted at the table.

"I'd like to introduce Carol and Ellen, my two daughters." Clark nodded to them politely. "And this is my son in law, Carols husband, Mike Jankowski."

The man stood, he wore the dress uniform of an Earth Force Lieutenant Commander. "Pleasure." He offered his hand.

Clark took it. "Commander, my compliments, you've found a true beauty there."

The assembled group laughed a little, and Brogan gave him a slap on the back. "Way with words eh?" he laughed. "This is Morgan Clark, my new friend in the EIA."

"The Dilgar expert?" Jankowski asked. "We had some of your work circulated around the fleet. Made worrying reading."

"Commander Jankowski commands the _EAS Gato_, one of our frigates?" Brogan frowned as he tried to remember.

"Yes sir, we're here to participate in war games off Ganymede this month."

"Must be exciting." Clark commented, the desire to go into space nowhere near his heart.

"It can be, but also dangerous. There are a lot of threats out there."

"Very true." Brogan agreed with Jankowski. "Lots of threats, which is why Earth needs to rise above them to protect itself."

He gestured for Clark to sit, and then pulled up his own chair. Clark noticed he had become the centre of attention and found himself feeling slightly embarrassed again, still clutching the vile canapé.

"I want to talk to you about our thoughts on the Dilgar." Brogan began. "Don't worry about these folks, I trust them all with my life. Earth Force is going to send an expedition, a single ship, to investigate the Dilgar threat."

"Well that's great," Clark said. "Its what we wanted."

"Sort of, but you see they're sending a warship, a cruiser that will watch from the edge of battle and not get involved. Now while that's fine, it doesn't serve our interests much."

"Our interests?" Clark wondered. "But it gets our intelligence on the Dilgar?"

"It does, but we also want Earth to take a role in these events." Brogan said quietly. "What's happening out there is changing the face of the galaxy, the old factions are changing and the Earth Alliance needs to be part of that, directing the changes to our advantage."

"So you're talking about direct intervention?" Clark frowned. "But there's no way the senate will approve that."

"No right now, no." Brogan admitted. "But if we are careful we can make sure they have no choice and that they have to do what is good for Earth, despite their political cowardice."

"How then?"

"Easy." Brogan smiled. "We make sure that Earth Force ship isn't on the edge of battle, but right in the thick of it."

"Oh now hang on," Clark pulled back. "I don't think sending our ship into direct confrontation with the Dilgar is so smart."

"Of course it is." Brogan replied in a reasonable tone. "It shows the League we have the reach to deploy ships to their space and face the Dilgar. It warns the Dilgar themselves that we might become involved, and it shows the folks back here that Earth is part of the galactic scene."

"The Dilgar are remorseless," Clark explained. "If they see one of our ships in their way they will destroy it."

"Firing on an Earth vessel would be a big mistake, the senate would have to do something. In fact it would help speed up our cause."

Clark was a little taken aback. "You're not saying we should…"

"Sacrifice one of our own ships for politics?" Brogan raised an eyebrow. "No, Commander?"

Jankowski sat forward. "The ship they're sending is a heavy cruiser, one of the best ships in the fleet. If it does run into trouble it is more than capable of defending itself until it can open a jump point. Its orders are to run if it comes under fire, we won't lose the ship."

"And that's a military man talking." Brogan added. "The ship will be fine, but it'll be a powerful message. And this is where you come in."

"Okay." Clark nodded, following Brogans reasoning.

"Earth force doesn't know where to send this ship, it'll go to the Abbai border but they don't know whether to operate from Brakiri or Hyach space. They know the Dilgar will go for one or the other soon, so the ship will go to the safer location." Brogan outlined. "We need you to make sure the Earth force ship is deployed right in front of the Dilgar attack."

"You can guess better than anyone where they'll go, and the joint chiefs will use your report to decide where to send the ship." Jankowski stated.

"So we just want you to write your report in a way that command sends it ship to be in the right place at the right time."

"You want me to lie on an official report?" Clark double checked.

"It won't be a lie, just a different interpretation of the facts." Brogan said. "The bedrock of politics."

"I don't know Mr Brogan, this is my career."

"Call me Harry." He said. "And trust me, you don't the EIA to be successful, just stay with me."

"He's right, this is the best thing." Jankowski added, the young officer clearly in the pro intervention camp. "That ship will be just fine, and in the end it'll do more good for us than harm."

Clark emptied his champagne glass, the possible consequences of this were huge. Either the powers that be would discover he lied and sent him to jail, or they'd guess he was incompetent and ignore him in future. It wasn't going to be pleasant. But on the other hand Brogan exercised a great deal of influence in just about all circles of government, it seemed likely that Clark wouldn't be out of a job for long.

"Alright, I'll do it."

Brogan laughed jollily. "Good man Morgan, now then, why don't you tell us what happened when Durban called you into his office, we could do with a joke!"

Morgan reluctantly joined in the discussion, becoming more and more comfortable. He didn't feel like one of the people in this room, but as the night wore on he did actually appreciate that he had power, a power he could use to forge the Earth Alliances future in a way that he knew would be best. Perhaps he wasn't too different from these people after all.

Dilgar First Strike Fleet.

Abbai home system.

Jha'dur stormed down the corridor of her Dreadnought towards the briefing room, the crew members giving her a very wide berth and making certain they did not provide a vessel for her wrath. She was furious, and had been for hours ever since the offensive had been recalled and she had managed to get the fleets away from the Abbai defence grid. The unnecessary attack had cost the Dilgar heavily and for little strategic gain, that in alone was enough to make her angry but the fact that the soul to blame for this was her own brother had driven her beyond rage.

She skidded to a halt in front of the door to the room and punched the controls, causing it to open unspeakably slowly. Boiling over with anger she entered the room and was forced to bury down her anger, it was no the correct time or place for an outburst. The room was filled with the seven remaining Warmasters of the assault force, they had started with ten including Jha'dur but two had been killed in action, it appeared recklessly charging into Abbai guns was not just a problem for her brother.

"Jha'dur." One of the men nodded, female Warmasters were rather rare in the Dilgar forces. "Now we are all here we can begin."

She looked across the room to her brother, he was in dress uniform and had a few cuts and bruises, but seemed well enough. He had been lucky not to have died alongside thousands of his subordinates, his ship had been crippled and left alone by the Abbai defence grid, they were more concerned with destroying active ships than finishing off a crippled dreadnought so ultimately Sha'dur had floated out of the battlefront and had been recovered by friendly forces. Jha'durs emotions were mixed concerning him, relief he was alive coupled with anger that he had acted so rashly combined to make her extremely grumpy.

The screen covering an entire wall of the briefing room came to life, it was a direct feed to Omelos and the council of Warmasters, though at this time only one person was in the lavish hall to speak with them, the Supreme Warmaster himself.

"What do you have to report?" he asked, ignoring pleasantries.

"The battle goes on," Warmaster Ke'das said proudly. "We have inflicted great loss on the Abbai and maintain the pressure. Their colony on Tavita is destroyed, and many ships have fallen to our guns."

"How long until the planet falls?" Gar'shan asked over the link.

"Soon my lord, another assault should break them."

Jha'dur scoffed, she'd had enough of this pompous fool. "No, it will not."

"Warmaster Jha'dur, I am the senior officer here and I am making this report." Ke'das growled.

"What do you have to say Jha'dur?" the supreme Warmaster wondered, completely ignoring protocol and the perceived slight to his other Warmasters.

"The Abbai homeworld will not fall to a second assault, they have constricted their defences and improved their overlapping fire pits." She spoke precisely, the concepts clear in her mind. "They are damaged but still supremely capabe of killing our ships, we have lost a lot of vessels lately and do not have the strength to overwhelm them."

"Is this true, Warmaster Ke'das?" Gar'shan said icily.

"Yes, yes it is, we did lose many ships, but with a few more fleets we could defeat them, I am sure of it, we are Dilgar!"

Jha'dur gave a withering glance to Ke'das, he represented what was wrong with the military, he didn't want to admit defeat and would keep on trying to win in an impossible situation and in so doing get all of their people killed. Things had to change and fast if they were going to win this war. "Frankly my lord we would need a vast force engaging simultaneously in at least four massive strikes to overcome their defences. To gather that many ships we would have to strip the strategic reserves and take fleets from the Drazi front, leaving us badly weakened. Of course many of those ships would be lost, greatly reducing our forces in the future campaigns."

"We have no choice," Ke'das replied. "We can't leave this planet active, it threatens our supply lines for fleets moving on the League."

"We don't need to destroy it." Jha'dur said and addressed Gar'shan. "The Abbai navy is decimated, all we need to do is keep them bottled up here, leave a fleet to blockade them and then continue our drive on the League."

"Too risky." Ke'das said. "We must remove this obstacle."

"It would take too long and jeopardise future operations." Jha'dur replied curtly. "We don't have the time or resources, and plainly put we don't have the need. Our priority is to keep our sword in the belly of the League, if we halt to strike this world we give them time to recover and perhaps mass a force against us. The fleet can always destroy this world later, after the League mobile forces are destroyed. The Abbai aren't going anywhere, and they can't hurt us. Leave them."

Gar'shan seemed to consider both options, but Jha'dur had been around the old leader long enough to realise he appreciated alternate solutions to problems. What she had suggested made perfect sense, provided the blockade held the Abbai were doomed.

"Very well." He said. "A fleet will remain behind to guard the planet, the other fleets will resupply and prepare for an attack on the Brakiri, Warmaster Jha'dur will clear the way."

"Yes sir." She bowed, the other Warmasters followed suit but did not seem happy. "I will remove any obstacles between here and the Brakiri border." As she recalled that amounted to three space faring independent systems, not much of a challenge. May I suggest assigning my Brother's fleet to guard this system."

Sha'dur shot her a fierce look, but said nothing.

"You want to keep him out of harms way?" Gar'shan asked.

"His fleet took heavy losses and will be combat ineffective for some time, however it will still be enough to perform blockading duties."

"I will take it under advisement." The Supreme Warmaster said. "You have your orders, Warmaster Jha'dur will commence operations immediately, the rest of you will prepare your fleets for open war. The Brakiri are more aggressive then the Abbai and almost as advanced, they have a large and powerful fleet. It will be a very different type of battle, plan for it."

Without a further word he ended the transmission, leaving the room to consider their new orders. Ke'das headed for the door, clearly not very pleased. He stopped for a second next to Jha'dur. "You embarrassed me." He whispered menacingly. "Today you have made an enemy."

She glared at him, giving as good as she got. "Don't threaten me, you have no idea whom you are dealing with."

He held her gaze for an instant, not knowing how to react, then left just as infuriated.

Sha'dur began to follow them out of the room.

"Not you." Jha'dur said harshly. "Wait here a minute."

The other Warmasters left, some looking over their shoulders before the door shut, leaving brother and sister together.

"You want me to guard this planet!" Sha'dur snapped. "I cant believe you…"

Jha'dur drew back her arm and threw a punch at her brother, connecting with his left side on his jaw and knocking his head round. He staggered back more shocked then hurt and stared aghast at Jha'dur.

"What the hell were you thinking!" she roared, her face growing red in rage. "I told you to fall back!"

"The Dilgar do not retreat." He said coldly but evenly. "I am a Warmaster now, I have standards."

"You complete idiot!" She answered. "Since when did you get so stupid?"

"Since when did you become such a coward?"

She swung her fist again, but this time Sha'dur stopped her.

"How dare you call me coward!" she spat. "When is protecting our ships from gross stupidity cowardice?"

"The Dilgar will either live as conquerors or die fighting, we have no other fate." Sha'dur said calmly. "It is no shame to die in battle."

"No it isn't, but it is the worst possible thing you could do." She sighed. "If you want to throw away your own life, fine, but you managed to take four hundred and sixty ships with you, with a similar number damaged. That's nearly a thousand ships that won't be able to fight against the Brakiri with us. They were lost for nothing and causes us immense problems in the future, all because you wanted to prove yourself as a Warmaster."

"You don't know what its like, I have to prove I can do this." Sha'dur emphasized. "I have to show that I am not just your brother!"

"Well so far you've only shown your complete inexperience. It was a mistake to give you a fleet so soon."

"You're saying I'm not as good as you?" he narrowed his eyes.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." She answered calmly. "Your decisions are based on emotion, not rational thought. You want to make a name for yourself and take your place among the great leaders of our people, but you never will because you don't use your head!"

"I just want to make everyone proud of me." Sha'dur said softly. "You included."

"Then don't do this." She smiled. "Don't go around trying to be like the other Warmasters, trust me if we ever run into a real opponent they'll be dead in the first minutes of a battle. You are smarter than them, have the confidence to fight on your own terms."

"I thought I was doing the right thing." He said. "An example to follow."

"You were brave, no one can doubt that, but you must learn control." Jha'dur smiled again. "Use this time away from battle to learn the real way to fight wars. This war won't be won or lost on the battlefront, but in the planning and preparation stage, something you missed. We must pick our enemies carefully, exploit their weaknesses and be smart. Also, never lead from the front."

"I just want to do the right thing."

"Then listen to me and obey," Jha'dur said confidently. "Otherwise you'll get yourself and a lot of others killed for no reason. Never forget that your main responsibility is to your followers. Now go on, and don't make me beat the stupidity out of you again because you know you can't take me."

Sha'dur laughed. "You were a vicious fighter." He suddenly came over quiet. "Those that died in the attack, that followed my orders…"

"What?" his sister frowned.

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Now you are being stupid, there's no such thing. Dead is dead. Now go, see to the repairs on your ship."

He left with a smile, and when he was gone Jha'dur sat on the table and exhaled. Her brother had potential, but he wasn't a natural soldier. His appointment to the rank of Warmaster was political, his actions at Utriel had made him famous and it was expected that Jha'dur would keep a tight rein on him so he didn't cause any trouble. She had falied in that task, and over four hundred ships had paid for it. He was no frontline commander, and after that performance any other Warmaster would have been executed, it seemed the family name and the Supreme Warmasters patronage helped them a lot. However if it happened again, nothing would save him from justice, Jha'dur had to make sure that when he went into battle a third time he was ready for it.

But first she had her own concerns, the rapid conquest of the worlds between the Abbai and Brakiri borders. They had been able to pass off the attacks on Alaca and Balos as retaliation for border raids, and even the fall of the Abbai and mass destruction of Drazi forces hadn't caused the League to react, it was amazing to her that they could still not appreciate the threat they were under. When the Brakiri came under attack though, an empire with no links to the Dilgar, then it was likely they would finally understand what was happeneing, so she would have to move fast.

"Captain An'jash?" she spoke into a nearby comms panel.

"Yes Warmaster."

"Assemble the fleet, we'll resupply and prepare to deploy towards Brakiri space. We'll be acquiring a base of operations to prepare for a full invasion."

"Yes Warmaster, where is our target?"

Jha'dur thought for a while, thinking of which world would be best suited to deploy fleets through and set up a supply line. "Tirrith." She decided upon. "We'll cleanse the rest. We leave when we're resupplied, no time to waste."

She allowed a small smile, within the week her fleet would be back in action and the offensive would regain its momentum.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

Earth Alliance Cruiser _Persephone_

Altair Sector

After successfully refuelling Captain DeVierre had set up a standard patrol pattern covering the Earth/Markab border designed to take in all the major shipping routes and unclaimed worlds to make sure everything was as it should be. The Markab themselves were friends of Earth, so DeVierre had no fears of being attacked by skirmishing Markab cruisers, but there was always the threat of Raiders, especially as the Markab were importing a lot more resources and refined materials presumably to build up their military fleet. The Dilgar invasion had ironically been really good for business within the Earth Alliance, with near constant shipments of weapons parts and heavy metals designed for armouring ships. Naturally enough the increased trade and types of cargo had let to a lot of interested from the Raider community prompting extended deployments for EA units in the area to maintain security.

"Scopes are clear Captain." Commander Philips intoned from her post at the front of the bridge. "No activity."

"_Bon._" He nodded cheerily " Set us up for our next waypoint, prepare jump engines."

The helm station beside Commander Philips moved the ship around, turning its nose to point along the Markab border.

"Jump engines charged, we're locked on Markab beacon 43212, ready to proceed." Philips reported professionally, over twn years of service allowing her to handle the potentially dangerous hyperspace jump with confident ease.

"Initiate Jump." DeVierre commanded, he'd made thousands of jumps in his career, but the moment of transition still held a certain anxiety for him, it was the most fraught time for a ship apart from actual combat, and although accidents were very rare they could still happen.

The vortex opened, bathing the ship in gold light. It cruised gently into the maw before accelerating into hyperspace and finding itself engulfed in the red energy and gravity of the alternate realm itself. DeVierre relaxed, he'd heard a story of a Drazi ship entering hyperspace at the same time a Centauri freighter was passing by and colliding with it, the explosion was amplified in hyperspace and both ships were utterly destroyed, and since then he'd had a recurring dream about the same thing happening to his cruiser.

"All systems normal Captain." Philips knew of her Captains phobia, he had shared it with her long ago and she had been touched to be taken into his confidence. A Captain and First officer tended to have a close working relationship, but DeVierre had also been a good friend on top of that and it was something the other officers and crew felt. They didn't just like the Captain, they also respected him and were damn proud to serve him, and that pride made the _Persephone_ a terror during wargames, she hadn't lost a fight yet.

"Captain, message from Earth Force command, Ultra Violet priority." The ships communication officer piped up with some surprise, an Ultra Violet level message was the highest priority in Earth Force, in the ships entire twenty year commission this was the third such message it had received. The last time was ordering the ship to respond to a Narn incursion, and the time before that was to rescue a crippled passenger liner. Generally speaking they were not heralds of good news.

"I'll take it in the office." DeVierre said, unstrapping himself from his seat and lifting up. He pushed away and floated carefully down the corridor at the rear of the bridge, the air doors sealing behind him. He took a quick turn into the next compartment and arrived at his quarters which doubled as his day cabin. They were unsurprisingly small and sparse, but considered luxurious compared to the facilities on other Earth vessels. He settled on his bed beside the desk and tabletop screen which took up a quarter of his space, and activated the coded message.

He was taken aback to see General Denisov at the other end of the line, the Joint Chief never spoke directly to lowly Captains, this breach of protocol instantly put him on edge.

"General sir." He said by way of greeting.

"Captain DeVierre, I have new orders for you direct from the President." The Ukrainian said. "Due to the sensitive nature of these orders I am delivering them personally."

"Understood General."

"You will leave this patrol sector and head immediately for League space, specifically the Tirrith system. Once there you will drop off some basic food and medical supplies from your stores, we understand you are fully stocked for a three month cruise, our intention is to have you home in one month so you can spare some for the refugees. That is your cover for being there."

"Cover sir?" DeVierre frowned.

"Your actual mission is to survey the Dilgar attack on the Hyach, Intel says it'll happen in the next week or so and forces are already massing. Gather as much as you can on their tactics and capabilities. This is pure intelligence gathering."

"I see sir, what if the Dilgar take exception to us spying on them?"

"You will exit the area at full speed. If they even look at you funny you will run, is that clear?"

"As a bell General."

"We will avoid an interstellar incident at all costs, do not engage Dilgar ships unless you have no choice, and only then you should engage only as long as it takes to escape." The General sighed perceptibly, he'd never admit it but DeVierre sensed Denisov was not happy about this mission. "I'm sending you a series of locations for you to investigate, move to each one in turn over the next few weeks. Take care of this and I'll make sure your crew has special extended leave for Christmas."

"That will be most welcome sir."

"I don't need to tell you how delicate this is, it's a political mission but it can yield valuable results for our forces. Use caution and your best judgement Captain, don't risk your crew for this."

"I'll take care of things General, we will not disappoint."

"Excellent Captain, I knew I had the right man for the job. I've sent the _Calypso_ to relieve your border patrol, when she shows up depart at once for Tirrith."

"Very well sir, anything else I should know?"

"We don't expect trouble, but I know you can handle yourself." Denisov nodded. "Good luck Captain, and stay safe."

The transmission ended, leaving DeVierre with a weak feeling in his stomach. He had no doubts his ship and crew were up to the mission, they had performed well in exercises and one or two fights with Raiders, but he still felt some concern about putting his ship in harms way so far from home.

"Commander Philips." He activated his link attached to the back of his hand. "We have new orders."

Tirrith Independent Star System.

League of Non Aligned space.

November 2230

The local space was extremely busy, literally hundreds of ships were crowded around the main planet and home of the Tirrithans seeking fuel or shelter. Most of the ships were civilian freighters and almost every one of them had brought refugees from Abbai space fleeing the destruction the Dilgar had brought with them. Most were from the lost colony of Utriel, but some had come from the home system itself. The Tirrithan navy, mostly patrol ships and light destroyers purchased from their neighbours, was been kept busy regulating the traffic, but lurking around the system were some far larger and more formidable warships.

Paul Calendar had spotted at least four different races had sent warships to this system, the biggest contingent was a full Brakiri battle group of heavy Cruisers with their distinctive tall fins and green and yellow colour scheme, but for Paul the most interesting sight was a Centauri battle cruiser staying separate from the other traffic.

"We've got permission to stay." T'Koth reported after translating the ground control message.

"Good thing," Jors spoke lowly. "Because we haven't the fuel to go anywhere else."

The _Space Race_ had seen more than its fair share of near scrapes in the last few weeks and was decidedly worse for wear, the ship needed extensive repairs to its engines and power systems but so far hadn't had time to pull up and tend its wounds. The Dilgar forces had rolled up the Abbai in a shockingly quick time, and Paul was hoping they'd take some time before moving on, time enough for them to fix their ship and get home.

"Alright Jors, bring us to a relative halt." Paul said. "Then get some rest."

"Are you sure Captain?" Toby chipped in. "I mean we should really start work."

"Wiring up the power grid is a complicated job," Paul said calmly, he himself was feeling exhausted. "I'd rather have Jors and Jenny well rested before they tackle it."

"We can make a start anytime." The large pilot said. "But we still need a few components."

"I'll talk to the Tirrithans, see what they have." Paul said. "Want to join me T'Koth?"

"Of course." The Narn grinned. "I'd be glad to stretch my legs."

"Alright, go get the shuttle fired up." Paul ordered. "Jors, get some sleep, Jenny is already asleep, and Toby," Paul fixed him with a serious stare. "That leaves you in charge of the ship, you think you can handle it?"

Yeah, I think so." Toby nodded. "You can trust me."

"Okay, watch the sensors and listen in on the comms chatter, you hear anything about Dilgar coming here, beep me."

"Got it." Toby grinned, quite pleased at the new responsibility.

Paul smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Take it easy." He said, then scuttled off toward the shuttle bay.

Paul and T'Koth chose the spaceport orbiting Tirrith as their most likely place to find the parts they needed. It was an unremarkable type of station resembling a giant disc slowly spinning to provide gravity for its occupants. It had little in the way of defensive armaments and seemed a purely civilian structure, in fact as the shuttle made its approach towards the central docking port Paul didn't see a single orbital defence satellite or evidence of a minefield. After the massively imposing defences he'd seen in Abbai space Tirrith seemed dreadfully vulnerable, especially as it had no exceptional warships.

He brought the battered and well used shuttle into the stations main bay and let the automated docking controls take over. It was a basic Earth Alliance atmospheric design capable of hauling passengers or a few tons of cargo if need be. Usually the _Space Race_ collected cargo directly from orbital facilities like this and so had no need to go and pick up cargo from the surface therefore the shuttle was used mostly for crew transfer. It was dragged into an alcove and heavy doors sealed shut behind it forming an airtight seal against the unpressurized main docking bay. Within a minute the atmosphere was a breathable oxygen and nitrogen mix, and it became safe for them to exit the shuttle.

"Most of these people will speak Abbai or Brakiri." T'Koth said as he walked powerfully down the steps to the deck. "They probably won't know much English, except the Brakiri, most of them consider it a second language."

The relationship between the Brakiri and humanity was an odd one, the Brakiri had long ago discovered radio signals transmitted from Earth from the twentieth century onwards, including a wealth of television programmes which served to inspire many aspects of Brakiri culture, some in a positive way, others perhaps less so. It meant that when Earth finally entered the galactic scene the Brakiri greeted them in English wearing smart business suits and immediately had a list of items they'd like to trade. Since then Earth and Brakos had kept a fairly cordial relationship and most Brakiri could converse quite easily with English speakers.

The pair exited the landing bay, and were struck by how busy the station was. The corridor they stepped into was filled with people, some rushing about but many just sat down beside the walls huddled with their possessions. He noted that most were Abbai, though there was a tremendous diversity of life here in this one place.

"Lets head towards the traders stalls." T'Koth said. "Oh, and watch your wallet."

It took them longer than expected to head out towards the outer rim of the station where most of the various businesses had set up, mainly because the crowds choking the station made movement extremely slow work. They gradually squeezed through and arrived at a large market space, a large corridor running around the station in one long circular corridor, large windows rose on either side of them giving an amazing view of space or the planet below depending on your side. Along the corridor were numerous shops and businesses set up in structures jutting from te walls on both sides and various market stalls selling trinkets arranged in the open paces along the walkway, all of which was as heavily crowded as the rest of the station.

"There he is!" T'Koth announced triumphantly. "Demin's spares, he's the best dealer in the system."

Paul hadn't heard of him, but somehow T'Koth had managed to garner contacts in every free port across the League. It was no secret most League races feared and distrusted the Narn regime, but despite this T'Koth seemed to have forged a good working relationship with traders and information brokers, it was quite a rare gift on his part. Demin's store was little more than a small room, clearly just an outlet to take orders and arrange payment, his actual wares were likely located down on the planet. The owner himself was a fairly short humanoid with dark skin and prominent facial ridges around the eyes, marking him as a native of Tirrith.

"Well, T'Koth." He chuckled. "Good to see you passing by again! Must have been a year at least!"

"Demin, still selling that knocked off junk you call premium starship parts?" T'Koth joked, breaking into a wide smile. "It's been too long, but we have some business."

"Always the same with you, business first eh?" Demin nodded. "What can I do for you?"

Paul took a few steps back as the two aliens began talking business in the Abbai language. He'd picked up enough of the language during his year working out of Ssumssha to follow the gist of what they were saying, trying to find out if Demin had some specific parts in his stock and haggling a price for them. T'Koth was a master negotiator, so Paul left hi to it, walking to the shops doorway and taking a look out of the massive windows to his left.

The area immediately outside the station was buzzing with traffic, various models of shuttle and light freighter fluttered back and forth illuminated by the reflected light of the planet. With the great distances across space it was usually rare to see more than a handful of ships within sight of each other, but here Paul could see literally hundreds of ships massed together in a chaotic holding pattern, most of them seemed to be sending shuttles down to the surface to unload refugees from the invasion. The situation on the planet must have been growing ever more dire as more refugees arrived, the necessary food and medical shipments would put strain on the Tirrith government and it seemed like none of the other League powers were providing help, most of the Warships were staying away from the refugee convoys and seemed to be covering an evacuation of their own citizens.

"Paul." T'Koth said quietly from beside him. "I've managed to cut us a deal, Demin for all his skill is still a little cheat, and it cost us more than it should, but we have the power regulators, we'll pick them up from the planet at anytime."

"Nice work." Paul smiled and congratulated his friend. "Okay, we'll head back, get Jors and then head down for the gear. Perhaps then we can finally make for home. How's fuel?"

"He'll provide that too." T'Koth grinned. "We're all set up."

"You're a miracle worker, now lets get the out of here, this place makes me uncomfortable."

It wasn't anything he could put his finger on, just a general sense of unease that permeated the atmosphere. Paul guessed he was sensing the fear and panic of the crowd that was fleeing the Dilgar, a steadily growing panic as people realised they weren't safe here and would probably have to start running again soon. The thing that made it more disturbing is that Paul believed they were right, and he was doing the exact same thing himself. Tirrith wasn't safe for them, it would take only a tiny fraction of the Ssumssha offence force to conquer this world, and when that happened the lives of the population wouldn't be worth living.

_EAS Persephone_

"I enjoy space travel." Alfredo Garibaldi said loudly, his squad mates listening in. "I like being weightless even though many guys throw up because of it, I like seeing new places, I like the whole package of space."

"Except ghosts." Tucker chipped in.

"Except ghosts or Angels." Garibaldi corrected, he'd told his closest buddies about his experience out on the hull and they'd called it a hallucination, though Garibaldi himself still believed it was an unexplained wonder. "But do you know why I didn't join the navy?" he held up a plastic bag pierced by a straw and filled with some dull coloured paste. "This. I mean what the hell is this meant to be?"

"Lunch." Bugs replied. "Technically Chicken."

"Really, because I don't remember chicken being paste." Garibaldi snapped. "The food in space utterly sucks."

"Yeah, that's why it has a straw." Tucker guffawed at his own joke, then took a slurp of his chow. "Tastes okay."

"You're a cockney." Garibaldi pointed out. "Jellied eels are your local delicacy! But this my friend, is not food."

"Here we go." Bugs rolled his eyes. "Lecture time."

"Real food comes from Italy." Garibaldi said, it almost seemed like his eyes were misting. "It actually tastes like something, and it takes effort to make, you get out what you put in."

"Freddy here is a bit of a chef." Bugs explained for the benefit of the new troops in the unit, Private 'Large' Turnbow and Private Dorothy 'Hips' Harlow. "He cooks as good as he eats."

"Used to work in a top restaurant back in New York." Tucker added. "Got good reviews."

"So what happened?" Large asked in a deep barritone.

"There was some out of date food, a few rats, couple of lawsuits." Garibaldi shrugged. "Not pretty. I tried to be a cop, then a chef, then a soldier."

"And he's still trying on that last one!" Bugs laughed, prompting smiles from the squad.

"When we get back to Mars I'm going to cook up the best meal you can imagine, a welcome home dish for the platoon." Garibaldi nodded with a grin. "Yeah, it'll be something to celebrate."

"I hear that." Bugs agreed.

"Now hear this." The ships speakers buzzed into life. "Marine detachment to the armoury."

"Marines?" Tucker frowned. "We ain't Marines, hell every time I get called a Marine I think I lose ten IQ points."

"Guess that explains a lot then." Garibaldi grinned. "Come on, let's make a move. You all know the way by now."

Captain DeVierre noted the beacon signal strengthening as the ship covered the final stretch of hyperspace to the Tirrith gate. He radiated an aura of calm that filled the bridge, recognizing that his crew were likely on edge at being so close to a warzone and that despite their training they were still going to be apprehensive. He guessed that it wasn't the prospect of meeting an enemy ship which had created such tension, but meeting the refugees fleeing the invasion. What little intel they had spoke of massive destruction and unrestricted bombardment of civilian targets, and the reality of that was going to be hard for the crew to comprehend. It was hard enough for DeVierre himself.

"Almost at the beacon sir." Commander Philips mentioned, her voice flat.

"Very well, sound general quarters and be ready." It was DeVierres standard policy to have the crew at combat stations before returning to normal space, the precaution had never been needed but this could be the time they arrived in normal space and found themselves dumped into a battle.

Alarms rang through the ship and the bridge systems went from passive to active, weapons readiness lights blinked on and tracking systems gathered life. His troops were already getting themselves arrayed in battlegear and within two minutes the ship was fully sealed up at action stations.

"Weapons batteries report ready." Philips read out. "Defence grid armed and ready, Interceptors set for defensive fire, and hanger deck is bringing fighters to ready status."

"Excellent." The Captain complimented, felling familiar pride for his crew. "As soon as we transition to normal space launch a pair of Furies to cover us, keep the rest of the flight on ready alert." He took a deep breath, no more delays. "Activate jump engines."

"Listen up Platoon." Lieutenant Sanchez raised his voice above the sounds of equipment clattering as his soldiers strapped on their gear. "We have new orders from the top, we're going to be delivering some aid and rations to help with the refugee crisis developing on the planet Tirith. It won't be a lot but it will be welcomed by those fleeing the Dilgar invasion which I am sure you are all well aware of."

Garibaldi paused for a while as he checked the sharpness on his combat knife, the news had been full of reports from the front lines which were sensational but not very revealing, a report from the EIA which was circulating was almost equally vague. All they really knew was that the Dilgar were skilled and merciless, and it was smart to get out of their way.

"Which means," Sanchez continued, "We will be going planet side, a nice chance to stretch your legs and feel some weight on your feet."

There were a few jaunty cheers. All told twenty two men and women would be hitting the ground with Red Platoon, it was a basic Earth force formation, with one or two variations but basically a fair example of an Earth force military unit. In addition to the soldiers the Platoon also carried a pair of sentry guns, automated PPG support guns controlled remotely from the Platoon command post or set to automatic tracking and firing and very effective in defence. The platoon also had a sniper, in this case Private Harlow, who was hauling a long barrelled .50 cal rifle firing old fashioned solid metal bullets. The weapon benefited from the latest in recoil management technology allowing exceptional accuracy and making it manageable for any soldier to use if they had a keen eye, even the five foot two Private Harlow.

"So, full planetary gear including rebreathers and rations." Sanchez ordered. "Arm and leg armour is optional, but nothing else is. Full packs and sacks."

Garibaldi hauled on his full combat harness with its multitude of pouches and loops, and over that pulled on his rebreather. The large metal box sat squarely on his back with its plain green and grey camouflage still as fresh as the day it was applied, none of the unit had used this new kit on deployment yet but during the long hours on the _Persephone_ they had managed to personalize the gear. For Garibaldi that had meant painting a screeching image of Daffy Duck on the back of the unit, small enough to be covered by his pack which was worn over the top of the rebreather, but still a clear statement of his individuality. Bugs had, predictably, Bugs bunny, while Tucker had a staunch looking Bulldog. Earth Force regulations were fairly ambiguous on the subject of artwork on equipment and it was left to local commanders, the Regiment C.O for his part was happy to allow it for troops on garrison duty or exercise, but insisted it be removed for troops on active deployment. As they were ship based Sanchez had not ordered the gear to be left plain, he himself had a Mexican Eagle grasping a snake on his gear.

Sanchez waited for the last man to strap on his helmet, then placed his own firmly on his head. "Okay Platoon, lead the way."

Sergeant Sosobowski was the first out. "Move to the shuttle bay, use the ropes to keep you from floating away. Quicker!"

Garibaldi banged and bumped his way down the cool corridors of the ship, he noticed that whenever there was an alert the air was cooler, probably to keep the intensely focused crew from worrying about sweating under the stress of the scenario. If they were in the path of a Dilgar attack it would probably be quite unnerving for the ships officers and crew, though at least they weren't heading down to the planet below. With a sudden chill in his spine, Garibaldi had a premonition of being trapped on Tirith in the middle of a full scale landing. It was not a happy thought.

"Harpy two, fuelled up and ready to go."

"Harpy leader, fuelled up and ready."

Lieutenant Maximillian Scherer braced himself in his restraints for the inevitable kick, most Fury pilots weren't big fans of launching but Scherer secretly enjoyed it, the quick kick of acceleration like a theme ground ride.

"Understood Harpy flight, launch sequence initiated." The cool tones of Commander Philips informed. A series of electronic pips sounded in his helmet speakers, and after three of the quick beeps the hangar doors cranked open. Dark red light within the bay was banished in the bright glow of a not so distant sun, Max's visor instantly polarizing black to shield his vision. As far as he was concerned this was the best job ever invented. He was snapped back in his cockpit as the magnetic catapult tossed the fighter through the bay door and out into open space, the acceleration was brief but telling as his blood flowed faster through his arteries, he restrained a shout of joy and instead settled on a wide grin. He flexed his fingers and took control of the fighters controls, a highly intuitive mix of physical controls, helmet displays and voice controls.

"Harpy flight, be aware we have a shuttle launching soon." Philips spoke again on the head set. "Escort it to the planet, then assume standard patrol pattern."

"Roger that control." Lieutenant Commander Freeman replied, the senior pilot among the _Persephone's_ aerospace wing. "Okay Max, form on my position."

Harpy flight was using Earth Forces mainline fighter craft, the Tiger class Starfury which was considered by anyone who had trained against them to be one of the more exceptional little ships in service with any of the space faring races of the galaxy. After first contact the Earth Alliance had quickly realised their Gamma and Delta class fighters weren't going to cut it against the advanced alien designs and an entirely new concept in fighter design was needed discarding the age old design practices prevalent in fighters which had their roots in the earliest aircraft from Earths past.

The Aegis programme basically threw out the traditional practice of building fighters and created the first Starfury just in time to fight in a series of border skirmishes with the Ch'lonas empire where the radical early craft proved tremendously capable and surprised even their designers. The Tiger was the third generation of Starfury, and represented a far superior craft to the earlier models and was the match of most anything in the League or the Narn and Centauri forces.

The Tiger fury had the same upright cockpit of the earliest Starfury designed to help the pilot better cope with G-forces, the top generation flight suit giving the average pilot a tolerance of over twenty G's in normal conditions. Two powerful thrusters were mounted on the centreline extending behind the cockpit and ending in large steering vanes looking like metallic petals surrounding the engine nozzle, each vane projecting a magnetic field to help vector the ion stream from the main engines. However the biggest innovation in this design was the wing arrangement, set up in a 'X' configuration sprouting from the main body each wing held a secondary thrusters assembly on its tip where the secret of the fighters success lay. The Thrusters were mounted much further away from the Furies centre of gravity than any League fighter, and this gave it more leverage when acting to turn or spin the fighter making it the most agile fighter in service, with only the Dilgar Thorun a possible contender.

Another major advantage the Earth Alliance had was firepower, managing to somehow provide a pair of powerful plasma pulse cannons for the little fighter which gave it a punch much tougher than an unwary opponent would expect. The fighter also had options to take missiles on its lower wings, though in the field such weapons were rarely carried. Max was confident that if trouble should show up his fighter would keep him safe and ready for payback, but for all its abilities the Tiger was already outdated. Before leaving Max had managed to get a look at the specifications for the Alliance's brand new class of Starfury, the Nova. It was probably the most radical design since the original Furies of the last century, and the performance characteristics had made him green with envy. They were still few and far between, most ending up on Dreadnoughts and flagships first while the bulk of Earth Force kept its Tigers for a while longer.

Max turned the controls, the fighter spinning of all three axis' as it came around and fell in beside the squadron leader.

"Max." Freeman said.

"Yes sir?"

"Stop showing off Max."

Max grinned again, he couldn't help himself. "Yes sir."

The shuttle was distinctly cramped, especially for troops in full combat gear and Garibaldi cracked his elbow on the door frame as he entered the vehicle, forcing a curse from him. Embarking in zero gravity was not unlike getting a square peg into a round hole, and Garibaldi was not the only one to end up with bruises in the process. He could have sworn he heard titters and giggles from the flight crew at the shuttles head.

"Get in your crash seats." Sanchez was the last onboard, moving through the door with grace and avoiding any painful encounters. "Strap yourselves in good and tight, Captain DeVierre has decided we should treat this like an exercise, we will therefore be practising a full combat drop."

The Platoon groaned, no one was looking forward to one of those.

"I knew you'd like it." Sanchez grinned. "Sergeants, check your squads restraints, we don't want anyone escaping while we're dropping at ten G's"

A combat drop was a very intense experience, in order to get the shuttle from orbit to ground as quickly as possible the craft did not simply glide down from orbit, rather it dropped its nose to the ground and burned its main engines physically racing for the surface, at the last possible moment pulling up and levelling off in the low atmosphere, sometimes at less than a thousand feet above ground. There was a saying that every drop left you two inches shorter, and that the first experiments with orbital insertions had caused the unfortunate crews to break every bone in their bodies. Garibaldi didn't really believe those stories, this would be his third high speed drop and while he didn't relish the experience it was at least over quickly.

Sosobowski tugged on his restraints, then took the seat opposite. Once again Garibaldi was close to the cockpit with a reasonable view outside though for the drop itself he wouldn't have anything to focus on. Sanchez took the seat beside him and nearest the cockpit and nodded to the flight crew, who went into final pre launch checks.

"Private Garibaldi," Sanchez said. "As I understand it its your turn for the in flight entertainment."

Sanchez had allowed members of the Platoon to select a piece of music for the unit to listen to whenever it was setting off on a mission, the last time Private Tucker had picked the classical 'Ride of the Valkyries' for their drop during the most recent exercise, and a trooper from second squad had picked a recent pop hit the time before that, which had resulted in him buying a round of drinks to drown the shame. Garibaldi had needed to pick a couple of decent songs, and as a connoisseur of all things twentieth century he reckoned he had the perfect tunes.

"Ready when you are sir." He thumbed on his helmets data storage system, usually it held orders, maps and other intel downloaded from a central archive but had more than enough free space for a couple of songs. It would be transmitted to the Platoons headphones within their helmets, though if like Sergeant Sosobowski anyone disapproved they could simply turn to a different channel, though most of the unit were curious to see what ended up being picked.

"Alright Gropos," the pilot called back. "We're on our way."

The shuttle dropped from the hanger bay, a separate location to the fighter racks but in the same approximate area of the ship. They were travelling in a Hades class assault shuttle, a slightly stretched version of the standard atmospheric shuttle and outwardly very similar, though it had additional armour for protection and a plasma pulse cannon similar to a Starfury's main armament. It adjusted course slightly, then began its journey to the planet.

"Alright Private, lets hear it." Sanchez smiled, knowing the penalty for a poor song was a round of drinks when they got home.

Garibaldi activated the feed, and straight away a loud guitar rock song with a decent beat began playing on the headsets.

"What did you pick?" Sanchez wondered. "I haven't heard this before."

"Its from the 1960's," Garibaldi answered. "Jefferson Airplane, called 'Somebody to Love', from the old United States."

"Pretty good Private." He found himself tapping along to the beat.

"Wait until you hear the next one sir, called 'Paint it black' from the same era." Garibaldi smiled. "Thought it was appropriate."

Garibaldi settled back, from the cockpit window he saw a pair of Furies from the _Persephone_ take escorting positions along side and in the far distance watched a cluster of brightly coloured ships orbiting the planet. He took a few breathes and mentally prepared himself for the drop itself, taking a moment to revel in the old music and think a few happy thoughts of home and family, the song bringing up more than a few memories itself of childhood afternoons listening to the classics station on local radio in Boston.

"Two minutes." The pilot informed them from the comfort of his G suit. "I hope you haven't had lunch."

Garibaldi shared an awkward glance with his squad, remembering the unappealing pouches of nutrition they had consumed just a few minutes earlier. This had the potential to be very messy.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 15

Dilgar first Strike fleet, Hyperspace.

"We divide, we conquer." Jha'dur shrugged. "It is that simple."

Captain An'jash gave her a quizzical look. "That is your plan Warmaster, four words?"

"Why not, not every battle plan has to be written in volumes, the simple plans are often the best." Jha'dur smiled thinly. "The Brakiri are an interesting foe, they are skilled, they have ships and forces well balanced for offence or defence. They are well skilled and motivated, and ton for ton their ships are tougher than ours. Fighting the Brakiri should be our greatest challenge, but it won't be. You know why? Divide and conquer."

An'jash sat back, staring across the table at the Warmaster. They were technically off duty but An'jash had been intrigued to know whether or not Jha'dur had laid plans to take the war to the Brakiri, her answer had been fairly unexpected.

"I don't fully understand Ma'am."

"Its simple, their weakness is not in their ships or tactics, but in their culture." Jha'dur said. Most Warmasters did not deign to talk to subordinates, let alone make casual conversation about their future battle plans, but Jha'dur was different and it was important to her to make sure her officers had a bond with each other and with her to guarantee their loyalty and willingness to obey seemingly random orders based on no more than faith. For Jha'dur it was like being a teacher, thou her brother joked that she just liked the sound of her own voice.

"Brakiri society is based on corporations, their government and military is owned by various companies each more concerned with their own profits than they are with working together. There is jealousy, there is rivalry, there is betrayal. Its all very delicious." Jha'dur grinned. "We will exploit these divisions in our attack, we make sure that they are so busy confronting each other they do not confront us until it is too late."

"You want to try and sow some discord before we arrive?" An'jash wondered.

"There are two main companies handling Brakiri defence, Ak Habil builds and operates the main Brakiri ships of the line while Ly Nakir handles carriers and Fighters. Together they form a well rounded combat group, but separated they are meat for the wolves. I will leak evidence that one of the companies is in league with us, that they are collaborating in exchange for profit. It should divide them at this crucial moment before we attack and mean their planning of a defence is incomplete when we arrive."

"It will be hard to make them believe us, what about evidence?"

"As a matter of fact it will be very easy, in the past they have openly fired on rival companies for far lesser reasons. All we need to do is prevent them working out a joint fleet plan, then we can pick off their capital ships with fighter waves and destroy their carriers with our cruisers. All too easy."

"And if it doesn't work?" An'jash asked.

"If it doesn't work we do it the old fashioned way. We outnumber and out gun them, and while they have better weapons on their ships our hulls pack more onto them. The advantage lies with us, not the Brakiri."

A beep signalled there was an incoming message.

"Go ahead." Jha'dur instructed.

"Warmaster, our scout force has reached Tirrith." A bridge officer reported.

"Understood, send the go orders. They will scan the area, send back data and then disrupt enemy movements until the main force arrives."

"Very well Warmaster."

Jha'dur relaxed again. "We need Tirrith as a base, its at a vital strategic hub and makes an excellent jumping off point for future attacks. The Brakiri are the last of the major League powers unengaged, the Hyach are formidable and the Markab fierce fighters, but the Brakiri have the biggest economy in the League, and if we can destroy them it is only a matter of cleaning up. Nothing and no one will have the will or the strength to stand against us."

Tirrith, Independent Star System

Garibaldi was quite sure his heart had exploded. The atmospheric drop had been the worst one yet, the shuttles pilot clearly not very experienced at this particular manoeuvre had pushed it a little too hard and given his passengers a stern shot of gravity which none of them would forget in a hurry. Even the usually calm Lieutenant Sanchez was looking annoyed. As his senses returned Garibaldi became aware of clouds outside the cockpit and a deep blue sky, it was a hugely welcome sight.

"Listen up." Sanchez croaked, he coughed a little and then spoke clearer, his voice carried from helmet to helmet. "We're putting down on the edge of a refugee camp. Deploy by the numbers, secure a perimeter around the shuttle and get a snap shot of the land. Once we're done first squad sets up the command post and sentry guns while second covers, then second unloads the cargo while first squad covers. Only when everything is set up do we start handing out supplies. Any questions?"

There was no response, it all seemed nice and simple and fitted well with their training.

"This is real." Sanchez said. "We don't know how the natives will react so keep your act tight, they are friendly to us but desperate times make people do stupid things, so keep yourselves alert and cool."

Garibaldi felt G forces again, this time tugging him forward indicating the shuttle was slowing.

"Alright straps off." The Lieutenant led by example, taking off his seat restraints and grabbing onto handles overhead. The Platoon did the same thing, checked their equipment and their uniform seals, then powered up their combat sensors and dropped their helmet visors down. The shuttle perceptible rocked as its vertical thrusters engaged, and Garibaldi's stomach lifted as if he was on a rapidly dropping elevator, which was essentially true.

"Remember your training." Sanchez reminded them. "Watch for trouble, and watch for your squad mates."

The shuttle touched down with remarkable gentleness, especially considering the pilots less than impressive drop into the atmosphere. Before the engines even powered down the door was dropping and the Platoon raced out of the shuttle two at a time, splitting up and running a dozen yards before dropping to their knees and scanning for targets. Every member of the Platoon made it out flawlessly and created a loose circle around the shuttle, finding no obstruction or hindrance to their deployment.

"We're clear!" Sergeant Sosobowski stated. "Area secure."

Upon confirmation the shuttle switched off its engines and popped open its cargo doors and exposed the mobile command post gear and a few tons of food and supplies concealed within. Sanchez moved off to try and find who was in charge of the camp while first squad began to unload the vehicle.

The camp was in a few large meadows of lush green grass, now mainly covered in tents and simple shelters filled predominantly with Abbai refugees and a number of small ships and shuttle craft they had used to arrive here. There was a constant droning noise as more ships passed over carrying further refugees to the growing camp, and there would be an occasional fighter patrol fly overhead from the local military base. It looked decidedly rushed, and the lack of a strong Tirrithan presence seemed to underline how unprepared the planet was, Garibaldi was more convinced than ever that they were doing good, but he'd still have preferred to be elsewhere. He banished such pointless anxieties, and instead focused on setting up the Command post a few hundred yards from the shuttle, taking the impressive communications gear and sentry guns in their packing cases with the rest of the squad under Sosobowski's watch.

Freighter _Space Race_

"Well that's pretty cool." Paul grinned. "When did it get here?"

"About ten minutes ago." Toby said "While you were heading back from the station, did you get the parts by the way?"

"Yeah, we'll take Jors planet side to pick them up, make sure they're the genuine article." Paul replied, still more focused on the sensor readings. "An Earth force cruiser, there's a sight for sore eyes."

"She's the _Persephone_." Jenny had joined them when news of the arrival had gone around, it had generated much interest in the alien ships covering the evacuation of their citizens from Tirrith. "She sent a shuttle down to the surface but that's about it, had a few words with traffic control and then parked just over there, far enough away to keep a discreet presence."

The planet was turning into a cross section of the galaxies naval forces, the addition of the Earth force ship meant only two races didn't have ships orbiting Tirrith, the Narns and the Dilgar. Paul believed neither group would be welcomed here, but the issue was whether or not the warships would actually do anything if trouble showed up.

"Think we should say hi?" Toby asked. "Let them know there's an Earth ship here?"

"Nah, let them do their job." Paul answered. "If trouble breaks out we'll move closer to it, I'd feel better sheltering behind an Earth cruiser than I would behind a League ship."

"They've probably already read our transponder." Jenny stated. "They know we're here."

"Out there." T'Koth suddenly entered the conversation. "That's got to be our fuel."

Paul squinted and saw a tanker ship heading their way, a series of long pressurized tanks running along its narrow hull marked with bright warnings, which he guessed would also attract every malicious Dilgar pilot for miles around if it came to a fight. He buried the thought deep down and kept his mind on the facts, not speculation. With luck they'd be gone within a day.

"T'Koth, ask them to come along side and begin transfer immediately, meanwhile I'll get the shuttle fuelled up for our parts run." Paul began to head out of the flight deck. "And Toby, keep an eye on that Earth force ship."

"Hey Captain," Toby said in alarm. "We have energy readings on the edge of the system, looks like jump points."

Paul's expression instantly hardened, only military ships had their own dedicated jump engines, they were usually too expensive for all but the most opulent civilian vessels. "Which side of the system, Are they coming in from Brakiri space or Abbai territory?"

"Abbai sir." Jenny said formally, it was very rare for anyone to say 'sir' to Paul, it didn't put him at ease.

"Military ships from the Abbai sector." He sighed. "No prizes for guessing who they are."

"This is just too much!" Toby exclaimed. "Where do we have to go to escape these guys!"

"Stay focused." Paul spoke confidently and decisively. "T'Koth, fuel. Make sure they don't bolt and run, shoot out their engines if you gotta."

"Demin won't like that." the Narn said. "But I will."

"Jors and I are going planet side, we still need the regulators for the engines, we'll be back before all hell really breaks loose." Or at least he really hoped so. "This is probably just a scouting group, could be months before they attack, the Abbai are still resisting. We'll be quick, but if a fleet shows up, just try to get away."

"We're not going anywhere without all the crew." T'Koth said bluntly. "And if anyone tries they'll wake up in a storage locker."

Toby shifted a little uneasily, caught in conflict between his loyalty to his friends and his desire to run right now.

"Besides, without the parts hyperspace travel will be dangerous." Jenny added. "Its safer to take our chances."

"Well, don't take too many." Paul nodded. "We'll be back in no time."

"Watch yourself down there Captain." Jenny said with real sincerity. "We've been through too much to lose it here, all of us have."

He smiled in return at the young woman, she was the newest crew member coming onboard just before they took their jobs in the Abbai sector but after all their trials and tests she was a fully paid up member of the _Space Race_ crew and Paul trusted her totally as a friend and a skilled weapons and manifest officer.

"We'll be quick, then we get the hell out of here and imagine none of this ever happened."

"Amen to that." Jors spoke, newly dressed and ready.

"Alright people, stay clear of the firefight and watch that Earth force cruiser." Paul once more began to leave. "And try not to get the _Race_ shot up any more."

Brakiri Cruiser _Reaver_

Ambassador Brocat stepped onto the wide bridge deck amid a chaotic scene, officers were running to and fro bearing reports and data while operators at the banks of consoles cycled through a series of sensor readouts, communication channels and combat information. Amid it all was Admiral Dokan busily peering over the shoulder of one of the sensor officers. To Brocat it was like a busy morning on the planetary stock exchange, the type of organised panic he felt oddly at home with and expected that despite the running around this crew was still in control of their vessel and its five sisters.

The force had been deployed to cover the evacuation of Brakiri nationals from Tirrith just in case it was next on the list of conquests for the Dilgar Imperium, it was also something of a show of strength and pride with six _Avioki_ class heavy cruisers far too big a force for such a simple job. The Brakiri were aware that the Dilgar could be emboldened by their success against the Abbai, and that they might be tempted to extend their war to engulf Brakiri space, though most of the Krona didn't see any reason for that to happen. As a precaution it was stepping up shows of military might, the six tall cruisers were a sign of that, as was the increased will to finish the massive dreadnought _Corumai_ which had been only partially built for nearly a decade and was something of an embarrassment circling homeworld.

"Admiral." Brocat announced as he walked across the bridge, avoiding the junior officers. "What's happened?"

"A Dilgar combat patrol." Dokan answered gruffly, as a fairly well respected member of the very powerful Ak Habil conglomerate Dokan was often entrusted by his superiors with these type of high profile missions, he had shown almost as much tactical skill as he had political skill and was rightly considered a dangerous opponent. "Standard formation, not much of a threat to us."

Brocat took a look at the same data Dokan was reading, it showed two large Dilgar ships and three smaller escorts. "They're making a reconnaissance run?"

"Most likely, could be general intelligence gathering or it could be a prelude to invasion." Dokan said. "Either way our orders are clear, at the first hint of Dilgar ships we are to leave and not take any provocative action."

"Did we get all our people off planet?" Brocat checked, his main worry was leaving people behind who would be taken by the Dilgar and never seen again. Some of the things he'd heard from Alaca and Balos made even his warm blood turn to ice.

"We think so, a lot wanted to stay and guard their business interests from looters, but in the end we persuaded them to leave." It had come down to offering them insurance against disaster and theft, something no real insurance company would ever do with a full scale war one jump away. The Krona wasn't going to be happy. "The last shuttle is just docking."

Brocat kept a firm watch on the Dilgar cruisers, they were lurking just beyond weapons range conducting active scans of the orbital defences and methodically mapping everything in local space. The Tirrith authorities were trying to open a channel with them but to no effect, the Dilgar simply ignored them and continued their task, painting the Brakiri task force with active sensors but taking no hostile action.

"They're just taking a look." Dokan confirmed.

"What about the other ships, any movement from them?"

The Admiral took a quick look at a neighbouring sensor screen. "There are two Markab gunships on alert nearby, the Centauri cruiser is still in orbit taking on its citizens, looks like they're getting ready to go. The Earth cruiser is holding station, and the Vree are already heading for the gate."

"Lets wait and see what happens." Brocat stated. "We should get an idea what these Dilgar are like, I've never seen them up close before."

"If we have our citizens onboard then our mission is done." Dokan cautioned. "We should leave now."

"We aren't in any danger." The Ambassador smiled. "We'll wait a while longer, call it curiosity on my part and finding out about the enemy on yours."

"The Dilgar our not our enemy Mr Ambassador." The Admiral pointed out.

Brocat did not answer, he'd noticed the Dilgar ships moving on the planet. "What are they doing?"

"Reading an energy spike," the officer at the console reported. "Weapons fire!"

"Whom are they firing on?" Dokan asked quickly.

"The freighters in orbit, refugee ships from the Abbai front."

"Wait, they're firing on refugees?" Brocat gasped. "Why?"

"Its not our business." Dokan said. "Helm, come about and inform the fleet we're leaving."

"We can't leave yet, we have to do something about the Dilgar!" Brocat demanded. "Open a channel, tell them to stop immediately or…"

"Mr Ambassador." Dokan cut him off sternly. "This is my ship, and on my ship I give the orders. We have fulfilled our mission, we have orders to leave when the Dilgar show up, and I am in the process of executing those directives. Now stand aside and let me do my job, or you will be escorted to your quarters."

"Admiral, as a League member we have a responsibility to…"

"As you wish." Dokan sighed. "Security, take the Ambassador to his stateroom."

"You can't be serious!"

"We won't be getting involved in somebody elses war."

"Thousands are dying out there!" Brocat insisted. "Do something, you have six cruisers! This is the only force that can make a difference!"

"Thousands of Abbai, not Brakiri." Dokan said coldly. "My orders are clear, Navigation, initiate jump sequence, set your course for home."

"Don't do this Admiral, don't abandon our responsibility to the League, to our fellow sentients!" Brocat shouted as the guards began hauling him away. "Don't turn your back on this like so many have! You know those ships are from Jha'durs fleet, I read the sensor logs!"

Dokan turned away from the Ambassador, he wasn't one to let emotion get to him. He looked stonily on the flashes of weapons fire.

"Its Jha'dur coming here!" Brocat continued shouting. "She's destroyed so much already, she will do the same here!"

Brocat was lead from the door.

"Wherever she goes, Death walks with her!" he yelled, the door sliding shut on an uncaring Dokan. "Death walks with her!"

_EAS Persephone_

The bridge crew were totally silent, a quiet born of stomach churning horror. It was difficult to believe that the newly arrived Dilgar ships were firing on the refugee ships crowding orbit and the reality hadn't quite caught up with the men and women on duty, it was like their brains were idling in neutral as they tried to process the images.

"Why would they do that?" Commander Philips spoke quietly, her hushed tones reaching out in the silence. "They aren't any threat."

"Psychological warfare." DeVierre said coldly. "They want to scare their enemies, make them afraid to fight. They want the defenders to lose hope."

"It'd just make me angrier." Weapons officer Singh shared his feelings, his voice clearly having a hard edge to it. As the realization settled the crews shock began to give way to anger. Everyone had heard the rumours of Dilgar brutality, now it was confirmed.

"Captain, the Tirrithan defence force is moving to engage." Philips reported. "Reading two light destroyers and some patrol ships."

"Chances of success?" DeVierre asked, wanting to know if the Tirrithan navy could stop the attack. Philips shook her head.

"Captain," the comms officer piped up. "The Tirrithan central command is asking for help, they want all ships in orbit to protect the convoy."

"Any response?"

"Well sir, the Brakiri fleet just jumped to hyperspace." Philips scorned. "Looks like only the Markab are responding, but we don't know what they are saying."

"Could be telling them to stop bothering them?" Singh suggested.

"Not the Markab," DeVierre said. "They are honourable, I think they'll fight in this situation."

"Their government didn't seem keen to get involved in the war." Philips said.

"No, but they are highly religious and I don't think they'd turn their back when the battle is happening right in front of them."

"And what about us sir, what do we do?" Philips asked on behalf of the crew who were all wondering the same thing. "Do we help?"

"Our orders are to leave." DeVierre said. "We should recall our troops on planet and head back for Earth space."

"Yes sir." Philips said, recognizing that as professional naval officers they had to respect their orders no matter how difficult they seemed. She really did not want to abandon the refugees, but taking on a Dilgar force was politically and militarily unwise.

"But as it would take a while to recall the troops and we can't leave until then, I think we should try and resolve this situation diplomatically."

"Diplomatically sir?" Philips frowned.

"Yes, we'll talk to them with a smile on our face and a plasma cannon in our hands." DeVierre raised an eyebrow. "This could be considered a breach of orders, does anyone wish to protest?"

The bridge remained silent.

"Ready for orders Captain." Philips said with a hint of a smile, DeVierre was a good man, he cared for his crew and his duty to Earth force, and part of that duty was protecting the innocent from unwarranted aggression. This is what they joined Earth force for, they were far from home and isolated, but each knew it was the right thing to do. If they left they would never be able to look at themselves in a mirror again.

"Very well." The Captain nodded, feeling immeasurable pride in his crew. "Helm, move s toward the convoy. Sound general quarters and go weapons active, but do not, I repeat, do not target any vessels until I order it." He shifted in his seat as the ship began accelerating. "Get our fighters out of the hangar and watching our back, make sure the Tirrithans know we're on our way and then open a channel to those Dilgar bastards."

The _Persephone_ came to life, its engine banks slowly powering up with dull red energy growing ever brighter as the ion drives began hurling exhaust from their nozzles. Across the ships hull the heavy weight Plasma turrets began to charge, performing quick rotations and elevations to make sure their turrets were fully operational and obstruction free. The cruiser also mounted particle cannons, two large weapons in turrets at the ships sides and three smaller guns at the top and bottom of the ships distinctive conning tower. As far as Earth force ships went the _Persephone_ had a powerful and balanced armament of simple but effective weapons optimised for close range engagements. Earth Alliance technology had only recently begun to implement longer ranged weapons such as laser cannons and to date the weapons were still too large to fit on anything smaller than a Dreadnought, most of the navy had therefore trained to close the range before opening fire with concentrated short range fire, the _Persephone_ and her tactics were designed to fire on one target at a time with all the ships heavy weaponry and overwhelm them quickly before taking too much damage. The great secret of this tactic was the interceptor grid, Earth Forces unique system which would keep the fleets safe from long range enemy fire long enough to close the range and deliver a significant volume of plasma based retribution.

"Fighters away." Philips said. "They are moving into position."

"Any response from the Dilgar?" DeVierre asked.

"Nothing yet." She answered. "They are still firing on refugees, and a Tirrithan gunship just went down."

DeVierre cursed under his breath. He wanted to get in there and make the Dilgar stop, and he had no objections to using force on a race that fired on refugees, but as a Captain he had to be aware of his political responsibilities. Firing on a Dilgar ship, even in these grim circumstances would be unacceptable to his superiors, it could trigger a full scale war between the Alliance and the Dilgar which nobody wanted, and it would certainly cost him his command and probably see him in jail. He had to find a way to save these people that didn't cause a war, a seemingly impossible conundrum.

"Helm, set a new course, I want you to put us right in the middle of those two fleets."

"Aye Captain." He replied without question, the trust the crew had for DeVierre was unshakeable, and the Captain could only hope it was as well placed as they did.

"We will try and break up the fight." He explained. "Present a barrier to their guns forcing them to break off. Then we will see if they want to talk."

"One question sir," Philips raised her point. "What if they don't break off and decide to force us out of the way?"

"That's what interceptors are for." DeVierre replied calmly. "Our rules of engagement are to use whatever force is necessary to escape, and if it comes to it we will do just that. To protect the refugees we must protect ourselves, be prepared ladies and gentlemen, we might be heading into a fight."

Harpy flight held their six ship formation as the _Persephone_ changed its heading, driving right for the Dilgar raiding force.

"The old man isn't going to try and fight them is he?" Max questioned.

"I don't think so." Freeman answered from the lead plane. "Its just brinkmanship, he's trying to force them to back down."

"You think they will? I don't get the impression that they're the type to just walk away."

"The Captain knows what he's doing." Freeman said plainly, clearly wanting to end discussion of the subject. "Now, heat 'em up but don't go active on your tracking system. The Dilgar might try and spook us but don't take the bait. Fire on the Captains orders only, and lets hope it doesn't go that far."

Max shrugged, then brought his cannons to ready status. The Dilgar were probably the biggest challenge in the galaxy for a pilot, they had tough fighters and he guessed by now battle hardened pilots, if he wanted an exhilarating duel it would have to be with a Dilgar opponent. He was already imagining a contest of agility and nerve as he kept his fighter between a helpless freighter and a marauding Thorun, he didn't expect to go into battle but found himself not really afraid to do so.

"Heads up," Freeman called. "Fighters at twelve, squadron sized, keep an eye on them."

Max regulated his breathing and felt himself tense up, the _Persephone_ was inside weapons range now and while the Dilgar still ignored them it wouldn't be for much longer before they had no choice.

"This is it." Philips said. "Crossing the firing arcs now."

DeVierre dared not even breathe, he watched the displays as Dilgar weapons fired past his bow, still tearing into the Abbai refugee ships. A dozen vessels had been destroyed in the attack, countless refugees murdered in the time it took to reach here but all that was going to stop right now. Weapons fire continued even as the _Persephone_ entered the line, two or three plasma bolts whizzing by just feet away from the hull causing a few sharp breathes around the bridge. DeVierre had the distinct impression the Dilgar were toying with them, trying to make them blink with the close misses and he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him take evasive action. The cruiser came to a halt within the lead Dilgar ships main firing arcs, and was relieved when the ship ceased fire.

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere." He said cheerily in an attempt to ease the tension. "try and open a channel again."

"Still no response." The comms officer said in frustration. "But that cruiser is talking to someone else, getting a lot of chatter."

"Probably getting new orders from command." DeVierre frowned. "Question is are they getting permission to shoot us or orders to withdraw."

"Hard to say, their signals are encoded." Philips commented. "I'm recording what we get, maybe the intel guys will find it useful."

"Captain, I'm seeing an energy spike." Singh shouted.

"From the ship?" DeVierre spoke fast, preparing for an attack.

"No sir, jump points!"

DeVierre watched the main monitor as sensors recorded two more scouting fleets arriving, giving the Dilgar six large warships and nine frigates in the system. The Frigates began to circle around the _Persephone_ and make for the convoy again, the refugees were fleeing but they had no chance of outrunning the Dilgar raiders. Two large ships were focusing on the nearby Markab gunships while the four remaining vessels including three cruisers brought their attention down on the _Persephone_ herself.

"They're trying to intimidate us." DeVierre stated. "Make no response."

"That lead cruiser's within two hundred klicks." Philips reminded. "Almost point blank."

"Are we getting any good info sensors?" the Captain checked.

"We've got some good profiles and readings on their weapons and comms systems." The answer came.

"I guess that's our intel gathering mission complete." Commander Philips noted. "How long can we keep this up?"

"Until the refugees can get clear," DeVierre said remaining neutral in his expression beneath the bushy moustache. "Either to the gate or the planet."

"Sir, the Centauri vessel just jumped out, it's just us and the Markab now."

"As long as those ships are staring us down they aren't killing civilians." DeVierre pointed out. "Keep us steady, if we tie up the big ships the Tirrithan navy might be able to handle the frigates."

"Captain, they're moving." Philips warned. "The lead cruiser is still on us but the rest are turning away, looks like they want to hit the convoy."

DeVierre swore, he couldn't play tag with fifteen separate ships. "Try and keep us between their largest ship and the convoy."

"Sir, we're being painted by active sensors!" Singh reported from his station. "It's the nearest cruiser."

The initial ship they had encountered was still fixed on them, now at less than 200 kilometres and still closing. The ship appeared well armed and was a little larger than the _Persephone_, her forward hull lined with sensor panels shaped like spikes and insect like mandibles curving forward like a gaping maw. She was an attack cruiser of the _Targath_ class though the Earth Force crew didn't have the class names of the Dilgar forces yet and was flagship of the raiding party. Slowly and deliberately she began arming weapons.

"She opening up gunports again, reading targeting sensors." Singh called out with a hint of nerves. It this range there was no chance it would miss.

"No response, don't make any moves." DeVierre said. "They have no reason to fire on us."

"The other ships are heading for the convoy." Philips said. "Shall we pursue?"

"Wait, see what this ship does." The Captain grimaced, he'd never been much of a poker player and these stakes were lethal.

"Gun turrets tracking." Singh warned. "She's aligning for an alpha strike."

"Hold position." DeVierre ordered. "Wait for them to blink."

"They still trying to intimidate us?" Philips asked, guessing they were doing a damn fine job.

DeVierre didn't answer, this wasn't right, if they wanted to scare them why were the other ships moving off?

"Weapons lock!" Singh yelled. "Energy spike, she's firing!"

"Interceptors, engage at will!" DeVierre barked. "Damn them to hell!"

The Dilgar cruiser engaged, a rain of bolter and pulsar fire heading for the Earth force cruiser with unfailing accuracy. The _Persephone_ responded quickly, its interceptor grid snapping around and firing on the barrage within a second of the engagement starting. Blue pulses raced out at exceptional speed and knocked down the largest plasma bolts, it was almost impossible to intercept the whole barrage so the guns went for the heaviest incoming fire and ignored the lesser rounds leaving the E-web and the armour to soak up the lesser impacts.

"Helm roll thirty degrees to port, open up the A-arcs!" DeVierre shouted, the ship rocking as a pulsar blast crashed into the forward hull. "Get me a firing solution with plasma cannons, fast as you can Lieutenant!"

"Holy…" Max tailed off, from his Fury's cockpit he had an unspoiled view of the _Persephone_ coming under fire. The other Dilgar ships ignored it still, two were engaging the Markab gunships while the rest headed for the refugee convoy.

"Harpy flight, lock and load!" Lieutenant Commander Freeman snapped in the headset bringing Max back to focus. "Enemy fighters going for the barn, lets get 'em first."

Max switched on the targeting system, the croaking whir of the computer powered up almost drowned out by the roar of the thrusters, the sound vibrating through the fighters structure. His display showed the image of the _Persephone_ in stark computer rendered green lines, and in red lines a unit of Dilgar fighters closing on the far side of the ship trying to take advantage of the ships defensive batteries being tied up by the strike cruiser.

"Weapons locked," Freeman announced. "Fox one!"

The lead Tiger fury sprayed blue energy pulses across the path of the Dilgar flight, blasting one of the fighters from space. Within a second Max also had target lock, an enemy fighter fixed in his gun sights. For a brief instant he did nothing, not quite understanding exactly what was unfolding, a few seconds ago he was on patrol, now he was about to actually open fire on another being, it was a strangely empty feeling. His training finally kicked in, and he fired his fighter twin linked cannons, along with the rest of the flight and shredded the Dilgar formation. They broke away from the sudden attack and tried to reform.

"Stay with them," Freeman ordered. "Finish it!"

The Furies couldn't match a Thorun for acceleration, but it took time for the Dilgar to build up velocity and the ranges were close enough to give the Earth force pilots a couple of shots first. Max lined up on the second target as it slowly pulled away and put another couple of bolts into its back, causing the fighter to cartwheel in a sudden brief fireball. Harpy flight kept a tight formation and finished off the last fighter in the enemy unit, the whole thing had to have taken less then twenty seconds but Max had lost track of time, he felt fully immersed in the moment, aware of every detail around him. It was a strangely heightened view of reality, a product of the brain reacting to extreme stress and more than a little discomforting but very useful.

"More fighters on their way." One of his colleagues, he didn't know who, called in warning.

"Swing right Harpy's." Freeman said calmly. "Meet them before they get close to our ship, engage at will."

"Main batteries locked!"

"Give 'em hell!" DeVierre roared, the Dilgar had fired on refugees and now his own ship without provocation, he was well within his rights now to take the gloves off.

The _Persephone_ had performed a sideways roll as its weapons found their target and now was aligned so its upper hull was facing the Dilgar warship. She brought her guns up to maximum elevation, the angle allowing every weapon to target the enemy, and on the order they fired. The plasma blasts were slow moving compared to the Dilgar weapons, but in their confidence the Dilgar crew had allowed themselves to enter optimal range for the Earth cruiser and were taken by surprise by the attack. After fighting Abbai and Drazi ships the Dilgar were expecting the Earth ship to be similarly armed, with a couple of anti ship weapons and the rest merely for defence, the various gun turrets were dismissed as point defence batteries and only the larger bow guns were noted as threats.

Plasma smashed into the Dilgar cruiser, its weak armour offering almost no real protection from the attack as round after round of super heated material melted vast areas of the cruisers hull. The cruiser put as much power as it could into the engines, realizing it had bitten off more than it could chew the vessel tried to run, but it was too late by now. It fired a few more salvoes from its ravaged hull which were quickly intercepted, and then fell apart as plasma blasted into its hull and burned out the inside decks and vital systems, in less than half a minute the ship was useless scrap.

"Got him!" Philips cheered. "Dilgar cruiser destroyed, getting reports of superficial damage to our ship."

"Excellent work my friends!" DeVierre offered praise without reserve. "A text book performance."

"Two Dilgar warships turning around from the main force, they're targeting us." Philips warned. "Sixty seconds until they're in position."

"Enough time for us to open a jump point and escape." DeVierre said solemnly. "We've completed our mission, we haven't violated our orders and we have a clear path home if we want to take it. But if we do, we condemn tens of thousands of refugees to death."

It was the hardest decision DeVierre could imagine, and he was positive the answer would define his life and his legacy. On the one hand he had a duty to his government and crew, he had valuable intelligence data and clear orders to get that information back home. He had been expressly told not to actively fight the Dilgar but to use only whatever force was needed to escape, which was exactly what had happened. If he went home now he'd be a hero, and in all likelyhood there wouldn't be a major inter stellar incident. But on the other hand if he left now he'd take the only capital ship defending the convoy over Tirrith out of the battle, and despite Markab help the Tirrithan navy would have no chance of saving the ships before they escaped.

"Fifty seconds until enemy are in position." Commander Philips reminded him.

"My friends, it is time to make a choice." DeVierre spoke gently. "We have done all that was needed of us, and we are within our rights to leave here and return to Earth. We are not bound by orders or duty to stay, we can jump out, circle back to pick up our people on the ground, and then go without further incident. No one would blame us."

The consoles beeped steadily, but no other sound was heard. Except for the steady breathing of the officers of the bridge staff.

"You all know what will happen if we leave, we're the only capital ship here, the only vessel that can hurt the Dilgar heavy ships. If we go, everyone in orbit dies. If we stay, maybe we can give them time to leave, maybe leave ourselves. Maybe not."

"Thirty five seconds Captain." His first officer reported.

"You are all department heads, you know the minds of the men and women under your command and speak for them." DeVierre said, looking to each one in turn. "This is not an order, it is a choice. We can go to hyperspace, avoid the Dilgar as they destroy the convoy and slip past to rescue our ground team, and then go home. Or we can stay and we can fight." He let the words hang for a while, gave them a few seconds to sink in. "This is not a chance for glory, it isn't a movie or a book, if we stay we will probably die, we're outnumbered and outgunned by a professional enemy who will show us no mercy. I can't tell you to fight these odds, it's a choice. Do we stay, or do we leave."

DeVierre could feel his heart thumping in his chest, he was terrified but he wasn't going to let it conquer him. If this was an Earth colony it wouldn't need a decision, he knew the crew would fight tooth and nail to save their own kind, but these were Abbai, not humans, and while he would die to protect the innocent without a clear direction from home he couldn't tell his crew to fight and die for something Earth didn't yet believe in.

"Captain," Lieutenant Singh from weapons was the first to speak. "We came all this way, and we swore oaths to protect those that need it. I say we stay."

"Stay." Pellow agreed from sensors. One by one each department head gave the same answer, each one chose to stand firm and do the right thing whatever the cost.

Commander Philips turned in her chair to face DeVierre directly, the middle aged man meeting her gaze warmly. "I know the crew would agree. There isn't one of us who'd leave these people to die." She smiled. "You taught us too well for that."

DeVierre had a moment of intense pride coupled with humility, an odd sensation which told him clearly that this was the right place to be, and that he was in the company of the finest people he had ever had the good fortune to meet.

"My friends, thank you." He said quietly, battling the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. "We have a job to do."

"Aye sir, enemy cruisers ten seconds out." Philips called, hands running over her control panel.

"All weapons primed and ready." Singh added. "Interceptors armed."

"Fighter units on our flank." Pellow called.

"Can we raise Earth Force command?" DeVierre asked.

"No sir, all communications jammed, we can't even get our troops on planet."

"If we survive we'll retrieve them in person, if not God be with them." DeVierre bowed his head slightly, it was his responsibility to keep them safe, a duty he didn't think he could manage. He hoped it was worth it.

"Enemy in range, firing."

Volleys of bolter fire straddled the _Persephone_, head on the Earth cruiser presented a relatively small target and was well covered by the interceptor batteries knocking down the incoming fire. The cruiser hit back, firing its particle cannons and piercing the hull of one of the Dilgar destroyers with its orange and red beam.

"Captain, two frigates on our starboard beam!" Lieutenant Pellow warned. "They're heading in fast!"

"Plasma cannons, track and fire!"

The two light Dilgar ships began firing, using plasma based weapons similar to the _Persephone's_ own arsenal but mounted on a much weaker ship. They made the mistake of closing the range and giving the Earth warship a perfect target. Interceptors stopped the worst of their attack, and return fire turned the front of one frigate to unrecognisable junk putting it beyond repair. The second passed by, peppering the upper hull with light weapons fire and leaving deep scoring as the _Persephones_ turrets swung around to keep firing, a lucky shot slicing into its drive system and causing a massive explosion which blew the attacker in half.

"Reading laser cannons on one of those heavy ships." Phillips shouted above the targeting reports. "She's ready to fire."

"Weapons, make that ship your priority," DeVierre barked. "Brace yourselves!"

The ships interceptors were excellent against plasma rounds, solid shots, missiles and even fighters but unfortunately could only stop laser fire if it was coming in exactly where the interceptor battery was located, in this case the Dilgar ship was firing off axis leaving the crew to trust in armour. The two red beams sliced into the ship, gouging out a deep rent in the ships right side and leaving the edges glowing with residual heat.

The _Persephone_ fired back, plasma rounds boring into the Dilgar destroyer and carrying away one of the laser assemblies. The range was too great for a decent strike and the plasma rounds lost a lot of energy as they travelled further through space meaning impacts at range were far less devastating to the target. The Dilgar crew had learned from the loss of the first cruiser and were keeping their distance, minimising the damage they took.

"Weapons fire is losing effectiveness." Singh said. "They're pulling away."

"They're trying to draw us after them." DeVierre pointed out. "Stay on course, our targets are the ships moving on the convoy."

"We've got incoming, Thorun squadron!"

"Deploy fighters." The Captain said. "Keep them close and redirect starboard interceptors to engage them, keep the port ones on weapons interception."

"On it." Philips replied, keeping the ship on mission.

Max put his Fury into a tight spin, amazed to see Dilgar bolter fire passing by almost close enough to touch. The offending Thorun raced past, clearly surprised by Max's violent turn and expecting to meet nothing but vapour and parts now ended up staring down a pair of Earth Force cannons. Max claimed his third kill, this one had been a little smarter than the first two but still suffered from extreme over confidence and hadn't believed Harpy fleet would actually put up a fight. After taking on League opponents the Earth Force units were quickly showing the Dilgar how careful training and motivation could tip the scales.

"Harpy flight, Fighters at seven o'clock low." Freeman drew their attention to a host of new targets. "Take them before they hit the ship."

The six craft spun and assumed their formation, each one set up to quickly cover its neighbour if necessary. They dove down and began firing at maximum range aiming to break up the enemy as much as destroy them. The Dilgar took some evasive action, but kept on target as the _Persephone's_ own guns engaged.

"Stubborn buggers aren't they?" Max commented.

"I noticed." Freeman agreed. "Watch our own incoming fire and close in."

Max increased thrust, the view from the cockpit was spectacular as the Dilgar fighters closed to short range and fired, trying to take out individual turrets on the _Persephone_. One Thorun took a hit at less than fifty metres, violently blasting it apart and sending debris showering backwards. Another was struck by a laser beam from its own side which continued down to put another hole in the Earth ship behind. In return the Particle cannons engaged again, the two side mounted turrets cutting into the weak struts joining the Dilgar destroyers main body to its engine pods and severing the ship. With an easy target now the plasma cannons concentrated on the drifting forward section of the destroyer and quickly put it out of the fight.

He turned the Fury in close, dropping behind a Thorun as it strafed along the cruisers hull. The Thorun must have seen his intentions and quickly snapped around, keeping its momentum but altering its orientation so it came to face Max while travelling backwards. He jinked sideways to avoid the attack, plasma bolts passing between his upper and lower wings before firing back. The Dilgar fighter rolled to avoid the first salvo, but the second hit it square on and detonated its power pack or fuel reserves.

He didn't even get time to relax, his computers warned of an enemy lock and he pulled on the controls, the stars blurring as the cockpit swung around ending up facing the _Persephone_. He raced for the ship hoping to use it as cover, wincing as a heavy bolter round slammed into the ships upper conning tower.

"Max, watch your six." Freeman said. "You've got two tails."

"I know, I know!" he gasped as he kept mobile, the first shots whizzing past.

"I'm almost there, just a while longer."

Max pulled the fighter up and passed over the _Persephone_, noting the pale grey hull was now getting more and more charred and pitted. He dropped over the far side in a ridiculously tight turn, then pulled a hundred and eighty degree snap spin and turned on his attackers. The first fighter that crested the hull got both barrels, the second turned wildly away and fell to Freeman's pursuit.

"Good move." Freeman complimented. "But we lost Jane, adjust the formation to a five ship 'V' and stay tight."

Max didn't feel the emotion he had expected, Jane Anson who flew Harpy 4 was a good friend, and the notion of never seeing her or sharing a drink ever again should have filled him with grief, he didn't understand why it didn't. He supposed it was a good thing, it wouldn't affect his concentration in battle at least, and he could dwell on it later. He increased speed and looked for a new target.

With help from the Tirrithan forces the Markab had overcome their opponents, though it had cost them one of the two gunships. That ship now struck the heavy cruiser engaging the _Persephone_, forcing it closer and into optimal firing range for the Earth force guns. The Plasma cannons shredded the weak armour and simple mass produced structure, eventually striking the jump engine and reducing the ship to debris in a massive explosion.

"Two capital ships left." Commander Philips coughed, the air on the bridge was smoky and acrid, a fused circuitry board the culprit. "The Tirrithans are engaging, but not doing too well."

It was an understatement, most of their fleet were patrol ships and light combat vessels, certainly not up to the task of taking on a true warship, let alone a small fleet. They thought well and had overwhelmed some of the frigates, but the last two cruisers were too much.

"How are we doing?" DeVierre questioned.

"One of the particle cannons is gone." Phillips said. "That last laser hit to port finished it, hull breaches across the forward section but nothing which is going to slow us down."

"And casualties commander?" he asked in a heavy voice.

"Seventeen missing sir." She replied solemnly. "And we lost pilot Anson."

He nodded grimly. "Understood, target the nearest cruiser and prepare to fire, we finish what we started."

The Dilgar cruisers abandoned the convoy and brought their attention to bear on the Earth force ship. They began advancing and distancing themselves from each other, aiming to hit the _Persephone_ from two sides at once. The remaining frigates also assembled and began to move for the Earth cruiser.

"Go for the ship to port." DeVierre said. "Get close and fire, Comms try and get the Markab ship to target to other one."

"Frigates and attack ships closing." Sensor officer Pellow stated calmly.

"Engage them at will," the Captain ordered. "But on my word put every gun to our targeted cruiser."

Laser fire bracketed the cruiser, one of the beams striking the engine module and destroying part of the power system. The hard working interceptors fired again, taking down the worst of the incoming fire but the volleys that sneaked past were beginning to add up, the ship was moving slower than before and the Energy web running over the hull to help dissipate some of the energy of incoming fire was growing weaker. The remaining particle cannon fired but missed its primary target, though another frigate fell to the plasma batteries.

"Coming into range for primary target." Singh shouted, the ships hull ringing with impacts that evaded the interceptors.

"Plasma cannons, take it down!" DeVierre ordered. He had to grab his chair as the ship listed, the sudden G force pulling on his restraints as the helm station positioned for a full strike. The main guns fired, close enough to do heavy damage to the cruiser. The Dilgar ship did not break away, but held its course and fired for as long as it could, the close range volley mainly bypassing interceptors and carving into the _Persephone's_ side. Sparks flew on the bridge as a near strike punched into the hull close by, flames swirled above the crew stations unhindered by gravity until the communications officer managed to reach an extinguisher and replaced flames with foam.

The Earth force ship was hit heavily, but managed to hold together unlike the Dilgar cruiser, its wreck joining the growing tally. The last Dilgar cruiser was on an intercept course with the _Persephone_, its turreted bolters exchanging fire with the last Markab ship and assorted Tirrithan vessels. It fired another salvo from its laser batteries that went wide, but as the range closed its accuracy would increase.

"That ship isn't slowing sir." Philips announced. "Its on a collision course."

"It wants to ram us?" DeVierre frowned. "Helm, I want you ready to make a very hard turn. Weapons, return fire."

The _Persephone_ drove on, its mission almost done. The Dilgar ships while formidable looking had proven extremely vulnerable to the cruisers weapons package and with their quick response times and training the human crew had held onto the initiative and forced the Dilgar to fight on unfavourable terms. It seemed the last Dilgar ship had given in to rage, after seeing its colleagues out manoeuvred and out fought by the slow moving ugly cruiser it had taken it upon itself to remove the pest and avenge its siblings. It fired its full arsenal on the _Persephone_, ignoring the smaller ships picking at its flanks.

The _Persephone_ met it blow for blow, both ships driving headlong at each other with every gun blazing. Each hit the _Persephone_ took, each system damaged or crew member killed was visited back on the Dilgar cruiser in full measure, the crossing energy between the ships dazzling to behold. The hulls on both ships were punctured and scorched, molten metal falling away in a glowing trail behind their paths like embers falling from a fire.

"Hold our course." DeVierre was leaning in his chair. "Hold fast!"

The Dilgar ship was a mass of flames, the plasma had ignited its atmosphere systems and the ship was jetting oxygen out of its structure across the molten forward sections. He guessed the _Persephone_ herself would be looking a poor state by now, but its heavy guns were still firing and every mile closer made them even more effective.

A laser beam crashed into the bow of the ship, taking out forward sensors and sending sparks jumping from Lieutenant Pellow and Commander Philips station, causing the first officer to yelp in surprise. The entire left side of the Dilgar ship was shorn off as a plasma round grazed past, tearing away the thin hull structure and blasting atmosphere out like a brief hurricane.

"Standby on course change!" DeVierre focused on the enemy, the Dilgar didn't give up, they were fanatical and smart, a very dangerous combination. But they weren't as smart as he was. "Hard to port!" the Captain called. "All batteries track and fire, interceptors, everything! Take it down!"

The wounded Earth cruiser turned sharply, its turrets still bearing on the Dilgar vessel. The enemy ship tried to follow the _Persephones_ course but ended up flying into a wall of fire, its already ruined hull providing no resistance to fire. The two ships passed by within a mile of each other blasting away with everything they had, the side of the _Persephone_ glowed with impacts as great chunks of metal were twisted away, it was too close for interceptors to work so they added their power to the broadside. Plasma shots burned the Dilgar cruiser, at such short range they were able to enter one side and pass clean through and out the other, it had no chance against that level of point blank destruction and fell silent, a powerless blackened hulk carrying on under momentum to join the rest of the raiding force in the grave.

"Target destroyed!" Singh yelled in triumph. "We did it, we got them all!"

"Send word through the ship!" DeVierre commanded. "Let them know how well they fought, and how proud they should be." He coughed a little, the air was still smoke heavy and the lighting was dimming probably due to severed powerlines. "Damage report?"

There was no replay. "Commander, how bad are we hit?"

DeVierre undid his seat restraints and pushed forward to the first officers station, grabbing hold of the console. Commander Philips did not react to his arrival, continuing to stare impassively at her screen.

"Louise?" he whispered and reached for her, his touch still prompting no response. A deep sadness assailed him, he wanted to deny it and wish his finest officer was just intensely focused on her job, but it wasn't real and fantasy had no place on a ship of the line. Gently he took her hand and searched for a pulse.

"Captain?" Lieutenant Pellow raised his voice. "You should see this sir."

DeVierre did not rush himself, he owed his friend that. He placed her hand carefully down, pushed a loose strand of her from her face, and then closed her eyes. "Bon soir." He added softly, then rose and made for the Captains chair.

"Captain sir, major energy readings." Pellow insisted.

"Commander Philips is dead, Lieutenant Singh will act as First Officer." DeVierre said flatly.

"Yes sir." The weapons officer answered, a note of surprise in his voice. They had all known and respected the Commander, secretly many had found her attractive, and her loss was like the heart of the ship being destroyed. It was the same as losing a part of themselves.

"Captain, Jump points forming on the edge of the system." Pellow reported, also sounding a bit more distressed than usual.

"Numbers Lieutenant?" the Captain had no emotion in his tone, he'd been as close to Philips as he was to his own grown up children.

"Hundreds sir, the Dilgar main fleet."

Sure enough DeVierre's panel showed up space holed by a wall of Vortexes deploying a full fleet of Dilgar warships, including Dreadnoughts and Gunships packing more firepower than the _Persephone_ could ever hope to stop. It had been for nothing, they had bought time for the refugees but not enough, some had made it to the gate but most wouldn't make it before this new vast force encircled them, and then Tirrith itself would fall. They had gained nothing.

"The enemy fleet is heading this way sir," Pellow read sombrely. "Our jump engines are down, interceptors at twenty percent capacity."

"Can we still fight?" the Captain asked quietly.

"Yes sir." Answered Singh.

"We can't run." DeVierre raised an eyebrow. "And we won't run. We have paid with our dearest to save these people for a few extra minutes, our friends gave their lives for that goal, and we will not make their sacrifice vain." He breathed deeply and centred his thoughts. "What we finally achieve in this battle is not as important as why we fought it, we may not save the lives of the refugees, but we have saved our souls by trying."

The Dilgar force began to spread out aiming to envelop the planet, combat units moved towards the battered Earth force cruiser and the last defenders.

"Captain, I'd guess this is the fleet flagship." Pellow said. "Its well escorted but only to the sides, if we take it head on we could have a chance."

"Then we will take it." DeVierre nodded. "This is reality, but we have done something few will ever achieve again. We fought well, and we fought for the right reasons, and our deaths will have some meaning. You have done everything duty required, and we die with our honour intact. No Captain had a better crew or a better ship. Lay in your course, best possible speed."

For the last time the Heavy cruisers engines burned into life, beside her the equally damaged Markab warship fell into position as did the five surviving fighters of Harpy flight. Together they began to advance, one tiny force of free ships against a thousand conquerors without hope and without failing. Fate may have abandoned them, as it had abandoned everyone who found themselves in Jha'durs path, but they would not accept that future quietly, they would not just accept death but force it to drag them down. They would stare the reaper in the face and try to beat him down because that was better than giving up. DeVierre knew his chances of destroying the famed Warmaster commanding this fleet were practically zero, but this battle had never being about doing the safe thing, it had been about doing the right thing.

The _Persephone_ and her crew raced without fear or hesitation into battle one more time, and never returned.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 16

Tirrith Independent Star System

Freighter _Space Race_

"Oh man we are so dead."

Paul gave Toby a glare. "Shut up, we need ideas not opinions."

None of the crew had anything to offer. Paul's original plan was based on them being able to get to the planet, pick up the spares, fix them and run for the gate before the Main Dilgar fleet showed up in system, he figured it would take about two hours which seemed like no time to him. Unfortunately the Dilgar weren't respecting his timetable and a thousand warships were now closing on Tirrith.

"Alright, try it another way." He said quickly, acutely aware that time was against him. "What advantages do we have?"

"Full tank of fuel." T'Koth prompted. "Enough to get all the way to Earth if we had to."

"The Dilgar won't be looking for us." Jenny added. "They'll be too busy bombing the planet and picking easy cargo ships, we're too small to be a juicy target."

"Plus we have no cargo which means we're running light and fast." Jors said. "And no passengers to worry about, just us."

"And on the negative side we have the Dilgar navy." Toby said in frustration. "They're blocking the jump gate and our only way out!"

"And the parts." Jors said. "We need the engine regulators."

"Can we leave without them, if we absolutely had to?" T'Koth asked.

Jors shook his head. "We need them to stop the engines burning out. In normal space its okay, we burn the engines for a second and just coast on momentum, but in hyperspace we need constant power or the gravity tides will pull us off beacon and that'll be all she wrote. We can't maintain steady power without a regulator."

"Can we pick one up from a wreck, save going to the planet?" Jenny wondered.

"We'd need a specific sized part, real hard to find with the variety of ships and Dilgar on our backs." Jors shook his head. "We need to get them from the planet. Now once we have them, it'll only take a couple of minutes to fix one up, we need one for each engine but we could navigate hyperspace on a single thrusters and I can fix the other three enroute."

"Well that's a plus, right?" Toby perked up.

"It'll still take too long to go get them and come back." Paul frowned.

"Then we're back to being dead." T'Koth shrugged.

"No." Paul smiled. "No, not yet. I gotta plan!"

"Is it going to get us out alive?" Toby checked.

"Maybe, better than just sitting here." Paul raised an eyebrow. "Its easy, we need the parts and we need a path to the gate, neither of which we can get right?" The crew nodded. "So we wait. We put the _Race_ on auto pilot and hide it in the asteroid belt over there, its only half a million miles from the planet. We shut down everything, even life support, and the Dilgar won't have a clue its there."

"Okay, so they don't find the _Space Race_, or our suffocated and frozen bodies after turning off life support." Toby pointed. "Small flaw in the plan there Captain."

"Not so, because we won't be on the _Race_, we'll be on the planet with the parts hiding until the Dilgar go away." Paul smiled. "They won't keep a battle fleet here for long, it'll go to hit someone else, they'll leave the ships to weak or too stupid for the front lines to guard this place and then we make our move. We go back to the _Race_, fix it and run for the gate, maybe sneak past in a Dilgar freight convoy. We'll think of something."

"That's a crazy plan." Jors said with a shrug. "But I got nothing, lets do it."

"You want us on planet as the Dilgar attack?" T'Koth asked. "We've seen what they do to planets Captain, and this fleet is the same one which virus bombed those Abbai and Drazi colonies."

"So we sit in our airtight shuttle until its time to go." Paul said. "it's safer than staying up here."

""Well, I'm sold." Jenny offered.

"Me too." T'Koth agreed.

"This is insane." Toby commented. "But okay."

"See people?" Paul clapped his hands. "We've gotten out of worse than this in the last month, grab your gear and hit the shuttle bay."

A few minutes later the _Space Race_ cargo shuttle was making its way for Tirrith. Paul gave a quick glance out of the window at his ship as its engines fired for a few moments on automatic to push the ship towards the local asteroid belt. Jors had set up the navigation system to burn the retro thrusters when it reached the edge of the belt and then to go dead, only to reactivate when it received the coded signal from the returning crew. With luck the Dilgar would be no wiser to its presence, and if they did spot it they would assume it was a derelict wreck, which Paul reflected wasn't too far from the truth.

The journey was quiet, the full attention of the crew was focused on the final minutes of the _Persephone _and her battle against the odds. It was a scene of great pride and great sadness for the human members of the crew, and even T'Koth appeared moved by the valour of the ship and its choice to fight. The usually talkative Toby remained silent as the firefight faded away and the Dilgar resumed their mission. They were a relentless people, nothing had managed to stop them yet, it seemed even Ssumssha, the most heavily defended location in known space was little more than a small set back to be removed in the fullness of time. The tide of their invasion was still rising, but Paul managed to see some hope in the desperate situation he found himself in, he'd seen a single cruiser from home turn a raiding party into smoking wrecks and he knew that Earth force could field a vast fleet of similar ships, and even more powerful units to lead them. The League were hard pressed, but if the Dilgar ever came to Earth space they would meet their match.

"Problem." Jenny said. The flight deck of the shuttle was very cramped, with Paul and Jors up front and Jenny behind monitoring sensors. T'Koth and Toby were a few feet further back with nothing to really do, the shuttle had no weapons and a moderate set of thrusters. "In fact five problems, Thorun fighters heading our way."

"Can we reach the atmosphere in time?" Paul looked out of his window, a series of small dots glinting in the distance.

"No, no way." Jors stated. "I have a plan B, but you're not going to like it."

"If it keeps us alive just do it." Paul said back, and a second later was pushed back into his seat as the shuttle turned.

"Dammit Jors, what the hell you doing!" Toby shouted.

"We can't out run them or out fight them, so I'll try and lose them in the convoy." The big Swedish man grunted.

Pauls eyes widened as the cockpit windows filled with fleeing Abbai ships slowly crossing their path. "Jors, you remember this is a cargo shuttle, not a Starfury?"

"Trust me." He smiled, then opened up the throttle.

The shuttle dropped down and barrelled straight for a huge Abbai liner, a frantic burst of comms traffic from the ship filling their frequencies but going unheeded. Jors edged the shuttle across its bow, coming dangerously close to a collision and then pulled around and raced along the liners underside forcing the crew back with the sudden G force. The Dilgar fighters had closed with them and seemed intrigued by the dirty looking shuttle, two of the Thoruns gave chase while the three others began firing on easier targets.

"There's a ship ahead." Jenny read from the sensors.

Paul guessed she meant the mile long ore miner filling his window which Jors was going head to head with. "Yeah Jors, ship ahead."

The pilot did not respond, he just kept driving headlong towards the mining ship.

"Jors, it isn't going to give way."

"How close are we?" Jenny looked up from her station and gasped at the sight. With impact a second away Jors rolled the shuttle and grazed past with a huge grin, the Dilgar fighters keeping a steady distance and looking for a clean shot.

"Jors, I paid for this shuttle, never do that again." Paul said through clenched teeth.

"Aw come on, don't say that wasn't cool!" Jors flung the shuttle past another freighter within inches of disaster. "You know this is cool! Did you see that!"

"Mostly I see the insides of my eyelids." Paul swallowed. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Sometimes, hang on." He pulled another tight turn, the Thoruns however had little trouble keeping pace, although they still didn't have a clean shot. "Although this could be a small miscalculation."

Paul opened his eyes and saw the bow of a Dilgar destroyer, a small fleet of Frigates surrounding it. He was about to utter an explicit curse when Jors threw the ship around and his breath was punched from his lungs. He dodged past an Abbai freighter which almost instantly exploded as the Dilgar warships began firing, not on the shuttle but the convoy it was sweeping around. Plasma bolts were ripping through ships on all sides of the weaving little craft and flames glowed on its hull.

"Ship on our port side, collision in five seconds!" Jenny shouted from sensors. Jors flipped the shuttle into a roll, ending upside down to his original orientation and just clearing a fleeing freighter. The hull of the ship was just a few feet from the cockpit roof drawing a stunned gaze from Paul, Jors was playing a dangerous game but so far it was paying off.

One of the liners ahead was struck by laser fire, a blast which would have damaged an Earth Force cruiser went clean through the unarmoured civilian ship without impediment, slicing fuel lines and igniting the unfortunate vessel. Burning fuel flashed into space and the shuttles path, covering its outer hull in liquid fire and clanging debris over its hull. Jors fought with the controls and kept them on course, dodging the twisted remains of the ships forward section as it passed them, its exposed girders reaching out like skeletal fingers.

""I don't want to be here Jors." Paul reminded his pilot. "Head for the planet please." He kept an even tone, but his heart was beating at a thousand thumps a minute.

"We're almost there." He answered. "Little bit more."

He dove past more twisted metal, the dogged fighters still on his tail. Carefully he lined up on a huge freighter already burning from earlier hits.

"Jors, sensors show another ship behind it, a Dilgar Frigate!" Jenny warned.

"I know, I have it on scope."

"We're going to pass very close to it."

"I hope so." The pilot grinned. "This will be something to tell your kids about."

He accelerated, rushing towards the big freighter, the Dilgar fighters finally holding course long enough to fire and doubtless enjoying the excitement of the chase. The shuttle passed beneath the vessel and shot out of the far side right in front of the Frigate which was busily cutting up the far side of the defenceless ship. He passed within spitting distance of the frigates bows, taking the gunners so by surprise by the time they even registered what had happened Jors was outside their gun arcs. If the gun crews were surprised to see Jors, the Thorun pilots were even more surprised to round the freighter in pursuit and come face to face with an armoured green wall blocking their path. The lead fighter flew straight into the ship punching a hole in its weakened side, but the second craft was quick enough to turn and avoid the obstacle forcing the pilot to black out with the force of the turn.

"Sneaky son of a bitch." Paul chuckled. "Now we're free to land."

"Not quite." Jenny sighed. "One of those fighters is still moving."

The surviving Dilgar pilot had recovered quickly from his blackout and was now gaining ground.

"Will we reach the atmosphere before he does?" Paul asked pointedly.

"Should do, but you know Dilgar fighters are atmosphere capable?" Jenny informed.

Paul used a colourful turn of phrase to indicate that was news to him.

"Ever seen an Earth Force combat drop?" Jors asked.

"yes I have." Paul answered, then paused. "Oh, no way…"

"We need to get down fast, and that's the quickest way." Jors shrugged.

"Yeah, in a MilSpec assault shuttle that isn't held together by fourteen years worth of field patches!"

"It'll be fine, just hold on." He enthused. "Oh, and the G forces are quite bad."

Before Paul could protest further Jors dropped the shuttle's nose and accelerated once more towards the planet. The front of the shuttle began glowing immediately, and within seconds had turned white hot and completely obscured the field of vision. At first the G force wasn't so bad, but as soon as they hit the atmosphere the shuttle bucked cruelly, throwing the crew back and forth against their restraints. Paul tried to yell at Jors, but couldn't speak under the intense conditions. Remarkably they were only pulling a fraction of the G force of a military drop, but without flight suits they were taking just as much punishment.

They didn't notice at first, but as the shuttle was forcibly slowing down and the friction lessened Paul noticed some bright energy bolts whizzing past outside. "That fighter still with us?"

"Yep." Jenny confirmed, the shuttle still rocking. "He's real close."

The jolting re-entry had been even more straining for the small fighter and the buffeting was throwing off his aim, but as they slowed to atmospheric speeds he was getting more accurate.

"Can we do anything about that?" Toby shouted from his chair.

"We throw you out the back and you nag the Dilgar to death!" Jors snapped.

The shuttle suddenly nosed forward and entered a twisting spin, warning lights filled the displays.

"He shot us!" Jenny yelled. "And he's still firing!"

The _Space Race_ shuttle twisted through the sky trailing thick black smoke, the Thorun still firing on it as it fell towards the planet. Another pair of plasma bolts hit the target and blasted off one of the stabilising wings, to the pilots eternal shock the twisted piece of debris ripped away from the wounded vessel and with a cruel twist of irony punched straight through the nose of the Dilgar craft, sending it spinning out of control and rapidly breaking up.

"I have good news and bad news." Jenny called. "Good news is the fighter is gone. Bad news is, well, the ground."

"Can you slow us down?" Paul asked Jors.

"I'm going to fire retros." The pilot said. "But its really going to hurt, and we'll still crash."

"Do what you can, everyone brace yourselves!"

Jors fired the retro rockets, and the sudden deceleration was far worse than to orbital drop. Paul was already blacking out when the ground met them and halted their descent.

Dilgar Dreadnought _Conqueror_.

"We are on schedule Warmaster, despite the small delay."

Jha'dur nodded at Captain Anjash's report, her mind dwelling on other issues.

"Bombardment vessels are ready Warmaster."

Jha'dur continued to stare calmly ahead.

"Warmaster?" her Captain asked again.

"I heard you, thank you Captain." Jha'dur spoke quietly. "Remove the outer defences first, then we can deal with the planet."

"With respect Warmaster, you seem more thoughtful than usual, is there a problem?" An'jash asked.

Jha'dur nodded slowly. "The battle we have just fought, it has raised a number of issues in my mind."

"Battle?" An'jash smiled her feminine voice growing more confident. "Hardly a battle Warmaster, more a massacre."

"It was a battle for them, a hard fought one and a well fought one."

"You mean that unknown cruiser which attacked us?" the Captain wondered.

"Not unknown, it was a human ship." Jha'dur corrected. "An empire on the far side of the League, we have no dealings with them."

"Why was it here?" An'jash prompted again.

"I don't know, and that concerns me." Jha'dur kept her voice low. "It had no reason to be here, and it had no reason to fight us. We have no immediate plans for the Earth Alliance and they are unconcerned with us. Why did it fight?"

"It must have had a foolish Captain." An'jash dismissed.

"A Captain who claimed three cruisers, two destroyers and four Frigates?" Jha'dur raised an eyebrow. "That is not a fools work, that ship took out five times its mass in our vessels and would have made it home if we hadn't arrived to stop it."

"It attacked us head on, going for the most powerful ship in the fleet." An'jash replied. "That is foolish."

"How so?" Jha'dur looked at her Captain. "If I ordered you to hold a world, and you were one ship against a thousand would you retreat or surrender? You cannot win, so what would you do?"

"I would fight and die well." She answered, recognizing Jha'durs point. "You think this Captain did the same?"

"He couldn't do anything else. So he made sure his last moments were as proud as he could make them." She gave a thin smile. "Admirable." The smile quickly faded "And dangerous."

"Will the humans retaliate?"

"They might." Jha'dur nodded. "This ship we destroyed, it was a _Hyperion_ class cruiser one of their main line ships, they have many, many more. They also have a ship which intelligence says even the Centauri battleships are wary of, and since when did the Centauri play coy about anything?"

"Never, unless they have a reason, like perhaps fear." An'jash was scornful of the decadent Centauri, they had a fine empire but grew soft, when the Dilgar had an empire of equal size they would not make that mistake. "These humans are threats?"

"Look what that single ship did." Jha'dur stated blankly. "Then imagine a fleet of ships even more deadly working in unison. Yes, these humans are a threat, more than the council gives them credit for. But fortunately they don't seem interested in galactic affairs, I doubt we'll see battle with them anytime soon."

"If they fight like this I'm in no rush to meet them." An'jash admitted. "Perhaps they aren't so foolish."

"Far from it." The Warmaster agreed. "This was a warning to us not to extend the war beyond our ability to fight it. We are already stretched fighting on three fronts, massing forces against the Drazi, the Brakiri and the Hyach. The humans are a mystery to us, and what little I've seen of them does not fill me with confidence." She frowned. "I want that wreck taken apart piece by piece, I want ships records, the Captains journal, private logs, personal items, books, vids everything. I want to know what made them destroy five of our heavy warships, I want to know how and I especially want to know why."

"What about standing orders to send all Intelligence to Warmaster Len'char and his command?"

"He can have it when I am done." She answered curtly. "And don't forget data recorders from our own ships."

"Yes Warmaster."

"You have the bridge Captain, remind our ships that we need the planet more or less intact. Use nuclear and biological weapons in precise tactical strikes only, any excessive destruction will be dealt with by me personally."

"I'll send the message." An'jash bowed.

"I am heading for my quarters to report on this development to the Supreme Warmaster, let me know when the ground forces are in position." She paused. "And Captain, make sure our Stormtroopers bring me samples of the native population."

Jha'dur turned and gracefully walked out of the bridge room, the last few minutes troubling her. She had fought resolute enemies before, and she had fought skilled enemies before, but to find an opponent with both qualities was rare. There was a chance this human ship was unique, perhaps the greatest vessel in their navy, but she could not deny the possibility that every human vessel would be this skilfull in war. The thought chilled her, and she had to know the truth.

Refugee camp.

"Just tell them to get in line." Garibaldi said in frustration, this was turning into a real mess.

The Platoon had unloaded the ration packs and split them into four equal crate loads which had then been set up a few hundred yards apart on the edge of the camp. Then the troops were supposed to break open the crates and slowly dish out the ration packs evenly among the nearest refugees who would form lines and wait patiently for their turn. That was what the manual ordered. Garibaldi had since concluded the manual was written by an idiot.

"Lieutenant sir," Garibaldi tapped his helmet microphone. "We've got a lot of people flocking this way."

"I hear you Private." Sanchez replied from the command post near the shuttle a solid half mile distant. "The translator has a few Abbai phrases, things like 'Form a line' and 'remain calm' so try and use them."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi sighed inwardly, he doubted they'd be in a mood to sit and wait for food.

"Just remember the three 'P's' Private," Sanchez continued. "Be polite, be professional and be prepared to kill. Your team is your responsibility and its up to you to keep them safe. Do whatever is necessary."

"Understood sir." Garibaldi answered, then cut communications. "Well here goes nothing."

Garibaldi and his three comrades, Bugs, Tucker and Large, cracked open the case of rations. They were the same processed meal packs issued to the _Persephone_ crew and still unappealing, though he supposed the unfortunate refugees would be grateful for anything. They had all kept their visors locked up inside their helmets to give the Abbai a chance to see them face to face, Sanchez had explained that seeing a living person and not a blank metal face plate would go a long way towards building trust and keeping the crowd calm. Now Garibaldi shouted an Abbai phrase which translated as 'form a line to receive food'.

Gradually the nearest refugees came cautiously forward, if they recognized humans they didn't show it, perhaps suspecting they were Centauri. Very gingerly one of the females came close enough for Garibaldi to reach.

"Here you go, here." He held out one of the packs. "Its food, err… Tucker, whats Abbai for 'food' huh?"

Tucker replied, and the female looked at the packet, reaching out to it.

"There you go." Garibaldi smiled. "It's yours, enjoy. Well, enjoy as much as you can." A quick check on the central medical files from the _Persephone_ had shown the basic components of the meal packs were safe for any League race, although they'd probably find the taste as bad as Garibaldi did. The female took the pack, gave a quick nod and then darted back into the camp.

"Another satisfied customer." Large commented.

"Its Freddy's people skills." Bugs chuckled. "You could run a shop."

"Shut up and grab a bag, try and get them to take these things." Garibaldi took another pack of unknown food, keeping his rifle slung behind his shoulder so not to frighten people, but ready to swing under his arm and be ready to fire in half a second.

"Yeah," Tucker grabbed a meal. "More we give away the less we have to eat on the way home."

"Why didn't you say!" Bugs grabbed an armful from the crate. "Hey, come and get it!"

Garibaldi smiled, one that was all too brief.

A massive explosion detonated on the far side of the camp, the heat of its blast causing Garibaldi turn away. Screams of panic erupted, followed by a second titanic blast.

"Jeez, what the hells going on?" Bugs yelled.

"Platoon units," the radio crackled. "Fall back for immediate dust off." Sanchez ordered. "Repeat, immediate dust off."

"Leave the crate, let's book!" Garibaldi called. "Come on, move it!"

The four men ran for the shuttle, the other three teams doing the exact same thing. The thump of explosions was a near constant rumble, some impacts near and some very far away each one seeming to shake Garibaldi's chest and lungs. It could only be a full scale orbital bombardment, which meant the Dilgar navy had shown up and caught everyone by surprise.

There was a terrific roar from above, and Garibaldi caught sight of three fast moving craft sweeping by overhead. They flew into the distance in front of him, then turned around and headed back dropping lower in the sky.

"Incoming!" he yelled. "Enemy aircraft, down!"

He dropped down flat, feeling the ground itself shake and jolt with distant destruction. He risked a glance up as the dangerous fighters veered inwards and opened fire, their plasma weapons shredding through tents and stores getting closer to the shuttle that had brought them.

"Ah hell no!" he pleaded to whatever deity might listen. "Don't do that to us!"

The Dilgar fighters hit the shuttle, destroying it in one pass and tearing up the ground around it, then screeched over head. Before Garibaldi could curse further a titanic white hot fireball erupted in front of him, a device dropped by the fighters over the wrecked shuttle ignited in a vicious chemically enhanced blaze consuming everything within a hundred metres, including the area where the command post was located. If he hadn't been hugging the ground the sudden firestorm would have bowled him over, flames reaching high into the air.

"The shuttle!" Bugs yelled over the roaring flames. "Did they waste the shuttle?"

Garibaldi drooped his visor, his helmet tactical system showing a sensor image of the scene ahead in green shades the ground obscured from sight by the fire. Both the shuttle and command post were indeed destroyed. He fell back on training, his first job was to figure out what the platoon still had, they had lost their transport and it looked like Lieutenant Sanchez was gone, but a quick scan showed Sergeant Sosobowski was still with them, none of the other Lieutenants or NCO's were registering life signs. The bulk of the platoon had been distributing food and so had been nowhere near the explosion and seemed healthy if confused. The main task right now was to get out of this attack alive.

"Red Platoon!" Sosobowski's accented voice broadcast across the unit. "There's a gully to the right, two hundred metres, head for it and take cover!"

Garibaldi didn't need to be told twice, he sprang up and ran like hell, the rest of the platoon doing the same thing. The blue sky overhead was filled with lights as Dilgar warships fired down on the planet, most of the shots disappearing into the distance and creating distant flashes on the horizon. One of the distant cities seemed to be the target, and Garibaldi spared a moment of sympathy for its inhabitants.

"Fighters!" someone warned, possibly Large. Garibaldi's sensor system warned him of the direction of the attack and its arrival time, he ran harder putting every effort into his sprint to reach the gully before the Dilgar had a chance to shoot him. He didn't think or consider possibilities, he had no time to do so he just ran, finally reaching the lip of the gully and dropping down, then instantly flattening himself against the wall with the rest of the platoon matching him.

The fighters dropped their payloads over the camp, the incendiary devices creating instant firestorms which consumed everything. Garibaldi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed against the wall trying to ignore the intense heat and blast waves that rushed over the gully tugging at his uniform, eternally grateful that he could not see the hell unfolding all around him. This was a type of war he hadn't imagined facing in his career, he'd been prepared to fight and kill, he had been prepared for airstrikes and perhaps even orbital bombardment, but he never expected to see such destruction unleashed on civilians, the Dilgar attacked without warning or care and that shocked Garibaldi and the rest of the unit.

As they huddled down and waited out the barrage the whole platoon now faced the reality that their way off planet had been destroyed and they were trapped in the middle of somebody else's war with no officers to direct them and no idea what the future would bring.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 17

Earth Dome

Geneva

The offices of the Joint chiefs were deathly silent, the generals and admirals themselves were in their private little rooms within the complex, their secretaries and aides keeping a respectful distance. The normally bustling central office with its scores of press officers, interpreters, data analysts and liaisons was equally silent, just the steady ticking of a clock reminding the observer that this was not some strange photograph frozen in time.

A sudden flurry of movement gathered the attention of the central room, a hundred eyes turned to watch General Denisov walking purposefully from his office with his aide half running behind clutching an armful of papers and folders. The one thing that everyone noticed was the Generals expression, a reflection of what they all felt, it was a look of deep concern mixed with a terrible anger and determination. It was a rare event for an Earth force ship to go missing, accidents were very infrequent occurrences ant the thought that a ship as famously dependable as the _Persephone_ could suffer neglect was unthinkable. Everyone in that building was convinced the ship had been attacked, and General Denisov was one of them. He and his staff were preparing for war.

"Mr President, at 7:43 Earth Standard time Sector command for the Third fleet at Orion lost contact with the _EAS Persephone_ in the Tirrith Star system."

President Hauser sat quietly and took in General Denisovs report. His office was occupied by the General, the Vice President, Secretary of State Brogan and Director Durban of the EIA, the most powerful individuals in the alliance and in this situation completely helpless. Despite the central heating the November chill cut into the President, the warm wooden tones of the room growing more sickly as realisation gripped his throat and began squeezing, shortening his breath and binding his lungs.

"At approximately the same time," Denisov continued, "Brakiri information channels broadcast that a Dilgar battle fleet lead by Warmaster Jha'dur had begun a full scale invasion of Tirrith. No further news has been received from that sector, all channels are being jammed by the Dilgar and we have nothing close enough to perform a scan. At this time we have to assume the _Persephone_ did not leave the system in time and has been destroyed."

"The Dilgar destroyed one of our ships?" Brogan half asked half stated with rising anger in his voice.

"That remains to be seen." Durban answered curtly, knowing full well that this was directly linked to Brogans bid for power and influence. "If we're lucky the ship has taken damage to its comms systems and is just unable to answer hails."

"And the worst case scenario?" Hauser queried.

"The ship was captured." Durban said. "To be a prisoner of Warmaster Jha'dur…" he tailed off, they'd all read reports on her activities at Alaca and Balos. It would be a fate worse than death.

"We need to know what happened." Hauser said firmly. "One of our ships is missing and we must make every effort to retrieve the crew."

"Or the electorate will crucify us." Brogan sighed.

"No Secretary!" Hauser snapped. "Because we sent that ship into danger and we will damn well get it out! This isn't about public relations, its about saving lives and doing our duty to the people!"

The room remained silent for a few moments after the Presidents outburst, Brogan retreating deeper into his lush chair with slight shame and a wound to his pride. His political manoeuvring to put the Earth Alliance in the middle of the Dilgar crisis had worked in a fashion, and now Earth was caught in an extremely delicate position.

"If the ship is at Tirrith, what sort of rescue forces would be needed?" Hauser spoke again.

"Well Mr President the Dilgar are there in force," Denisov explained. "According to the Brakiri they have about a thosand ships of unknown capabilities. If we went in and demanded a full explanation we'd need at least the entire Third fleet, six hundred warships currently stationed at Orion colony. Needless to say this could trigger a war."

"The other option is a covert force." Director Durban offered. "Unfortunately we predict it will be almost impossible to arrive undetected, and any force we send apart from a full fleet would be outgunned and might be deemed provocative."

"Provocation be damned!" Brogan raised his voice. "They shot down an Earth cruiser! How is that not provocation to us?"

"Depends what the ship was doing there, Mr Brogan." Durban said icily. "You pushed for that mission, the blame for this lies squarely with you and your lap dog Clark!"

"Gentlemen!" Hauser interrupted. "This isn't the time, we need to focus on the matter at hand, retrieving the _Persephone_."

"Well first Mr President I'd recommend trying to find out if there is anything left to rescue." Durban said grimly. "We can send a scout ship to the edge of the system, it can try and locate the _Persephone's_ transponder, or its disaster beacon."

"General?" the President looked for confirmation.

"We have the _Oracle_ class _EAS Delphi_ standing by, it'll be far enough away to avoid interception. It won't tell us what happened but it will let us know if we need to send a rescue mission."

"Make it happen." Hauser said. "And then put all ships on DefCon three, make your plans for a full scale incursion. If the Dilgar are holding our people, and if their forces are too great and they won't release them, then it is an act of war."

"Mr President, we are not ready for an interstellar conflict." Denisov warned.

"Hopefully the threat of force will be enough to convince the Dilgar to back down, correct Mr Durban?" the President asked.

"Possibly, they are fighting a lot of enemies." The EIA director guessed. "But they are also prideful warriors and would not forget our actions. There's no two ways about it, this is going to destroy the minute amount of diplomacy we had with the Dilgar. Either they've destroyed our ship, or we'll be forced to send a battlegroup to confront them for their return."

Hauser settled into his chair, his eyes were noticeably darker and tired looking as the worries took their toll. This situation could break his presidency and cause the 2232 elections to be disastrous for his party and his option for a second term in office. But more importantly Hauser felt for the _Persephone_ crew, he'd sent them out there to find out if the Dilgar were a threat to the Earth alliance and now he faced the possibility that he had sent them to their deaths. His humanity told him to do something.

"Mr Brogan, I want State talking to the Dilgar."

"Excuse me Mr President?" the older man frowned. "You want dialogue with them?"

"That's right. If we can negotiate the return of our people, or at least get news on what happened through diplomatic channels it will prevent more human lives being risked." Hauser paused. "I don't know what games you are playing Harry, but you've got a job to do and if you have to crawl on your knees to get our people back, then you better be prepared to do it."

"Yes Mr President." He didn't sound enthusiastic.

"And if that doesn't work General…?"

"I can have the Third fleet ready in a few hours, they are already on alert." The Chairman of the Joint chiefs replied.

"Lets hope it doesn't come to it." The President said. "We can't afford a war, but the Dilgar can't afford to make another enemy. All we need to do is convince them that the cost to them will be far greater than the cost to us. Go to your jobs gentlemen, and never lose sight of why we are doing this. The men and women of the _Persephone_ are counting on us to bring them home."

Tirrith.

"Anyone else remember me saying the Abbai job was too risky?" Paul Calendar groaned as he stood up from the chair at the front of the shuttle. "You all remember that right?"

"Yes boss," Toby said. "You remind us every time we have a life or death near miss."

"Which happens quite a lot these days." Paul continued. "We're freighter crew, our main concern should be dying of boredom, not dodging Dilgar battleships!"

The air in the shuttle was dark with smoke, the front of the craft seemed to have dug into the ground during the less than gentle landing and the forward windows were covered by dirt and stones blocking out any natural light. The craft had a pronounced forward list requiring the crew to walk 'uphill' towards the back of the shuttle and the main exit which did not help their already strained muscles and aching bones as they scrambled from their chairs.

"Okay everyone, wait in here for a minute." Paul grabbed some binoculars and opened the rear hatch, it hissed with a sharp release of gas as the pistons fired, then dropped un-powered with a loud thump to the ground. "I'll check out the area, Jors go break out the supplies."

Cautiously Paul peered out of the hatch, he glanced to and fro but saw nothing other than empty green fields and a slowly darkening sky. Gradually he stepped down from his wrecked shuttle, the metal of the hatch groaning on its hinges as he shifted his weight across it and into the balmy air. He listened carefully but heard nothing beside the steady hiss of some broken lines on the shuttle, the chemically pungent odour of coolant stinging his nose and eyes and forcing him to move away out into the open air. Walking to the front of the shuttle he clambered up onto the half submerged nose and walked up the fuselage to get a better view of wherever they were, there was something very unnerving about being here but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Anything up there boss?" he heard Toby whisper harshly from the hatchway.

"Don't think so." Paul answered as he scanned the area methodically with the Binoculars. "I can see the spare parts yard, the place we were heading for, but nothing else."

"So Jors dropped us in the right place?" Toby grinned. "Cool, but I think he broke the Shuttle."

"Yeah, well maybe Demin kept some at his yard to haul supplies, I bet he won't mind us borrowing one." It occurred to Paul that the Tirrithan merchant was probably dead, along with his shop staff on the orbital dock and anyone else up there. He quickly pushed the thought away, he couldn't let himself be overwhelmed with such sad images right now. "This place is empty, nothing to the horizon on all sides except the yard."

He clambered down and joined Toby outside the hatch. "Jors, you find the stuff?" he called into the dark shuttle interior.

"Yeah, its all here." The big Swede emerged dragging two large chests behind him. He stepped out of the ruined ship and dropped the chests out in the setting sun away from the hatch. "It all survived intact, not like the Shuttle."

"Complete write off?" Paul checked.

"Between the crash and that Dilgar fighter, yeah its history." Jors shrugged.

"Well Demin's yard is about two miles away, we might find some stuff there." Paul suggested. "Break open the crates."

Jors and Toby took a chest each, opening the coded logs on the thick metal boxes and opening the lids. Inside were the survival packs Paul had ensured they had available for just such an emergency, he reached in and began distributing the contents.

"Breather masks." He handed them to the team. "Keep these close, you know how the Dilgar have a thing for chemicals and stuff."

"Its not full NBC gear." Jenny frowned. "What if they deploy something that's absorbed through the skin?"

"Then I guess we die horribly." T'Koth smiled. "I'm glad I ignored my brother's advice to join the Narn Navy."

"If it happens it happens." Paul said with finality. "Until it does we can try to run. Next up, kit bags crammed with Earth Force ration packs, good old MRE's."

"What's MRE stand for?" T'Koth frowned.

"Meals rejected by the enemy." Toby answered smugly. "What does that tell you?"

"It tells me the enemy weren't stranded in the middle of an invasion." Paul snapped. "Now shut up and take a sack." He grabbed the next item. "M-19 10mm assault rifle, that'll belong to you Jors." The big man was the only one who could comfortably handle the shocking recoil of the old Earth force infantry weapon, a failed attempt to create a weapon powerful enough to defeat modern body armour and the heavier alien anatomies.

"Good as new." He checked the chamber, then hefted the combat harness loaded with the large bullets for the weapon.

"Toby, Jenny." Paul took two smaller weapons about the size of the newer Earth PPG weapons. "Standard assault rifles, should be enough to deal with any Dilgar who give us trouble."

"You expecting trouble?" Jenny questioned.

"They shot us down without any warning." Paul said, taking a third weapon for himself. "And they fired on that Earth Force cruiser, I don't think they'll worry about shooting us first." He found the last weapon from one of the chests. "T'Koth, automatic Shot gun. Enjoy."

Each of the crew members were now loaded up with food, water, atmospheric breathers and weapons. How long they'd last against a Dilgar patrol wasn't something Paul wanted to think about, but they should deter looters and bandits taking advantage of the breakdown of law and order in the midst of the invasion.

"We make for the yard, grab parts for the _Race_ and then take a shuttle up when the skies clear. Are we all understanding this plan?" Paul checked, a chorus of agreement answering him. "We do this fast and quiet, then we get out of here. This isn't the best place to be but we're all still breathing, so lets keep it that way. Come on, daylights wasting."

Elsewhere

The constant thunder of explosions had diminished to just a few random blasts now and again coupled with the occasional roaring engine or screeching missile passing overhead. Garibaldi and the rest of the unit were still covering in the gully for what had seemed like hours but in truth had been mere minutes, the Dilgar assault was a swift as it was brutal.

"Sounds like they've begun targeting elsewhere." Sergeant Sosobowski commented. "Private Garibaldi, take a look."

With some effort Garibaldi shifted his position and lifted up his rifle over the rim of the gully. The weapons scope was linked directly to his helmet systems so in a corner of his visor display he could se the feed from the PPG scope which in battle would have let him fire on an enemy without looking at them directly.

"I'm not seeing any movement Sarge." He reported. "Not a thing."

"Alright, Private Conner, follow me." Sosobowski stood. "The rest of you stay low." He leapt up and over the gully edge and darted towards the raging fires stated by the attack, heading specifically for the former command post for the Platoon.

"Freddy?" Bugs tugged Garibaldi's shoulders. "What happened to the refugee camp?"

"Its gone man." He said flatly. "Totally wasted."

Each of the soldiers had their visors locked down in an airtight seal masking their faces, but Garibaldi could guess what the Platoons expressions would be: shock and disbelief just like he was feeling.

"What the hell did they do that for! Bugs exclaimed. "Those are refugees Freddy!"

"How the hell do I know?" Garibaldi snapped. "This whole thing is way beyond what I can understand. Damn alien wars, its just about killing everything, it doesn't make sense!"

"You two, knock it off." Sergeant Sosobowski said gruffly as he returned. "Remember your training and keep calm." He assured them, then knelt down at the edge of the Gully and examined the platoon checking their names and status as it was displayed on his enhanced helmet sensor systems. "Can you all hear me?"

"Yes Sergeant." Garibaldi answered along with the other expectant soldiers.

"Alright, this is what happened. The Lieutenant is gone, he bought it when the command post was hit along with the rest of the platoon leadership. I'm assuming command with Privates Garibaldi and Conner as seconds, turn to earn those single stripes your wearing."

Garibaldi reluctantly fingered the fabric on his upper sleeve, the mark of a First class private and a few hundred extra credits a year was supposed to make him more responsible. Instead he just wanted to run and never turn back.

"The shuttle is also totalled and I can't find the pilots. They too are likely dead, meaning we have no immediate way off this rock." Sighs greeted that information. "Also we have no contact with the _Persephone_, and after the attack it should have tried to raise us. We have to assume it's been destroyed."

"So we're stuck here Sarge?" Bugs asked on the Platoons behalf.

"Until we find our own way off." Sosobowski answered confidently. "We have two options, first we find a transmitter to signal Earth force for extraction. Second, we try and hijack a shuttle from a local port or if need be a Dilgar craft and sneak past the gate."

"We'd also want a pilot." Garibaldi added.

"Correct." The Sergeant nodded. "None of these things will be found in this gully. Grab your gear, pick up as many food rations from the supplies we were bringing to the refugees as you can, then assemble by squad and prepare to move out."

The green clad troops moved quickly under their sergeant's eyes and leapt up onto the blasted ground that a few minutes before had been lush green grass. Trying to ignore the thick black smoke and orange fires that turned dusk into a strange play of orange light and dancing shadows the platoon made for the abandoned food pallets and began taking handfuls of ready meals. Dazed survivors watched them quietly, too deep in shock to do much else. The Soldiers took what they could, making sure there was ample left for when the survivors came around for whatever good it would do them.

"Sergeant." Garibaldi made sure only Sosobowski could read his signal. "Where should we head for?"

"There are two major spaceports nearby." Sosobowski replied. "Check your data maps, one at twenty miles, another at fifty five. The closest one seemed to be where most of the incoming fire went earlier, I doubt we'll find anything workable there so we go for the further one."

"It's a long hike Sarge, especially with Dilgar crawling all over the area."

"I know, we'll have to keep a very low profile and move with caution. Its going to take us days to travel that far, maybe weeks, but we're out of options."

"Yeah Sarge, doesn't look too good."

"It won't get better standing around." Sosobowski snorted. "The Dilgar aren't looking for us or even expecting us, that gives us the advantage. Lets get out of here and go home." He switched channels to include the Platoon. "First squad, move on point, second squad, flanks. We've got places to be Gropos, lets get to it!"

Garibaldi adjusted the weight of the rebreather and the pack on his back and checked his rifle was primed but safe. The troops around him began to move off in widely spaced groups constantly scanning for trouble and focusing on their roles within the platoon, not considering where they might end up a few days from now, or whether any of them would get off this planet. With a final look of sadness he turned his back on the burning camp and wished a silent prayer of luck for the surviving refugees, he wasn't a religious man but they needed all the help they could get. In truth he realised that despite the rifle in his hands he and the platoon were just as helpless.

The sky above darkened from day to night, and away from the billowing smoke Garibaldi could see a thousand shooting stars glowing brightly in the sky, each one an assault shuttle packed with Dilgar soldiers intent on enslaving the people of this world and turning it into a military supply base. Red Platoon marched on in silence as the sky fell upon them.

Narn Homeworld.

Representative G'Kar stormed into the diplomatic offices behind the main meeting place of the Kha'ri with a dark look on his face. In the offices he found representative Ta'Kai stood beside one of the small slit windows that characterised the armoured building, like most Narn structures it was more of a fortress than anything else, and of course if the Centauri ever returned that's exactly what it would become.

"You!" he accused the female Narn. "When did you learn of this?"

"Picking up quite a storm outside." The former teacher said calmly. "Once our climate was temperate, now we cling to the deserts and endure these storms that are but one more legacy of the Centauri. One more reason for revenge."

"Q'Quonth has ordered the fleet to prepare for war." G'Kar snarled. "He is sending ships to seize Gorash without consulting the full assembly of the Kha'ri!"

"So he is, I wonder what the Centauri will do?"

"I don't think they'll be welcomed with fine Brivari and bouquets of flowers!" the male grimaced. "The Centauri are still more than a match for us, this will result in war and defeat!"

"Calm down G'Kar, your spots will merge." Ta'Kai teased. "The Centauri will back down, their Emperor is too weak for war."

"And I thought there were no Narn telepaths!" G'Kar sneered. "I can think of no other way you would know the Emperors mind!"

"Relax, I'm sure the great leader knows what he is doing."

G'Kar gave his colleague a curious look. "A few weeks ago you wanted G'Quonth out of the Kha'ri so you could assume his place. Now you are backing him? Why this sudden change of heart?"

Ta'Kai shrugged. "It is the duty of Narns to stand together in a time of crisis."

"And when did you start putting others before ambition? I know you Ta'Kai, you wouldn't do this if you didn't seek to gain from it."

"I remember that you G'Kar wanted to see the Narn expand into Centauri space." Ta'Kai grinned. "That you supported G'Qounth's dealings."

"It is not so uch the fleet that concerns me, it is the fact he acted without consulting the Kha'ri!" G'Kar fumed. "War with the Centauri will come, and our fury will give us victory but it must be decided by all of us. You opposed the principle of invading the Centauri at first, that it played into Dilgar plans, now you support that same action?"

"It's complicated."

"No, I suspect it's very easy." G'Kar narrowed his gaze. "If G'Quonth succeeds and the Centauri relinquish the Gorash system you can claim you supported the action and gain favour with our great leaders. If on the other hand it fails you already have plans laid to expoit G'Quonth's failure for your own ends. My compliments."

Ta'Kai gave him an amused look. "I said that when the time came you could still join me, you too can profit from this G'Kar." She turned to face him, stepping close to the tall Narn. "I have always had a … fondness for you, I think your talents could be very useful to me."

"I am truly impressed Ta'Kai, your ambition has no limits, and it appears your morals no beginning." He smiled back. "There may come a day when you and I are on the same side, but it is not today. This will lead to war with the Centauri, perhaps it will be over in one battle, perhaps we will see Narn burned beneath our feet. Whatever the result, I will stand by the Kha'ri and not against them for myself."

"You won't get far in politics with that attitude G'Kar." She said firmly, giving him a last look from head to toe. "Still, my offer is still open, you have certain attributes I find intriguing." She smiled smartly. "You know where to find me."

G'Kar watched her leave with mixed feelings, he desired power and she could give it to him. Ta'Kai was the best politician he knew and would easily claw her way to the top using her wits and her more physical charms, and if she thought G'Kar was a useful ally he'd be dragged up with her. But somewhere he could hear his conscience speaking to him in the voice of his father extolling him to put the people first, and telling him to punish the Centauri and make Narn strong.

A fleet would arrive at Gorash in a few hours, and then they would know the resolve of the Centauri's new Emperor. The flames of war were spreading fast, burning through the League worlds like an orange storm, and now they were reaching his home. G'Kar hoped his people were powerful enough to force the crisis to work for them, if not it would surely consume them as surely as it had the Alacans, Balosians and Abbai.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18

Dilgar Strike fleet, Tirrith.

The holographic representation of the _Persephone_ spun slowly in the darkened room, as the time stamp advanced the image turned its guns and began firing blue pulses of plasma at an unknown target. Jha'dur knew of course that it was a Dilgar cruiser, but right now she was intent on monitoring exactly what the Earth cruiser did, watching the ships every tiny course change, its rates of fire, its interceptor grid, everything.

The door to her quarters opened briefly, a wall of white light causing the image to fade for a moment until the doors closed shut once more.

"Warmaster." Captain An'jash spoke up. "I have good news."

"It had better be very good." Jha'dur said softly. "I ordered you not to disturb me." She had learnt that unlike Warmaster Len'char she didn't have to harden her voice to make people nervous, it was far better to veil the threat in sweetness.

"We've recovered the data recorder for the Earth ship." An'jash said triumphantly. "It is intact."

"Excellent!" Jha'dur felt like laughing. "Well done Captain, have you had chance to analyse it yet?"

"No Warmaster, we found it on the planets surface presumably it was caught in the gravity well when the cruiser ejected it. Our patrols have taken it to our temporary headquarters on planet."

"It is imperative we recover the data in that recorder." Jha'dur expressed. "It'll have maps of human space, specific information on their weapons and training programmes and most importantly it will have recorded every order and response given by the crew, every word they said is in that device." She stared fixedly at the holographic ship, weapons fire struck its side which in turn made it just fire back with even greater fury. "I want that information Captain."

"Yes Warmaster. The data is well encrypted, surprisingly so in fact, but our fleet intelligence officers are working on it."

"I'll have a specialist flown in from Omelos." Jha'dur nodded. "This information could prove vital to the war effort."

"I have other news on the humans." An'jash continued, gaining the Warmasters full attention. "They have opened communication with our government, they want to know what happened to their ship."

"Of course they do." Jha'dur gave a thin smile. "And if they don't receive an answer they will send a ship to investigate, perhaps even a fleet to demand their vessel be returned."

"It would mean war, a war we are better able to fight than them."

"Captain," Jha'dur shook her head slightly. "You are smarter than this, never judge an enemy before meeting them in battle. We don't know how skilled these humans are, that's why we need the data recorder to see what we may be fighting in a few years."

"They have primitive ships, they were just lucky here." An'jash said confidently.

"I am sure that's what Commander Tr'ell thought before her ship experienced this." Jha'dur pointed to the hologram, it showed the EA ship soaking up fire from a Dilgar cruiser and blasting clean through with its own weapons, the plasma rounds tearing off into deep space. "Don't underestimate them, just get the data."

"What shall I say happened to the Cruiser, in case central command asks?"

"I've made a full report, its up to Len'char to lie to the humans about what happened." Jha'dur sneered. "Pray he never has to fight such an enemy, they'll be at Omelos in a week." With a sigh she turned off the holographic projector. "He'll probably say it was an accident, they were caught in a crossfire and there were no survivors."

"Do you think they will believe us?"

"Maybe." Jha'dur shrugged. "It doesn't matter, it's Len'chars job, not mine. If they show up with warships this is Dilgar territory and they will be trespassing, then it becomes my responsibility to convince them to leave." She did not elaborate on how.

"One last thing Warmaster," An'jash smiled in amusement. "We caught this intercept from Brakiri news services, I think you'll find it entertaining." She produced a data crystal and handed it to Jha'dur.

"What's it about?"

"You Warmaster." An'jash bowed. "I will check on the progress of our ground forces."

With her curiosity peaked she placed the crystal in the port and activated the flat screen beside her. She was greeted by a Brakiri female outside the Krona building where the government was in session listening to a report from Ambassador Brocat. She gave a quick summary of the Dilgar commander, none other than Jha'dur herself, and quoted the Ambassador's speech.

"When describing Warmaster Jha'dur," the reporter addressed the camera. "Ambassador Brocat referred to the mythical 'Deathwalker' comparing the destruction she has wrought to the legend of…"

"End programme." Jha'dur commanded. "Search records for references to 'Deathwalker' in Brakiri legend."

The computer began running through the cultural files, Jha'dur was careful to ensure her command had full reference to the histories and major legends of their enemies in order to try and understand how they thought and what sort of society had produced her opponents. Knowledge had always been something she had prized, no less important to her life as Warmaster than it was to her life as a scientist and it was that scientific scrutiny that she felt had given here such success in battle. The computer chimed, indicating the search was over.

"Deathwalker." It said flatly. "Mythical female said to be the bringer of death within Brakiri tradition. Deathwalker lived in the darkness between the stars and would sometimes descend on a flaming comet to sow disaster among the population. The black robed Deathwalker and flaming comet are prominent symbols of death among Brakiri."

Jha'dur enjoyed a brief chuckle, she had always believed death was her companion, and had worked hard to make it her servant. If the Brakiri wanted to call her Deathwalker she would not discourage it, fear was a powerful weapon and one she would wield happily alongside more physical weapons. It certainly had an appealing sound to it, very appealing.

Tirrith.

Garibaldi checked his watch, they had about half an hour until daylight and needed to find somewhere to take cover. They didn't know if the Dilgar were aware of them but it made sense that recon flights would be going overhead to look for Tirrithan military units and if they spotted the EA soldiers nobody thought they'd just be left alone. Moving at night was safer, the standard combat gear they each wore was good enough to hold local air temperature instead of absorbing and passing on the body heat of the wearer, so they were all but undetectable to most IR or heat scans, it was just being spotted from a spy satellite in broad daylight that really concerned them. That and Dilgar armed patrols.

Sergeant Sosobowski was currently checking out a small town which looked completely deserted, everywhere seemed deserted. None of the soldiers had seen or heard another living thing since starting their journey, no people, no animals, no birds. The silence was deeply disturbing, only the occasionally gust of wind rustling the leaves of nearby trees sought to disturb the cold serenity of the countryside around them. The weather was perfect but each of them was still tightly sealed in their helmet and gear getting recycled air from their rebreather packs and watching the tactical displays on their helmet visors isolated from the reality of the pleasant day about to open up in dazzling sunshine above.

"Reds, this is One. Copy?" a voice said on the platoon frequency, Garibaldi recognized is as Sosobowski.

"Copy." Garibaldi replied on the units behalf.

"Area clear. Move by sections and form on my position. By the book Reds."

"Copy. On our way." Garibaldi replied, then sent the platoon moving in groups of four towards the town, each group watching for trouble and covering each other as they moved quickly and silently towards the small town. As Garibaldi looked for threats on the way in he once again noticed how completely silent it was, the town itself appeared deserted of all life. They entered the central street, doing a quick sweep for targets and then formed on the Sergeants position in the town centre.

"Didn't see anything Sarge." Garibaldi reported. "No movement on our sensors either."

"This place is deserted." Sosobowski grunted. "The government must have evacuated it. Alright, go find a place to get some rest. Split the squads into different houses, half sleep, half watch."

"I wish we had some sentry guns." Garibaldi sighed. "Set them up in a doorway and it'd stop anyone surprising us."

"We ain't that lucky." Sosobowski said flatly. "Get your squad tucked down on the right side of the street, I'll have Conner put his people on the left."

"Yes sarge." Garibaldi didn't salute, it was forbidden on deployment in case the enemy were watching and trying to find officers and leaders to target. He headed off to his eight person squad which was crouched along the side of the street.

"Freddy, what's up here?" Bugs asked as he arrived. "Where'd everyone go?"

"They must have evacuated." He answered. "We're taking up residence in this building here," he pointed to a tall stone structure, "number one section get some sleep, number two section get up to the top floor and keep an eye out, four hour rotation."

The squad divided and moved quickly, the first pair through the door quickly moving left and right through the room and checking it was clear before the rest followed on and repeated the process throughout the building. "Clear." Bugs reported, followed by more confirmations as each room was methodically investigated.

"Okay squad, you have your orders. If you need me I'll be with the Sarge." Garibaldi informed them. "Sweet dreams people."

He stepped out of the building, the sun just coming up over the horizon and beginning to shed light on the small dwellings. He moved quickly to a large building in the town centre surrounded by trees and open spaces which he guessed was the Town hall or other meeting place for the community, his tactical readings said Sergeant Sosobowski and Private Conner were already inside.

"Sergeant, we're all…" his words ended as he entered the building, its interior was filled with unmoving bodies covering the large floor within the building. "…What?" he gasped.

"I'm guessing it's the towns occupants." Sosobowski said with slow deliberation keeping his voice at a forced even tone. "I can't see any weapons or uniforms."

"They're dead?" Garibaldi spluttered. "The whole town?"

"Looks like." Sosobowski replied, his face was hidden by his visor but was likely grim in expression. "There's no weapons fire or evidence of violence, it looks like they were poisoned."

"Those fighters which keep making low level passes," Conner said quietly. "They must be spreading Biological agents across the countryside."

"We haven't seen anything alive since we started walking." Garibaldi realised. "Holy hell, they've infected everything!"

"One to Platoon." Sosobowski opened a channel. "Under no circumstances remove your breathers or break any seals, full NBC protocols."

"Why didn't it show up on our air sensors?" Conner asked. "Shouldn't we know the area is contaminated?"

"Maybe the air clears fast, could be safe to remove the gear by now." Garibaldi said, his eyes never leaving the scene before him. "Of maybe Dilgar chemical agents don't register as dangerous."

"Doesn't matter, we play safe." The Sergeant said conclusively. "Helmets stay sealed, use your nutrition drinks for energy, suck it through your helmets filter tubes."

"Great." Conner shuddered. "Makes the tasteless taste even less."

"Quit complaining." Sosobowski said firmly "This ain't the place to fret about life, not after seeing this." He remained quiet for a moment, the Sarge was a hard faced man with combat experience during the Narn incursion and Mars rebellion, he was a lifer and a role model for the Battalion NCO's to follow. He never faltered, rarely smiled on duty, never laughed, in fact he showed no emotion at all. In the moment of silence Garibaldi had to wonder whether the old soldier was going to shed a tear or speak with a faltering voice.

"Head back to your squads." Sosobowski said firmly. "Nobody comes in here."

"Yes Sarge." The two First class privates obeyed, leaving the place. Whoever they were they had tried to shelter together in a futile attempt to prevent the inevitable, all it allowed was for them to die together.

"Do you think the Dilgar know they're killing civilians?" Conner asked as he and Garibaldi walked across the town square.

"I don't think they care." He answered truthfully. "I think they might actually want to kill civilians."

"Seriously? Damn Freddy, what the hell are we getting into here?"

"I dunno Will, but I really wanna get out of here." Despite the warmth Garibaldi shivered. "Just get back home."

"I hear that." Conner agreed. "This is fubar, I hope the Sarge is right about a rescue coming in."

"He's gotta be, no way Earth force would just leave us here." Garibaldi said assuredly. "We just gotta be ready for it, that's all. Home by Christmas Will, keep that thought in you head man. Home by Christmas."

"Home by Christmas." Will Conner repeated. "See you in four hours Freddy."

They slapped each others shoulders then headed for their separate buildings. At the centre of town Sergeant Sosobowski finished uttering a quiet prayer in his native Polish, then closed and locked the door of the town hall leaving its occupants in final peace.

Orion Colony

Earth Alliance.

A few weeks ago the space surrounding the colony had been filled with warships, a few dozen cruisers, dreadnoughts and escorts tasked with bolstering the defence of this distant world and its sizeable population against threats from neighbouring worlds. It had been one of the largest gatherings of military power in recent memory this far from Earth, and since that time those ships had been replaced by newer arrivals. If the first group was considered large, the second group was unprecedented. Several hundred vessels were spread throughout local space as part of a full scale fleet deployment from the home systems to the frontier. No reason had been given but it seemed obvious to everyone that it was in response to what was now known on ISN as the _Persephone_ incident. The ships were replenishing from the orbital stations and taking a final few days of shore leave before the headed off to Altair and the last Earth controlled star system before the League. There was an unspoken certainty that after leaving Orion these ships would be sent to Tirrith to recover their lost sister.

Jason Sterns was part of the fleet serving as First officer onboard the _EAS Lexington_. Like the rest of the crew he had grimly watched reports on ISN as news leaked that one of their ships was overdue on patrol and shared the same worries and apprehensions as the vessel was named as the _Persephone_, part of the same squadron the _Lexington_ led. Vice Admiral Thornhill had been on the sector command station for the best part of a day debating with Admiral Hamato what the best form of action would be, and Sterns knew his squadron commander would be screaming at the top of her lungs to be unleashed on the Tirrith system to tear through anyone who sought to imprison her officers and crew.

"Three more ships just joined the group." Communications officer Derrick reported. "That must be all our patrols."

"Looks like." Commander Sterns nodded his dark features in appreciation. "It's a battle fleet. We've got to be going in, we've got to."

The _Lexington_ was flagship of the 9th cruiser squadron, six ships under Thornhill including the _Persephone_. The whole of the Alliance was concerned for the well being of their missing ship but the feelings of this group in particular were much more pronounced, they had trained and lived beside each other for months, even years among the veterans until they had the kind of bonds only the military can form, the reliance and knowledge that your life is dependant on somebody else getting their job right. Sterns would have trusted Captain DeVierre with his safety, and he knew the _Persephone_ crew would have total faith that the rest of the 9th Squadron would be there for them in a fight. Only they weren't, and now she was missing presumed lost. Sterns only thought was that he should have been there with them, that if the _Lexington_ had the _Persephone's_ back then there would be one more cruiser circling Orion today.

"Commander, message from Admiral Thornhill," Derrick spoke up. "She tells us to put on ISN and send it through the ship."

"Make it happen Lieutenant." Sterns said, then found the station on his small side monitor which usually relayed tactical data. He saw a female reporter stood in a press conference, the podium behind her bearing the seal of the President.

"We've had word the President is on his way." The reporter said. "In fact, there, the President!" she pointed to the grey haired man in an immaculate suit as he walked to the podium.

"I will be making a brief statement," Hauser said calmly. "Then General Denisov will answer your questions."

To Sterns the President seemed awkward, he'd always come across as confident in public speaking and was usually totally at ease under the bright lights of digital cameras and the silent thrumming of the hovering news lenses. Whatever he was going to say he had been affected by it, and that didn't bode well. Sterns already knew what he would say, the _Persephone_ was gone.

"My fellow humans of the Alliance, this is a difficult time for us all and we must bear this sad news. As reported one of our ships was missing on patrol, it is my duty to inform you that the _EAS Persephone_ has been destroyed with all her crew."

The gasps of the press corps were echoed across the breadth of the Alliance, from the cruisers of the 9th to the citizens on Luna and Sirius colony.

"The families of those onboard are currently being notified and we will release the names of her crew after all relatives have been informed. I extend my personal sympathies to them and I know I speak for the whole of humanity when I express my deep regret at this incident."

Sterns took a look over his shoulder, the whole crew were watching their screens all showing the same sombre image. The President looked like he was attending a funeral in his dark attire, perhaps appropriately. Each of the bridge officers were wondering the same thing and the President continued with the answer.

"The _Persephone_ was delivering humanitarian aid to refugees in the League system of Tirrith where it was caught in the war between the League and the Dilgar. In an official message from Dilgar high command they explain the vessel was caught in a crossfire when League vessels fired on a Dilgar unit coming under a flag of truce to request the surrender of the system. We have heard nothing from the League on this matter, and there has been no communication from Tirrith."

The President looked down and imperceptibly sighed, an image which was beamed to billions of people who shared that same sense of loss. Few of them had heard of the _Persephone_, and of them only a fraction knew any of her crew, but the grief of her loss touched each person who saw their President bend for an instant under the weight of responsibility.

"We offer our prayers for the crew, and our thoughts to the families. There is a great war raging beyond our borders, and today that war has claimed one of our own. We remember them. Thank you."

The President stepped aside in silence and headed away back towards his offices within Earth Dome, the usual barrage of questions and comments notably absent as he disappeared to be replaced by General Denisov. "I will take a few questions." He said bluntly.

"General," the ISN reporter spoke first. "Are you positive there were no survivors?"

"We are." He said flatly. "Visual evidence of the ships remains was provided by the Dilgar, nothing could have survived."

"Could the Dilgar have taken our crew? Reports from the League say the Dilgar are murderous fighters."

"We have no evidence for that." Denisov replied. "Our policy is to remain uninvolved in this war."

"So we will not retaliate for the _Persephone's_ loss?"

"We have no one to retaliate against."

"General, Carol Songster, BBC. What do you say to the growing movement for intervention in the war on behalf of the League?"

"Its not my place to decide on whether the Alliance will intervene, but I can say the President and most of the Senate favours neutrality and believes the war will fizzle out in the next few months as the Dilgar consolidate their gains."

"Will the Dilgar attack Earth?"

"No, never." Denisov said firmly. "The day an alien battlefleet arrives above Earth is the day after the last Earth force ship has been destroyed. The Dilgar concern us but they have not threatened us and gain nothing by attacking Earth space. One way or another we are all perfectly safe."

All except the crew of the _Persephone_, Sterns thought. With deep sadness he resolved never to forget the friends he had made among that ships crew, and if he had the chance he would make sure their loss was given meaning, and if necessary revenge.

Mars

Sophia stood beside the gate of the school, like most Martian buildings it was a simple blocky construct built for strength rather than beauty. If the dome overhead were to fail the school had the ability to seal itself shut and protect the children inside for up to a week before help arrived, it was a great reassurance to Sophia to know her most treasured belonging was safe even out of her sight.

"Did you see the President?" She overheard two other mothers talking beside her. "That ship from the news was destroyed."

"Its awful." Her companion shook her head. "They didn't have a chance."

Not for the first time Sophia felt a shiver. The air was an artificially controlled 70 degrees but she still found herself suddenly cold once in a while over the last few days ever since the news story broke. She knew Alfredo was out there somewhere on a ship, but she didn't know exactly which one and the possibility that he was on the missing ship had haunted her every moment since.

"Mommy!" her attention was grabbed by her son meeting her with a slight scowl. "I'm twelve mom, you don't have to walk me home from school! Its embarrassing!"

"Come on Michael." She said firmly. "I have your tea ready at home, get in the car and stop fussing."

He clambered into the back seat as she activated the silent electric engine, with a hum the car moved away and began to cross the gridded streets of the dome.

"So what did you learn today?" she asked.

"We learned about the Centauri." He chirped. "There were lots of funny pictures, you seen those guys hair styles?"

"Don't mock them." Sophia smiled. "I'll show you some hair from our own past, wait until you see humans from the 1980's, or the 2110's!"

"They also invaded a lot of people, like the Dilgar."

"They taught you about the Dilgar in school?" She asked gently. "At your age?"

"Just a little, that they are at war and that's what the news is about."

"Sounds like you learned a lot." His mother said softly.

"It was boring. Is Daffy on tonight?"

"I think so, here we are."

She turned into the driveway of the apartment block they lived in along with dozens of other families from the nearby military base at the courtesy of the taxpayer. The homes were spacious as far as the Martian average went though considered tiny by Earth standards, it was enough for Sophia and her family. Filling the driveway were four military cars, their green colour and stencilled registrations a rare sight on Mars. She pulled up in her space and opened the door of her car. Sophia's heart was pounding fast, it had to be more than coincidence that the military were visiting the family apartments the same hour as the President announced the loss of that cruiser. She felt her throat drying while Michael got out of the car.

"What's all that about?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe they're organising something." She said trying to hold an even tone.

"Like a party?"

"Maybe." She smiled. They headed for the door to their apartment and from the corner of her eye Sophia noted two senior officers watching her. As she reached the door they walked forward and she closed her eyes tight.

"Michael, go inside now." She said gently, clicking the lock open with her data card. "Daffy will be on soon, I'll just talk to these nice men."

"Okay Mom, but hurry up, I need something to eat." He darted inside and Sophia shut the door behind him, turning to face the two officers who had stopped a respectful distance behind her.

"Sophia Garibaldi?" one asked to which she nodded, completely unable to speak for the dryness in her throat. "We regret to inform you…"

She didn't hear the rest of the officer's speech, her legs collapsed beneath her and she slid with her back to the door down as if she had been shot. She couldn't even manage to cry, the force of the emotion punching so deep within her it transcended feeling. She sat on the Martian floor and tried to accept what had happened. Her Freddy would not be coming home ever again.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 19

Tirrith Independent Starsystem.

Things were not going well for Paul Calendar, after walking to the collection of junk which masqueraded as a spare parts yard for starships in the hope of finding a shuttle and a way off Tirrith they had in fact found nothing but scorch marks and empty hangers. Whatever craft Demin had kept to ship around his parts they had all gone, stolen or destroyed in all probability.

"So much for that brilliant plan." Toby muttered as he looked around a pile of rusted parts. "Guess we could walk to Earth?"

Paul ignored him, he was too busy looking back the way they had come. Their shuttle was sending a thin plume of black smoke high into the sky and he was beginning to worry about it attracting the wrong sort of attention. "We're not staying long." He announced. "Jors, can we go now?"

"One minute chief!" he shouted from around a corner. "I found the parts we ordered, they're in great condition."

"Makes a change." Toby grimaced at a rusted airtight hatch.

"Did you find a truck or something?" Paul asked again.

"Not exactly." Jors came around the corner wheeling a trolley, it had four large wheels and a deck for moving heavy items, in this case part of a flow regulator.

"Jors, tell me you're joking." Paul sighed inwardly. "We need a truck."

"There isn't one." The Swede answered. "Now I can push this as far as we need to."

"Its an engine part, it must weigh a ton!" Toby pointed.

"About three hundred pounds, maybe three fifty." Jors shrugged. "I can manage it."

"We bought four of them right? One for each engine." Paul frowned. "What about the rest?"

"They're back there, but we only need one to get us home. We can buy new ones back on Proxima or Mars."

"We've spent more money on stuff we've left behind than we have on the ship itself!" Toby remarked. "I hope the Dilgar enjoy our fuel and spares!"

"Alright, button it." Paul snapped. "If you can haul that Jors then fine, we'll take it but we still need a way off."

"Captain, I got an idea." Jenny raised her hand. She hadn't said much lately, in fact she didn't say much at all which ensured people listened. "We should head for one of the cities, there's one just a few miles beyond that ridge."

"Cities will be teeming with Dilgar," Toby warned. "We should stay well clear."

"Maybe an isolated military base or airfield?" T'Koth suggested. "Something with an airstrip?"

"It would have been bombed by the Dilgar from orbit," Jenny defended. "Only the ports and strips in the cities are unaffected, they need them for their own supplies."

"So they'll be very well guarded." T'Koth said. "I was in the resistance fighting the Centauri, I can tell you from experience this won't end well."

"We don't have much choice, it's the only place with spacecraft." Jenny stated. "If we don't try it we're stuck and eventually they'll find us. I'm not going to be a Dilgar prisoner."

"Me neither." T'Koth added firmly. "You hear stories about what they do to people, that's never going to happen to me."

"But if we walk into a city full of them, well you see where I'm going." Toby sighed. "We're dead."

"We can try and sneak in, dress as Tirrithan slave labour perhaps." Jenny kept on. "Captain, unless you have a better idea…"

Sadly he didn't. "Fine, we'll try it. But if it even looks like trouble, we're gone. Clear?"

"Clear." Jenny smiled. "If we head south first we can come to the planets second city from a different direction."

"Sounds like a long walk." Toby complained. "What about a straight line?"

"If they saw the shuttle come down that's where they'll look first." Jenny said.

"She's right, we should be careful." Agreed T'Koth. "Swift and unpredictable. It might just get us out of here."

"So gather your gear." Paul slung his rifle onto his shoulder. "We better get started, the sooner we go the sooner we arrive."

"That makes no sense." Toby frowned, while Jors gave a good humoured laugh.

"And if we do run into trouble and can't escape, save your last bullet." Paul added darkly. "If it comes down to it I'll shoot every one of you before the Dilgar take you. Consider it a favour."

"Well, thanks." Jors offered. "But lets try not to get that far gone."

He put his weight behind the trolley with the engine regulator on and began pushing it down a simple path, the rest of the crew following around him and remarking on how quiet it was.

Paul took a last look at Demin's yard, by now quite convinced that the Tirrithan owner wasn't coming back. Part of him wanted to torch the yard to prevent the Dilgar laying their hands on these supplies, but he recognized that a low profile would help him much more than an act of passionate spite. The Dilgar were not the usual race of aliens who showed up, blew up some stuff and then slunk away. They were here to stay and wouldn't suffer anyone to oppose them.

"You coming boss?" Jenny called, apparently happier now they were moving.

With a final look Paul turned his back on the yard and his old wrecked shuttle and followed the rest of his crew down the path on their long journey.

Royal court

Centauri Prime.

It was not lightly that Prime Minister Shorra walked the halls of the palace towards the e room. Everything in court was set up at the Emperors convenience, meetings happened when he wanted them, reports were given to him when he asked it and his private times were sacred. To interrupt the Emperor was a potentially risky business. Shorra's memory constantly reminded him of the Prime Minister who had barged in on a past Emperor to report the Orieni attacks, or the general who spoke to the Emperor out of turn about the Narns. The heads of those men had been a gruesome warning that protocol was as much to protect them from the Emperors ire as it was to coddle their ruler.

He passed through the ornate gates into the silk draped chamber, opulent perfumes scenting the air and tingling his nostrils as he passed the royal household guards. Shorra walked straight backed towards the throne, if Turhan was in a bad mood no sort of pleading or cowering would matter so he would take whatever came head on. He stood before the Emperor and bowed low.

"Prime Minister." Turhan was reading a report from the economic office and did not look at Shorra as he spoke. "Our meeting is not for three hours."

"Yes Majesty, I humbly apologise."

Turhan turned his head and regarded the Prime Minister, his steady gaze was both uncomfortable and unfathomable. The Emperor was still new to the position, barely a few months on the throne and still settling into his patterns. It was impossible to predict how Turhan would react to the news Shorra brought and the Centauri had no qualms about shooting the messenger.

"You must have a reason for being here, you are usually more aware of protocol."

"Yes Majesty, our beacons have detected a large Narn fleet in hyperspace heading for our borders."

Turhan remained unreadable. "They're heading for Gorash?"

"Yes majesty." Shorra hid his surprise, Turhan was renowned as a canny politician always a step ahead of his opponents, it was how he had become Emperor. "They will be there in two hours. Admiral Malachi has a battlegroup…"

"I am aware of our forces deployment Prime Minister." Turhan interrupted.

"Of course, my apologies Majesty."

"The Narn seek to take the system, it is of little real value, few resources and not much of a colony." Turhan said. "Tell me why we should send our people to die for it?"

"I would not presume to…"

"You may speak freely, I want to hear your truthful opinions Prime Minister. That is why you are still in the position."

"Very well Majesty. We should defend it because it is our territory."

"Did you know Prime minister that the cost of maintaining the colony and patrolling that sector of Space costs us more than the revenue gained from Gorash?" Turhan said calmly. "That it would be economically advantageous to dispose of that system, and that the Narns would be even more burdened by it then we are?"

"True Majesty, it is an expensive location, but it is of strategic importance regarding the Narn border and may serve as a vital base should we decide to…"

"…To invade the Narn?" Turhan finished. "Do you have plans to invade the Narn?"

"No Majesty, of course not."

"But many in the Centaurum would seek to do so wouldn't they?" Turhan grimaced. "I have spent time among them, I know their minds. They wish to strike the Narns for their insolence, to teach them a lesson as they call it."

"That is true Majesty, there are an increasing number of nobles who take offence at Narn aggression, but a direct attack on one of our systems cannot be ignored."

"Nor will it be." Turhan said. "But we will not go to war over this. The Gorash system belongs to House Jaddo correct?"

"Yes Majesty."

"Can I assume Lord Jaddo is waiting beyond that door for an audience with me?"

Once again Shorra was impressed by Turhan's unerring guesswork. "He is majesty, along with Lord Mollari."

"His closest ally." Turhan mused. "I will speak with them." He nodded to his guards who opened the gilded gate and allowed the two nobles in.

Lord Sural Jaddo and Duman Mollari were leaders of two of the more moderately powerful houses, with house Mollari being mainly based on and around Homeworld while House Jaddo had wider holdings but not tremendously profitable. House Jaddo did however have good ties with the Humans after discovering them, and along with House Mollari had achieved some added prestige with their favourable trade deals with the new race. They bowed low before the Emperor, Lord Jaddo was a lithe and tall man with a lean yet fit form which spoke of a warrior. Beside him Lord Mollari was heavier set, but his size was built up mainly of muscle not fat. Shorra was aware that both men and their sons were part of duelling cults and constantly engaged each other in sword fights and unarmed combat, their physical presence radiated power and strength.

"Gentlemen, you seek to petition me?" Turhan said in greeting.

"Yes Majesty." Jaddo spoke. "The Narns will soon attack one of House Jado's possessions. As sovereign territory of the Republic I ask that the Royal Navy be authorised to deploy for battle."

"And Lord Mollari is your second?" Turhan asked. By tradition a proposal such as this needed a second member of the Centaurum to agree so it was not merely a waste of the Emperor's time.

"I am Majesty." Mollari said.

"What will you lose if Gorash falls?" Turhan questioned.

"A science station and the rights to mine and colonize it." Jaddo replied. "And it will be an affront to the might of the Republic."

"I will decide what is an affront." Turhan lowered is voice. "I speak for the Republic Lord Jaddo, not you."

"Of course Majesty. I beg forgiveness." Turhan had not been menacing or threatening in tone, but it was a carefully veiled warning not to push the Emperor just because he was new.

"The Republic does not need a war, nor does it need Gorash." Turhan stated. "When the Narns arrive they will find the science station emptied of anything useful and no Royal Navy ships in the system."

"Forgive me Emperor, I do not understand." Jaddo frowned and looked to Mollari. "You will let the Narns take Gorash?"

"That is correct." Turhan said plainly. "We will not go to war over a drain on our resources. They can have it."

"Please Emperor, its strategic position…"

"Is worthless to us unless we wish to invade the Narn themselves, which we assuredly do not." Turhan spoke firmly. "The Republic will let Gorash go to the Narns if they want it, the Royal Navy will prevent them attacking any further colonies with large civilian populations but will otherwise not intervene. There will be no war."

"Majesty…" Jaddo began.

"The Emperor has decided." Shorra interrupted. "There is no discussion, just compliance or treason. I advise you to carry out the Emperor's wishes."

Jaddo and Mollari bowed curtly and left without a further word, clearly deeply angered and frustrated.

"This will not make me popular in the Centaurum." Turhan said. "Many there still wish to cling to every planet we own just for the sake of keeping our maps looking impressive. Our days of imperialism are over, we will consolidate the Republic and remove whatever impediments get in our way. Gorash is worthless, peace in this time of galactic war is priceless."

"Yes Majesty, I will inform the Centaurum of your decision." Shorra bowed.

"You may leave." Turhan nodded. "I appreciate your opinions Prime Minister, and your loyalty."

Prime Minister nodded in acknowledgement, then backed away before turning. Instantly showing his back before the Emperor was another act forbidden by protocol. He straightened his dark coat as the guards opened the way for him, he didn't relish his message to the Centaurum but at least his head was still on his shoulders.

Turhan watched him leave, the burden of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. The Narn couldn't have picked a worse time to attack and he was sure it was deliberately timed to exploit his current instability. What the Narn didn't understand was that if he was destabilised and lost the throne, his replacement would undoubtedly be one of the more warlike Lords in succession to the title, and if that happened the Narn would have re awakened the lion of the galaxy and find its fangs at their throat.

While deep in thought he was still aware of a figure coming to his side, a light sigh confirming his minds image of his companion. "Morella." He addressed his wife. "You heard the conversation?"

"I did." She said calmly, she commanded a rich voice with a confident tone that came from being royalty. While Morella was hailed for many things in the royal court she possessed one great gift that was known to barely anyone. Morella was a prophetess, a seer of the future and her slightly distant and melancholy demeanour was a direct result of the sorrow she almost constantly saw.

"Will it change the future?" Turhan asked carefully. He knew that Morella's gift never failed her, if she saw a future and advised him how to change it then he would be prepared to take any risk for the benefit of his people.

"It should." Morella replied. "Gorash has a black future, if we do not let the Narns take it then that blackness will affect us."

"Have you seen more in your vision my Queen?" Turhan turned to her. "What more do you know?"

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, Turhan watched her eyelids flicker as she accessed a deeper part of her consciousness. "I see Narns surrounding Gorash, thousands of them floating in space. Their eyes are dead, frozen in the vacuum staring eternally at Centauri Prime in unquenchable hatred. I see the darkness that killed them all. It hungers, it wants war and death, it feeds on our hatred and the hatred of others and it will consume all light in the galaxy. If we do not let the Narns have Gorash they will try and take it in the future, and our people will embrace the darkness to help destroy the Narn." She opened her eyes. "And by letting the darkness into our hearts, Centauri Prime will fall into ruin and despair before this century ends."

"Can you see the true form of this darkness which threatens us?" Turhan asked with concern. "Shall we know it?"

"I cannot see it that well," Morella answered. "It will come as a friend and ally, but will reveal itself as master. I can only tell you that it slumbers now, but the war which rages beyond our borders is slowly waking it. This darkness is old, older than the stars around us and when it moves, worlds die."

"Can we prevent it coming to the Centauri?"

"I do not know, but I do know that if we let Gorash go to the Narns and continue to unite our people then we may turn it back. If not, then we are all damned."

EarthDome, Geneva

The President slumped in his private office, the days events had drained the energy and joy from him as he hand signed letters of condolence to the crew of the _Persephone_. The sudden loss of the ship had shaken him and as President he knew the final blame for its loss resided with him. There were any number of things which could have been done differently which may have prevented the situation but the only one that truly mattered was the decision he made to approve the mission and put those men and women into the path of an invading fleet. He would live with that until his dying day.

"Mr President." Secretary of State Brogan arrived in the office, closely followed by Director Durban and General Denisov. These people were his de facto war council, the most senior and respected advisors in government and the ones who held the most information and experience in crisis situations. Hauser's problem was that to one extent or another they also had their own agenda's so while their opinions were valued he had to be cautious using taking them at face value. It was a lesson driven home by the _Persephone_ incident.

"Sit down please." Hauser said flatly. "We need to talk openly, no hidden plans, no holding back. I need to know the Dilgar situation right the hell now."

"Well Mr President," Durban went first. "There's still a lot we don't know. Our agents in the League are quiet, either blockaded or dead. The Dilgar fleet moves too fast and we can't get a report out before they jam communications and blockade their targets. I've lost five good contacts since the war began without trace."

"So what do we know?" Hauser pressed. "They've knocked out the Abbai and the Drazi are fighting desperately, I guess the Dilgar know what they are doing."

"It would seem so Mr President." Denisov spoke. "Their military is unlike anything in the League, they are disciplined and ruthless."

"Anything more specific?"

"No Mr President, few ships have survived battle with the Dilgar, anything they learned seems to be lost to us either trapped around the Abbai home or floating dead in space."

"You're talking about the _Persephone's_ flight recorder." Hauser said. "Secretary Brogan, any progress in diplomacy?"

"No Mr President, The Dilgar say they will return any recovered crew and items, but we've seen no real progress." The older politician snarled. "I don't trust 'em an inch. If we want our people back we should go and get them."

"If that's your choice sir we have ships ready at Orion." Denisov continued. "Admiral Hamato is prepared to move to Tirrith and take back whatever's left of the _Persephone_ by force."

"No General, that will not be necessary." Hauser said.

"Mr President, they might be holding survivors." Brogan hissed. "They might even have destroyed our ship themselves!"

"Actually Mr Secretary I think that's exactly what they did." Hauser said coldly, his eyes hardening as he spoke. "The Tirrithan defence grid is non existent, there is no crossfire to be caught in and the average cruiser is quite capable of holding off an attack by the entire Tirrithan navy long enough to escape. They use patrol ships for heavens sake!"

"So you believe the Dilgar deliberately fired on an Earth ship?" Brogan frowned. "Well that's an act of war!"

"But without proof." Durban injected a note of calm. "If we can prove the Dilgar destroyed our ship, and that they fired first, it could be used to sway the public to support intervention. If that is what we want."

"Right now that isn't what we want." Hauser raised a hand. "We are in no shape to fight a war with a major power. Sure we can handle border skirmishes and small fleets, but we're looking at a well established race of warriors far more advanced than us. This isn't something to be taken lightly."

"That's why they won't return the ship," Brogan shook his head in growing anger. "Because then they know we'd find out and kick their butts!"

"That would be my guess." Durban said unhappy to side with his rival. "So the question is what do we do about it?"

They all looked to the President who met their gazes without flinching. "Nothing. We take no direct action."

"Mr President, I strongly urge…" Brogan began.

"We will not start a war." Hauser spoke over him. "What we will do is begin a process which will turn the Earth Forces from a defensive organisation into a fully capable offensive fleet which can operate beyond our borders for extended periods of time. General Denisov, is this possible?"

"I suppose so Mr President." Denisov nodded. "It would need an in depth study, our ships are generally short ranged and heavily dependant on staying close to supplies, but if we set up a dedicated fleet train and a system of supply posts, well its possible."

"You have a year to make preparations." Hauser cut off the reply. "I know it isn't long, but by that time I expect to see Dilgar ships on our border and we must be ready to face them."

"But you told the press the Dilgar weren't a threat to us." Brogan stated in mild confusion.

"For now they aren't, and we will stay neutral." The President answered. "But we all know there isn't much chance of the League stopping them in time. The Dilgar fight like no one else the League has seen and they will eventually roll right up to our borders. Tell them in no uncertain terms Mr Brogan that we will not tolerate them moving on our space or threatening our allies the Markab. I doubt they'll listen, but by the time they reach us we will be prepared to halt them by any means necessary."

"We'll need more ships and more people." Denisov said. "It won't come cheap."

"We will inform the senate the ships are to replace our older vessels, and then set up a new recruitment drive offering more money and better terms to anyone who wants to try and find a job in Earth force. We won't launch a draft unless completely necessary and we will keep the buildup as quiet as possible."

"And if it does come to war, then what?" Durban asked.

"Then we fight for our homes and families." Hauser replied. "Because the Dilgar won't be stopped by anything less than full military might. They are conquerors, and maybe in a year, maybe a decade, maybe a century they will try to conquer us. We will be ready for them. If they try and cross us they'll find a wall of starships waiting to great them and drive them back to Omelos."

"I can get these items in place." Brogan nodded. "The senate is already nervous of the Dilgar, if we talk about a bill for stellar security they'll approve increasing the Earth Force budget."

"There are your tools General." Hauser said. "Now you need to make something that will take the war to the Dilgar when it comes." The President picked a report from his desk about the _Persephone_. "Not if, when."

Dilgar fleet, Tirrith.

Jha'dur was facing a dilemma, on the one hand she needed to proceed with pacifying the local space between the Abbai and the Brakiri to pave the way for the invasion. On the other hand she needed to continue her research into the final formula for her immortality serum. Warfare had commanded her attention for the past two months taking her from Abbai space to the Drazi front and now here, while she was fighting she had little time to follow her true passion, the pursuit of life eternal for her race.

She headed to the bridge of the _Conqueror_ with her orders in hand, the fleet was to make for the Malax system and remove any presence it found there. With Tirrith acting as resource base there was no need to occupy any of the other independent worlds nearby, they just had to remove them as threats. What that meant in plain terms was to kill anything that lived in those locations. Reports indicated the Drazi front was meeting stiff resistance but the Dilgar fleets were inflicting heavy losses on the brave but poorly coordinated counter attacks. About a third of Drazi space now belonged to Dilgar fleets and that sphere of influence was steadily growing.

"Warmaster." Captain An'jash acknowledged her as she stepped onto the bridge. "Status is normal."

"What about decoding the human ship's data recorder?" she asked about her main concern.

"Going slowly. Your expert arrived and is on planet but he predicts two or three days before he is successful."

"We have orders to move to Malax and eradicate all life." Jha'dur stated. "What are your thoughts on that Captain?"

"Thoughts Warmaster?"

"Yes." She smiled at the white haired officer. "Thoughts, opinions, ideas. What do you think about wiping out an entire world?"

"It doesn't matter to me. If those are the orders than it will happen."

"And killing a few billion," Jha'dur continued. "This does not weigh on your conscience?"

"No Warmaster. They are just vermin who stand in our way. The Dilgar race should be preserved and honoured, the rest are simply slaves or enemies to be tolerated or destroyed."

The Warmaster regarded her Captain for a moment, and then smiled. "I'm glad you feel that way. You have proven yourself a capable commander and now I am going to give you a chance to show it."

"Thank you Warmaster."

"You will take the fleet to Malax and carry out the mission as you see fit."

"Really? That is a great honour." An'jash worked to contain her surprise. "Where will you be?"

"I have business on the planet below, perhaps my direct presence will encourage the code breakers to work faster."

"Probably will." The Captain narrwed her gaze in a malicious smile. "Also Warmaster we have rounded up a number of Tirrithan prisoners for your attention, a secure laboratory has been set up in a former hospital."

"Most efficient of you." Jha'dur complimented. "My new ship will be arriving soon. I'll keep a small force here to guard the gate while the rest of the fleet leaves with you. Move out as soon as I leave."

An'jash saluted and Jha'dur left to gather her gear. With a smile the Captain stepped up to the Warmasters command chair and gently lowered herself into it savouring the moment. Jha'dur was a sterling commander who was happy to share the glory, An'jash was truly blessed.

Half an hour later Jha'durs armoured shuttle was dropping towards Tirrith. While she was a fully qualified pilot she preferred to leave the day to day travelling arrangements to her guard and accomplice Commander Tar'val, a strongly built warrior and elite of the Dilgar Stormtrooper army. He and his company strength unit were assigned to Jha'dur's personal command and spent most of their time gathering potential subjects for their officer to work on and research. It was a task they performed unflinchingly and without emption, disposing of whatever remained when Jha'dur was finished.

She watched the fleet reform from her window and begin to move away the their next mission without her. She was confident in their ability to do their job without many losses and recognized An'jash as a talented officer, but she still felt a slight twinge as they opened their jump points and left. It was an odd feeling, one she normally associated with family.

"Entering atmosphere." Tar'val said flatly. "We have permission to land."

Jha'dur smiled at that, wondering if anyone would actually have refused her permission. The Warmaster title certainly helped get her what she wanted and served to deliver instant respect from anyone she met mainly due to fear. The dark and light blue uniform was more than just cloth for the Dilgar, it was a direct tap into their rigorous military culture and traditions of unquestioning obedience. When a Warmaster demanded something, it always happened from ordering tea to condemning a world of Billions.

Now that uniform would get her something else. Conquest was a thrill to her much as it was to other Dilgar, but she gained infinitely greater satisfaction from knowledge. In truth she would rather learn a deep secret than conquer a world and she still considered herself a scientist first and a soldier second. It was mainly for this reason she was letting An'jash earn her glory, Jha'dur needed to solve the riddle of the human ship before she continued to overwhelm simple and easy opponents. The challenge in solving this mystery was far greater than just bombing a planet and much less boring, she knew it would gnaw at her until she cracked the answers and found for herself what this human ship was fighting for.

"Landing strip ahead, we'll put down near the research facility." Her companion said.

"Where the data recorder is?" she looked at a rapidly closing building, a former university in the second city of Tirrith.

"Yes Warmaster. Heavily guarded. The hospital is just opposite where your lab is."

She noted the layout of the city on approach, seeing a number of troop transports and armoured vehicles in the bright sunlight, their crews enjoying the weather while infantry cleared out the different buildings working out from the centre. It all seemed quite peaceful with very few buildings actually destroyed or damaged in the landing. The Tirrithans had either been taken completely by surprise or just weren't very good fighters. The craft touched down and a small unit of blue uniformed troops scrabbled up to the ship. They were ceremonial uniforms and held highly polished energy rifles though each was a skilled soldier in their own right. Their task was to defend the codebreaking team from Omelos and Jha'dur guessed to escort any visitors. In the background more soldiers watched the scene, these ones in grey and green mottled uniforms incorporating armour with dull weapons and head gear, the standard battledress of the army.

She stepped off the shuttle to a quick salute from the escort commander. "Warmaster, this was most unexpected." He flustered. "We have not yet fully secured the city."

"That is of no concern commander." She walked directly for the research centre. "I am sure I will be quite safe." Which was more than she could say for anyone who got in her way. "Professor Dra'yash is inside?"

"Yes Warmaster, working feverishly."

"He'd better be."

She walked through the building to a large research room that once had held the university's science department. Broken glass crunched beneath her boots as she entered the white room and looked at the large grey cylinder about six feet in length which occupied the central tables. Five Dilgar scientists were clustered around computers with wires stretching to the cylinder crunching data and trying to gain access to the secrets within. A sixth much older scientist stood behind them overseeing.

"What have you found?" she announced her presence with a direct question.

The older scientist, Dra'yash, physically jumped at her voice in surprise. The man was a prominent mathematician and leader of his field, he was also one of the Dilgar science council who had laughed Jha'dur and her brother out of the academy when she presented evidence of their suns instability. Now she was a Warmaster and it was Dra'yash's turn to feel small.

"We…we are still working Warmaster." He stuttered. "The encryption is surprisingly complex."

Jha'dur walked closer, reaching out and touching the cold metal cylinder. Twisted metal at both sides and in its middle grabber her attention. "Something was attached to this?"

"Yes Warmaster, a transmitting antenna and solar panels." Dra'yash answered with nervous enthusiasm. "It would have broadcast its position to other humans, but it fell through the atmosphere and was unable to do so."

"The Human government wants this returned." She said precisely. "Take the information and then erase the records form here, claim it was wiped in an electro-magnetic pulse. No need to let them know the truth just yet."

"Of course, the technology is a simple mix of fibre optics and crystals. Wiping it after we are done will be easy."

"But extracting the information apparently is not." She glared at him. "I want results before the fleet returns, when I leave this place for Sector 83 I will have the answers to why the _Persephone_ was fighting us." She moved closer. "Or I will personally remove your brain and keep it in a jar."

Dra'yash swallowed nervously and turned his eyes down, letting Jha'dur savour the moment of triumph. She was undoubtedly in charge and she really enjoyed it. "I will be across the compound preparing research. Hope you remain my assistant and not my subject." When she left she suddenly felt infinitely better.

"Warmaster, it'll be dark soon." Tar'val cautioned. "We cannot guarantee this area is secure."

"I'm heading for my lab." She said "Post a guard and have some subjects brought to me. No anaesthetic, I want them conscious for the procedure."

"Yes Warmaster."

"All my equipment arrived safely?"

"It did, though your research assistants will be following on the new Dreadnought." Tar'val said. "With permission, have you thought of a name for your new flagship yet?"

She stopped, suddenly having an idea. She smiled a wide grin as the inspiration came to her. "Yes, as a matter of fact I have." She began walking again. "I'll call it _Deathwalker._"

"My compliments Warmaster, most fitting."

She entered the former hospital and smelled the familiar odours of chemical cleaners common to medical centres across the galaxy. In the distance shouts could be heard most probably from her newest test subjects. "Yes, _Deathwalker_" she mused. Death was her instrument and servant, the Brakiri had awarded her a perfect title and she would revel in it. Death obeyed her, and when her experiments were done life itself would do the same.

Deathwalker continued on into her lab to earn her new title.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 20

Tirrith, Dilgar occupied.

"Are we there yet?" Toby whined. "I don't think I've ever walked this far!"

Paul gave a glance to Jenny, she seemed to have a good idea where everything was. "Are we?"

She gave a quick nod. "Well we're on the way, the main thing is not getting found by a patrol."

"You know what works for that?" Toby piped. "Not being on the planet!"

"If we go in one direction we'll be found." She ignored him. "So we take a winding path and come in from a different angle."

"Speaking of, any luck planning a way into the city T'Koth?" Paul asked, as the only member of the crew who had visited Tirrith regularly and had contacts he hoped the Narn translator knew a secret way past the Dilgar forces most likely ringing their destination, the planets second city.

"There are some transit tunnels which run under the main population centres." He shrugged. "If they got turned off in the attack we can go through them, take us anywhere we want to go."

"And if they aren't turned off?" Jors wondered.

"Then we get four hundred tons of grav train delivering us back to the universe." The Narn smiled thinly.

"I hate this plan."

"Shut up Toby!" The entire group responded. For a few more minutes they continued walking on, the environment around them was spectacular and lush forests with a carpet of brightly coloured flowers. Despite it being early December on the human calendar this planet was in high summer and the warm glow of its sun filtered gently down through sparse clouds, on any other day Paul would be savouring this day and would be completely calm and at ease. Unfortunately he hadn't felt truly relaxed for over two months now with a near constant rush for survival and escape dominating the lives of the _Space Race_ crew, by now they were on the edge of mental fatigue and seriously needed a break, just one chance to get home safely. Paul thought they'd earned it by now, the things they'd all seen were never ever going to leave them.

"Captain." Jors said with sudden seriousness in his voice. "Houses up ahead."

The group stopped immediately and Paul urged them into a stand of bushes beside the simple path they were following. "Get under cover and wait." He found his binoculars. "And be ready for trouble."

He brought his own rifle off his shoulder and made sure it was in working order, then with a furtive glance around he darted off through the trees.

"So we stay here?" Toby frowned.

"You heard the Captain." Jenny looked with great intensity towards the small town. "Could be trouble out there."

"I haven't seen anything." He replied.

"Exactly." Jors whispered. "Nothing, no people, no animals." He looked up. "No birds singing in the trees, no insects, not a thing. Something is very wrong."

Toby paused and listened. There had been something bothering him since they landed but he hadn't known what. His life had been spent with almost constant back ground noise from the dark streets of Beta Durani to the hum of a starship, he had never experienced pure silence before and it was suddenly an unnerving realisation.

"Just stay put," Jors whispered perhaps sensing Toby's growing apprehension. "The Captain will call for us."

"What do you think happened to everything?" he said, now also lowering his voice.

"Doesn't matter." Jors answered. "Whatever it was we're still here, and that's enough for me."

"This place is a graveyard." T'Koth said calmly. "A cemetery put here by the Dilgar."

"We don't know everyone is dead." Jenny said reasonably.

"No, I expect the Dilgar are inviting them over for tea!" Toby hissed. "Come on Jen, you've seen what we've seen."

She did not answer, just looked on forward.

"We need to get out of here." Toby repeated. "Real fast."

"That's what the Captains doing." T'Koth stated. "Can anyone see him?"

Paul Calendar was no soldier but he had good instincts, more than once they'd helped him avoid raiders and if he'd listened to them a few months ago instead of taking one last job he and the crew wouldn't have ended up in this mess. He moved swiftly through some undergrowth at the edge of the town and had a look through the binoculars.

"Nothing." He whispered to himself, scanning the glasses back and forth. "Not a soul."

Lowering the binoculars he took in the whole scene, there was no smoke or ruins to indicate a struggle nor were there any bodies. Personal ground cars were still parked in neat lines across the town and everything looked surprisingly clean in the bright sun. He didn't even notice he had company until he felt an icy cold metal cylinder gently press against his neck. His muscles instantly tightened as the primal part of his mind flicked between flight or fight responses, neither seeming particularly useful with a gun to his neck. With a sigh he raised his hands still holding the binoculars. "I know what this might look like," he began. "But I mean you no harm."

There was a slight snicker which caused him to swallow suddenly, being laughed at with a gun at his neck did not fill him with hope. Much to his surprise the barrel retreated from his neck and there was a slight rustle of leaves as the captor moved behind him.

"Take it easy." An American Brogue said with amusement. "I ain't going to shoot you."

Paul snapped around and came face to face with a grinning human dressed in camouflage uniform and safetying a PPG rifle.

"What the hell are you doing here!" he almost yelled. The Soldier quickly raised his finger to his lips as a sign to quiet down. "What are you doing here?" he repeated quieter.

"I'll let the Sarge explain," the soldier looked around. "Come on, you better come in and let him tell you what's going on."

Paul walked out from the undergrowth, he looked back but he couldn't see his crew which meant they couldn't see him or his new friend. Finding a human soldier, probably more than one if he was going to meet a Sergeant, completely changed Paul's outlook on getting off the planet, he was suddenly far more hopeful. Moving across the town towards an unremarkable looking building he came to the conclusion that these guys must have belonged to the cruiser which was destroyed in orbit, which meant they were orphaned just like his own people.

"Just through here." His guide pointed at the door and Paul carefully opened it and entered. Inside he counted five more soldiers and quickly noted sleeping bags indicating there were more around, probably outside patrolling like this guy.

"Sarge, found two things." The man called. "First the air's clear, we can save the breathers." From the rear of the building a large figure in uniform and fully sealed helmet stepped quickly up, halting slightly when he saw Paul but hiding his expression behind the opaque visor. "You can guess the second find." He finished.

"Alright Ross, head back to your grid." The man identified now as the Sergeant said in an eastern European accent. He unlatched his visor and it retracted into the front of his helmet revealing a craggy and weather hardened face of a man Paul guessed to be in his middle forties. "My name is Sergeant Sosobowski, what's your story?"

Paul heard the door close behind him as Ross departed, a gaggle of troops had gathered at the edge of the room to get a look at him and hear his explanation for being here. There were about seven or eight men and women, most now had lifted their visors or removed their helmets and fixed him with curious stares.

"My names Paul Calendar." He said confidently, though he was anything but confident. "I own a small freighter which got caught up in the invasion."

The mention of his ship got a few murmurs. "You still have it?" Sosobowski asked in a gritty voice, his stare was incredibly focused.

"Yeah, I hid it in the asteroid belt, I doubt the Dilgar will find it." There were some sighs of relief from the troops and grins, Paul guessed they were looking for a way home. "If you guys need a lift, there's plenty of room."

"I think we'll take you up on that Mr Calendar." Sosobowski also gave in to a slight smile. "We've lost contact with our own ship, you didn't happen to see it did you?"

Paul's expression darkened, the room was looking expectantly at him for good news and in this case he couldn't offer any. "I'm sorry, but she was shot down by the Dilgar." His words seemed to physically harm some of the troops, he immediately regretted saying it but there wasn't anything else he could do. Better to know the truth then guess as to why they'd been abandoned. "She tried to hold them back and save some refugees, but there were too many ships and she couldn't hold them all. I'm sorry for you guys, really."

"How did she fight?" one of the taller soldiers asked.

"Like a cornered Tiger." Paul nodded. "She took down more of them than they managed, and she never turned her back, not even at the end."

That seemed to grimly satisfy the men, but the joy at finding a possible way out was now muted by grief. If they'd hoped the ship had escaped or was just too damaged to communicate the truth was a bitter blow to them.

"Any survivors?" Sosobowski asked.

"Not that we saw, and from what I've seen being a Dilgar prisoner is worse than death."

"What do you mean?" a massive dark soldier asked.

"All those rumours on ISN about holocaust and mass murder? They're all true." Paul's expression hardened. "I saw them use biological weapons on a whole planet, destroy ships full of refuges, all of it. And I even got to talk to some Balosians who'd made it out past the blockade of their world, the stuff that went on in there with Alacan slaves just makes you sick."

"We saw something like that, they bombed a camp and wasted our Lieutenant." One of the female soldiers said. "They didn't care about civilians."

"I'm not here alone, I've got four more crew out there waiting for me along with a spare part for my ship up there." Paul changed the subject. "If we can get to it all of us can make a dash for it."

"If?" a man with a single stripe on his arm raised his voice. "If we can get to it?"

"Yeah, you see we kinda don't have a shuttle." Paul said a little sheepishly. "A Dilgar fighter put paid to it."

"Great, that's how are luck runs." The Private scoffed.

"Knock it off Garibaldi." The Sergeant ordered. "Conner, go bring in the Captain's crew mates. I don't want them out there attracting attention."

"On it." One of the men said and skittered out a side door.

"So we're both in the same boat, we need a ride of this rock." Sosobowski looked to Calendar again. "But if we get into orbit you can get us back to Earth space?"

"That's right." He stated. "If we can get through the gate and fix the engines it'll be a straight ride home."

"That's a lot of 'ifs' Captain, you sure you can pull this off?"

"It's the only idea I've got." Paul shrugged half heartedly. "We're heading to a city not far from here, one of my guys thinks he can get us in unnoticed. Then we planned to hijack a shuttle and make a getaway."

"And if the Dilgar got in your way? Then what?"

"I guess we escape or we die." Paul answered flatly. "But we can't stay here, I'll bet New Vegas odds this whole planet is crawling with Dilgar in a couple of weeks, they're gonna hit the League harder than ever soon."

"You seem pretty sure about that." Garibaldi said again.

"I've seen them fight, there's no way the League can stop them and the Dilgar know it. Whatever they want they haven't got it yet so they'll keep on fighting."

"Yeah maybe." Sosobowski said with finality. "But it isn't our business. My only concern is getting this platoon home, and it looks like our goals are the same."

The door opened again and Paul turned to see Jors walking in followed by the rest of his people, each of them almost family by now. They too were looking a little surprised and perhaps slightly wary. It was understandable to Paul, the crew had handled some slightly illegal cargoes when money was tight and a room full of well armed Earth Force soldiers was not something to be entered lightly, they each had some sort of criminal record major or minor and a healthy distrust of authority figures.

"Hi guys, relax." Paul said. "These troops are on our side."

His crew didn't physically appear any more relaxed but they entered the room and kept their weapons slung on their shoulders. For their part the soldiers stayed relaxed and watched the new arrivals roll in, taking special notice of T'Koth.

"You guys got food?" Sosobowski asked.

"We picked up some rations, same sort of meal packs you Gropos will use." Paul fished out an MRE. "Full of everything a growing boy needs."

There were some groans from the soldiers, if any were hoping to trade for a more palatable meal they were clearly going to be disappointed.

"They were just on the edge of town Sarge." Conner reported. "The IR picked them up as we walked them in."

"Good, did you see Ross watching the road?" Sosobowski checked.

"Ross? No sir, not a trace."

The Sergeant gave him a sideways look. "He was heading on the exact path you were."

"I didn't see him sarge." Conner replied. "Maybe he went to answer a call of nature?"

"Ross? No way." Garibaldi stepped forward. "You could set a watch by his bladder, he wouldn't take a break on a watch."

Sosonowski's face visible darkened, his lined features growing craggier in Paul's opinion. As Captain and leader of his crew he'd felt a strong sense of responsibility for them and a deep motivation to get them home no matter what. He could instantly understand the older Sergeants sudden concern for his platoon and concern for the suddenly missing man.

"Garibaldi, take two guys and check it out." Sosobowski made his decision. "Stay frosty and keep radio silence." The need for radio silence answered Paul's unasked question as to why they didn't just call up Ross on his helmet communication system. "Conner, get your section armed, no chances. Go."

It had taken about three seconds for the room to go from casual rest to battle readiness. With silent and fluid motions Garibaldi took the two nearest soldiers, grabbed their rifles and helmets, then slipped out the back door to the building while Conner ran out the front to join his section of troops stationed in a separate building. The remaining men under Sosobowski's command gathered their own gear and set up inside the room keeping back from the windows and taking cover behind walls or sturdy looking metal furniture.

"You guys head upstairs and stay down." Sosobowski addressed Captain Calendar and his crew. "If there's trouble let us handle it, keep yourselves out of our way."

"No argument here." Paul agreed. "Come on, let's find cover."

"We've got guns, we can fight!" Toby said defiantly.

"Don't argue!" Paul snapped. "This might be for real, these guys are trained for it and we so are not." He physically grabbed Toby by the arm, his adrenalin levels were beginning to soar and he was in no mood for pleasantries. "For once do as I tell you."

With a tut he followed Paul, the rest of the crew going without further comment and leaving the ground floor free for Sosobowski to set up his team. There were two rooms each with an outside door and a window made of thick stone which could happily take rifle fire without breaching. It left four possible entry points and the eight Earth force soldiers left in the building made sure they were well covered. As soon as trouble flared they would blast anything that looked in on them, then race forward and use the windows as loopholes. Sosobowski sincerely hoped that if there was an enemy patrol nearby it would just keep on going past, but if they'd found Private Ross there would almost certainly be a search of the town for accomplices.

The room was totally silent, even the breathing of the soldiers was hushed and measured so it was totally imperceptible to the Sergeants hearing. With slow deliberate actions he thumbed the safety interlock on his PPG forward and tightened his grip on the handle. In the silence he closed his eyes and put all his conscious effort into listening, waiting for the tiniest noise to signal they were close to being discovered.

One of the soldiers beside him gave a curt wave to attract Sosobowski's attention. He cupped one hand to his where his ear would be beneath the helmet signalling he had heard something, then gestured at the door. Focusing his entire efforts in the indicated direction it took Sosobowski a few moments to hear what his unit had, decades of firing old style assault rifles had made the Sergeants hearing duller than the newer troops, but eventually he heard the tell tale crunch of boots on gravel. He held his breath, listening intensely as there were unidentifiable scratching noise from the other side of the door along with a faint whisper. If the mystery guest was whispering it meant he wasn't alone. Sosobowski was fighting the urge just to open fire, to blast through the door and shoot down the hidden figure on the other side, but he forcibly restrained himself, it could be a civilian or another lost Starship Captain and not a threat to them hidden in their small house.

With another scratch the door handle moved. It twisted slowly, quietly creaking and rolling on its bearings with inevitable monotony. It wasn't a sudden action, the door was being opened at a deliberately slow pace like the being on the other side did not want to be noticed, instantly rousing Sosobowski's suspicions. There was still a chance it was an innocent and scared civilian, but he tightened his finger on the trigger and centred his thoughts just in case.

With a sudden click that seemed deafening in the silent room the lock slid out and the door ever so slightly opened. A thin sliver of white light entered the room as it swung slowly on its hinges, opening barely an inch at a time as the being behind slowly and furtively pushed it open. The tension was unbearable and rapidly approaching breaking point, an undisciplined unit would have fired by now by miraculously the unit was holding its nerve and its fire.

The door had opened six inches when a harsh whisper was heard from the other side. The door stopped, not quite wide enough open to see in or out of and a hushed and stark conversation seemed to erupt outside. The language was completely alien and Sosobowski couldn't tell if they were talking Tirrithan, Brakiri or Dilgar. The uncertainty was beginning to strain his nerves, he wished that the figure would just stick its head around the door so he could either greet a refugee or just put a plasma ball through its skull and end this excrutiating uncertainty. The whispers grew in intensity before suddenly stopping, then came a rapid scrunching indicating someone moving quickly away. One of the soldiers began to move but Sosobowski gestured for him to stay put, there was still a second individual out there. For a few more heart stopping seconds there was nothing, then with a bang the door slammed shut and footsteps could be heard darting away.

"Stay here." Sosobowski whispered. "Let me check it out."

The burly sergeant carefully raised himself from hiding and with total silence stepped over a metal table that was providing cover. "Nobody move, and keep ready in case…"

Sosobowski's sentence was lost in a sharp clap of thunder as the doorway exploded in a shower of wood splinters and heat. The world spun as he lost all sense of orientation and balance, finally regaining it when he crunched into the wall separating the two ground floor rooms. He didn't even think about the pain of hitting the floor, two decades of training had ingrained itself so deeply in his mind he was already formulating a response to the attack. A figure dashed through the smoking doorway, human in shape moving with speed and grace over the debris and levelling a long barrelled weapon at Sosobowski. Before he could bark the order three separate bursts of fire hit the figure and reduced him to a collapsed heap in the doorway.

"Fire at will!" the Sergeant yelled, the action stabbing pain through his ribcage. "Get to the windows and doors, don't let them in!"

The room was full of smoke, but as he dropped his visor everything went into clear monochrome images as the sensors kicked in. He saw two more hostiles drop in the doorway, the helmet sensors revealing clearly that the aliens were indeed Dilgar with their distinctive feline faces. His section headed quickly to take up firing positions either side of the windows and doorways and moments later they began firing rapid bursts at targets outside, blue energy bolts flashed back as the Dilgar returned the favour. Sosobowski tried to move but his chest refused to let him, sending more pain through his body to drive home the point. He had a good view of the door from where he was, so he took up his rifle and waited for the next Dilgar to try and enter his building.

Upstairs Paul nearly had a heart attack when the door blew inwards. He didn't see what happened but knew it was far from good.

"What the hell!" Toby exclaimed swinging his rifle from his shoulder.

"Watch that thing!" Jenny dodged as Toby pointed the loaded rifle randomly around the room.

"Sit the hell down!" Paul growled. "Everyone, get down and find some cover!"

From below came the new sound of PPG fire, the distorted rumble of the rounds being fired and the hissing sound of the hot plasma interacting with moisture in the air as it travelled to its target. Paul hadn't seen a real gun battle with PPG's and despite his curiosity really didn't want to. The army seemed to be in control of the situation and he was happy to let the professionals handle the defence.

"Its an assault." T'Koth said, as the only one of the crew who'd seen fighting on the Narn homeworld of Nar'Shar Paul was inclined to believe him. "The Dilgar must have found us."

"They've found a crap load of fire power too." Toby grinned. "We should go help." He began to move for the stair well.

"I said stay put, don't make me…"

The windows exploded inwards in a glittering shower of broken shards, instinctively the five crew members shielded their faces and covered behind furniture. Unlike the room downstairs which was divided the upper floor was a single large residential area with numerous furnishings and decorations including a corner full of cooking utensils. There were two windows to the crews left and right embedded in the walls, while the front and back were solid stone where one house was divided from its neighbours along side. Ropes unfurled beyond the now shattered windows and a scraping on the roof indicated movement above them.

"They're coming through the damn windows!" Jors roared, hefting his .50cal rifle up to his shoulder.

"Get in the centre!" Paul yelled. "Hide behind these chairs and tables! Jors watch the left windows with me, T'Koth, Toby, watch right. Jenny, keep an eye on the stairs in case they get past the soldiers!"

They frantically upturned furniture and settled back to back with each other, it reminded Paul of those old western movies when settlers circled wagons to defend themselves.

"We going to actually shoot to kill?" Jenny checked.

"You shoot to stay alive." Paul answered. "Whatever it takes, we clear?"

The group answered in the affirmative. They'd taken lives before, shooting down a handful of Dilgar fighters during the recent escapades their freighter had endured but each time they had never really seen who they were fighting, never seen the lives they'd ended in the course of their own survival. Now they had no choice, the first pairs of legs dangled down from the ropes and swung into the upper floor windows and into the sights of the crew.

The Dilgar plan was surprisingly good, rather than just walk through the front door they had decided to attack the house from every direction at once, sneaking into position and then coordinating their entries to pull apart the defenders and overwhelm them. Coming in on the top floor was risky but could have turned the battle if not for the presence of the _Space Race_ crew. The first Dilgar through the window expected an empty room, instead he came face to face with a smiling Narn holding a shotgun.

"Surprise!" T'Koth said manically, then fired. The close ranged blast sent the soldier hurtling back through the window and dropping to the pavement below. In the same instant the rest of the team fired on their own targets, a chatter of automatic fire joining the fusillade of PPG rounds beneath them.

"Be careful of your ammunition!" Paul shouted. "Short bursts, keep your weapon under control!" Paul had no military training but he'd seen enough war movies to recognize that full auto firing in a house was a bad thing. The room was already full of an acrid smell of cordite and a hint of blood from the Dilgar, it was stomach turning but being sick wasn't an option right now. He gripped his rifle closer and waited for the next target.

Two orbs clinked into the room, dropping through a window and rolling across the floor.

"Grenade!" Paul made a logical guess. "Down!"

The orbs exploded, they were much lighter than human made grenades and didn't generate much shrapnel but the heat from them was like standing behind a _Banshee_ fighter on full afterburners. The furniture took the brunt, the front surfaces bursting into sudden flame along with some light fabrics decorating the wall.

"Here they come!" Jors shouted again. Dark shapes swung in through the smoke and were met once more with rifle fire. Toby hadn't listened to Paul and fired a long burst from his weapon cutting down a Dilgar soldier but taking half a clip to do it.

"Watch your fire!" Paul yelled.

Suddenly blue energy crackled across the room, a Dilgar soldier was hanging outside one of the windows shooting inwards instead of recklessly swinging through with his comrades. The Dilgar energy rifle was far too large to use properly one handed and his fire was random, each round making a sharp crack as it was fired and then almost screaming as it flew across the room, it was a terrifying noise and no doubt designed as much for intimidation as it was destruction. Paul lined up his sights and put three rounds into the soldier's chest, the action almost automatic and instinctive. It wasn't until he watched the surprised face of the Dilgar trooper dropping away as his hand let go of the descent line that Paul realised he had taken a life, and while he hadn't been given much choice it was still a tremendously worrying act for his conscious to grasp. His nostrils stung with the foul smoke hanging in the air, his eyes were watering and the constant firing of his teams weapons in the enclosed room was deafening causing his ears to ring. Every sense he possessed was being battered down and his brain was desperately trying to keep up. Regular soldiers could rely on their training in this situations, filtering out the chaos and single-mindedly doing their jobs, but for the civilian crew it was way to much to handle.

It all reached a crescendo with another massive explosion, this time from the solid wall bracketing the upper floor room. A large section of wall was thrown inwards in a thick cloud of cloying dust and chunks of rock bouncing off the walls and floor like over sized hail stones. T'Koth yelled in sudden anger as one of the rocks crashed into his side. It fuelled the battle rage growing inside the Narn and he spun with a roar of pain and defiance to face the new threat. The blast had opened up a hole into a neighbouring house, and now through that wall Dilgar soldiers rushed forward.

"Take 'em down!" Yelled Jenny, her quiet demeanour now lost as she emptied her rifle into the dusty opening. The swift shadows of Dilgar troops came through the dust, three of them falling to Jenny's attack but more followed on, blue energy bolts slicing across the room and punching the far wall. Paul fired into the clearing cloud, by now almost completely deafened without the protective helmets the soldiers down stairs were wearing, he absently wondered if the platoon fighting beneath them even knew they were under attack from up here too.

With a loud report Jors fired his rifle, a weapon designed by Earth force to kill the biggest alien beasts with a finger sized slug hurled from a weapon infamous for dislocating shoulders when used. The big Swede barely grunted with exertion, accepting the recoil and holding the gun steady. The round punched through at least two soldiers clambering forward into the house, hurling them back and into the still lingering dust cloud. Over his shattered eardrums Paul heard them yelling briefly in agony.

"Grenade!" Jenny yelled, again seeming muffled in Paul's head. A black orb was tossed through the air, sailing gracefully almost squarely for the upturned furniture the team was sheltering behind. Paul was caught be surprise as T'Koth stood up and reversed his shot gun, swinging the stock through the air and connecting with the Dilgar grenade. The orb hit the stock with a crack and went flying back through the opening to cries of alarm from the other side, abruptly ending in a sudden flash and burst of noise.

"Holy crap man!" Toby laughed. "You should sign for the dodgers!" he was almost laughing insanely, where Paul had been shocked by the battle Toby could have been enjoying it, the adrenalin touching them in different ways. Two more Dilgar charged through the smoke, roaring with a piercing war cry but barely made it past the opening before being hit, not by any of the _Race_ crew but by red energy bolts fired from the stairway. Paul swung his rifle around in surprised, none of them had been watching that entrance but found only two Earth force soldiers.

"Hold your fire!" one yelled over his speakers, the visor sealing him into his suit. He quickly unhooked his mask and slid it up allowing Paul to recognize him as Private Garibaldi. "Its cool, its over. Just let the weapon down." He spoke very calmly and gestured with his hand. "We got 'em, just relax man, you guys did real good."

Paul just collapsed down, his legs giving way beneath him as all the energy drained from his limbs. It had been the greatest ordeal of his live, even more shattering than the escape from Utriel. He lolled his head back and closed his eyes, savouring life and trying to avoid the enormity of his actions these last minutes. He had killed living beings, and while he didn't hate himself for pulling the trigger he did hate himself for putting his crew in this nightmare. Looking around his crew seemed equally breathless, Jenny was already fishing out a first aid kit to help T'Koth while Jors sat down and regulated his breath. He still looked eminently calm but behind his eyes Paul knew Jors' conscious was just as torn as his was, but it was Toby who had the most surprising reaction. He sat grinning and rocking in pure excitement clutching his rifle, it seemed the events had affected them all differently. The whole world had gone to hell and it had taken just two minutes and forty seconds.

"Take a minute, then come downstairs." Garibaldi stated bluntly. "This is a long way from over."

Capital City

Jha'dur ran her hands under the tap in her bathroom, the warm water diluting the thick red blood on her hands and carrying it away down the plughole. Her work was progressing nicely and the samples of native life she had been experimenting on had given her a few new insights into Neuro chemistry. Despite evolving on different planets there were certain evolutionary features common to all life she had dissected in her career. From certain social and cultural similarities down to the specific makeup of nerves and neurones in the brains of sentient creatures it was frankly remarkable that such distant and otherwise unrelated creatures had such similar brains. She did not believe in coincidence, there had to be a linking factor to explain this mystery.

A trill computerized voice beeped on and made an announcement from the neighbouring room. "Connection established."

She tried her hands, the blood vanishing away down the sink without leaving a trace on the metal fittings or her conscience. Then she moved into the main living room and pressed a few buttons on the wall mounted communications panel. Her apartment had belonged to one of the administrators of the hospital she had assumed command of for her work, and while not up to her preferred standards it was as good as Tirrithan accommodation got.

"Open a channel." She ordered the machine. "Raise the Abbai blockade force."

A few seconds later the screen changed to show the person she was trying to contact. "Hello Brother."

"Warmaster Jha'dur." He said formally. "What can I do for you?"

She was a little taken aback by the cold reception, a slight shadow passing over her face. "What's wrong? Don't you want to just talk like we used to?"

He stared hard at her across the vast distance. "Things have changed, like while you lead the assault on the League I am sat here babysitting the Abbai."

"You weren't ready for an operational command." She said bluntly. "You proved that with your flawed plans."

"Those plans were given to me by the other War leaders!" he blurted. "I just followed them!" he quickly looked away, acutely aware he had spoken out of turn.

"What do you mean?" Jha'dur's suspicions were suddenly heightened. "Where did the battle plans come from? Answer me!"

"Warmaster Len'char." He sighed. "I wasn't ready sister, I had no idea how to lead a fleet! So he gave me some basic plans and told me to follow them no matter what and let my courage carry me through."

She said nothing for a long moment. Len'char was her political enemy in the council of Warmasters, as head of military intelligence he had more schemes and plots going on than anyone dared to dream and each one was aimed at putting him firmly in the Supreme Warmasters seat when Gar'shan died, a post Jha'dur was destined for. He had been humiliated at Tithalis when Jha'dur's fleet had rescued him from annihilation by the Drazi and it seemed he was trying to strike back by eliminating her brother. There was no way in hell she was going to stand for that.

"You tell me the second he contacts you again, is that clear?" she said flatly.

"Yes sister." Sha'dur answered.

"Our forces are gathering, in a few weeks we will begin again with our great offensive." Jha'dur stepped back and visualized the galaxy in her mind. "We have secured the Drazi front, Tithalis is ours, Latig is a wasteland and Fendamir is under siege, our border there is safe." The Drazi were recognized as the most dangerous foe to fight, but they were bitterly divided and had no strong central command which made their frequent counter attacks bold but disjointed and easy prey for the Dilgar navy. So far the Drazi had lost half their pre war fleet for no appreciable gains. "The Abbai are contained and the minor powers to our rimward border are falling. The Jump routes into our homeland are firmly in our hands, nothing can threaten Dilgar territory which means we can now focus on expansion. Our homes are safe, now we can begin the task of saving our people."

"My calculations showed the sun will begin destabilising by around 2235." Sha'dur said. "Its magnetic field will decay rapidly after that and it will begin releasing dangerous radiation into our home system, probably in a steady stream but there is a possibility of a cataclysmic explosion."

"If it's a gradual process over years we can evacuate most of our people." Jha'dur said. "The government is building underground shelters capable of holding tens of thousands around each major city which will keep the radiation out until we can transport them, but we still need to find a suitable planet."

"The science council is conducting surveys." Sha'dur said. "It won't take long to find one."

"We must act fast to secure it." Jha'dur stated. "We need to roll up the Brakiri, the Hyach, the Yolu, the Vree and the Markab before the end of next year, then concentrate our forces and finish the Drazi in the first few months of the year after before we can begin mass evacuation. We do not tell the people of the sun's fate until after the war ends."

"Avoid a panic?" her brother asked.

"And avoid the aliens finding out about it." She nodded. "If they realise what we are fighting for, if they figure they don't need to defeat us just buy time while the universe kills us for them, then it will make our job much harder."

"Our job?" Sha'dur cocked his head. "My job is to watch the Abbai. Far from hard work."

"Actually I am transferring you to my command." She fought to keep a straight face, hopefully her brother had learned some humility and sense on his less than glamorous assignment. It was a pleasure to bring him back into the action. "You will follow my orders, you will watch how I fight and you will learn. Is that clear?"

"Yes, yes of course!" he beamed. "You want me to lead forces in battle?"

"I have responsibility for the rimward front, we will be hitting the Brakiri and Hyach almost simultaneously which will require a great deal of timing and coordination. I need commanders I can trust to handle different assaults, ones who will obey me without question. I would like you to be one of them."

"It would be an honour."

"No, it will be hard and brutal and get a lot of people killed. This is not an easy assignment and if you fail the consequences will be unimaginable. It is not a honour, it is a fast track to immortality or damnation. You don't have to accept, but if you are at Tirrith in two weeks we will begin. If not I will not think less of you."

The door to the room burst open and her personal guard skidded to a halt in the doorway.

"How dare you!" She yelled. "What is the meaning of this!"

"Forgive me Warmaster, you said you wanted to know immediately." The guard was panting as if he had run a marathon. "One of our patrols called in, they've captured a human."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"They are bringing him straight here for you, the rest of the unit is searching for others a few miles to the south."

She turned to the screen. "I will wait for you here Brother, but not forever. I trust you will make the right choice."

"I will, go on sister, take care of this." He smiled and ended the transmission.

"Get my lab ready." She turned and grabbed her audio diary where she kept her notes. "First we interrogate the prisoner, then we'll see what makes them tick on the inside. Go, and get more forces out to where he was found. If there are more I want them here by the end of the day!"

The guard sprinted out as Jha'dur gathered her scientific tools, an assortment of scanners, knives and saws. The chance to examine a human was like a gift for her, something she had been obsessing about for days. With great enthusiasm she headed down stairs to meet the incoming transport.

South of the Capital city.

"They took us by surprise." Garibaldi explained to Paul as they stomped down stairs. "They were damn sneaky and their uniforms act like ours, suppressing their IR signature so we didn't see them in time to act." Paul still looked stunned and more than a little hollow behind the eyes. "If we had our proper IR detectors set up on the perimeter they'd have been sensitive enough to track them, but all that gear went up when our shuttle got toasted."

The ground floor was a mess with scorch marks from energy weapons everywhere but it was still active with plenty of green clad soldiers walking around and guarding the exits. Beyond the doorway Paul saw dark uniformed bodies piled up outside, the same unit of Dilgar troops who had tried to storm through the upper windows.

"When we heard the firing we ran back to support the platoon." Garibaldi began to explain. "The Sarge split the platoon into two sections, one here and one across the street a few houses down. The Dilgar hit here but didn't spot our other guys so while they were pinned by defensive fire Conner and I linked up and hit them from the back with the rest of the unit. Like shooting fish in a barrel."

"Freddy, got a minute." Tucker waved him over.

"What's the situation?" Garibaldi asked seriously, he'd noticed a few wounded people but hadn't had time to check who they were.

"Private Reiner took a round in the arm, it'll hurt but he's okay." Tucker was the platoon medic with full combat first aid training., unlike some medics though he was also an excellent rifleman. "Private Manilow wasn't so lucky. He got it in the neck, missed his helmet and chest armour by a quarter inch, a freak shot, just real bad luck."

Garibaldi looked across to a corner of the room, a body was hidden by a blanket the hidden shape almost unnoticed among the broken furniture.

"Hell." He cursed quietly. "I don't think I knew him."

"There's something else. It's the sarge." Tucker sighed. "He got hit hard, there's internal bleeding and a lot of broken bones. If we still had the facilities on the _Persephone_ or a field surgery we could try something."

"Wait, what are you saying?" Garibaldi fixed Tuckers eyes with an intense stare.

"I'm saying he isn't going to make it."

Garibaldi blinked for a minute, then without a word went to find Sosobowski. The old Sergeant was slumped by a wall opposite the door, he'd been stabilised but he looked lethargic and confused, nothing like the forceful character of just half an hour earlier.

"Hey Sarge, how is it?"

He looked up and saw Garibaldi, he knelt down and looked with concern at his commander. "Garibaldi, what's the situation?"

"We beat back the enemy, none of them got away or had a chance to radio for help."

"The Dilgar will come looking for this patrol, how many were there?"

"Thirty five to forty." Garibaldi answered. "We're still counting."

"The Platoon did good." Sosobowski smiled weakly. "How did we do?"

"Manilow bought it." Garibaldi admitted. "But those space jockeys we ran into held off an attack."

"Really?" Sosobowski chuckled, but the action must have been deeply painful and he winced despite the morphine. "Guess they were good for something." His face grew serious. "Like I said, they'll come looking for their patrol."

"We're getting ready to move now, I'll have the guys make you a stretcher."

"Don't be an idiot Private." Sosobowski scorned. "I can't even raise my arm, we both know what's going on here."

"I don't know what you mean Sarge," he lied. "We'll carry you outta here and off planet, then we can have the fleet fix you up."

"Don't talk crap." The Polish NCO said bluntly. "Follow the plan, take those fly boys, hijack a shuttle and get gone. You've got seniority on Conner, that means you are in charge."

"Whoa, wait a minute." Garibaldi frowned. "You're still ranking man in the unit. We'll take your orders."

"Garibaldi, you are a smart soldier, don't think I don't know it was you who totalled the Colonels car." Sosobowski smiled again. "If you can get out of that avoiding the Dilgar will be child's play."

"Look, we're almost ready. We'll take you out…"

"Haven't you listened?" Sosobowski growled.

"I heard, I'm just ignoring you." Garibaldi said firmly. "We all make it out together."

"Not all of us." The Sergeant sighed quietly. "Its your job now Garibaldi, get them out of here, get them home."

"Sarge." Garibaldi leaned in closer, the grizzled soldier closed his eyes and exhaled one more time. "Dammit Sarge!" he snapped and in frustration punched the wall. For a moment he was lost in sadness and anger but realised he couldn't give in to those emotions, like the Sergeant had said he had a responsibility now. He stood, composed himself, and then headed back towards the rest of the platoon.

"What happened with the Sarge?" Private Bugs asked, evidently quite worried.

"He's gone." Garibaldi stated flatly. "Grab his weapons and gear, same for Manilow. Destroy his helmet data systems so the Dilgar can't use them then grab your gear, the Dilgar will be here soon."

"We just leave the body?" Bugs wondered.

"We don't have time to bury either of them." Garibaldi answered. "We need to move fast."

"What about Ross, he hasn't checked in." Tucker pointed out.

"He's gone. If he was still around he'd have doubled back when the fighting started."

"You think he's a prisoner?" Bugs put in, none of them liked that idea. Better dead than a prisoner of the Dilgar.

"We can't do anything about it. Just grab your gear." Garibaldi wanted to send search parties and call out on wide band radio but he couldn't, they had to get clear before enemy reinforcements showed up. "You guys." He addressed the _Space Race_ crew. "Ready to go?"

"We're ready." Paul nodded, he still looked ashen but at least his mind was working again. "But we still need to haul this spare part for the engine." He pointed to a trolley with a piece of fashioned metal on.

"Gonna leave a hell of a track hauling that." Garibaldi said. "You really need it?"

"More than anything." Jors answered.

"How much does it weigh?"

"About three hundred pounds." Jors said. "Too heavy to carry far."

"Maybe for one guy." Garibaldi thought. "Turnbow, over here."

A soldier came from the corner, a massive man equal to Jors in height and build but with African American features. "Yeah Freddy?"

"The stretcher for the Sarge, let's put this thing on it and the two of you can walk with it, then we can move cross country."

"Gonna be awkward." Jors shrugged. "But we can do it."

"If that's the plan." Turnbow added.

"That's the plan." Garibaldi confirmed. "We follow the Sarge's plan. Cut across country, get into the city with our friends here and take a shuttle to their freighter. We're neck deep in it now people, the Dilgar know we're here but we've still got some tricks to play. We move quick, we move quiet, we get out of here together." Garibaldi stated with confidence. "No one else gets left behind, we clear on that?"

The group agreed, including Paul's crew.

"Alright then, it's a promise. Lets go home and make sure the folks back home know what we did here and that the Sarge's family know he died with honour. Now lets get the hell off this rock."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 21

Immolan System, Centauri Republic.

With a whistle the thick bladed sword almost took his head off, passing an inch from his throat. Quickly he recovered from the mistake and raised his guard, parrying the second swing with a loud clang of metal, nerves tingling in his forearm as his own sword shuddered with the strike.

"Too slow," his opponent grinned like a beast. "You should be dead."

He said nothing, instead using the opponents taunts to launch a stabbing attack, putting all his weight behind a rapid thrust for the other mans chest. Unfortunately the opponent sidestepped and parried with consummate ease, giving a brief chuckle at the effort. His rage was growing, and the apparent levity of his opponent was digging at his temper and drawing on his passions. He attacked again using strong, vicious swipes to push the opponent back and force him to surrender the initiative. The other man backed away, his face losing its amused expression as he focused on stopping the powerful strikes. Every blow stopped just made him more angry and determined.

"Come on you rabid Learti, try your best!" the opponent called with a snarl, likening him to the predatory creatures that stalked the wilds of Centauri prime. "Call this a fight? I wasted more effort getting out of bed this morning!"

With a roar he swung the blade again, the mockery stinging him into greater action. The sheer strength of the blows were knocking aside his opponents sword and only the mans quick sidestepping prevented him from being cloven in half. He lunged with great strength, and at the last second the opponent sidestepped revealing a wooden support holding up the buildings roof behind him. With eyes widening in horror he couldn't react in time as the tip of his sword buried itself in the wood and lodged tight. The other mans cold blade came to a rest by his neck, and the shiver that rattled his spine was not due purely to the cold of the weapon. He had been beaten.

"You want to control that temper of yours." The opponent said. "It'll get you into trouble one day." He lifted the blade away from his neck. "That was very enjoyable Londo."

Londo Mollari straightened up, breathing heavily from the duel. "Another two seconds and you would have been mine." He strained against his sword, yanking the weapon out of the wooden support. The weapon was known as a Coutari in the Centauri language and was a short sword with a thick blade used to stab or bludgeon enemies. It was a simple design and a few alien cultures had equivalent weapons, the Drazi had something similar and the ancient Roman Empire on Earth had equipped its armies with an almost identical weapon. It was archaic now and very few Centauri still used them in this era of particle guns and lasers but there were still many duelling societies in the Republic determined to keep the tradition alive, and House Mollari fervently believed in tradition.

"For a moment I admit you almost had me." His opponent and friend Urza Jaddo smiled. "If it hadn't been for you not seeing the huge wall over there it could have gotten quite interesting. I may have broken a sweat."

"Yes, yes." Londo grumbled. "Very amusing I'm sure." He unbuttoned his thick duelling jacket designed to protect the wearer from the worst of any impact they suffered. Londo, Urza and the other duellists in this particular brotherhood of swordsmen rarely pulled their punches and the jacket was the only thing preventing a painful wound becoming fatal but even so Londo had received a number of broken bones and bruises in his time. "You are a very sneaky Centauri, you know that?"

Urza laughed, not only were Londo and he firm friends but the noble houses they belonged to were old allies who counted their allegiance back to the harsh days of the first Republic during the Xon war, long before even technology was created let alone space flight. Even the shifting politics and changing loyalties of the glory days of the Republic had failed to break the bonds of friendship both noble houses shared and even in the current turmoil of Turhan's ascension to Emperor nothing could separate House Jaddo and House Mollari. "Come on, I have a cask of Brivari waiting to be drunk."

"Ahh, at least you are gracious in victory." Londo laughed out. "Almost killing you is thirsty work!"

"Letting you win for a few moments until your pride tripped you is also thirsty work!" Urza grinned in response. "Let me tell you again about the time house Jaddo saved the Republic from the Orieni!"

"Every time you tell that story your ancestors destroy more fleets of vicious enemy ships!" Londo laughed. "Two more tellings and you will be responsible for the rise of the whole Republic!"

"I thought you knew that already!" Jaddo replied good humouredly. "Find a glass and join me!"

The two men pulled up a pair of chairs, they were both young and only just entering the limelight of house politics. They had gone through the schools and academies of the home world and were now expected to join either the Royal Navy or the diplomatic corps to increase their profile and carry on the good name of their family. Urza was the son of the head of house Jaddo, Lord Sural Jaddo, while Londo was a little further down the pecking order as his father was brother to Lord Caius Mollari, the head of his family.

"To the Republic." Londo raised his glass.

"The Republic." Jaddo joined him and they both downed the spirit in one gulp. "Oh yes, now that's good Brivari."

"Quite a kick, it would floor a Narn!" Londo laughed.

Their revelry was interrupted by the doors crashing open, the dark wood bouncing back from the walls as they hit. Instinctively they both jumped and grabbed the Coutari swords they had been sparing with but relaxed slightly when they recognized the man striding in with a face like thunder.

"Father." Londo frowned. "I thought you were on Centauri Prime."

"Things have changed." He grimaced. "A Narn fleet has crossed our territory and has deployed at the edge of the Gorash system."

"Gorash?" Urza exclaimed. "House Jaddo has a responsibility to protect that system."

"And House Mollari has a duty to support you." Londo stated. "Then we are preparing for battle?"

Duman Mollari sighed wearily, his head low. "We do not. The Emperor is going to cede Gorash to the Narn, he is working on the official announcement and terms."

"He cannot!" Londo practically shouted. "The Narns attack and we just run away! The Republic will be the laughing stock of the galaxy!"

"The Emperor has spoken, the Royal Navy will not be deployed and the Republics forces will not contest the system. If the Narn want it they will be allowed to have it."

"This is intolerable!" Urza yelled. "What is the Emperor thinking!"

"He does not want a war." Duman shrugged. "Your father is evacuating the system, House Mollari will be sending its forces to assist and cover the withdrawal."

"There must be a way around this." Londo said in desperation. "A way to keep the Narns out of our space."

"The Emperor has spoken."

"Yes, he said he wouldn't send his forces into battle." Londo spoke quickly. "He didn't say our own house forces couldn't fight, especially if the Narns attack us as we evacuate."

"Londo, don't even think that." His father said sternly. "To play words with the Emperor is a certain way to lose your head."

Each of the Centauri houses was considered responsible for protecting their own trade and assets, this meant that each maintained its own legitimate armed forces including frontline warships and ground forces. While the Royal Navy was under the Emperors direct control and had vastly more ships than the combined might of all the noble house forces the fleets under houses Mollari and Jaddo were still a considerable force and surprisingly well trained for what amounted to Militia units.

"If our two house fleets united we might have the strength to drive off the Narn and not involve the Emperor." Londo said. "All we need to do is make sure the Narn make the first move, then it is self defence."

"You are playing with fire son."

"Father, listen to me." Londo said passionately. "You and I both know the Centauri will be shamed by this. Turhan is new, he doesn't realise what he is doing! We can save the Republic from this shame but also make sure the Emperor saves face."

"And prevent us from losing our heads." Urza added. "I doubt Turhan will like it."

"But the people will!" Londo enthused. "If the public see us fighting the Narn they will demand the Emperor does something, he cannot refuse!"

"You risk making an enemy of the Emperor, House Mollari does not need that." Duman warned.

"He won't be able to act against us if the people are behind what we do. No one wants to give the Narn planets, they will not oppose the Emperor if he orders it but he cannot do so if we fight a battle there. His power is still weak." Londo smiled. "In twenty years he may even thank us."

"I doubt it." Urza sighed. "But we can't let the Narns do this. We must act with or without the Emperors blessing, we must adhere to the old spirit of the Republic, the Lion of the Galaxy."

"It will work father, I am sure of it. Just let us try." Londo pleaded. "We owe it to house Jaddo to help them save face."

Duman nodded, his face more relaxed than when he arrived. "I will talk to the elders, let them know your proposal."

"I urge you to do so quickly." Londo said. "We must act before the Emperor formally cedes the system, if we move after that it will be treason."

"It might be treason anyway." His father said. "but our alliance is an ancient one, and if honouring it costs me my head then it is a small price for the heritage we pride ourselves on. We will let you know." Duman turned and trotted off eager to tell his peers about the new development.

"Think it will work?" Urza asked quietly.

"I do not know my friend." Londo shrugged. "The Republic is not what it used to be, dealing with Narns when we should be crushing them?" he poured more Brivari for himself and Urza. "Bah! It is a sorry state of affairs, one you and I will correct."

"Still planning to single handedly restore the glory of the Centauri Republic?" Urza smiled and took the glass. "You are a dreamer Londo."

"Perhaps, but the Narns are pushing us too far." He raised his glass. "And we will teach them a sharp lesson. To glorious battle."

"To victory." Urza clinked his glass and downed another shot of the drink. "Yes, good Brivari."

Londo savoured the fine spirit, in a few days he expected to be savouring the taste of victory with equal relish. Whether it wanted to or not the Lion of the Galaxy was going to roar once more.

Altair sector, Earth Alliance space.

"No." Admiral Akira Hamato said concisely. "It would be a great mistake."

"Just hear me out sir." Vice Admiral Anne Thornhill continued. "We could be in and out of there in ten seconds flat."

They were seated in what passed for an Admirals stateroom on board an _Orion_ class station orbiting Altair. As a major jump network nexus and a location close to Markab and League space the system had a high strategic importance, especially with the recent Dilgar crisis.

Admiral Hamato had brought his 3rd fleet from Orion colony to Altair to cover Earths effective front line in the unlikely event the Dilgar ever made it this far towards the rim and was responsible for drilling his ships in the best way to combat the Dilgar, a hard task considering very little information had been gathered about the Dilgar capabilities. However Earth Force command had made a shrewd move in appointing Admiral Hamato, the short and unassuming Japanese officer possessed one of the most complex and thoughtful minds in the military, the sort of officer who could carefully contemplate every possible situation and have a contingency plan ready to deal with it. In wargames he had never once fallen for a surprise attack or risked his forces without justification and those characteristics ensured his rise to command. Some said that he was too rigid and in a real war would have trouble adjusting to the flow of battle, but as far as his subordinates could tell Hamato had not once lost control of a situation, from fleet wide exercises to stirring his tea, he treated every action with total belief and concentration.

"Expeditions toward the front lines are restricted by executive order." Hamato stated calmly. "We have our orders."

"We wouldn't be on the front lines, just passing close by when we accidentally jump into the wrong system." Thornhill replied. "A honest mistake."

"A dangerous lie." Hamoto corrected. "We would be risking too much for no appreciable gain."

Admiral Thornhill had come to her commander with a simple idea, she wanted to take her squadron of warships on a deep patrol of neutral space between the League of Non-Aligned worlds. It was the sort of thing Earth force had done before though not very frequently and certainly not in this time of war. Only one expedition had entered League space since the Dilgar opened their war, and that ship had never returned.

"Anne," Hamato said with a gentle tone in his voice. He was usually very distant and cool but in truth had a warm side and as much compassion as anyone else in the fleet. "I know the _Persephone_ was one of yours and you must feel an obligation to go and find out what happened to it."

"I didn't believe the official report." Thornhill said firmly. "Captain DeVierre was far too smart to get caught in a cross fire, if his ship was destroyed its because it was deliberately targeted. It was no accident."

"Perhaps, but I cannot let you go to Tirrith to find out, it is too far away, at least a week even on the most direct route."

"Admiral please, we can't just turn our backs on them, that isn't Earth forces' tradition."

"There is no evidence you will find anything." Hamato said. "By now the Dilgar will have cleaned up quite thoroughly."

"And what if there are survivors, then what?" she said. "We will be abandoning them to the Dilgar! We both know what that means."

"If the stories are to be believed." Hamato qualified the situation, both were aware of lurid stories of torture leaked from League worlds.

"We need to know Admiral, even if we don't enter the system we should hang around in hyperspace and scan for signals or distress calls, maybe even the data recorder from the ship itself."

"We can't predict what the Dilgar will do if they find you monitoring a system they have claimed." Hamato said. "They may simply attack you, they seem aggressive and have no compunction about firing on vessels without warning."

"I'll take the risk sir, and I know my crews will follow me if it means finally putting the _Persephone _to rest."

"I'd like to autorise it, I'd like to know what happened." Hamato sighed. "But the politics are complicated and the risks too great. I'll take to the joint chiefs about it but I fear we must let go. The _Persephone_ and her crew are gone, either dead or taken beyond our ability to retrieve them even if we used force. Given the alternative let us hope they died quickly."

"We can't give up on them sir, we can't."

"Admiral, there is nobody left to give up on." Hamato stated. "Return to your command, Earth Force is sending us the _Brooklyn_ to replace the _Persephone_ in your squadron, it will take most of your time to integrate the new ship into your tactical formations and cross training. Move on Admiral, if you try anything foolish it will cost you your job, and possibly the lives of your entire squadron." He looked his troubled subordinate directly in the eye.

"There is nothing the Earth Alliance can do for the _Persephone_ now."

Tirrith, Capital city.

Jha'dur was waiting in the doorway of the hospital as the armoured transport screeched to a halt in the forecourt, no doubt mirroring the course of ambulances serving the building before the Dilgar arrival. The doors at the rear of the transport were flung open and two well armed soldiers in black uniforms and covered faces sprang out. She recognized them as Spectre troops, one of the elite units of the Dilgar Imperium often given small but important jobs. There were a handful of the small teams on planet along with the more common and aggressive Stormtroopers and thousands of regular troops. The fact the Dilgar used a variety of different military forces was one of the things that made it stand above most other armies, while they had merely general troops the Dilgar army had specialised forces for specialised roles which had proven hugely successful so far. It was a source of great pride for the army and the Battle masters who controlled ground operations.

Another figure was forced from the vehicle, he was the same height and build as the Spectres but wore a green uniform rather than black and had his hands bound to his back. Jha'dur instantly recognized him as human, the photographs and descriptions acquired from the Centauri left no doubt. His face was bruised and bloody indicating he had put up a struggle but the Spectres had him well under control. Two more clambered from the transport and together moved the human towards the building.

"Your prisoner Warmaster." The leader reported, loose black material covering all his face except for his yellow eyes.

"Take him inside, operating theatre one." She stood to one side clearing the way. "Tie him down and then return to your duties."

The troops moved in and pushed the prisoner into the building directing him towards Jha'durs prepared medical room. She followed on in fascination, her research telling her that this man was a human soldier, a fighting man like those who had tried to turn back the battle in orbit. Analysing a new species was always a thrill, a task of discovery which reminded her of her early days and the reason she started out as a scientist. She was particularly interested to know if his brain exhibited the same chemicals as every other species she had examined.

"Warmaster." A voice said from behind. She turned to see a fifth Spectre stood behind her, she hadn't even heard him step up.

"Your reputation for stealth is well deserved." She smiled, too excited to be annoyed. "What is it?"

"The humans equipment." The Spectre was clutching a tangle of pouches and a helmet. "Where shall I put it?"

"Does it work?"

"Yes Warmaster, but all data is encoded. We can't crack it."

She sighed, but the though of the inevitable vivisection kept her spirits up. "Take them to the university." She pointed to the building a couple of hundred yards away. "Give them to the team researching the data recorder from the human starship, it may help them crack both systems."

"At once Warmaster." The man hurried away, and moments later his comrades reappeared, saluted Jha'dur and left to return to the hunt. Other humans were believed to be in the area and Jha'dur wanted as many specimens as possible. She entered the lab, noting her personal guards headed by Tar'val stationed within and the human chained to a medical bed, then with a smile she approached.

"Hello." She said in perfect English. "How are you?"

The soldier looked a little surprised at hearing her speak his language, but the look quickly passed. "Accommodation could do with improvement, and the taxi service on this world is rubbish."

She continued smiling. Jha'dur was quickly learning English from stolen Centauri language files but despite being a quick study it had been less than a week since she started. She activated a translation computer on a nearby desk which would handle the job far more effectively until she finished her studies.

"Welcome to Tirrith." She continued. "Are you alone here?"

"Nah, I've got the goon squad for company." He looked at the guards around the room. "And you of course, I'm guessing you're in charge?"

"That would be correct." She nodded.

"In that case I have an important message," the soldier grinned. "Go screw yourself."

Jha'dur raised an eyebrow at the translation. "Interesting suggestion." She replied coldly. "You're name is 'Ross' correct?"

"Wow, you can read my name tag. I can see why they put you in charge, I mean with that sort of skill the galaxy will bow before you."

"You mock me, if you knew what I did for a living you would have a lot more respect." Jha'dur kept an even tone, fascinated by the human.

"Girl, I have more respect for the guy who scrubs the latrines." Ross smiled. "So I guess you start torturing me right?"

"Sooner or later." She said. "I want to know how you operate your equipment so I can use those principles to access the data in your ships data recorder."

"Good luck, that battle management system is damn complex, even I haven't figured it out yet." He explained. "I just got what the 'birds and the bees' meant. It ain't what you'd think."

Jha'dur moved closer. "I want to know how many of you there are on planet and where you are going."

"There are four of us, our leader is a chick called Dorothy and we're off to see the wizard." He lowered his voice. "The wonderful wizard of Oz."

"You are wasting my time." She sighed. "Which makes me bored, and when I get bored I need to find something to do." She picked up a syringe filled with a blue liquid. "So once again, how many and where?"

"It's slipped my mind." Ross stated.

Jha'dur moved closer. "You must realise its all over, there is no way out of here, no rescue for you or your friends. If you are helpful I may let you live to study your behaviour, if not…" she tapped the syringe.

"You really don't get it? We humans don't take well to threats. We're a stubborn bunch."

"All the more satisfying to break." The Warmaster grinned. "Your ship fought well."

"What ship would that be?" Ross said. "I have no idea."

"The Earth Alliance ship _Persephone, Hyperion_ class, launched August 2216 at the Rocketdyne yards at Proxima III." Jha'dur smiled. "Your 'Galaxy Net' is an ingenious thing, I found an electronic site called 'Jane's fighting Starships of the galaxy' which was very helpful in gauging your fleet strength. However it did not go into specifics about your technology, I think the data recorder we recovered will and you will help us."

"Tempting, but I have a counter proposal." Ross said. "How about you kiss my lily white…"

Jha'dur moved with incredible speed and pushed the needle into Ross' neck, the sharp twinge silencing him. "This is not a game."

"No, but the chains and needles are pretty kinky." He whispered. "What is it with you chicks who enjoy that?"

"My patience grows thin, I am a busy woman."

"Well boo hoo, unchain my hands so I can wipe away the tears."

"I know there are more of you, you didn't wipe out a detachment of stormtroopers single handed, there must be at least fifty of you."

"At least." Ross swallowed. "More like a hundred, and that's all I'll tell you."

"It's a start." Jha'dur said. "Wasn't hard was it?"

"Pretty unimaginative interrogation though, you had much practice?"

"No." Jha'dur leaned in closer. "By this time I usually have a subject's guts out in a little tray while they scream for mercy and death."

"You're a bitch, and someday soon you're going to land in a whole world of crap."

"That was an insult, you don't want to know what happened to the last person who insulted me." She leaned in less than an inch from his face. "You are alive so I can study your mind, when you are no longer interesting I'll scrape out your skull and probe your mind in a more direct manner. So I suggest you give me what I want."

"Well, I don't usually go for brunettes, but if you like I can…" he whispered his opinion of what Jha'dur needed to make her day.

"I see." She answered. "Well, that's where I'll begin the dissection." She smiled coldly. "Until then, here's a taster." She injected the blue liquid, then stepped back. "It's a formula of my own making, a pain serum which attacks the nerves across your body. It will be quite horrific for a few hours. When you recover we will talk again."

"You better pray I don't get out of here!" Ross called after her. "Because if it kills me I'll see you dead!"

"Your defiance is futile." She opened the door. "One way or another you will help me understand humans, either by talking or by becoming my first human dissection. Make a choice, I'll be back in the morning."

"How's this for understanding?" he raised his arm slighty and extended his middle finger. "Try that for a cultural exchange!"

With a smile she stepped out and headed away, she still had plenty of work to do on this planets natives, though it was eclipsed by having such an incredible new opportunity to exploit. The Human was incredible, he clearly knew what was in store but didn't seem to care. Any logical being would have been shivering in terror even if they did not know the reputation of 'The Deathwalker' they should know something. His tenacity was remarkable and she would take great pleasure in seeing how long he could go without breaking. This would be an excellent week for the progression of science and understanding.

To the south.

Garibaldi took a quick bite of his meal bar, an unappealing beige material with all the nutrition he needed for an afternoon. It was terrible to his refined tastes but it was something he could eat on the move which made it indispensable. The survivors of red Platoon were at least well provisioned but still far from home and safety. The loss of their Sergeant had been a terrible blow, Sosobowski was the man they all looked up to and the most experienced veteran amongst them all. His loss was a serious knock to their chances of getting off world alive and they all knew it. Despite Garibaldi's determination the unit's morale was at rock bottom.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" Garibaldi asked Paul Calendar. "We can't use the helmet maps, gotta keep energy emissions low."

"South of the city, maybe fifteen miles out." He said. "We're in the woodland that connects to it, passing by Mount Tirrith." He pointed to the towering rock face a few hundred yards away. "You can see that from the city."

"You ever been?" he asked.

"No, but my translator T'Koth has." He nodded towards the Narn walking ahead of them. "He knows the way."

Garibaldi didn't answer. They had been walking through featureless woodland for the past few hours trying to put as much distance as possible between the scene of the fire fight and themselves so when the Dilgar arrived to investigate they would find nothing. For a while after they started moving there was a lot of airborne activity, using the tree canopy as cover the group appeared to avoid detection and over the time the activity had shifted south. Garibaldi figured they were searching in the opposite direction the platoon was heading, reasoning they wouldn't be stupid enough to head towards the central Dilgar HQ. However Garibaldi was plenty stupid enough, maybe it was a master plan but he personally felt it was a huge mistake.

"Getting close to dawn." Private Conner spoke. "We should take cover for a while."

"Yeah, lets take shelter by the mountain, find a cavern somewhere." Garibaldi nodded. "We could use a rest."

The group altered their direction, the unit was well spaced out to avoid ambushes with the civilian _Space Race_ crew and the engine part in the centre and the infantry covering all sides at a safe distance but still in visual range with their buddies in case one 'disappeared' like Ross. They found a sizeable cavern and headed in, the civilians and first section sitting down and taken a rest while second section spread out around the entrance and watched for movement.

"We'll take four hours rest and sleep, then change places." Garibaldi told Conner. "After your section gets some sleep it should be getting dark enough to move again."

"Sounds good Freddy." Conner agreed. "See you in four." He darted off into the woods and vanished into the undergrowth leaving Garibaldi to walk further into the cavern making sure no one was near the open entrance.

"Freddy, looks secure." Private Tucker said. "There's no way in at the back, just the front opening."

"Alright, get bedded down, I'll see what our guests are up to."

He went deeper into the cave, it was dimly lit with red low level lighting provided by the troops survival kit, they couldn't risk anything brighter. While Garibaldi's section rested by the middle of the cavern the civilians were right at the back, the whole cave was about eight feet tall and three hundred yards deep with a few twists along its length.

"You people settling in?" he asked.

"Yeah, pretty good thanks." Paul nodded. Truthfully it was uncomfortable and terrifying but after all that had happened he wasn't complaining. "We staying here all day?"

"Until its dark again." Garibaldi confirmed. "You'll have about eight hours, get some sleep."

"You need a hand with guard duty?" Toby volunteered enthusiastically. "I can help."

"Thanks kid." Garibaldi smiled. "But its covered, get some rest."

He looked a little disappointed, but settled down. Garibaldi straightened up and made to move away, his own fatigue ambushing him as he relaxed.

"Hey, Garibaldi." Paul stepped up. "I wanted to say we're sorry about your Sergeant, he seemed a good guy."

Garibaldi lowered his eyes and nodded sadly. "Yeah, there aren't two guys like that in the world."

"Its hard work leading, especially when you are dropped in a hell hole like this." Paul stated supportively. "I've been there, still am in fact." He looked to his own crew finding space to lay amongst the rocks. "But you'll do good, and we can get out of here."

Garibaldi nodded. "We can try." He sighed. "Anyway, I think you guys should get a bit of an upgrade, your weapons are okay but we've got two PPG rifles going spare and my guys are getting bored of hauling them."

"You sure?" Paul said. "You wanna give us your Sergeants weapon?"

"He'd have liked that, that way it'll still kick butt with the rest of the platoon." Garibaldi smiled at the thought. "Give them to your best shots, they're just like regular rifles but no recoil."

"Thanks, it'll help." Paul returned Garibaldi's smile. "Did I thank you for rescuing our butts?"

"Get us off planet and we'll call it even." Garibaldi chuckled.

At that moment a bolt of blue energy crashed into Garibaldi's chest hurling the soldier back with a shocked exhalation of breath. He hit a wall and fell smoking to the floor.

"Holy…!" Paul staggered backwards and tripped on a rock, falling heavily. The blue energy weapons fired again, clearly more than one of them and lit up the dark room. To his amazement the fire was coming from within the cave near his own crew.

"Down! Down! Down!" the voice of Tucker yelled and the weary troops moved with sudden speed rolling down and sheltering behind larger rocks. Paul turned and saw two figures wearing black uniforms laying down full auto fire in the cave, their weapons identical to the Dilgar rifles he'd seen earlier at the house.

A roar grabbed his attention as Jors ran at one of the soldiers, swinging his massive fist at the nearest Dilgar head. The black clad soldier ducked, momentarily ceasing fire and Jors fist swung past. With a vicious move he slammed the stock into the big mans chest and used Jors momentum to drop him to the floor, then raised his rifle to finish him. Before he could fire T'Koth was there, knocking the weapon to one side and physically clawing the helmet off the soldier. He ducked back and tried to shoot the Narn but by the Toby was there as well, grabbing the weapon and pulling it from his grip. The Dilgar wasn't done though, driving his fist into T'Koths chest with unthinkable force and dropping the breathless Narn with rapid speed. Faster than the eye could follow he kicked out at the same time and sent Toby sprawling.

The second Dilgar was still firing from cover, the first red PPG rounds sailing past but the unarmed soldier was behind a little twist in the cave keeping him safe from the gropos fire. That meant it was up to the _Race _crew. As Toby dropped and Jors righted himself Paul made his move too, he charged the soldier and lowered his shoulder aiming to take him in the back and bowl him over. Remarkably he missed, the Dilgar sidestepping as Paul passed and tripping him, sending the Captain face first into the hard floor. He rolled to see Jors land a crushing blow on the soldier's chest, following with a second to the head which sent the alien spinning. He closed in, but the Dilgars arm lashed out grasping a bright knife, the blade cutting into Jors upper arm and causing him to step back. The black clad warrior was far too good to take hand to hand, Paul quickly looked around for a better weapon, seeing Garibaldi's PPG on the floor where he'd dropped it. He began crawling over, but then felt a crushing weight pressed on his back, the boot of the Dilgar soldier. He braced himself and waited for the knife, but then the pressure was released. He spun around to protect himself and stopped in surprise.

It was Jenny, the half Japanese weapons officer was striking the Dilgar soldier with blurringly fast attacks, her arms and legs lashing and blocking with incredible skill. The Soldier slashed the knife at her throat, and she bent back almost double letting the bright blade cruise past, then punched up in the Dilgars armpit physically dislocating his shoulder. With a yelp the man backhanded the knife which Jenny stopped, grabbing his wrist and twisting until he dropped the knife. She grabbed it from the air before it fell six inches and used her grip on his harm to toss the soldier over her shoulder, tracing the knife across his neck while he was still in the air and rushing away before he even landed, clawing at his open throat.

She was on the second soldier in an instant, he had no time to turn the rifle before she buried her heel in his face, following up with a powerful punch to the windpipe which effectively ended his days. Paul was utterly shocked, he had never even dreamed the slender girl was capable of such visceral violence. He was even more shocked when another black clad warrior emerged out of thin air, his form ripple into existence. He yelled a warning but Jenny was already there, disarming the soldier, kicking his knees so he dropped down and the expertly breaking his neck. After the dull snap silence returned to the cave, only the heavy breathing of the occupants letting him know he wasn't deaf.

"What the…" Toby spoke. "Dilgar Ninjas!"

Paul didn't answer, his gaze was completely locked on Jenny and she met it straight on for a moment, then looked away. She had never even hinted at these skills and there was nothing in her past record about being an expert martial artist.

"Paul." Jors said. "Paul!"

He broke away from Jenny, the soldiers rushing forward towards where Garibaldi had fallen and to make sure the Dilgar were dead. He staggered to his feet and walked over. "Yeah, hey you okay?" he nodded at the wound in his pilots arm.

"T'Koth's dead." He answered flatly.

Paul didn't get it straight away, the news had to settle in his ears for a moment. "What?"

"He's dead, that Dilgar soldier killed him."

Paul looked down on the Narn laid up against the wall, his neck had been cut with the knife used by the lead trooper, the one he had himself been killed by.

"No way, this didn't just happen." First Jenny turned out to be the new Bruce Lee, then one of his oldest friends ends up dead at his fleet. "This didn't happen! What the hell is this!" he spun to face Jenny. "And just who the hell are you!"

She did not answer, and before anything else was said two soldiers stepped up.

"That shouldn't have happened." Paul was hugely relieved to recognize Garibaldi, his chest armour was smoking and it looked like he was in pain but thankfully alive. "How did they get in here?"

"Chameleon suits." Jenny said in hushed tones. "I'd heard about them, they make a wearer invisible to light and EM scans. They just walked right in before firing."

"What? What are you talking about?" Paul said emotionally. "Where did you hear about this crap, and where did learn to fight like that?"

"That wasn't normal martial arts." Garibaldi said. "I saw it all, Martial arts teach you to defend and immobilise, not kill in three moves. You didn't learn that in a gym."

"What?" Toby looked between Jenny and Garibaldi. "Jenny's a ninja too?"

Paul grabbed her, the anger consuming him along with grief. "T'Koth is dead! Who the hell are you!"

She didn't try to resist, her eyes almost sad. "I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry."

"Who are you!" Paul demanded.

"My names not Jenny Shoku, its Jenny Sakai, Earth Force Special forces."

He let her go, his mouth gaping wide open. He stepped back shaking his head.

"Girl," Garibaldi raised his rifle, Tucker followed suit. "You have some real explaining to do."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 22

Tirrith Star system.

Garibaldi kept his rifle aimed at the seemingly frail looking girl who served on the _Space Race._ He figured she was only in her mid twenties but the way she'd taken apart the Dilgar troopers made him extremely cautious. Tucker and Bugs were also training their weapons on her as a safety measure while the rest of the section held back now fully alert and looking for an explanation.

"What was that!" Conner skidded to a halt in the cave. "Did someone fire?" his question was answered when he saw the three Dilgar operatives on the floor. "Guess so."

"I'm waiting for some answers." Garibaldi said flatly. "You've been lying to us and I want to know why before we go any further."

"How could you do that?" Toby glared at her. "You were one of us and for over a year you played us! You were family!"

Paul said nothing, he just fixed her with an icy stare. She looked at him with genuine regret but couldn't hold his gaze.

"We deserve to know." Jors said angrily as he knelt by T'Koth, Private Harlow bandaging his arm without him hardly noticing.

She nodded slowly. "Yes you do, and I swear now nobody was supposed to get hurt."

"Guess you kinda blew it then huh?" Toby spat.

Jenny sighed and sat down on the floor, her every move watched tensely by the soldiers covering her. She could disarm one of them, maybe two but the rest of the section would concentrate its fire and put her down. If she knew it she didn't show any fear, just what looked to Garibaldi like regret. "Conner," he spoke. "Keep an eye out front, if something happens, if you see anything even a little suspicious, tell me."

"You got it Freddy." He took one more look around and then dashed out.

Jenny began to tell her story, most of it seemed directed at Paul but her voice was clear enough for all the assembled company to hear.

"My name is Jennifer Sakai, calling myself Shoku was a lie. Most of the rest I told you when I joined the crew is true, I'm twenty seven, I was brought up on Mars among a private shipping and freighter owning family and spent most of my childhood on tramp freighters, just like I said."

"I've heard of the Sakai family." Jors said. "They're legit. Surveyors and freight Captains just like us."

"But not you." Toby accused.

"No, not me." Jenny agreed. "I didn't want to eek out a living on the space lanes getting tracked by raiders, so I joined Earthforce and ended up in the army."

"You trained as a Gropo?" Bugs frowned. "But you're so…small."

"Its an illusion, I'm strong enough to handle myself." The three dead Dilgar were in silent agreement with that fact. "I never made it to the infantry, in the officer training academy one of the tutors spotted my ability to memorise most anything, I could pick out the tiniest detail and keep it in my mind, they thought it was a useful skill so they sent me for advanced training with the Razvedchiks."

"Crap, that's a serious outfit." Garibaldi said respectfully.

"She's a what?" Toby frowned.

"Recon troops." Tucker clarified. "Best in the business, they go in behind enemy lines and just merge into the background relaying back target info, troop movements, anything. Then they just fade away and show up again back at base, you wouldn't even know they were there."

"I heard a squad of these guys sat for a month in a tiny cluster of rocks observing a resistance base in the Mars rebellion." Bugs added. "Just staying in one tiny area about twenty feet square watching the rebels come and go, counting their numbers and then calling in precision strikes. Real dedicated bunch."

"So why aren't you sitting in a tree checking stuff out?" Toby asked.

"She had a better hiding place." Paul finally spoke, his voice flat and emotionless. "Among us."

Jenny cast her eyes down. "You're right. I was with the Ravs for a few months before I got seconded to Earth Intelligence, apparently my talents of observation and memory were good enough to have them put me through spy school and turn me into a full EIA agent. This was my first assignment."

"Half spy, half special forces operative." Garibaldi nodded. "Quite a combination of skills, you're either one or the other, being both is extremely rare."

"It is." She said. "We only get sent on the most important missions."

"So what was your mission?" Toby mocked. "To get lost and stuck on alien worlds? To get your friends killed?"

"It was the Dilgar." Paul stated. "That's why you are here isn't it?"

Slowly she nodded. "When Alaca fell, even though no official action was taken Earth Intelligence took notice. They set up plans to infiltrate the Dilgar but they all failed. Usually we try to either blackmail a member of an alien government or major corporation or we just bribe them, but that didn't take with the Dilgar. They were fanatics, even when we had genuine dirt on them they wouldn't play. So we needed a new plan, we needed to observe them from neutral space."

"So you used us to get you there." Jors shook his head. "This is why I hate the government."

"Why didn't you use your own spy ships?" Garibaldi asked.

"The Dilgar would have figured it out, they'd have spotted the higher than normal sensor scans and just destroyed them without worrying about the consequences. Its what they did to the cruiser you came here on."

"So you used a regular freighter." Jors said.

"That's right, it meant I couldn't get precise scans but I could talk to other captains and crew in trade hubs and hear their stories. That was all I was meant to do, we had no idea the Dilgar would attack and we'd all be caught in the middle of a war."

"But that's what happened isn't it?" Paul accused. "You must have known there could have been trouble."

"Its why Intelligence picked the _Space Race_." She admitted. "They knew you had a vacancy when your uncle retired, and they knew your ship was fast enough to get away if we were attacked. No one else could have survived the fall of Utriel. Paul, the information I have can give Earth what it needs to prepare to fight the Dilgar!"

"And what's the lives of a few ship crew members compared to that?" Paul spat.

"This wasn't supposed to happen!" she pleaded. "I didn't want this! But being in the middle of an attack showed my all about Dilgar tactics and how ruthless they are, plus now we know they have stealth suits. I'm sorry for what happened, T'Koth was my friend too but I have a duty to Earth and I intend to carry it out."

"And that's why we are here." Paul said slowly, every word laden with anger and resentment. "The Abbai job, you were the one who found it and suggested we take it. Every time we were ready to come home one more job miraculously showed up which kept us out here longer and longer. It's your fault we were out here when the Dilgar attacked, all of this, everything, its all down to you. Now you've got T'Koths blood on your hands."

"This wasn't…"

"Just shut up!" Paul snapped. "T'Koth is dead! He's gone and if it hadn't been for you we'd all be sat on Mars drinking to our good fortune not to be anywhere near this nightmare!"

"I think we just calm down a little, okay." Garibaldi stepped in. "Its happened now, save the blame and vendetta's for when we get out of here."

"He's right." Jenny said. "We need to stick together, we can still get out of here."

"So far your advice has led us from one disaster to another, why should we trust you know?" Toby scoffed. "Forget the lies, you just aren't very good at keeping us safe."

"I got us this far, and the ship is still up there." She said. "Plus I found these guys." She indicated to the soldiers.

"Yeah, you suggested we head out of our way which brought us to this platoon. How did you know there were Earth troops this far out?" Jors wondered.

She showed them her watch. "This things got a little receiver in which picks up on Earth force transmissions. I can't hear them but it gives me a direction. I picked up a transmission when we landed so I just took us along and found the source. The platoon." She looked at Garibaldi. "I figured we were better off coming together."

"So you can use them too?" Paul said. "Get some bodyguards to see you off world?"

"No, that isn't the reason! I just want all of us to get off here alive!"

"All of us except for T'Koth." Paul said harshly. "And the Sergeant, and the two others missing or dead because they had to escort us in and open their perimeter. You've killed enough people trying to play us. I say we waste her."

"Whoa now, just wait a minute." Garibaldi said hastily. "We're not wasting anyone. She's been lying to us, I don't like it but we could still use her."

"How?" Jors spoke.

"You saw how she took down those guys." Garibaldi stated. "We're still in enemy territory and we need every weapon and advantage we can find, and she's the best fighter we've got."

"You can't trust her." Paul spoke icily. "Who's to say she won't lead you to your deaths just to cause a distraction?"

"Because if she did she realises my boys and girls would shoot her down in two seconds flat. We don't have to like her, but she's too valuable to our mission." Garibaldi lowered his rifle. "We all want to get out of here, so lets do it."

The rest of the troops also safetied their weapons following Garibaldi's lead. Jenny might not be wholly liked or trusted but they were still on the same side.

"Thanks Garibaldi." She said.

"Don't thank me." He said plainly "If any of my guys get killed because of you I'll tie you to a tree and leave you for the Dilgar." With a cold smile he turned his back and headed away. "Alright people, funs over, get some sleep."

Jenny stood back up, Toby turned away and settled down to sleep making sure he deliberately ignored her. Jors turned away and began chatting to the soldier patching up his arm. It just left Paul sat on a rock staring at T'Koth.

"We'll just have to leave him here." He said not looking at her. "He should have gone back to his family on Narn for burial."

"I'm sorry Paul, I swear this wasn't supposed to happen." She repeated, it was vital for her that he understood and accepted that she was as scared and full of regret as any of them. "We've spent a year working together, look at what we've been through, doesn't that mean anything?"

"I thought it did, I trusted you Jenny and look where it got us. It's all built on a lie which means all that you've done is worthless."

"I lied about who I was, but what we've been through wasn't a lie." She said with genuine feeling. "That was the real me, and I just want to try and get us all home."

Paul turned and looked straight at her. "Listen carefully." He said in little more than a whisper. "I hold you personally responsible for all of this, for T'Koths death, for my ship getting shot up, to all of us ending up in a situation we aren't likely to escape from. Is that clear?"

She nodded.

"If you speak to me again, or tell me one more time you are sorry then I will kill you. You might by a spy, but all the kung fu in the galaxy won't let you dodge a bullet. Remember that, now get the hell away from me."

Jenny stepped back, she didn't have a choice. She could have killed him but that was just unthinkable, over the past year she truly had come to consider herself one of the crew, they lived and worked together, laughed and celebrated together, it was a family. Jenny was now out of that family, cast away because she wanted to serve Earth and make sure her people were ready to face the Dilgar. She had done the right thing, why didn't her friends see it? Deep down of course she knew why, but she couldn't let go that easily. She would win back their trust and friendship, and at the same time get them all of this planet. She walked away and joined the soldiers, the nearest ones gave her a wary look but took no action. It made her feel even more alone, they were scared of her and what she might sacrifice to achieve her mission. She wasn't like that but they wouldn't believe her, so with overwhelming sadness she settled down for a dreamless sleep.

Capital city.

Jha'dur didn't even bother cleaning up after her latest round of experiments, deciding that the bloodstained medical overalls she wore might prove helpful in intimidating the human prisoner. So far he'd been annoyingly stubborn and had shared nothing worth knowing, not even insights into his personal life that might aid in breaking him. However she had plenty of time before she had to begin the offensive against the League once more, and as the old expression went 'There is more than one way to skin a cat,' which she knew from first hand experience to be correct.

"Feeling better?" she said breezily as she walked into the cold room where the interrogation was taking place.

"Just dandy here." Ross replied loudly. He was feigning energy but Jha'dur could see he had weakened significantly over the night, at least in body. "Gonna recommend this to all my friends."

"Good, I'm sure they'll be here any hour now." She smiled. In truth they had heard nothing from either the conventional searches of from the elite Spectre units tracking the woods and impasses of the world. A force big enough to take on forty Stormtroopers should have been extremely easy to find, they had recovered two bodies which were waiting for her attentions in the hospital cool room but nothing more, and to suffer just two casualties in the battle was highly unlikely. There had to be more of them, it was the only logical answer.

"Yeah, I bet you'll find them anytime soon." Ross grinned. "Oh yeah, all is lost."

"So the pain didn't break your spirit?" Jha'dur raised an eyebrow. "Very interesting."

"Guess you just ain't doing it right." Ross offered. "You know this is pretty disappointing, the Brakiri are supposed to be scared crapless of you but I'm thinking your all talk and no torture."

"That's because I'm taking my time, you are a special case." She smiled. "When my time does finally come, then you will know what real torture is."

He sighed. "Points for effort, but your intimidation technique needs work."

She stepped back with a smile. "Who needs intimidation when you have a big sharp knife? Be seeing ya." She ended with a human phrase, then headed out of the room slightly troubled. There was a very strong chance these humans could be more trouble than she had first predicted. The other Warmasters were dismissive of them as a race, intelligence reports suggested they would do anything to avoid war and were to primitive to waste time over. That same intelligence however also said the Abbai would fold under a dedicated attack, something which they assuredly had not and Jha'dur had seen with her own eyes what a single Human ship had done to a force which outnumbered and outgunned it.

"Warmaster." A brusque voice called her, she turned her head to see her personal guard Tar'val.

"Captain, any news on the hunt?"

"Nothing Warmaster." He fell into step beside her as they exited the hospital and crossed the small courtyard to the university. "Our search teams haven't seen anything."

"We have gunships and fighters looking from the air, troops on the ground and satellites in orbit." She said tiredly. "I refuse to believe they just vanished."

"We've searched the same ground three times, we stop or destroy every vehicle. They just aren't there Warmaster."

"Has any vessel left orbit?" she snapped impatiently.

"No Warmaster."

"Then they are still here." She said directly. "Find them, or I will take out my frustration on you!"

He saluted and quickly scurried her way. She smiled a little to know her reputation still carried weight despite the human's defiance. She barged through the university doors and headed for the wing where her scientists were trying to access the human technology, another one of life's little frustrations for her to manage. Either her scientists were truly stupid or the Human technology was better than intelligence would have them all believe. The thought made her even more angry, a lack of information was a sure way to lose an army.

She found professor Dra'yash studying the same data he had picked out days ago when he had first arrived. She took it as a bad sign of progress that he was still on page one of his studies. He quickly stood up when he noticed her and bowed.

"So far this day has been disappointing." Jha'dur stated flatly. "I didn't even enjoy my research into Tirrithan diseases so I sincerely hope you have something to improve my mood."

Dra'yash seemed to be staring at her chest, which at first made her want to expand her research to include him, until she recognized fear in his expression. She remembered she was still in her medical garb drenched with blood and smiled in wry amusement. "Professor?" she prompted.

He tore his eyes away from the grizzly scene. "Yes, err, we've made a few discoveries." He stuttered "For example the control system for the soldiers equipment is coded to the wearers DNA, only the owner can work it."

"What if I were to cut off his head and place it in the helmet? Would that work?"

"Well," he paled as he considered the image. "Yes, it might. We need to do more research."

"Very well, I still need the prisoner to talk yet but when I am done you may have all the samples you need." She promised. "What else?"

He looked to the left and then right trying to catch they eye of the rest of his team, not one of them looked up but Jha'dur could sense they were all paying special attention to events. Seeing he would get no support he took responsibility. "There is nothing else Warmaster."

She had known that was the answer, any discovery would have been immediately brought to her attention. Still, the look of terror on the scientists face was priceless. "Nothing else?" she sneered.

"No Warmaster." She detected a quiver in Dra'yash's voice. It was music to her.

"Then let me make this offer." She smiled coldly. "You have three days, if you have nothing by then you will lose one finger per day until you do find something useful. After fingers and toes comes hands, feet, arms, legs. You get the idea. The longer it takes the less you will weigh at the end. Do you understand me professor?"

"Yes Warmaster." He squeaked.

"Well then, I'll be seeing you soon. Do not disappoint me."

As she left the room she still felt angry, the exercise of her authority had not done anything to alleviate her mood and the gnawing presence of the humans somewhere on planet was still pressing her thoughts. It shouldn't matter, they were few in number and would be no threat to the great Dilgar Warmachine, but still she was troubled. They had proven to be good fighters and resistant to interrogation, and while it was almost heresy to admit it the _Persephone_ had out fought five Dilgar warships of her personal battlefleet. Those humans were better warriors than her Dilgar and that was the root of her concern. She had fought easy opponents, brave but foolish like the Drazi or reticent like the Abbai and in both cases the Dilgar victories had been mixed. The war would soon grow, and with each new battle they would be getting closer to the rim and human space. She had to know more about them, she needed the data in the warships recorders.

She stopped in the courtyard outside the university and took deep calming breaths, letting her mind and body relax. The Humans were going no where, in time they would be found and she would learn their secrets before taking the war to the Brakiri. She gazed up at the nearby mountain which overlooked the city, its dark grey surface capped with bright snow even at the height of the Tirrithan summer. She considered how long that great rock and been there looking down on this world and how long it would stand afterwards. Life was so fleeting and inconsequential compared to the endurance of that one mountain. Her people would be that mountain, they would not live and day in a century, they would exist eternally as masters of all they surveyed ruling over the weak and powerless. It was destiny and the shared belief of all Dilgar. She was close to achieving that, both in building a great empire and in her life's true work, the immortality serum. Each being lived and died, they had that in common. She knew that there had to be something obvious that was missing, something shared by each and every race which determined how long they lived and when they died, something she could take and alter. She took one last look at the mountain. It represented the future of her people, to rise high and last forever, and she would make sure of it.

To the South.

"This won't be easy." Garibaldi looked through the binoculars, Paul Calendar using his own pair beside him. They were laid flat on the surface of the large mountain overlooking the city staring down at their target, their way home. The rest of the group were crouched in cover keeping an eye out for more Dilgar infiltrators or scouts, but since the events of the night before things had been quiet.

"T'Koth said the tunnels were part of the water overflow system." Paul commented. "Place gets a lot of rain in winter being so close to mountains, it all runs through tunnels to the river." He turned to focus on a narrow beautifully clear stream running past the city. In winter it would have been a torrent of run off from the highlands. "The shouldn't know about it."

"The Dilgar are smart." Garibaldi said as he continued surveying the city. "They'll have every way in or out covered."

"Only if they know about it." Paul said. "If they haven't figured it out yet we have a chance."

Garibaldi wasn't convinced, he had seen drilled formations of soldiers parading in the city along with armoured vehicles and a type of hover jet gunship similar to those used by Earth Force. The place was a stronghold and these Dilgar were real soldiers, not blood thirsty militia like the League had believed. Getting past them would be impossible if they had even one guard in the tunnels. But as he scanned the area he found what he was looking for, in a park behind a cluster of buildings in the city centre was a makeshift airfield with half a dozen shuttles and small transports.

"We'll head for those ships behind the hospital." He announced. "We go tonight, try and slip through unnoticed and just run for it before they react."

"We should try and disable the other shuttles." Paul suggested.

"Can't. We're fresh out of C-15 explosives and heavy weapons. We just got rifles." Garibaldi patted the PPG, Paul and Jors had taken similar weapons from the two casualties the Platoon had so far suffered. "We'll just have to be quick and hope for the best."

"Uh oh." Paul was focusing on something. "Look in the courtyard by the hospital, just in front of the airfield."

"What is it?" Garibaldi moved his binoculars. "What's down there?"

"That woman, can you make her out?"

"Barely." He could see a figure removing a red garment. No, when he looked closer it was a white garment stained red. He felt a moments revulsion, then guessed it was obvious that someone at a hospital would have blood on her. "I see her, the doctor."

"She's no doctor." Paul spoke. "How many doctors wear a uniform like that?"

Garibaldi looked again, sure enough under the medical coat she was wearing a dark uniform jacket with a decadent amount of gold trim and accoutrements. "A senior officer?"

"Warmaster." Paul stated. "A female Warmaster, there's only one likely name that fits."

"No way!" Garibaldi strained his eyes to try and see more detail. "That Jha'dur chick?"

"It's got to be, she was in charge of one of their fleets nearby." Paul said. "The Abbai were terrified of her."

"Was she operating on someone, she had medical gear on?"

"How much did your superiors tell you about what's happening out here?" Paul lowered his binoculars and looked at the soldier.

"Almost nothing." Garibaldi turned to face him. "Few names, couple of rumours. Our intel boys didn't have a whole lot, which I guess explains why were stuck here instead of still being on patrol."

"Jha'dur is head of bioweapons and research as well as commanding a fleet. Very multitalented but not in a good way." Paul explained. "We saw her ships take out a colony and we hear she did the same to the Drazi. If she's here it means there are probably a lot of unpleasant weapons down there."

"Great." Garibaldi sighed. "We get so close and end up with the bad guys best General sat right on our escape route."

"We'll I mean we should be careful, but she's just one person."

"She won't be alone, she'll have escorts, a top class contingent of body guards and probably a guard fleet in orbit." Garibaldi said with growing anger. "Dammit! I hate this crap! I got a deadline to beat!"

"What deadline?" Paul frowned.

"Its nothing, its just…" Garibaldi sighed. "Its just I told my kid I'd be back for Christmas."

Paul smiled and patted the soldier on the back. "Then that's what we'll do, okay?"

"We can try." He took one more look through the binoculars, then turned to Tucker a bit further down the slope. "Get the team together, we move when its dark for the stream to find a way in."

"On it." He said, the scrambled down to the platoon.

"How's your pilot?" Garibaldi wondered. "His arm better?"

"Getting there." Paul said. "We were worried the Dilgar had poisoned knives, but it doesn't look like it. He'll fly us out of here, and if he can't I will."

"Alright." The soldier nodded. "And so, what about the other member of your team?"

Paul's expression suddenly became a lot more dour. "She isn't in my team."

"She's spec ops," Garibaldi said quietly. "She is a major asset and makes the chances of us getting out of here a lot better."

"We are here because of her, all this is her fault."

"And getting out of this may be up to her too."

"Doesn't make it better." Paul stated flatly.

"Maybe, but it'll make me a whole lot happier." Garibaldi replied. "I'm sending her up ahead, out of all of us she'll be the least likely to be spotted."

"And maybe the first to die." Paul grunted. "Actually I don't have a problem with that."

Garibaldi was a little surprised to hear that. "You served together for a year, you had to get out of a crisis with each others help."

"No, she lied to us for a year and put us in harms way which got my friend killed!" Paul snapped. "So don't try to make me like her or forgive her!"

"And if she gets you off this rock alive? Then what?"

Paul thought for a moment. "Then, maybe we'll be even."

"She likes you guys you know." Garibaldi said. "Whatever she did she thinks of you lot as family."

"Thanks doctor Sigmund." Paul scoffed. "Do I owe you anything for this session?"

"Just saying, whatever she did a year ago to set these events in motion, whatever she did back then she's changed. She isn't the same person and I think she's taking T'Koth's death as hard as you are. Difference is she doesn't have anyone to talk to about it."

"Not my problem."

"You're her Captain."

"Not any more."

"You're her friend."

"Definitely not anymore."

They remained there in silence for a while looking down on the city. It was a large but relatively flat location with few really tall buildings and a pale look to most of the places in it. It had numerous parks and plazas but all were deserted, only Dilgar soldiers patrolled the streets.

"She didn't…"

"Enough." Paul cut him off. "I'm sick of talking about this crap, you think you can use her? Great, she's on your team. Have fun and make sure she doesn't put a knife in your back too."

"She saved your life." Garibaldi reminded him. "Those infiltrators would have wasted all of you if not for her."

"Like I said, conversation over. Lets just get going."

Paul moved away and Garibaldi followed on. From his point of view the man was a mess, but he had a right to be. The bad news was he was letting his anger and hurt over rule his sense of self preservation, they needed Jenny and he refused to acknowledge that. Garibaldi figured Paul had liked the young woman, maybe more than just liked her, and the betrayal had really wounded him. That sort of thing didn't heal overnight.

"Jenny." Garibaldi walked over to her, she was alone outside the main group. "You eaten?"

"Not for a while, but I'm not hungry." She said flatly as she sat huddled by a scrawny tree.

"You should." Garibaldi fished an MRE from a pouch by his side and knelt beside her. "Take this, it ain't exactly dinner at the Mars Savoy but it'll keep your strength up."

She took the offered pack and began to open it. "So you were checking out the city?"

"Yeah, about a brigade of troops in there, also company strength armoured unit."

"I haven't seen any Hammers in your unit." The Hammer was the name given to Earth's standard anti-armour missile.

"We lost them in the drop with the rest of our support gear." Garibaldi shrugged. "Hopefully we'll be gone before they arrive, there are plenty of shuttles."

"Any fighters?"

"None nearby." He answered. "But there was one surprise, a female Warmaster based in the city."

Jenny's eyes shot up. "A Warmaster?"

"We think its Jha'dur. You know the name?"

Jenny nodded. "Big deal for the Dilgar, they spent the last month making her into a war hero. She's a serious threat."

"Well she's sat almost on top of our predicted exit point, I figure she'll be well protected."

"I'd guess so." Jenny said. "Losing her would put a major dent in the Dilgar war effort." She looked at her meal considering her words.

"No." Garibaldi said.

"No what?"

"No, we aren't going to go and kill her. We're just getting away."

Jenny looked at him in surprise. "I didn't say anything!"

"But you were thinking it." He nodded. "Don't deny it."

She sighed. "You didn't see what she did at Utriel. This woman is a monster, the worst of her kind."

"Maybe, but taking her out will bring down more firepower than we can handle." Garibaldi advised. "Our job is to bail and not look back, let the League send an assassin."

"Alright, when you guys make your escape leave me here, I'll take her out alone when you are safe."

"Not going to happen, first we aren't leaving anyone behind, second I'm betting the EIA want you back alive to hear your story, and thirdly if a human wastes their favourite celebrity the Dilgar might just get real pissed with us and invade Earth."

"They destroyed one of our ships." Jenny said. "They might already be at war with us."

"We have a job to do, we need to get home and we will. That is all." Gaibaldi handed her drink. "Don't go all rogue agent on me."

She took the canteen and noticed the ring on Garibaldi's hand. "You're married." It was more statement than question.

"Wife and kid." He said proudly. "back on Mars, they're probably worried sick by now."

"My sister just had a kid." Jenny said solemnly. "Pretty little girl. They're so helpless you just can't help but feel protective of them can you?"

"I remember." He nodded. "That's why I have to get back, I won't have my boy grow up without me there to watch out for him."

Jenny nodded. "Its strong motivation isn't it? You imagine your wife will be waiting for you?"

"She better be!" Garibaldi chuckled. "I've only been overdue a week! If she's shacked up with the garrison cook already I won't be happy!"

Jenny shared his smile. "You know what I mean!"

"Yeah I know, and you're right, that thought has kept me going through all this. It isn't just me, a lot of the guys and girls have folks waiting for them back home, and it's my job now to get them back."

"It's a lot of responsibility."

"I just think what'd happen if I didn't get back. How would my folks feel? It'll be the same for any of these people's families if they don't get back and will not put anyone through that, that includes your folks." He looked at her trying to gauge her reaction. "What's your niece's name?"

"Catherine." Jenny answered.

"Well I want you to remember that kid tonight when we go in there, and I want you to consider her future before you do anything which I'd call stupid. You following me?"

"I guess so."

"Don't guess." He said firmly. "Decide, right now if you want to see Catherine grow up, because if you don't follow my orders you will get yourself and others killed, and there will be a lot of sad people back home. I take my job very seriously, and I will be seeing my family at Christmas."

Jenny agreed. "Then I'd like to help you get back to them."

"Good, I'm glad we're on the same side." Garibaldi smiled. "And I realise you're in a tough position, we all are."

"He thinks I betrayed him." She passed a look over her shoulder to her former crew members. "But I didn't, I was just trying to keep our people safe. You understand that right?"

"I understand, we're in the same business, but I wouldn't hold out for any forgiveness." He sighed. "Sorry, sometimes it just goes that way."

"Yeah." She said quietly. "Thanks Garibaldi."

"Call me Freddy, everyone else does." He grinned. "Get some rest, we move out tonight and by this time tomorrow we'll be out of here."

"You seem confident, even with the best Warmaster sat right on our target?"

"Let me tell you something." Garibaldi lowered his voice. "Warmasters, armies, battle tanks, Dreadnoughts, the whole legions of hell itself, none of those things, not one of them, is going to stop me getting back to my wife and kid. Now I made a promise to come home, and if I have to kill every single Dilgar on this planet with my bare hands so be it, because nothing is going to prevent me getting home for Christmas."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 23

Tirrith Star sytem

December 2230

They moved fast under the cover of darkness, each trooper confident in his or her low level sensor scans letting them see the terrain in crystal clarity through their battlefield helmet scanners. They were skirting the shingle bamks of the stream up towards the city and keeping a very lowprofile, so far they had no indication of Dilgar patrols or trip wires around this area and it appeared they were keeping their forces close to the city.

Garibaldi was at the front with Bugs keeping close by, the rest of the unit was spread out in a thin detachment just in case one of them found a trap or trip wire the hard way, it wouldn't help the unfortunate victim but it kept the rest of the Platoon from being injured in the same blast. Up ahead he saw a faint tube in the distance leading out to the stream and he immediately stopped and dropped down to a crouch. On the helmet systems of each soldier Garibaldi's sudden pause was reported and they copied him without a word, the interlinked data streams making sure every member of the team had the same information to work from, except for the crew of the _Space Race._ They were being guided on by Privates Harlow and Turnbow who had hold of them and nudged them down to a crouch when Garibaldi stopped a hundred yards ahead. Between Bugs and Garibaldi was Jenny, lacking night vision gear but apparently quite good at finding her way around in the dark.

"Pipe's up ahead." Garibaldi whispered. "You see it?"

"Got it." Answered Jenny. "Okay, wait here while I check it out." As a trained spy she was the logical choice for point, she could sneak her way out of trouble if the way in was blocked.

"Wait." Garibaldi unravelled his trouser leg from his boot. "You might need this." He uncovered an ankle holster with a PPG pistol attached to it. The small weapons were still relatively new in Earth force service and many officers still preferred slug throwers for side arms. "I guess you know how to handle one of these?"

She took the weapon and slipped it into her belt. "No problem, thanks."

"You want to borrow my helmet? I'll set it up to work for you."

"Too bulky, I'll be okay." She moved forward with cat like speed and agility, gave a little wave and disappeared into the tube. By Garibaldi's guess it was about five feet high which shouldn't slow them down much but wouldn't be greatly comfortable.

"Paul won't like you giving her a weapon." Bugs said in a tiny whisper.

"Well he's welcome to try and take it off her again." He smiled thinly. "I need her armed, I ain't getting stuck here."

"I hear you." Bugs nodded. "She is on our side right?"

Garibaldi didn't answer, and for the next ten minutes the unit stayed in perfect silence crouched by the banks of the stream waiting. The gently gurgling water was the only sound they heard in the long wait, even the troops in the city seemed quiet not far beyond them. An Earth garrison off duty would probably have founf one way or another to make noise, either in a bar or improvised game, but these Dilgar were eery in their silence. Perhaps having a Warmaster nearby kept them all firmly in line.

He spotted movement and trained his rifle, relaxing when he saw it was Jenny returning from the pipe.

"All clear." She whispered. "Looks like a clean run to the city, then we can use subway tunnels to reach the airfield."

"Alright then." Garibaldi stood and began moving, again his actions were reported through his Battlefield management system and his troops followed without a word of order being given up to the edge of the pipe. "Lead on." He told Jenny. "We'll be right behind you."

She hopped into the pipe again with Garibaldi clambering in behind. He was scraping well over six feet in height and it wasn't a pleasant journey but he endured it and after a brief scuttle came to a large junction in the pipes.

"That's the way." Jenny pointed down a lager pipe. "It heads for the city centre."

"Good, what are we waiting for?"

"I have to tell you something. Quietly."

He looked back as his platoon filed out of the pipe and began gathering and looking at him wondering what the delay was.

"Tucker, Bugs, take point." He pointed to the point. "Head on until you reach the next junction then standby."

They nodded and moved off, the unit now following them. Garibaldi counted the troops past and saw they were all still together and gave Paul a slap on the back as they went past. "Holding together?"

"So far." He answered, giving Jenny a hard look. "Whats wrong?"

"Nothing, just keep going on, I'll bring up the rear make sure we weren't followed."

They moved on and left Garibaldi and Jenny alone. "So is something wrong?"

"It might be. Remember I found your unit because you broadcast an Earth Force signal to gather your people together?"

"I remember."

"Well when I was checking out the tunnels I got another reading very similar."

"How come, we were in comms silence?"

"It wasn't from you guys, it was from in the city."

Garibaldi had to pause to consider what that meant. "Another Earth force transmission but in the city?" his eyes widened "Ross?"

"No, it wasn't an army frequency, it was navy." She explained. "A disaster beacon, the sort that transmits the location of a wrecked ship."

"Wait, we would have picked it up before."

"It was only on for a few seconds, then got turned off again. Somebody must by playing around with it." Jenny stated. "Freddy, its got to be the data recorder from your ship, the Dilgar have brought it here to study."

"Could be." He nodded. "Is it something we can use to get home? Send a distress signal?"

"Probably not, the Dilgar could jam it if we tried."

"If it doesn't help us get home then it isn't our business." He stated flatly. "We keep focused and get out of here."

"You don't understand, the data in that recorder would be vital to Earth Force, it'll have full readings from the _Persephone_ and a blow by blow account of its battle with the Dilgar," she enthused. "It'll tell us first hand how tough their ships are and how effective Earth force weapons and tactics can be in a war."

"I can see its useful, but I can't risk my peoples lives for that, I'm sorry but if you saw the battle from orbit you can give them the basics."

"It won't be the same." She said in frustration. "And there's more, what about the navigational data? The weapons statistics? The location of our main fleets and population centres, information crucial to our home security?"

Garibaldi grimaced, that sort of information really shouldn't be in enemy hands but that wasn't his job. "Its vital stuff, but we're just survivors behind enemy lines, if Earth needs that stuff they should send in the Special assault Service, or more of your buddies."

"There might not be time." She pressed. "They are still playing with the beacon, my guess is they haven't cracked it yet because when they do it'll be taken straight to Omelos. That's why the Warmaster is here, to oversee the recovery and take the data immediately to her superiors, its got to be."

"Exactly, it's a Warmaster up there looking after it and her guards. If we go for the recorder we won't get anywhere near it."

"We've got surprise on our side Freddy, they're looking for us miles away! They wouldn't think we'd be reckless enough to come here, let alone attack them!"

Most of the garrison was at the edge of the city, it would take a long time for them to mobilise and move through the streets to intercept them. The only nearby troops were airfield techs and the Warmasters entourage, and probably a few of those elite Dilgar black operations troops. Even with the odds looking a bit better and with surprise they would still get slaughtered. "Not going to happen. Now come on, you can radio for back up when we get in orbit and your buddies can handle it."

"That's not how it works!"

"it isn't worth getting my people killed for!"

"Really? And what about the _Persephone_?" Jenny snapped. "What about her crew and what about the things they died for?" Garibaldi froze and did not answer. "That black box up there is the only record we have of their battle, its their epitaph and the Dilgar will simply steal and erase it. They fought for the right reasons and died upholding what they thought was the right thing to do, you can't just let the Dilgar rewrite history and portray them as fools!"

"I have to get my people home."

"And you will, but at the same time you can give Earth the intelligence it needs to fight the Dilgar if necessary, and you can make sure the _Persephone_ is remembered as a shining example of heroism. They didn't die in vain, and that recorder is the only thing which truly proves it."

He cursed himself inside, but he knew she was right. He had an oath to protect Earth and getting that data was a direct way of doing it, and doing this last service for the _Persephone_ was a honourable way to keep the ships name and deeds alive. "What do you need?"

"Five minutes or less in the same room as it." She said. "I'll take out the data crystals and set its self destruct charges. We get what we need, the Dilgar get a smoking shell."

"Alright, but it's going to be a small team." He said firmly. "I'll grab some trusted guys and help you, the rest will go and secure a shuttle."

"Fine, better with a small group anyway, we won't be noticed." Jenny nodded. "Alright then, I'm ready."

"That makes one of us at least." Garibaldi sighed. "Lets tell them the bad news."

Hospital

"Still nothing from the human." Tar'val reported. "He has the stubbornness of a Drazi!"

Jha'dur sighed and looked up from her notes on human language. "This grows tiresome. If the old ways won't work we'll try some drugs and hallucinogenics, if he wont submit willingly we'll trick him into telling us what we need to know. Then I'll make sure he regrets his insolence."

"As you wish Warmaster." He saluted and left.

She looked to the communications console on the dest formerely used by the head of medecine at the hospital. "Computer, any reports from the science team at the university?"

"None."

"Anything from Battlemaster Gri'mow and the search units?"

"None."

"What about Spectre team eight?"

"No reports found."

"Quiet night." She muttered, then suppressed a yawn. "Note in the roster I am retiring to sleep, wake me the instant any report arrives."

"Confirmed." The electronic voice said.

She lifted herself out of her chair and headed for the door, the mysteries of human technology would just have to wait until morning. She expected her fleet to return very shortly and perhaps her brother too. It was shaping up to be an eventful day.

She turned out the lights and headed for her temporary room, guards standing to attention as she passed by and closed the door behind her.

Out side the light going off high in the hospital grabbed Garibaldi's attention for a second, then was filed away as no threat to the team. He continued his quick survey of the area with every image streaming down to the information systems of his troops. They were at the edge of the plaza with the University close to them on one side and the Hospital a bit further away on the other. They'd followed on overflow drain to almost exactly the perfect place to sneak into the buildings.

"Bugs, Tucker, Marty. You follow me and Jenny. Rest of you guys follow the tunnel another five hundred yards and then find a way up, you should be on the edge of the airfield. Get a shuttle quietly and wait for us."

"We shouldn't split up Freddy." Turnbow said. "We're in this together."

"And we'll get out of this together, you know what to do, see you in ten minutes."

With a brisk nod the two groups split up leaving Garibaldi an his four companions alone while they headed away silently toward the escape route.

"This has to be quick and quiet." Jenny whispered. "Just follow my lead."

Each person clambered out of the drain and laid flat beside it, they were in a dark corner but if the Dilgar had the same night vision kit of even a basic military they would be spotted instantly. There was no movement anywhere near them but each team member was keeping themselves at full alert, every sense acutely tuned for the tiniest sight or sound which would warn them of danger.

"We go in through a ground floor window." Jenny said. "We'll search the building but it should be easy to find, its about six to nine feet long, cylindrical, got a big blue Earth force stamp on the side."

"You sure its this building?" Tucker asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Down!" Garibaldi hissed suddenly and the whole unit flattened itself to the floor. Aead of them to Dilgar soldiers walked between the Hospital and the University, the troops themselves were unremarkable but the figure with them was not.

"Is that Ross?" Bugs squinted.

"he's alive!" Tucker exclaimed quietly. "Freddy, we gotta go get him."

"I know I know, just stay low, let me think."

"They're taking him to the same building as the recorder." Jenny spoke gently. "Two birds with one stone?"

"Alright, but we stick to the plan. Get the recorder first, then we get Ross and run like hell." Garibaldi emphasised. "By then Harlow and her buddies should have the shuttle secured and Calendar can get us out."

"Then lets do it." Tucker said. "We don't leave Ross to these monsters."

"Make for that window on the corner." Jenny pointed. "I'll go first, keep me covered but no uneccessary firing." Before an answer could come she was on her way darting between cover toward the side of the building aiming for the most concealed entry point.

"You heard the lady, lets go."

Hospital

The incoming message did not wake Jha'dur. Despite having come to bed an hour earlier she had been unable to sleep and was lying down gazing at the ceiling. She was tired but that single nagging concern continued to dog her mind and steal her tranquillity, the humans should have been found by now so where were they?

"Accept transmission, audio only." She said.

"Jha'dur? Are you there?" a familiar voice asked.

"Brother!" she laughed. "Good to hear from you!"

"We're almost at Tirrith, thought I'd call in ahead to warn you, let you deploy the honour guard, that sort of thing."

She smiled, her brother sounded particularly happy today. "Glad to be here?"

"Glad to be away from the Abbai." He said enthusiastically. "They're more boring to guard than they are to speak to. Ridiculous people."

So that was the reason. She could appreciate his relief at finding a more interesting assignment but she would need to watch him. An enthusiasm to fight just because he was bored was not a useful trait in a Warmaster, especially with the current high stakes. "Bring your fleet into orbit, your timing is excellent, my own forces should be back from Malax in an hour or so, you will integrate into my formations and act as my second in command."

"Very well sister." Sha'dur said, his voice flat on the transmission.

"You still have to learn a few things before I let you fight alone, the Brakiri are a more dangerous enemy than the Abbai and you must be prepared."

"Yes Sister, if that's what you want." He sighed. "But I'm still glad to be here." He added with more cheer.

"And it will be good to see you, bring a shuttle down when you arrive."

"See you soon." He said, then signed off.

That had cheered Jha'dur up a little, but it still did not dislodge the problem of finding the missing humans. Their surveillance was concise, nothing could have gotten past the countless patrols and flyby's she'd ordered. The wreck of the Earth shuttle had been combed with the best scanners they had, bodies recovered and what little technology not melted or smashed was in the university building opposite awaiting analysis. But it was the living humans she yearned for, to examine them in detail and investigate their strengths and weaknesses. Her peers were unimpressed by humanity, intelligence said they were not willing to fight and had expanded beyond their means to protect their territory, but those experts had not fought them or had a small group elude efforts to track them.

She stared at the ceiling for a few more moments in deep thought until an idea came to her. What if the humans weren't running away from the Dilgar but instead hiding where they would never look? Right under their noses. What if they hadn't run south where the forces were searching but instead turned north and passed by this city into the mountains? It was risky and almost foolish, but if she had discovered anything about this new race it was that they would have no hesitation running a very dangerous path. She closed her eyes and smiled, it all made perfect sense now. She had underestimated their cunning and nerve, something the battle with the human cruiser should have taught her not to do. She would redeploy the search teams north and then see how long it took to find these missing survivors. She could almost admire these people, and that only made her more eager to bring her experiments to them. She rolled out of bed and started getting dressed, all thoughts of sleep now banished in her excitement. Those humans would soon be forced out into the open.

University.

Getting through the window was easy enough, it slid open with a quick twist of Jenny's knife and set off no obvious alarms. Clearly the Tirrithans didn't expect anyone to break into something as mundane as a university. She dropped into the dark corridor without a sound and carefully checked out the immediate area, finding it completely deserted. She waved out of the window and gestured for the soldiers following to come on in.

"This floor looks deserted." Jenny said. "No lights on except in the main entrance."

"So what do we do?" Garibaldi joined her while the other three men climbed through the opening with far less grace than Jenny but thankfully still quiet enough to not raise any alarm.

"This sign says the main science and technology labs are on the first floor, that's where we should go."

"You can read that?" Garibaldi frowned at the alien writing on the wall.

"I'm a secret agent." She shrugged. "All that stuff you see on the Vids, most of its true. Come on."

"Wait a minute." Garibaldi fished a small metal device from one of his pockets, not much larger than a coin it was dull enough to be unnoticed in the dim light. "Scanner, you ever seen an MRI? Same basic idea only instead of looking inside bodies this one scans buildings and feeds the data to our battle sensors. It'll give us a map and a good idea where the Dilgar are unless they discover it or jam it."

"Glad you brought one along." Jenny smiled, then moved down the corridor and found a doorway at the end leading up an unlight flight of stairs presumably used as an emergency exit. Slowly they made their way up using night vision not to disturb anything which could create noise and came to a doorway linking to the first floor, light filtered under the door warning them that there was activity beyond.

"Remember, don't shoot unless you have to." Jenny whispered. "If they have sensors set to pick up weapons fire we're all dead. Just hit anyone you see."

"Sounds like a plan." Garibaldi grinned, while he tried to keep himself professional he would relish taking a bit of payback on the people who brought down his friends on the _Persephone_.

Very slowly Jenny pushed the door open and listened careful at the gap. There were definitely voices up here but in the distance muffled by walls and doors. She heard no footsteps or rustling clothes so risked a quick glance around the edge of the portal. The way ahead was clear, a plain looking corridor with doors on either side leading down two hundred yards from one end of the building to another. There were no windows which was good, but the lights were a problem. Normally she would have found a way to kill the lights and use the darkness to her advantage, but doing so here could cause panic and raise an alarm which they really didn't need right now, so reluctantly she lead the party into the building under the lights.

As she move don the voices became clearer though still muffled. She recognized one or two Dilgar words but Earth intelligence had yet to secure accurate language files for their agents to study so the conversation was unknowable to her. Very carefully she inched to a large double door and halted, Garibaldi and team matching her. The voices were from inside, to her trained ears it sounded like four separate speakers but their could be more. She held up four fingers for the soldiers benefit, then pointed to the door. Jenny was confident this was their primary target and if they were as good as she hoped they were the team could be half way to orbit before the Dilgar even had a clue something was wrong. Garibaldi and Tucker took one side, Marty and Bugs the other with weapons primed. She stood in the centre of the doorway, got a nod of readiness from Garibaldi and a second from Bugs, then with a deep breath kicked the door open.

Within a second she had read the situation and was confident of success. There were indeed four male Dilgar in the room, two of whom seemed middle aged. None of them appeared to be soldiers, at least not combat troops, and were taken utterly by surprise by the sudden crash of the lock splintering and heavily armed men charging into their lab, the Earth troops quickly sweeping the room and clearing the doorway. One of the younger Dilgar gave into the flight mechanism and tried to run only to find the stock of Garibaldi's rifle waiting to slow him down. The weapon thudded into his stomach and doubled over the Dilgar technician who was then pushed back towards his comrades.

"Nobody move." Garibaldi said calmly with a very hard edge in his voice. They might not understand English but the four rifles levelled at them didn't need a translation. They froze solid and stared in shock and horror at the blank visors covering their sudden attackers.

"Do you speak Brakiri?" Jenny stepped forward and asked in that language. They looked at her but without acknowledgement. "Speak Abbai?"

"I do." The eldest looking man spoke. "What do you want?"

"Just passing through." Jenny answered. "If you keep quiet you won't be harmed." She switched back to English. "Garibaldi, you wanna tie these guys up?"

he nooded to Bugs and Marty who found some wire after a brief search and bound the Dilgar technicians hands and feet, as they did so Jenny continued talking in Abbai.

"Where is the data recorder from my cruiser?"

"I don't know what you mean." The elder scientist said, unfortunately he was a bad liar.

"Don't play with me." Jenny said coldly. "We know its here, where?"

The scientists eyes darted to the left for just an instant before focusing back on her, it was all she needed. In his moment of stress and fear his reflexes had given the game away, Jenny almost felt sorry for him but not quite. She looked the way he had glanced and noted a side door leading to another lab.

"Freddy, that door." She pointed. "Lets move."

They finished tying and then gagging the scientists, then dashed quietly to the door taking places on either side again. Once more Jenny kicked in the door itself and the soldiers charged through without a word. This time they didn't have complete surprise, the sound of them breaking through the first door had been heard here and while nobody had bothered to investigate they had been more aware. Three young Dilgar met them, e of them armed with a heavy device similar to a crow bar. The closest man to the door was unarmed and had virtually no time to react, Bugs and Marty barrelled into him tackling him to the floor and punching him unconscious. The crow bar armed man had been smart enough to get some distance from the door and now attacked, swinging the weapon in a wide arc at Garibaldi. He ducked, letting the bar swipe over his head and lashed out with his rifle. The PPG was a small weapon and on first glance looked deceptively fragile, however it was forged from incredibly tough alloys to withstand the cool Plasma rounds it fired and made a very effective blunt force weapon, as the Dilgar technician rapidly discovered.

The last man thought better of it and turned to run, Tucker raising his rifle to put a round of plasma in his back.

"No." Jenny said firmly. "No firing!" she brought out a knife and in one flash of movement threw it at the retreating enemy lodging the blade in the back of his neck. The body fell silently before it reached either the exit or an alarm.

"Clear." Bugs said as he stood from the unconscious Dilgar.

"Same here." Garibaldi picked up the crowbar, tested its weight and then discarded it. He looked around the room and noticed the far side was dominated by a huge cylinder, a host of computers wired up to it. "The Data recorder?"

"That's it." Jenny nodded.

"Hey Freddy?" a voice asked. "No way! Freddy!"

Behind the recorder a head leaned forward, it was bruised and injured but clearly human.

"Ross," Garibaldi ran over. "Keep it down!"

"Sorry." He whispered. "Man I am so glad to see you."

"Tucker, Bugs, watch the door. Marty go check our other captives." Garibaldi ordered. "Jenny, you need anything?"

"I'm good." She said yanking off the Dilgar wires. "This won't take long, the codes are still intact."

"You guys rescued me!" Ross beamed. "You won't need to buy another drink again ever!"

"We aren't out yet." Garibaldi hissed. "And you are picking the tab for the whole damn platoon when we hit the Afterburner bar back on Mars!"

"Where are they all?"

"Flagging down a cab." He cut through Ross' restraints and helped him up. "Way to get yourself captured!"

"They came out of nowhere!" Ross complained. "One second nothing then wham! I wake up in the back of an APC surrounded by armed guards."

"Don't act so surprised, same thing happened last time you had leave in Mars dome." Garibaldi gave him a quick check over, no bones seemed broken and he was able to walk. "Did you ever get your pants back?"

With a clang Jenny opened up the outer case of the recorder. "Easy, all it needed was an Earth force ID code entered in the right sequence." She reached into the device. "And some human DNA to scan."

"That's what they wanted me for, to try and get into it." Ross said. "And to track you guys."

"You tell 'em anything?"

"I told 'em lots." Ross smiled. "Mostly I told them to go get fu-"

"Got it." Jenny interrupted dragging out a tray of data crystals. "Still intact, perfect!" she took the dozen small records and emptied them into her pockets. "Alright lets go, and you should take that stuff." She pointed to an assortment of items on a table near the data recorder.

"Hey, my gear." Ross grinned. "Damn this turning into a lucky day." He quickly put on his helmet and body armour. "And my rifle is still charged!"

"Alright, but just keep quiet huh?" Garibaldi scolded. "Lets get out of here before our luck quota runs out."

"How did they interrogate you?" Jenny asked. "Do they speak English?"

"No, they used that translator." He pointed to a small box on the table.

"We were working on their language." Jenny took the device and put it in her back pack. "Call it a bonus."

"Anything else you want to steal while we're here?" Bugs grinned.

"So far so good." Jenny returned the smile, highlighting her attractive features. "Besides, I already lifted one of their recorders from the table by the recorder, let us see how Dilgar computers work."

"Okay, about the escaping?" Garibaldi pressed. "Anytime now."

They began to file out of the room, garibaldi gave a quick wave to the tied up scientists and then followed.

Hospital

Jha'dur tightened her day uniform and straightened it in the mirror. Less fancy than her dress uniform and more practical but still with enough decoration to clearly announce her position and power. As she dressed she had already formulated a quick plan to redirect the search efforts north to quickly trap the renegede humans, as she thought more it seemed more and more simple to understand the reasoning of whomever led the survivors. She hoisted on her belt and sidearm then opened her door to see Tar'val stood guard.

"Warmaster, I wasn't expecting…"

"Awake my interrogators, I need the human to talk right now." She said without breaking stride. "Also get a map of this area, I want to know what a group of humans would want to find up here."

"About the human…"

"They would ultimately want to escape, that means ships." She thought aloud. "If they could not escape then based on their cruisers actions they would try to do as much damage as possible, maybe destroy communication networks or command facilities." Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks, Tar'val barely halting in time and avoiding a collision. "All of which are centred here. Ships, command systems, research and even me."

"They wouldn't be so…"

"They tried it in orbit." Jha'dur snapped. "I want the guard doubled right now!" She ordered. "Get the human for me, no more subtlety anymore, just pain."

"Warmaster we moved him to the university." Tar'val blurted out.

She gave him a very cold look. "On who's orders?"

"We thought yours, Dra'yash wanted to test…"

She whipped out a communicator and activated it. "Professor Dra'yash?" she spoke into it. "Answer me now!"

There was silence for a moment. "Perhaps he is busy?" Tar'val offered.

"Don't be a fool." Jha'dur could feel a smile coming on as realisation dawned. "If I called you at any time would you ignore me?"

"Absolutely not Warmaster." He said, there wasn't a Dilgar in the galaxy who would dare risk angering Deathwalker.

"They are here, the humans." She chuckled. "Unbelievable. Sound the alarm, call out every soldier and bring them to me, I want as many of them as possible taken alive, do not disappoint me."

He quickly saluted and ran out down the corridor collecting guards on his way. A few seconds later alarms began to split the air and rouse the troops in the city to arms. They had made a bold move, but ultimately Jha'dur had been one step ahead of them. She strolled to a window over looking the courtyard and university and prepared to observe the spectacle.

Airfield.

The night air was ripped by sirens, and immediately the troops hit the ground laying on the soft dry grass of the park no serving as a parking place for the Warmasters entourage.

"What's that? Sirens?" Toby yelped.

"Keep it down!" Paul snarled.

"What happened, does this mean things aren't good?" he continued.

"Have you ever heard a 'good' siren?" Private Harlow snapped, her delicate features hidden in a plain helmet.

"No one's coming." Paul pointed out. "I guess they haven't seen us."

While Paul and his crew were more than a little shaken by the sudden noise the troopers around them seemed totally calm, they might not have liked or expected to be found but they had planned for it and now silently changed tactics from Sneak to Assault. As unit leader Harlow began setting up the team for their new mission.

"They must have found Freddy." Turnbow grunted. "We need to move and secure a shuttle, he could be heading this way in a hurry."

Or he could be dead, Paul thought, but either way stealth was no longer an issue, just speed. The soldiers moved out, keeping low and moving in small spaced out groups around the edge of the airfield looking for a useable shuttle. The Dilgar were beginning to move, mostly they visible ones were mechanics and pilots working on the shuttles but soon they would be knee deep in heavily armed hostiles and tanks.

"Over there." Harlow pointed out a sleek green looking craft to Paul. "How's that one look?"

"Perfect." He smiled, it was the ship he would have picked, it looked much more agile and powerful than the other blocky spacecraft lined up around the park. "I even like the colour."

"Turnbow," Harlow waved. "Go right with your section, I'll go left and meet you at the ship. Our covers blown so just go in hard and fast. You with me?"

"With you." He brandished his rifle. "I'm getting sick of just hiding anyway."

Harlow nodded. "Me too, watch your fire and your tactical systems." She realised Turnbow knew his stuff, but her instructions were as much to assure herself as remind the others. She gave him a quick slap on the arm and then turned to Paul. "Follow me, but stay low and away from the line of fire, we don't want to lose our pilots."

"Your pilots aren't keen on the idea either." He gave a sideways grin. "Here we go huh?"

"Here we go." Harlow nodded, then set off at a brisk jog circling around to the shuttles parking spot. Paul let the other troops go first, then with a quick prayer followed on. Jors and Toby brought up the rear carrying the engine regulator needed for the _Space Race_ to escape with. The soldiers moved in utter silence, Harlow didn't need to issue direct orders verbally but could simply instruct each trooper through her battlefield command software, sending directions and objectives direct to the tactical displays in their helmets. She herself hung back coordinating the effort and watching the pilots, keeping a dozen yards or so ahead of the crew.

Up ahead Paul saw Harlow getting closer to the spotlighted shuttle and the technicians fiddling around with fuel cells in a covered tent a dozen yards away from it. One of them spotted the troops heading his way and challenged them, drawing the attention of his comrades and a small group of guards. The Earth troops didn't slow down, they kept running straight for the ship in silence. Harlow made sure they kept moving in pairs with each individual able to rely on the covering fire from their 'Battle buddy' and support from the other pairs that made up the section. They were darting along in the night using night vision, one soldier of the pair providing cover while the second moved a dozen yards forward, then switching roles. As the got closer the Dilgar guards called out and began to activate their rifles, the time had finally come.

Harlow slid to the floor and opened fire making sure she presented a low profile and making it hard for the Dilgar to hit her. The rest of the unit followed her lead and soon a highly focused volley of automatic fire was sweeping the Dilgar ahead. Paul was a little surprised that Harlow had fired first, in movies the good guys usually let the enemy take the first shot, but as the first blue strobing energy bolts came sizzling over his head he was reminded this was definitely not a movie.

More Dilgar soldiers charged across the airfield to confront them and the return fire gradually intensified. Harlows people inched forward a few paces at a time, firing and then moving to keep the Dilgar guessing at their numbers. While PPG's were highly efficient weapons one of the big disadvantages was the bright plasma ball they fired and the fact that they gave away the firing soldiers position to anyone with eyes or a thermal scanner. As a result Earth soldiers had learned to 'Shoot and scoot' so enemy counter fire tended to hit empty ground where a trooper used to be. Unfortunately the Dilgar hadn't learned this concept themselves and Harlow's unit were picking them off with regularity.

"Should we try and help?" Toby called out.

"No, keep down and back here." Paul commanded. "Let the pro's handle it!"

He couldn't make any real sense of the situation, he could recognize red friendly fire and the blue Dilgar weapons along with roughly where either group was but that was it. Many Dilgar were in cover behind dismantled engines and tool cabinets and seemed to be causing lots of trouble for the human troops, slowing the advance to a crawl. The shuttle was still intact and only a few stray rounds had hit it causing no actual damage. Suddenly the intensity of the red fire seemed to grow as a wave of it swept in from the side of the battle. Turnbows troops had circled around the airfield while the Dilgar were distracted by Harlow's unit and now were in position to enfilade the enemy in cover, shooting them in the side and back while they were pinned by Harlow.

The Dilgar held their ground despite being outflanked and in an untenable position, the concept of running away as alien to them as mercy or compassion. One of Harlow's soldiers dropped as he ran for a new position, grabbing his left leg as he collapsed and rolled with a gasp of shock. A pair of Dilgar soldiers made a mad dash towards Turnbow's flanking force, roaring a challenge of single combat and being struck by four separate bursts of fire. The strongest resistance was embedded behind a makeshift barricade of engine parts and furniture and seemed to be occupied by the smartest of the Dilgar troops. They kept their heads down and maintained a withering fire against both Earth Force groups making sure anyone dashing for the shuttle would be hit. At this point Harlow would have sold a kidney for an airborne recon drone to give her a better picture of the hostile position.

"Harlow!" a voice shouted on her comms suite. "You there?"

"Freddy." She recognized Garibaldi's irate tone. "We're here, what happened?"

"I dunno, but we need to go now, you got a shuttle?"

"Working on it." She answered, putting a burst uselessly into the barricade.

"Well work fast, we're done here and we're heading back with Ross."

"You found Ross?" Harlow smiled. "I bet he's telling you it wasn't his fault he got captured!"

"Too right." Garibaldi chuckled. "Okay, secure a ride, watch for us from the south, we'll probably have company."

"We'll be ready to cover, Harlow out." She grimaced at the Dilgar strongpoint, this had to end fast. "Reiner, you receiving?"

After a moment a young sounding male replied. "I'm here."

"My imaging shows you as closest to the makeshift bunker, you got a frag grenade?"

"Sure, you want me to use it?"

"Might be a good idea, unless you want to stay here all night?"

"On it."

"Cover fire!" she announced to the whole unit. "Cover fire!"

Both sections began to lay down automatic fire on the barricade, the sudden increase in plasma forced the Dilgar to take cover until the Earth troops reloaded. While the soldiers fired Reiner moved forward to within throwing range and lobbed a grenade like a baseball pitcher, then immediately dropped flat and hugged the ground. His grenade arced beautifully over the defences and dropped behind the Dilgar much to their surprise. One tried to grab it and throw it back but he was nowhere near quick enough. The explosion triggered some nearby fuel cells and what should have been a short sharp bang turned into a colossal orange fireball which utterly annihilated the dug in Dilgar troops and drew gasps of awe from the civilian crew.

"This is so cool!" Toby grinned.

"If they hadn't spotted us before they sure will now." Jors groaned as the bright flame licked high into the sky.

"You guys!" Harlow shouted at them. "We've got a clear run! Move it!"

"About time." Toby said, still dominated by adrenalin. "I hope we run into trouble!"

Paul gave him a quick slap on the back of his head. "Don't you dare jinx this, get a damn move on!"

The ran forward under the watchful eye of the platoon, one or two troops exchanged fire with distant Dilgar but the airfield had gotten much quieter since the explosion giving them a brief window to exploit. They ran up into the ship and settled down in the cockpit.

"What do you think?" Paul asked Jors.

"I think the writings in Dilgar." He grimaced. "But the layout seems standard, give me a few minutes and I'll have us airborne."

Paul nodded and ran to the back of the ship and its hatch to find Harlow. "Can you buy us a few more minutes?"

"Make it quick." She said. "Our thermal scans show vehicle engines in the distance, we're going to have lots of company soon."

One of the wounded soldiers was helped aboard and then added his fire from the cover of the doorway, Paul saw a dark shadow in the distance suddenly lit by a ball of red energy before tumbling back.

"They're coming in small groups for now." Harlow said. "We can handle them, just get us airborne."

Paul nodded in acknowledgement and then went to help Jors, it would be a cruel twist to come so far and ultimately lose because they couldn't hot wire a shuttle.

University

"What did you touch!" Bugs snapped.

"I didn't do it!" Ross held up his hands as the alarm sounded.

""I told you not to touch anything! You're like walking bad luck!" he continued as the sirens wailed across the compounds.

"Cut it out." Garibaldi said firmly. "Harlow is finding us a ride, we're done here so lets move."

There was no argument, they headed out of the lab and began to travel briskly for the stairwell.

"There's a fire door at the back." Jenny said. "Its probably the best exit, closest to the airfield and the building will shield us from being spotted from the Hospital."

"We're right behind you." Garibaldi nodded and was content to follow her lead. He still didn't entirely trust the operative and figured she was keeping secrets from them, but like he'd said to Paul she was a definite asset to the team and so far had been instrumental in finding Ross and the data from the _Persephone_, something Garibaldi wouldn't even have known about without her help. He'd never met a genuine special forces operative before and found himself surprised by how normal she was, he'd guessed anyone with that level of training and dedication would be little more than a machine but Jenny had seemed just like her civilian crew mates, and while some of that was a lie he believed her hurt at discarded by her friends was genuine. When this was over he hoped to have a long talk with her and see if he could find the real Jenny Sakai.

The scrambled down the stair well and rounded the bottom bursting into the ground floor corridor, now fully illuminated. On the far side of the door they found themselves staring at two very surprised Dilgar guardsmen in ceremonial uniforms and well-kept weapons. They got over their shock quickly and tried to open fire but a quick burst from Garibaldi's PPG dropped one while Jenny finished the other with a flawless head shot.

"Who is this girl?" Ross asked as they passed by the two fallen enemies.

"Real long story." Tucker told him. "Tell you later."

Garibaldi made it to the door and pushed it open, it swung wide and slammed into the wall with a bang barely noticeable over the constant alarms. He was charging out of the door full pelt when a rumble in front of him caught his attention and a quick warning from his battlefield sensors. The wall around the compound crumbled at a point just in front of him and through the dust and debris bounced a Dilgar armoured vehicle. It had a basic rectangular shape with eight large wheels and a pointed nose like a snowplough designed for punching through obstacles and barriers. On its roof was a low turret with two visible weapons which were right now tracking towards him and the doorway.

He skidded to a halt and almost ended up sliding onto his rear. Fighting for balance he scrabbled back towards the door. "Back! Get back in!"

Jenny who had been close behind was already there, Tucker had just arrived in the doorway. "What? We aren't leaving?" Then he saw the armoured vehicle and recognized why. "Crap!" he yelled and reached out for Garibaldi, grabbing his arm and huling him in as the first energy rounds chewed up the floor and door frame.

"Front door." Jenny said. "Run!"

With their preferred escape route blocked they had to move fast for the other logical way out despite the likelihood of there being enemy troops moving to the same location, it would be a race to get there first. The doorway behind them suddenly exploded inwards in black smoke and a shower of wood and stone fragments that bounced off the corridor walls and stung their limbs. The Dilgar vehicle had loaded a type of grenade launcher and along with its energy cannon was busily trying to make the small teams lives extremely difficult and short. It began blasting through the walls beside the doorway trying to catch the troops as they fled, gaping holes were shot through filling the corridor with dust and debris coupled with blue streams of rapid-fire energy bolts. Garibaldi was running almost doubling over keeping his head down, the constant explosions and concussion pounding his chest as he ran for the end of the corridor. He burst through the door shoulder first without even slowing and turned away through the building and put distance between the team and the outer walls the Dilgar vehicle was busily removing.

"Anybody hit?" he asked, breathing heavily.

The group seemed okay, though each was covered in dust and without the benefit of a sealed helmet Jenny was coughing slightly, but all in all they seemed fine. "Don't wait." She said. "Keep running!"

Turning back along the new corridor they ran the length of the building from front to back in record time finding no trace of the enemy until they burst into the lobby, a wide open area with reception desks and a few large plants leading to the main doorway. Some Dilgar troops were watching the door from the inside and seemed rather confused as to what was going on. Like the earlier troops these too wore bright well-kept uniforms and seemed to lack any sophisticated equipment.

Garibaldi's team didn't waste the element of surprise and immediately fired, sliding into cover behind the plants and desks. Their helmet systems were linked to scopes on the rifle allowing the troops to see where the rifle was pointing without actually raising their head above cover. It was a difficult and disorientating view for new soldiers but the 99th had proven very able to master the intricacies of the full battle management system and used it to fire on the Dilgar with minimal risk of being hit by return fire. Garibaldi brought down one of the troops then reloaded, discarding the drained energy cap and fixing in a new one with a loud hiss. The lobby guards were clustered together and didn't even try to find cover, they just stood in the open and tried to shoot the soldiers in cover, it was a losing proposition.

Jenny took down the last one, then vaulted over a desk and charged for the door, Garibaldi and his group following on. They reached the glass doors, yanked them open and immediately came under fire. Jenny retreated while Garibaldi and Tucker dropped to their knees and fired back at the origin of the blue bolts. Their rounds splashed on a low wall fifty yards ahead of the doorway where a unit of Dilgar troops were sheltering, and even with the advanced targeting provided by their systems they couldn't fire past the cover.

"Back." Garibaldi ordered and edged out of the doorway. "Back into cover."

They retired into the lobby and took up positions behind the thick plant pots and solid desks again.

"Marty watch our backs." Garibaldi ordered. "Rest of you watch the door."

"Now what?" Tucker asked. "Go through a window?"

"Won't matter." Jenny said. "They have front and back covered. We step out and we're history."

The doorway shattered as more fire hit it, grass and debris rained in and tinkled across the floor.

"So we're trapped?" Bugs snarled. "You know this is all Ross' fault!"

"Harlow will be on her way with a lift soon." Jenny stated. ""And the rest of the platoon, we run under cover from them."

"Alright, but first we gotta shoot those guys!" Garibaldi quickly aimed at the door as a group of Dilgar ran into the lobby yelling at the top of their lungs. Like their comrades they wore bright uniforms and ran forward with little regard for the practicalities of battle right into the timed fire of the Earth troops. They fell quickly, barely making it past the entry way before becoming no more than bodies on the well-kept floor. Some managed a shot or two before Garibaldi's group targeted them but it seemed no more than foolish bravery. However the Dilgar had not become as powerful as they were by being so careless, while the well-dressed troops were charging forward into the PPG's a second group of more professional Dilgar troops were taken position around the doorway. These troops wore dull grey and green battledress with helmets and body armour similar to the Earth force troops and like them they moved quickly from cover to cover with the specific intention of not getting killed. As their comrades died they set up and began pouring fire at the Earth troops.

"Dammit!" Garibaldi exclaimed as an energy bolt tore through the top of his helmet singing his scalp. "Stay low!"

His troops fired from cover and managed to wound one of the regular Dilgar soldiers but the others were proving very difficult to dislodge. The well-dressed soldiers had been part of Jha'durs personal entourage, fanatically brave and loyal but more used to rounding up unarmed civilians for their leaders various experiments than fighting well trained opponents. Unfortunately the regular Dilgar infantry were mobilising now against the platoon and they were both trained and prepared for these types of situations and attacked with cold and clinical detachment.

The tree Garibaldi was sheltering under fell apart under the intense fire, leaves and bark falling leaving wispy smoke trails and the odour of burnt tobacco around him. "We need to pull back, we're too exposed!" he ordered. "Tucker, grenade!"

The soldier pulled the pin and activated the fuse on a standard grenade and threw it towards the main concentration of enemy troops. They should have had smoke grenades for situations like this but like so many things they had been lost when their landing shuttle had been destroyed. The enemy trrops leapt out of the way and took cover as hoped, disrupting their suppressing fire while they tried to avoid the blast. Casualties were light from the explosion but by the time they recovered the Earth soldiers were out of the lobby and back into the long network of halls and corridors in the university.

"Now where?" Ross demanded.

"Upstairs!" Jenny answered. "Head back to the stair well!"

"Are you crazy!" Marty yelled as he and Tucker formed the rearguard, shuffling backwards and watching for pursuit. "We'll be totally cut off!"

"We go for the roof." Jenny continued. "We're leaving by air, they can pick us up from the roof!"

"That's what we do." Garibaldi agreed, he didn't have time to think through all the pros and cons of the plan, Jenny wanted out of here as much as they did and she was trained to make these kind of snap decisions, he had no choice but to trust her.

Some nearby glass smashed, and before Garibaldi could pinpoint it a hail of fire burst through one of the doors lining the corridor just as Tucker passed by, the blue energy bolts flinging him against the opposite wall with a cry of shock and pain.

"Tucker, hang on!" he yelled and ran back to get him. As he did so a black clad soldier stepped out of the door and turned a rifle on him at near point blank range. He didn't even have time to react properly, he just went limp and dropped flat as the rifle fired almost in his face, the energy bolts grazing past his helmet. He slid past the Dilgar like a baseball player trying to reach fourth base and ended up on his back with the enemy behind him. Before he even stopped he had the PPG raised and its trigger depressed sending plasma into the black soldier before he could turn and finish off Garibaldi or his friends. The Dilgar fell back and Garibaldi came to a halt beside Tucker, his mind finally connecting with memory and recognizing one of the Dilgar special forces soldiers who had ambushed them at the cave.

"Way to go Freddy!" Marty grinned. "Give me a hand with Tuck."

He quickly scrambled up, the rest of his group had followed and while Jenny checked the room the Dilgar commando had come from the others watched the corridor. Marty handed Garibaldi his rifle and grabbed Tucker, the wounded soldier hissing in sudden pain. He was a heavy man and powerfully built and Marty would have had a hard time carrying him in an ideal situation, let alone in full combat rig.

"Enemy!" Bugs warned, and around the corner of the corridor two Dilgar soldiers appeared from the lobby. He and Garibaldi engaged and quickly brought them down, but more were following.

"Just drag him!" Garibaldi said. "Get to the stairs!"

Marty began pulling Tucker, the big Londoner gasped in pain again but now focused more on anger. He held his rifle across his chest and opened fire at the far end of the hall. "Dilgar bastards! Get some of this!" he yelled and kept on cursing through his injuries.

"We'll hold them here for a minute or two." Garibaldi said to Bugs and Ross.

"Me too." Jenny fired her PPG pistol into the head of a Dilgar soldier as it popped around the corner.

"No, you need to go make sure the way is clear, especially of those Special Forces Dilgar."

She thought for a second, then nodded. "Alright, don't wait too long." Then she disappeared behind them.

More Dilgar rounds chewed into the walls, the flimsy plaster exploding outwards filling the room with dust. The Dilgar weren't able to get around the corridor without meeting resistance but it didn't stop them trying. While the other two kept the enemy back Garibaldi shot out the lights to give them some extra cover and hinder the enemy.

"Alright, move back slowly." Garibaldi said when he saw Tucker was almost out, still swearing loudly at his attackers. "One at a time, you know the drill."

Bugs moved first, heading to the next doorway down while Ross and Garibaldi covered. When he arrived he took over firing to let Ross pull back, and when he arrived it was Garibaldi's turn. A Dilgar grenade rolled around the corner and bounced towards him which encouraged Alfredo to increase his speed somewhat, the explosion blowing out a wall and causing a portion of the roof to fall behind him, the sheer heat made his back feel like it was on fire for a few moments afterwards. Through the dust and smoke the Dilgar came keeping close to the walls and laying down plenty of fire, two fell to the Earth force fire but the rest didn't hesitate

"We're through." Marty said on the helmet comms. "Heading upstairs."

"Keep moving back!" Garibaldi ordered. "Take it steady!"

Another Dilgar flopped to the floor, his comrade stepping over him with barely glance. The weight of fire was increasing and there was no way Garibaldi could hold this position. They began to move faster back to the stair well. A sudden burst of fire seared past Garibaldi, and with a yelp caught Ross in the shoulder. The defensive fire slackened and the enemy pushed forward.

"Get him into the stairwell!" Garibaldi yelled, then unslung Marty's rifle he had been carrying and stepped in front of the door. With a rifle in each hand he unleashed a full auto stream down the corridor, putting himself between the wounded Ross and the escape way, now just yards away. Bugs pushed his wounded colleague through under cover and braced himself against the doorway.

"Come on Freddy! Get back here!"

With no recoil Garibaldi managed a good degree of accuracy even firing single-handed, the two rifles flashing and hissing in his hands as he tried to scour the Dilgar from the corridors. He yelled in defiance as return fire chipped the walls around him.

"Freddy, bloody move!"

The two rifles ceased firing as they ran out of charge and Garibaldi quickly regained his instincts, he turned and ran for the door while Bugs provided cover. "Who do you think you are? Rambo?" he grinned as Garibaldi bounced past and headed upstairs. Bugs popped a fresh grenade and threw it into the hallway, then ran upstairs after him avoiding the explosion.

"Ross, how are you?" Garibaldi stepped onto the first floor almost exactly where they'd arrived near the lab with the data recorder.

"In pain!" he snapped. "But I'll live."

Garibaldi took off Marty's rifle and put in a fresh charge. "Jenny, catch." He threw her the weapon which she nimbly grabbed. "Give Marty the pistol, he'll be taking Tucker to the roof."

"I found an access stair in the labs." She said. "Straight to the roof."

"Nice one." Garibaldi nodded and activated his comms. "Harlow, do you copy?"

"I hear you." The answer came.

"You got a bird in the air yet?"

"Working on it."

Garibaldi cursed under his breath. "Work faster, we've got the whole Imperium on our butts here!"

"Won't be long now, Harlow out."

Tucker looked up at him. "No lift?"

"Not yet, lets hit the roof."

They moved back into the lab, tied up scientists huddled in one corner watching them nervously as Marty dragged Tucker through the doors and towards the roof access. Garibaldi dropped a grenade down the stairwell in an attempt to damage them and slow pursuit but he knew there were two more stairwells up to this floor and they wouldn't be delayed long. They moved across the lab and stayed away from the windows lining the far side incase the Dilgar had learned about snipers.

"Watch for trouble from the scientists," Garibaldi warned. "Last thing I want is a knife in my back."

"We should kill them." Jenny said plainly. "We don't need to take these risks." She stared down at the tied scientists.

"Their civilians." Bugs said almost appalled. "Sure their Dilgar but…"

"We're in a serious situation here, we can't risk them telling their command about us." She lowered her rifle and pointed it towards the head of the nearest Dilgar. "First rule of Covert Operations, no witnesses."

"This isn't a Covert operation, its an escape." Garibaldi spoke plainly. "It doesn't matter what they say to command when we're gone, it won't bother us when we're knocking back pitchers on Mars."

She did not move, keeping the rifle trained on the group. "This is the smart thing to do."

"Maybe, but I'm not quite there yet." Garibaldi said. "Come on, it won't make a difference."

She raised the rifle, guessing that they'd probably have short enough life expectancies if the Warmaster chose to blame them for losing the captured data.

"You're doing the right thing." Garibaldi told her, then looked to his team mates. "Go secure the roof and take Tucker up, we'll watch your backs."

Jenny stood at the lab door with Garibaldi watching for trouble while Ross went up on the roof to take a look around. Both Bugs and Marty were needed to carry Tucker up the narrow roof access stairs so for a few minutes the teams firepower would be greatly reduced.

"So is this like an average day for a spy?" Garibaldi asked.

"Well it could use a Martini." Jenny quipped. "Actually this is my first time in combat."

"You're kidding?"

"No, those three commando's in the cave? First guys I ever killed."

"Wow." He took onboard the knowledge. "Didn't seem to bother you."

"It's the training, you know how it is."

There was a scrape behind them, and before Garibaldi even turned his head Jenny had jutted out her elbow and hit something. An area of the room behind her rippled and then coalesced into the black shape of a Dilgar commando, its chamealeon suit still a disturbingly exotic piece of technology.

Jenny already had landed two more punches and disarmed the man of his rifle by the time Garibaldi reacted enough to take aim at the commando, he found his aim blocked by the fast moving girl and couldn't take a shot, not that it looked like she needed help. However this commando must have paid more attention in combat school, he kicked back and doubled Jenny over, knocking her own PPG rifle to one side. Garibaldi took aim again but Jenny was already back in action, and with a curse he held his fire.

She struck the commando with surprising force and he spun physically around, but recovered instantly and pusher her back. With a vicious kick she lost her balance and fell at Garibaldi's feet, forcing him to sidestep and in that one moment when he had a clear shot he was unable to take it and the commando was on him. In a sharp move he grabbed Garibaldi's rifle and pulled forward, unwilling to let go he went with it and was tripped by the commando, losing his grip anyway and falling onto his face. Before the Dilgar could put a plasma bolt in his back Jenny was up and fighting again, pushing the soldier back and forcing him into single combat. She ducked and dodged his attacks but found her own strikes blocked by the powerful alien, it was looking like a stalemate which would soon end as more regular Dilgar soldiers charged through the building. Garibaldi picked himself up and felt a heavy object at his finger tips, it was the crowbar he had taken from a technician earlier. With a feral grin he grabbed it and leapt up coming at the commando behind. Distracted by Jenny the alien didn't react fast enough and Garibaldi landed a solid blow on the back of its end sending it straight to the floor.

"Damn I hate those guys." He landed another blow on the fallen soldier. "Come out of nowhere." He hit it again. "Like a damn horror movie." He hit it one more time, then discarded the crowbar. "If he gets up after that we'll need an exorcist."

"Thanks." Jenny managed a warm smile. "Although I could have taken him alone." She laughed and retrieved their weapons.

"You know, I bet you could." Garibaldi chuckled.

The windows at the far end of the room blew inwards with a loud crash, energy weapons fire tearing up the frame and wall around it. Moments later an explosion detonated under the floor dropping away a significant amount of the room into the hallways and classrooms below. The Dilgar armoured vehicle had moved around to support the attack and was systematically destroying the floor they were on.

"Roof." Jenny said, and Garibaldi scrambled up behind her through the access. The room beneath them being shredded by heavy automatic fire. He came nose to nose with Bugs rifle and startled himself before his comrade helped him up, Jenny already looking over the edge of the roof.

"Nowhere to run now." Bugs observed. "And we have incoming."

Garibaldi looked in the same direction as Bugs and spotted a low flying Dilgar aircraft, much sleeker than a shuttle it looked decidedly more aggressive and purposeful. "Could be Harlow." He said.

"The way our luck runs?" Bugs scoffed. "I don't think so."

"Harlow, you hear me?" He asked over the comms. "Harlow?"

The craft roared closer, its engines keeping it hovering at low level above ground and drowning out the weapons fire from the Dilgar below demolishing the building. It nosed past the hospital and came to face them.

"If they are hostile, and we have nowhere left to run…" Marty left the thought unfinished.

A small door opened in the nose of the ship and a cannon dropped down, swivelling on a hardpoint it began to charge up with energy.

"Crap." Garibaldi muttered. "At least they won't get the data from the _Persephone_."

Jenny nodded and grabbed the crystals from her pocket and a grenade. "I'll make sure they don't."

The craft turned sharply, pointing its nose and cannon away from them and down into the courtyard. Garibaldi strained to see through the cockpit window and almost yelled for joy when he saw Paul Calendar waving at him. Bugs was less restrained.

"Yes!" he punched the air. "Oh hell that's how it's done!"

The craft fired, particle bolts screaming through the air and hitting the armoured vehicle, blasting it open like rags in a storm. It kept up firing on the troops while the back eased around and a door opened.

"Harlow!" Garibaldi shouted at the soldier stood in the hatchway. "Answer your damn radio in the future!"

"Sorry Freddy," she shouted. "Come on, get aboard!"

Turnbow leapt onto the roof, the big soldier lifted Tucker with a grunt and nimbly stepped onto the hovering ship. Ross followed as did Bugs and Marty. Jenny however had her attention elsewhere.

"Come on!" Garibaldi called. "We gotta go!"

"Wait!" she said. "Look, its Jha'dur!"

Garibaldi stared off the edge of the roof and at the hospital doorway stood the immaculate Warmaster staring almost straight at them.

"Doesn't matter, come on!" he continued.

"Just give me a second!" she shouted over the engines and raised her PPG rifle. "Just one second." She said as took careful aim.

Hospital.

As soon as things started blowing up Jha'dur knew she was right. She hurtled out the upper floor room and stormed down to the ground floor. Once there she had been appalled at the confusion, it was as if the soldiers had never faced a real enemy before. Her personal guard had charged in attempting to impress their Warmaster and succeeding in little more than wasting good uniforms by getting blood spilled on them. The regular army did better, but they were still reacting too slowly and whoever was leading the operation was a ham fisted idiot.

"You!" she jutted a finger at a nearby soldier. "Where is your officer?"

He jumped when addressed by her, he fumbled a salute and spoke haltingly. "I-I don't know, Warmaster. We're just shooting at the building."

"Then why don't you go into the building?"

"Well I…"

"That was not a suggestion soldier." She said firmly. "Take as many strays as you can find, get in there and bring me them out alive!"

He moved like a startled rabbit and darted for the building, its front chewed away by repeated impacts. Piles of bricks and rubble lay around it and small fires had been ignited in the upper floors sending pale smoke into the night time sky. She observed the soldier rally some comrades with energetic nods and waves towards where Jha'dur was stood, and then run unopposed into the building. She noted the lack of return fire from the building, hoping the occupiers were pinned in a corner somewhere cowering before the attack and not actually dead yet. She wanted live specimens.

"Tar'val!" she caught sight of her head guardsman close by talking to some field commanders. "Provide a report."

The officer quickly trotted forward and saluted. "Warmaster, we have cornered between five and ten human soldiers in that building. Forces are attempting to flush them out."

"Just ten?" she frowned. "We predicted there would be many more."

"We have reports of more near the airfield, we are sending a company to investigate."

"Make sure it has armour backing it up." She said. "And tell everyone I want prisoners."

"Of course Warmaster."

The scene was suddenly treated to the defeaning sound of a nearby spacecraft launch. Jha'dur searched the sky and found a craft coming in from the airfield. "Great, no what." She muttered. "Did you ask for air support?" she glared at Tar'val.

"No Warmaster, it must be an over zealous pilot."

"Well get him down before he kills my prisoners!" she snapped. "Inform him of the consequences of disobeying me."

While Tar'val tried to raise the craft by now directly overhead it suddenly opened fire, destroying the nearby armoured vehicle in a sheet of flame. Everyone nearby ducked in the face of the explosion except Jha'dur who remained calmly stood in front of the hospital, smoking debris falling all around. "Get up!" she snarled. "Bring that ship down!"

The troops around her began firing but to little avail, their weapons couldn't hurt the armoured shell of the spacecraft and only served to attract the attention of the vessels gunner. Never the less they would not disobey their commanders and kept firing. It seemed obvious that the pilot was not some rogue Dilgar or Tirrithan spy, it was one of them, a human. The ship eased over the roof and she could clearly see green clad soldiers jumping onto the craft, the ships cannon made sure no Dilgar fire interrupted the operation.

"Tarval. You have one more chance to stop them. I suggest you take it."

Glancing back at her he quickly understood that she was not particularly happy about her prize specimens escaping and that she would gladly take that frustration out on him. "All units Fire! Go for the engines! Fire, quickly!"

More blue rounds went up, but none could touch the ships armour and merely scratched the paint. It was completely useless and Tar'val got more and more desperate as his actions proved futile. "Board it!" Nobody dared asked how, so just kept firing.

Jha'dur turned her gaze to the roof, two humans had not embarked. With detached fascination she watched as one of the humans, she guessed a female, pointed a rifle towards her. It was a shot most Dilgar wouldn't have tried, a few hundred yards buffeted by the hovering craft and distracted by the gunfire from below there was no way she could hit Jha'dur, especially with just a normal rifle. Still there was a chance based on what she had seen that these humans were unspeakably lucky and this might just cause problems. She was however a Warmaster of the Dilgar, and Warmasters did not hide. She stood straighter and stared directly at the rooftop sniper daring her to fire, challenging the human to take the shot and try to thwart her destiny.

Jenny fired, the plasma bolt flying with unerring accuracy directly at Jha'durs chest. The Warmaster had a moment of panic as she realised in that fraction of a second that the human was actually a damn good shot. The bolt vanished two feet in front of her, crashing into thin air with a strong smell of burning polymers. The air rippled and formed into a black clad soldier, one of her elite Spectres who had been stood before her and taken the hit. As he dropped to the floor two more materialised beside Jha'dur and raised their expensive weapons. Throughout the sudden attack Jha'dur hadn't even flinched, it just wasn't her way.

The two humans finally turned and ran for the shuttle, climbing up into its hatchway. The Spectres beside Jha'dur took very careful aim, the barrels of their rifles swivelling minutely to compensate for the breathing of their operators and line up perfectly aimed for the hearts of the two fleeing humans. They tensed thair triggers and achieved a precision lock.

"Hold your fire." Jha'dur said softly. For a heart beat the Spectres held their weapons steady then dropped them down to the at ease position. "I like her." Jha'dur smiled. "I want her alive."

The hatch closed up, and as the ship moved away she glanced a human in the cockpit as it swung around. The man smiled and waved at Jha'dur clearly very happy to have come so far. In return Jha'dur copied a hand signal she had learned from her captive extending her middle finger to the pilot. The look of shock on his face was enough to almost make her break out in laughter. The ship pulled around and blasted off, heating the air and causing most of the soldiers to turn away, but not Jha'dur. She watched it head away into the night sky becoming little more than a twinkling star.

"Tar'val." She said gently. "They appear to have escaped."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Did we actually kill or capture any of them?"

"No Warmaster."

"Did they rescue the prisoner Ross?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"And the data recorder?"

"A cursory examination suggested it had been emptied of its computer core."

"Is that it there?" she pointed to a metal object buried in the rubble of the building. "Crushed and ruined by your orders to fire randomly into the building filled with vital intelligence?"

This time Tar'val did not answer.

"And that was my personal shuttle wasn't it? The one they made their get away in?"

Again he did not answer.

"So they escape with all of my intelligence, and what they leave behind you conveniently destroy for them. And the best bit, this is my personal favourite part of the evening, they use my ship to escape."

"They also stole our language files and one of our computers." Tar'val said, hoping maybe complete honesty would save him from a particularly long death. "I take full responsibility Warmaster."

"Yes you do." She said warmly, a warmth that did nothing to reassure the officer. "The regular troops fought well, their officers did not." She turned to the two Spectres. "Take him to my lab, then round up each of the other officers and take them to holding cells"

The Spectres obeyed without a word, while Tar'val headed Jha'durs bodyguards she trusted the silent assassins a hell of a lot more than a preening sadist who took guard duty to avoid real fighting. She needed to know if her vaccines for Dilgar troops would be safe for large scale use, and now she had found a dozen or so subjects to test them out on. He was dragged away into the hospital and Jha'dur didn't give him a second glance, instead she stormed towards a crouching communications operator.

"Stand up." She commanded, then took the microphone from his back pack ultra long range comms system. She entered the channel and spoke. "This is Warmaster Jha'dur. Respond?"

"This is orbital command Warmaster, how may we serve?" a voice answered.

She smiled, the humans were smart and resourceful but they were still playing her game in her playing field. "A ship will be achieving orbit in a few seconds, deploy fighters and shoot out its engines. Do not destroy it, do you understand?"

"Completely Warmaster."

"Then see to it, and when will my brothers warships arrive?"

"Within a few minutes, they are close to the beacon now."

Her pieces moved into place, there would be no escape for the exceptionally annoying human survivors, she had nearly twenty warships about to come through the gate and a thousand more close behind. She respected their nerve, maybe even admired them in an abstract way, but soon she would have her curiosity sated and a whole new set of individuals to study.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 24

Tirrith orbit.

Paul brought the stolen shuttle neatly up into orbit and away from the grasp of gravity behind them. To say the escape was exciting was a bit of an understatement but by now he'd gotten used to these life or death situations, all thanks to his stowaway spy. He had expected Jenny to survive and while he might have once wished her dead by now his anger had turned to pure cold hatred and disgust. He no longer cared enough about her to imagine her death, he had been knifed in the heart by a woman he considered one of his closest friends, it was not a feeling that would ever likely go away. He noticed his fingers were digging into the control column of the shuttle and forced himself to lessen the grip, he couldn't change the past and certainly couldn't afford to dwell on it at this stage.

"That was nice flying." A man congratulated him, by the voice he guessed Garibaldi but he couldn't turn to face him.

"Thanks." Paul said over his shoulder. "Did you get what you needed?"

"Thanks to Jenny." Garibaldi made a point of thanking the Special Forces operative. "Earth will have plenty of data on the Dilgar now."

"Guess she succeeded in her mission then." Paul spoke flatly. "All worth while in the end."

"Lets not forget you weren't the only one to lose a buddy out here!" Garibaldi snapped. "And straight up, I'm getting tired of you acting like the centre of the universe! I lost some good friends on planet and some new friends on the _Persephone_, and yeah it sucks that you ended up out here but she has saved more lives then you can possibly imagine. She saved the rest of this platoon for one thing, and that information will make our officers very happy."

Paul remained sullenly quiet. He had heard all this about working for the greater good before used as an excuse to justify murder and death on a small scale. T'Koth's death might go unnoticed by the universe at large but it had surely changed his, and Paul would remember him. The big picture didn't bother him, he wasn't concerned with making a difference he just wanted to get through his life in comfort and wealth along with his friends, and that was a dream now forever ruined. He knew he shouls have appreciated what had happened, and a part of his mind told him to stop being so caught up in himself, but he ignored it. Right now all he really wanted was a case of Scotch and a dark corner.

"Here's something." Toby piped up gaining both Paul and Garibaldi's attention. "If I'm reading this scanner right th Dilgar just launched fighters."

"They coming this way?" the soldier wodered.

"Heading for the gate." Toby continued. "Probably want to intercept us, figure we'd go straight there."

"When instead we go for the asteroid field." Paul added. "Lets hope the _Race_ is where we left her."

"It'll take them a few minutes to realise we aren't coming." Jenny suddenly spoke up behind them, instantly making Pauls blood cool. "When they figure it out they'll start a search but by then we will be under cover in the asteroid field. Then we can try and get clear."

"Yeah I was wondering, any thoughts?" Garibaldi asked.

"We run for the gate and hope they don't have any big guns." Paul shrugged. "Not much else we can do, it's the only way out."

"Jha'dur will know that, she'll have put ships there to cover the escape." Jenny commented. "Most of the fleet has gone but even the handful of ships left in system will turn us to dust."

"Well it's not like we can steal a jump capable Dilgar cruiser." Paul snapped, Garibaldi and Jenny suddenly got far away looks. "Oh no way, don't even think about it."

"We might be able to sneak in with this shuttle." Garibaldi suggested. "We only need to open a jump point, then we could abandon ship."

"Problem is not many Dilgar ships have jump engines, and fighting from hangar to engine will be pretty tough." Jenny cautioned. "Its an option, but lets try for another one."

"Up ahead." Jors said from beside Paul. He hadn't spoken much but that tended to be normal for the big man. "She's still there."

Paul felt a moment of happiness as he caught sight of the _Space Race_, it was in a poor state scorched and burned with weapons fire and with a lot more holes than it was designed with, but it was still the same ship his family had operated for decades and his true home. She had taken a beating but that little ship was their last hope to get home alive.

"How long to get the new regulator hooked up?" Garibaldi asked.

"Minutes." Jors replied. "Just need to swap parts with Jenny's help."

"You got it." She said, ignoring Paul's harsh look to both her and Jors. "The regulator is mainly for keeping us on the move in hyperspace, in normal space we don't need it as much and can burn the engines in stops and starts."

"But it isn't a jump engine, we still need either to use the gate or follow a ship as it makes its own to leave." Paul clarified. "and I can't see the Dilgar being that helpful."

"We just need to get a clear path, maybe convince the guard ships to leave the gate." Toby mentioned. "We need a distraction."

"And a damn good one." Garibaldi added.

Unfortunately right now they were fresh out of ideas. Paul closed the throttle and brought them into dock with the wounded freighter hidden in the asteroid belt, they had at least a few more minutes to figure out a plan before the cats from hell started shooting at them again.

Capital city, Tirrith

It was still dark on the surface where Jha'dur surveyed the damage, the electric lights helped cast light on the scene and the flickering fires triggered by the skirmish also shed a deceptive glow upon the surroundings, a glow that the Warmaster was not feeling.

"Most of the labs were destroyed." A faceless Spectre said beside her. He did not fear giving the bad news to his Warmaster, he knew the anger it created in her would be discharged against the appropriate targets. "None of the Earth technology remained intact."

"And the scientists?"

"Some are dead, some are alive."

Jha'dur nodded, allow leniency with the usual discipline of rank. The Spectres were something outside normal convention, they operated under direct authourity of the Supreme Warmaster and occasionally his subordinates like Jha'dur. They were in essence rankles and exercised whatever power Gar'shan chose to give them. Many didn't like it, but Jha'dur appreciated the spirit it gave them and the highly effective skills they possessed. "Take the live ones to the cells, they can explain to me why they failed to stop the humans or die trying."

The trooper nodded and slunk away leaving the Warmaster alone to contemplate the situation. Another three dozen soldiers had been killed or wounded and the first reports stated the human force was significantly less than expected. None had been killed but there had been blood found indicating some at least were wounded and evacuated by their comrades. It was a pitiful display, and her forces were going to have to work a lot harder in the future.

"Warmaster, you wanted to know when your brother arrived." An aide spoke quietly to her.

"Thank you, if this shambles requires my attention I will be in my quarters."

The aide bowed and stepped aside as she left the scene of the tiny disaster. In terms of physical loss it was an insignificant scratch to the massive Dilgar war machine, but it was a major blow to the pride of the race calling themselves the greatest warriors in the galaxy. They had been badly embarrassed, she had been embarrassed, and it was not a slight she would allow to go unpunished. It wasn't the humans who made her look bad, it was her own officers incompetence and she knew that was where the real fault lay.

Still, she thought, dissecting the humans would also help brighten her week.

Space.

Everything was exactly as he had left it. The air on board the _Space Race_ was staler than it had been but still breathable and would soon seem fresher once the recyclers kicked in, likewise the freezing cold temperatures began to rise to more comfortable levels as the ship began powering up. He pressed the activation controls, feeling the icy metal beneath his fingers and feeling something reassuring in the tactile sensation of once more being in contact with his ship. He found he relished the lack of gravity and the slight pain in his throat that came from breathing the too pure air. He enjoyed the smell of cold steel and engine oil more than he had the scent of flowers and plants down on Tirrith and of course he was eminently pleased to be half a million miles away from the Dilgar army.

"Reactor coming on line." Toby reported. "Five percent capacity and increasing."

The batteries which had been running the low power systems had their duties assumed by main power once again, the lighting brightened and life support wound up to normal levels. "Sensors are back." Toby added. "Going to passive mode."

As the power built Paul was aware they would become more noticeable to the Dilgar patrols, but hopefully they should remain more or less invisible until they powered up engines or used active scanners. "See anything?"

"Lots of fighter patrols." Toby reported. "But not much else."

"Alright then, keep an eye open." He balanced himself and began to float out of the flight deck, movement in zero gravity quickly returning to second nature for him. "I'll check on Jors and the guests."

He left the simple flight deck and travelled the slim corridor down to the passenger area nestled between the four large cargo pods. The accommodation was very basic, no mare than harnesses strapped to the walls but the soldiers were far beyond complaining. It was just good to be touching Earth made walls again. "Everyone alright here?" he asked.

"We're good." Garibaldi answered. "Our wounded are stabilised but we need to get out of here sooner rather than later."

"Working on it." Paul said wearily. "But I don't know how we'll get past the Dilgar to the gate."

"Can we broadcast for help?"

"Sure, but it'd bring the Dilgar down on our backs before anyone else arrived, if they're even listening." Paul sighed. "I'm heading to check on the engines."

"Mind if I follow on?" Garibaldi wondered. "Maybe we can work out a plan?"

"Sure." Paul shrugged. "Can't hurt to talk."

They made their way further back into the ship, exchanging the Spartan living and passenger quarters for the even more bare and simple fuel tanks and reactor systems. Between the reactors and the engines they found Jors and Jenny working in the weightless environment to fix the engine regulator into the _Race's_ systems, its bright metal contrasting with the fire blackened components of the ships original drive mechanisms.

"Looks like you're nearly done." Garibaldi commented.

"More or less." Jenny said. "But it won't do us much good until we agree on an escape plan."

"So far our plans all end the same way, we get our asses blown away." Garibaldi grimaced. "There's no way we can outrun a Dilgar patrol and the gate is too well guarded."

"So we need a distraction." Jenny mentioned. "If we can't fight past we have to sneak past, and for that to happen we must make the Dilgar look the otherway."

"I'm with you so far." The Soldier nodded. "But we've got nothing to act as a distraction."

"Well there is one thing." Jenny said quietly and looked at Paul who refused to meet her gaze. "But you guys aren't going to like it."

"Well what you got?" Garibaldi asked eagerly.

"We have this ship and the stolen shuttle," Jenny stated. "We load up in one of them and remote pilot the other to draw away the Dilgar."

Garibaldi considered it for a few moments. "What makes you think the Dilgar will buy it?"

"There isn't a guarantee, but I'm out of other ideas."

"But it means sacrificing the _Race_." Jors growled. "Hell of a price."

"Maybe not," Jenny spoke quickly with a real trace of emotion in her voice. "We can use the shuttle as bait and ride the _Race_ home."

"No." Paul said bluntly. "That shuttle's faster and more agile, it has the best chance of running the blockade."

"Captain, it means throwing away your ship!" Jors emphasised. "After all we've been through, she got us out safe everytime."

"And now she'll save us again." Paul was amazed he could speak so calmly. "I don't see a choice, and if its between us and this ship getting wasted, well it isn't much of an intellectual challenge is it?"

"Paul," Jenny said softly. "If there's any other way to…"

"You know there isn't." he cut her off. "I'm sure your spy brain has gone over all of this in detail, so lets just get on with it shall we?"

"So you want me to move me guys back to the shuttle?"

Paul considered it for a moment, he was just about to throw away his most cherished possession and in many ways the whole focus of his life. The _Space Race_ looked like junk but as far as he was concerned it was family. "Get them into the shuttle. When the engine is ready we'll make a dash for it, no point sticking around."

Jenny was about to say something but the internal comms system came to life and hid her words.

"Paul," Toby said electronically. "You better get back up here."

"Sweet." Paul uttered with a curse. "What happened?"

"They showed up a minute ago, just came through the gate and headed for the planet."

"What did?" Garibaldi looked around at the display not recognizing anything.

"Dilgar warships." Toby confirmed. "Fifteen of them, pretty big too, mix of cruisers and destroyers."

"Oh well that's just perfect." Garibaldi almost laughed in despair. "Not just fighters, now full on warships!"

"How many are near the gate?" Jenny asked calmly.

"Two destroyers. The rest look like they're getting into a search formation."

"Probably figured we're hid in the asteroids." Paul decided. "Well that settles it, we're going to be found out no matter what, I say we at least try to run."

"Yeah, I'll agree with that." Garibaldi added wearily. "We came this far on pure luck, might not have worn off yet."

"Go get your people ready." Paul instructed. "Toby, download the ships log and get it to the Dilgar shuttle, we'll be leaving."

"If that's the plan boss." He nodded, then headed off the flight deck leaving Paul and Jenny alone.

"You know this wasn't my wish." She said.

"You keep telling me that but it still happened didn't it?" Paul said plainly. "No cargo, no ship, no T'Koth. There isn't much left to lose."

She came and sat in the co pilots chair beside him, her hair and clothes were filthy after the escape and lose strands floated from her head in the slight breeze from the air recyclers. She still had a strong attractiveness to her features behind the dust but Paul couldn't see that anymore, he just saw someone he had been badly let down by.

"I wanted to tell you something."

"That you did all this for Earth, for the greater good?"

"No, just that I'm sorry."

She had said it before, but this time there was such a sincerity that Paul simply couldn't ignore her.

"I'm sorry for it all, and we should have left Abbai space sooner but we didn't and its my fault."

"None of this should have happened to us." Paul said flatly. "We're not up to this."

"Of course you are!" Jenny suddenly exclaimed. "You met the challenge magnificently, you led us out of hell and kept us going! How can you say you weren't up to it?"

"Because I didn't get us all out did I?" Paul snapped. "T'Koth is still down there. Hell we might all be joining him within the hour"

"You couldn't have prevented that, I'm to blame for his death."

"You know that's what I told myself, that all this was you'r fault." Paul looked out the window at the distant blue and green world beyond. "I even believed it for a while, but it isn't your fault."

"But I…"

he raised his hand to stop her. "It wasn't your fault, if it wasn't for you we'd all be dead or stranded." He leaned back in the pilots chair. "There's only one person to blame and that's me, as Captain I could have put my foot down an brought us home any time before this, but I got greedy and took that last job."

"You saved a lot of Abbai refugees." Jenny told him. "That's something."

"And I charged them for the priviledge." He answered. "I'm no hero or saint, you know I always thought you were the conscience on this ship. Well, you and Toby but he gets carried away."

Jenny didn't answer, she let him continue.

"I don't hate you, it was just easier to hate you for getting us into this mess than it was for me to accept responsibility myself." Paul sighed. "If anyone deserves to be hated it's me."

"That's not true." She spoke. "Without you in charge we'd have come apart a long time ago."

Paul turned to look at the former crew member, staring at her in great seriousness. "Tell me one thing, did you enjoy being on this ship?"

She smiled. "It was honestly the best time of my life, couple of times I even thought about resigning from Earth force and signing up full time."

"Really? You aren't just saying that?"

"Really." She held the smile, craking the caked on dust around her cheeks. "You can't guess what it meant to me to be accepted into this family."

It was a family, one that endured a lot of problems and grief but was still united now more than ever. It wept for its loss but still had to protect its living members, and that was Pauls job.

"You are one of us." He held her arm. "Don't be sad about this, with our profits we'll get a new ship."

"But it won't be the _Race_." She said sadly.

"Nothing else could be." Paul agreed. "And nothing could try to be, but its just metal and wires. The thing that made it special is us, and we'll still be around."

She looked down at the floor. "When I get back they'll probably put me on a new mission. With the Dilgar threat growing I'm going to need to put all my efforts into keeping Earth safe."

"I know." He answered. "But when this crisis is over there always be a seat for you on my ship, whatever that ends up being."

She nodded, beginning to gather tears. "Thanks Paul."

"Now come on, you know the _Race_ can't be flown by remote control. We'll set up some waypoints in the auto pilot and let it run off that."

"Yeah, okay." She perked up. "Then we can finally go home."

"Make sure the Gropos get on their ship, I'll program in the coordinates and see you there."

He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, then let her go and make the arrangements. He didn't move for almost a full minute, breathng in his ships air and just opening up his mind trying to feel something comforting from the metal around him. He'd grown up in this old tramp freighter, his dad had flown it for years and raised him in this very cockpit from child hood to being an adult. Its walls were alive with memories, but those memories were not unique to this vessel and when it ceased to exist they would still live on elsewhere in those who experienced them.

With a sigh he set up the auto pilot and then headed for the shuttle deck.

"Your people safe?" Jenny asked.

"Every one of them." Garibaldi answered, they were hanging onto the hand rails of the shuttle bay beside the dark green Dilgar ship. "It's a little cramped but it's a way home so we aren't bothered."

The door opened into the bay and Paul slid through on a guide rope. "We ready?" he asked.

"Jors is finishing pre-flight now." Jenny smiled at him. "Our guests are all loaded up along with all our data and logs."

"We'll be good to go as soon as we get on board." Garibaldi added.

"Auto pilot is ready, I'll activate it from the shuttle deck console on a timer, then we can scram."

"I figure we glide unpowered towards the gate until the Dilgar take the bait." Jenny explained. "Then when they go for the _Race_ we burn like a bat out of hell and try to sneak through before they turn around and stop us."

"Alright then," Paul agreed. "Get on board and lets see what happens."

Garibaldi stepped up and glided into position tying himself to a seat restraint. The shuttle was designed with passengers in mind but not quite so many and six of the troops had been forced to strap themselves to wall hangings, hand rails and seat backs. For those people it would be a bumpy ride.

"The ship is hyperspace certified." Jenny said as she mounted the stairs. "We can make Altair in a few days, we have enough food and air to last that long."

"Makes a change." Paul grimaced. "If we had those supplies at Ssumssha we'd have avoided all this." He paused for a minute. "But then we wouldn't have been able to pick up these troops. I guess it all happens for a reason."

"We did good." Jenny assured him. "It was a terrible price, but we did the right thing."

"We did." Paul nodded solemnly. "Make sure what we did here saves lives."

With sudden speed he pushed Jenny back from the top step and into the shuttle, a look of total surprise on her face. Then he quickly pressed the external door controls and sealed it behind her. She ran up to it and saw Paul backing away down the stairs and heading off the deck.

"Jors!" she yelled. "Jors, get this damn door open!"

"I'm trying! I've lost the control, damn things all in Dilgar!"

She watched helpless as Paul left the hangar and sealed the internal airlock. "Jors!"

"Found it!" he said triumphantly, but before he could press it a warning light sounded. "Crap, he depressurised the bay!" to underline his words the armoured doors of the shuttle deck slid open showing space beyond.

"What was that?" Garibaldi asked in utter confusion. "What just happened?"

"It was Paul." Jenny informed him quietly. "He left us."

Paul Calendar took up the pilot seat on the _Space Race_ flight deck and noted how it fitted his form perfectly. It was a simple effect of him being sat in that chair for uncounted years and usually he barely noticed, but now he was hooked on every tiny detail of the ship and its past. He noticed their was an incoming transmission on the closed circuit and knew where it was from.

"Go ahead shuttle deck."

"What the hell are you doing!" the strong voice of Jors asked.

"Getting us out of this mess like I should have done in the first place." Paul answered "Captain's job to get his crew home in one piece."

"And the Captain should be with them!" Toby added. "Get back here quick before it's too late."

"Can't do that." Paul said calmly. "The auto pilot on this bucket won't give the Dilgar any challenge, they'll blow it away long before the shuttle can reach the gate. But if one of us is flying it then it might give us more time."

"So I should be flying it!" Jors demanded.

"You're the best pilot, you should be on the shuttle getting them all home. This is my ship, if anyone goes down with it it'll be her Captain."

"Paul, you hear me?" Jenny had reached the microphone. "Don't do this, there are other ways!"

"You know there aren't." he answered gently. "You have to get home now, burn you engines when we start moving and coast for the gate until the way is clear."

"T'Koth wasn't your fault, none of this was!" she pleaded. "Come back, come with us!"

"That's not the way these things work." He answered. "You're a good person Jenny, you're one of the family and you always will be. Take care of yourself and the rest of the guys, now get moving."

He ended the transmission and activated his ships engines, an act which would spike Dilgar sensors across the system. For a few moments the shuttle remained silent and then much to his relief powered up and left the hangar, burning its engines under the cover of the freighters power signature and then going cold to coast for the gate. Satisfied with the shuttle's progress Paul ignited the engines of his freighter once more and headed for the gate and the Dilgar guard ships.

Dilgar warship _Dominator_

Warmaster Sha'dur felt rage boiling away inside him as he spoke with his sister, how Jha'dur kept such a calm expression as she listed the catalogue of errors made by her subordinates he would never understand. He knew nothing of humans but automatically detested them as inferior, as he did all races who weren't prime Dilgar. After hearing this new tale though he would gladly burn their miserable homeworld himself if given the chance.

"It was actually a rather useful exercise." Jha'dur concluded on the screen.

"Useful?" he frowned. "Sounded like a disaster."

"It highlighted how unprepared we are." Jha'dur said. "Fighting the forces of the League is one thing, but these humans actually knew what they were doing. The fault for this defeat is not theirs, its ours. The fought to the best of their training while my forces were fighting well below the standards I expect. I have taken measures to correct this problem."

He didn't need to ask what those measures would involve. He could hardly remember a time when his sister hadn't resorted to the base emotion of terror to get her message across that failure would not be tolerated. She was a more careful Warmaster than most, and while the punishments she inflicted on failures were grossly more harsh than the other leaders who opted for simple death, Jha'dur also gave rewards for those who fought well and was constantly encouraging and nurturing her subordinates. It was a stark contrast but one which had made Jha'durs forces the elite of her race.

"I've deployed my ships in a net, we'll sweep the asteroid belt and find your runaways."

"You know I prefer live prisoners." She said sternly. "Get me something to play with."

"Consider it a gift." He smiled, explosing his white teeth. "And then we can get this war moving again."

He was interrupted by a report. "Warmaster, energy spike on sensors, looks like a ship."

"Classify?" he asked.

"Freighter, unknown type." He punched up an image of a blocky and dull coloured vessel. "Minimal threat to us."

"Do you recognise it sister?" he sent the information via data link to the planet.

"Not by sight," Jha'dur replied. "But the simple design would suggest a human vessel."

"Then that is our target, its eading for the gate." Sha'dur felt the thrill of the chase building inside. "If you'll excuse me Sister, I will attend to this."

"Remember prisoners." She insisted. "Good luck."

He nodded and ended the message. "Helm, set intercept course and deploy fighters." Sha'dur ordered with relish. "I'd quite like to meet these creatures who seem to be running rings around us. All ahead flank."

_Space Race_

Paul's sensors warned him of Dilgar ships moving his way, a unit of fighters was closing with larger warships following. The _Race_ was a fast ship, maybe fast enough to outrun some of the bigger warships but the Dilgar Frigates would be a problem. Still, all he needed to do was buy some time and try and clear the jump gate, so he drove his engines up to full power and aimed for the two ships guarding the distant scoffolding marking his colleagues way home. He would reach there before the Dlgar warships, but probably not the fighters, hopefully they wouldn't slow him down enough to make a difference.

In the crowded shuttle floating far behind the atmosphere was quietly expectant.

"Dilgar are going for him." Toby said. "But not the ones from the gate."

"The guard ships are still there?" Garibaldi asked.

"They are."

"They'll have orders not to move." Jenny stated. "With Jha'dur in charge they'll stay there until the sun dies."

"I don't like the idea of flying between them." Jors grimaced. "But if it comes to it I can try."

"Lets hold course for now, stick to the plan." Jenny stated. "And hope they aren't as well drilled as they think they are."

The first dart fighter pulled into range and fired on the _Space Race_, its particle bolts punching neat holes in the already mangled engine block at the rear of the ship. Paul had no way to fight back, his ships defensive guns needed a crew member to fire them and even if they did work automatically he was marshalling all power into the engine systems. More fighter bolts tore into the ship, puncturing the cargo bays but causing no real damage and not slowing down Paul's run for the gate. The two Dilgar destroyers standing guard began to lock on to him with heavy weapons but did not open fire or move, apparently content to let the fighters take him down. That was something Paul had to fix to give his comrades a chance to escape.

Sparks jumped from the empty co pilot seat giving him a start, but apart from the scare the effects on the ship were negligible. The _Space Race_ had long ago lost any semblence of control surfaces or magnetic thrust vectoring during its harsh final weeks, the ship was steered by brute force and altering reactor feeds from 'overload' to 'critical' and back again. The Dilgar fighters were dealing damage but unless they hit something truly critical they were just ventilating the engine room. He reflected that it wasn't the ending he had expected for the venerable freighter, he'd imagined the old ship soldiering on until she simply dissolved into rust and scrap ten thousand years from now. It was a silly thought he had harboured since childhood but it was rather comforting. The reality would obviously be different, but the ship would had least gain some meaning in its last moments.

_Dominator_

"Our fighters are not doing enough damage Warmaster." Captain Evenil reported. "The ship is not slowing."

Sha'dur sighed heavily. "What do these humans build ships from? Damn savages."

"It'll be through the gate in a few minutes, the guard ships are requesting permission to engage."

The Warmaster shook his head. "We can't hit it with heavy weapons, can't risk destroying it when we have orders to take prisoners."

"If we do nothing it will just fly between the destroyers and escape sir."

"So we need to encourage it away from the gate." Sha'dur considered. "Order the guard ships to intercept the vessel and drive it towards the planet, use their secondary pulsar weapons to disable it, they will do less damage than a heavy cannon but more than the fighters."

"Sending the orders."

As the freighter closed on the gate the two destroyers began to move, setting course to meet the ship and force it further into the system and away from safety. The stubborn ship held its course for a while longer, but a rapid volley of energy weapon fire from the destroyer made it break off. He smiled in triumph as the little ship followed his plan perfectly, the fighters and destroyers chasing it away and firing past it. Leaving the gate unguarded was a risk, but only a slight one because there was no way the Earth ship could double back past his force.

"Have the destroyers herd the ship this way, we will catch it between them and us and bring Jha'dur something to work on."

His fleet expertly arced around and formed into a wide group to catch the fleeing human ship in their grasp. The vessel was blundering straight towards them and soon would find its escape blocked. Sha'dur would surely succeed where the forces on planet had failed.

Dilgar Shuttle

"He did it, the Captain actually got them to follow him!" Toby gaped.

"I didn't doubt it for a moment." Jenny said quietly. "Lets take the chance he's paying for, full power to the engines and get us clear."

Jors tapped the controls and brought the shuttles systems online, probably alerting the Dilgar fleet to their presence and gaining many angry stares.

"Okay folks, keep your self strapped in this is going to be rough." Jenny warned the soldiers in the passenger compartment. "The way is clear but I doubt they'll just let us stroll out, if you were religious now would be a good time to get us a bit of divine intervention."

The ship kicked forward, forcing the crew and passengers back into their seats with the sudden acceleration. Jors wasn't wasting any time with subtlety, it was going to be a simple dash for the gate and freedom. A number of warning systems lit up, while not readable Jenny guessed they were telling the crew the ship was being scanned by active sensors. She didn't know how powerful the Dilgar sensors were or if they could distinguish human life signs from Dilgar ones, but it didn't a genius to figure out they had been duped.

"Dilgar fighters are breaking this way, they're trying to hail us." Toby warned.

"No reply, hold your course." Jenny stated, they wouldn't be able to understand the Dilgar language anyway.

"They're locking weapons." Toby announced. "I think they're gonna shoot!"

Jenny activated the shuttles forward gun, no point trying to hide now. She led the first fighter and then engaged, particle bolts eating through the surprised pilots craft and destroying it before he could even draw breath to panic. His wingmates broke off instantly trusting their training to get them out of trouble. The shuttles cannon was able to track one of the fighters, spitting bolts as it traversed but the Thorun's pilot knew his stuff and evaded the incoming fire.

"They're on our tail!" Toby reported. "Locking on!"

"Evasive action Jors!" Jenny yelled, swinging the shuttles only gun to point aft. "One hit and we're dead!"

Two remaining fighters tracked them, they sent a few rounds past the shuttle in the hope of scaring it into halting but here the Dilgar reputation for cruelty worked against them. No rational being would surrender willingly to the Dilgar, so instead they would have to try and bring down the shuttles engines and tow their prize home. There was one glaring problem, they had to aim just for the engines which meant lining up at close range and firing a precise shot. Usually the fighters would have made a slashing attack and torn the shuttle to shreds, but the Warmaster had been very specific about wanting the occupants alive. The Thoruns took their time to line up a shot, which gave Jenny enough time to start firing.

The dart fighters dodged the incoming fire, but their evasive action meant they couldn't take their shot and had to hold fighter, deeply frustrating the battle hungry pilots. Jors kept the ship weaving further hindering their efforts to halt the escaping ship. To their credit the Dilgar pilots followed the shuttle like a tail, never straying more than a few degrees of course but at the same time not having the necessary opportunity to slow down the fleeing vessel.

"Coming up on the gate." Toby continued his running commentary from the sensor station. "The Dilgar warships are still chasing Paul."

Jenny couldn't quite place her feelings on that matter, she was assaulted by emotions varying from relief at being able to escape to pure despair at the notion of her friend meeting his end at the hands of the Dilgar. She dearly wanted to do something, she had such a vast wealth of skills and abilities and an absolute willingness to use them, but seated here in the shuttle she was helpless to do anything but watch. The _Space Race_ fled further away under heavy fire doing its final duty so she and her team could do theirs.

"Jenny?" she suddenly became aware someone was calling her. "The Jumpgate sequence?"

"Right." She acknowledged Jors' comment. The space outside turned and corkscrewed as Jors piloted the vessel wildly, occasional shots flaming past from the fighters on their six. All the while the constant and growing shape of the Tirrith jump gate beckoned the craft forward. "Sending the activation code."

Every jump gate needed a signal transmited to its automated control to activate the vortex. Usually it was just a simple narrow band comms channel with no real message to it, just an indication a ship was ready to make transit. Free jump gates like the one here operated on those principles, while the more secure gates like the one in the Sol system required a very specific and constantly changing code to activate. Jenny sent the signal, and was not terribly surprised when the gate failed to activate.

"What happened?" Toby said with a hint of panic.

"The Dilgar changed the gate codes." Jenny began punching up what she hoped was the shuttles communication logs. "Without the right code it won't open."

"So whats the code?" he demanded.

"I dunno, I'm looking through this ships logs to see if it has them."

"You don't know!" Toby almost screamed. "What if it's not there!"

"Then we've got a long flight home." She retorted. "Besides this is a diplomatic shuttle, it'll have all the codes. Probably."

The Dilgar fire was getting closer now, the pilots increasingly annoyed by their inability to hit the ship with a precision strike were getting more reckless and letting discipline slip. If the fight went on much longer they would probably just blow them to pieces and call it an accident. Jors was utterly focused on the escape route and wasn't slowing down. If the gate wasn't open in a few seconds they'd fly straight through the structure and have to come back around, something the chasing Thoruns would not allow.

"Jenny, the code." Toby said.

"I think I've found it."

"You think you have?"

"Well we'll know in a minute." She entered the code. "Here it comes."

For a moment nothing happened, then the gate flashed into life and began charging the vortex. The shuttle was virtual in the mouth of the structure when the code was accepted.

"What happens if we're too close?" Toby suddenly thought. "Too close to the opening vortex?"

"Then we get totally wasted." Jors grunted. "Hold on to your hats."

The gate reached full charge and punched open a yellow vortex, thankfully the shuttle was far enough away not to be affected by backwash. Merely a second after it opened the shuttle raced through and Jenny was already shorting out the gate controls through her link to shut it down prematurely. The burned into hyperspace and she transmitted the override bringing the vortex down on the two pursuing Thorons and wiping them from existence.

"That's it!" Toby yelled in Joy "We're outta there!"

There were roars and cheers from the soldiers behind them and Jors exhaled a long breath of relief. "Locked onto the Atlair beacon, heading back to Earth Alliance space."

"Nice flying budy!" Garibaldi shouted. "That's worth a round when we get home!"

Jenny slumped back and closed her eyes, they were safe but she couldn't shake her mind away from the price. Without Paul Calendar's selfless actions none of them would be here, and the vital story of the _Persephone's_ final hour would be lost to her people. The shuttle turned for home, but there would always be a little something of herself left behind on Tirrith.

"Good bye." She whispered, clutching the data crystals in her pocket. She would make it all worthwhile.

_Space Race_

The new regulator finally blew, a shot from a Dilgar destroyer slicing through the engine bay and severing the ship drive system from its reactor. Raw plasma jetted out of the broken pipes and melted clear through the hull before the emergency systems could react. The strained engines finally spluttered out, glowing red from pure heat for a while longer before dimming and becoming as dark as the void around them.

"Nuts." Paul remarked as the ship coasted. His sensors warned him of Dilgar destroyers drawing up along side and fighters preparing to grapple the freighter. "Computer, increase reactor flow."

"Warning." The female voice spoke. "Safety systems compromised."

"Command override, increase flow."

Without any way to discharge the energy the reactor would go critical and exploded like a fusion bomb, and if he was lucky it'd take the two Dilgar ships down with him. He could settle back, the shuttle had made it through the gate and would be beyond the abilities of the Dilgar to chase by now, his people, his family, would be safe. As far as he was concerned he'd done his job as Captain and achieved some measure of redemption for not getting them out of this sooner. He had to take that responsibility, and responsibility for T'Koth's death.

"Human vessel." A voice said mechanically, likely speaking through a translator. "Prepare to be boarded."

"Like hell." Paul muttered, the reactor display nudging into the red on his dials. "You want my ship? You'll have to pick it up one atom at a time when I'm done."

The _Space Race_ was his home and he couldn't surrender it anymore than he could give away an arm or a leg. It was fitting and appropriate that his final moments would also be the last moments of the ship. It kind of felt right. The Dilgar ships get closer and tried to latch on to the freighter, seemingly oblivious to the building energy.

"Boy are you guys in for a surprise."

They were, but even Paul couldn't have predicted exactly how big a surprise it would be. His sensors warned of jump points opening nearby, he didn't pay them much heed and considered them Dilgar reinforcements until a wide band transmission flooded all channels.

"This is Vice Admiral Anne Thornhill of the Earth Alliance Cruiser _Lexington_, you will stand down and back off right the hell now!"

Dilgar warship _Dominator_

Sha'dur had to blink three times just to confirm what he was seeing. "What?"

"Earth ships Warmaster!" Captain Evenil reported frantically. "Five cruisers, they are demanding we retire!"

"Absolutely unbelievable!" he scoffed. "Who do they think they are? Open a channel."

She quickly worked the controls, while she prepared Sha'dur took a good look at the new arrivals, unappealing grey and blue slabs of metal with a compartmentalized arrangement and woefully primitive systems. His executive officer nodded to tell him the channel was ready.

"Earth fleet, this is Warmaster Sha'dur of the Dilgar. This is our space and you are violating it. Leave immediately or be destroyed."

"Warmaster," the human female replied. "We are here to retrieve one of our ships, the one your ships are… rescuing." She said curtly. "Once we have it we will leave and never come back."

"The ship is harbouring fugitives and they will be taken away for Dilgar justice. We will not hand them over."

"Earth Force will not lt its citizens be imprisoned and subjected to Dilgar 'justice' when they have committed no crime." The Admiral stated. "We don't want a fight, but we will defend our people."

It was the perfect answer, Sha'dur grinned widely and unceremoniously ended the transmission. "Battle formation, fast ships on the flank and capital cruisers in the middle. We take them fast and head on."

"Yes Warmaster, the fleet is responding." Evenil said. "Earth ships powering weapons."

A sudden transmission from the planet sounded on their speakers. "Don't you dare!" an angry women snapped.

Sha'dur hid a flash of anger. "Sister, leave this to me."

"You will not fire on the Earth ships. Stand down and let them leave."

"We outnumber them three to one!"

"And the last time we faced one of these ships it out fought us five to one!" Jha'dur informed him. "We are not ready to fight these ships. Stand down."

"But the prisoners? The data, they'll know what we did!" Sha'dur said. "Let me destroy them!"

"No, remember your actions at Ssumshha? Your eagerness for battle caused hundreds of needless deaths. You must learn to be patient d to walk away from battles you cannot win." Jha'dur spoke calmly. "Let them go, they won't do anything about the loss of the other ship and without my strike fleet for support this will end badly. We gain nothing by fighting but lose much, and maybe even provoke war."

Sha'dur felt a tiny trickle of blood run down his chin, gradually becoming aware he was biting through his lip in frustration. The rest of the crew watched him in complete silence poised to go into battle or stand down depending on his word. Considering the options he finally spoke.

"Stand down." He stated with a grunt. "Pull back beyond weapons range and let them go."

"Warmaster?" Evenil wondered for confirmation.

"Those are the orders. Let them go." He said with pure venom.

Paul cycled down the reactor to safe levels as the Dilgar ships retreated and he was surrounded by Earth vessels. Star furies gathered around and latched grappling wires to the crippled _Space Race_ and began dragging it up behing the magnificent sight of an Earth force cruiser. The emotions Paul felt were barely expressible in words, it was a minor miracle, in fact it was a total miracle and he would never forget just how close he had come to death.

The warship opened a jump point and along with the rest of the fleet the _Space Race_ left Tirrith and the Dilgar behind.

"We aren't ready." Jha'dur said to her brother high in orbit. "We fought them before and suffered a major defeat on ground and in space. We simply do not know how to beat these humans."

"We are Dilgar, none should be able to resist us." He answered.

"You are right." She agreed. "And yet these humans do. One day there will be war between our two races, as there will be war with the Narn and the Centauri after we establish a new homeworld. We will not fight that war until we are ready."

"I thought we were ready?"

"Not yet, but now I know where our weaknesses lie, where our skill end and over confidence begins." The female Warmaster smiled thinly. "Take these events for what they are, a lesson to be learned from and an example of what our forces need to turn them into a true unstoppable tide."

"Your fleet will be here soon." He said. "And you're new flagship."

"Then all the tools are in place." Jha'dur nodded. "And we can start the lesson. And the means by which we test our new tactics will be the Brakiri. Our forces gather Brother, and by the time we face Earth ships again we will be a different people, and we will not be backing down from anyone."

Sha'dur nodded, his pride already feeling less wounded. His sister had a way of learning from events and radically changing tactics to exploit new strengths. The humans may have achieved their goals today, but the final victory would belong to the Dilgar and it would leave the League nothing but an empty smoking shell. In two weeks it would all go to hell.

Hyperspace, _EAS Lexington_

Jenny took amoment to stretch in the large hangar aboard the warship. She had barely believed her eyes when she had seen the task force hanging by the Tirrith beacon scanning for distress signals from their missing sister ship the _Persephone_. She had acted quickly and told them about the _Space Race_ and was ready to beg the fleet commander to go and rescue Paul, but happily the Admiral had only needed to know that an Earth citizen was in danger. With the freighter rescued and Tirrith behind them she could finally relax. She noticed a slender fair haired woman enter the bay and talk to a deck handed who pointed Jenny's way. She pushed herself forward in the zero gravity to meet her.

"I'm Admiral Thornhill, 9th Squadron." The middle aged lady said warmly.

"Commander Jenny Sakai, Earth Force Intelligence." She gave her full title. "I can't thank you enough."

"I'm glad we found you." Thornhill replied. "We had orders direct from General Denisov to do a fly by and look for any signals that our ship or a life pod might still be in the area. We weren't supposed to leave hyperspace except in special circumstances, but I figure this counts."

Jenny took a handful of data crystals from her pocket, the culmination of her mission and adventure. "We recovered these from the _Persephone's_ flight data recorder. It's the full story of her battle."

Thornhill's eyes grew wide. "How did you get them?"

"Very long story Admiral, I'll put it in my report." She handed them to the flag officer. "I saw the whole thing, I don't know what the Dilgar said but that ship fought like hell to protect a refugee fleet. She wasn't lost to an accident or a mistake, she died well and she did the right thing right to the end."

Thornhill clutched the crystas like they meant the world to her. "Thank you, the _Persephone_ was one of mine and I knew Captain DeVierre wouldn't make that sort of mistake. Sounds just like him to go wading in like that." she breathed in to restrain the emotion she was feeling. "It will mean a lot to the fleet to know their brothers and sisters went out fighting."

"I'm glad I could do this Admiral." She nodded respectfully and the fleet commander headed away to make copies and review the records.

"Getting on with the top brass now eh?" an amused voice asked.

"I just got sick and tired hanging around with you smelly grunts." She smiled. "How are you're guys Freddy?"

"Well they took Tucker and the wounded up to the medlab, rest of us got given these amazing packs of paste." Garibaldi waved a MRE at Jenny. "I'm tempted to try those Dilgar rations from the shuttle."

Jenny grimaced at the thought. "My sisters cat eats stuff flike that. Guess that kinda makes sense."

"Well, might be worth a try." He chuckled. "You did good back there you know."

"Maybe." She sighed. "But it was still a huge mistake."

"Well the important thing is we're stood here on our way home." Garibaldi smiled. "I mean I've got a ton of paperwork and the Captain is gonna want a full debrief lasting days… but we made it, and everything else is just prologue."

"Thanks Freddy." She smiled. "You're a good guy, you know that?"

"You helped me keep my promise." He said. "And for that you got a friend for life."

She remembered his promise, that he'd be back with his family for Christmas and smiled widely. "Have a good Christmas." She wished. "Must be nearly that time."

"Time enough to get home." He nodded. "I better go check on the guys and girls, take care huh? See you for paste and drinks in the mess."

"I'll be along." She said and gave the big man a hug, then let him go.

She stayed for a while in the hangar and looked at the shuttle. The _Space Race_ had been contacted and Paul was both safe and supremely happy with the arrival of the Earth ships. They would take him under tow to the first neutral gate then bring him on board the _Lexington_ and tow the _Race_ home. He was adamant the ship join them on the journey despite it being almost a wreck. She smiled at the idea and wouldn't have it any other way. It had been a hell of a first assignment, and she had instructions to head back for Earth for a full debrief but she guessed that her adventures with the _Space Race_ and its crew wouldn't be ending today. And with that thought she turned into the corridor and went to take a very well earned rest.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 25

Gorash System, Centauri Republic.

It was a sullen mood which greater Londo Mollari as his family flagship entered the harsh system. The system had been ordered evacuated and left undefended by Centauri forces by Imperial decree and it was expected that the Narn would move in and claim the empty system, just one more piece of the Republic frittered away for no gain. Narn vessels had been reported at the edge of the system but no confirmation had been officially made, it was however enough to convince the miners and researchers to quickly vacate.

"This is no way to run the Centauri Republic." Londo noted Urza's voice beside him. The man could sneak up on a Nakaleen feeder and live to tell the tale. They both watched out of the ships windows as freighters transitted past to the local jump gate.

"We will correct this situation my friend." Londo resolved. "And we will do it in a way that the Emperor saves face."

"You have a plan?" a thin smile flickered onto Urza's lips.

"It's very simple. All we have to do is start a fight with the Narns." Londo shrugged. "There can be no easier task in the galaxy!"

"Very true." Urza chuckled. "So what do you suggest?"

"All we need to do is find them, I can handle the rest."

Urza nodded in agreement and resumed his vigil as the planet of Gorash itself hove into view. "Not much to fight over is it?"

"No, not really." Londo agreed. "But it isn't the planet that matters."

"It's the symbol." Urza continued. "The fact that the Narns of all races would have this world."

"It isn't the fact we are keeping it, it is the fact that the Narn are being denied it."

"I hope this works my friend, if it doesn't our heads will decorate the royal gardens."

"The Emperor has not specifically said he wants the Narn to take this world, he has not gifted it to them but will acknowledge it if they decide to try and seize it. But if they attack us as we retreat, and we fight to defend ourselves the people of the Republic will be behind us and Turhan could never cede this world the the Narn. It is a perfect plan." Londo grinned.

"Unless of course the Narn win, then they get the planet and manage to kill us too." Urza pointed out. "Still, it sounds like an entertaining way to spend my afternoon."

"Agreed." Londo couldn't help but laugh. "Ahh, whatever happens this will be a great day for our houses, death or glory!"

"Death or glory!" Urza repeated with a cheer. "Come on, let's go find some Narn to antagonize!"

Half an hour later a pair or Centauri fighters rushed from the hangar deck and looped around the defensive fleets flying far too close to the stationary cruisers. The nimble fighters rolled past a _Primus_ battlecruiser drawing angry looks from its officers and scorn for the reckless young pilots, not that Londo or Urza actually cared. They were alive in the moment, their whole worlds contained in the few square feet of cockpit forming a thin bubble between them and the bleak emptiness beyond. As far as they were concerned their destiny was grasped firmly in their young hands which they alone had the right to master. No Narn could stop them, no Centauri, not even the Emperor himself could affect them now, in their closed universe of glass, metal and engines they were God, and it felt incredible.

"Lets head out to the edge of our sentry posts." Urza suggested. "If a Narn fleet has already arrived that is where it will be hiding."

"Lead the way my friend." Londo said joyfully, glad to be taking part in a mission which would restore some of the old glory of the Republic, a gentle echo of the might they once exercised. Many Centauri looked fondly on the old days, but for Londo it had become an obsession and a calling to return to history. He believed vehemently that fortune had turned its back on his people and through their own weakness and pettyness thay had fallen into mediocrity. The Centauri were born to rule and had forsaken their birthright, but that right was still available for the taking if only the Lion of the Galaxy would stretch forward one more time.

The twin fighters left the safety of the Centauri fleet and began the journey into the long night. The standard Centauri Sentri fighter was designed for excessive speed and agility which suited the usual tactics of its pilots well. A Centauri airwing specialized in lightning attacks, streaking in and slicing through enemy fighter formations or picking off critical starship systems. Duelling with a Sentri was usually a losing proposition for virtually any opponent and they were rightly respected throughout the League. Unfortnately they had their price, the speed was bought with lighter armour meaning a Sentri tended to fly apart quickly if it took a solid hit, it was hoped its agility could avoid such an instance but the average pilot was well aware that even a glancing hit would finish him off. None of the pilots liked to admit it but the days of their superiority might be on the wane, the latest Dilgar heavy fighters were a new breed of war machine with the agility of their Sentri's but far superior weapons and protection, and to make matters worse the Humans were fielding craft just as impressive. All they needed was the Narn to build heavy weight fighters too and things suddenly wouldn't be so friendly for the venerable Centauri fighter commands.

"We're passing the beacons." Urza awakened Londo from his thoughts. "Moving into blind space."

The two fighters passed beyond effective sensor range of the fleet, out here they had only each other to rely on. Rapidly the two young officers grew quiet and began to keep a more concerted watch on their sensor displays lest any surprises jump out from the gloom and strike them. Londo was no coward but he had never seen a Narn before, much less engaged one in battle and out here the youthful bravado was being frozen by the bleakness of deep space.

"When we find the Narn, perform a close flyby and then run for our lines." Urza said quietly. "Knowing the Narn they will give chase and be seen as attacking our forces."

"Which will be all the excuse our house forces will need to begin the battle." Londo agreed. "There is just one thing on my mind."

"Yes my friend?"

"What if they shoot us down before we escape back to our fleets?"

Urza thought for a moment. "Then we will both look very stupid."

Londo nodded to himself, if the Narns prevailed here the entire Republic would look stupid. It was his job to make sure that did not happen.

Geneva, Earth.

EIA Headquarters.

It was an odd sensation to enter the tall and rather plain looking building set within the EarthGov complex beside Lake Geneva. The air was cold and despite it being dinner time sparkling frost still clung to the ground and breath hazed in the air before her. Jenny stepped through the glass doors and was hit by a wave of heating within the building, a cloying and dry atmosphere compared to outside. She loosened her coat and headed to the reception desk striding over a marble floor with the EIA crest emblazoned on it, the eagle's eye watching her every move.

"Good afternoon miss." A friendly looking receptionist greeted her. "Can I help you?"

"Jenny Sakai." She gave her name. "I have a brefing to attend."

The receptionist entered her details and at once the screen confirmed her as a priority guest. "You are booked in with the Director himself, go through right away." She smiled.

Jenny stepped through the sensor barriers, plain looking frames which scanned her for weapons or chemical agents under the gaze of a small group of burly looking suited men. She noted with her observational training that there were more guards than usual and a number of men loitering around corners were trying to conceal body armour and sub machine guns. Clearly Earth was on a higher state of alert than it was when she left and supposed it was a response to the Dilgar situation. The receptionist could be heard informing somebody up the chain of command that Jenny had arrived, and if the Director had cleared his schedule to see her she guessed something must really be getting serious.

Minutes later she had arrived on the fifth floor and was greeted by a short man in a poor fitting suit. "Jenny Sakai?" he asked. She nodded and he smiled, releasing some nerves. "My name's Morgan Clark, if you'll follow me I'll escort you to the briefing."

She tailed the man, guessing by his slightly nervous disposition that the man had never seen fieldwork and was somewhat intimidated by her, perhaps because she was a field agent or just maybe because she was female. He acted confident but she could tell he was confused and conflicted. "So you just got back from the field?" he piped up by way of conversation.

"That's right." She answered. "A year long mission in the League." The corridor was painted in beige tones with photographs of the various directors and deputies of the EIA throughout the years nailed along the wall.

"Getting info on the Dilgar right?"

Jenny continued walking without breaking pace or looking at him. "Now you know I can't tell you that."

"It's fine, I'm the one who handles reports from the Dilgar front." He grinned. "I put it into a format for the top brass to read, so it all comes to me in the end."

"I'm sure it will." Jenny nodded. "But I've no comment to make and you should talk about your job less." She spoke with a slight scorn, the man seemed to be rather eager to impress her.

"Right, I get it. Top secret huh?" he smiled. "So here we are." They arrived at a set of doors and he activated the intercom. "Jenny Sakai s here sir."

"Send her through." The message returned. Jenny had never met the director before and was apprehensive though her training was more than enough to mask those emotions. The doors buzzed and Clark opened them and stepped though followed by Jenny. The place was much dimmer than the hallway with no windows and rather faint light, a projector lighting the wall behind the table was the brightest object in the room. It was rested on a large table seating a dozen old and dignified looking men and women wearing either expensive suits or military blues and greys. There was probably more political clout in this room than half the senate combined.

"Agent Sakai, good to see you back." One of the men said in an Australian accent, despite the gloom she noticed it was Director Durban. "If you'd like to come up to the top of the table." He gestured for her to stand beside the projector.

She stepped forward and passed quietly around the seated dignatories feeling their eyes tracking her every move and trying to glean some knowledge of her by her actions. She moved with deliberate calm and stood by the projector, beside it she could see the data crystals containing her report and selected data from the mission.

"Thank you Mr Clark, close the door on your way out." Durban instructed.

"Way out?" the man replied. "But I thought as expert on the Dilgar I would…"

"Thank you Mr Clark, but Agent Sakai here is the real expert." Durban cut him off. "If Mr Brogan wants his intelligence he will have to wait like the rest of the senate, now go."

Jenny guessed there was more going on between the two than she knew off, but Clark rapidly hung his head and left, closing off the light hallway behind. With the little man gone Jenny realised it was time to start the briefing, and while she had diced with death an unnerving amount of times recently facing these political heavy weights was scary in a different way she was unprepared for. Hopefully she wouldn't make a fool of herself and her natural calm would exert itself.

"Anytime you're ready Agent Sakai." Durban said supportively.

She took a breath and centred on the room, not seeing the audience as power brokers but just people with an interest. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe I have been as close to the Dilgar as any human and I think we have cause for concern."

For the next two hours she gave her full story from the fall of Utriel to the chaos of Tirrith and the escape from the headquarters of the Warmaster. It was a most theatrical story but the dignitaries listened calmly and patiently occasionally scribbling down a note or two into their data pads. As she talked over the events it struck her exactly how lucky they had all been, just one or two tiny miscalculations at any point would have sent the whole team to their deaths. When she got out of here she would probably be needing a serious drink and a break from field work, at least for a little while.

"I have arranged for a low level surveillance of the surviving members of the _Space Race_ crew, but it is unlikely they represent a security threat." She finished off her briefing. "They are loyal to the Alliance and possess nothing detrimental to us. And that concludes the report, are there any questions?"

As she expected there were quite a lot.

"The Spectres you encounted, how would you rate them?" asked General Ben Dayan, commander of the Earth Force ground formations.

"I'd say their technology was at least on the level of the Centauri, the stealth uniforms they wore hid them from light and IR based scans, I'd suggest audio or air displacement sensors would be the only sure ways to detect them."

"Agent Sakai had the presence of mind to rip some of the fabric from a defeated Spectre." Durban said. "Our boys are looking it over right now, it looks like it emits quite a lot of radiation while in use, not very healthy for the wearer and possibly another means of detecting it."

"Besides the technology they were skilled in unarmed combat, I would rank them as superior to all the alien special forces we have knowledge off and superior to our Assaul Ranger and Air mobile brigades, but inferior to the SAS and SEAL units." Jenny concluded and gained a nod from the thin soldier.

"How about communication technology?" a suited agent asked.

"Well on the plus side they never cracked our codes." Jenny stated. "The data was untouched when we retrieved it with Private Garibaldi's help. We were also able to secure a small Dilgar personal computer which we are analysing to get a feel for the Dilgar coding system. Once we break the computer's encryption we will have a way in to crack their military communication codes."

"And your opinion of their fighters?" General Denisov questioned.

"I'm no pilot General, but they seemed highly professional to me and shared a number of doctrines with Earth force fighter command. They operated in loose formations and made short work of the League forces at Utriel and Tirrith. Our own Tiger class Starfuries were able to hold off the Dilgar Thoruns while protecting the _Persephone_, but now they know about us and have seen our craft in action they will learn and adapt. It is my opinion that in an equal fight the Tiger fury will prove inferior to the Thorun."

"Then the new Nova development is most welcome." Denisov commented referring to the new four engines Starfury design entering service. "I'll recommend an increase in production to the President and suspension of the Tiger Fury lines."

"But it looks like our warship design stood up pretty well." General Dayan mentioned. "If anything they proved even more useful against the Dilgar as they did against the Narn."

"It's some reassurance." Durban agreed. "But we need to look at developing tactics to meet and defeat anything the Dilgar can throw at us."

"This information gives us a lot to go on." Denisov said. "But it would help if we had more."

"I'm setting up a number of missions throughout League space." Durban answered. "Mostly low observablility satellites but I am planning on sending one or two agents to critical locations on a volunteer basis."

"Sir, I would like to volunteer for a mission." Jenny said without hesitation. "With my experience I believe I could be a useful asset."

Durban smiled. "I'm sure you will Agent Sakai, but first you will take at least a month's light duties until you fully recover from your ordeal."

"Thank you sir, but I am ready for a full mission."

"Not yet Miss Sakai." Durban said more firmly. "Your dedication is commendable but you need a rest, those are orders."

"Very well sir." She said without enthusiasm. She felt within her heart a deep need to stall the Dilgar, she had seen firsthand what they did to their victims and had to try and thwart them, not something she could achieve stuck on Earth.

"I know you have an interest in the Dilgar now, and I'm sure we can put you on a related project until you recover fully." Durban considered. "Just stay away from Morgan Clark, I believe he is passing Intel to Secretary of State Brogan though we are having a hard time proving it."

"I understand sir." She said calmly, now doubly pleased she hadn't talked to the nervous little man. "Is that all sir?"

"That's all Agent Sakai, good briefing."

"Thank you sir, it was actually my first." She managed a smile, then quickly headed for the door and emerged back into the hall, the committee behind her already starting to discuss the implications of her report. She had the knowledge now that her mission had been worthwhile and that the men and women behind that door were suitably motivated to make sure the Earth lliance was ready for the Dilgar, something most League races were still woefully unprepared for. It was a weird feeling to understand that the Dilgar were gearing up to tear apart the local galaxy and that the ones who were going to be most affected were still in blissful ignorance choosing to believe the Dilgar would be content wit their current conquests and would ignore the next star system along. The Dilgar were conquerors, and they would never be satisfied.

The League may not realise that, but thank fully Earth did and Jenny could take pride in her role and give thanks to her old friends in the _Space Race_ and new friends in the 99th Regiment for making it happen.

Mars, Earth Alliance space

The Afterburner Club.

Paul sipped back on a noxious selection of spirits, it might have been pretending to be Whiskey but it sure wasn't. The club was pretty quiet tonight, a few freight crewers were sat around the quiet tables chating and sharing stories, some of them looking his way as their conversations invariably drifted to his supposed adventures. Paul didn't care for conversation today, he was here on pure business and had asked Jors and Toby to get lost for half an our while he handled the next contract, hopefully one which would restore some of the losses they had taken.

When the _Space Race_ arrived in port towed by an Earth Alliance warship it had literally stopped traffic, every vessel in range had watched the diminutive freighter clamp on to the stationary construction and repair yard run by the Belt Alliance while Paul and his crew had been given shuttle passage to the dome with the soldiers of Garibaldi's platoon. He had actually found himself a little emotional at leaving the troops to go separate ways, they'd only been together for less than a week but both groups had found a real friendship and respect born from their struggle. They had eventually landed and Garibaldi's unit were ushered away in armoured trucks back to their base for a medical check up and debrief, but not before swearing to meet for drinks on New Year's eve a week from now.

The one person he would have invited for drinks before then was Jenny. He'd been able to think a lot about her and the circumstances surrounding what had happened and he had realised she hadn't really been the cause of it all, it had been greed that almost destroyed them and next time Paul would be more careful. He had plenty more thoughts to dwell on about her, but they quickly faded as his business contact arrived and walked over to his table.

"Captain Calendar?" he asked. "Leo Vinetti, I represent the Belt Alliance."

"Take a seat, fancy a drink?"

"No thanks." The man waived the offer. "Not on duty."

Paul allowed a half smile, Vinelli was small set no more than five and a quarter feet tall or so with short dark hair and a precise nature. He wore a suit but not particularly expensive and had pale skin despite his apparent Italian background, a sure sign of a man who spent most of his days in orbital yards of ships bereft of sunlight. "In that case then lets cut to the chase." He took a drink of his own potent brew.

"We'd like to hire you in an advisory role." Vinelli stated. "It would be a short term contract while your freighter is laid up getting fixed."

"An advisor?" Paul said with amusement. "Advising what exactly?"

"Advising us about the dangers of the Dilgar." Vinelli answered seriously. "We see them as a major threat to business."

Paul chuckled a little, he found it slightly amazing how every one classified problems based on how it affected them. The Dilgar were indeed a threat to business, mainly because they were systematically exterminating the customers of the Belt Alliance trading network. Vinelli didn't seem callous for judging the Dilgar on how they affected the Belters, he was just doing his job for his executives. The Belt Alliance was a commercial organization which had a similar structure to a workers union but was run for the profit of its members and to facilitate trade, shipping and mining across Earth space and more recently beyond the borders. Created during the first years of mining in the early twenty second century to provide mutual protection for miners against pirates in the time before Earth had a united space navy, the Belt Alliance had grown under the charter of the Earth Alliance to be one of the most powerful organizations in human space. They offered membership to every freight crew member from independent ships like the _Space Race_ right up to the massive multi planetary fleets of huge industry, though Paul had never accepted the offer or the cut of profits the Belters took.

"It will be a short contract." Paul said. "I can advise you right now how to handle the Dilgar." He took a drink and smiled. "You put as much space as you can between them and you, and you don't look back."

"Well that's one opinion, but we have a contract with Auricon and the Brakiri government." Vinetti said. "One we must honour. Auricon has asked for you to be on a convoy they are preparing to send to Brakiri space using our ships, you must have made an impression."

Paul frowned. "Auricon? The guys who make PPG weapons?"

"The same." The Belt Alliance negotiator confirmed. "Earth Gov authorised the sale of weapons to our League allies, of wich the Markab and Brakiri are our closest partners. Auricon has set up a ten ship convoy to head into Brakiri space and deliver eighty thousand rifles to their homeworld, enough to equip a small army."

"You're sending ships to Brakir?" Paul said flatly. "That's a very bad idea."

"It's two full jumps away from the Dilgar lines, we expect that if they made a move we'd have plenty of time to retreat."

"Then you'd be very wrong and then very dead." Paul said curtly. "The Dilgar will go through the Brakiri front line as if it wasn't there, I've seen them do it before and I've seen them turning Tirrith into a forward base. The Brakiri are next on the hit list Mr Vinetti and we do not want to be a part of that."

"Not even for five million credits?" the man smiled.

Paul leaned forward. "I value my life a little higher than that."

"You won't be in any danger, we're providing ten gunships and two carriers as escort, it's the strongest escort we can muster and our defence ships outnumber freighters!"

"Well that's great, but with all due respect you're gunships will do precisely jack against a Dilgar warship. I saw what these guys did to a full on Earth force cruiser and it wasn't pretty."

"That's why we want you with the fleet." Vinetti emphasized. "If you spot trouble coming you can get our guys out of there."

"I can spot trouble just sitting here!" Paul laughed at the absurdity. "You will be walking into the path of a Dilgar invasion! Even if you were escorted by the entire First fleet and every Dreadnought in Earth force I wouldn't go back there!"

"Okay, you've been out there for a long time, but things are changing around here and there is a fortune to be made." Vinetti tried to convince Paul. "Look at Auricon, do you know how much it costs to hire twelve escort ships for a convoy? It's never happened before plus they want to hire you for millions! That company has got money to burn and it's all thanks to the Dilgar."

This time Paul found himself caught by the negotiators story. "What do they have to do with it?"

"Think about it, Auricon is one of our biggest weapons companies and it just announced a major contract to supply Earth Force with the latest weapons and to ship massive amounts of ordnance to the League. It's a build up, there hasn't been any official announcement from the Government just a few comments about structuring our forces and modernizing the military, but take a look at the papers."

"Let's pretend I've just got back from an Alien world where most of my time was spent crawling over the ground so I didn't get captured and tortured to death." Paul said with dripping sarcasm. "We don't get ISN or 'Universe Today' in the middle of Dilgar territory, so enlighten me."

"Right, Mitchell-Hyundyne just announced an undisclosed contract to replace every fighter in Earth Force with their new Starfuries in just three years, three years!" Vinetti emphasised. "From concept to full implementation in three years, do you know how expensive a project like that would be? The research costs alone will be in the tens of billions. Earth force is desperate for the new fighters and it's all because of the Dilgar threat. Another example, look at Proxima home to the biggest shipyards outside Earth orbit. The ship wright union just announced a three fold increase in its members, they can now work their ship yards around the clock building Dreadnoughts and cruisers, top of the line warships." Vinetti counted off his fingers. "Auricon for guns, Mitchell Hyundyne for fighters, the Proxima yards for warships, Tokomak for military grade power systems, even here on Mars Vickers-Dynamics just took on more workers in their Tank factory. We are in the middle of a military spending spree and when those companies start throwing around money like Auricon is right now we need to grab it. Once the politicians calm down the money will stop."

"You're still missing the fundamental point." Paul said. "The bit where we all get killed by a Dilgar raiding fleet."

"Well try this." Vinetti said in a low voice. "Your ship is in a Belt Alliance owned dock waiting repairs. Now we can let you fix the ship up to its original state or maybe we could see to it that some of our more specialized equipment comes your way."

"Specialized?" Paul raised an eyebrow.

"Like engines and power systems form our warship ranges." Vinetti suggested. "Additional armour, maybe even some interceptor cannons."

"If I do this job for you?"

"Auricon really want you there, if you don't go they might scrap the mission or entrust it to Earth Force, which means we lose a really big pile of money. Fixing up your ship would be a small price to pay."

"I could use some time to think about it." Paul stated. "And talk to my people."

"The Convoy is set for January, let me know before then." Vinetti said. "If there's nothing else…" he stood.

"One thing." Paul said halting Vinetti's departure. "Do you know the Sakai family?"

"Yeah, I've heard of them." Vinetti nodded. "They're members, some run freighters but most make their money doing surveys of resource worlds, made them pretty wealthy."

"They're an honest bunch. I mean they haven't given you trouble?"

"As far as I know they're model citizens. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." Paul said. "Met one of them a while ago, didn't quite know what to ake of her."

"Well they're a good bunch. Let me know your decision before the New Year, here's my card."

Paul took Vinetti's card with a nod of thanks then let him go. He should have ton it up then and there, but he didn't. He couldn't quite place what it was but a big part of him was yelling in favour of this journey and telling him to take the job. It wasn't for the money, and it wasn't for the risk but he needed to go out there and make sure that convoy got there and back safely. It was odd, he hadn't really felt a need to take responsibility like that before and it wasn't something he could truly deal with.

With a grunt he finished the drink before him and stood. He would ask his crew and see what they thought, the modifications to their ship were considerable bribes and had to be addressed. It was utterly stupid to put himself in front of a Dilgar fleet, especially after last time, but in his heart he knew he'd already made his decision.

Elsewhere

The apartments themselves didn't have gardens, most were built on top of each other like large grey construction blocks with a small balcony and barely space for a window box. It was perhaps one of the great disappointments of living on Mars and a result of the severe lack of space inside the domes scattering the surface. Terra forming efforts were underway to try and turn the weak Martian atmosphere into something that would support life but even the most optimistic scientists predicted it would take at least two centuries to work, if ever. Until that time overcrowding and limited personal space were the order of the day, only the wealthiest inhabitants like William Edgars could afford garden space and greenery on Mars was rarer than gold.

But that didn't mean there were no gardens, Mars dome had a few public parks which allowed its population to enjoy a little taste of Earth for at least a few minutes amid the busy and bustling environment. A few small trees from Earth and Proxima flourished in the haven and secluded benches were ever popular with the locals. One such bench was occupied by a young looking raven haired beauty gazing across at a young oak tree about seven feet tall. It was the same seat she had occupied for weeks and so much so that she was as much a part of this park now as the trees and flowers. However no one had spoken to her, she had the air of a person who really wanted to be left alone with her private thoughts and problems of which she appeared to have many. Her great beauty was tinged by an even greater sadness, it was a look which could have inspired the greatest of artists if any had frequented the Parks of Mars and made any who saw her wonder what could possibly have happened to this woman to give her such sadness and grief.

Sophia Garibaldi raised her arm and checked her watch, she noted she had about half an hour before Michael had to be picked up from school and so returned to her silent vigil. She had found some measure of peace here despite the sympathetic glances given to her by passers by almost as if she were now a landmark, a statue dedicated to some unknown tragedy. She had been told by the army officers to seek some sort of councilling but there was no way that was going to happen, Sophia was a strong person and adversity did nothing to break her will, just her heart. She had to stay in control for her son and sitting in a psychiatrist's office blubbing wasn't going to help her with that. She had a job, she had a son, she had all the reasons she needed to go on even though it just wasn't the same. With a quiet sigh she looked again at the oak.

On the tree was a small etching, a little piece of graffiti marring the rare and precious bark. If any of the autourities had discovered who and carved the marking into the tree there would be hell to pay, but fortunately the fuming park warden remained none the wiser even after more than a decade. It was a simple heart inscribed with the letters 'S and A' and had been left there as an eternal reminder of the early days of Alfredo and Sophia's romance. It was the main reason why she was here, it was something permanent and a constant reminder that at one time she and Alfredo had been together, something she was beginning to understand would never happen again.

She became aware of a figure taking a seat beside her on the bench. She was in absolutely no mood for company and made no move or indication that she wanted to a conversation.

"I guessed you'd be here." The figure said in a male voice. "We met on that path just over there fourteen years ago. I remember it like yesterday."

It took a moment for her mind to catch up, she was busy remembering the moment before she questioned how this man had known. She snapped her head sideways and saw a ghost.

"I ran into a bit of trouble." Alfredo said. "But it'd take more than a Dilgar fleet to keep me away from you and our son."

Sophia was utterly speechless, but words didn't matter. Nothing really seemed to matter all that much now because what she had thought was lost had just returned.

"I promised I'd be home for Christmas." He smiled widely and reached out to her, and with the joy of someone who just received everything they had ever wanted she fell into the embrace and just let go of her emotions.

If an artist had been passing he would have been inspired in a different way. While the pretty but sad woman on the bench would have made a masterful painting, the scene now would never be adequately portrayed in a still and lifeless medium. The artist would simply have smiled with warmth and left them in the solitude they deserved in the precious greenery of Mars beneath an Oak tree.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 26

Gorash system

"Well we we're looking for the Narns." Londo remarked. "In a way this should be a happy moment."

"Then why am I not cheering?" Urza replied. "I've often considered a glorious death in battle, but I'd like to put it off for a while."

"As do I my friend, I suggest we move on to the second part of the plan, the bit where we run away."

"I couldn't agree more Londo, going to maximum power!" Urza increased speed. "We're being jammed!"

The two fighters piloted by the young noble men spun around and raced back the way they had come with their engines burning at full thrust. Their mission had been to find the suspected Narn fleet waiting to move in and claim the system when the Centauri left, and sure enough they had blundered onto it. They had been expecting a simple garrison force of a few destroyers and a command ship which would simply claim the system by being there, but instead had run into a full military fleet of heavy cruisers and numerous escorts, almost an invasion fleet. Unsurprisingly their sudden haste was a very smart move as the two fighters had no chance of surviving a confrontation with that force, their best hope was to pray they hadn't been spotted.

"Hell!" Mollari yelled. "We're under weapons lock, Narn fighters closing!"

"Increase speed." Urza ordered. "We can't fight them, we must out run them."

The Sentri fighters went to full burn, they had the basic thrust to outrun just about anything in normal space, but it appeared the Narns were not quite content to let the craft leave. A squadron of Gorith medium weight fighters accelerated to catche Londo and Urza, they were primitive craft made from salvaged Centauri technology, an almost heretical design like all Narn vessels. Londo was aware of the irony of being shot down by former Centauri particle cannons. The two Sentri's should have easily out run the Narns, but it seemed that their enemies had been improving their engines a little.

"That whole fleet is moving." Urza noted. "And some of it is following us too close for comfort!"

A series of green particle bolts flashed by and highlighted his point. "Where the hell did they get those from!" Londo snapped. "I will not be killed by some unwashed Narn!"

"We underestimated their engines." Urza said with utter calm. "Someone must have helped them with the design."

"Or perhaps they are using a new fuel, liquid hate!" Londo yelled. "Only works against us, triple damned bastards!" he screamed as if the pursuing pilots would hear his abuse across the void.

"Whatever the reason they are getting closer, even at full burn we might not make it back to our lines."

"I'm not going to let them shoot me in the back." Londo snarled. "If it comes to it I'll face them head on."

"As will I." Urza agreed. "We die with the glint of our enemies steel in our eyes." Both of them had vowed to give their lives and their honour for the Republic, and if this was their time than so be it. They would pass from the universe with glory, an image of the Centauri of old unbowed and fearless against the terrors of space. It was to be a good death.

But it wasn't destinied to happen just yet. From ahead a wing of Centauri fighters raced towards them and immediately fired on the Narns, satisfied that they had been proven hostile. Londo had to perform a quick evasive flip not to avoid the Narn fire but the over zealous Centauri pilots attempting to rescue them. With a curse he swept past within feet of the rookie pilot heading towards him and angled in close to Urza. Behind them two Centauri craft were shattered by incoming fire but not before the Narn squadron was all but destroyed.

"Damn rookies." Londo shook his head. "More dangerous than the Narn!"

TheCentauri house fleets used much the same technology as the Republic at large and while ostensibly sworn to the Centaurum in truth they answered to their sponsoring house. In the past this had caused huge problems for the Republic as nobles used military power to gain influence and power, in fact the use of house fleets against each other in civil war was one of the decisive factors in destroying the late great Republic. Today the problem was less, the combined might of the house forces was far smaller than the Emperors Royal Navy and any notion of rebellion was swiftly crushed. Additionally house forces were as a whole poorly trained and poorly led often becoming objects of contempt for the professional fleets, although both House Mollari and Jaddo prided themselves on the quality of their forces. While the Royal Navy would steam roller the average house fleet Lord Jaddo and Lord Mollari were gambling the primitive Narn would not. It was a hell of a gamble.

The two fighters made it back to the gathering point for the main fleets, three _Primus_ battlecruisers held the centre of the formation, the pride of House Mollari the Manta shaped vessels could outfight anything their size known in the galaxy. The second component of the force were the fast attack cruisers of House Jaddo, _Demos_ class destroyers with their birdlike beaks and distinctive crescent wings kept station around the battlecruisers straining to be unleashed into vicious slashing attacks on the awkward Narn ships. Backing up these warships were the fast fighters of the fleet, mainly expensive and capable Sentri's which shared the crescent design so beloved of the Centauri. It was a compact and powerful fleet which should have been able to take on any force of equal numbers in the galaxy. Unfortunately the Narns were not stupid enough to send an equal force.

From around the systems moon they broke cover, eight full sized assault cruisers armed to the teeth with Plasma weapons and exceptional armour. The were slow and horrific when trying to manoeuvre but that armour gave it enough survivability to slowly close into firing range and unleash powerful short range volleys which ate through the relatively weak Centauri ship structure. The Narn ships had their huge and distinctive double hulls connected by a simple command and control structure and surrounded by fighters, simple and primitive but possessed of a hard brutality and sure purpose, much like their crews. The Narn had also brought plenty of escorts which shared the heavy armour of their larger cousins but equally poor engines. They outnumbered the Centauri by over two to one and seemed more than willing to fight, which suited Londo just fine.

"I think it's time we did something about these Narns." He said, his frustration at running away now a dim memory.

"Perhaps we should join the attack squadrons?" Urza replied with a smile in his voice. "Make sure they don't get lost on the way to battle?"

Londo laughed, a laugh born from pure excitement and a growing lack of self control. He was rapidly letting go of his normal constraints, things like conscience and a sense of responsibility all dropped away taking his fear and his doubts with them. Londo wasn't a soldier, he was a duellist living for the thrill of single combat with he and he alone in charge of seizing his future with no reliance on a crew or a wing man. Live or die, it would be a fate of his own making. "Into battle!" he roared. "For the Republic!"

He brought his fighter around to face the Narn and accelerated, neat crescents of fellow Centauri preceding him as the two forces closed. There had been no communication, there was no need. Whatever orders they had from the Emperor or from the Kha'ri it was far too late, they had seen each other and the mere sight had been enough to stir old and passionate hatreds. Everything was consumed by that hate, but while the Narn hatred for the Centauri was fiery and devastating the Centauri hatred was cool and calculating. The crescent ships remained under tight control keeping their formations while the Narn drove forward with no thought other than reaching firing range. When both sides met the Narn were a ragged mass of ships while the Centauri were still in precise formation, except for Londo and Urza.

The Centauri squadrons cleared away everything in front of them, they didn't even slow down but just pushed on at full speed racing through exploding Narn craft. The Narn however did not care, they held on and fired back, turning a number of Sentri's into burning debris and in two instances even ramming them head on destroying both craft. The Narn had sworn revenge on the Centauri and sealed it in blood, to die fighting the Centauri was a noble end and to take a few of the hated aliens down with you was considered the mark of a true Narn hero.

Londo and Urza fell in behind the first wave of Centauri fighters, enough Narn made it through to give them something to shoot at and Londo lined up and fired on a Gorith which was locking weapons on to him. Orange bolts slammed into the Narn craft first time and scattered its components in a brief flash of flame. It wasn't the first fighter Londo had destroyed, he had plenty of experience defending his house realm from Raiders and Pirates, but this was his first Narn kill and it felt different and not in a bad way. The Narns weren't civilized creatures like the Centauri or the Humans, or even the Orieni. They were just brutal animals in need of extermination.

"Don't get too close to the escorts." Urza warned as the main fleet closed in. "Stay with the fighters!"

He and Londo looped around and fell onto the tail of a decimated squadron of Narns heading for the house Jaddo attack ships. The Narn took evasive action but it wasn't enough against the skilled twosome who rapidly brought down four of the craft before they could adequately respond. The Centauri and Narn fighter tactics were little different to those of the League, all of them treated the tactics and manoeuvres as an extension of aerial combat where speed was king and all craft had their main thrusters at the back on the centre line to drive them forward. Neither race had made the abstract leap from using modified aerial tactics to developing a new set of pure space based moves to use in battle, in fact only the Dilgar and Humans had embraced the idea of a pure space orientated fighter and set of tactics and while radicals in the Republic were developing extreme High-G combat turns similar to those seen among their human associates it was still frowned upon by the establishment. Londo himself detested all the stopping and starting he'd seen human pilots perform, and spinning like a top just seemed like a good way to get nausea. He used his fighter like a sword, long curving and elegant strikes swiping through space and cutting into the slower Narn craft with pinpoint precision.

A massive wave of firepower washed past Londo's fighter forcing him to bank sharply around. The volley had come from one of the Narn cruisers as it entered range and began engaging the main Centauri line. The commanders had been under orders to let the Narn fire first, and now that they had they retaliated with a hail of orange bolts. They converged on the Narn cruiser and punched through its hull with remarkable ease, each round possessing greater power and speed than the best of the Narn firepower. The Cruiser quickly withered and fell apart shedding hull sections like leaves before crackling to a halt with gas and electrical discharges leaking from the former warship.

With the ball now firmly rolling the Centauri attack ships raced forward in trios opening fire with guns and torpedoes against a flank of the Narn fleet, slicing down escorts frigates in seconds. The Narn fighters rushed to support their beleaguered comrades and drew the Centauri with them, the intense dog fight continuing in the wakes of burning escorts and fast destroyers. One Centauri _Demos_ misjudged its run and ended up between a Narn escort and its cruiser. Plasma fire rose up to intercept the ship burning through its light armour and blasting it apart, the wreck spinning away in a trail of fire and debris. Two Narn frigates were sliced to pieces by laser fire from a Battlecruiser which then shredded a third with its ion and particle cannons. The Centauri fleet was acting to cover each other and herd the Narns into the best possible firing arcs while the Narn ships had lost coordination and gotten to far ahead of themselves. The Centauri were simply cutting down anything which got into range and making sure their attack ships kept the Narn from concentrating their forces for a hammer strike.

Another Narn fighter was hit by Londo's guns, the craft losing an engine and spinning out of control at terrific speed. He edged to the side to avoid the helpless craft and looked for a new target, none was forthcoming.

"What happened, is that it?" he looked around for more Narn fighters.

"So it appears." Urza chuckled. "We're out of victims. We just get to sit and watch the big ships work out their differences."

With a sigh Londo reduced the throttle and returned the fighter to cruising speed, Urza forming up beside him on the edge of the battle. They took their spectators position and observed the main event of the battle as the surviving Narn heavy ships engaged House Mollari's battle cruisers. The exchange of energy fire was terrific, and even though most of the Narn fire missed due to rather primitive targeting controls enough hit to scar the warships and cause heavy damage to the leading _Primus._ But for every hit the Centauri took the Narns suffered several, between the battlecruisers and the constant strafing of Jaddo's attack cruisers the Narn fleet was whittled away in a constant flicker of explosions. It was a magnificent sight for a Centauri and the scene was etching itself into Londo's heart as a window on the greatness of the Republic. Within five minutes the Narn fleet had been ruined, the final ships making suicide runs on the battlecruisers but never getting anywhere near thanks to the roving destroyers. The lights flickered out and white hot metal cooled in the vacuum while Londo's grin broadened.

"We did it, by the gods Urza we did it!"

"We saved Gorash from the Narn and kept it for the Republic! It is a glorious day!"

"Lets get back and open a vat of Brivari!" Londo laughed. "This deserves a celebration!"

They headed back for the flagship, its scorched hull still more or less intact with the sure and certain knowledge that they would be heroes of the Centauri Republic.

Mars

Afterburner club.

New Years eve 2230

"You guys are just the best!" John 'Bugs' Malone gushed. "You fellas, you are Da man! Or Da men, just great!" he swayed a little and was quickly guided down to his chair be his squad mates with much derision about not holding his liquor. As promised the crew of the _Space Race_ and survivors of Red Platoon from the 99th Regiment's Alpha company had met up to celebrate the new year and give some thanks for not getting killed in the last one. Already Toby and a few of the soldiers had enjoyed a little too much hospitality and were being steadied and gently mocked by the rest of the party.

"Ten minutes people!" Garibaldi announced. "Ten minutes until midnight!" Which was met by hearty cheers.

"So what did you tell Vinetti?" Jors spoke to Paul Calendar over the cheers and improvised singing.

"About the Brakiri job?" Paul wondered. "I took it."

Jors blinked a couple of times. "You did what?"

"I took it, they wanted an advisor on their escort fleet and I said yes. You guys can come too."

"Are you actually registered as insane?" Jors exclaimed. "You'll be heading two jumps away from a massed Dilgar fleet! Remember what happened last time?"

"Course I remember! Think I'll ever forget?" he snapped.

"So why go and risk that again? The Dilgar aren't massing that fleet for a shopping spree!"

"Because we need the money and I've worked into the deal that the _Space Race _gets a full refit with military grade equipment." Paul stated.

"How the hell did you get that!"

"Don't ask, but we'll be doing one or two jobs for arms suppliers, maybe pretty dangerous jobs."

"And when did you decide this?" Jors hissed.

"Just this morning." Paul answered. "The _Race_ is mine, but you and Toby have your own contracts. You don't have to come along, I need to recruit a few more guys anyway."

Jors sighed. "Let me think about it huh? Heading back out there isn't something I want to decide on tonight." The big Swede managed a grin. "Especially after all these drinks."

Paul laughed a little. "Sleep on it, the convoy isn't going for a week or so yet."

Their attention was suddenly grabbed by a banging on the table as Garibaldi stood. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said grandly. "Chow time!"

There was a round of appreciative comments as Garibaldi revealed a couple of cooking pots and plates of food. The party gathered around and begun hungrily tucking into the selection.

"I hear you are a pretty good cook." Paul mentioned as he walked up beside Garibaldi.

"I'm not bad." He smiled. "I made this stuff earlier today with the family, kind of a tradition. Here, you want to try some of this."

Paul took some of the food and dipped it into a substance inside one of the pots. A little tentatively he took a bite and was utterly amazed by the taste.

"Holy crap!" he said before taking another bite. "Oh man, that is amazing!"

"Thanks." Garibaldi chuckled. "Called Bagna Couder, it's my speciality."

"You should sell this stuff on the streets!" Paul continued through mouthfuls. "You'd make a fortune!"

"It's not for sale, its an old family recipe, top secret." The soldier grinned. "I only make it on special occasions, and this counts."

"This is just too good." Paul ate more. "I mean Italian cooking is great but this, I don't know how you manage it."

"It's a tradition." Garibaldi said. "The one thing all my family liked doing was cooking, we all had that in common and we all bonded over it. My Dad showed me how to make this years ago and this morning my son and I made this together."

"Well its exquisite." Paul said. "How is your family?"

Garibaldi's smile grew noticeably wider. "They're great, I can't tell you what it's like to be back. Christmas this year was just too much for words man, I almost broke down a couple of times."

Paul drew himself away from the banquet. "I guess its hard to adjust. The army might teach you how to control your fear in battle, but it's got to come out sometime some how."

"It's just like how can I be that lucky and that happy after all that's happened?" Garibaldi asked. "You were there, you saw the shoot out and the Dilgar soldiers going down around us. I watched some good people die out there, and I found a whole town poisoned by those bastards, kids smaller than my boy just murdered. How do you come back from that?"

"You don't." Paul said quietly. "You just have to learn to deal with it and move on."

"You know I never got to spend much time with Michael, my son." Alfredo Garibaldi sighed a little. "Now I've been home a week and I just don't know how to act with him. I can't tell him my stories because it'd scar hi for life, I can't even tell Sophia."

"You don't have to, you just talk to us who went through it too." Paul stated supportively. "We all need to help out each other just like we did back on the planet. My dad didn't spend much time with me either, he was too busy running cargo and stuff but even though we didn't speak much I never doubted his feelings for me. Kids are smart Freddy, you just let your son set the pace."

Garibaldi had a bite of the delicious meal. "This recipe has come down through my family for centuries. I'm not a rich man, if I died out there my boy wouldn't inherit a fortune, or a big house, or anything much. We've never been rich, but we've always been close. This food, the way to make it is the only thing I really have to pass on. It's my legacy and I just want to make sure he understands it."

"Of course he will." Paul patted his shoulder. "You just need to be yourself."

"Hey you two!" Bugs called. "One minute!"

"Thanks." Garibaldi nodded sincerely. "Come on, lets look forward now, but remember the past." He picked up a glass. "Friends, lets have a toast. To the Sarge."

"The Sarge." The assembled group replied.

"And to Private Manilow." Bugs added.

"Lieutenant Sanchez." Added Harlow.

"And to T'koth." Garibaldi pre-empted Pauls suggestion. "Absent friends." He raised his glass.

"Absent Friends." The part intoned and drank well.

"To absent friends, in memory still bright." A gentle voice added. The group turned and immediately recognized the dark haired woman who had joined them.

"Jenny." Paul said quietly. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I wasn't sure I was welcome, after everything." She spoke gently.

"Of course you're welcome." Garibaldi welcomed her, the rest of the group adding their agreement. "You were right there with us, you've more than earned the right."

"Yeah." Paul smiled slightly. "You're one of the family."

Somewhere towards the middle of Mars Dome the central clock began to strike twelve, each strike of the bell accompanied by cheers from across the city and the planet. Inside the club the party and fellow patrons erupted in a great roar as one year passed and a new one began with all the promise and danger that held. When the chimes ended and drink began flowing anew the room began laughing once again.

"You should try some of this stuff Garibaldi made." Paul smiled at Jenny. "I swear you'll never have better."

She took some of the offered food and paused. "Are we okay?"

"Of course we are!" he chuckled. "I was an idiot and I was angry at myself. You weren't to blame and I'm sorry."

"You mean that?" she pierced him with her intense eyes.

"I mean it." He answered. "hell we'd all by lab rats if it wasn't for you, ain't that right Freddy?"

"Hell yeah!" he contributed. "You're totally one of us, now try some of my cooking!"

She took a bite and the expression she had immediately changed. "Whoah."

"We we're right there with you." Paul grinned. "I guess you aren't here for long, so lets just enjoy the party and not wory about anything else."

"Best idea I've heard all week." She smiled. "lets drink to us, the ones who made it."

The soldiers and crew members took another drink to that. "To life, and to living it." She smiled and downed the shot of Vodka.

"Yow, they teach you to drink like that in the army?" Paul chuckled.

"I picked it up from you guys." She smiled, a grin which Paul was happy to return.

Outside singing filtered through, the traditional Scottish tune which had marked the passing of years for centuries. The survivors all joined in with gusto if little actual talent, but that wasn't important. They were a close group despite their back grounds and they celebrated it. They year ahead held surprises and terrors no one could predict, for too many it was the last year of their lives and the year the Dilgar war moved into full swing. But for the men and women in the Afterburner those thoughts were a million miles away, for them the year was born in song and wherever the future led the strength and comradeship they had formed together would not be broken.

2245

"Enjoying the story so far?" Jha'dur teased.

"Perhaps not as much as your ego is." Neroon glared stonily back. "So far I have heard nothing I did not already know."

She laughed into her glass before taking another sip of alcohol. If Neroon wanted to insult her that little laugh would really anger him, which was fun. "Clearly you weren't paying attention." She said, though from his intense stare as he spoke she knew he had been.

"Or perhaps you are just wasting my time."

"Shai Alyt Sineval didn't think so." She mentioned the name of the Wind sword clan leader. "We got on very well, we have plenty in common."

Neroon bared his teeth. "No Minbari has anything in common with a murderous fiend like you." His words were edged in a warning, one which Jha'dur promptly ignored with wry amusement.

"Such a prideful man. In my experience pride leads to disaster." She stared keenly at him. "What do you think of the Narn?"

"Excuse me?" Neroon was a little taken aback by the change of subject. "What does that have to do…"

"Humour me." She grinned. "What do you think of the Narn?"

He shrugged. "They are primitive and brutal, but some in the Religious caste have sympathy for their plight."

"But the Minbari are better."

"Of course we are." Neroon answered as if by instinct.

"And the Centauri? Are you beeter than them?"

"It is simple fact." Neroon nodded. "We are older, wiser and more powerful."

"I'm sure you say the same for the League." Jha'dur received a nod in answer. "And the Dilgar?"

"We were certainly superior to your people." He sneered.

"Except in the field of certain biological sciences." She spoke with a glint in her eye. "And Humans, you are better than them of course?"

"Of course."

"So it seems the Minbari are better than everyone." Jha'dur smiled. "We thought the exact same thing, we thought all the galaxy was filled with potential slaves or simple vermin. We considered ourselves better, and now our bones are scattered on a dead world." She took a drink to build tension. "I hope you will not suffer a similar fate for your overconfidence."

"Unlike you, we can protect ourselves."

"Careful Alyt." Jha'dur smiled wickedly. "There is always somebody bigger and nastier than you lurking in the dark places of the galaxy. The Minbari ar enot the oldest race in the galaxy by a long way, just hope that when the old ones begin to move you pick the right side."

"What are you talking about now?" Neroon asked with a huff.

"Nothing, nothing at all." She chuckled to herself. "So humans, did you notice how that cruiser fought to the death?"

"In all our battles we have seen the same thing." Neroon smiled a little. "Every battle is to the death."

"But you don't give the humans a choice, they must fight to the death or just be killed helplessly. At Tirrith they did have a choice, and they chose to stand and fight to protect the helpless even though they gained nothing from it."

"It was a foolish act."

"It was magnificent." Jha'dur licked her lips. "You may be a warrior but you do not understand the joy of battle and the thrill of death. To witness such nobility is breathtaking, and to crush it in person is the most incredible feeling of power imaginable." She chuckled. "You will feel it soon Neroon, the conquerors affliction for destroying the weak despite your lofty ideals, you will become murderers just like us. Until someone bigger comes along and does the same to you."

"This speculation is tiring. Why don't you stick to the facts?"

"As you wish." The woman known as Death Walker nodded. "Though Sineval did so enjoy these little conversations."

"Facts." Neroon said harshly. "Unless you would like to visit the Drazi homeworld?"

"Not just yet." She grinned. "So we come to the Earth year 2231, so far we had been concerned with securing our borders and establishing forward resource bases. With every route into Dilgar space secure and the Abbai and Drazi military held back we were able to proceed with the primary objective of the war. We had to find a new homeworld and make sure no race within fifty light years was in a position to attack it. The humans called this year 'The opening of the Seventh seal' which actually has quite an interesting history to it."

"Which I'm sure you'll explain in boring detail just to listen to the sound of your own voice." Neroon jeered. "Very well, continue."

Jha'dur settled down, well aware that despite his crabbiness Neroon was fascinated by the tale just as Sineval had been. She had always been able to use her Charisma to manoeuvre people into helping her and was confident she already had Sineval in her pocket, with Neroon too her power could only increase.

"So then, why don't we continue?"


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 27

Brakiri border, January 2231

Patrol in the Comac system was long held to be a deeply boring job amongst the commercial military of the Brakiri, it was an uninteresting sector bordered by uninteresting worlds with nothing that could be considered worthy of the time of a real military officer. The posting was often given to rookie recruits or proven incompetents in the hope they wouldn't be able to do much damage here. In the last month things had changed dramatically, when Tirrith fell all of a sudden Comac wasn't just a stop off for trade it quickly became the front line between Brakiri and Dilgar, a line with a lot more Dilgar ships arrayed upon it. To their credit the Krona had responded quickly and deployed a sizeable fleet to the border with a huge reserve force on constant alert to move from homeworld to the expected battle. Nobody in the military was kidding themselves about war with the Dilgar, the politicians could worry and debate but even the lowliest crew member knew the Dilgar were going to be coming for them.

It was no surprise when the first scout ships left hyperspace and began quick scans of the colony and its defences, the Dilgar vessels keeping their distance and avoiding the Brakiri fighter picquets. When they were approached the scouts fled and sector command had little choice but to let them return home with their data, in fact sector command was quite happy to allow it. The Dilgar were cunning warriors and had proven more than a match for the Abbai and Drazi, however they were now about to engage Brakiri and that was a very different set of circumstances. The Abbai were advanced but made poor warriors, while the Drazi were brave but un coordinated, factors which the Dilgar exploited and the Brakiri admiralty took notice of. The Brakiri fleet had a high degree of centralised command and control meaning it would act as one fluid unit designed to support each other. Warships and fighters would work in mutually supporting squadrons to drive forward and strike the aggressors with powerful long range weapons. Their speed of reaction and overwhelming show of force would crush the Dilgar and force them to retreat and sue for peace at which point the Brakiri could secure the freedom of the captured League worlds single handed. For a price of course. It was a beautiful theory, but nothing more than that.

In truth that model was a mess, it had all the components of a formidable war machine but they were left unassembled by petty rivalries and company policy. A recent rumour that Ly-Nakir industries had sold secrets to the Dilgar had soured the company's reputation and driven a wedge between them and Ak-Habil, the other great space faring company. In practical terms this meant the main carrier and fighter units of the Brakiri navy operated exclusively by Ly-Nakir would not take orders or indeed go anywhere near the fleet warships of Ak-Habil, thus stripping the Brakiri forces of their organic fighter support and splitting the chain of command. Rather than one fluid fleet the Brakiri were saddled with two powerful but highly flawed forces which a half intelligent opponent would happily exploit. The Dilgar would have a field day if they attacked before a comprimise was reached.

The government, Naval command and the directors of the affected companies were working around the clock to repair relations and convince the big corporations that their feud and profit margins were less important than the safety of their race. They had been making progress when reports of the scout ships had arrived and both parties immediately stormed out and readied for war, each convinced they could take the Dilgar threat alone. The Admirals were less convinced, but offered up prayers to the deities and prepared themselves for the worst. They were not to be disappointed.

Commander Tuscol Rolan was the first officer to pick up the hyperspace distortions, a whole wall of jump points opening up in the middle of the system beyond the range of the mines and planetary defences, what few there were. The sensors registered thousands of ships of a wide variety including a few hundred large capital ships, clearly an invasion force. No warning was given, no ultimatum or declaration of war, the Dilgar just showed up and prepared to engage.

"Comms, get a message to homeworld, the Dilgar are coming." Rolan said calmly betraying no emotion. "Helm, pull us back to the main defensive line and await further orders." Despite the confusion between fleets the ships had Comac had very specific orders, the first of which was not to engage the Dilgar without help. "Sound action stations and ready for battle."

Dilgar Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

The warship was performing much to her satisfaction and Warmaster Jha'dur was tingling at the thought her testing it in combat. The _Deathwalker_ had been named by her specifically to strike terror into the Brakiri when they saw it, the perfect psychological weapon it was painted gloss black and blood red and signalled to the galaxy that the predators of the void had arrived. Yet the ship was also a truly formidable battleship in its own right with an increased weapons fit compared to the basic _Mishakur_ class dreadnoughts used as command ships for the navy. Inside it held a number of science labs so Jha'dur could now conduct her research and experiments while on campaign and a greatly improved sensor suite. However the most notable difference was the addition of two mass drivers on the ships underside, as bold a statement as she could imagine that this ship was born to live up to its ominous name.

"Brakiri forces retreating." Confirmed Captain An'jash. The white haired officer was keeping her battle lust firmly in check and running the warship with the cold efficiency Jha'dur had chosen her for. "They are gathering closer to the planet."

"Standard defensive line." Jha'dur noted. "Advance slowly, give them time to spring their brilliant trap."

Jha'dur was approaching this situation cautiously, at its best the Brakiri fleet was the closest thing to the professional Dilgar navy which the League possessed and was considered by many Warmasters to be the greatest test of the invasion. A Brakiri warship was larger, better armoured and more advanced than even the biggest Dilgar cruiser, they also operated advanced gravitic weapons and often shields which far outstripped anything Jha'dur could bring to battle. But warfare was about more than weapons, and if Jha'dur made sure the Brakiri advantages were useless then it didn't matter how advanced their ships were, the Brakiri would be just another conquest.

"Their trap Warmaster?" An'jash queried.

"Their trap." She smiled knowingly. "A week ago the Brakiri moved the lions share of their fleet away from their homeworld and into hyperspace, it hasn't been seen since. I think it's out there waiting in reserve until we attacked here or the other colony at Ekalta."

As if on cue a series of jump points opened up near to the Brakiri fleet and a huge fleet emerged, stately green and yellow warships gliding through the blue maelstrom and assuming combat positions in front of the threatened planet. Straight away Jha'dur noticed their fractured deployment and the lack of mutual support between carriers and ships of the line. The Brakiri force was formidable but the battle was already over.

"We'll begin the battle there, on the right flank." Jha'dur pointed to the blocks of tall _Avioki_ cruisers. "Send in Thorun wings four to twenty with orders to pick off key systems. The rest of the fleet will continue to advance slowly into range."

"As you wish Warmaster."

Waves of fighters launched from the Dilgar fleet and roared out to do battle. They formed into the now famous inverted 'V' formation and set course for the heavy warships. The Brakiri held their line and armed their weapons systems determined to form a solid barrier the Dilgar would not cross. Their enemy moved slowly in a very simplistic formation which would be very easy to engage, and more than one Brakiri officer scoffed at the reputation of the fabled Dilgar Warmasters. This battle would be a walk over.

Brakiri cruiser _Anarel_

Commander Rolan took his assigned position within the battle lines commanded by Admiral Dokan and joined his fellow employees of Ak-Habil. It was an awesome sight to see so many majestic warships assembled for this battle, the greatest concentration of Brakiri might in history. After the fall of the Abbai Rolan had expected this day would come and had often wondered how he might feel when brought face to face with the Dilgar, and he had expected to be either very brave of more likely very scared. In truth he felt nothing, almost a complete sense of detachment as the Dilgar fighters rushed closer and closer.

"That's a lot of hostiles." First officer Remik observed. "Real lot."

"Correct, but we still outnumber them." Rolan replied confidently. The Brakiri force did indeed outnumber the Dilgar attack force and explained why the enemy were moving so slowly, they were clearly quite scared. "Any fresh orders?"

"No Commander, we are still to hold our position and protect the colony."

Rolan nodded. "In that case activate defensive guns and prepare to receive fighters."

The ship did not require dimmed lights or wailing sirens to warn the crew to battlestations, in total silence they locked their weapons on to the Dilgar fighters and prepared. They had been told not to take the first shot but to respond with overwhelming force the second the Dilgar fighters engaged. The whole thing seemed to be moving with alarming speed and Rolan's mind was still quietly processing the arrival of the Dilgar fleet when the leading fighters began to attack. The Thoruns pounded the ship in front of Rolan's command and a series of explosions flashed on its hull from energy bolts and missiles. The hull seemed to withstand the opening strike but there was no sense in waiting for a second run, every vessel in range opened fire with its secondary guns sending bright orbs of energy into the Dilgar formations. The fleet was set up in a strong defensive wall able to cover each other from attacks such as these, they set up pre defined crossfires in the space between ships and lashed out as the Thoruns were channelled between the green warships.

Fighters exploded and pilots died, the Dilgar were not known for their compassion and that extended to their own pilots with the concept of an ejection system little more than an idea to be laughed at. At such close range the Brakiri weapons were devastating but rather than fall back the fighters got closer, braving the storm of energy fire and trying to reach point blank range with the fleet.

"Two more Thoruns down." Remik stated. "Incoming fire."

Rolan held on as the ship jolted a little, a pair of low yield nuclear missiles hitting somewhere on the outer hull. "Where are the Dilgar warships?"

"Still beyond weapons range."

"They aren't moving to support their fighters? Why?" Rolan frowned. "Why send in fighters without warship support?"

"Don't know sir, but we've got a lot of fighters heading our way." Remik reminded.

"Maintain fire, try and single out missile armed craft first."

The Thoruns weaved between the Brakiri, dodging through the explosions and fractured debris of their predeccesors as they closed on the warships. The closer they got the harder the Brakiri found it to adequately target the whizzing fighters, their gun tracker units were having a hard time adjusting fire as the craft came closer and closer. One of Rolan's bursts was aimed squarely at a Thorun, as it was fired the fighter nimbly cartwheeled out of the way and returned the strike, particle bolts plinking off the armour around the anti fighter gun turret. Large numbers of fighters were evading the guns as the range closed and were able to start pecking away at the vast cruisers, knocking out vulnerable systems like targeting sensors and gun barrels with pinpoint attacks. The Brakiri had always expected enemy fighters to launch strafing runs and then swing around for another pass, but the Dilgar fighters slowed right down and held themselves almost stationary alongside a cruiser under its gun arcs slowly rendering the ship combat ineffective. The massive warships found themselves with no defence against this new way of attacking with fighters and needed help.

"Picking up comms traffic from the flagship." Remik spoke up. "The Admiral is demanding fighter support."

Rolan knew that would work, in a straight fight the Brakiri light weight Falkosi fighters would be massacred by the Thoruns, but right now those Dilgar craft were sat almost stationary picking off warship systems, the Brakiri fighters could get the drop on them and destroy a significant amount of the Dilgar strike wings. "Any response?"

"Not good." Remik grimaced. "The commander of the Carrier fleets is refusing to put his fighters under our Admirals command. He claime corporate rivalry and believes it's a trick to destroy Ly-Nakir assets."

"That's insane!" Rolan snapped. "Can't they see we need them!" he pointed to a display showing a cruiser blazing from a hundred tiny holes spinning slowly out of formation. "This is real!"

"The Admiral is telling them the same thing." Remik looked desperate as he listened to the heated conversation. "But the Ly-Nakir guy is sending his fighters to hit the Dilgar fleet first."

"Sounds like a big mistake."

"Probably more to do with earning glory for his company than executing a well thought out plan, he's just copying the Dilgar." Remik suggested. "Either way our fighter support just set off towards the Dilgar line."

"Heavens help the,." Rolan intoned, the pilots were from a rival company but were still Brakiri, which to him was more important. "They'll be touching the comets tail by evening."

"They might make it." Remik said with false hope, the ship shuddering from a direct hit.

"Maybe, but I want the jump engines charged just in case, this doesn't look good."

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

"Eager little people aren't they?" Jha'dur remarked, the tactical screen filling with incoming fighters. "This could be tricky."

While the main Brakiri fighter force consisted of small units there were a number of heavier strike fighters in their ranks which could prove harmful to the ships of her fleet. Both types of fighters would be quick kills for the superior Dilgar craft but with two thirds of her fighters strafing the Brakiri battle line the remaining Thoruns were going to be outnumbered. If she recalled her strike wings it may entice the Brakiri fleet forward, which she didn't need just yet so it would be up to the remaining fighters escorting her fleet and the rapid fire pulsar cannons on the ships themselves.

"Hold our formation." She said. "Thorun units will attack the Brakiri strike craft only, ignore the lighter fighters."

It was a risk, but she was still confident the battle was hers for the taking, and the mere fact these fighters were heading her way and not acting in support of the other Brakiri units told her the enemy was divided and ready to be conquered. All she needed to do was take her time and let discord work its magic in the Brakiri chain of command.

Thorun fighters met the Brakiri halfway, driving like a hammered nail through the screen of interceptors and boring towards the Strike craft. The meeting of the two forces filled space with fleeing souls as both sides lost warplanes by the dozen though the advantage remained firmly with the Dilgar fighters. Burning debris scattered in the path of the Dilgar attack, rapidly cooling and smouldering metal of grey or green giving the only clue to whom the craft had once belonged to. With single minded fury the Thoruns laid into the Pikitos class strike craft and ran circles around the Brakiri, literally spinning off axis to keep their noses and guns on target tearing up the sluggish craft. The Brakiri kept stoically on course and soon entered firing range of the fleet.

"Common mistake." Jha'dur said. "Those Brakiri fighters should have broken off to engage our Thoruns in a dogfight where they might have had success, instead they are coming in to strafe us where their weak guns will be less than useless."

"They are in range." An'jash stated calmly.

"Destroy them all." The Warmaster ordered. "And look out for escape capsules, been a while since I met a Brakiri." She spoke with relish, the new mobile labs needed a thorough test.

Brakir, Homeworld of the Brakiri Sydicracy

The emergency assembly had been long expected by Limak Brocat, former ambassador to the Tirrith assembly of the League. When the summons came he didn't have to read the attached video report to understand that war had arrived on the Brakiri doorstep. He had argued in favour of helping the Abbai months ago when all this started, and now his own people were facing Dilgar aggression. He stormed up the stone steps and entered the building housing the Brakiri style of government, an assembly of the CEO's of the two hundred largest corporations on Brakir. It was an ancient and stratified mode of government which had served well in the past but its own view of enlightened self interest had proven to be its downfall in this matter. Brocat could only hope it wasn't a literal downfall which awaited them all.

"Honoured business colleagues," the speaker had already begun as Brocat took his seat near the front of the chamber, his personal wealth and success in the mining industry giving him huge influence. "We are at war with the Dilgar."

The room erupted in a muffled roar of exclamation and accusation, Brocat merely sat still and said nothing. He'd seen this coming and was grateful the military commanders had too.

"We have planned for this!" The Speaker yelled over the room. "Already our fleets are fighting them on the border at Comac, they are holding them steady and preparing to counter attack!"

That made Brocat pay a little more attention. He knew the military had a contingency plan but not that it had been put into place so fast, especially with the recent arguments between the military corporations. Naturally he couldn't believe how well they were doing against an enemy as skilled as the Dilgar but at least they had not been caught flat footed.

The door at the back of the room burst open and an exhausted aide staggered forward, it looked like he had run across the whole city though in truth it had just been the neighbouring building. "The Dilgar…" he gasped. "They're across the border!"

He received a number of superior looks from the assembled diectors. "Yes, we know." One of them said with a syrup like voice. "We are fighting them at Comac."

"Comac?" the man winced. "No, they're over the border at Ekalta!"

"You should get your facts straight." The director began but was interrupted by Brocat standing up.

"What have you heard about Ekalta? Speak quickly."

"A Dilgar fleet crossed the border a couple of hours ago, we ad next to nothing in the system, our guard fleets all went to Comac." He relayed his story. "We received a distress signal and some sensor information, then it all went black."

The room was suddenly completely silent, with Ekalta gone the Dilgar had a clear path to the homeworld itself. Disturbing as that was it was even more worrying to the assembled leaders because virtually the entire home defence fleet was at Comac getting pinned down by a feint attack.

"They tricked us." Brocat shook his head. "It was all an elaborate bluff."

"No." Brocat's fellow ambassador Alri Norila said forcefully. "It isn't a trick, intelligence confirms the attack on Comac is being led by Warmaster Jha'dur herself! It must be a real attack!"

"It's a bluff." Brocat repeated. "What are we going to do?"

"They wouldn't have their best commander lead a feint!"

Brocat spun on Norila with a snarl. "Well they just did! They probably sent their best because they knew it would make the trap juicier for us, and we wandered right into it!"

"But Jha'dur…."

"She is a Warmaster and obeys her orders, hell she probably came up with the plan!" Brocat grimaced. "Comets tail, we've been out done on this one."

"We need the fleet back here." The Speaker announced.

"And abandon Comac?" a politician shouted. "My firm has major holdings on Comac, it must be defended!"

"Not at the expense of homeworld." Norila's sense of self preservation kicked in. "Get the ships back!"

"It isn't that easy though." Brocat found himself remaining calm and easily accepting the unfolding disaster. "The fleet has to disengage itself from the Dilgar first, if they run they'll be cut to pieces."

"Well they need to get back here, were helpless!" Norila yelled.

"If I were you representative, I'd get my affairs in order." Brocat looked to him and the now eerily silent hall. He had the right to tell them all he had predicted this war and more preparations should have been taken to defend themselves, but it was pointless now and far too late. "And perhaps say a prayer to the ancestors that you die in the bombardment and not the invasion itself."

Comac system.

The day was going rather well for Jha'dur, despite nuisance attacks from Brakiri fighters her fleet was more or less intact and fighter losses were lighter than expected. The Brakiri were still argueing over the best way to attack and their formidable force was wasting away before her eyes. She would enjoy destroying it when the moment arrived.

"Warmaster, incoming transmission." An'jash informed her. "Highest priority."

"Let me see it." She ordered, and was immediately glad to see the familiar face of her brother. "Warmaster Sha'dur, you bring good news?"

"Very good Sister." He beamed. "The line is breached and we are ready to move to the Brakos system itself."

"Outstanding." She grinned. "Losses?"

"Virtually none." The fellow Warmaster stated. "We move with our full force."

"Understand, proceed at once and level the Brakiri homeworld, I will make sure this fleet resembles nothing more than scattered rabble limping home."

"Just in time to see my ships turning their ball of dust into a wasteland." Sha'dur considered the idea with particular satisfaction.

"It's already a wasteland." Jha'dur snarled. "No use for our people, sooner or later the Brakiri would turn it to lifeless desert anyway, just help them along."

"A pleasure." He nodded. "See you at Brakos."

"All in good time." Jha'dur returned the acknowledgement. "Good luck, and watch out for surprises."

"I still have your lectures ringing in my ears." He chuckled. "Victory."

"Victory." She repeated, then ended the transmission. "Well that went rather well."

"The Brakiri are doomed." An'jash observed.

"Only if we make it happen." The Warmaster added. "We've kept them busy long enough, now lets finish it. Form up the fleet in loose Pentacan formations, don't bunch together and stay mobile. We're faster and more agile than the Brakiri, use that advantage."

"Issuing orders."

"Concentrate on the far Brakiri flank." Jha'dur directed. "Take out the carriers first." She smiled coldly. If only the Brakiri had put aside their differences and embraced combined arms they might just have made this battle difficult.

Brakiri fleet.

The ships on both sides of the _Anarel_ were stripped of their heavy guns and heavily damaged on the surface. The Dilgar fighters had made good their opportunity and many of the most powerful ships in the fleet were disarmed and little more than mobile shields for the still operational vessels. Commander Rolan's ship was also looking in a poor state with numerous hull breaches and damage to the targeting systems, fleet command had ordered a closer defensive formation which had helped for a while but the Dilgar pilots were getting bold again, sweeping in despite the intense defensive fire. It was reaching the point where destroying the Dilgar fighters meant shooting so close to the neighbouring ship there was more chance of hitting it that the offending Thorun. After the mounting damage fleet command considered this acceptable.

"They're on the move." Remik warned.

"The main fleet?" Rolan asked, keeping his nerves well buried.

"Confirmed, they're going for the carriers."

The Brakiri were rightfully prideful of their carriers, one of the few races who built very large ships from the ground up with the sole purpose of moving smaller craft into battle. The primary large carrier was called the _Deveskar_ class and performed very well in its given role, however without its fighters and without adequate warship escort these great ships were extremely vulnerable, a position they suddenly found themselves in as the Dilgar line dispersed like a black cloud and began advancing their way. Immediate distress calls filled the airwaves as the carriers began to retreat, their few light escorts offering battle to the Dilgar with little hope of survival.

"They're going to get massacred." Rolan observed darkly.

"They want our help." Remik added. "But after they refused to help us I'll be surprised if the Admiral sends us into battle for them."

In the distance tiny lights showed the Dilgar fleet opening fire, the distant light show giving no hint at the true violence going on far out there. Corporate policies had always angered Rolan but before now the great companies had at least set aside their differences in the service of their people. The recent scandal had been so great it had split them at the hour when they most needed cooperation. As he thought about it more it seemed the timing was more than just coincidence, the evidence and accusations probably originated from the Dilgar. His growing anger was truncated by officer Remik.

"We're ordered to attack!" he said with half joy and half terror. "The fleet will close on the Dilgar flank and relieve the carriers!"

"That'll do." Rolan gave a menacing grin, relieved to be able to do something more than sit tight and endure the attacks. "Bring engines online, weapons status?"

"Main weapons operational." Remik checked his console. "Some damage to coolant systems but we should be fine."

"Lock on to the nearest ship, hold our formation and hope we finally get some fighter cover."

The closest _Deveskar_ class carrier fell apart with just a few seconds concentrated fire, its own weapons barely touching the _Deathwalker_. Jha'dur normally preferred to stay outside the actual battle but she simply could not resist testing her new flagship and so far it was performing admirably. Its crew were veteran warriors made up from those ships damaged and destroyed in battle, men and women who had not died with their comrades and as a result had something to prove. The Dilgar demanded death or victory and Jha'dur's crew had neither which made them incredibly motivated. The Brakiri flank was crumbling when the tactical systems alerted her to the change in battle.

"Ahh, I was hoping they'd make a move." Jha'dur focused on the Brakiri warships altering course and assuming an attack position. "I believed they'd either run or hold position, but now they attack. For that I respect them."

Captain An'jash made no comment, she respected only other Dilgar. "Orders Warmaster?"

"First fleet will continue to engage the carriers, we will deal with the main fleet itself." Jha'dur felt her blood rising from her heart at the concept of a real battle. "Bring us about, fourth fleet will lead, second and third will try and turn their planet side flank. We'll take them straight down the middle and give them something to shoot at while every one else positions."

Jha'dur leaned a little as the dreadnought spun around to face the new threat, her strike fleet disengaging from the battle with instant speed and precision which gave her a feeling of pride. Her ships were drilled to perfection and could execute any action in the book with total practiced skill. They formed a jagged line and completely ignored the carriers and escorts now behind them, a portion of the Warmasters fllet proving quite sufficient to destroy them. The force ahead wa smore concerning, in pure numbers they out numbered the Dilgar but after the constant fighter strikes many Brakiri cruisers were operating below combat effectiveness with a number of weapons disabled. In real terms the Dilgar had more weapons than the Brakiri despite inferior numbers and Jha'dur was hoping to surround the enemy fleet and bury it in fire and wreckage.

"Enemy are firing." An'jash said, and moments later three of the leading warships detonated under intense fire, their armour punched through by Brakiri weapons. Jha'dur held a calm expression but inside was grimacing. She'd predicted wha Brakiri weapons could do to her ships, but just because it was expected didn't make it any less painful to watch.

"Return fire once we reach range."

It took another volley from the Brakiri and a few more losses before the Dilgar entered effective range, at that point the line opened fire in unison and drenched the Brakiri in energy weapons. The attack was not as terrible as it could have been, the heavy Brakiri armour served them well and many ships survived the strike, but many did not and newly broken wrecks blocked the path of the second wave, forcing them around the black corpses of their sister ships.

"Close the range." Jha'dur spoke quietly. "I want our ships in and amongst the Brakiri, like Leopards amid a herd."

The Dilgar cruisers did not slow down, they took a further two volleys of Brakiri fire answering at a faster rate with their own guns and then reached the battle lines. More than one damaged Dilgar ship ploughed into the bow of a Brakiri cruiser in titanic explosions while the rest used their agility and smaller size to weave between the rigid lines of warships. Jha'dur's heavy escorts led the way tearing holes in the flanks of the Brakiri cruisers and ripping away the tall fins and flowing gun ports. The heavy Brakiri weapons were fixed forward and once the Dilgar were inside the formation it became very hard for them to be targeted, and with the agility advantage only an incompetant Captain wuld allow a Brakiri to track and lock on to him, in which case he got what he deserved.

"Flanking forces moving into position." An'jash reported.

"Very well." The Warmaster nodded. "Make sure this battle sends a message to the League loud and clear. We will not be beaten."

Rolan slid across the floor as the _Anarel_ was physically pushed sideways by a laser hit, he could imagine the red beam tracing a black scar on his ship bursting windows and emptying out the atmosphere and crew in a gush of fire. It left him angry and helpless. "Return fire!"

"Trying Commander!" Remik yelled. "Its hard to get a clean shot!"

To emphasise his point a Dilgar destroy flashed past the bow, the slow arming Brakiri Gravitic lances weren't even ready to fire yet, and the enemy ship put another volley of fire into the weakened hull. The ship groaned and protested, the structure was buckling and couldn't take a whole lot more punishment. She shuddered as the guns finally spoke, clipping a Dilgar cruiser but inflicting disappointingly little damage. Thorun fighters were still harassing them but it all seemed far less important now the two sets of warships had joined battle, and Rolan wanted to do his part.

"This isn't good." Remik said. "I think there are Dilgar ships between us and the planet."

"Can you get confirmation?"

The entire ship jolted, lights blacked out and an ear splitting roar deafened the bridge crew. Rolan found himself sprawled on the floor pushed down by crippling G forces as the ship seemed to tear itself apart around him in the blackness. His heart was beating so fast it actually hurt and the blackness coupled with the roar of breaking metal sent his every sense into free fall. It took a full ten seconds for him to notice the sound had stopped and the ship was recovering. Computers blinked back on and shortly after so did the lights. "What the hell?" he spluttered.

"We got hit from the flanks, the Dilgar are on both sides of the fleet and ahead." Remik coughed a little, the air was tasting coppery due to fires amidst the bridges circuits. "Port guns are gone, totally destroyed. Engines at twenty percent capacity, I'd guess we've lost most of our drive system and fins."

The _Anarel _must have looked a truly sad sight from the outside, it looked bad enough on the bridge with walls blackened and a structural support bisecting the room. "Can we still fight?" the Commander asked.

"Only if the Dilgar stop long enough for us to hit something." Which wasn't likely to happen.

"What's wrong with the sensors?" Rolan noticed. "We're not getting more than short rangs scans?"

"That's what's wrong sir." Remik pointed to the visual display, it was a solid image of fractured Brakiri ships. "That volley which hit us wiped out everything around us. I guess the wrecks gave us sort of a shield. Poor guys."

Coming face to face with so many destroyed ships tripped something in Rolan. He knew right then that the battle was lost. "What about jump engines?"

"They got pretty shook up, it'll be a risk activating them." Jump engines were notoriously delicate and even a slight inbalance within the system could be devastating when the extreme energies needed for vortex creation were channelled though them, battle damage to the engeines usually meant a vessel would have to use a fixed gate or gamble with the lives of its crew.

"Bring them up to full charge, be ready to get out of here if…"

"Priority message." Remik suddenly received a signal on his shattered console, Rolan already knew what it would say. "It's a withdraw order! Straight from the Admiral!"

Commander Rolan's relief was palpable. "Can we make the gate?"

"I really don't think so, about four hundred Dilgar ships in the way."

"Then I guess we'll have to risk the jump engines." He spoke with false calm. "Get us some distance and make ready."

The _Anarel_ moved labouriously away from the wreckage of its fellow ships, debris banging against its hull along the way. The Brakiri fleet was splitting up so the jump points they opened would not interfere with each other, opening a jump point right on top of another was usually a very bad thing. As the fleet dispersed the Dilgar pressed the attack, isolating and destroy ships unlucky enough to be too close to their lines. Thorun fighters strafed the engines and power relays to try and disrupt the escape and long range fire lashed the green warships. Jump points sprang open removing five Dilgar warships too slow or stubborn to clear the way, the vast energies tearing through the warships with no hinderance. Unfortunately a number of Brakiri ships had been unable to properly contain the energies and bright explosions dotted space between the fleet as wounded ships failed in their gamble.

"Jump engines powered up." Officer Remik spoke with intense apprehension. After seeing ships with less damage lose containment of the jump engines he wasn't holding out much hope. "Activating now." He closed his eyes tight shut and activated the control.

The lights flickered as power was shunted through the ship, suddenly a power line sparked and ruptured at the rear of the bridge spraying electrical energy for a moment before emergency systems shut it down. Then, incredibly, a jump point flared open in front of them. With a sense of relief that could not be put into words Commander Rolan bowed over almost double and thanked his deities while the ship transitioned out of the Comac system, leaving it to the desires of the Dilgar. He didn't even have space in his mind to consider what they would do to the colony, he was just so happy to be out of there. He knew it was unspeakably selfish but at this exact moment he did not care. He just did not care.

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

"A number of ships are making the jump to hyperspace Warmaster."

"I can see that Captain." Jha'dur said with a hint of amusement, the sort of attitude people displayed when they knew something you didn't. "Deploy second fleet to finish off stragglers and damaged ships, then take us into orbit and prepare a full scale bombardment."

"And the escaping ships?" An'jash asked.

"Already covered Captain." She smiled. "I doubt very many of them will reach Brakir."

As the main Dilgar battle fleet moved to finish off the now undefended colony a second far smaller fleet sat in hyperspace just off the beacon, ten missile cruisers of the _Athraskala_ class had placed themselves on the main pathway between Comac and Brakir blocking the route the fleeing Brakiri ships must take. The massed Brakiri force had no formation and no preparation for this surprise fleet and the first missiles detonated without interception or warning. In hyperspace the explosions were magnified by the bizarre physics of the realm and the nuclear tipped weapons shredded the first dozen Brakiri ships. More and more missiles saturated the formation, a carrier was bent in two by an intense gravitic wave created by an explosion, a tall _Avioki_ was holed in a thousand places by debris hurled from a neighbouring ship as its power grid ripped it apart. The Brakiri fleet was caught in a confused and devastating situation they had never even considered, fighting in hyperspace had always been regarded as suicide which indeed it was, it was simply that the Dilgar didn't care.

Beside the _Anarel_ a sister cruiser took evasive action, moving off beacon to try and slip around the flank of the Dilgar. Without warning it ran into a gravitic incline and was pulled with shocking speed sideways like a great giant had roped it and pulled the ship away into the maelstrom. It vanished amid the swirls and red mists beyond hope and any chance of help.

"Main batteries!" Rolan yelled overcoming his shock. "Open fire!"

The one remaining cannon fired, its lance of energy managing to strike one of the unmoving misile ships and tearing it apart, the explosion in hyperspace blossoming in a bizarre pattern as the pull of gravity shifted and contorted the swirling plasma and briefly burning atmosphere. Other ships in the Brakiri fleet were also beginning to recover from the shock and fire, but the constant explosions of Dilgar missiles were causing ferocious damage. Finally enough ships coordinated fire to bring down the missile cruisers, the last one losing its main power and drifting away, the Brakiri didn't bother finishing it and instead left the Dilgar vessel to its slow death in the intractacble void of hyperspace.

"Damage report?"

"Minimal, the attack missed us." Remik informed the Commander. "But the rest of the fleet…" he tailed off.

Rolan checked the sensor read outs and was aghast at the data streaming through, whole squadrons of warships had been annihilated in the sudden attack, in little over a minute scores of ships had died and more were heavily damaged and unable to keep on the beacon. Shattered wrecks were slowly carried away into the distance as the surviving vessels focused on trying to secure the unpowered members of the fleet with survivors onboard before they too disappeared. "Take us to the nearest ship, we need to try and find survivors." Rolan ordered not sure exactly how they were going to evacuate a whole ships crew in time without getting lost themselves. "We have to try and do something!"

The helm officer moved the _Anarel _as far from the beacon as he dared, acutely aware of the gravitational eddies and currents outside the safely mapped hyperspace paths and the fatal consequences of getting caught in one. The Dilgar had out thought the Brakiri fleet and willingly sacrificed a group of ships in order to do terrific damage to their opponents. The retreat had become a complete routand in the course of a few hours the mighty Brakiri navy had been divided and then destroyed. It was a deep shock for the officers of the fleet who considered themselves a true professional force, the Dilgar had identified a weakness not in the ships or crews but in Brakiri society itself and with unheard of foresight turned that to their tactical advantage. It was a sobering realisation for the survivors and a harsh lesson in the reality of total war.

Brakir.

The entire hall of government were sat or stood in utter silence as a military attaché received a message on his earpiece. He was nodding slowly as he listened in to the report and gave nothing away by his expression. Brocat was fearing the worst, the Dilgar were the most skilled fighters in known space and even though the Brakiri fleets were mighty they had a divided command structure which any half competent commander would exploit. With Ekalta gone and Comac in the process of being abandoned the government was making plans to form every ship they had in orbit above the homeworld and prepare as strong a defence as they could. They had little in the way of orbital weapons or satellites, certainly nothing approaching the scale of the Abbai defences which had proven only just adequate enough to halt the Dilgar, instead they had to put their faith in the navy and hope it extracted itself more or less intact from Comac.

"Well?" the speaker demanded, to which the attaché just raised his hand as a way of asking for pause while he continued listening to the report. The air was just so intense a number of older members of the Krona were in danger of collapsing or suffering heart problems. The usual hot dry air of the city seemed even more harsh than normal and brocat desperately wanted a drink, but not before hearing the news.

The Attache finally turned to face the room and removed his ear piece. "Honoured executives, our fleet was able to disengage from Comoc however…"

There was a sudden wave of cheers as soon as he said 'disengaged' which drowned out the rest of his speech. Brocat however did not cheer, from the look on the attache's face he knew the other boot was about to drop.

"However." The military man spoke above the noise. "Our ships were ambushed in hyperspace and suffered severe casualties."

All celebrations suddenly died a quick death. Even in the desert climate the room turned to ice. "You have numbers?" the Speaker asked quietly, his voice still heard right at the back of the silent chamber.

"Not yet, but we estimate two thirds of our forces have been destroyed in battle. The survivors are heavily damaged and making their way here."

"What about the Dilgar?" Brocat asked. "Are they following?"

"Not yet, they are securing Comac." Which meant bombing it. "However the Ekalta force appears to be gathering for a direct assault on us here."

"How long?" the speaker spoke gravely.

"Within a week."

The room gasped and murmured, the chances of them repairing the ships from Comac in that time were virtually zero. With such heavy losses and the weak nature of the planetary defences they weren't going to stand a chance against the Dilgar invasion fleets.

"We must speak with our allies!" Norila called. "The Vree, the Hyach, the Markab, even Earth!"

"They will not come." Brocat stated coldly. "Nobody will come. Just the Dilgar."

"Can our fleet stop them?" the Speaker questioned the attache with a hint of desperation. The officer did not speak, merely shook his head slowly.

"No." Norila shouted. "I refuse to believe this is the end of the Brakiri!"

"Believe what you will." Brocat didn't look at him as he spoke. "But unless we have a miracle in the next week this world will burn, and all of us with it."

Brakiri legend warned that their lives would end the day the fabled Deathwalker arrived in the skies above, perhaps prophecy would be realised after all.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 28

City of Dublin, Ireland  
Earth Alliance

"You owe me ten credits." Francis O'Leary beamed at his friend Dermot. "You should've known better!"  
Dermot reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coloured coin, dropping it on the desk. "Don't you ever get sick of yourself?"  
"Grapes a little on the sour side?" Francis teased. "Come on, the Earth stock exchange was easy!"  
The two young men were sat in a small café in one of Dublins ancient streets nestled amid the relatively calm metropolis. The café had been born centuries ago as an old internet venue where people could surf the world wide web without needing a home computer, as technology evolved so too did this establishment now offering the latest communications systems and access to the galaxy net, successor to the world wide web. They were in a corner of the room and at this time of day there were only five other patrons all well spread out.  
"Fine, maybe I'm a little slow for thinking that the stock exchange central computer would have provided a hard challenge to hack into." Dermot grumbled. "You're only showing off because that girl keeps looking at you."  
"That is not true!" he answered quickly, annoyed his friend had spotted the truth. "I just think a fool and his money should always be parted."  
He quickly closed down his connection, he had no desire to actually do anything with his access to the stock exchange, he wasn't some anarchist or malicious hacker wanting to bring down society, it was just the thrill and the challenge of proving that he actually could beat the defences. And more than a little of it was to impress the young raven haired woman two screens away. While he was obviously trying to play it cool he kept throwing glances her way and noticed that with increasing regularity she would look over to him. It had brought out the show off in him.  
"Don't look." Dermot whispered. "But she's on her way over."  
Francis froze solid, acutely aware that his body temperature just shot up ten degrees. His head was held rigidly pointing at the screen and keyboard and he did nothing until the young woman spoke.  
"Hi there." She said with a smile.  
"Oh hey," Francis looked up at her, praying he wasn't flushed pink. "How are you?"  
"Pretty good." She answered, he couldn't quite place her accent but it wasn't local. "I just caught a look at your screen and wondered what you were doing?"  
"What him?" Dermot cut in. "Nothing."  
"Because it looked you were slicing into a major commercial computer system." The young lady said. Again Francis froze, managing a thin smile. "Which is pretty cool." The very attractive girl smiled, and Francis actually exhaled in relief.  
"Oh well yeah it is." He chuckled. "I thought you were the police for a second!"  
"Ah come on." She said mischieviously. "You ever seen a police officer this good looking?"  
Francis had absolutely nothing in his seventeen year experience which could even start to answer that. "No." he managed weakly.  
"So you looked like you got in pretty easy." She pulled up a chair beside him, a slight floral scent accompanied her which Francis guessed was perfume. She looked a little older than him, possible a university student from a different city. It would explain the accent. "How did you do it?"  
"Ahh, that's the secret." Dermot said. "He won't even tell me how he…"  
"It's all in this box." Francis blurted. "Just here." He pointed to an assuming black plastic box attached to the side of his terminal.  
"Five years and you never told me that!" Dermot fumed, shooting a harsh glance at the pretty girl. "Doesn't take much to turn your head! Stupid hormones."  
"What does it do?" the girl asked oblivious to Dermot's comment.  
"Everything, first of all it prevents this line being traced." Francis said with enthusiasm. "Secondly it tells me exactly what sort of encription pattern the target system uses, and that in turn allows me to predict how the code will change and slip in."  
"So the box doesn't do all the work?" she said. "You're still the one who finally breaks in?"  
"That's right." He smiled. "It's a gift, my tutors don't know I do this but they know I have a natural talent for numbers. Figure it'll make me a lot of money one day."  
"Especially if you hack into a bank and give yourself a million credits." The girl suggested.  
"Oh no, no I can't do that." Francis shook his head. "Well I could, but I won't. That money belongs to someone and I'm no thief, I just like to know that I can."  
The girl looked at him for a little while. "My name is Jennifer."  
"Francis." He smiled to her. "You're not from around here?"  
"Just passing through." She smiled. "So you like a challenge?"  
"Very much."  
"What's the most secure system you've beaten?" she asked.  
"Hmmm." Francis thought for a while. "Probably the Earth Alliance Treasury department, where they keep all the tax records."  
"That's pretty serious." Jennifer nodded. "I read the best protected system is the EIA central computer."  
"No kidding!" Francis chortled. "Completely unbeatable. They have a totally isolated data core, you can't hack in because you would have to be actually in the same room as it to try."  
"Wow, guess that is secure." She raised an eyebrow. "What about the military?"  
"Much the same from what I've read. Planetary defence grid, fleet order system, battle net." He listed off the main use of computer controls. "Even the datalinks between warships are only on for a fraction of a second at a time, just long enough to receive burst orders."  
"But what about non frontline systems?" she asked. "Like payroll, or personnel files?"  
Francis paused. "Well, maybe."  
"Frank, I wouldn't." Dermot said. "The military have better computers than the stock exchange, they might beat the box."  
"They can't beat the box." Francis scoffed. "You want to see inside the Earth force main net?" he asked Jennifer.  
"Yeah, I really do." She flashed a dazzling smile. "But only if you can do it."  
"No problem." He began typing quickly. "lets see what we're up against."  
"Look Frank, this is a mistake, you shouldn't mess with the military." Dermot persisted. "You heard about that guy in Canada?"  
"What guy?" Jennifer wondered.  
"He tried to crack the Earth force system, apparently he actually managed it and got into everything, fleet deployments, budget, he even had access to the satellite defence grid."  
"Come on Dom, you now that's crap." Francis was typing with hectic speed and total concentration. "It's impossible."  
"Yeah well this guy supposedly did it." Dermot continued. "Anyway he's real happy with himself, then BOOM!" he clapped his hands, not noticing that the sudden noise which startled most people didn't even cause Jennifer to blink. "His house gets wiped out. Officially a prototype cruise missile malfunctioned and accidently struck his house, but we all know that when the government found its system hacked they took measures to silence this guy."  
"Wow." Jennifer said in awe. "And you got proof for this?"  
"Proof?" Dermot frowned.  
"Yeah you know, the stuff that makes the difference between factual stories and bull?"  
"Well, I mean the government covered it up." Dermot said hastily.  
"How do you cover up a fifty foot hole in the ground?" Jennifer giggled. "You'r emaking this up!"  
"I am not!" Dermot said defensively. "Right now the orbital defence grid is locking on, I can see tomorrows headline, 'Poor students killed in accidental satellite misfire.' Mark my words."  
"You're so full of crap some times!" Francis grinned. "Hey, there we go." The screen was suddenly filled with rotating rows of numbers. "That's the code."  
"That looks really complicated." Jennifer squinted.  
"Oh it is, but it all follows a pattern. All I have to do is spot the pattern and jump ahead." He stared intensely at the screen for a minute, though it could have been an eternity for the people watching. Then he rapidly typed in a sequence of numbers then pressed enter. An instant later the numbers disappeared and a basic interface was revealed. "Voila."  
"This is it?" Jennifer said with a smile. "Earth force central index?"  
"Yep, but only the second line functions." Francis explained. "The actual military systems are beyond hackable."  
"That satellite is firing." Dermot grumbled.  
"Whu don't you go get us all a coffee?" Francis suggested. "Go on, here." He handed back the ten credits. "That should just cover three Coffees."  
The friend grunted then got up and went for the bar. Jennifer smiled and nodded at the screen. "That's real impressive."  
"Thanks." Francis smiled impossibly wide. "What do you want to look at?"  
"They can't trace us?"  
"They won't even know we're here." He said confidently.  
"Cool, let's look at personnel records." She said. "Like a general."  
With a few taps of the keyboard he entered the records storage and came up with a vast alphabetical list of every member of Earth force. "Damn that's a big list."  
"Lots of little soldiers out there." The girl stated. "Can I pick one?"  
"Sure, go ahead." Francis leaned back. "What do you fancy?" he hinted subtley.  
She leaned past him to get closer to the screen, moving much closer to him and near enough s they were almost touching. This was turning into a very entertaining day. "That one." She clicked a link.  
"I see this soldier shares your first name." Francis remarked as the file opened. "Want to see a picture?"  
"Yeah." Jennifer leaned back again. "I really think you should open the picture."  
"Alright then." He found the control and opened it. "Well then Commander Jennifer Sakai, what do you look like?"  
The image of a young raven haired woman blinked up on screen, it could have been a mirror reflection of the girl sat next to him. "Wow, you two really look alike, is she a relation or…" finally his brain got the message. "Oh hell no."  
"Oh hell yes." The girl beside him said.  
"This isn't happening."  
"I think the word you are looking for is 'Busted.'"  
Francis had no idea what to say, so just dropped his head on the desk. His parents were going to kill him.

Brakir  
Homeworld of the Brakiri

Paul Calendar watched hyperspace morphing around the small convoy through the windows of the observation deck. Most Earth built warships didn't have windows and their hulls tended to be just pure slabs of armour, though some of the older designs still had the occaisional viewing port to give the crew something to look at besides bulk heads. Still the ship he was on right now wouldn't strictly be considered a ship of war by most people in the Earth Alliance military and so one or two windows didn't matter all that much.  
"We're coming up on the gate." The voice belonging to Leo Vinetti announced. "Turned out okay didn't it?"  
Paul shrugged in answer. The trip had been uneventful, not even raiders had taken a chance on them even though a shipment of weapons would be a hugely tempting target. Of course none of that surprised Paul, he knew the real danger and consequently the reason for his exorbitant fee would emerge when they dropped into League space proper and entered Brakiri orbit.  
"We'll need a couple of hours to unload, then we can head back for Earth." Vinetti continued. "A cake run, all these ships provided good insurance."  
Which again was only true so far. Twelve well armed Belt Alliance escort ships would make raiders and small militaries back off, but if they ran into the Dilgar it would still be a lot like shooting fish in a barrel. Paul still wasn't sure why he'd picked this assignment in the first place. Both Jors and Toby had initially been slightly in favour of coming with him, but the risks had proven too great and they had decided to stay home and work on the still damaged _Space Race._ Paul didn't blame them, but when they tried to convince him to also stay he refused siting the contract was too good to tun down. It was certainly a good contract, but perhaps not as good as he'd prefer to believe.  
"Well I guess we're being paid for the job huh?" Paul said with a glance. "Maybe I was wrong."  
"Easy money." Vinetti grinned, then held onto a nearby cord as the ship began the transition from hyperspace. The tunnel opened up in front of the Belt Alliance convoy with the distant orb of Brakir itself just visible in the distance. The first thing Paul noticed was a huge build up of traffic on the far side of the gate, the convoy had to take a sudden turn to avoid running into an ungainly looking transport ship.  
Vinetti swore loudly as the ship turned sharply. "Haven't they heard of traffic control!"  
Paul was forcibly trying not to laugh, not out of amusement but because that was the only reaction his shortwiring brain could manage. "Here we go again."  
"Huh?" Vinetti frowned.  
"Refugees Mr Vinetti." Paul said with enthusiasm. "Refugees. They won't really care about traffic control, just running away."  
"Refugees? From where?"  
"Yes Mr Vinetti, for the third time, Refugees." Paul spoke as if to a child. "My guess is they're fleeing something big, wanna put some money on what that could be?"  
Vinetti's eyes grew wider as he put all the pieces in place. "An invasion?"  
"Bingo." Paul smiled. "Now I suggest we get the hell out of here."  
"Yeah…" Vinetti said absently, his words separate from his thoughts. He wasn't a telepath but Paul guessed Vinetti's head was filled with Dilgar battleships "I better get up to the bridge and see what's happening."  
"Yeah, you go do that." Paul encouraged. "And then we should really run away, you don't want to meet the Dilgar."  
"Right, yeah." Vinetti was still distracted. "I'll be back."  
Paul returned his attention to the window as the businessman left. The scene was becoming depressingly familiar as the gunship he was on slid into orbit alongside the convoy it was escorting, just another two dozen vessels amid what seemed like thousands. He was able to spot a few warships in the distance but most vessels seemed civilian in nature and all were loading up with shuttles from the planet. Utriel, Ssumssha, Tirrith and now Brakir, all planets gripped in panic and full of people trying to run from the coming maelstrom. Most of them didn't have a chance of escape and looking at how sparse the defences were they didn't have much chance of survival either. He felt pity for them, but mostly he felt an empty darkness growing inside at the thought of the Dilgar heading this way. It was an intense and primal sensation.  
"Paul?" a communication panel on a nearby wall buzzed to life. "You still there?"  
"Still here Mr Vinetti."  
"Its true, planetary aerospace control just told us their colonies fell this morning. The Dilgar are heading this way."  
"Of course they are." He grumbled. "Couldn't wait just five hours could they?"  
"I asked what they were doing and the guy was a little coy." Vinetti continued. "I think their ships took a real pasting. They aren't going to have much left to stop the Dilgar conquering this place."  
Which left the Brakiri with two fates, either the Dilgar would enslave them like they did at Tirrith, or exterminate them like they did at Utriel. Not much of a choice. "There isn't a whole lot we can do." Paul said. "Maybe offer to take some refugees back on our transports?"  
"Sounds fair, I mean it's the least we can do right?" Vinetti replied. "I'll arrange for the drop then we can get out of here."  
The transmission ended, and Paul returned to observing the scene outside. It was chaos, and compared to the ordered nature of the Abbai planetary defences seemed to be a real bad portent. The Brakiri were going to have a rough time coming up.

Three hours later Paul was floating into the command room of the gunship, one of the _Vindicator_ class it was roughly equal to a light cruiser in terms of firepower and protection, something which the more reactionary Earth Alliance senators had suffered a small fit over. The Earth Force joint chiefs were however less concerned, even the biggest Belt Alliance escorts were still no match for a dedicated Naval ship and they were happy to let the BA run its own escorts, saved the military having to put its own ships on escort duty. The small bridge was focused on Mr Vinetti and the vessels commander hovering by a communication terminal.  
"You wanted me?"  
"Hey Paul, we got a little trouble." Vinetti waved him over. "I thought with you being the League expert you could help."  
Paul made his way forward and hooked his boots into a fabric stirrup on the floor, like all human ships the gunship was lacking in gravity. Only Earth Force one and a very small number of incredibly expensive space liners used rotational sections as part of their hulls to simulate gravity, as a rule most humans just learned to live with weightlessness and for veteran freight runners or warship crew zero G became like second nature. Captain Grozny made space for him and Paul was greeted by the annoyed and very stressed looking face of a Brakiri military officer on the view screen attached to the communication console.  
"What's the problem?" he asked Vinetti.  
"This guy won't give us clearence to leave."  
Paul turned to the screen and put on a genial expression. "Brakiri control, this is Belt Alliance ship _Guardian_ requesting permission to exit the jump gate."  
"And as I told your colleague, it is denied." The officer returned angrily.  
"It might not be wise to hold us here!" Vinetti chipped in.  
"Please boss, let me handle it." Paul edged him back, the man was clearly anxious not to be here when the Dilgar arrived. "We're a neutral party, if you are holding us here without good reason it will sour relations with the Earth Alliance."  
"Perhaps." The officer said dismissively.  
"Well considering we just brought you enough guns to take over a planet I'd say human friendship is quite useful to you, especially now you're in a war and you'll be wanting more and more weapons."  
"We appreciate the assault rifles, but they won't stop a planetary bombardment." The officer spat. "Now if Earth had sold us Warships like we asked…"  
"Hold on there," Paul cut in. "We don't make policy, we aren't part of the government. We just want to head on home now we've risked our butts bringing you guns."  
"Yes, how very noble of you to risk your lives for the huge amount of money my superiors are paying you."  
Paul grimaced, so much for the moral high ground. "This isn't our war."  
"No, but when the Dilgar arrive and begin indiscriminately killing everything that moves perhaps then it will become your war?"  
"Now wait a minute!" Vinetti shouted. "You open that gate or…"  
"Boss, Please!" Paul stated firmly. "I'm on it." He then returned his attention to the officer. "You know this is higly illegal."  
"Somehow the letter of the law doesn't matter much with a Dilgar fleet heading our way." The Brakiri officer stated. "These are desperate times."  
No kidding, Paul thought. "The Earth Alliance won't be happy."  
"Good, let them send a fleet to escort you away." The officer said. "Anything which brings warships into orbit will help us. We need every ship with a weapon to protect this world, ours and yours. Frankly I wish there was another way, but we need to defend our world from annihilation! What can you say which will make me go against that?"  
"Not a thing." Paul admitted. "This convoy that brought the weapons, ten of the ships are just civilian freighters, We're letting them take on refugees. Will you let them leave?"  
"We will." The officer nodded. "The gate is being used to let civilians out, send your ships but we cannot let your escorts go. If you make for the gate we will fire on you."  
"We understand." Paul looked to Vinetti who was on the brink of screaming. "Good luck with the defence, _Guardian _out,"  
"What the hell was that!" Vinetti exploded. "You were supposed to get us out!"  
"Moses himself couldn't lead us out of this crap-fest!" Paul snapped back. "Did you hear that guy? They are so short on ships they are forcibly keeping any armed vessel here! That means us!"  
"But that's wrong!"  
"They don't care boss." Paul explained. "Its Armageddon for these guys, and we just got ourselves a ring side seat. How's that danger money looking now?"  
"We need to go!" Vinetti chose to ignore him. "Sneak through the gate!"  
"The gate is guarded by gun satellites." Paul sighed. "We'd be dead before we got close. They're only letting the freighters and refugees go."  
Vinetti's expression suddenly changed. "Well maybe I should transfer over to one of those ships, let the company know whats happening?"  
"Oh no way!" Paul laughed. "You ain't going nowhere. You got us all into this and you are damn well going to pay for it with the rest of us."  
"I'm not a fighter!"  
Paul leaned closer. "Learn. The Dilgar are good teachers to learn from."  
"Oh no, no no no." Vinetti moved back wards for the door and Paul decided to ignore him from this point on.  
"So what we got Captain?"   
Grozny spoke with curt professionalism, a former Earth Force officer he was one of the better Belt Alliance commanders. "We have two _Vindicators_ and eight _Harrier_ gunships, plus two standard carriers." He listed. "Gives us three Delta Squadrons and one Starfox squadron all told."  
The Belt Alliance fighters were no match for Starfuries but compared to the Brakiri ships they were reasonably capable. The Delta-V class fighters were almost trade marks of the Belters, triangular shaped light fighters with particle guns and the provision for missiles. Their big advantage was their atmosphere capability, which also made them popular with Raiders. The Starfox was a little larger and based on a shrunk version of the old Flying Fox class Starfuries used by Earth Force all of three decades ago, again they were below EA standards but were durable and well armed with guns and missiles. Unfortunately in Pauls opinion the Dilgar would tear through them in minutes, not just because the Thorun fighters were hideously effective but also because for all their training and enthusiasm the Belter pilots were still mainly civilians with only a tiny handful of EA veterans in their ranks.  
"Not much is it?" Paul said plainly.  
"Against an invasion fleet?" Grozny raised a thick eyebrow. "Not much at all, we're escort ships not combat cruisers."  
"Don't suppose it matters much now." Paul grimaced. "I'll try and work a way out of this, but until then I suggest you get ready for a fight."  
"Will the Dilgar fire on Neutral ships?" Grozny asked with concern.  
"It's what they do." Paul answered. "If its alive they kill it, simple as that."  
"We really stumbled into this one." The grizzled officer said.  
"We did, and now we gotta stumble out." Paul spoke confidently. "Just make sure we live long enough first."

Dublin, Earth.  
Police Head quarters.

For Francis O'Leary a dream had morphed horribly into a nightmare. From trying to impress a not unattractive girl he had managed to get himself thrown in jail on charges of digital crime and accessing state secrets. He couldn't guess exactly what the punishment would be but everytime he closed his eyes he saw a courtyard full of butch and lonely convicts waiting for him. He really, really needed to escape.  
The door to the holding cell clanged open and a uniformed officer urged him to stand. "You have some people wanting talk to you." He said. "They're wearing black suits so I'd be careful what I said. Wait for your lawyer son." He advised good naturedly then escorted him through the station. He came to a small interview room occupied by two men seated at a desk and a woman stood to one side, the woman who had brought him here.  
"Thank you officer." She said. "We'll take it from here." As the police man left she nodded at a chair on the opposite side of the desk. "You should sit Francis, this is serious stuff."  
He pulled up a chair gingerly as the two dark suited men watched him. The one on the left was a stocky built man probably in his forties with black hair, the other was a Korean about ten years younger and much leaner. "Mr O'Leary." The stocky man spoke. "My name is Victor Chapel, this is Mr Leong and you already know Miss Sakai."  
Francis nodded. "So who are you people?"  
"We work for the government." Chapel answered. "And we've taken an interest in you and your little activities."  
"I swear I didn't mean any harm." He said sincerely "I was just testing!"  
"We tracked you Francis." Jenny said. "You did a good job hiding your tracks, real good in fact, but your system wasn't unbeatable."  
"It wasn't easy though." Leong spoke for the first time. "And we'd really like to know how you made your little device."  
"It's my own design, made from just regular items. Nothing illegal." He said quickly.  
"But you used it illegally." Chapel spoke in a calm but cold voice. "And that'll get you fifteen years in jail."  
"Fifteen years!" he stammered. "No way!"  
"We found a record in your black box of the systems you broke into." Leong produced a list. "Some of these are breaches of planetary security, that explains the severity of the sentence."  
Francis' mouth was moving but no words were coming out. This was just way too much.  
"You will go to jail if this goes to court." Jenny stated. "But this doesn't actually need to go to court."  
Francis looked up and traced his gaze across the three people. "What?"  
"We might be willing to overlook your transgressions if you decide to pay your debt to society another way." Chapel explained. "We might have one or two things we'd like you to do."  
"Like a job?"  
"Like one." Jenny nodded. "You could also call it a challenge." She smiled a little, remembering that beating challenges had been Francis' main reason for breaking into computer systems in the first place.  
"Why don't you look at this?" Leong took blue box the size of a shoe box from beside his feet and slid it over to Francis. It was a small computer with a screen on the top. "Just press the screen to turn it on."  
Francis activated it and saw the light blue screen come to life, he was surprised to see the writing on the screen was in an alien language. "I don't recognize these symbols."  
"They're numbers." Leong handed him a sheet of paper. "That converts the alien symbols into our own numerals."  
He took the sheet and looked at the screen, lining up what each symbol was. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, kind of guessing the answer.  
"Just access it." Jenny answered. "It's encoded but I'm interested to see how you handle the challenge."  
"Okay." He began picking numbers off the screen, using the touch controls to select the symbols. As he did so the symbols began cycling making the pattern even harder to grasp. "This is pretty smart, a cycling code. Unless you find the master sequence its almost un-crackable."  
The three suited people watched closely as Francis wrestled with the box, after ten minutes he finally gave a quick shout of triumph. "Got it."  
"You got it?" Leong sounded a little surprised.  
"Sure, take a look." He passed it over. "What is it anyway?"  
"Just a little something I brought back from my travels." Jenny leaned over to look at the screen. "A souvenir."  
"Miss Sakai," Chapel stood. "Let's have a chat."  
Together they left the room, allowing Leong to grill Francis as to how he cracked the code so quickly. Jenny closed the door behind her and noted that the corridor was empty. "So what do you say?"  
"I think he has potential." Chapel nodded. "Leong seemed impressed."  
"It took our expert an hour to get into that Dilgar computer, he did it in ten minutes."  
"Like I said, potential." Chapel repeated.  
"I think we should give him a chance." Jenny recommended. "We still have the intercepted Dilgar communications stored in the _Persephone's_ data recorder. Their military grade encription is a hell of a lot tougher than that little blue box."  
"Dilgar are smart." Chapel admitted. "They'll appreciate how important it is to have secure communications."  
"And we know how vital it is to beat them." Jenny said. "This kid could really help us. Put him in Leong's team and see how he does."  
Chapel nodded. "Okay, but he'll need a chaperone for a week or two until he gets settled. A familiar face."  
"What me?" Jenny frowned. "Boss, I'm a field agent not a Nanny!"  
"And the Director told you to take it easy for a while." Chapel chided. "So you can sit around at HQ, handle paper work and keep an eye on this fella. Then go back to risking your neck."  
"I look forward to it." She said with faux anger. "Fine, so we're recruiting him?"  
"Yeah, why not." Chapel shrugged. "Might as well."  
Jenny lead the way back into the room, feeling quite cheery. "So Francis, about that job."

"You got a job?" Gerald O'Leary sounded surprised. "Really?"  
"Yes dad, really." Francis answered. "Working for Universal Exports."  
The warm living room of the O'Leary household on the edge of Dublin was currently filled with Francis O'Leary and both parents, along with Jenny and Victor Chapel sat on the sofa together.  
"Now, can I offer you guests some tea?" Maureen O'Leary asked.  
"Oh, that'll be lovely." Jenny smiled. "What kind do you have?"  
"Kind?" Maureen asked. "It's just tea dear, we don't buy any of that fancy stuff."  
"Two cups will be fine thank you." Chapel answered warmly. "With milk if you have it."  
"Certainly." She smiled. "Won't be long."  
"So what job have you given my boy?" Gerald looked over to the dark suited guests his son had brought home. He shifted in his worn chair and tried to take the measure of these people.  
"Computer work." Jenny said. "We need someone to set up a new system for us."  
"Ahh, that's my Francis!" Maureen called from the kitchen. "Always good with numbers."  
"Thanks Mom!" he answered a little embarrassed. He was sitting very close to Jenny and was trying to appear grown up.  
"We were recruiting in the area and visited his college." Chapel continued. "Every teacher recommended him."  
"I see." Gerald nodded and took a sip of tea. "Maybe all that time on the net did you some good after all."  
"Well done son." His mother returned with refreshments. "You were doing work on the computer, and your father thought you were just looking for naked…"  
"Mom, please!" he said through gritted teeth, noticing Jenny stifling a laugh.  
"So this job pays well does it?" his Father wondered.  
"Gerry!" his wife hit him with a news paper. "It's not polite to ask that in front of his employers!"  
"Calm down woman." He grumbled. "it's a fair question."  
"It is." Chapel nodded. "You're son will be starting on ten thousand credits."  
"Not bad." Gerald nodded.  
"Which will rise to fifteen thousand per month after his probation."  
Both parents physically froze, quickly doing the sums in their heads. "But, but… that's…"  
"A hundred and eighty thousand per year." Jenny said. "Our company believes in rewarding talent."  
"Holy…"Gerald began, only to be cut off by his wife and the news paper.  
"language!" she snapped. "Oh my boy, you have done so well!"  
"Thanks Mom." He smiled.  
"Now don't spend it on booze and whores." She added.  
"Wha… Mom!"  
Jenny spluttered, not quite able to hide her amusement.  
"Mrs O'Leary, don't worry." Chapel said calmly. "Most of it will be put in a trust fund until he's old enough to spend it wisely. We'll give him a little allowance and keep him safe."  
"Our office is in Geneva." Jenny managed to compose herself. "Just half an hour away on the HALO jet."  
"Well that's good." Maureen said. "At least you're not on Mars."  
"I'll be okay Mom, and I'll visit." Francis said. "Just don't say things out loud in front of my boss in future, okay?"  
"Of course my boy, sorry."  
"You did well son." Gerald nodded. "I'm proud of you, done well for the family."  
Francis nodded in return to his father, quietly very glad of the praise.  
"Well we better be going." Chapel stood. "Why don't you pack and we'll come and get you tomorrow. Don't be late now." He smiled but the deeper meaning of his words were clear.  
"I won't be, I promise." Francis nodded.  
"Glad you took the job." Jenny smiled at him, triggering an uncontrolled glee in the young man. "See you tomorrow."  
Maureen showed them out and then returned. "Well, they seemed a nice sort."  
"They are." Francis nodded. "I'll be doing good work."  
"And more importantly getting paid a fortune for it." Gerald chuckled. "This calls for a drink."  
"Putting your slippers on calls for a drink!" his wife chided. "Gerald O'Leary you'll drown in Guiness one day!"  
"Then I'll die happy." He grinned. "Come on son, let me tell you the secret of getting a girl."  
"Dad?"  
"I saw you looking at that lassy you brought home, not a bad looker. Looks like she keeps fit."  
"You could say that." Francis allowed.  
"I'll get some clean clothes for you." His mother said. "You're getting older every day."  
"Thanks Mom, I'll still be in touch."  
"Course you will!" his Father slapped his back. "Now, let me tell you how I snared your Mum."  
"It involved begging!" she called after him with a cheeky smile, then went about clearing up the house. For Francis the whole world had been tipped upside down in no time, but secretly he found it really very promising.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 29

Mars,  
Earth Alliance

Sophia made it to the door on the second knock, it was Saturday morning and she had been preparing some food for the family dinner and wasn't expecting guests for hours yet. Alfredo had invited some of his friends and their families around for a get together and after the recent danger it had been nice to see him make an effort to slip back into normalcy. Unfortunately she had been able to spot that he still had a long way to go, he never spoke of it and would never in a million years admit it, but the trauma of the escape was still weighing on him along with what she guessed was guilt. Even his parents hadn't been able to draw it out of him, it would have to heal over time.  
She made it to the door of her Earth Force provided apartment, quickly pushed her hair back and opened it to reveal a powerful dark man stood before her. "Hi there." She said, not recognizing him.  
"Mrs Garibaldi," the man spoke. "My name's Richard Franklin, I'm your husbands commanding officer."  
"Nice to meet you." She nodded. "What can we do for you, I was just making dinner…?"  
"Oh, no thank you." He smiled with remarkable warmth for a career officer. "My wife is doing the same thing, I was just after a little time with your husband."  
"Well he's over there, down in the garage with the real love of his life." Sophia gave a wry smile. "Can't miss him, just follow the cursing."  
"Thank you Mrs Garibaldi."  
"Call me Sophia please," she chuckled. "Mrs Garibaldi is his Mother!"  
Franklin gave a hoarse laugh. "Of couse, Sophia." He nodded. "Nice meeting you, I hope to see you around at some of the Regimental functions."  
"I think I'd like that thanks." She grinned. "Guess I'll be seeing you."  
The officer nodded a goodbye with a pleasant smile and then set off to find Alfredo, leaving Sophia to continue with her dinner. As far as she was concerned Richard Franklin seemed an ideal commanding officer and was glad her husband was serving such a genuine person.

The Captain found Sophia's advice to be remarkablt accurate, he heard a loud clang and a torrent of bad language long before he made it to the wide open door of the garage serving the Garibaldi apartment. He looked inside and saw a fairly standard family car usually driven by Sophia on the school run and a second partially assembled vehicle which Alfredo was half building and half kicking into shape. It was a powerful looking black and chrome motorcycle which would probably look extremely impressive if Garibaldi ever finished it.  
"Morning Alfredo." Franklin said by way of greeting. "Not disturbing you am I?"  
"What, oh Captain, Hi there." He scrambled up from the bike covered in oil and stood to attention.  
"We're off duty, no need for all that formality." Franklin waved him to relax. "This is a social call."  
"Yes sir, of course sir." Garibaldi relaxed. "Can I get you a drink?"  
"Wouldn't say no to a beer." Franklin smiled and entered the garage.  
"Here you go Captain." Garibaldi fished a drink from a cool box and took one for himself. "Take a seat."  
They settled dwn on two old chairs and opened the cans, they were icily cool and a welcome refreshment. "So is that a Harley?" Franklin asked.  
"Yeah." Garibaldi smiled. "My little pet project, over two centuries old you know."  
"Wow." Franklin nodded in appreciation. "You think it'll work?"  
"If I have to go back to Earth and single handedly turn over the Middle east to find the last oil deposit I'll get it working."  
Franklin grunted an acknowledgement and took a drink. "You had an appointment with the base counsellor yesterday."  
"Yes sir." Garibaldi took a drink. "But it wasn't necessary."  
"You had a pretty stressful experience, you might want to talk about it."  
"With respect sir this is the army, stressful experiences kinda come with the territory." Garibaldi nodded slowly. "I know what I signed on for, and I don't need to work it through."  
"Counsellor is there for a reason Alfredo." Franklin continued. "You really should take advantage of the service, you'll feel better."  
"I don't want to feel better." Garibaldi answered. "I just want to do my job and not share my feelings."  
"Can't keep it bottled up."  
"With respect sir, yes I can." Garibaldi took another drink, savouring the cold liquid. "I wasn't brought up to put my problems on others, I gotta deal with this myself in my own way. It's just the way I am."  
Franklin was quiet for a minute before speaking again. "You've heard of the _Aries_?"  
"The ship that went down a few years ago?" Garibaldi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah I heard, I also heard you was on it."  
"True." The Captain nodded. "We got caught in somebody elses war, got shot down and were declared lost. Finally a rescue mission got to us. Out of the whole crew only three of us made it."  
Now it was Garibaldi's turn to consider his answer. "I guess you were lucky."  
"And a lot of us weren't. lost just about all my friends that day Alfredo." He said calmly. "And when I got back I didn't talk about it either."  
"So I guess we're in the same position?"  
"We were." Franklin said. "But like I said you can't bottle up this stuff. Sure it took a few months for it to sink in, but it comes back to bite you one day. It's survivors guilt coupled with a need to hurt something. It nearly cost me my marriage, so from experience Alfredo I advise you to talk to the counsellor. I can't make it an order, but you should go."  
"I'll take it under advisement sir." Garibaldi said in reply. "But thanks for mentioning it."  
"There's one other thing." Franklin said. "I was reading the reports of your unit, seems you took something of a leading role after your commanders were killed in action."  
"I had to, there wasn't much choice." Garibaldi shrugged. "Anyone would have done the same."  
"If it were up to me I'd have you in for the Silver Star." Franklin said. "But the Government is keeping the incident quiet, at least for now, so that'll have to wait."  
"I'm not interested in Medals sir, just glad to be alive."  
"So is the rest of the platoon." Franklin grinned. "And most of them thank you."  
"I did nothing, the real heroes were the civvies and Agent Sakai."  
"You kept the unit together and provided leadership." Franklin stated. "besides, I can't give these to a civvies."  
Garibaldi looked down to see Captain Franklin holding three cloth Sergeants stripes. "I dunno sir." He sighed.  
"Sergeant Sosobowski was an excellent soldier. Based on your record I'd have been surprised if you'd have made Corporal in peacetime." The Captain scoffed. "But the fact is you showed incredible character and selflessness under fire and put the mission and the unit first. I need someone to take these off my hands, and you're the best man for the job."  
Garibaldi took the cloth stripes. "I wasn't really looking for a promotion."  
"Well it came and found you anyway." Franklin smiled. "Congratulations Sergeant."  
He shrugged. "Bigger paycheck I guess."  
"That's the spirit!" the officer laughed. "Ask not what you can do for your country, just what it pays."  
"My leave is up next week, been nice to have this much time away."  
"Well you earned it." Franklin agreed. "Rest of the Regiment is cycling back from its deployment and I'm sure command will send us all somewhere else soon. Enjoy your next few days, then put on those stripes and report to me Monday morning."  
"I will sir, thank you sir."  
"You're welcome." Franklin stood. "Getting those stripes was an easy task, now you have to actually earn them. I'm confident you will. See you soon Sergeant."  
Franklin left and Garibaldi turned over the fabric emblem in his hands. It was a new world of responsibility and he wasn't sure he could fill Sosobowski's boots, but if his comrades had that faith in him he owed them to try. He left work on the bike and headed for the Apartment to tell his family the good news and then try to get Sophia to sew on the stripes to his sleeve.

Comac System  
Former Brakiri colony

The pacification of Comac had been a particularly easy affair, its few cities clustered together in neat grids designed for maximum efficiency and minimum space. All it meant was it took only a handful of orbital drops with mass drivers to wipe out the majority of the population without needing to deploy massive amounts of biological weapons. It would therefore be used as a simple base, the elevated back ground radiation from Nuclear precision strikes having little affect on the more hardy Dilgar physiology. Jha'dur's people had nuked each other often enough that a little radiation had no effect on them anymore.  
Captain An'jash pressed the chime outside her Warmaster's quarters on board the Dreadnought. The light on the corner of the pad turned green and the portal slid open allowing access to the lavishly furnished room. "Warmaster." She spoke as she entered. "Final reports from the invasion force."  
"Thank you." Jha'dur was watching her main video screen. "Leave them on my desk."  
An'jash looked over her commanders shoulder to see what she was watching, it was ancient monochrome footage of a nuclear explosion seen from a slow moving aircraft. "If I may speak Warmaster, why are you watching our history films?"  
Jha'dur looked around and smiled at her aide. "Interesting you should say that." the feline said. "We've seen this image thousands of times in our youth, the story of how our particular species of Dilgar, the Prime Dilgar, defeated and enslaved our enemies three hundred years ago by discovering the secret of Atomic weapons. But this image is not one of ours."  
An'jash frowned. "It looks identical to our footage?"  
"It came from the colony below, I had one of my Spectres aquire it from a central hall of records."  
"The narration does not sound like Brakiri."  
"It isn't. its human." Jha'dur smiled. "The Brakiri have had many dealings with humans, I was hoping they would have a store of information traded from them and that is what my agent found. An extensive history of the planet Earth."  
"So the humans have Nuclear weapons, but we already knew that they were relatively advanced."  
"Possession isn't important." Jha'dur corrected. "What is important is that they were willing to use these devices on each other, on three occasions whole cities have been levelled, and in their third world war tactical Nuclear weapons were common battlefield tools."  
"A Third World War?" An'jash raised a white eyebrow.  
"My reaction exactly." The Warmaster nodded. "I dug deeper, humans are no strangers to warfare." She activated the controls and the screen showed a series of images, now An'jash could see individuals and groups they were indeed human. "Spartan hoplites, Alexander the Great, Caesar, Charlemagne, Richard the Lion Heart, Crusades, Wars of Religion, Conquering native races, Genocide, Nuclear war, World wars. Reading this history is like looking in a cloudy mirror. These people could have been us."  
"With respect Warmaster, I do not believe that."  
"I do." Jha'dur said slowly. "Human history is a liturgy of violence and destruction, not so impressive as our history but there are more parallels here than with any other race we have yet encountered."  
"But Warmaster if that is the case why have they not conquered everything on their borders?"  
"Now that is an excellent question. A century ago they were on the brink of killing each other in a fourth world war, but then came the Centauri to open their world to the galaxy and since then they have been more or less at peace, just a few skirmishes."  
"Our intelligence states the humans will not go to war, that they are lazy and complacent."  
"Our intelligence is over rated." Jha'dur said scornfully. "They haven't bothered to delve deeply into what makes a race the way it is. History shapes the present and understanding the past tells you all you need to know about the future."  
"But the humans have changed, they aren't this violent anymore." An'jash pointed out.  
"Let me tell you a secret Captain, people never change." The Warmaster stated. "Society changes, technology changes, even civilizations change. But the people never change, the same hopes and desires that drove our earliest ancestors still drive us today. The need to survive makes us take the same risks as our earliest kindred did, we just use different tools. Though there is a beautiful symmetry in our ancestors using rocks to hit each other to gain food while we today are also using rocks but to flatten cities." She chortled a little.  
"So you believe the humans are a threat to us?"  
Jha'dur nodded slowly. "Perhaps, but they are certainly a mystery. "They may appear peaceful but you've seen how they fight and how determined they can be, and how resourceful. We need to know more, and I have a plan in hand to do just that." The Warmaster turned back to her screen. "Thank you for the report Captain. Gather the fleet and make the necessary arrangements for a hyperspace jump. We have the initiative and will not squander it."  
"At once Warmaster." An'jash snapped to attention, and then departed leaving Jha'dur to watch waves of human soldiers charging head long out of trenches and into machine gun fire. To her it seemed foolish, but there was something about it which left a chill, they were attacking without hesitation and that was a rare quality. Perhaps some extra intelligence would help.

Later that day.

"We're ahead of schedule." The visage of the Supreme Warmaster nodded. "I shouldn't be surprised, you haven't failed me yet."  
"Thank you sir." Jha'dur nodded to the screen. "Assault elements should be moving on Brakir in an hour or two, resistance is expected to be light."  
"And with them out of the way we can drive into the soft under belly." Gar'shan felt a smile flicker across his face, the anticipation of a cat which had just caught a mouse. "After this it will be an easy offensive to the rim."  
"Easier at least sir." Jha'dur cautioned. "But we must remain careful not to over extend ourselves."  
"I leave it in your judgement Warmaster Jha'dur." Gar'shan bowed his head. "The front is yours to command."  
"It was on that note I wished to request something, permission for an operation."  
"You are free to do whatever is necessary to win this war my young student." The old commander replied.  
"It is… something more." She said. "I want to send a mission into human space."  
Gar'shan's face changed, growing both wary and curious. "What sort of mission?"  
"One of our infiltrators." She replied. "I want to send a Spectre to the human homeworld disguised as a Brakiri refugee in order to get some first hand intelligence on them."  
"We have intelligence." Gar'shan stated. "Our scout ships surveyed human space before the war began, they were deemed no threat to our plans, reluctant to get involved in any galactic affairs."  
"With respect to the intelligence agency, they're missing the big picture. I've fought humans and I can state first hand that they are a threat."  
"And you want to send an agent right into the heart of that threat?"  
Jha'dur nodded. "It is important to know where the humans truly stand. We cannot risk underestimating an enemy of this much potential."  
"This is all based just on your opinion Jha'dur." Gar'shan sighed. "You are asking me to authorise a dangerous mission which will likely kill one of our agents on the basis of a theory which our facts do not support."  
"I know this humans are trouble sir." Jha'dur said confidently. "I know this, soldier to soldier they can hurt us if we drag them into the war. In the end I believe we will win but we cannot afford to lose any more ships to unnecessary threats."  
"This mission alone could be considered provocation."  
"It could, but human history has often separated espionage from active combat. Even if discovered I do not believe our agent will spark a war."  
"It's a risk Jha'dur."  
"But a far smaller risk than driving to their borders with no solid information on how they will react." She answered. "With the stakes in this war as high as they are it is vital we plan for every eventuality, I already have some basic tactics to use while confronting human ships but we need reliable information to make them viable. We need this Supreme Warmaster, if we misjudge even one battle in this war it could kill us all."  
"You are correct of course." Gar'shan agreed. "Very well, you have my approval."  
"I suggest we keep this between the two of us." Jha'dur suggested. "No need to let that imbecile Len'char ruin the operation."  
"I'm inclined to agree." Her leader nodded. "What about your fleets?"  
"We're ready to deploy." The female Warmaster reported confidently. "Our enemies won't know what hit them."  
"It is a bold strategy." Gar'shan smiled thinly. "Extremely risky, but if it succeeds it will shorten the war by months."  
"My plan will work, I will place my life on it."  
"You already did, if you fail the council will have your head."  
"Then I guarantee success." Jha'dur said plainly. "I've found two possible locations for a new homeworld beyond Brakiri space, perhaps soon we will finally have an answer for where our peple will continue to grow from."  
"I await your report." He replied. "May victory be yours."  
"May it belong to all Dilgar." She stated, seeing something which might be concern in her mentor's eyes. "We will speak again after the battle."  
The transmission ended, and for the first time in the war she actually felt a hint of nervousness. They wer eon the brink of something big, and it was up to her to make sure that this campaign saved her race and did not doom it. She also realised that though he could never admit it the Supreme Warmaster, virtually her surrogate Father, was worried about her. The battle plan she had formulated was extremely dangerous and could end in disaster for her people and death for her. Gar'shan trusted her abilities but that little glimmer in his eyes ahd spoken volumes.  
"Captain An'jash." She activated the communication system. "Break orbit. We join the fleet and enter hyperspace immediately."  
"At once Warmaster."  
The ship leaned slightly as it altered course and made for the gate. In a few hours either she would continue to earn glory or be dead. It boiled down to the core of Dilgar civilization, to live in triumph or to not live at all. Death or glory, a phrase she had heard a million times back home but most recently a phrase she had read in her recount of human history. That had disturbed her greatly, to think that someone else held those same beliefs, at least once long ago. As she had said to An'jash people do not change, and somewhere out there were humans who still followed that code. She really didn't want to meet them.

Brakir  
Homeworld of the Brakiri.

It wasn't exactly hysteria, at least not yet, but there was a definite underlaying sense of panic in the star system as unarmed ships either fled for other League worlds or headed into low orbit with the aim of hig behind the planetary defence network. Both options were equally risky, the fleeing ships were heading for planets which in weeks of months would probably find themselves beneath the Dilgar heel themselves, and the ones staying were putting their faith in the defences, a faith even the military seemed to sense was forlorn.  
"Delta fighters are in the sky." Captain Grozny of the _Guardian_ reported. "The Starfoxes are being kept at five minutes alert status. They are our best pilots and we need them fresh."  
"Sound idea." Paul Calendar acknowledged. He was hired as resident expert on the League and by default the Dilgar on behalf of the Belt Alliance, and now the convoy he was advising had stumbled onto yet another Dilgar attack. Paul guessed he was cursed in some way. "I'd recommend staying close to the planet, most of the heavy fighting will be in high orbit as the main fleets engage but we'll be sure to see Dilgar fighters down here going for the defence platforms."  
"We can handle fighters." Grozny grunted. "Well, better than we can handle a warship. These ships were built as fighter killers so it looks like this will be their big test."  
"See if they were worth the money you paid." Paul agreed. "The Dilgar like their fighters, if you can hold them you can hold anyone."  
The ships commander did not answer at once, instead checking his tactical screen for a read out on his weapons. The key system was the interceptor grid, somewhat inferior to the higher grade systems on the front line Earth Force warships it was none the less the best anti fighter weapon system that the Dilgar were likely to face. Coupled with missiles and light plasma weapons the Belters could throw up some real deterrents if the Thoruns got too close. As a final surprise the Belt Alliance ships mounted a single blast cannon, a primitive short ranged weapon the main Earth Alliance forces had long discarded. It was a sort of cross between a rail cannon and a giant shot gun designed to spew heavy metals and even explosives at swarms of fighters or if need be warships. It wasn't much but if used right it could make a difference.  
"Looks like our freighters are on their way." Grozny changed the subject. "They're next through the gate."  
Paul checked the displays and watched the bulky ships forming up by the gate, the entire entrance was mined and surrounded by weapons batteries just in case the Dilgar launched their attack through the gate. It was incredibly naïve to think a race as smart as the Dilgar would use such an obvious avenue of attack, but it probably did a little something for morale. The human ships lined up after passing the mines and waited patiently for the gate to activate.  
"We managed to cram three thousand refugees in each ship." Grozny remarked. "More than I'd have guessed possible."  
"Desperate times." Paul nodded, he'd got almost that many on the _Space Race_ at Utriel, and his ship was smaller than the Belt Alliance cargo ships. He didn't decide to relay that fact, it was enough any of them were getting away. "I'm sure Earth will take them in."  
"But not happily." The grizzled Captain frowned. "Speaking of miserable situations have you seen Vinetti?"  
"Whining in his room last time I checked." Paul scoffed "Best place for him."  
"Still, if we're all going to die here it might be worth keeping him informed." Grozny caved in to loyalty. "Mr Vinetti?" he activated internal communications. "Mr Vinetti, report to the bridge please."  
"Have you been counting the Brakiri ships entering system." Paul asked as Grozny ended the message.  
"Hmm." He growled in affirmation. "They've been dribbling in all day, most look in a fairly poor state."  
"The Dilgar gave them a bloody nose out there." Paul said quietly. "This really isn't looking good. They didn't stop them at a time and place of their own choosing and now the Dilgar have the initiative."  
"They have no where to run to, and now neither do we." The Captain stated. "I think that counts as pretty depressing."  
Paul nodded, the Brakiri had a decent number of operational warships but to him it looked like more than half their forces had taken some level of damage in the previous battle, from light hull breaches to collosal structural damage, yet they were still being deployed for battle. It was an act of desparation and from the surprising lack of fleet wide communications he guessed the officers and crews knew it too. They had been given their orders and were simply waiting for the inevitable.  
"If I were them I'd be trying to slow the Dilgar." Grozny might have read Paul's mind. "Sending ships into hyperspace to knock out a few enemy vessels, hitting them as they transit. Anything that doesn't involve just sitting here."  
"Maybe they have a plan." Paul suggested. "The Brakiri seemed pretty together last time we were here."  
"They still had an operational fllet back then, now its just wrecks and their home defence force." Grozny fished out a metal flask, opened the lid and took a sip, no easy task in zero gravity. He offered it to Paul.  
"Maybe later." He politely declined. In the distance the gate opened and finally allowed the next group of civilians to leave, including the Belter cargo ships. "Guess that's mission accomplished."  
"Lets hope the raiders don't pick them off on the way home." Grozny said coldly. "I'm not a big fan of fighting at gun point."  
"You mean at Brakiri gunpoint? Yeah that is an act of desperation."  
"If we had a jump engine I'd be long gone from here." He remarked. "Long gone, after this I have no sympathy for these people."  
Paul considered that a little harsh, he could see the Brakiri point of view. They were so terrified of the Dilgar they didn't care about political niceties or respecting treaties. They just wanted to live. "I can see Vree ships, couple of Markab, Descari, Pak'ma'ra. Just about everyone from local space."  
"But no Narn or Centauri." Grozny said. "If they tried to impound one of those guys ships they know they'd get a short sharp message from a battle cruiser! But not humans, no they know they can get away with it because our government does nothing!"  
Paul almost found himself agreeing, he'd have put good money on Earth giving the Dilgar a short sharp measure of payback for shooting down the _Persephone_ but they had done nothing. He was bordering on furious outrage much like Grozny was now until he learned of the massive increase in the arms industries, something that was being kept largely quiet. It had given him a new perspective and while Earth was keeping its cards close to its chest it certainly wasn't ignoring the situation. "When push comes to shove the government will do the right thing, I'm sure of it."  
"They'll do what they always do and make the political decision, the easiest one." Grozny shook his head. "Get them out here, then lets see what decisions they make."  
"Doesn't really matter." Paul shrugged. "Even if Earth did send the cavalry all they'd find when they arrive would be Dilgar ships bombing the planet. This is going to be over fast."  
"You think so?"  
He nodded in return. "You should have seen the defences the Abbai had, from what I hear their homeworld barely held them. This place doesn't stand a chance. The only hope they have is that the Dilgar want to keep Brakir as a slave world rather than just level it." Paul exhaled sadly. "Not much of a hope."  
"Not much of a world." The old belter said scornfully. "Not the place I'd pick to die."  
"So lets not." Paul announced. "There's more than one way out of here, we just need to find it." He searched the sensor images for clues. "One of those other ships must have jump engines." He pointed to the Vree and Markab vessels nearby.  
"If they activate them I'd put oney on the Brakiri shooting them down."  
"Right now, yes. But if we wait for the right moment when they are distracted, like just after the Dilgar fleet hits…"  
"Yeah." Grozny brightened. "Yeah, that could work."  
"Try and raise a Vree ship, they'll be the most interested in getting out of here." Paul grinned, suddenly finding a light at the end of the tunnel. "Let's just hope the Brakiri have more to do than monitor our transmissions."

Brakiri Dreadnought _Corumai_, orbit.

The approach to the ship was extremely impressive, the vast green hued warship appeared to be bursting out from the dock yard which held it, the tall wings and armoured hull emerging from all sides as if the construction yard was just too small to contain such a powerful vessel. It was a sight to behold, but sadly appearance was the only thing this ship had going for it. For nearly a decade the Brakiri scientists and ship wrights of Ak-Habil had been working on this monster and to date they still hadn't managed to get it working. It was meant to be the pride of the Brakiri navy but had instead become a massive embarrassment and seemingly bottomless pit for money.  
On paper it was a terror, an attempt by the Brakiri to match the new heavy warship designs of neighbouring governments, and while rather inspired by the Earth Force _Nova_ class they hadn't managed to overcome that ships huge power requirements. The _Corumai_ was extremely well armed and heavily protected enough that it would require an entire Dilgar assault squadron to adequately deal with it, but the ship had stubbornly refused to do anything beside sit in dock and suck up money and resources. All these thoughts and more were present in Admiral Dokan's mind as he watched the big vessel getting closer through his shuttle window.  
"We have permission to dock in the main hangar." The shuttles pilot said. "I guess they finally got the door open."  
Dokan said nothing as they entered the vessel, the outer hangar doors wedged open by a maintenance team. He sighed inwardly, but he'd happily forget about the doors if they managed to get some weapons working. The ship passed through the inner air locked doors and settled down as the atmosphere stabilised.  
"Lock the shuttle down then join me on the bridge." Dokan told his pilot. "You can give me your informed opinion on how much work the flight controls require."  
He left the shuttle and was met by a man in a smart brown suit, a man he recognized as the latest in a long and ignoble line of foremen tasked with getting the mighty dreadnought into active service. "Admiral, welcome aboard. I am Director of industry Telmen and am at your service."  
Dokan acknowledged him, both were employees of the same company and the Admiral considerably outranked the director in terms of power and prestige. "Director Telmen, Dilgar forces are less than an hour away. We will be launching in twenty minutes. Make the necessary preparations."  
"Excuse me?" Telmen stopped dead.  
"I said," Dokan halted and stared coldly at the director. "That we are launching in twenty minutes."  
"I'm sorry Admiral, perhaps you haven't read the reports. This ship is completely unable to…"  
"I don't give a damn about reports." Dokan dropped his voice. "The Dilgar are coming and we are fresh out of heavy warships. You get this ship in enough shape so that we can achieve a higher orbit and assist our men and women in the defence of homeworld."  
"Admiral you must understand what you ask is impossible."  
"In an hour the Dilgar will arrive. By the end of the day the Brakiri race will be a memory unless we put every available gun into the defence. I don't care about tactical manoeuvres or jump engines or getting the ship fully operational, I just want it up there killing Dilgar. Is this clear enough for you?"  
The Director gulped. "Yes Admiral."  
"Fate of the world is in our hands Director Telmen, you get this ship moving and I'll find a crew."

"We're abandoning ship." Commander Rolan stated. "Mr Remik, dump the logs to fleet command and evacuate to the _Corumai_"  
"Evacuate where?" the first officer blinked in surprise.  
"The dreadnough _Corumai_." Rolan repeated. "We are going to be half of her new crew, the _Anarel_ is too heavily damaged to fight so we have a new assignment."  
"To crew the most jinxed ship in the galaxy?" Remik said with a slight laugh. "To crew that death trap during an attack by the most feared combat force in the galaxy? Oh this isn't going to end well."  
"I'd rather be there than here or on the surface. At least we can fight back."  
"Or get spaced when every door on the ship pops open!" Remik retorted. "It's a suicide mission!"  
"This whole damn battle is a suicide mission!" Rolan finally snapped. "We're dead! Each and every one of us! You think we can stop the Dilgar with just this fleet? Stop kidding yourself! It doesn't matter which ship we serve on we are all going to die, I just want to take some of those cat like bastards down with me."  
He caught his breath as the remaining bridge crew stated at him in silence. They must have known they were doomed but it had taken him to say it for them to really understand. Remik broke the silence. "Guess it doesn't matter then."  
"Of course it matters." Rolan said with greater calm. "We can make it matter, we can make our deaths count for something and we will. We will crew the last pride of the Brakiri fleet in the last great battle our people will ever fight in. When we go to meet our ancestors we will be welcomed with fanfare and glory. If you have personal items take them with you, you won't see your families again but a little keep sake will help you remember why we are here."  
"You heard the officer, get your gear together and head for the shuttles." Remik told the crew and set them scurrying off. He watched them efficiently turn off the few systems that were left on the battered vessel and retreat from the bridge, leaving him with Commander Rolan. "You honestly think we can't win?"  
"The Abbai barely stopped them with the best defence grid in the galaxy. Everything we have was built by the lowest bidder." Rolan stated. "We can hope the Dilgar need us for slave labour rather than simply exterminating us. If we live we may still be liberated by our allies."  
"What allies?" Remik scoffed. "We're on our own out here."  
"So the honour of this stand will belong to us alone then." Rolan said. "The Deathwalker is on her way, just like the ancient prophecies warned. We can run and hide or we can meet her face to face. I know which one I prefer."  
"Personally I'd prefer to run and hide." Remik sighed. "But what the hell, as the humans would say."  
"What the hell." Rolan chuckled despite himself. "The Admiral is running the battle from the _Corumai_ so at least we are in good company."  
"Good to know the old man isn't above fighting with us." Remik agreed. "You know I'll miss this ship. She fought well."  
"She did." Rolan took a look around the battered bridge. "And she got us home. There is nothing more we could have asked from her."  
Remik nodded slowly. "I'll see you on the shuttle then."  
Rolan let his friend go, then took a moment to gather his thoughts. He caught a glimpse of a particularly shiny piece of metal on the floor no bigger than a coin almost mirror like in its clear sheen. He took the fragment and observed his reflection in it for a moment. He noted for the first time how tired and worn he looked, his face dark with soot and uniform dirty and far from fresh. Those sort of thoughts had once seemed important, projecting a pristine image in the hopes of catching the eye of some high ranking executive and garnering some favour for promotion. Today it meant nothing, in the face of death everything found a new perspective.  
He placed the fragment in his pocket and headed for the door. "At least part of you will be there to fight the Dilgar." He whispered to his ship, not really caring for how it might have looked. "Sleep well old girl." He intoned, then turned off the bridge lighting system and left the ship in a cold endless slumber.

Dreadnought _Deathwalker._

"Any questions?" Jha'dur asked the officer in front of her.  
"None Warmaster." He replied, immaculate black uniform hiding his powerful form beneath. "I will achieve this mission or die trying."  
"Capture is the worst thing which could occur." She stated. "If you are corned you will use a suicide device, bomb if possible, pill if necessary."  
"I understand."  
Jha'dur regarded the officer, unlike most Dilgar this man had absolutely no hair and his feline features were much more pronounced. From his file she knew he had suffered for this, the Dilgar penchant for cruelty was not restricted to aliens and she guessed the officer had been through hell at school. As an orphan Jha'dur had herself felt the cold side of been ostracized and it had forged her into the person she currently was, evidently that early trauma had also shaped her guest.  
"You have a colourful history." She read text from her computer screen. "Sentenced to death for multiple murder you were given the choice of joining a suicidal attack on the Drazi. A mission you actually survived."  
"Yes Warmaster." He said formerly.  
"You don't like to give up?" she queried.  
"No Warmaster. Death is one more way of failing."  
She liked that. "Upon your return you were given to the Spectres on command of Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan who seems to have taken a personal interest in you. Very high patronage."  
"I hope only to do my duty."  
"Excellent." The Warmaster agreed. "So far you rate as our most skilled field agent, this list of kills on Balos is deeply impressive." The Spectre nodded in acknowledgement. "Tell me about your parents."  
The sudden change took him by surprise. "Parents Warmaster?"  
"Parents soldier." She nodded.  
"They were loyal citizens and served their time in the armed forces as all citizens should."  
"That tells me nothing." Jha'dur said calmly. "What were they like?"  
"They were… they were ashamed of me Warmaster."  
"Because of your affliction?"  
"To have no hair is considered a sign of weakness in our people." He stated evenly keeping his emotions locked up. "They had to endure much humiliation."  
"And they blamed you didn't they?" she considered. "And took it out on you, punished you for no reason just to shift some of the frustration they felt?"  
"Yes Ma'am."  
"So did your teachers and class mates, correct?"  
"Yes Ma'am."  
"So one day you could take it no longer and in a rage murdered your parents, two high school tutors and eight class mates at the age of fifteen."  
"That is correct Warmaster."  
"You proved you were not weak, but in truth had a great power over them. The power of life and death."  
He did not answer, but nodded slightly.  
"You exercised your power, you killed them." Jha'dur smiled. "Nothing quite like it is there? To see that glimpse in their eyes and understand that they can do nothing. Everything they are belongs to you. Their hopes and dreams, desires and fears, all of that is yours to grant or take away." She could see the Spectre understood and was reliving his past crimes. "And you came to enjoy it. You couldn't show those who mattered that you were different because by now they were dead, so you will never have that approval. You will never hear your Father tell you he was wrong about you, so you must try and prove it to yourself by exercising the one great power you have. Death."  
The Spectre was silent, lost in thought. Jha'dur knew the thoughts going through his head because ten years ago she had them too. She was faced with the dilemma of proving herself worthy of living but having nobody to prove it to. Both her parents were gone and no matter what she achieved and how much public recognition she garnered she would never get the praise she most sorely needed. She would never get her Mother and Father to raise her high on their shoulders and dance with joy and pride at what their daughter had done, it was such a genuine dream it physically hurt to imagine it. So she drove on, to find her own limits by setting herself the most ridiculous standards of achievement, and without fail achieving them. Time and again she found some new and unheard of virus, some secret nobody else had thought of. She set herself the goal of becoming a Warmaster, something unheard of for a person with absolutely no field experience and on the basis of her astute strategy she earned the respect of the Supreme Warmaster and a promotion to sit beside him. Finally she found that the universe gave her the ultimate challenge, save her entire species.  
"This is why you are here." Jha'dur spoke again. "Not because of your list of kills or commanders reports, but because you have something to prove. This whole crew is filled with people like you, out casts, those judged weak, failures who need redemption. Even me." She smiled thinly. "People like us fight harder than the others, we fight because it is the one thing that has been constant in our lives and we never, ever give up."  
"You are no failure Warmaster." The Spectre said. "Your achievements…"  
"Are born and nurtured in the same place our skills come from." She interrupted. "We are the same, that is why I hand picked you to go to Earth. Take the Chameleon net prototype, our scientists refuse to reveal where they got it from but it works. Find me the data stolen from Tirrith, we never cracked the cruisers data recorder but be assured the humans have retrieved it for us. Gather every single detail you can, no matter how irrelevant it may seem and send it to me only. I am setting up a secure network for you."  
"I will not fail Warmaster."  
"I know you will not, it isn't in your blood." Jha'dur said sincerely. "Nothing tells you more about a person than their past, study the data I have copied for you and use it well."  
"Yes Warmaster."  
"The fleet will be exiting hyperspace in a few minutes. Take the recovered Brakiri shuttle and join a refugee convoy. Go to Earth and do what you must."  
"I will. Thank you for this honour and this opportunity."  
"We are the alike soldier." Jha'dur nodded. "We carry a heavy burden and it is my priveledge to give you this assignment in the certain knowledge you will prove worthy of it. Go now. Your name will be remembered and honoured."  
He saluted sharply, a perfect salute that spoke of pride and determination. Jha'dur had set him a goal, one that bordered on the impossible and that no normal Dilgar could achieve. This Spectre was not normal though, nor was Jha'dur and she understood that the higher the bar was set the higher she would rise, the higher her fleets would rise and the higher this soldier would rise. Impossible was just a word, and while it was unlikely he would ever return the name of Dar'ro would be with her people, for as long as her people existed to speak it.  
An incoming transmission drew her attention. "Captain, go ahead."  
"Warmaster," An'jash said from the bridge. "We are almost at our target."  
"Deploy the fleet." She ordered. "I will be on the bridge in moments."  
The Warmaster rose from her desk and unthinkingly reached for her neck. Tied there beneath the regalia of her uniform was a simple locket that her mother had worn. From the day of her funeral Jha'dur had never once removed it and never once looked inside. It was one of the few tangible pieces of the past she had left and it was her constant reminder to drive forward and never stop until her life's work was done. She didn't care much for religion unless he could gain an advantage from it, but beneath it all she did believe in the soul and she did believe that she was being observed by the ghosts of her ancestors. She hoped they were watching with prideful joy.  
She closed her eyes and spoke barely in a whisper. "The test has come, the fires rise, the nights deepen. Give me strength my ancestors, give me what I need to save my people. For my people I claim this day, for my ancestors I honour this day." She opened her eyes. "And to death, I give this day."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 30

Dilgar First Strike Fleet.

"Hyperspace beacon reached." Captain An'jash stated. "The fleet is in combat position."  
"Very good." Warmaster Jha'dur responded formerly, the air of clinical professionalism aboard her flagship was reassuring before they headed into battle. Whatever the crew felt, fear, terror, hatred, even joy, it was all been suppressed by their training. "Activate jump engines, prepare to jump."  
This was to be a masterclass in logistics, Jha'dur had mobilised fully half the Dilgar fleet for this strike, bringing them in from three seperat locations on different jump routes all set to arrive at exactly the same time. One of the greatest advantages the Dilgar had was planning, something the other militaries in the area didn't fully understand on the same level Jha'dur and her peers did. For the Dilgar warfare was as natural as breathing air or pumping blood and they could do this type of thing on very short notice, always ready for battle.  
The vortexes formed, points of darkness against the flowing blood of hyperspace enlarging to let the fleet storm into battle. Jha'dur was taking an incredible risk with her strategy and could end up with the greatest disaster in Dilgar history, and certain defeat in this war. Jha'durs battle fleet entered normal space and began searching for targets.  
"Picking up multiple warships close to the planet." An'jash read the sensor displays, a smile forming. "They are still supplying, we caught them completely by surprise."  
"Then let's not waste it." Jha'dur commanded. "Full attack, pin them close to the planet in the gravity wells and destroy them all."  
The Dilgar ships began to spread out like wings on a vicious black bird about to swoop on its prey. The ships near the planet were powerful vessels and a serious threat to Jha'durs forces in open battle, but the Warmasters plan would deny them that opportunity. Waves of fighters moved ahead as per Dilgar doctrine, the enemy fleet so utterly surprised it had a mere handful of fighters on patrol which would be little more than an amusing distraction for the hard bitten Thorun pilots.  
"Send a message to the council." Jha'dur announced. "We have entered the colony world of Yonog and are attacking the Hyach forces massing there."  
Both the Brakiri and the Hyach were considered major threats and had to be destroyed before the Dilgar could proceed deeper into League space, the Hyach had clearly realised this and were assembling a battle fleet close to Brakiri territory in order to meet any Dilgar ships which survived the battle for Brakir. By the time that fight was over the Hyach navy would be fully mobilised and ready to defend its borders, and if Brakiri ships were tough Hyach ships were down right lethal. To avoid a long range gunnery duel Jha'dur knew she couldn't win she had opted to open up the second front early and strike the Hyach as they mobilised, hoping surprise would balance her smaller force while her brother took the bulk of the fleet to Brakir. By the time the Hyach recovered she would be dropping plagues on their homeworld.  
"Hold our position, deploy all combat wings to engage at close range." Jha'dur ordered, pushing her forces in quick to neutralise the Hyach range advantage. "Quick and clean Captain, and make sure you monitor the battle reports from Brakir."  
The first Thorun units cut down their Hyach opponents without breaking pace, Frigates and Destroyers not far behind them and the Hyach fleet had only just begun to turn to face the Dilgar assault. Jha'dur felt a surge of satisfaction in her heart, the risk was going to pay off.

Brakir, Dreadnought _Corumai_

"Officers of the bridge," Admiral Dokan grabbed their attention. "Now we are assembled and ready it is time to do our duty for our people. Some of you know each other, others will be strangers, but we are all from Brakir, we all have the same blood and we all have the same drive in our spirit. Our goal today is to keep our world alive, let us honour our ancestors and our successors by not failing."  
The bridge remained silent for a while, it was a vast room completely covered in screens and tactical displays, it even had a central holographic projector to show the command staff how the scene looked in three dimensions around the ship. Most of these command systems had been operational for some time and despite the ships numerous flaws it was still the best command and communication network hub in orbit.  
"Now that that's out of the way, begin power up sequence."  
The bridge crews turned away and began activating the systems they were responsible for. Commander Roland and First Officer Remik were responsible for propulsion and helm control respectively and though a step down from commanding the _Anarel_ Rolan was glad to have a hands on job. He had worked his way up doing this job and while the Dreadnought was a unique ship the controls were basic enough for him to understand.  
"Engineering, status report?" Dokan called across the cavernous bridge.  
"Engines online Admiral." Rolan replied. "We have about thirty percent capacity, it's as much as she can take with the reactor so strained. It'll move us but not fast sir."  
"Just so long as we are on the line." Dokan growled. "helm, set course. Prepare to depart. Continue status reports!"  
"Weapons fully armed." Replied an officer from the opposite side of the bridge. That at least was good news.  
"Life support and internals active in all inhabited sectors."  
"Communications active."  
"Sensors active."  
"We have links to homeworld and local fleet units Admiral." Rolan stated, taking double duty as Admiral Dokan's first officer as well as the bridge engineer. "We are ready."  
"Director Telmen, Clear all moorings."  
Outside the lattice work of supports which had cocooned the _Corumai_ for almost a decade began to detach, shearing away with reluctance and loosening their grip on the warship. The great sides of the construction dock separated and began to pull away left and right sending scrapings of paint and slivers of metal floating away almost like confetti glittering around the Dreadnought. The entombing black metal of the bay revealed a spotless green and yellow vessel of remarkably beauty and grace for such a large design. It may not have possessed the deadly elegance of a Centauri battleship or the brutal simplicity of an Earth force dreadnought, but it truly looked like something noble, a defender and champion of the Brakiri about to face its greatest trial.  
"Moorings are cleared Admiral." Telmen spoke from the background. "We are clear to navigate."  
Before Dokan could give the activation order a series of signals began flowing in from the piquet ships. "Admiral, multiple jump points forming!"  
"Location?" he asked quickly.  
"Beyond our moon's orbit." The sensor officer replied. "Reading dozens, possibly many more behind the moon."  
"They're using the Moon to cover their numbers." Dokan grimaced. "Do we have contact with our science facilities out there, can they give us a reading?"  
"No sir." Rolan switched channels a few times trying to get a clear signal. "The Dilgar are jamming them."  
On the screen ahead there were tiny flashes on the lunar surface, tiny glowing orbs seen from the bridge of the _Corumai_ but up close they would be miles high fireballs from orbital bombardment. The Moon bases were mainly for mining and research, the concept that they would need to defend themselves from a fleet attack had never even crossed the Brakiri collective mindset and as such their defences were wholly inadequate to the task at hand. It was nothing but a warm up for the Dilgar before moving on Brakir itself.  
"Admiral sir," the communication officer announced, the only sound on the bridge. "Commodore Broma of planetary command requests your attention."  
"Place it through." Dokan said, never taking his eyes from the distant battle.  
"Admiral," a harsh voice spoke on the bridge speakers. "Enemy vessels are hitting our facilities, request permission to attack."  
"Denied." He replied without a hint of emotion in his voice. "We will keep our ships in formation defending homeworld."  
The bridge officers looked at their various screens, but were listening intently to their commander. Inside Remik was ashamed to leave the Moon stations to the amusement of the Dilgar but he knew and had to accept that there was nothing to be done.  
"Admiral please," Broma continued. "There are few of them, we can defeat them!"  
"It is bait, a trick to lure us away from homeworld." Dokan stated flatly. "All ships will hold position, anyone who violates that order will be summarily executed. Is that clear Commodore?"  
"Understood Admiral." Broma answered disgruntledly. "Holding position."  
Dokan ended the transmission with a grunt and remained focused on the distant bombardment. His words had just sentenced thousands of defenceless people to death and he had the power to do something about it. What if he was wrong and there was no trick? What if the Dilgar were laughing at him for his incompetence? His conscience told him to act and he knew the crew would be with him, but instinct won out. His senses honed on countless battlefields in countless skirmishes told him this was a trap, there was a huge fleet out there just waiting to pounce and he would not risk weakening his already dwindling fleet. The billions on homeworld needed him, so he set his jaw and watched. To turn away and ignore the attack was to ignore the deaths of those people, and while he could not help he refused to just pretend it wasn't happening.  
"We need to know what is behind the Moon." He said breaking the heavy silence. "Commander, arrange a fighter scout to investigate and report back."  
"Yes Admiral."  
"Scout only, they will not engage under any circumstances." Dokan emphasised. "We need information more than bodies right now."

Belt Alliance Gunship _Guardian_

"So that's a Dilgar ship?" Grozny looked at an enhanced picture from the ships visual sensors.  
"Yeah." Paul stared at the warmachine for a long time, seeing images of fleets of similar ships laying waste to Abbai refugees as his crew tried desperately to escape with their lives. Empty shouts and calls for help echoing in his ears. "Yeah, that's a Dilgar ship alright. Nothing else that ugly looking in space."  
They watched the image for a while, Grozny wondering how a Dilgar ship performed in battle and Paul dreading what would happen in the next hour or so. The Dilgar forces systematically pulled apart the defences of the Brakiri moon and then began very slowly destroying eacy of the facilities, obviously trying to bait the Brakiri into breaking formation and helping their embattled comrades. To their credit the Brakiri stayed stoically in position and mourned their losses but nothing more.  
"Look, they're deploying fighters." Paul noted on the sensor display. "Scout party I guess."  
"You think there are more Dilgar ships out behind the moon?"  
"Perhaps." Paul nodded. "Either way this is going to get real messy in a couple of minutes. Any luck with our exit strategy?"  
Grozny nodded. "We made contact with a Vree trader, Tezel, who will open a jump point for us as long as we offer to protect his ship."  
Paul chuckled. "That's the Vree, never get anything for nothing. Well we need to keep his ship alive anyway, I recommend we take the deal."  
"I already did." Grozny nodded. "But we can't leave until the Brakiri are too distracted to bother wasting their fire on us."  
"And we can't run under the Dilgar attack." Paul added. "This is going to need some careful timing."  
"Captain sir!" An officer called. "We have incoming!"

"Incoming?" Admiral Dokan repeated.  
"Yes sir, jump points forming near the Moon, many more this time." Rolan reported.  
"Prepare to move us into position, signal all ships to stand by to engage." The Admiral spoke with short efficiency. "Once they move in range we will attack and keep them outside planetary bombardment range. It is vital no ships make it past us."  
The Dilgar commander had apparently decided that the attack on the Lunar facilities wasn't going to work, so he finally commited his main forces, four full sized attack fleets arriving from different directions all prepared to slaughter every last defender and inhabitant of Brakir. Their arrival was oddly beautiful, the band of lights sparkling open in a sort of blue ribbon of energy stretching before the assembled defenders. It would have been visible from the planet below even in daylight and no doubt captivated millions, some in wonder, some in terror. Planetary defence forces were mobilised and ready, but just like the billions of civilians they were powerless to do anything but watch. The Brakiri army was renowned as the best in the League, superior in some ways even to the Centauri but for all its skill and discipline it could not fight back against mass drivers and plague missiles. In this time when the military in orbit would be fighting and dying for their world the army was tasked with maintaining martial law so the population did not go wild with grief and riot in the streets. It left a bitter taste in many soldier's mouths.  
The Brakiri defence grid whirred into life, huge planet based cannons swivelling out of underground bunkers and focusing their muzzles on the invisible enemy. Missile silos popped open and air fields in the deep desert began to roar into life as fighters and bombers began to transition into orbit. All across the dusty world defences stirred and defenders looked with determination at the task in hand. They had no where to run to, no place to retreat and no hope of surrender, the Dilgar had proven that was no option after what they did to surrendering Alacans. More Alacans had died after surrender than did before, and the Brakiri had resolved themselves to fight to the death. Their world was harsh and dry, it had little than anyone would wish to conquer and even less to die for. But for Brakiri it was home, and that was reason enough for them to fight, and reason enough for the Dilgar to try and eradicate them.  
"Commander, recall the scouts." Admiral Dokan said calmly. "We've found the main assault force."  
"There are three separate groups of Dilgar Admiral, the largest group is heading for us." Rolan informed the commanding officer.  
"Fleet command to Commodore Broma, deploy your forces to hold the smaller enemy groups." Dokan formulated his plan, the Dilgar were probably expecting fleets to pin themselves to Brakir and fight defensively, something Dokan wasn't content to do. "All ships of the expeditionary fleet prepare to attack the main force."  
Broma quickly re arranged his forces, he commanded the original home fleet which hadn't moved from Brakir yet while Dokan commanded the survivors from the fall of the colonies. Broma had better ships but Dokan had the superior crews and he was counting on them getting the most from their vessels. He was in sole command and the political bickering which usually dogged military strategy was gone, lost behind the need to actually survive. Dokan had no restrictions but also had been given sole responsibility for protecting the planet, the greatest mission in Brakiri history. He simply considered it another battle, if he dwelled on the consequences of defeat he would lose his mind, so instead he looked for victory and nothing else.  
"Bring the engines online, take us to the head of the fleet. Prepare to fire on my command."  
The bulk of the _Corumai_ began to shift as its gravitic drive built up power, dwarfing anything else in either fleet it gradually eased past the sections of dock yard and raised its bow to point at the Dilgar fleet. It's sister ships set up in a checkered formation, wide enough to keep the ships safe from area effect nukes but close enough to provide cover to their neighbours in the formation. The Dilgar on the other hand were assuming their standard inverted 'V' formations and looking to break up the Brakiri fleet and overwhelm the individually superior ships with numbers. The Brakiri were in a much weaker defensive position than either the Abbai or Drazi had been, but they met what came with unflinching courage, and prayed it was enough.  
Dokan watched as the range decreased, the _Corumai_ was moving painfully slowly and was still well behind the fleet when it should have been right at the front. This time the Brakiri fighters were staying close to the warships and the bombers were in reserve waiting to be released against the Dilgar warships as soon as battle was joined. He was stood beside the large table in the bridges centre making a very real effort not to stamp his feet or pace anxiously as his vessel made its ponderous way into battle. He might be nervous about going into battle, only an idiot wouldn't be, but he could handle that. what he couldn't handle was this infuriating delay as he moved into position.  
"Dilgar fighters are breaking away." Rolan said, feeling his breath shorten. "They're heading for the fleet."  
"Keep the ships in formation," Dokan ordered. "Release fighters to attack at will."  
The _Corumai_ suddenly began to vibrate, a deep rumbling coming up from the floor and shuddering the stations and crew. A nuber of panels in the walls popped open revealing the circuitry behind and Dokan was forced to steady himself by the table. "What is that!" he yelled over the noise.  
"Engines are overloading!" Rolan shouted back. "The reactor is cascading out of control!"  
"Stabilise it!" the Admiral roared.  
Telmen rushed forward to stand beside Rolan at the engineers station, quickly taking in the data. "Half the safety systems just locked down, but the other half won't respond!"  
"Power is building exponentially!" Rolan called, the shaking growing yet more violent. "One minute until it goes critical!"  
"Get those safety systems online!" Dokan ordered. "And get this ship battle worthy!"  
As the two people worked on the systems Dokan was able to see the two groups of fighters begin engaging. The battle was beginning and he was stuck on this death trap of a ship about to explode with no help from the Dilgar. The dreadnought had stretched Brakiri technology beyond its limits and it had proven impossible to create a working ship on this scale, but the cruelty of it destroying itself while the battle for his people occurred all around was too ridiculous.  
"I can't activate the safeties!" Telmen cried in desperation, seeing his life flash before his eyes. Te ship jerked forward throwing some crew from their seats as the gravitic engines surged.  
"Fifteen seconds!" Rolan warned.  
"I'll have to shut down main power!" Telmen shouted. "This better work!"  
He ran his fingers over the controls with remarkable speed, given clarity and motivation by his impending death. He deactivated the reactor feeds and vented the raw plasma from the system into space. Gradually the shaking subsided and stopped, as did the ship.  
"It's done, reactor offline." Telmen sighed, collapsing down onto the floor with a sigh.  
"We've got nothing." Rolan ran through the display. "Weapons, engines, fleet wide comms, nothing."  
"So we're dead in space." Dokan grimaced, his hands digging into the sides of his command table. "Director Telmen. Fix the reactor."  
"It's like I tried to warn you Admiral, this ship just won't work!"   
Dokan looked at him with such rage Telmen actually stepped back. "Fix the reactor." He repeated slowly. "or you and your engineers can push this ship up to the Dilgar lines."  
"I'll…I'll try sir."  
"Don't try." Dokan spoke. "We' aren't trying to save our world, we must save it and for that to happen you must get this ship working."  
"Yes Admiral." He nodded and then darted off.  
"Sir, Our sensors are still online. Dilgar ships are in range of our forces." Remik said.  
"Very well." Dokan fought the urge to scream in anger and frustration, the most important battle in history was happening without him. "Keep me informed, and let me know the second we are able to go into battle." He stepped back and took his seat, staring darkly at the tactical display as the two fleets began engaging.

Dilgar Dreadnought _Conqueror_

Warmaster Sha'dur shifted in his own command chair, it wasn't what he was used to and it took him a while to realise it was because the chair was actually comfortable. He had inherited this ship from Jha'dur when she transferred her flag to the _Deathwalker_ and set off to engage the Hyach and had found the vessel to be in prime condition and far superior to his previous warship. His executive officer Captain Evenil had been equally impressed and his crew had made an easy transition and operated the ship at full efficiency. Now he was ready to take the vessel into battle at the head of the fleet, but with a lot more caution and confidence than he had earlier felt.  
For weeks Jha'dur had been sharing her knowledge and philosophy of warfare with him, teaching him the tricks of the trade and instructing him on the strengths of the Dilgar war machine. Some of what she said was common sense, and a lot of her basic tactics and formations were common across the navy, but it was how she used these forces which made her something different to the previous Warmasters. The Dilgar were aggressive warriors and tended to rush their enemies, engaging in combat as quickly as they could aiming to rapidly break their enemies. It was the same thing the Drazi did, though Dilgar fleets tended to be more cohesive and disciplined. The battle tended to come down to a frontal assault on a wide front relying on the prowess of individual Dilgar ships to win the day, most of the time it worked but the price was heavy and against more skilled or powerful enemies it held many risks.  
Jha'dur had changed that. She had developed a set of tactics aimed at breaking up enemy fleets, isolating smaller parts of it and annihilating them piecemeal. She tended not to attack in an even battle but to concentrate focus in one or two critical locations and break through enemy fleets sowing confusion and destruction. She relied on speed and expert coordination across the fleet so each unit hit the right place at the right time in order to roll up an enemy before they knew what was happening. In her view a battle should be over in minutes, any longer was a sign of sloppiness. Her tactics were likened to stabbing an enemy with a rapier as opposed to bludgeoning him with a sledge hammer, and were rapidly endorsed by the Supreme Warmaster and made required learning for new officers. The strategy had proven itself in the war so far, both tactically and strategically and it had proven the key to Dilgar success allowing the strictly speaking inferior Dilgar forces to defeat their enemies.  
But Jha'dur had taught her brother one more thing, and that was to break an enemy before battle if possible. Before his ships attacked he should try and destroy the morale of the enemy and sow terror before him. Jha'dur had garnered an enviable reputation as death incarnate, enemies had a tendency to instantly expect the worst when they saw her black warship arrive on the scene and the victory at Comac and Elkata was as much due to psychology as firepower. She had told him to use his family connection to play on that and borrow her reputation to a spread a little terror of his own until he made a name for himself. Now with a fleet to back him up and some solid plans in his mind he was ready to try.  
"Warmaster, our fighter units are engaging." Captain Evenil stated. "Warships approaching firing range."  
"Increase speed to battle standard." He flickered his pale blue eyes across the bridge, noting with approval each officer glued to their post. "Prepare to fire."  
"This is interesting, the Brakiri flagship just stopped." Evenil frowned.  
"Stopped? How?"  
"I'm reading minimal power readings, no notable systems operating. It's just drifting."  
Sha'dur stifled a laugh, even the Dilgar had heard about the troubles plagueing the _Corumai_ and found it amusing how the Brakiri would never simply admit they got it wrong. He dearly wanted to send a squadron to put that ship down, but he had to remember his sister's advice on concentrate on the active enemies only, the _Corumai_ could wait.  
"Note its location, but stay on course." He ordered. "Missile systems, stand by to engage."  
Many Dilgar ships kept a store of missiles, some were dedicated missile cruisers such as the _Athraskala_ but most were conventional ships with a useful store of secondary weapons. Both types of vessel popped open launch tubes and activated targeting computers. Across the Brakiri fleet warning signals indicated weapons lock.  
Sha'dur centred his thoughts, savouring this second for the truly historic moment it was. For centuries to come this moment would be discussed, the instant the final day of Brakir began. "Launch missiles."  
With a burst of white gas the missiles left their tubes, the pressurized neutral gases used to force them into space instantly freezing into tiny specks of crystal which twinkled and shimmered around the weapons. A couple of seconds later the main engines of the missiles activated, far enough away to leave the launching ships unaffected they rapidly accelerated towards the Brakiri lines. Before they got halfway the long ranged Brakiri guns began firing back, the energy bolts and solid missiles passing each other and sometimes colliding in a bright flash as they headed for their targets.  
The Brakiri weapons hit first, energy bolts and lances passing through the lines often hitting very little at this range but sometimes striking a vessel, tearing and bending the metal hulls of the ships unlucky enough to be struck. On the otherside the Brakiri fared better than Sha'dur had hoped, the interlocking fire from warships and the point defence fighters doing a good job holding back the missiles. A few passed by exploding in nuclear fire and consuming a few proud cruisers, but the fleet held its formation and prepared a second volley.  
"Release second and third Thorun wings." The Warmaster ordered. "Tell them to clear a space through the enemy fighter formations, have the Frigate units ready to follow them through to engage the Brakiri light ships."  
Moments later waves of Dart fighters broke away and drove for the closing Brakiri, bright orbs and streaks of light racing past them and impacting among their comrades in the fleet. They raced head long into battle without any care beyond destroying their opponents and fulfilling the mission, the Brakiri light weight Falkosi fighters met them bravely but could do little to stop them by going head to head. The Dilgar cut into the Brakiri lines, their fighters racing through amid the wrecks of any fighter which stood before them. The Brakiri reacted swiftly, fresh fighters moved from either side to try and surround the Thoruns, striking the flanks of the Dilgar fighter formations and destroying a number of the slower craft. The Thoruns countered, using their superb agility to flip around and bring their larger guns to bear on the attacking Brakiri and engaged. It degenerated into a close range dogfight, a situation the Thorun was bred for and utterly dominated.  
However while the Brakiri fighters were out matched they did prevent a repeat of the Comac fiasco where the Dilgar fighters had stripped weapons from the Brakiri capital ships. They were buying the safety of those warships with their lives, but with the consequences of failure at the front of every Brakiri's mind they continued to attack without hesitation. Finally the Dilgar entered firing range and were able to engage without reservation.  
"Concentrate on these two points." Sha'dur indicated on a tactical display. "Either side of the Brakiri centre, we'll punch through and swing around behind them."  
The Dilgar began their main attack, ship after ship firing with its heavy weapons into the Brakiri lines. Green hulled cruisers began to crumple under the attack, scored by lasers and holed by plasma and particle bolts. They fired back, a warship beside Sha'dur flaring as a gravitic lance pierced its hull end to end and breached its reactor. The vessel bulging and inflating before it split open in bright flames. Energy weapons traced through space either cooling and vanishing in the distance or ending in sudden fire against an opponents hull.  
"Begin to push forwards." Sha'dur ordered. "Eighth and Ninth Pentacans, take the lead, break a hole in their lines."  
Two groups of heavy warships moved away from the line, the Dilgar forces behind them changing formation from a multi tiered line into a wedge formation. Most of the fleet held its line and kept the Brakiri occupied while the assault group began to concentrate on the Brakiri right. The ships ahead moved to respond, using their initiative rather then just sitting and waiting for the inevitable to happen. Lances struck the leading Dilgar dreadnought, piercing the ships hull and triggering numerous small fires inside. The Dilgar returned fire, concentrating on one ship at a time and completely overpowering its defences, cruiser after cruiser began to fall away on fire or outright explode. The leading Dreadnought took more hits, armour flaying off as strike after strike bored home, a train of glowing wreckage marking its path and giving an etereal trail for its fleet mates to follow. More fire concentrated on the burning ship, bursting through its structure and cracking it open. It gave one final volley of defiance before it broke up and sent thousands of tons of wreckage on course for the Brakiri atmosphere.  
The assault group drove on with even greater intensity, they followed the wrecked dreadnought like a pilgrim following the relic of a long dead leader, tearing a gap through the ships immediately in front of them. The crossfire was vicious, Dilgar ships were caught up and destroyed in mere seconds, struck from all sides with heavy weapons without even a chance to shoot back. In other places Brakiri cruisers shuddered under fire or were destroyed by close range Nuclear strikes which often destroyed the attacking Dilgar vessel too. There was no though of mercy or self preservation on either side, they just pressed forward past the dead and hit each other with every weapon at their disposal. Fighters weaved between the warships doing what the could and trying to avoid the massive exchange of fire as Dilgar cruisers clawed their way forward.  
Two Brakiri cruisers stood in the path of the assault, facing over forty Dilgar warships heading straight for them. They fired, turning the sharp bow of a Dilgar warship into a maze of red hot burning metal twisted and mangled beyond recongnition. The vessel spun away and was ignored by both sides. A pair of dreadnoughts concentrated on the left hand cruiser, slicing its primary weapons away with laser fire and peppering it with energy bolts. The tall fins were sheared off and fractured metal flew off the hull as impacts opened holes like blossoming metallic flowers. Its lights flickered and burned out, the two Dilgar ships keeping up the bombardment until its hull broke up and survival for its crew was impossible.  
The final cruiser brought its guns to bear on a Dilgar destroyer, at such close range every round struck the warship removing a large part of its hull. The Dilgar vessel held its course, taking a large section from the Brakiri ships bow with its own guns. The two ships pounded each other, and while the Brakiri vessel was torn and damaged the Dilgar ship was reduced to almost a wreck, massive tangles of machinery being blasted out in streams of fire from the hull. The Brakiri ship began to move to avoid the carging vessel, but the remaining crew of the destroyer altered course to match them and held their collision course, Brakiri gunners hit the ship again and again but couldn't cause that final critical hit which would destroy the Dilgar vessel. It smashed head on into the cruiser and crumpled the proud Brakiri ship, pushing it back wards and setting off uncountered lesser explosions inside.  
There was a gap in the line, small but widening as the Dilgar assault units began pouring through. Sha'dur kept the bulk of his ships engaged pinning the Brakiri in their line while the breach was exploited, fighters, destroyers, cruisers, even Dreadnoughts headed for the gap and began to attack the battle line from its rear in coordination with Sha'dur's other vessels. All the while Admiral Dokan was absolutelt powerless and could do nothing but watch. If the _Corumai_ was operational he could have plugged that gap and saved the fleet from it's coming rout, but he could do nothing. With the rest of the crew he watched the Dilgar press their attack.

Belt Alliance ship _Guardian_

"Ever seen anything like that before?" Grozny stared in horrified wonder at the Dilgar ships pouring through the Brakiri lines.  
"No, We're usually running away by now." Paul Calendar observed. Being on the receiving end of a Dilgar military victory was an experience he had hoped to avoid repeating. "Speaking of, where is our Vree ticket home?"  
"There." Grozny indicated a gathering of saucer shaped ships. "Unfortunately the Brakiri defence grid is watching us as well as the Dilgar."  
As soon as he spoke most of the satellites surrounding them suddenly opened fire, making the bearded Captain physically jump and have to hold onto his station in the zero gravity ship. The wide array of energy and some missile weapons streaked up as the Dilgar ships moved away from the Brakiri line and offered a clear shot to orbital command. Dilgar ships flickered with distant flames and faltered, but the range was a little too far to be really effective.  
"Captain, the Brakiri are calling in their reserves." The communication officer reported. "A Commodore Broma is putting everything into that breach."  
"Which I guess includes us." Paul sighed. "I hate this plan."  
"Ground based cannons are targeting this area." Came the warning. "No lock on, but I think they mean business."  
"Shot down by the Dilgar or our own allies?" Grozny offered the rhetorical question. "Earth force was never this complicated."  
Paul looked around the bridge, then decided to ask the question the crew wanted to hear. "So do we go?"  
Grozny glanced at the Vree ships. "They are going. So I guess we'd better go and back them up."  
Sure enough the group of Vree flying saucers were on their way setting up in a checkered formation. It was strangely similar to an ancient Earth movie as the saucers swept silently past under gravitic power. While they looked rather plain and from a human point of view oddly familiar the Vree ships were just about the best the League had to offer, fast, tough, amazingly agile and very well armed with Anti matter cannons and torpedoes. Their main drawback was the short ranged nature of their weapons, but with the Vree's speed and the raw destructive potential they had any opponent would be foolish to disregard them. The Vree themselves however were not warriors and had a lack of anything beyond basic strategy and tactics, in the past their sheer destructive power had won through but against the tenacious Dilgar they would have a real fight on their hands.  
"Launch the fighters." Grozny ordered. "Keep them close to the ships and tasked for defence. I don't want them getting pulled away and ambushed by the Dilgar."  
The Belter ships powered up and began the journey towards battle, the simple but effective fighters formed up around the ships as a never ending stream of bright weapons flew by guiding them like runway lights toward the battle. They wouldn't stand much chance in the thick of the fighting so Grozny angled them to set up on a flank and do what they were built to do; bring down enemy fighter craft by the dozen. Dilgar ships were tearing into the Brakiri fleet but their fighters were beginning to go for the orbital satallites and defence platforms and were quite capable of opening a path from orbit to the surface of Brakir for the orbital bombardment to strike through.  
"Slow us down helm." Grozny said. "Don't get us too close to the heavy fighting."  
Ahead the visual scans showed hundreds of ships blasting away mercilessly at each other, Calendar was a little surprised that the usually sly and underhanded Brakiri had it in the them to engage in a stand up fight, but then again the peaceful Abbai had done the same thing months earlier. He guessed having a gun to their heads made them rise up and take the challenge. Another group of flashes were visible beside capital ships exchanging fire, smaller and faster moving specks which seemed to be getting gradually closer.  
"That bunch of Dilgar fighters has broken through." Grozny said quietly. "While we're here we might as well stop them, otherwise they'll be a threat to us while we try and escape."  
"So it helps us to shoot them down, okay." Paul nodded. "These fighters are as good as Starfuries so be careful."  
"Understood." Grozny straightened and prepared to command his ship in battle. It wasn't his first fight but he'd never seen anything even remotely like this before. "Battle stations, close all blast doors and activate defence grid."  
The gunships plasma weapons and interceptors swung in their turrets and pointed for the Dilgar, their tracking systems going active and picking out hostile targets.  
"We're reading Brakiri fighters still tangling with the main Dilgar wings." The weapons officer warned.  
"Be careful of your targets then." Grozny said. "Wait until they reach range and then open fire."  
The Dilgar fighters weren't expecting much from the rather small and simplistic looking vessels moving into their path, they assigned two squadrons to shoot them to pieces and then return to the mission at hand. The fact that the Brakiri were relying on such primitive mercenaries as their last line of defence showed how close to victory they were. The assigned Thoruns broke off and closed on the collection of ships, arming weapons and preparing for an easy kill. They had no idea what was about to hit them.  
The interceptor batteries on the Belt alliance ships might not have been cutting edge but they were certainly extremely effective. While Earth Force had taken incredible pains to make sure the system could bring down incoming energy weapons as its primary function in the process they had developed one of the most efficient targeting systems in known space, if it could lock on and shoot down incoming energy bolts then missiles and fighters were little more than target practice. Today the Thoruns were providing the targets and each ship in Grozny's little flotilla opened up with interceptors and light plasma cannons, saturating the Dilgar squadrons with energy fire and completely wiping them from space in seconds. It took the Dilgar sector commander a few moments to actually believe what his eyes were telling him, but once his disbelief faded he settled on the decision to totally remove the threat. It was an insult to the Dilgar which would not be ignored.  
"On the plus side we took out the attacking fighters." Paul stated. "On the bad side they've noticed us, more fighters incoming."  
"Reset interceptors for long range fire." Grozny barked. "Open fire!"  
The ships cannons discharged again, rocking back and forward and their recoil systems as the sent white and blue enrgy balls swarming at the Dilgar. This time they were better prepared and took evasive action as the rounds streaked by, though many still found their mark fracturing a number of fighters as they closed in. The Thoruns entered range and fired themselves, most of the shots impacting harmlessly on the various Belt Alliance ships thick hides. Those fighters which took the time to line up a precise shot on one of the ships systems found themselves sitting ducks for the interceptors and were quickly destroyed before they could fire. The surviving fighters wheeled past on their strafing runs, spinning around to keep their noses on the Belt Alliance ships as they moved away.  
However as they fired parting shots at the gunships they suddenly found themselves facing dozens of fighters hidden beind the vessels. With surprise on their side these new craft accelerated out of cover and engaged the retreating Thoruns, linking their weapons with the interceptor batteries to drown the enemy in short ranged fire. A few of the ageing Delta fighters were brought down by the more alert Dilgar, their light armour useless against Thorun weapons, but on the whole the Dilgar attack had gone very badly for them.  
"Hold fire." Grozny said. "Anymore targets?"  
"No sir, Dilgar fighters are holding back."  
"Excellent, guess we gave them a bloody nose." He smiled in some satisfaction. "Losses?"  
"Five Delta's destroyed sir, light damage to this vessel but nothing serious."  
"Better than I expected." Paul commented. "But the Dilgar aren't the type to fall for our tricks twice. They'll know our numbers and weapons now and if they come for us again they'll be ready."  
"Maybe we can be outta here by then, where are the Vree?" Grozny asked.  
"I think they're being a bit enthusiastic." Paul winced. "Take a look."  
Grozny observed the Vree saucers fully engaging the Dilgar units, lacing them with Anti matter weapons and dodging the return fire. The wreckage of two saucers was clearly visible but the remainder seemed to be doing a fine job.  
"Not too enthusiastic, we're screwed if the Dilgar waste them all." The Captain grunted. "Hold us back here, watch for a fresh wave of targets."

Brakiri orbital command

Centred in a building close to the Brakiri north pole the massively fortified orbital command facility sprawled across a large area of uninteresting polar real estate, driving down deep beneath the surface and surrounded by an array of sensors and weapons which would have impressed an Abbai officer. In addition to its buried and heavily reinforced structure it had fully active gravitic shields giving it enough raw power to shrug off hours worth of bombardment with conventional weapons, though with the items the Dilgar used that time was probably optimistic.  
In the lower levels a large command room had been given over to monitoring everything which happened in the Brakiri home system and while called Orbital command it actually monitored the whole solar system, the name had been given to it centuries ago when the Brakiri first began space flight and it had simply stuck as the facility and its responsibilities grew. It was an impressive if dull looking room with about two dozen staff and the usual array of display screens and communication terminals. Usually it would be crammed with Generals and Admairal but today it had only Commodore Broma trying desperately to hold this chaos together. There would have been more staff officers here, except they had all rather enthusiastically headed to give battle at Comac and managed to give so many contradictory commands and failed to unite under a single leader that the battle turned into a Dilgar picnic. It was a grim joke in the media that Deathwalker herself was surprised at how easy that victory was. Now the Brakiri only had one actual Admiral left, and he was trapped on a derelict ship out of contact. In a twist of events so cruel it defied belief Broma was now in charge of coordinating planetary defence, and he was physically shivering with each new report. Happily nobody had noticed.  
"We have breaches in sector nine." A report filtered through. "Auxiliary forces are responding but the Dilgar are still threatening our flanks."  
Auxiliary forces meant the alien ships that had been unable to leave orbit quick enough, mainly their erstwhile League allies but there were also a small group of human vessels in the force. He found pressing these ships into battle but Brakir had never faced a more desperate situation and Broma recognized that his worlds survival out weighed any concerns, even morality. A lot of those people would die when they needn't have, but for his world Broma would not hesitate to force them into battle. "How effective are Auxiliary forces?"  
"The Dilgar break through is lessened, but their still coming through sir, we can't stop them."  
"Reserves?" Broma asked.  
"None sir."  
"Can we disengage and fall back to the satellite screen?"  
"Not without heavy losses." His officer replied.  
He was watching the defences crumble. It was a realisation that froze Broma solid with outright terror. In a matter of an hour or two Dilgar mass drivers would be levelling every city on the planet and the final blame would rest firmly on his shoulders. He took a shallow breath into his dry mouth and wanted to escape, to just run and hide and let someone else take this responsibility, but he couldn't. whether he liked it or not there was only one flag officer available to coordinate the defence, and that was Commodore Broma. So far he had followed Admiral Dokan's basic plan of matching the Dilgar force strength where necessary, they had sent one fleet to attack sector sixteen on the far side of Brakir, one fleet to attack sector one directly above the command centre, and two fleets hitting sector nine. Dokan had made sure half the Brakiri ships were at sector nine and the rest split to meet the remaining Dilgar attack forces. Unfortunately that plan looked like it was going to fail, and Broma had to do something.  
"We need to deploy more ships to Sector Nine." He said, quelling the waver in his voice.  
"Yes sir, but we have no ships available."  
"I want you to withdraw five squadrons from the fleet in Sector One and deploy them to plug the gap in Sector Nine."  
"Commodore, the forces in Sector One are engaging a Dilgar fleet of their own, weakening them may let the Dilgar break through there and attack this facility!"  
"I am aware of that Captain." He said sternly. "But we can take care of ourselves for a while. Re-deploy the forces effective immediate."  
"Yes Commodore." The officer said, clearly not very happy about the order. Broma was taking a huge risk which could well see Orbital Command destroyed, but if they could stabilise the breach in their lines and push the Dilgar back there they could then strengthen the forces in Sector One again, it just might mean they have a chance to kill him and his staff. It sure wasn't an ideal option but it was better than a massive break through which would surely signal the end for Brakir.  
"Order them to engage Dilgar ships in Sector Nine with all haste, emphasise that our fate rests in their hands."

Dreadnought _Conqueror_

Sha'dur was holding back from the battle itself, his blood was demanding he deploy his command group directly into the thick of the action to earn glory and smash the Brakiri in person, but he restrained himself. Too often he had let his passion lead him and when he entered the thick of battle he became focused only on destroying the targets at hand, which was fine for a Captain but not for a Warmaster. He needed to stay alert and focus on the battle at large, seeking threats and opportunities which his forces could exploit. Every Dilgar felt that lust for battle, after an eternity of warfare and conquest it was as much a need as breathing air and pumping blood and to deny it was to deny the thing which made them alive. What Jha'dur had said was that there were other ways to satisfy that desire and that he didn't need to be in the battle front to experience the thrill of victory. He had to think on a bigger scale, and for the first time he understood why.  
"The Brakiri are weakening their fleet over the North Pole." Captain Evenil suddenly reported. "They are sending ships to face us."  
That was an opportunity. "Tell Battle Master Al'rosh to intensify his attack and destroy their command centre." He ordered. "Cut off the head of the Brakiri fleet."  
"Another report sir, we lost a fighter wing to alien ships in grid seventeen."  
"Not Brakiri?"  
"No sir." Evenil replied. "We have no records of them, here's an image."  
Sha'dur observed a rather ugly looking ship holding back from the main fighting. He hadn't seen it before but the simple design reminded him a lot of the human warship designs Jha'dur had warned him about. "What happened?"  
"They appear to be dedicated fighter killers." Evenil said. "Picking up twelve ships in three separate designs, about six squadrons of fighters."  
Sha'dur frowned on the alien vessels. "I want them out of my path. Send the Ninety Eighth strike Pentacan to destroy them, and give them strong fighter cover."  
"At once Warmaster."  
If they were indeed human vessels his sister would be very interested to get hold of one, or at the least examine the wreckage. The Warship at Tirrith had taken so much damage before finally exploding that no useful technology had been acquired and as such the full abilities of human ships still held mysteries for the Dilgar. However the universe had just handed Sha'dur a pleasant gift, trapped and isolated behind the attack these ships would certainly make Jha'durs day a little brighter, especially if they could disable one. The prospect of taking some of the crew or pilots alive brought a small grin to his face.  
"Order them to try and take the leading ship." He said. "Destroy the rest."

The battle had turned into a vicious close range maelstrom as Dilgar ships pressed through the holes in the Brakiri formation. With the Dilgar concentrating in one place but keeping enough ships mobile to harass the rest of the Brakiri line the defenders were having a hard time bringing an adequate force to confront the Dilgar at the breach. The reinforcements coming in from the Pole would help but those ships had first to disengage from the Dilgar fleet striking that sector, a fleet which had just stepped up its attack to a suicidal level and were rushing headlong at the ships and satellites. They were slowly breaking off despite the assault, but it was going to take time for them to arrive. Broma was ordering them into formation so they arrived in a single powerful group rather than wandering in one or two at a time and wasting their impact.  
It was the most vulnerable point in the battle for the Brakiri, their defences were at their weakest and it gave Sha'dur a few minutes in which to finally break the defence, and he seized that chance with both hands. The Dilgar reserves drove for the breach, attacking with greater force and fury than the Brakiri had truly been ready for. They met a storm of fire, Cruisers and destroyers fell apart under the Brakiri guns and wreckage fluttered away catching the dying light of constant explosions. Wrecks littered the breach looking like skeletal insects for the Dilgar vessels or misshapen sea creatures for the Brakiri. The slowly spinning debris formed obstacles and cover for small warships and fighters to conduct their own battles against while the main fleets duelled and clawed at each other.  
More and more Dilgar forces passed through the lines, and while casualties were heavy they were reaching the point where more ships survived the crossing than were destroyed and so swinging the battle Sha'dur's way. Those Dilgar cruisers which made it through swung hard about and began engaging the Brakiri forces trying to hold back the tide. _Avioki_ cruisers rocked and fell out of control as they were hit from unprotected sides by Destroyers, wrecked Dilgar ships carried by momentum forced their Brakiri enemies to evade the burning tangle and lose some of their rigid formation. Cracks were spreading and the breach widened, further hastening the collapse of the battle line.  
"We've got about five minutes before this all goes to hell in a hand basket." Captain Grozny observed. "And our ticket out of here is right in the thick of the fighting."  
The Vree forces were still heavily engaged, sweeping back and forth between the stationary Brakiri defenders.  
"That's Tezel's ship." Grozny pointed out. "He's our way out."  
Paul watched the indicated ship perform a high speed strafe on a Dilgar destroyer, showering it with green antimatter bolts from its turreted cannons. The Vree warship was much smaller than a human battleship but seemed to be an exceptional assault ship. It had three main weapons, two held above the centre of the ship and one slung underneath with all round firing arcs. As Tezel cruised by the weapons tracked and caused fearsome damage to the light weight Dilgar hull while return fire mostly missed. The saucer swept away into the distance and was obscured by the storm of fire and hail of debris.  
"Hope he comes back this way soon." Paul said. "I don't want to stick around if the line breaks."  
Two Vree saucers attacked in tandem, racing past the _Guardian_ and storming into battle. They haeld a close formation and fired a terrifying fusillade of anti matter bolts and torpedoes into the prow of a Dilgar Strike Cruiser. Its nose instantly crumpled and disappeared in a bright flash, the weak armour incredibly vulnerable to the anti matter weapons. The two saucers held a steady course whizzing past burning brakiri ships and using their exceptional speed to dodge around major obstructions. The first few times the Vree had attacked the Dilgar had been greatly surprised, but they recovered quickly and deployed a dozen heavy warships to take care of the problem. The Vree were not warriors, and each strafing run had been made on exactly the same heading at exactly the same speed making their attack easy to predict. When the two saucers passed the wrecked cruiser they stumbled into a massive head on barrage of laser fire and missiles, shredding their hulls and sending them spinning out of control. One was destroyed by a Nuclear missile, the other was blasted to scrap and slammed into a critically damaged Brakiri cruiser, consuming both in fire.  
Pauls gaze was yanked from the morbid and tragic scene by a series of alert signals. "Is that more fighters?"  
"Confirmed." The sensor station called. "Dilgar incoming, they're split up this time and moving faster."  
"Going to make it harder to concentrate on targets." Grozny said grimly. "All ships keep in formation, fire at will. Fighters engage as necessary but do not stray."  
The Belt Alliance ships were formed up in a tight cover formation so their interceptors could create a terrifying crossfire for any force to try and fly through. The fleet's carriers were in the centre with their lighter armour making them slightly more vulnerable than the smaller _Harrier_ and _Vindicator_ gunships forming the main force. The basic formation was similar to the ancient bomber formations used by the Allied air forces back in World War Two, and while the humans were no longer operating B17's the basic principle was the same. Thorun fighters swept in from four different angles in a loose formation. When engaging capital ships they tended to come in slow and steady to try and pick off key systems but this unit had learned from the failure of its predecessors and was coming in full throttle. It would reduce accuracy but a large number of lesser hits was supposed to do the job of one or two precision hits.  
The gunships opened fire, interceptors and partcle guns chugging out energy rounds at the incoming Dilgar. The fighters were moving fast which meant they didn't have to suffer the defensive fire for long, but did reduce their reaction times. The Thoruns took what evasive action they could but the interceptors still managed to take a heavy toll, showering the formations with red hot debris from their comrades. The Dilgar pushed on through the brief flames and smoke and countered, firing with unrestrained anger on the Belt Alliance ships and rushing overhead. A few of them tried to flip over and keep their guns trained on the gunships, but the sudden G forces at that speed caused momentary black outs for the pilots, and in those few seconds of disorientation the interceptors had easy targets.  
"First wave is coming around for another pass." Came a warning from weapons.  
"Plus we have a second wave on the way." Paul pointed.  
"Alright, send our fighters in to tie up the survivors of the first wave." Grozny ordered "Interceptors focus on the new wave heading in."  
The Belt Alliance fighter craft broke off and began the pursuit of the first Dilgar squadrons, capitalising on their loose formation to swamp the individually superior craft. Once again the Dilgar held their nerve and did not panic in the face of this new attack, sacrificing a few fighters to give the rest time to get into a better formation for engaging fighters. The Delta fighters ran into a series of precisely controlled bursts from the Thoruns, and although still having a numerical advantage the battle was far from easy, the triangular fighters exploding disturbingly fast under fire. The heavier craft in the BA squadron, the Star Fury based Starfoxes performed better, using their agility to evade the worst of the Dilgar fire and hit back hard. But even they were outclassed by the Thoruns and the engagement was turning into a losing battle.  
Grozny would have dearly liked to send one or two gunships to back them up, but he had the second wave of fighters to worry about. It was vital the first wave did not coordinate with the second attack and if that meant sending his fighter pilots to their deaths then that is what it would take. For the fiftieth time he cursed the Brakiri for putting him in this situation, then ordered all batteries to open fire. The next batch of fighters were more daring but their courage alone would not stop a particle bolt, and their bravado cost them heavily. Space around the gunships sparkled with light as the fighters closed in and were shot down, but enough survived to strafe the Belters. One of the smaller _Harriers_ lost an interceptor turret while a carrier was shorn of two particle cannons and suffered damage it its hangers.  
"Dilgar on collision course!" warned the sensor operator, his screen showing a spiralling fighter heading straight for them.  
"Bring it down!" Grozny roared. "Brace for impact!"  
The interceptors struck the fighter, detonating its fuel but a solid core of engines and mangled fuselage continued on, slamming into the side of the _Guardian_ and knocking the ship slightly to one side. "Hull breach!"  
"Seal that area!" Gorozny ordered. "Continue firing on targets!"  
The ship held position, air streaming from its hull until internal doors sealed off the affected areas. The gunships didn't have the strength of a pure warship and suddenly encouraged by the damage the Dilgar pressed thair attack. The interceptrs were running at maximum power, firing almost constantly and they were getting dangerously hot. Efficiency began dropping off and one or two Dilgar fighters began to spot openings to attack through. The damaged _Harrier _was the first to first to falter, its cannons seized up in the face of a squadron sized attack and while its sisters managed to bring down half the Dilgar they couldn't stop them all. The remaining fighters stripped away the interceptor turrets with speedy precision and then slowed to stay with the damaged vessel, keeping its bulk between them and the covering fire.  
"I need fighters down there now!" Grozny yelled. "Get down there and cover the _Curtis_!"  
The Dilgar fighters began to punch holes at random into the ship, piercing armour and damaging the internal systems. Gouts of flame and drive plasma erupted through the rear hull and the engines began to flicker and dim as it lost thrust. Three Delta fighters arrived on the scene and their quick attack managed to bring down a Thorun, but its squad mates pivoted to face the new threat and the civilian pilots were rapidly cut down.  
"We have a bigger problem." Paul stated calmly.  
"What's bigger than one of my ships crippled?" Grozny demanded.  
"Dilgar cruiser group." He said. "One cruiser, two destroyers and two frigates bearing down on this location."  
Grozny had to bite his lip to hold back an outburst. "Great." He snarled. "We haven't got a chance against them."  
"Pull us back closer to the satellites." Paul advised. "Draw the Dilgar into a trap, make them chase us right into a firestorm!"  
"They're coming in fast, we won't be able to outrun them, especially if we're covering the _Curtis_" The Captain considered. "And I won't leave a damaged ship here."  
His point was suddenly rendered moot, a bright flash signalled the crippled gunship had succumbed to damage and its engines had exploded, igniting the ships fuel store. The bridge crew looked in horrified surprise at the detonation, even in the thick of the fighting none of them had actually considered that they would die here and the sudden loss of their comrades was like a punch to the stomach. The first of them began to consider the very real possibility that this was their end too.  
"Stay focused." Grozny ordered, we still have a job to do." As a former military officer he understood the realities of space combat, but most of the crew were civilians and while they had fought raiders before this was something hugely different. In the time it took to register the destruction of the gunship half a dozen more Brakiri and Dilgar ships had been destroyed, the battle was claiming thousands of lives and the to dozen on the _Curtis_ was just a small fraction of the total. Grozny knew they shouldn't have died and that they shouldn't even have been here, but he had to keep his attention on keeping everyone else alive and not try and change the unchangeable. "Bring us about, take us in closer to the planet at best possible speed."

The Belt Alliance ships turned their backs on the battle, keeping in formation and never slackening in defensive fire. Dilgar fighters still made attack runs with little success but most had seen the incoming warships and were content to let their fleet brethren deal with the prickly little warships. The Belter fighters kept close to the ships now, staying under cover from the marauding Thorun flights which lurked like sharks at the edge of effective weapons range. The Delta fighters had been hit hard losing nearly half their number in the uneven duel, but they had at least kept the Dilgar from overwhelming the gunships defences.  
"Dilgar ships entering range." Paul said. "they're locking on."  
"Reset interceptors for energy dispersion." Grozny commanded.  
"Ready." The weapons officer hovered his finger over the auto fire button.  
Paul watched the chillingly familiar shape of the Dilgar cruiser pointing its guns there way. "Energy spike, here we go!"  
"Interceptors fire!" roared Grozny.  
The massed fire of the Dilgar warships was met by an equally impressive barrage of interceptor fire, the two storms one of red and one of white met half way between the groups and annihilated each other. While the Dilgar weapons were infinitely more powerful than the interceptors the disruption effects of the human weapons completely neutralised the incoming fire, only a few stray rounds made it past hitting nothing. The Dilgar ships did have another weapon though, the cruiser opened fire with its main laser cannons ignoring the interceptor grid and burning straight into a carrier. The red beams passed through the light armour and ruptured the reactor, destroying the ship instantly.  
"Move faster!" Grozny began to feel his temper slipping through, his ships were helpless in the face of the Dilgar firepower.  
"More fighters incoming sir!" The weapons officer warned. "Orders?"  
If he reset interceptor to bring down the Thoruns the Dilgar ships would burn his fleet in minutes, but if he kept them defensive bringing down energy weapons the Dilgar fighters would shoot off the guns and leave them defenceless anyway. "Keep interceptors on defensive fire." He decided. "Particle guns and blast cannons target Dilgar fighters, all remaining Deltas and Foxes break and intercept."  
The Dilgar were met by a volley of particle fire from the fighters as the rose bravely to do battle. Half the Thorun force broke away to deal with the belter pilots while the rest held course for the gunships. A Delta brought down its Dilgar attacker, the civilian pilot astonished at his luck and celebrated by shooting the engine off another passing enemy, sending it reeling out of control. A Starfox and a Thorun locked each other nose to nose, spinning and pivoting around each other merely feet away, their weapons passing within inches of the target until the veteran Belt Alliance pilot was attacked by a second Thorun and mercilessly destroyed. The Dilgar might seek a noble duel to the death to satisfy their pride but in this battle they had no cares about shooting an opponent in the back.  
The second part of the attack centred on the gunships, their deadly batteries still occupied holding back the torrent of incoming fire. The Dilgar pilots however did not recognize that the Belters may have been keeping some of their capabilities hidden, it didn't occur to them that when the gunships were under attack they might actually have with held a weapon until they thought they really needed it, like now. The Thoruns had returned to their standard attack formation optimised for strength of impact and not the survivability of the fighters themselves. Naturally the pilots weren't concerned imagining the Belters had nothing left to throw their way, so they swept on and locked their weapons on the distracted interceptor grid.  
Grozny had ordered the blast cannons activated, they were close ranged cannons that worked like shot guns in space and were pointed straight at the incoming fighters. With a violent shudder the cannons discharged, hurling solid chunks of metal out in a cone into the path of the incoming fighters with startling speed. The Thoruns didn't have a chance, without time to dodge or react they flew head long into the arcs of three separate cannons and were torn to pieces by the incredibly primitive but utterly deadly weapons. Earth Force called them 'Garbage guns' and preferred their own precision rail guns, but the Belters recognized their value and knew the system worked. Now the Dilgar knew too.  
"We're coming up on planetary defences." Paul stated, reading off a tactical screen. "Satellites are turning our way, targeting the Dilgar ships!"  
"Hard to starboard!" Grozny shouted, showing no sign of losing his voice despite constant use. "Clear the firing line, continue engaging!"  
The persuing Dilgar commander saw the ships began to turn and sensed victory, by changing direction they were giving up forward momentum and letting his forces close the range, then even those energy interceptors wouldn't save them. He began ordering the Pentacan to alter course to intercept when his sensors screamed into life warning him of multiple lock on signals. He had time to open his mouth in surprise and see a dozen heavy defence satellites reveal themselves behind the sharp turning human ships, and then all hell broke loose.  
The satellite cannons fired on the Dilgar ships, barely giving the Belters enough time to get clear before storming a terrific volley at the assault group. The Dilgar ships were taken completely by surprise and accepted the volley head on with catastrophic results. The ships shuddered and exploded, vast areas of their hulls boiling away in the firestorm before the ship itself detonated or broke up. All five ships were quickly destroyed and Paul released a huge sigh of relief. "That was cutting it close."  
"Wasn't it just." Grozny agreed. The satellites continued firing at more Dilgar ships, drawing the attention of a nearby fighter wing. "Put us close to the Satellites, they can protect us from the warships and we'll protect them from fighters."  
The surviving Belt Alliance ships adjusted course and came to a halt beside the defence platforms in this sector, each satellite firing continuosly at the ships moving through the Brakiri main fleet. The Dilgar needed those satellites out of action as quickly as possible and so fighter units began to swarm forward to be met by the Belters interceptors. The crews were back doing what they did best, protecting assets from fighter attack and they took to it with a vengeance. Two of their ships had been lost and now they were getting a chance to beat some revenge out of the Dilgar. Squadrons of Brakiri fighters joined the battered survivors of the Belter fighter wing and set up to shoot down any Thorun which made it past the formidable barrage. A heavily damaged Markab frigate joined the defence, sheltering behind the Belt Alliance ships and adding what weapons it had left. As more Dilgar ships moved in on the stout defenders more ships gathered around the Belt Alliance gunships and aided the defence.  
The weapons officers seemed to be doing a fine job, so Paul took a moment to look at the visual display of the battle all around them. He was amazed by the sight, it far out weighed any other battle he had seen or even imagined, even the Dilgar attack on Utriel paled compared to the sheer destruction raging for as far as he could see. Every point of space he could see was dotted with flashes, some vbreif energy bolts, some long visible nuclear explosions, some moved showing a burning ship glowing in the distance as it fell out of control and either detonated or burned out. Most of it was just points of light which were unrecognizible as friend or foe, but closer up he could make out enemy fighters falling to the guns of the ship he was stood on. A trio of Delta fighters rolled past the _Guardian_, chased by two Thoruns which in turn were being hunted by a quartet of Brakiri light Falkosi fighters. There was no official orders between the different forces but they had started cooperating to keep this little bit of Brakiri space free from Dilgar. And for the time being they were holding their own.

Brakiri orbital command.

Dust fell from the ceiling as another impact hit the ground somewhere nearby, causing Broma to stumble a little as the floor shook. As he guessed the Dilgar fleet had gotten close enough to begin firing on the command complex and while the ships above and planetary defences prevent the Dilgar achieving a true breakthrough they would still fire the occasional shot down onto the submerged facility. They were safe for now, though the slightly larger Territorial command monitoring Brakiri colonies had lost all power, not that it mattered as Brakir had no real colonies left.  
"Reinforcements have formed up Commodore." His executive informed him. "They're ready to go."  
That was good news, the fresh ships would hit like a hammer at the distracted Dilgar ships fighting through te breach. The alien ships caught in orbit had set up an effective blockade preventing the Dilgar from taking out the planetary defences closest to the breach or hitting the planet directly while the main battle line was still keeping together despite the constant battering. It was a truly miraculous effort and showed the rarely seen nobility of the Brakiri as a whole. They valued their lives and embraced the joys it brought as much as anyone, but if the need arose they would fight to the death and the Dilgar seemed to have been surprised by the amount of resistance they were facing. However unless he got those ships into place soon the Dilgar would still win the day and level his planet.  
"Commodore, I have jump points on the Dilgar left flank." A sensor officer reported. "Jump points."  
"Dilgar reinforcements." He grimaced, perhaps Deathwalker had come to see the final destruction. He set his jaw firmly, if that was the case he would give her a show to remember. "Get those reinforcements into the line, if we plug the gap we can still hold them."  
"Wait Commodore, they aren't Dilgar ships." The sensor officer spoke with confusion.  
"Not Dilgar?" Broma frowned. "Who then?"  
High above Brakir the jump points closed leaving a fresh and battle ready force screaming in behind the Dilgar lines. The ships were Centauri in design but operated by the survivors of the Balosian navy surviving in exhile after the fall of their world a year ago. The lizard like Balosians were a very passionate and formidable race, and though famed mostly for their powerful soldiers they also made stalwart and fearless warship crews. The vessels themselves were rather simple and did not mount Centauri weapons, the sellers having stripped anything useful from the ships before passing them on at an exhorbitant price, but they were still potent warships especially with surprise on their side.  
They had been operating from friendly bases in Drazi space raiding the Dilgar in a guerrilla war eager for any chance to kill the enslavers of their world, and this great battle was too good an opportunity to miss. They layed into the Dilgar fleet carving through the light picquets watching the rear of the force and began to engage the assault forces pushing through the breach in the Brakiri lines. At that same moment the Brakiri reinforcements from Sector One joined in on the other side of the breach, racing in and delivering a massive concentration of fire on the Dilgar forces. The attackers were caught between two violent assaults and Warmaster Sha'dur found he had no mobile reserves he could move quick enough to remedy the situation. The Brakiri redoubled their efforts, given new purpose by the two pronged attack suddenly battering the Dilgar the weary ships of the line began to attack rather than just hold. Many were shot down, many more suffered heavy damage and were forced to fall back but an inch at a time they began to gain ground. Sensing the battle was beginning to swing many League vessels joined in the attack, forgetting the reason they were trapped here and only interested in pushing back the Dilgar and surviving. Grozny took his ships forward with caution, supporting the advance but taking care not to tangle with enemy capital ships. Slowly but surely the Dilgar were starting to fold.

Dreadnought _Conqueror._

Evenil dared not say anything, she knew the reports would infuriate Sha'dur and lead to her death, either by him directly shooting her or flying into a rage and ordering the flagship into the thick of the battle. She didn't want to do it, but duty demanded she give the report and so she swallowed her fear and turned to face the young Warmaster.  
"The Balosians are cutting off our reinforcements to the breach." She said. "Those vessels already through are taking heavy fire from fresh Brakiri vessels and will not hold. Warmaster, our attack is faltering."  
The expected anger did not surface, instead Sha'dur remained completely calm, his eyes icy and clear. It was the same expression she knew Jha'dur tended to wear in battle. "We cannot redeploy quickly enough." He said slowly. "If we continue the attack we may break through, but losses will be unacceptable."  
"We are ready to join battle Warmaster." She said, preparing to meet death in battle as all honourably Dilgar should.  
"It would not achieve our objectives and jeapordise grand strategy." He said clinically. "Issue the recall order, retreat by squadrons making sure every stage is well covered and the enemy does not follow."  
"Retreat Warmaster?" Evenil blinked in surprise.  
"Retreat Captain." He gave a thin smile. "We regroup and attack again, at this point the Brakiri have still had the worst of this fight, if we leave now we achieve a tactical victory, if not a strategic one." He nodded. "That will come later."  
"Understood, giving the retreat code signal." Evenil returned to her station, in equal parts relieved and surprised. Sha'dur had been a passionate and rash young officer three months ago, now he was suddenly a detached and clinical commander. Perhaps his sister had come up with something after all.

Paul looked at the display with a hint of surprise. "The Dilgar are retreating!"  
"Retreating?" Grozny asked. "I thought they fought to the death?"  
"Guess they came up with a better plan." Paul shrugged. He'd feared the Dilgar when they fought like maniacs and never surrendered, but now they were willing to concede an unwinnable battle he actually found himself fearing them more. They were getting smarter.  
"Confirmed, their retreating in stages." The sensor officer said. "The Brakiri ships are holding position and stabilising."  
"Good for them, they're in no place to pursue." Grozny noted. "Especially if it's a trap."  
Paul looked to the ships commander. "How did we do?"  
"We're not dead." Grozny answered. "Shame I can't say that for all my people."  
Paul lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry for that. we should have been out of here days ago."  
"Yeah, we should." Grozny agreed. "Comms, find that low life Tezel, tell him this is our chance to leave while the Brakiri are preoccupied and the Dilgar are running."  
Paul returned his gaze to the tactical display while Grozny chased up the Vree trader. Every where was registering as wreckage and debris hazards from the battle, it was going to be a pain navigating past all this but he figured the Brakiri might be able to use it to slow down a future Dilgar attack. The planet itself was unscathed, though there was a seemingly constant trail of debris burning up in the atmosphere above the battle area and paul hoped none of the items were out of control fighters.  
It was the first time he'd ever seen the Dilgar turned back, and while their losses were heavy the Brakiri were in a far worse shape. It was a small miracle they had held on here and if not for the timely arrival of the Balosians even that was no certainty of victory. The Brakiri fleet was barely holding on and the next assault was bound to be worse than this. He had a sudden empty feeling as he considered that the world below on which he had done so much business in the past might soon cease to support life. His mind flicked througha thousand Brakiri faces he remembered making deals with or almost being swindled by and for the first time he could actually feel personally what the Dilgar were going to do. Destroying a race was such an abstract concept he hadn't quite related as to what that truly meant. Suddenly he did.  
"Paul." Grozny grunted. "Wake up, come on we've got our ride out of here."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 31

Geneva, Earth.

Thin clouds wisped past the thick window beside Francis O'Leary's head, the sky the most amazing shade of pale blue, almost white in fact. Far below he could make out some mountains and plains above central Europe as the HALO jet began it's decent after the brief trip from Dublin, spiralling down and slowing from its hypersonic top speed to a much safer landing speed. This wasn't his first journey in a HALO, standing for High Altitude-Low Orbit which was where the dart shaped airliner was able to travel at such extreme speeds without breaking up from the stress. On long journeys they could top Mach Sixteen but the quick hop between Dublin and Geneva didn't allow for such a long acceleration and the aircraft had travelled at about half that speed before needing to decelerate.

"How are you?" a calm female voice beside him asked.

"Oh you know, just admiring the view." He turned away from the window to see Jenny smiling.

"You've been gripping that seat belt like your life depended on it." She laughed slightly. "Relax, we're almost there."

Francis nodded with a smile and looked back out of the window. While normally the attractive agent would have dominated his attention the scene outside was something he had never seen before. Instead of the usual slow descent most airliners took this jet was spiralling down in a rather small area of airspace. It was extremely disorientating to see the land outside begin to spin and rotate as the aircraft came in to land. "Is this normal?" he asked. "The spinning?"

"Yeah, it's because we're coming into the Earth Gov complex." She explained. "We don't start descending until we're over the enclosed area so we're not flying low over the neighbouring territory."

"Why would you do that?"

From the Chair in front Agent Chapel turned to speak. "It's so a terrorist in the Alps doesn't put a missile into our tail." He said with light amusement.

"Don't listen to him." Jenny frowned. "But it is for security reasons, we're safer higher up so this approach was devised for the President when he comes down to his office here. All our pilots use it as standard whether we need to or not. Nothing to worry about."

A sign blinked on above them advising the passengers to put on seatbelts. There were only a dozen people on the plane, all of them in smart suits or military niform. Francis had recognized an Irish senator at the airport and it semed he too was returning to the centre of government. The jet was a civilian model but operated by Earth Force and had a military crew and dark blue colour scheme letting it stand out from the gaudy civilian airlines. Jenny had explained the aircraft had a number of secret additions including an ECM package and missile counter measures in order to try and relax him before take over, but it hadn't worked. It wasn't so much the flight that bothered him but what was waiting at the other end of the runway, a whole new world which he wasn't truly prepared for.

"Well you didn't take your seat belt off." He became aware of Jenny talking to him. "So I guess that saves time." She buckled her own belt and settled in the plush chair. "So you are okay with flying?"

"Yeah, no worries." He put on a big smile. "Just like the theme park right?"

"This next bit is." She glanced forward. "The Military pilots have a tendency to land pretty fast, personally I think they do it to try and make a politician throw up."

Paul followed her gaze to the closed cockpit door, he imagined the two pilots snickering beyond the metal partition. "oh."

"So just treat it like a ride and it'll be cool." She said. "And if you feel the need for heavens sake use the bag."

He looked at the sick bag, unnecessarily emblazoned with the Earth Alliance seal. "I think I'll be okay."

"Sure you will." She patted his arm. "Then we'll go get you settled in."

He was so distracted by the brief contact the wheels hitting the ground took him totally by surprise, and Jenny wasn't kidding when she said the pilots brought their aircraft in fast. It jerked him forward and he slammed his head on the seat in front, not hard enough to truly hurt but enough to cause him incredible embarrassment. The pilots threw on the brakd the aircraft began to slow harshly, pulling him against his seatbelt until it reached a steady speed to taxi up to the terminal building.

"You alright there?" Jenny leaned in. "That was quite a bump."

He smiled lopsidedly, acutely aware that he was turning bright red. "It's fine, just took me by surprise. Really, I'm fine."

Jenny nodded. "Well alright then, but you can't have concussion on your first day."

"Pretty good start huh?" he chuckled. "Well best to get all the bad luck out of the way early."

The jet came to a halt beside the sweeping glass and steel terminal building and waited as a docking tunnel extended and clamped over the forward passenger door. Already the passengers were streaming forward, grabbing their luggage if they had any and filing towards the door. Francis let them go first, he didn't fancy getting into a pushing match with half the joint chiefs. When the door opened and the people began to depart he unhitched his seat belt and followed Jenny and Chapel out into the Terminal building, a large sign in the vast lobby proclaiming 'Welcome to EarthDome.'

"How do you like it?" Jenny noticed Francis taking in the sign.

"Its so…clean." He voiced his first impression.

Jenny laughed. "Well I suppose so!"

"Not many people get to come here." Chapel said gruffly. "This whole are is a self contained country almost, separate from the rest of Switzerland and Geneva itself."

"All for security." Jenny nodded. "This place is like a huge fortress, we've got walls, guardposts, air, sea and land patrols, even our own little defence grid."

"It's why we have that pretty fancy landing technique." Chapel added. "If an aircraft comes in any other way it'll be intercepted by fighters and if necessary shot down."

Francis looked at the burly agent. "You guys would do that? what if it was lost?"

Chapel shrugged. "Bad luck then."

"There was a lot of debate about putting all of our government in one place." Jenny talked and gestured for them to start walking. "President, the Senate, the Joint Chiefs, Medical research, Psi Corps, and of course us all in one few miles wide section of Switzerland. Lot of people opposed it."

"Especially the military." Chapel picked up the story. "They figured one decent sized Nuke would cut off all governmental functions. Leave Earth leaderless and vulnerable."

"But in practice it doesn't go that way. Most of the time the President and Vice President are in totally different places, I mean the Vice Presedential office is in New York." Jenny informed him. "And most of the Senators spend their time at home only flying in for big debates. Same with the joint Cheifs, at least half are elsewhere on Earth or actually off world."

"There's very little real government here, and though a major target still we've got that covered." Chapel approached the security check point separating the lobby from the exits. The two smartly uniformed Earth Force officers on duty watched them arrive and greeted them.

"Good moring, may I see your identicards?"

The three people handed over their cards which were scanned. "Look up there," Chapel pointed to a panel in the roof. "If you were a terrorist that panel would open and an automatic PPG would drop down. Real sweet surprise."

Francis' eyes fixed on the ceiling, vividly imagining a heavy gun dropping through and short circuiting, firing randomly across the building.

"You're on the schedule." The officer said and returned their cards. "you can go on through."

"Thank you Lieutenant." Chapel nodded and proceeded out of the terminal with Jenny and Francis in tow. "We should have a car waiting for us."

The stepped out of the building, the guards and military presence giving the Francis the impression he was stepping onto a military base, which in some ways was true. The air outside was crisp and very cold as befitted January near the Alps and Francis was glad of his large coat, despite wanting to look slightly more debonair for his new comrade. The sun was almost as bright here as it was at high altitude and every colour and texture seemed to be amazingly clear, the well manicured grass around the air terminal clinging on to a hint of evening frost.

A black car silently glided up to the steps and Agent Chapel led the way down, opening the back door for Francis and Jenny before going around to sit alongside the driver. As expected the interior was comfortable and spacious and the vehicle set off smoothly and headed towards the collection of tall buildings in the distance.

"So as I was saying, the place is well protected." Chapel spoke up from the front seat. "There's about a divisions worth of soldiers spread across the area, got their own base, couple of armoured vehicles, gunships, the usual."

"Cool." Francis grinned. "So I guess it is like a little country."

"We also have more mundane things." Jenny stated. "Our own power grid, a shopping Mall, a park, even some activities like water skiing. But I wouldn't recommend it this time of year."

"I suppose you've got plenty here to keep you busy." He watched the scene change outside as he passed rows of houses. "People live here?"

"Yeah, lots of people." Jenny nodded. "Down that way behind the gates is Teep town, the Psi Corps headquarters."

"No one really goes there." Chapel mentioned. "People get an uncomfortable feeling if they get too close to that place. Personally it gives me the creeps."

Francis looked with curiousity at the distant compound beyond the residential area. He couldn't see much but he spotted tower blocks rising in the distance andd guessed they held labs and housing for human telepaths from every nation. Again they all seemed to be in one place but from what he'd just been told it seemed this place was very well protected.

"Our building is just beyond these houses." Jenny informed. "It's away from the main senate building but if we get some spare time I'll give you a better tour."

"Really?" Francis brightened. "I'd like that, thanks."

The car journeyed a bit further before coming to a halt in front of a tall red brick building which gave a simple but effective impression to visitors. It had no decoration or ornamentation but didn't look strictly ugly or clinical, just somewhat anonymous. As he stepped out of the car Francis got a scent of the Lake not far in the distance, he guessed it would be visible from the upper floors past the skeletal trees of the nearby park.

"Hey Terry!" Jenny shouted as she stepped out of the car. "How are you?"

Francis looked for the man she was calling to and saw a middle aged man in casual clothing coming from the park, beside him was a long haired Alsation dog straining at the leash. Jenny greeted them with a smile and made a fuss over the dog which happily enjoyed the attention. "Come over Francis, meet my best friend."

With a little reluctance he stepped forward, the dog was pretty big and he had a healthy respect for creatures with big teeth which looked like wolves. The animal seemed far too interested in Jenny though to notice him and he stepped up more confidently, satisfied that the dog was really quite friendly. He gave it a quick pat on the head and it gave him a quick glance before focusing again on the young woman who seemed perfectly natural with the creature.

"This is Terry Saunders, he works up in analysis." Jenny introdiuced the dogs owner.

"Welcome to EarthDome." The slightly grizzled man held out a hand.

"Thanks, My name's Francis and I'll be up in signals intelligence."

"Makes us neighbours." Terry grinned. "You crack the raw info and we relate it to the big picture."

"And this here is Gretle." Jenny stroked the dog's fur. "She's sort of the building mascot."

"Speaking of," Agent Chapel hinted none too subtlely "Lets head inside and get Francis settled into his new job."

"Yeah, guess so." Jenny shrugged with a little disappointment. "See you around Gretle." She ruffled the dogs fur and gave Terry a pat on the arm. "The guys in Codebreaking picked up some treats in town for her, come on up a little later."

"We'll be there." The owner smiled. "Come on Gretle, let's keep walking, burn off those goodies the Deputy gave you."

Jenny joined Francis and Chapel as her four legged friend loped away to explore more of its surroundings, Francis ironically wanting to do the same thing. He followed on behind Chapel and Jenny as they made their way up to the front door of the building, four automated glass doors greeted them with no great formality, there were no armed guards or hidden weapons here, just a simple lobby behind the glass.

"Well Mr O'Leary," Chapel stepped through the automatic doors. "Welcome to the Firm."

He walked tentatively forward, aware that by simply setting foot in the building he was setting in stone his future. He sensed Jenny was stood just behind him, almost ready to catch him if his nerve failed but as much for her benefit as his Francis did not flinch but with a final effort buried his apprehension and walked with his head up into the building hearing the click of his shoes on the white marble floor.

"Wasn't so hard was it?" Jenny whispered with a smile in her voice.

"Let's get you kitted out." Chapel was already walking towards the reception area. "You'll need ID and a building map which you will keep secure at all times. If it looks like an enemy will get the map you are required to eat it."

Francis' mouth dropped open. "Eat it?" he exclaimed.

"He's joking." Jenny chuckled. "But you do have to keep your gear safe."

"Security is everything in this facility." Chapel announced. "Nothing leaves this building, and I mean nothing. Not even stationary. What goes on behind this walls stays behind these walls. Only fully qualified field agents are allowed to remove items from this building because they have the skills to hold on to them and bring them back."

"What skills?" Francis wondered. "Like martial arts?"

"A little more complicated." Jenny said. "But basically yeah, if someone wanted to take something from me then they would be in for some trouble."

Francis looked at her in a different light, she didn't look particularly scary and he'd assumed she was more of an analyst with some field knowledge than a pure bred agent. If she was even half as good as some of the TV documentaries he'd seen of secret agents then he was going to have to be rather careful with how he approached her. But it would be worth it. He noticed the floor was inlaid with a colour pattern, the eagle that decorated the Earth Alliance great seal of state in front of a wreathed globe. Beneath it was the inscription 'Eternal vigilance is the price of Freedom.' Which was both the mission statement and reason the EIA existed. The party came to a halt beside the wide desk and were greeted by two security officers who chatted briefly with Agent Chapel.

"Okay Francis, I want you to guard these as if your life depended on it, because one day it probably will." He handed over a selection of data cards. "This is your visitors pass, it'll be yours until we get a permanent DNA encoded ID for you to keep. This is your computer access card, each terminal is only activated by the insertion of this security device, it logs everything you do and can be read by any superior officer, again security is paramount. And finally the key to your new room, it's in the low building across the plaza, Jenny can show you later."

Francis took the three cards, examined them briefly, then pinned the ID to his shirt and placed the others in his wallet. "Do I get a gun?"

"A what?" Chapel frowned.

"A gun, will I get gun?"

Chapel laughed, leaving Jenny to give him a disapproving look before turning to Francis. "We only issue weapons to field agents, although you can sign up for weapons training in your spare time." She explained. "But if you want to own a side arm you can buy one legally and keep it in your new room, it's a lot easier getting a license when you work for us."

"But never try and bring any weapons in here." Chapel cautioned. "Our security teams are not gentle."

He nodded and absorbed the information, he was suffering from a slight sensory overload not so much with the data he was being given but with all the implications that went with it. His life was about to change completely and he was terrified of forgetting one little detail and breaching Earth wide planetary security. He had studiously tried to avoid taking responsibility for anything, even for himself on many occasions, but now he was getting the crash course on joining the real world.

"Keep your tag visible at all times." Chapel pointed at the ID. "The building has sensors which track all movement but security teams will also perform random spot checks, if you lose that it is a criminal offence." He smiled. "So, lets go for a walk huh?"

He led them to an elevator and stepped in, setting their destination for the third floor. "There are four elevator shafts and two stairwells." Chapel explained. "They are the only ways into the upper floors and are constantly monitored. There are external fire escapes but they can't be used for entry, well not easily anyway."

"All the windows are bomb proof, incuding the front doors." Jenny added. "It might not look it but we use the same stuff Mars Dome has, nothing short of a tank is going to get in here."

Francis took all the information in, feeling a little more secure. Unfortunately the security of being surrounded by an armoured building was balanced by the thought of being trapped inside during a fire. He hated it when his mind ran on to the worst possible conclusions. The door pinged open revealing a bland beige corridor with pictures of landscapes lining the walls between doors. A small number of people were in the corridor, a mix of well dressed official looking types and much to Francis' surprise some very casual looking young people not much older than him.

"This is our Information division." Chapel noticed Francis' interest. "We don't really have a dress code, although you'll find a lot of our people wear suits."

"It's the secret agent thing." Jenny smiled. "Makes people want to dress smartly."

"But you are free to wear what you like." Chapel said. "SO long as you meet basic hygiene standards." He frowned at a dishevelled looking girl who looked barely twenty. "Although dinner jackets are preferred."

"That was a joke." Jenny added.

"Sadly, yes." Sighed Chapel. "Here's your department, codes."

He swiped his ID card through a lock and the plain wooden door curled open, its heavy hinges suggesting the wood was just a sort of casing over a much heavier frame. The room was large and well furnished with a number of little cubicles separated by short glass screens from their neighbours, perhaps twenty in all. A small enclosed office was visible at the far end emblazoned with the words 'Head of information recovery department' which Francis guessed was the official name for the code crackers. It was currently quite empty and some workstations looked very untidy but the room had a friendly ambience and just a quick glance at some of the computer systems was enough to make Francis rub his hands with glee.

"You remember Agent Leung?" Chapel interrupted his thoughts, drawing him to look at the Korean man who had sidled up beside them.

"Yeah, Hi there." Francis smiled.

"Welcome to the team." Leung stretched out his hand. "I run this little group and we're glad to have you on board."

Francs shook Leung's hand. "I'll try not to disappoint you."

"I'm sure you won't." Leung assured him. "We've got a station prepared for you."

He followed his new boss across the room while Chapel and Jenny went to speak to another well dressed man who had just entered. Leung led him to an extremely clean desk surrounded left and right with glass screens and home to a sleek black computer. "A Cry tech 2200." Francis said in appreciation. "These things cost about ten thousand credits each."

"Standard ones do, but we have a deal with the manufacturer." Leung stated. "This machine is a lot better than anything on the civilian market, it's got full crystal and optical based technology inside, not a chip in sight." Leung said with equal reverence, he too seemed to appreciate the finer aspects of information technology. "It's all cutting edge here, the best in Earth Force and even a few pieces of alien technology, one day you might get a look at a couple of Centauri computers we, errr, acquired."

Francis didn't ask for details, he'd already seen one alien computer after his first meeting with Jenny and realised his job was going to involve a lot of odd tools and he was better off not knowing how they came to him. He noticed Jenny and Chapel were returning in company with their new comrade.

"Francis," Jenny began. "I'd like to introduce Carl Durban, he's the director of the EIA."

"The whole EIA?" Francis knew his face was turning pale.

"The whole EIA." The man smiled and reached out his hand. "Good to meet you."

Francis returned the gesture and shook hands, he noticed the Director had a firm grip and quite rough hands, tell tale signs of a man who had spent a lot of time doing difficult work. He'd seen Durban on the news and was dimly aware that the man had once been a field agent and it felt like he still kept up to a strict fitness regime. He was wearing a dark suit which was clearly tailored for the director, a suit which likely cost thousands of credits from a famous London tailor and was a strict necessity for leading government figures. The one thing which really struck Francis though was Durban's eyes, they were not hard or cold as he expected from such a senior figure but instead seemed quite warm and even amused. The smile he wore seemed genuine, and although that could have been because he had years of experience hiding the truth Francis believed the director was genuinely pleased to welcome the new recruit.

"Good to meet you too sir."

"My people tell me you cracked the captured Dilgar computer in ten minutes, that is damn impressive." Francis recognized an Australian tinge in the Director's voice. It was faint after so long travelling outside his home land but still linked back to his heritage. "And Mr Leung here has had time to study your home made number sorting device. He is furious he didn't think of it first." Durban winked at the other Agent, signalling it was a good humoured jest and nothing malicious.

"Well thank you sir, and thanks for not sending me to jail."

"No worries." Durban grinned. "So you're aware of what we want from you?"

"To work here and crack some alien codes?"

"That's right." Durban acknowledged. "We have intercepted a number of transmissions which we need decrypting, the transmissions came from the Dilgar navy but that's all I can tell you right now. Is this a problem for you?"

"No sir, it's just numbers." Francis shrugged. "I don't need to know what they mean."

"Excellent. I can see you'll fit in well here." Durban nodded. "Besides it's all in the Dilgar language, when your done you'll have to send it next door to our language specialists for translation. You are one part of the machine Mr O'Leary, an important part but none the less just one member of a vast team. We all have our roles, all have our small but incredibly vital tasks to perform. You share a responsibility to protect our people, our mission is very precise, we don't worry about terrorism or organised crime, we don't worry about Alien battle fleets or new weapons, our job is politics and security. Our job is to know everything worth knowing about our neighbours in the galaxy while at the same time making sure they only know what we want them to know about us. It isn't espionage, we don't blow up bridges and sabotage battlecruisers, we listen, we watch and we think. We protect Earth because knowledge is truly power, and eternal vigilance is the price of Freedom."

Francis nodded along with the sincere speech, grasping that he was now fully immersed in the adult world.

"Remember these words, Detect, Decipher, Destroy." The Director emphasised. "This is the mantra we work to, it sounds ruthless but we don't play with planetary security. If there is a threat we find it, we learn all about it, and then we cut it utterly to shreds so that nothing is left to trouble us. It sounds ruthless because it is ruthless, and I don't apologise for that."

"No sir." Francis nodded.

"Well, that's the doom and gloom." Durban brightened. "We do an important job but I like to see us as a family here, there are plenty of leisure activities and the Agency will support you no matter what. You're one of us now, you're family and I take that seriously. You will paid well and you will have all the health cover you want, and in return we ask for your total and unwavering dedication to Earth, whatever the cost."

"I think I'm ready to take this job on." Francis said. "But to be honest it's a big leap, a real big leap."

"Of course it is." Durban laughed. "To come from laying about at college to this is about the biggest step you can take, but believe me son, this is where you belong. You'll do well here."

Francis nodded in agreement, though inside he was far from sure. "I'll do my best."

"I am sure of it." Durban stepped back. "Good to see the face behind the report, you'll make the best friends of your life in this building, savour your time here because you have a gift and you have a way to use it for the benefit of your people. Doesn't sound much but it's the most rewarding experience you can imagine."

He nodded in farewell and took Chapel away with him, deep in discussion. "The big man likes you." Jenny commented.

"Really? How can you tell?"

"He doesn't greet every single employee on their first day. He must have read my report on you."

"Oh?" Francis smiled a little. "Did you write anything flattering?"

"Not a thing." She teased. "But I guess he recognizes talent when he sees it. Come on, let me show you the rest of the floor, still lots to see."

Rancis followed her towards the door, the words of the Director still filling his mind. One of the problems he had as he neared adult hood was finding a place in the world, a role he could fill and a mission he could set himself to somehow make a difference. He didn't express those ideas to his friends for fear of being called a silly dreamer, but Durban had just gone and outlined that this place would give him exactly what he needed to make his life matter. He hadn't chosen this job, but he began to realise that he would probably never be able to find a more fitting place in the world. Perhaps there was such a thing as fate after all.

Brakir

Homeworld of the Brakiri Syndicracy

It had taken relief teams hours to burn through the stubborn bulkheads to reach Admiral Dokan on board the powerless flagship _Corumai_. As the battle raged outside a team of engineers had taken a shuttle and breaching pod from the dock yards and risked near certain death dodging past Dilgar fighters to reach to vast warship and attempt to fix it. The docking ports and hangars were completely sealed requiring the breaching pod to burn through the hull to gain access while the engineers from the shuttle donned EVA suits and worked on the outside of the dreadnought, together working to restore some sort of control to the vessel. Fortunately the battle had been turned without help from the warship and two hours after the Dilgar had withdrawn to the systems edge the _Corumai _was still not operational.

The armoured door to the bridge held rigid as the cutting torch slowly traced around its edges dripping molten metal from the cuts onto the floor where it cooled into silver globules. Dokan stood watching the slow progress in growing annoyance, part of him was appreciative of the door's construction, at least it meant any hostile force would have had a hard time reaching the command staff. Unfortunately this was no hostile force and with power to just about every system off line it was taking them an eternity to get anywhere. The door remained rigid until the last inch was cut away, then it dropped down with a titanic bang and fell to the floor, shining heat still radiating from its edges.

"Officer, I need an immediate report." Dokan demanded as soon as the door fell.

On the other side of the portal a junior ranking Brakiri Lieutenant made a quick salute. "Admiral, Dilgar forces have retreated beyond our planetary weapons ranges. The line held sir."

From across the bridge there were sighs of relief and cheers of triumph depending on the personality of the individual and how they perceived the news. Lieutenant Remik considered it a joyful victory while Commander Rolan was just glad they had survived.

"Losses?" Dokan did not make any indication of relief.

"Heavy sir, we lost nearly half our forces destroyed or disabled."

That news immediately killed the euphoria on the bridge, the news of victory suddenly tainted by the terrible cost. Hundreds of ships along with thousands of their comrades had fallen in the attempt to prevent the Dilgar achieving orbit. It was a sacrifice any of them would have had little doubt in making, the cause was just and the safety of Brakir held a paramount importance, but even so the news ran like a cold shower.

"Dilgar losses?" Dokan continued his questioning.

"Also heavy, but not crippling." The officer said. "There is a very large force waiting near our closest colony, it appears to be recieg new supplies and awaiting reinforcements."

Dokan cursed. "They'll attack again, and we're not going to have the strength to stop them next time."

Not one person on the bridge made an answer, their comrades had fought so long and so hard to hold back the Dilgar and losing thousands in the process only to delay the inevitable, not stop it. While none of them would say it out aloud many thought that the sacrifice seemed in vain, including Admiral Dokan. He would have preferred to follow the Dilgar as they retreated, driving them totally from the system but doing so might well have led into a trap, the Dilgar were well known for ambushes.

"Sir, we can get you a line to orbital command from our breaching pod, the engineers say they are having trouble with the _Corumai's_ comms grid." The rescuing officer said. "Commodore Broma is ready to return operational control to you Admiral."

"Very well." Dokan nodded, his mind clearly thinking on other subjects. "Escort me to the pod, Commander Rolan you have the bridge, for what it's worth."

Rolan accepted the command as Dokan stepped over the still warm door frame and followed the officer towards the outer hull, stepping over yet more burned through doors on the way. "Alright people, this is still a warship and we are still at alert. I want constant reports from damage control and repairs. Pick up some personal communicators from the repair teams and keep in touch that way until ship wide comes back online."

A few of the bridge officers stirred, but the majority seemed lost in a deep and foreboding depression. It was no state for the crew to be in while the Dilgar still lurked close by.

"I said move it!" Rolan yelled. "You men and women have contracts to fulfil, you signed your lives to the fleet which makes them my personal property, now get outta here and coordinate with the repair teams for your department! That wasn't a suggstion, it was an order! Now move like you have a purpose because if you don't Deathwalker will be the least of your problems!"

The crew seemed to find a new energy and sprang to life, making for the door or cornering an engineer and asking for a progress report. The Brakiri military was a commercial company, something their comrades in the Earth Alliance found dimly amusing, but it none the less prided itself on its discipline and professional nature. It was still a career for most of its soldiers and sailors and one of the few ways the average citizen could improve his social standing, rising through merit as opposed to polital favour. It wasn't perfect, and most of the now dead senior admirals had achieved their positions through bribery and connections, but the middle management like Rolan and Remik represented the skilled mind of the military machine, they had to lead the regula crewers and soldiers who were the heart of the military, and that meant leading by example.

"We hit the Dilgar with everything we had." Remik stood beside his old friend and superior Rolan. "All it dd was give them a bloody nose and twice the motivation to exterminate us."

"And it cost us dearly." Rolan added. "They get stronger, we get weaker. We can't keep it up for another attack."

"I'm glad you see that, so I was thinking."

"You should leave that to the professionals." Rolan muttered.

"I was thinking," Remik continued. "That perhaps we should try and slip away in the lull, I mean we can't protect Brakir, and we won't live if we stay. No matter what we do Brakir is finished, we should leave."

Rolan glared at him. "Do you have family on the planet?"

"Yes, and I intend to take them with me."

"I have no family." Rolan said.

"So it's easier for you to leave then." Remik grinned. "Come on, we'll take a shuttle from the hangar."

"No, I am not leaving."

"What?" Remik frowned. "You have no family to stay for, we should go!"

"All of Brakir is my family, each and every person on that planet is Mother, Father, brother, sister and child to me. I will not abandon them, and neither will you."

"We have served together a long time, but this is suicide and you know it." Remik snapped. "I'm leaving."

"Take one step into the Hangar and I will shoot you myself." Rolan said plainly. "This is not an idle threat, you are my closest friend but if you try and run I will make an example of you."

Remik looked at his friend in shock and disgust. "You wouldn't!"

"In a heart beat." Rolan said in total calm. "Make no mistake, that is treason and you could be shot for just saying it. Now I suggest you get your console working and think about defending your home, nothing else."

"You know this is completely crazy!" Remik sneered. "We're dead men!"

"Maybe, but we die well. Now get to work." For a long moment they locked eyes, each fixed on testing the will and resolve of the man opposite, ten Remik sighed and turned away storming back to his post and angrily demanding an engineer tell him what was wrong. Rolan released a huge sigh of relief, noticing his hand was shaking uncontrollably. He wasn't brave enough to face death, but if he focused on his job and crew with luck he wouldn't have time to think about it before the Deathwalker finally arrived to take his soul to the after life.

Orbital Command

"Commodore sir, we ave a signal from Admiral Dokan!"

Broma was so relieved his stomach seemed to tighten as he allowed all the stresses and responsibilities crushing him to disappear. At last they had a genuine flag officer in touch who could take over command of the planetary defences. "Put him through immediately!" Broma said far too loudly to be dignified. The image on screen was small and grainy, the background was clearly not the vast command bridge of the _Corumai_ but one of its support craft. "Commodore Broma, I understand the situation is stable for now?"

"Yes Admiral." Broma nodded. "Dilgar forces have retired to the Ice belt beyond the planet Kara. They seem to be occupying themselves destroying our ice mining and colony stations."

"Any reinforcements?"

"Not yet sir, but we have intercepted coded transmissions from the fleet to Omelos." Broma informed. "It is likely more ships are on their way."

"Where do we stand?" Dokan asked. "Can we repel another attack?"

"Sir, our line was breached during the battle. We barely won this fight. The sudden arrival of a Free Balosian force was the only thing that turned the tide, if not for them we might have forced a stalemate but it would have been bloody."

"How many ships do we have?"

"Less than three hundred combat ready." Broma stated. "And of those all but fifty have suffered some form of damage, we are in a hell of a state Admiral."

"You can keep your opinions to yourself Commodore." Dokan chided. "What about planetary defences?"

"They are more or less untouched, we lost a few satellites but our heaviest cluster was protected by a contingent of Earth ships. Unfortnately sir with the damage our ships took we won't be able to hold a line beyond them if the Dilgar strike again."

Dokan's original plan had been for a two line defence of Brakir, with Warships on the outside and satellites on a second inner line between the planet and the enemy. It meant that if the outer line broke the inner line could still repel the enemy and hopefully allow reinforcements to arrive. This had been essentially what had happened, but in doing so that outer line of ships had been decimated. Now they only had enough forces for one single defensive line, and if that broke Brakir would be open to direct attack.

"Then we have no choice." Dokan intoned. "Pull back to high orbit, set up our ships and satellite grid to cover each other, and have someone tow the _Corumai_ back to dock."

"Yes Admiral."

"Commodore, did we get an identity on the enemy fleet commander?" Dokan asked. "Was it a black dreadnought with blood red markings?"

"No sir, we identified the Dreadnought _Conqueror._ Our intelligence believes the ship is commanded by…"

"…Her brother." Dokan cut him off. "A whole family of genocidal murderers."

"Yes sir. We have no idea where Warmaster Jha'dur is."

"Small favours." The Admiral allowed a smile. "But her brother seems to have learned a few techniques from his twin, we must treat him as cautiously as we treat her. I would dearly love to sally forth and strike while they rearm, but we can't. Organize relief parties for crippled ships, salvage what we can, Brakiri and Dilgar weapons."

"You want us to salvage Dilgar ships sir?" Broma seemed surprised.

"A gun is a gun Commodore, doesn't matter who made, just who it is pointed at." Dokan smiled thinly. "Strip the wrecks of anything offensive and group the debris over major population centres, it should absorb a few shots aimed at our cities."

"I'll get onto it Admiral."

"Thank you Commodore." Dokan acknowledged. "You did well Broma, you thought quickly and decisively and you saved our planet. For that you will make High Admiral."

Broma was glad of the praise, but really didn't want the responsibility of a higher rank. "Thank you sir. I'll prepare a new defensive plan, command centre out."

The image faded and Broma collapsed down into his chair. He still had a lot of vital work to do but at least he could leave life or death decisions to someone better paid and more experienced. His command centre was a mess with dust from the ceiling and pieces of bulging metal hanging over his head. The buried facility had taken a pounding from orbit and he guessed most of the surface installations were burning pits by now, he didn't even know if they could get out. But they had done their job and were content to wait for rescue teams to dig them out. The battle was costly but no cities had been struck and even the orbital space colony stations were still in one piece. It was a reprieve, but a short one. The Dilgar were still intent on levelling Brakir and when they returned Broma didn't know of a single trick they had left to stop them. Their only hope was intervention by what was left of the League before it was too late.

Belt Alliance Gunship _Guardian_

"Anything yet?" Captain Grozny was getting very irritable. "That Vree back stabber had better be ready to leave right the hell now!"

"Still nothing sir." The Communications officer said. "But he doesn't seem to be moving anywhere without us."

"He isn't moving at all!" Grozny complained through his black beard. "We should be gone by now!"

On the other side of the bridge Paul Calendar was paying only slight attention to the conversation, they had a deal with a Vree trader called Tezel to follow out the Vree's jump point capable saucer after backing it up throughout the battle, unfortunately the trader seemed to doing a last minute deal with a Brakiri freighter and was apparently oblivious to the danger of a second attack, one both Paul and Grozny felt would smash the orbital defences and destroy Brakir. They had fought well and with a ferocity no one had expected the Brakiri to posess, but the Dilgar would not be denied victory and were regrouping for a future attack, it could be in hours or in weeks. Either way the crew were eager to leave right now.

"By the way Captain, I found out what happened to Mr Vinetti." Paul spoke up. "He jumpd ship and stowed away with the refugee transports, he'll be half way to Eridani by now."

Grozny scoffed. "Coward, just like a company man to get us into all this trouble then save his own butt."

"There's too many people like that." Paul observed. "No sense of helping their fellow sentients."

"Yeah, there is." Grozny agreed. "But if that waster Tezel doesn't get his butt in gear soon I swear I'll put a particle shot up his little grey…"

He was cut off by the ship suddenly jolting, forcing Paul, the Captain and anyone else not strapped in to grab hold of something. "Son of a…" Paul muttered.

"We under attack?" Grozny cursed.

"No sir, backwash!" the sensor reader announced. "A Descari light cruiser nearly side swiped us, can't have missed by more than twenty metres!"

"Crazy monkey idiots." Grozny grumbled referring to the Simian like appearance of the Descari race. "What are they in such a hurry for, they aren't going anywhere!"

"The Gate." Paul suddenly noticed. "The Dilgar haven't put a guard on the gate!"

"Confirm that!" Grozny spoke quickly to the sensor officer.

"Confirmed sir, they have pulled back behind the gate, they couldn't get back in range before we can make it through!"

Grozny laughed. "Screw Tezel, set course for the gate, full thrust!"

"Think we should tell him?" Paul asked.

"Let him work it out himself, little grey twit." Grozny said happily, his spirits firmly raised by the prospect of finally heading home. "Gotta love Dilgar military efficiency, they order a full withdrawal and no one dares disobey, even those guarding the gate."

"Yeah, I heard what happens when a soldier disobeys an order from a Warmaster." Paul shared. "Not pretty, what they do to aliens isn't as bad as what they do to their own people who screw up."

The Belt Alliance ships were among the fastest vessels made by humanity, neatly out accelerating Earth force's heavily armoured Frigates and Corvettes. Even so they were a long way behind the Descari ships but ahead of the other various alien vessels which had been trapped at Brakir by the attack. A pair of Markab ships were already powering up to follow them and a lone Hyach logistics cruiser was setting its course for the gate hoping to return home before the Brakiri tried to imprison them in orbit again.

"Are the Dilgar ships moving?" Paul asked.

"No sir." The sensor officer said. "No movement."

"None at all, not even fighters?" Paul frowned. "They wouldn't just let us go."

"Why not?" Grozny shrugged. "They aren't at war with us and if we leave it weakens the defences at Brakir. They should be escorting us out of here!"

"No, that isn't what the Dilgar are like." Paul began to throw ideas around his mind, all of them ended with their imminent deaths. "They don't let anyone just leave, they enjoy killing too much to give up a chance."

"Well their ships aren't moving." Grozny pointed out. "Maybe we just caught them napping?" he grinned "A cat nap."

"The Dilgar aren't fools, this is a trap Captain." Paul spoke firmly. "They wouldn't leave the gate open, this is too easy."

"There's nothing there!" Grozny waved at the sensors. "And even Dilgar aren't ruthless enough to rig the gate to explode."

"Captain I know Dilgar, and this is bad news!" Paul stressed. "Don't go through the gate, wait for Tezel."

Grozny looked from Paul to the sensor panel, then back at Paul again with a growing look of indecision. "This is our chance to leave!"

"It's a trap, trust me." Paul was confident enough to know he was right, and he had to convince Grozny. "The Dilgar never miss a chance to kill people, they delight in it and I guarantee you this is a trap. I guarantee it. It's why I came along, to keep us all safe. Change course Captain, don't go through the gate."

Grozny looked hard at Paul and the freight Captain did not blink but instead held the Belters gaze. "Helm," Grozny said with a sigh still looking at Paul. "Alter course, forty degrees starboard."

"Forty degrees starboard, aye sir." The officer replied. "The rest of our fleet is following our course."

"Balosians." Grozny pointed to the sensor screen. "Their ships are preparing to jump out of the system, maybe they'll give us a lift?"

"Thank you Captain," Paul smiled in relief. "This is the smart thing to do."

"Beats waiting for that Vree waste of space." Grozny stepped away and nodded to the communication officer. "Balosian fleet, this is Belt Alliance fleet to your port side. Can you receive us?"

After a brief moment of translation the reply filtered through. "Belt Alliance Fleet, this is Cruiser _Seffensa_, we hear your signal. We notice you fought well against the Demons, you have our respect for that."

Grozny frowned and mouthed the word 'Demons' to Paul, who pointed to the Dilgar fleet on the long range scans.

"Thank you." Grozny answered. "We are just a small fleet of traders, not warriors. But we need your help."

"Our help?"

"We do not have the ability to form our own jump points, we would like to accompany your fleet into hyperspace and then head home to Earth."

There was a pause before the answer. "We have heard of Earth." The Balosian commander said slowly. "We have heard of _Persephone_, it seems the Demons do not greatly like your people. That makes you friends of ours." There was a rasping which might have been laughter. The mention of the _Persephone_ brought back some dark memories for Paul of his time on Tirrith where the Earth Force cruiser had stood against a Dilgar fleet. "We will open the way for you, and we make the offer to join us."

"Join you?" Paul asked, breaching the protocol that only Captain Grozny should conduct negotiations.

"Yes, in our war with the Dilgar." The voice said. "The Demons took our home, and we will take it back but we know we are too few. We need allies, and you have proven worthy fighters."

Something inside Paul leapt at the idea, the notion of fighting to liberate a whole world was strangely appealing especially when the enemy was the Dilgar. He had never even idly thought about becoming some sort of freedom fighter, but now he was not so quick to dismiss the idea.

"Thank you, but we must decline." Grozny answered while Paul as still lost in thought. "We have a duty to our own people right now and I must get this fleet home, it isn't my decision to make, I'm sorry."

"We understand." The Balosian commander said regretfully. "Perhaps one day our ships will battle side by side, but until then we will help you return home. Take position between the rear ships in our formation, you may follow us into hyperspace."

"Thank you commander, and I speak for everyone here when I wish you luck in your battle." Grozny said, then closed the channel. "You heard him helm, move us into position." The grizzled Captain gave Paul a mildly disapproving look for stepping on his toes in the talks, but it was nothing serious and he streadied himself in the gravity-less ship for the jump.

"The Descari ships just went through the gate." The sensor officer said. "It was a normal transition."

"It doesn't matter." Grozny said. "Trap or no trap at least we're getting out of here with these guys."

Paul nodded. "They're good people these Balosians. Their planet fell over a year ago and they are still out here fighting to free it."

"Yeah, I respect that." Grozny agreed. "And you know if I were Balosian I'd be doing the same thing."

"We should help them." Paul stated. "Heaven knows they deserve it. To have the Dilgar occupying their world? It is a small mercy but I'm glad they took Balos as a slave world, at least the population will have a chance to survive."

"Its tough for them, but we can't do anything." Grozny said. "We have to get back and report back to the Belt Alliance executives, they're going to want to know how we lost two ships and thirty fighters."

"You're guys fought like hell you know." Paul said. The deaths here should not have happened, and Paul felt he had a responsibility for them. If he had said no to the mission, if he had protested directly to the BA executives about the utter foolery of heading towards the frontline of this vicious war those people might still be alive. "As good as real soldiers."

"We are real soldiers." Grozny smiled. "We just get better pay and can wear our own clothes to work." His jovial expression faded. "And they will be remembered, they might not get a plaque or memorial like the folks on the _Persephone_ but in our own way we'll keep the memories alive. We know this is a risky job, and you know it too, but we just accept it and get on."

Paul nodded but could not find any words to say. He had seen way to much death and despair for any normal to deal with. He had changed after Tirrith, and in a way he had changed again today. He and the rest of the Belt Alliance crews were leaving as different people.

The Balosian ships ahead opened their jump points and began to leave, the last two cruisers holding back while the Belt Alliance fleet moved into position. The blocky ships made the jump behind the more graceful ex-Centauri warships the Balosians had purchased and retreated to the torrents of hyperspace.

"Captain sir, distress calls!" Communications reported. "Descari frequency!"

"The ships that used the gate before us." Grozny paled, it was a trap. "Let's hear it!"

The officer patched it through, a harsh alien voice sounded crackly on the speakers before being translated into English. "Any ship, any ship we are under attack! Dilgar ships waiting on the beacon behind the gate, they fired on us as we crossed over! One ship destroyed, two ships powerless and drifting, we need help! We are caught in the currents!"

"Can we get a fix on them?" Grozny asked.

"Barely sir, they are already moving far off beacon." The Sensor officer said.

"We still have time to rescue them." Grozny said.

"No you don't." Paul said quietly, his voice heavy with meaning. "They're bait. The Dilgar could jam their signals but they don't because they want help to come."

"Doesn't matter, we know they are there so we can fight our way through, with the Balosians we could…"

"Captain, we can't." Paul spoke louder. "You said it yourself we are no match for a real warship, even with the Balosians if the decide to help, we can't save the Descari. The moment we got close the Dilgar would destroy them out of spite and then use us as bait in their place. I want to help, I really do, but if we go we won't help anyone."

Grozny fought a battle within himself, a battle between his responsibility to his crew and the shared bond between space farers to answer distress calls no matter the risks. It was a short battle, but an eternally devastating one. "Then I guess we have no choice." He spoke bitterly. "Hold course, keep us off the Brakir main beacon and use the Kara beacon as our waypoint. Take us to Altair."

"This is the only right decision." Paul said. "We can't help, but we can remember this as how the Dilgar make war."

"I'll remember." Grozny said coldly. "We shouldn't even be out here, why the hell are we getting caught up in all this?"

"Sooner or later everyones going to get caught in it." Paul said. "We just gotta be ready. The Dilgar won't stop here no matter what the rest of the League thinks. We have to make Earth realise this fleet is coming our way and they will attack us one day, and we have to win." Paul looked at the sensors. "Or else we'll end up like the Balosians, if we are lucky."

The two fleets locked on to separate beacons, the Belt Alliance ships turning rimward while the Balosians headed coreward. Paul watched them leave, guessing they were heading to hit the inevitable supply convoys that the Dilgar forces at Brakir had requested. He hoped they wiped out every ship they found. As far as Paul was concerned the Balosians were the bravest people in the galaxy, flying from battle to battle with the sole intention of killing Dilgar and trying to raise a force that would liberate their homeworld, there was an Alacan ship out there somewhere trying to do the same thing. Unfortunately it looked like nobody was going to be able to help, the only people motivated enough to fight the Dilgar were already up to their necks in battleships and clinging on to survival for their own species. By the time the Free Balosians were able to find help it would be too late.

Paul had no fleets or armies, but he vowed there and then to help the Balosians any way he could, and to make sure Earth never suffered the same fate as Alaca or Balos.

Yonog, Colony world

Hyach Gerontocracy.

The burning shell of a Hyach fighter flipped crazily backwards through space, its pilot killed the instant he had tried to meet a Thorun in equal battle. Hyach Dartha class fighters were minor miracles of technology armed with respectable guns and possessed of great speed and higher than average agility thanks to their advanced gravitic systems. However the Dilgar pilots had planned for this and still had an advantage in weapons, armour and the ability to fire off axis. They didn't bother chasing down the nimble Hyach craft but drew them in towards the Dilgar formations before suddenly throwing their Thoruns about and greeting the Hyach with head on bolter fire. The simple brutality had taken the more refined Hyach by surprise and losses were heavy, even more so because none of their leaders had thought to alter their fighter tactics. The Hyach Admirals had far more pressing concerns.

The Dilgar fleet had managed to attack at exactly the worst possible time for the Hyach, the bulk of the Hyach combat flet had assembled here at Yonog as a deterrent to the Dilgar, a mass gathering of force which would be quite capable of shredding full scale Dilgar fleet groups. The Hyach had incredibly vicious ships, something of an unpleasant surprise to those races who regarded the Hyach as a peaceful race like the Abbai. While it was true they shared much with the Abbai in terms of philosophy and in fact both races were firm friends and natural allies because of it the Hyach themselves had no problem employing military force aggressively to protect their peace and to that end had put together a terrifying fighting force. The Hyach were one of the older races in the local galaxy emerging not long after the last great war against the darkness. In that time they had developed a mastery of laser based weapons and artificial gravity all of which had reached a culmination in their warship designs.

The central weapon of the Hyach fleet was a spinal mounted laser cannon, a weapon unparalleled within the League despite many attempts to duplicate it and with a destructive power approaching the whispered tales of Minbari warcruisers. These huge weapons would neatly remove anything the Dilgar could build in a fraction of a second if they got a clean shot, and the surprisingly agile capital ships of the Hyach navy were quite capable of meeting the Dilgar in open battle and winning. Jha'dur of course knew this and had absolutely no intention of letting the Hyach fight on their own terms. For all their heavy weapons the Hyach lacked a decent defensive system, while they could swat any opponent from the sky at long range once a force got close enough the slow arming and tracking heavy guns were next to useless, and while escort cruisers and Dartha fighters were troubling to most light ships and fighters the Dilgar relished the challenge and drove through the escort screen to fall upon the main force of Hyach battleships.

"Keep us moving in." Jha'dur said calmly from her luxurious command chair in the centre of the flagship's bridge. "Ignore the escorts and focus on the Dreadnoughts and battlecruisers."

"There are some satellites locking on." Captain An'jash reported. "They seem rather well armed, laser based weapons."

"Detail a fighter wing to clear the air, but keep them from the main orbital base." Jha'dur cautioned. "I want bombardment squadrons up here to take on that base, sent a few rocks down its neck."

Warmaster Jha'dur was monitoring the situation extremely carefully, the Hyach were moving rather slowly to counter the sudden attack and for the moment were completely at her mercy, a feeling she had grown to savour. The Hyach warships were assembled in one large group in high orbit of the colony under the watchful guns of an automated satellite defence grid and patrolling escort ships. It was a formidable screen but did not really concern the Warmaster, they were no where near the same level of threat as the Hyach fleet itself. So far those major ships had not moved although some seemed to be powering up. It was the perfect window of opportunity.

"The ships are uncrewed." Jha'dur realised, a wide smile crossing her face. "Their officers and men must still be on the surface relaxing." She could feel herself almost growing lighter with excitement, they hadn't just surprised the Hyach they had caught them completely unawares, it looked like they didn't even have skeleton crews on their heavy ships. It was simply too good to be true. She quickly examined everything she knew about the Hyach, could this be a trap? This fleet made an incredibly tempting lure and it could well be nothing but an expensive trap. No, no she decided it wasn't. While she would sacrifice a full battlefleet if it meant annihilating her enemies main strength the Hyach never would, and reliable intelligence told her that this gathering here was a majority of the Hyach navy, too big to be risked as bait. The Hyach had been outmanoeuvred and would now pay for their lack of preparation.

"We need to bracket the Hyach ships, destroy them as quickly as possible." Jha'dur said. "Fighter wings nine to seventeen, Hyach crew shuttles are lifting off from the planet taking officers to their ships. You will kill every single one of them. Fighter wings one to eight, remove the orbital defence platforms. Wings Eighteen onwards will break and attack targets of opportunity."

"Orders being sent Warmaster." An'jash replied dutifully, outside the fighter battle was already intensify, the flagships pulsar guns knocking out a particularly brave Hyach pilot trying a strafing run on the inky black warship.

"I want you to split the fleet." Jha'dur said calmly. "The first unit will proceed to put themselves at the rear of the Hyach ship and will hit them with every weapon they have, then close in and finish them off."

"Yes Warmaster." An'jash was not happy about splitting the fleet, but trusted her leader.

"The second group will follow us inside the orbit of the Hyach force."

"_Inside_ the orbit Warmaster?" An'jash gaped, it was an unthinkable tactic. The Hyach ships that were coming on line were going to be much slower than their Dilgar opponents because they had to move in the gravity well of the planet in high orbit. But sending half of her fleet into low orbit would make the Dilgar ships even more sluggish, completely throwing away their speed advantage.

"You heard me correctly." Jha'dur smiled with pure enjoyment. "All their satellite weapons are facing outwards from high orbit, if we slip behind the fleet and attack from planetside they are totally defenceless. They are completely at our mercy, and we will show none."

"As you wish Warmaster." As far as An'jash was concerned this was an almost suicidal risk, but like the rest of the fleet she trusted her Warmaster completely, and hoped the reputation for victory stayed with her today.

The fleet began to move apart, separating into different strike wings under Jha'dur's orders. From a distant they moved like a swarm of locusts, dark and fluid swirling around to envelope the Hyach battlefleet while it was still unable to fight back. On the planet and the orbital facilities pandemonium was breaking out as military personnel scrambled for the first shuttle heading for the fleet, strrets were heaving with half dressed naval crew moving by the tens of thousands toward the various space ports centred around the main colony settlement. Fighters streaked up into the sky above them and even in the bright morning sky it was possible to see the flashes of explosions from the battle raging above. Personal communicators chirped like an army of crickets amid the crowds as message after message filtered through to the naval crews demanding they return to their ships at once, and the marines at the spaceport were having a tough time keeping the crowds back.

The situation in orbit was almost as bad, the main starbase was also hosting a large number of ship crews on shore leave, not to mention a conference of leading Admirals discussing ironically enough how to resist a Dilgar attack. They now found themselves just as powerless to get to their commands as the crews, the corridors were blocked with jostling military personnel and civilians desperate to get off the station before a Dilgar dreadnought decided to finish them. The station itself was gently shuddering as its defensive batteries joined the battle and the gentle motion far from being reassuring was driving the occupants towards even greater panic. If the marines on the surface were having a hard time those on the station were completely losing control. In the confusion only three Hyach flag officers had made it to the stations command deck and they were facing an extremely desperate situation.

However the Hyach still had raw combat power on their side, the basic Hyach ship was worth any four Dilgar ships of similar class and this battle could turn in seconds if the Hyach made even a partial recovery. It was Jha'durs main concern to keep the Dilgar in control of how this battle developed, to keep the knife pressed firmly at her enemy's throat and never give them a second to breathe and come up with their own plans. The Dilgar fleet drove on, losing a pair of destroyers to the powerful defence satellites before they finally closed into their own weapons range.

"Weapons armed and locked." An'jash reported.

"All ships commence fire, fire at will." The Warmaster ordered. "Target the largest ships first, I want all of them destroyed." She grinned a little as she remembered something she had just been reading. "Cry 'havoc' and let slip the dogs of war."

An'jash made no comment on the remark, instead keeping to the orders she was given. The leading formations of Dilgar warships fired, laser and plasma bolts slicing through space in mass volleys and ripping into the curved hulls of the stationary Hyach warships, turning their pale sheen into twisted and blackened metal. The Hyach warships amazed Jha'dur, they had a flowing symmetry to them unlike anything she had seen up close, a design which reflected a type of natural beauty in stark contrast to the utilitarian Dilgar ships attacking them. The ships could have been born, or perhaps grown from the soil like great plants if she didn't know better, an organic appearance which seemed more art than function. Perhaps that's what they were, designed by artists rather than engineers, but they still packed a terrific punch and needed to be utterly destroyed, although she would greatly like to capture one. Jha'dur was no physisist or engineer, but she was intrigued to see how the Hyach Spinal lasers worked so that one day a Dilgar ship could carry one into battle. Or if she had her way, three or four such weapons. She smiled as she considered what the Centauri would make of that.

A few Hyach ships were active enough to meet the attack, two escort cruisers raced into battle matched by a few squadrons of fighters. A swarm of Thorun's swamped the group, stripping away the Hyach Dartha's and damaging the cruisers, making them easy kills for a squad of five _Oclavita_ class destroyers at the head of the Dilgar lines. With no central control each ship or squadron in the Hyach force was acting independently, some holding back to guard the unscrewed warships while others raced forward to meet the incoming attack, the fighter pilots on a whole tended to be more daring and as one squadron raced for the Dilgar it inevitably picked up more and more comrades reasoning a massed attack would do more harm. They attacked in remarkably good order, surprising and destroying a trio of Frigates before they could react and sweeping on towards the main fleet.

"Enemy fighters, two hundred plus incoming." Captain An'jash read out the report.

"Redeploy interceptor wings to meet them, and send the sixth Strike cruiser Pentacan to provide fire support." Jha'dur rattled off the orders. "But do not recall our fighters from the interdiction wings, it is imperitive they destroy the crew shuttles."

Closer to the planet Thoruns darted between the immense Hyach ships, looping under the leaf like hulls in pursuit of any targets of opportunity. A group of thirty shuttles were labouring up into orbit at full burn grossly overloaded with crew for one of the larger battlecruisers sitting silently in orbit. The ships had a few dozen crew left onboard to make sure no disasters occurred and there was a limited amount of supporting fire as those officers tried to support their brethren but they had little chance. A flight of six Dilgar fighters fell on the helpless shuttles with the ferocity and glee of ravenous wolves, bursting each shuttle with precise fire and killing the crews within sight of the relative safety offered by the battlecruiser. They let one shuttle almost reach tha hangar before destroying a few seconds before it arrived, the burning wreckage clanging against the ships hull.

Many shuttles were coming up alone or in small groups and were easy kills for the veteran pilots, but on the surface somebody must have taken charge because tey began holding launches until fighter support could be arranged, and then sent the shuttles up in escorted convoys. It took time, time that Jha'dur used to close in even closer and finish off a few more heavy warships but finally shuttles were beginning to get through and deliver their crews. Very slowly ships began to stir.

A Hyach fighter rolled over the hull of the dreadnought _Deathwalker_, its three comrades were shot down by the point defence guns in a flurry of light and released energies but through luck or fate the lead fighter survived, strafing the black warship and flittering off into space stubbornly refusing to be hit by the pulsar cannons. Waves of fighters from both sides mixed and mingled between the two fleets, often dodging between the much larger warships like trickles of water flowing between rocks. They fought their own battles barely noticed by the titanic vessels that surrounded them, living, dying, earning glory or bringing infamy to their names against the backdrop of the Dilgar cruisers mercilessly pounding the Hyach fleet. The Dilgar were masterful pilots, not merely because of their tactics and expertise, or even because they had one of the most notoriously effective fighters yet designed, but simply because they enjoyed it. They loved engaging in space born duels with their enemies, a new form of single combat the militant Dilgar society had long praised and held as an ideal all warriors should strive for. Most Dilgar considered the ideas old fashioned and were happy to enlist in the well drilled armies emphasizing strength in a unity of purpose, but there were still many who wanted to live to the old standards, and those type of people invariably entered the fighter wings of the Imperium.

It was a mixed blessing for leaders like Jha'dur, while the spirit these pilots brought meant they would fly headlong into certain death without comment their desire for glory could make them reckless and on rare occasions some would disobey orders in order to satisfy their personal honour and engage in a duel. The balance was a hard one to strike and while Jha'dur's pilots tended to be more disciplined than most they still had a certain independent spirit which would lead them to their deaths, or sometimes incredible victory. So far her pilots were sticking to their assigned roles and were furiously battling the Hyach defenders, bringing down Satellites and hunting Hyach shuttles and fighters.

"Warmaster, jump point forming, eighteen thousand kilometres to the rear!" An'jash reported briskly

Jha'dur sat up straighter, there were no Dilgar ships in the area beside her own. "Who are they? Numbers and classification Captain."

An'jash watched the display as the vessels entered normal space, instantly Jha'dur could tell it wasn't good. The Captain gathered her nerves and reported. "Hyach warships, one Dreadnought and two Battlecruisers."

Jha'dur nodded, it was a small force but if left unchallenged to their rear could cause a lot of problems. "Must be late arrivals for the fleet muster." She mused. "Despatch five Pentacans from reserve to deal with them, quickly now." She added calmly. "Keep the rest of the fleet focused on target."

Jha'dur remained fixed on the massed ships in orbit, one Battlecruiser had started moving and drawn the attention of a dozen nearby Dilgar ships, hitting it with massive barrages of energy weapons and gutting it in less than a minute before it could even arm its main weapons. A Dreadnought fell from formation, half its hull a molten wreck pushed out of stable orbit by multiple explosions and slowly spiralling down towards the colony, smashing into an empty frigate on its way down. Some of the faster Dilgar scout ships were now in and amongst the Hyach force supporting the fighters and killing any shuttles or fighters that drew near. One of them passed too close to the orbital base and was sliced in two by a bright laser cannon. A Hyach escort ship broke out from the fleet and engaged a Dilgar strike cruiser, by some incredible piece of luck its weak weapons managed to find a weak spot on the cruiser, setting off a chain of internal explosions which annihilated a ship with at least five times the firepower of the Hyach vessel. Yet despite these occaisional victories the Dilgar were still holding on to the initiative and Jha'durs ships were almost in final position to unleash their full fire on the Hyach.

To the rear of the battle the newly arrived task force had arrived fully armed and ready for battle, they had received the distress calls from the base and pushed their engines to the limit to join the defence. While their commanders and crews were shocked at the size of the Dilgar force and not hopeful about their chances of survival they had a job to do, and the Dilgar forces moving to intercept were standing in their way.

The spinal lasers on the three heavy warships built up to firing power, overcharging slightly to give the first volley some extra impact. Dilgar ships began to take evasive action, the small force Jha'dur had assigned to the mission split up and began driving forward as individuals intent on surrounding the Hyach task force and striking from the less well protected flanks, but the leading Pentacan of strike cruisers had the furthest distance to go if it wanted to clear the line of fire and it was obvious they weren't going to make it. The Hyach ships opened fire, lances of tremendous laser energy flashing across the void in an instant striking the leading Dilgar ships with unerring precision. The beams slashed sideways, touching each of the ships in the formation and reducing the powerful Strike Cruisers to clouds of hot gas and glittering shards. The whole Pentacan of five ships was destroyed in a terrifying burst of violence taking no more than a few seconds, a potent demonstration of what was in store for Jha'dur's fleet if the main Hyach force ever went operational.

Enraged by the their comrades being swept from the universe the rest of the Dilgar attack group pressed on with even greater purpose taking advantage of the long recharge time of the Hyach heavy guns. The dark green Dilgar ships fired on the pale green Hyach vessels, punching great holes in the closest battlecruiser. Secondary weapons fired back slicing apart another Dilgar destroyer with consumate ease serving to enrage the Dilgar even more. In a battle frenzy one of the warships pushed its engines to the highest limit, melting the internal workings and leaving them fixed at maximum power. The Warship loped ahead of its comrades, losing its port weapons to a laser hit but ignoring the damage. While the rest of the Dilgar ships fired with as much speed as technology allowed the leading ship passed over the damaged battlecruiser and in an act of fanatical hatred slammed headlong into the flank of the Hyach Dreadnought triggering a vast explosion which broke the back of the flagship and left it separated in two burning halves.

The remaining Dilgar ships swarmed over the two battlecruisers, receiving heavy damage to one of their own cruisers before concentrated close range fire finished off the small relief force. Jha'dur paid it a few seconds attention merely noting losses and results before keeping her attention fixed to the main orbital fleet. It was proof if the war council needed it that fighting the Hyach in an even battle would be extremely bloody for the Dilgar and an assault on the Hyach homeworld itself would be the next best thing to suicide. Unlike the Abbai the Hyach would happily fight the Dilgar all the way back to Shri-Shraba inflicting as much death and destruction as possible before retreating behind their steel walls of starbases and battlestations. They didn't have the interlocking defences which made the Abbai all but invincible, but they had enough raw firepower to gut the Dilgar navy in a day, which would severely curtail the war councils plans for the League as a whole. Taking the Hyach homeworld was going to need very careful planning to prevent a blood bath.

"Moving into orbit of Yonog." An'jash said coolly. "Second fleet group is about to cross the Hyach Axis."

"Order Warcaptain Kar'so to fire at will." Jha'dur stated. "Pass by the Hyach ships, draw the attention of any operational vessels and then swing around to follow us into orbit."

Hyach fighters were now constantly harassing the Dilgar fleet, the two forces were so close that it only took a few seconds for the fighters from either side to leave the relative safety of the battlelines and dash into the enemy fleets. Sadly the close range duels between the lines of warships favoured the Dilgar Thoruns, the need to avoid flying into a slow moving warcruiser or over shoot the target was robbing the Hyach interceptors of their speed advantage while the short sharp turns of the Dilgar Thoruns helped them use the cover of the alien and allied warships as ideal cover. A greater threat to the Dilgar were the ring of satellites that protected the Hyach ships from just such an attack as Jha'dur was executing, the small platforms were pumping weapons fire constantly into the Dilgar fleet and it was beginning to take a toll.

A Dilgar cruiser was holed by one of the satellites, the laser beam piercing clean through the ships hull and leaving it on fire and out of control. Thorun squadrons darted between the platforms hitting them with gun fire and missiles, wiping them out in droves. Hyach fighters responded and a merciless struggle grew around the defensive line as both sides wrestled for fighter superiority. Sometimes a Dilgar frigate would sweep in to help, annihilating a flight or two of Darthas before the satellite weapons returned the favour and cut down the warship. Likewise a Hyach ship would try and aid its fellow officers and for a short time it would make a difference before attracting the attention of one of the Dilgar fleet units. Both sides were wearing each other down but as Hyach crews began to arrive under heavy escort it would only be a few minutes before their capital ships could start entering the fight and swing it decisively in their favour.

"I want you to hold your fire until we pass as close as possible to the first Hyach ship." Jha'dur said calmly. "I don't want a single shot to miss, not a bolt or a missile."

The ships gun directors at the sides of the bridge ran one more diagnostic on their systems, if the Warmaster wanted every round to hit the Hyach then they were damn well going to make sure it happened. Jha'dur was slightly more forgiving of mistakes that most fleet commanders, but when she did give punishments the methods she selected were invariably the worst imaginable. It paid to make sure her orders were followed to the letter.

Jha'dur and put her part of the fleet into a low orbit about a quarter of the way around the planet relative to the Hyach fleets stationary orbit. Right now her forces were picking up speed allowing the planets gravity to sling shot them around the equator and gathering significantly more speed than should be allowed. It was Jha'dur's trick to avoid the effects of fighting in orbit, the gravity effects would usually make her ships sluggish but all she had done was use what to most would be a disadvantage and turn it into a strength. Her fleet would not be able to manoeuvre, just fly in a straight orbit but if her gun crews were skilled enough it would only need one pass.

"Passing the horizon now." An'jash checked their position relative to the planet. "Enemy fleet in sight!"

"All batteries prepare to attack, on my order only." Jha'dur announced. "Get me a visual on the closest Hyach ship."

Her main screen altered from the plain tactical map to show the flowing pale hull of a Dreadnought. The ship was showing signs of life and some of its smaller guns were firing on Thoruns attacking from the other part of Jha'dur's fleet group distracting the satellite grid with their lives. The warships main reactor was only just reaching peak power and none of its major systems were yet ready to engage her forces. The active Hyach ships and fighters were all on the farside of the fleet and there was absolutely no obstacle between her and the near defenceless fleet. It was better than perfect and she had to fight the urge to laugh out in triumph.

"Weapons officers, you will not destroy the ship in one pass, simply try and do as much damage as possible before changing targets." Jha'dur told them. "Each vessel will target the nearest ship as it passes and then switch targets to the next vessel in sequence. We will hit each ship in turn and let the fleet that is following us build up damage on the enemy. Speed is key, we will not linger."

Jha'dur's ships passed under the satellite grid, those few platforms which began to alter their position to engage the suddenly emerging threat were rapidly destroyed by the other half of the fleet or roving fighter squadrons. The Hyach knew what she was doing but simply could not formulate an adequate response, and it was with morbid certainty the command staff on the Yonog battlestation watched the Dilgar forces crest in orbit and lock weapons on the fleet. Jha'dur watched the ship on her screen grow larger, watched as the perspective changed showing she was almost along side. Escort cruisers were frantically doubling back to meet her, the few heavy ships which had power slowly began to turn to engage, fighting the cloying effects of orbital gravity but all of it was too late. The _Deathwalker_ and its heavy escorting force passed broadside on to the Hyach battleship barely a dozen miles distant, every turret slowly tracking up to maximum elevation.

"Main batteries," Jha'dur paused, closing her eyes for a second and taking incredible enjoyment from the moment. "Open fire."

The ship jolted as every gun fired in unison, her weapons fire joined a second later by that of her escorts eating into the Hyach ship. The enemy vessel shuddered and half of it was obscured in flames reaching out in bright orbs from the impacts, the white heat of weapons impact joined by the angrier red of secondary explosions. Her force had time for two volleys before their orbit carried them closer to a battlecruiser holding position beside the previous target.

"Shift weapons." She snapped. "Target the next ship in line, fire when ready!"

The _Deathwalker's_ guns spoke again, slicing into a Hyach battlecruiser which was only just powering engines. The first volley pierced its hull and severed the power feeds to its propulsion system sending massive plumes of plasma streaking from the hull along with ejections of wreckage. Behind her the second Pentacan of her force was engaging the damaged Hyach dreadnought she had just fired upon inflicting even more damage. As that group passed by the next Pentacan took up its work, blasting out immense slabs of armour and machinery from the titanic warship. After five passes the mighty ship finall gave up and was torn apart by a chain of internal explosions sending bright molten metal bouncing off the armour of its attackers.

The rolling Dilgar attack was causing critical damage to the fleet, and by constantly moving she was denying the satellite grid the chance of concentrating on one ship. Some defence platforms managed to engage but their effectiveness was limited by two factors, first they were firing through their own stationary ships severely limiting their arcs, and second they were pointing down at the planet itself meaning any stray shots that missed Jha'dur's ships would hit the colony below. It was an impossible situation, but the Hyach had more than just satellites at their disposal. The only way to safely engage Jha'dur was to match her orbit and take the force head on so the colony would not find itself in the arcs of its own defenders. She had put her ships in an ideal position and was making the Hyach do battle on unfavourable terms, it was one more reason to curse the name Jha'dur.

"Fighters on approach, dead ahead." An'jash warned. "They're heading straight for us!"

"Main batteries will continue firing on the Hyach warships." Jha'dur commanded. "Escort fighters, break and attack."

A precision hit from Jha'dur's warship struck the fuel cells of a Hyach heavy cruiser, dissolving it in an intense explosion. Against that backdrop dozens of fighters raced forward to meet the Hyach filling the space obove the colony with missiles and particle weapons. The front line of Hyach fighters were focused on the Dilgar fleet and were taken by surprise by the appearance of the Thorun's believing all the Dilgar craft were busy engaging the defence platforms. The first wave fell in seconds forcing the remaining Hyach Dartha fighters to split their attention between dogfighting and striking the warships turning a united solid group of fighters into a split force as different units pressed on with different targets. A few lined up on Jha'dur's flagship and flew into a crossfire provided by the small frigates and the light guns of her fleet not engaging Hyach warships. Nearly forty fighters were blown to pieces in seconds, the flight leader losing a wing and spinning out of control. Without engine power she was caught in a degrading orbit and began a long and fatal journey down to the planet below.

Further down the line a Hyach battlecruiser of the _Iroki Kam_ class had managed to get enough crew on board to bring it up to combat readiness. The officers onboard were from a dozen different ships, some of which were now floating wrecks, and had simply made for the closest intact warship rather than brave the marauding Dilgar fighters in their crew shuttles and take time to find their own ship. It left the line and moved down into low orbit putting itself directly in the path of the Dilgar ships. It held its fire until it was sure the laser could not harm the colony and then began locking on.

"Warmaster!" An'jash shouted.

"I see it Captain." Jha'dur replied calmly, putting a front on her sudden apprehension. "All escorts will direct fire at that ship, weapons engage at will."

"Shall we take evasive action?" her aide suggested, clearly nervous about being at the business end of a spinal laser.

"We're travelling too fast and in too low of an orbit." Jha'dur replied. "Neither we nor the Hyach will be able to avoid each other, we can only hope to destroy them."

An'jash read the incoming telemetry and watched as the vanguards weapons all tracked on the Hyach vessel. It was twelve to one odds against the battlecruiser and its fate was sealed, but that wouldn't really matter to her if the spinal laser managed to destroy the Warmasters flagship. She watched the power levels build up and silent warnings flash across the bridge. The Hyach ship was targeting Jha'dur's vessel as its main target and there was nothing they could do about it. The Warmaster herself wore an impassive expression as if facing death was nothing more concerning than buttoning a shirt. Jha'dur kept her eyes fixed on the visual display, daring the Hyach ship to take its best shot, goading them into attacking her warship and try to stop her before she went on and extermined the entire Hyach race. In the blink of an eye the entire destiny of this war could change. The battlecruiser fired, the beam racing towards the _Deathwalker_ and missing by metres, passing beneath it and removing an escorting dreadnought instead.

"They didn't account for our acceleration." Jha'dur commented casually. "Amateur mistake, are we in range?"

"Yes Warmaster." An'jash said weakly, her blood pumping so fast her ears were hurting. "Just crossing into range."

"Don't give them a chance to try again, destroy that ship." The Warmaster ordered, and within moments the valiant battlecruiser was reduced to unrecognisable scrap. "Well done, now return to firing on the fleet."

By now the Hyach ships were in a poor state, most of them had been destroyed or crippled before they could even attempt to defend themselves and Jha'dur's flanking force was still sweeping past sowing further destruction. The defensive line was being gutted from the inside out, and as it began to collapse the second Dilgar force on the other side of the Hyach fleet pressed their own attack, closing in and finishing off any damaged ships which tried to avoid Jha'dur's attack. It seemed things were going the Dilgar way with just one last exception.

"Warmaster, if we follow our current orbit we will cross between the planet and the local battlestation." An'jash reported with some urgency. Simulations had shown taking on a Hyach battlestation was an excellent way to lose a few dozen ships, and the speed with which Dilgar ships fell to fixed defences had been vividly illustrated by Jha'dur's brother at Ssumssha a few months before.

"I am aware of that Captain." She replied. "We will hold course and continue engaging the Hyach fleet."

"Yes Warmaster." An'jash had to be careful not to bring up her breakfast, going head to head with a battlestation was a mistake of the highest order and smacked of overconfidence. She reminded herself to have faith in her Warmaster.

"Bombardment group," Jha'dur activated the long range communications. "It's about time you were in position, report."

"Warmaster, all ships primed and ready to attack." A stern male voice replied.

"Your target is the battlestation." Jha'dur took a moment's pleasure in her aide's barely hidden surprise. "Commence attack."

Jha'dur was relieved her officers had a good sense of timing, she had deployed her main combat forces to bracket the Hyach fleet and hit it from multiple sides, using part of her force in a slashing attack designed to race through and devastate the Hyach's weakest quarter while the rest of the fleet pinned the enemy and mopped up afterwards. The biggest thorn was that station, it had no weak side and could cause serious damage before her ships even entered effective range. She didn't have the number of pure warships needed to quickly overwhelm it, but she did have a group of bombardment cruisers assigned to pacify the planet after orbital dominance was achieved. The mass drivers they carried were useless against enemy warships which could easily dodge the slow moving balls of energised rock, but the battlestation in fixed orbit had no such defence and so the Warmaster had sent the vulnerable ships to attack from long range, making sure the Hyach were too busy with her combat forces to notice them.

The bombardment ships shook as the driver coils began spinning the rocks in their grip, a deep rumbling heard throughout the ship and ratling the internal fittings. The bombardment ships were cheaply produced and lacked even the Spartan luxuries of most of their more combat orientated sisters including artificial gravity, the secrets of that technology acquired from the League and Centauri through espionage and simply shooting down stray ships and taking them back to Omelos for examination. With a final jolt the drivers were released and the asteroids hurled towards the Hyach base in a diminishing halo of blue energy. The attack was not subtle and the battlestation engaged the rocks as they got closer, breaking up some with laser fire or hitting them with multiple smaller guns and pushing them off course. The first two volleys were easily defeated but Jha'dur had been sure to bring a very large number of bombardment ships. The weapons on the base began to be strained, in the first volley they had pushed the incoming rocks not just out of the stations path but also clear of the colony. As more and more mass driver accelerated asteroids bore down they could no longer take the time to do that, and the first three asteroids fell onto the planet below on the outskirts of the main city.

Each successive attack came closer and closer as more asteroids were aimed at the station until finally one made it through, cracking the upper surface of the station and pushing the entire structure off its axis. Metal tore and snapped from the simple force of the impact, pale armour splitting along the seams and releasing great clouds of atmosphere into space. A second and third strike hit the base cleaving through a weapon station and embedding in the heart of the station further pushing it back and closer to the planet. The station defenders kept up their fire, bringing down more of the incoming projectiles but by now power was going out across the station as it was caught in gravity and began to fall. Stabilising thrusters fired but could do little to halt the descent as more rocks pounded the weakening structure. Stresses began to tell, bending key elements holding the station together and opening up yet more sections of the hull shedding internal components and unfortunate individuals into the rapidly degrading orbit. A gout of fire erupted as one of the Spinal lasers suffered a catastrophic overload and power flickered out across the station. The once mighty orbital fortress had been turned into a pummelled and shattered hulk spinning quickly towards the ground as more rocks struck it, hastening its demise. By the time Jha'dur's battle fleet was in range the station was already beginning to burn up as it touched the upper atmosphere.

"Excellent work Commander." Jha'dur congratulated the officer commanding the bombardment ships. "Redirect your fire to the colony, level anything you read on the surface."

"We're passing beyond the Hyach fleet Warmaster, we're leaving weapons range." An'jash said, she'd experienced such a roller coaster of emotions, from fear to relief to triumph she was just plain exhausted by now and she was just an observer to this battle, she had no idea how the director was feeling.

"Slow us down and break orbit." Jha'dur ordered. "We'll double back and help with the clean up, but no rush. It looks like everything is under control."

Sensors showed a few Hyach ships trying to run, Jha'dur already knew they weren't going to make it. In the chaos of the Hyach fleet itself there was going to be no escape, what few ships were still operational were being mobbed by her forces with no hope of escape. She'd given orders for a few heavy vessels to be captured if possible and was pleased to see breaching pods latching onto one of the more intact dreadnoughts, its advanced technology would be well appreciated by her colleagues in research and development.

"Captain, do we have a casualty report?" the Warmaster enquired in a conversational tone.

"Preliminary readings show thirty percent losses to fighters, about twelve percent among the fleet."

"Better than expected." Jha'dur allowed. "Our fleet did very well. In an open fight we expected to take eighty percent losses with no guarantee of victory. This battle just won us the war."

"With respect Warmaster, that is a bold statement." An'jash said cautiously.

"But accurate." Pointed out Jha'dur. "The Hyach and Brakiri were our two most formidable opponents on this front, both in terms of military power and crucially the ability to use that power relatively well. They both possess aggressive and quite well trained fleets with ships superior to our own, however as the first reports from Brakir show they are bottled up in orbit, and after today the Hyach will be unable to deploy a force great enough to truly threaten us."

"But their home defences are still enough to bleed us dry Warmaster." An'jash added.

"Only if we assault them." Jha'dur smiled. "Right now the Abbai are contained, trapped in a prison of their own making. The Brakiri are also confined to their home system where they will slowly begin to use up their resources attempting to hold us off. They rely on mining ice from comets to keep their population from dying of thirst, and my brother now owns all their ice mines." The Warmaster chuckled. "What delicious irony, their civilisation will fall as they attack each other for no more than a glass of water. We don't even have to waste one nuclear weapon."

"The Hyach are likely to hold out indefinitely." The aide suggested. "They are more unified than the Brakiri, more like the Abbai."

"They are, but like the Brakiri they will be cut off from the galaxy, growing ever weaker as we go ever stronger until one day we will have the power to enter their home system and wipe them from history." Jha'dur spoke with total confidence, as if it had already happened. "There is nothing now that can stop us, no single military power that has the skill or the desire to oppose us in battle and win. Markab. Yolu, even Vree, they will be out fought by our invasion fleets. We have broken the great powers of the League and now the soft innards are ours to destroy at our leisure. This is a great day Captain, today the Dilgar Imperium takes its place as a major power in the galaxy."

An'jash finally began to realise exactly what Jha'dur meant. "This is really our moment of victory?" she asked with some lingering doubt.

"Of course." Jha'dur kept her eyes fixed on the battlestation, now just a ball of blazing debris in the colony's atmosphere. Mass driver bombardment rained down across the planet and Hyach ships died behind her. It was an almost religious depiction of a hellish underworld of smoke, fire and death. All wrought by her own orders. She felt only pride at the notion.

"There is no one and no thing left in the galaxy that can prevent us gaining victory now, the galaxy will belong to us."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 32

Earth, Sol System

Dar'ro wasn't a normal member of his race, if any Dilgar could be called normal. He was a member of the elite special forces and infiltration commandos which had earned the name 'Spectres' thanks to their recently acquired stealth suits, a technology only a very few members of the Warmaster council knew the origins of. It was said even Jha'dur, his immediate superior, had not been informed of the true origin of the stealth suits, especially the original prototype Dar'ro had been given. The basic model suit manipulated light and certain sensor scans to make the wearer invisible even at relatively close ranges allowing a Spectre to become the perfect infiltrator or assassin. These suits were produced by the Dilgar themselves in an extremely lengthy and expensive process but they were just inferior copies of a handful of original suits somehow acquired by the Dilgar high command. One of those incredibly precious suits had been assigned to Dar'ro for this mission.

The battered shuttle rocked as it touched on the atmosphere, glowing briefly as friction began to heat the underside of the vessel. Jha'dur's forces had acquired the ship on the Brakiri colony at Comac, it was little more than a simple mass produced Brakiri light transport, a common sight in the League and one of many hundreds crossing Earth territory crammed with refugees. This ship appeared no different.

"Brakiri vessel, you are number four in the landing cycle." A human voice from far below informed Dar'ro. "Hold your course and speed."

He sent an acknowledgement and maintained his heading, following the flight path which was due to bring him in to the Los Angeles space port. Beneath him a vast blue ocean rushed by with scattered clouds whipping past the rapidly decelerating shuttle. He checked his position and got ready for the arrival on Earth.

His Warmaster had been very convincing when she had voiced her fears about humanity, she needed to know if these people were a threat to the Dilgar expansion and if they would at some point oppose her people. The Supreme Warmaster was leaning towards sending a diplomatic group to Earth to negotiate a treaty much as he had with the Narn Regime, though the journey crossed certain League territories and would be a risky move for the diplomats. Both the Supreme Warmaster and Jha'dur needed to know if the risk was justified, and for that information Dar'ro was the means of finding out. The shuttle dropped into a conventional landing approach, by now the tall towers of Los Angeles were visible on the horizon, almost like a meadow of white and glass blades of grass, some of which reached over a mile into the sky. He was moving at a few hundred miles per hour at about ten thousand feet altitude and it was nearly time to make his move. The stealth suit powered up and began to create its invisibility effect around him, though unlike the mass produced versions this suit had the ability to actually project a false image on its outer surface. In practical terms the Spectre could physically appear like a completely different person, and combined with an advanced voice synthesiser could even sound like another person, though a decent voice scan would detect the truth.

"Brakiri ship, you are next in the grid. Head for landing strip fourteen and begin descent."

Dar'ro complied, dropping the nose and streaking lower and lower over the Pacific. Jha'dur had been careful when selecting an agent for this mission, like any Spectre Dar'ro was a master infiltrator and all but unmatched in single combat, but more than this he was smart and adept at picking up information from languages to the tiniest of details. It was a remarkable gift, and in just two weeks he had learned enough English to hold a basic conversation and was still picking up more words everyday. More than that he had adopted certain elements of Earth culture, he knew slang terms and national idioms which were vital to just blending into the background and interacting seamlessly with his targets. He was as focused and dedicated as any Dilgar, a combination of extraordinary skills and total will power and that was why Jha'dur knew he was the only one who could survive on a world full of a race as cunning and observant as humanity.

His sensor display showed he was in position, and with the flick of a switch he tripled the fuel feed to the starboard engine. Within seconds the engine was overheating and generating so much heat the moisture in the ocean air around the shuttle created a white contrail arcing slowly downwards.

"Brakiri ship," the human air controller spoke with urgency. "Do you require assistance? Are you declaring an emergency?"

Dar'ro ignored the message, the shuttle shook violently as the engine began to reach critical heat levels. The inside wall of the cargo hold was beginning to glow red itself.

"Brakiri ship, you are losing altitude. Shut down engines and glide down."

The Spectre activated the side door, it flung open and a rush of cold air filled the shuttles inside and battering the straps and small crates within. Dar'ro had been given one more highly expensive item, a parachute made from the same material standard suits were made from which hopefully would not show up on the human scanners.

"Brakiri ship, you're coming in too fast and too low!"

Dar'ro chuckled, that was the plan. The blue water turned to sandy beach and then open land with a few sparse shrubs whizzing past. He braced himself in the doorway and prepared to jump, waiting until the last moment. He took one last look in the shuttle, fifteen Brakiri were still inside all of them poisoned by the Warmaster with an undetectable toxin of her own design. The shuttle would hit the ground with such force barely any trace would be left, but if the human investigators were even half competent they would find traces of nuerous Brakiri DNA signatures and believe this was a tragic accident to a ship full of Brakiri. If they had found just an empty ship it would have raised suspicion, this way his arrival would be completely undetected.

He leapt out, seconds before the engine exploded in fire and black smoke. His parachute opened instantly, after a brief flicker becoming completely invisible exactly as hoped. He watched the shuttle nose dive into the brushland just south of Los Angeles with a satisfying explosion before dropping safely onto the ground. He wound up the parachute quickly and began moving swiftly from the crash site before the area was filled with police and rescue services. He quickly checked his surroundings and found he was almost exactly where he had planned to make landfall, barely a few hundred yards from the major interstate highway. Dar'ro set off parallel to the road following it towards the towering skyline in the distance, long before he reached the city he would arrive at miles and miles worth of suburban housing which was where he would acquire his first disguise and from there begin his mission.

With a last glimpse at the intense fire consuming the wrecked shuttle he set off, the air already filling with the whine of jet engines from local rescue VTOL's and carriers. Even though he was maintaining complete secrecy that was one hell of an entrance.

Dilgar strike fleet

Yonog Colony, Hyach space.

Space by definition was always quiet because sound could not be transmitted through a vacuum, so perhaps describing the scene over the planet as quiet would be a poor choice of words. Jha'dur thought for a moment and decided that 'still' would be more accurate. The fighting was over and the Dilgar ships had moved away to assume defensive stations around their new planet just in case the Hyach wanted to try and take it back, though Jha'dur doubted they would. She had sent her reinforcements on a long journey which took them close to the Hyach homeworld before changing course and coming to join her at Yonog, hopefully it would scare the Hyach into thinking an assault was on its way to take their own system. She smiled at the thought, all in good time.

The planetary bombardment was still ongoing, a steady pounding of mass drivers were systematically levelling the entire planet's population centres reducing bright cities and agricultural settlements to burned out craters. The world would serve as a resource base, but like most of their other conquests it didn't have the infrastructure necessary to support the population of Omelos. Finding a suitable homeworld was proving difficult and the team of scientists monitoring the sun her home war orbiting were making more and more dire predictions. Her brother had been the one to first discover the problem over a decade earlier and by his estimate they had about five years before the magnetic field underwent a radical shift which would throw out a solar flare of unheard of magnitude. Omelos would have its protective layers of atmosphere stripped and every living thing would die, even single celled creatures would be irradiated to the point of death.

But the government was ready to act. Every action they had taken in the last decade had been geared towards saving their race, from the war to the construction of vast underground shelters. Plans for evacuation were well under way and ships had already been assigned to the task, the only problem was the incredibly daunting scale of the task at hand. All the estimates pointed to the war ending in victory by the beginning of 2232 about a year away, which would give her people about three years to evacuate the entire population of Omelos. The logistics command tasked with this mission reported that even using every one of their ships they would only be able to move at most a quarter of the population, about two billion people. There were plans to change this, from shifting warship production to the creation of titanic transport ships to cram in tens of thousands of people at a time to the construction of huge underground shelters to shield occupants from the coming disaster long enough for them to be evacuated even after the surface was scoured clean. Jha'dur believed in the abilities of her people to rise up and defeat adversity, but even the most optimistic experts agreed that billions would still be on Omelos when the sun exploded and the vast majority would die before help reached them.

The government thus had been given one more problem to solve, who stays and who leaves? Some of the answers were obvious, the Dilgar needed certain professions to continue growing in their new home so most of the workers in military industries and scientific research would be among the first to leave along with doctors, certain skilled teachers and administrators along with a slimmed down working government. Those in the serving military would likely be on other worlds as a result of the war anyway, but on Jha'dur's insistence the families of those soldiers would be the second priority for evacuation, without them there was a major risk of desertion or out right mutiny as warships tried to rescue their crews relatives. At the other end of the scale were the slave races of the Dilgar, those subspecies of the race conquered centuries ago and kept on as slave labour for the war factories. Their skills were useful but after the invasion the Dilgar would have access to a galaxy of slaves and they were eminently expendable. The old and infirm would also be abandoned, save those in positions of authority or who still had something to give to society. Compassion had never been a common Dilgar trait. Ultimately the best of the Dilgar species would escape and thrive in their new empire build from the ruins of the League, a smaller but more focused and powerful population. All they needed was a suitable planet.

"Warmaster, we have established a link to Brakir." Captain An'jash reported finally bringing Jha'dur back to the task at hand.

"Excellent Captain, you may open a channel to the flagship."

A moment later the familiar face of Warmaster Sha'dur appeared on her side monitor, he looked tired and angry but brightened when he saw his sister. "Jha'dur, good to hear from you."

"Brother, I am glad you are still alive, being killed by the Brakiri would be very embarrassing. Especially for me."

He laughed. "Yes, your embarrassment would be the worst part of my death!" he shook his head in amusement. "I take it the Hyach were no challenge?"

Jha'dur inclined her head. "It could have been worse, we caught them by surprise."

"Another great victory for Warmaster Jha'dur." He grinned. "You deserve it sister."

"We all deserve it." She corrected. "Every one of our people."

They took a moment of silence which was shared by both bridge crews before Sha'dur spoke again. "The Brakiri lines are still holding."

"So the preliminary reports said." She acknowledged grimly. "But not without heavy losses."

"I believe a second attack if launched soon will break through, but there is a problem."

Jha'dur sat up a little more in her chair. "What sort of problem?"

"Supplies." Sha'dur grimaced. "Or more precisely the lack of supplies. We haven't received our deliveries from the base on Roth yet even though they were timed to arrive just before the battle started so we would have them to hand."

This was serious, Dilgar operations were meticulously planned and laying out efficient supply lines was rightly seen as the key to lasting victory. If supplies were failing it threatened to stall the Dilgar advance and give the initiative back to the League if they finally decide to take a more active opposition to the invasion. "Did you find out why?"

"No one has answered, I was going to dispatch a ship in case they had run into trouble." Sha'dur said.

"Roth is a primitive planet, the natives haven't discovered gun powder yet." Jha'dur answered. "This isn't an outside force, it is incompetence." Jha'dur narrowed her eyes in disgust. "The last thing we need right now is incompetent officers."

"Shall I send a ship?" Sha'dur asked again.

"No, I will." Jha'dur replied. "In fact I will go myself, it seems the planetary governor needs a little adjustment of priorities."

"Sister, at least try and be gentle." Sha'dur said without much sincerity. "Planetary governors tend to have lots of political favours and allies, it could mean trouble."

"It is threatening the success of the war." She said bluntly. "With those consequences the Supreme Warmaster will support any action I take. You will have your supplies within the week."

"Watch your back sister, you know how much I hate politics."

"I will, and remember brother, don't Embarrass me by getting yourself kiiled."

"I won't." He smiled.

"Promise?"

"Promise." He confirmed. "We will speak soon."

Jha'dur set her jaw and fell back into the seat, she had taken a great deal of time planning strategy for the rimward front and she was damned if some jumped up governor was going to jeapordise the success her fleet had bled for. "Captain, tell Warcaptain Ker'so to take command of the fleet. He will hold position and continue bombing the planet. Mass drivers only, our other weapons are too expensive to waste here. Rocks are plentiful."

"And then shall I set course for Roth?"

"Best possible speed Captain, we will correct this while we have the chance."

Roth system, Dilgar occupied space.

Jha'dur shifted her weight in the cutter craft, the seat was not particularly comfortable and it added another layer of annoyance to this trip. In the past she had enjoyed a trip down to a planet in her personal vessel, until that craft was stolen by some wayward Human soldiers on Tirrith. At first she had been angry, unspeakably angry, but after a round of executions she had come to regard the irony of the humans picking her personal shuttle from a field full as quite amusing. While she was far from ecstatic about breaking in a new vessel she had to acknowledge that the Human troops had been worthy opponents to get the ship in the first place.

"Coming up on the central base." Her pilot informed. "Weather report indicates snow and freezing temperatures."

"They should have built the base in a more temperate area." Jha'dur sighed. "Put us down on the main landing pad, then stay with the ship."

The ship sliced through the white sky dropping below cloud cover and swinging around above the landing pad, the base beyond a simplistic series of concrete and metal buildings with a few communications towers mounted on their roofs. One noticeable feature was a defensive wall around the compound patrolled by armed guards, a number of whom watched the sleek green craft deploy its wheels and land on the snow covered pad, melting the ice for twenty feet on all sides with its braking thrusters and blowing the rivulets of water away in a low level shower. The engines shut down with a diminishing whine and the ramp at the rear slid down.

From the nearest building an agitated Dilgar officer strode forward, he was overweight and quite portly and moved with something of a waddle. At first he did not notice exactly what was going on and began yelling angrily at the shuttle.

"What do you call this!" he waved his hands at the craft. "You don't have a flight plan! You just drop down here with no warning and expect us to jump around and refuel you! Well the governor isn't pleased, and he'll throw you in…" the man skidded to a halt, performing a comical double take as he finally caught a glimpse of the figure stepping down from the ships rear bay. The Warmaster had decide the exercise of her authority required full military regalia and as such she had exchanged her standard duty uniform for her second best dress apparel. Her knee high boots were polished to a mirror finish while the gold braiding on her uniform jacket glinted in the brisk daylight. Covering most of the jacket was a long thick coat stretching nearly to the floor, its fur lining evidence that it had once belonged to some creature native to Omelos. Most notable were her more aggressive badges of rank, a gently curved sabre hanging by her left hip and an energy pistol by her right. Both were highly decorated but eminently functional.

The portly officer snapped to attention, offering a perfect salute. While at first glance he appeared a poor excuse for a soldier Jha'dur took a moment to look more closely. He was a member of Logistics command, the supply masters of the Imperium who kept the fleets and armies moving and fighting. As a supply base his presence was entirely normal but beneath the simple badge on his grey uniform indicating his role he also wore various badges of merit and service. The Dilgar were a violent race and as such the fighting men and women of the Imperium were respected and admired, although among a lot of the population the supply officers and rear line staff generally got less respect than the front line forces, some even sneered at them. Jha'dur of course new that they played a vital role and that many of the second line troops had once fought for their race directly. The man before her wore an assortment of small gold and silver triangles on his chest above his heart denoting medals given for valour. He had apparently been quite a soldier until he had been wounded, a small medal showing he had wounded fighting the Drazi some five years ago. Jha'dur guessed his injury was bad enough to invalid him out of the frontlines but not so bad he was useless to the army, so they kept him on as a quartermaster. To many former front line troops it was a living nightmare of boredom and lost opportunity.

"Warmaster! My apologies." He said quickly. "I…I didn't know."

She returned the salute formerly, showing her respect for an old soldier. "This is a surprise inspection." She said smoothly. "Where is the governor?"

"In his office Warmaster."

"Bring him to me immediately." She ordered. "I will be waiting here for him."

"At once!" he saluted again and quickly ran back towards the building. She didn't know what role the quartermaster played in this situation, whether it was helpless pawn or useful ally to the governor, but something was delaying supplies and Jha'dur wasn't going to stand for it.

If this situation was political, if someone wanted to make Jha'dur and her brother look bad she had to be careful how she proceeded. She had enemies in the council, and while sabotaging the war effort was unthinkably dangerous she knew there were soe ruthless enough to try it if it meant discrediting her. She paced a little in the snow, it was falling lightly from above and had already begun settling on cooler parts of the shuttle, the air was cold enough to mist her breathe and she watched absently as the cloud of vapour drifted high and disappeared. She needed the governor out here, it was all part of the game. If she went up there to see the governor while it would mean standing in his warm office she would be on his territory, and he would feel more comfortable and confident in familiar surroundings. But out here he was responding to her, it put Jha'dur in charge of the meeting much like picking her own time and place for a battle. Warfare and politics weren't all that different in hindsight.

After a few minutes the Governor arrived on the scene, he walked out of the building in a grey army uniform as opposed to the blue fleet clothes Jha'dur was more accustomed to. She smiled thinly as she noted he had taken time to put on a warm coat before coming out, instead of just rushing out to greet the Warmaster. Obviously he wasn't particularly scared of her, when she left he would be.

"Good Morning Warmaster, this is an unexpected surprise!" The Governor remarked.

"Brave man." Jha'dur said calmly. "You consider yourself more important than me?"

"Warmaster?" he came to a halt in front of her, the aroma of alcohol clinging to his clothes.

"You speak to me without awaiting permission." She said, while her voice was level her eyes were piercing through the Governors façade. "You try to lead this discussion, to dominate me. You have a lot of confidence, especially for the Governor of such a lowly planet."

"Warmaster, I mean no offence." He bowed when in truth he should have saluted. Jha'dur was not royalty, she was a flag officer. Once more she saw it as a veiled insult to her personally, and she had to focus her mind on the situation and away from possible research opportunities.

"If I speak to the council and ask who moved for your assignment, will I be told it was Warmaster Len'char?"

The Governor did not speak immediately, which was confirmation enough for Jha'dur. "If I remember he was one of my sponsors, yes." He replied, not seeing the harm in that fact.

"So the question is whether or not Len'char is fool for putting such an incompetent Governor in charge of supplies for fleet group Brakir, or in fact is a very shrewd politician. " Jha'dur mused on the subject. "In either case it can wait. Where are my brother's supplies?"

"Warmaster, supplies?" he seemed a little surprised by the direct question.

"Four hundred and fifty thousand tons of refined fuel, seventeen thousand spare energy cells, three months of food and water, two hundred Thorun class Ion engines and two crates of Brandy." She said from memory. "All we're sent from Omelos two weeks ago to this forward logistics base, so where are they?"

The Governor looked to his quartermaster who stood at full attention, offering no help or sympathy. "There was a problem."

"A Problem?" Jha'dur raised a long eyebrow.

"Yes Warmaster, a raid." He said. "An attack by terrorists."

"Terrorists?" she said in mock surprise. "How terrible."

"Most of the supplies were destroyed outright, they hit our main facility where the storage tanks and warehouses were."

"But not the Brandy." She glared at the Governor. "I can smell that at least some survived."

He blinked nervously and involuntarily leaned backwards.

"I sincerely hope you do have powerful friends." Jha'dur spoke quietly. "Because you have made some powerful enemies. Now tell me exactly what happened."

"Terrorists, from a collection of nearby villages, that's the truth!" he said quickly. "They took us by surprise!"

"The natives haven't advanced past a medieval society yet, precisely haw did they defeat you?"

There was another pause which further annoyed Jha'dur. He could at least have the courtesy to lie faster. "They were riding on animals, they overwhelmed our defences and destroyed the supplies."

"And our troops, the ones armed with rapid fire guns and tanks, where were they?"

"They were elsewhere, on deployment." The Governor began to squirm at last, perhaps realising his friends in the council weren't going to help him soon enough. "Hunting the raiders."

"Indeed." Jha'dur stepped forward, and satisfyingly the Governor stepped back. "I don't believe you. Quartermaster, do you like this posting?"

The portly officer stood a little straighter. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Denied." The Governor snapped. "This isn't the issue."

"Granted." Jha'dur glared at the Governor. "Interupt me again and I will personally remove your vocal cords."

The Govornor backed down, a little paler than before. The Quartermaster smiled briefly and spoke. "This is a sad excuse for an outfit Warmaster." He stated, drawing a glance from the Governor he promptly ignored. "Troops are ill trained and lazy, officers have no responsibility, most of the time the staff just talk and drink."

"I see." Jha'dr said. "And the supplies?"

"They were destroyed." He confirmed. "But only through negligence, they were totally unguarded and the natives just walked into the facility."

"Thank you quartermaster." Jha'dur nodded. "You are hereby promoted," she smiled, "to Governor."

"Wait, you can't do that!" the original Governor exclaimed. "Not without permission from the council!"

"After my report there will be no objections, even Len'char would not want to be associated with this shambles. You have endangered the success of the war and cost the military dearly. You are relieved and placed under arrest until I find a fitting punishment."

"This is intolerable!" he yelled.

"Quatermaster, I grow tired of hearing his voice." Jha'dur sighed. With a quick drive of his fist the bulky Quartermaster hit the former Governor, laying him out flat. "Have somebody take him away, then find me a company of soldiers who are still sober." She stepped over the unconscious man and set off walking at a brisk pace, long coat billowing behind her. "I'll restore order to this planet myself."

Three hours later Jha'dur was stood behind an armoured car with the only half intelligent officer on the planet and eighty well armed soldiers. The garrison at Roth was an unspeakable disgrace and an insult to the professional and fierce reputation Dilgar soldiers had earned across the galaxy. The forces present were quite few, no more than brigade strength tasked with guarding the administrative building and the sole supply compound a hundred miles to the north. There was a simple satation in orbit with a few hundred personnel onboard but most of the Dilgar presence was here on the surface. None of these warriors could reasonably expect to take on the Drazi or Brakiri in their current state and she was mentally listing the most vicious drill instructors she could remember for assignment to this world.

However the state of the troops was not her real concern, there was a conflict brewing at home and it was personal directed at her. Jha'dur knew full well that her actions were first and foremost directed towards ensuring the survival of the Dilgar as a race through two means, first securing a homeworld and second the creation of a serum to extend life and combat disease. While the second goal was still beyond her, and may in fact never be realised, the first goal of securing living space was quite easily in her grasp, especially after recent victories. Her success was clearly earning her some influence back on Omelos and the public followed her progress with great interest and enthusiasm giving a great deal of temporal power, which made her political rivals nervous. Jha'dur couldn't care les most days, politics could wait until after the League had bled to death at her hand but it seemed her rivals were not so patient, and the actions on this world were the first subtle attempts to blunt her success regardless of what the consequences for Omelos were.

While she wasn't concerned for her own politically career she haboured a seething hatred of those who would create failure in the war for their own ends and benefit. Not only did it jeapordise the future of her race it also meant any blame ultimately came to a head at the feet of the Supree Warmaster, a man Jha'dur considered to be almost her father.

The nine members of the Dilgar war council were each supposed to be the heads of the major military departments, Jha'dur was in charge of Military Science, research and development, Warmaster Len'char was in charge of Covert operations and intelligence and so on. While all ranks were equal and held the same authority there were three positions which demanded greater respect than the others, Head of ground forces, head of the Navy and highest of all Master of Grand Strategy, a post held by the Supreme Warmaster. The job was to oversee all the other departments of war and ensure everything ran exactly according to plan, with a war on the scale of the current operation that was a Herculean task and made no easier by this internal bickering and power games.

Most Supreme Warmasters barely lasted two or three years, they either broke down under stress or suffered unfortunate medical accidents resulting in an early death, some were genuine others thinly veiled assassinations. So far Gar'shan had held the reigns of power for eight years, only one other Supreme Warmaster had lasted as long and he did it by killing his subordinate Warmasters on a whim. The fact he had steered his people through this most trying time was a testament to his greatness, a reputation now threatened by Len'char. Organizing the war was Gar'shan's main role, other warmasters had the time to lead fleets but Gar'shan was far too busy and the old leader barely slept anymore, and if supplies failed to reach the frontlines for whatever reason it would be seen as Gar'shan's failing. Jha'dur would be damned before she saw that happen to her mentor. Gar'shan was working himself into the grave for his people, his health was failing and you didn't have to be a biologist of Jha'dur's calibre to see that. He knew it himself which was why he was keen to name Jha'dur as his successor, but if he was discredited by those whose ambition outweighed their dedication to their race it was likely the leadership of her world would go to the worst possible people and they would be doomed.

"Warmaster, a message from your warship." Commander Ba'sai announced. He was a young looking officer who hadn't been on the planet long enough to fall into the worst habits of the garrison, his troops were in the same position. They were fresh from basic training with no taste of real battle, but hopefully they would keep their wits for the next few minutes.

"Captain An'jash." Jha'dur spoke into the console. "Where are they?"

"Less than a mile from your position Warmaster." The white haired officer replied from orbit. "Sensors show eight thousand native warriors riding on domesticated beasts, they will arrive from the east in a few minutes."

"Thank you Captain, keep me informed of any changes."

She ended the message and examined the battlefield soon to be choked with enemies. It was a simple plain with a ridge about two thirds of a mile distant beyond which the enemy was coming. She was deploying her forces to meet the raiding parties which had overrun the supply base and were now riding on the capital buildings that the Dilgar had installed. They were simple warriors mounted on omnivorous four legged creatures that roamed the fields and tundra of Roth and were rarely a threat to any armed Dilgar soldier. It was well within Jha'dur's power to order an orbital barrage or airstrike to wipe the entire army out in a fraction of a second, lost in a nuclear blast beyond any comprehension. But that was too simple, she wanted these troops with her to see battle, to meet an enemy face to face and kill them. It was the best way to turn unsure recruits into soldiers.

The soldiers themselves were sheltering in a few narrow trenches dug into the frozen ground resting their rifles on the parapet and waiting in silence, some were too nervous of the coming battle to make small talk but most were keeping quiet because of the proximity of thei Warmaster. These soldiers at least recognized her reputation. The eighty troops had with them five heavy repeating guns set up on tripods automatically scanning the horizon under the control of the central command post headed by Ba'sai. They had arrived in four combat vehicles armed with their own turreted repeater guns and projectile launcers, plus a set of automated mortar launchers on their rear hull. They were heavily outnumbered but had the ability to deliver a significant amount of fire power into the face of the native troops. They may not have been confident but Jha'dur was.

A distant booming noise attracted the Warmasters attenton, a resonating thud from behind the ridge getting progressively louder and closer.

"That must be them." Ba'sai remarked. "Drums to help them keep time."

A lone figure crested the snow topped ridge, arms rising and falling as he hit a simple looking drum which seemed to be the origin of the sound. Jha'dur watched in quiet fascination as he quickened the pace and was joined by the thumping of more drums somewhere beyond the ridgeline.

"They must want to intimidate us, they don't have a clue." The commander scowled.

"You have to look at their mind set." Jha'dur said. "They don't understand the weapons we possess, they will attack us as they would any enemy. This is a fascinating display, pay close attention because it will never be repeated again in this galaxy."

Ba'sai nodded in understanding, in a few minutes this army would be corpses.

"This is warfare like you will never see." Jha'dur said in genuine excitement. "This is how we fought several hundred years ago, swift warriors charging headlong into battle." As she spoke she remembered her studies into human history, they too had used large creatures to carry them into battle. She expected a human observer would find the coming battle equally impressive and appreciate it just as she did.

Warriors now began cresting the ridge in large numbers to the thump of the drums, each of them on a mottled green and brown creature standing around eight feet tall. Through her binoculars she observed the warriors were armed with long swords and lances topped with small red pennants marked with a simple yellow sun. the flicked and rippled in the slight winter breeze as the warriors took their positions and waited.

"They really are going to charge us head on aren't they!" Ba'sai scoffed. "This is absolutely ridiculous."

"It is magnificent." Jha'dur said wistfully. "This is how war should be, pure and untouched by technology. We fight face to face with only courage to earn us victory. It isn't about who has the largest nuclear weapon or the fastest ship, it is about who has the greater courage and the will to seize victory no matter the cost."

Ba'sai shifted his weight but did not answer back.

"These are real warriors." The Warmaster continued. "This is the standard we all aspire to, forget tactics and weapons drill! They make efficient soldiers but they do not make you warriors, only courage from within does that!" she turned to Ba'sai. "The Dilgar are unique, we have the dedication and courage of those men over on that hill combined with the cold efficiency of a well drilled modern army. The soldiers on this planet have neither, but you will learn either the easy way, or the hard way."

"Forgive me Warmaster, what is the hard way?"

She smiled. "An immediate transfer to Fendemir on the Drazi front. We've been fighting their for months, it will teach you how to be a good soldier or it will kill you. At this point either result benefits the Imperium."

Ba'sai gulped down his fear, stories of casualties from the Drazi front had arrived even here. "Company, load weapons!"

Along the Dilgar line the charging of energy packs whined while the armoured vehicles clunked shells into their main cannons.

"Prepare to fire!" Ba'sai continued and the soldiers raised their rifles, repeating guns tracking left and right focused on the different targets.

On the ridge ahead a lone voice called out, at the front of the native warriors a single mounted warrior was calling something to his people and as one they answered, a deafening roar of voices which was still loud when it reached Jha'dur. The lone warrior began leading his people in a chant, a long sonourous raising and falling of voices calling upon whatever deities they worshipped for protection and victory.

Jha'dur suddenly wanted more on this culture, she wanted to know what they were saying and who they were worshipping. She wanted to know if they had pre-battle rituals and how they celebrated victory or remembered defeat. She wanted to know if the city states of this world had ever before united to face a powerful enemy or if this was the first time. The idea of a whole world of primitives setting aside their ancient feuds to meet her in battle triggered a sense of wonder in Jha'dur It was one thing for League ships to join in battle with the Dilgar, but a race with no concept of aliens until recently creating an Alliance was something very special.

The scientist which lived in her heart was asserting itself, she was completely transfixed by the splendour of the scene as the army arrayed for battle, cheering and chanting in unison as bright banners waved and drums pounded. In all her thoughts she had never even casually expected to see something like this, it was so far removed from her normal life and duties she could have been looking at it through a dream. She walked forward with her boots crunching in the snow leaving compacted footprints behind her. Putting aside the binoculars she stepped closer to the lines and took in the full spectacle, the massed formation of troops spread out taunting their opponents.

"On my command!" Ba'sai yelled. "Ready! Open…"

"Hold!" Jha'dur shouted with a snarl. "Hold your fire!"

Ba'sai's words died in his mouth in front of the Warmaster's sudden anger. He slowly lowered his hand and stepped back.

"You will fire on my signal only." Jha'dur said as clear as she could. "Any one who fires before then will answer to me in person, do I make myself clear?"

There was a chorus of affirmitive answers, fear of the Warmaster far outweighing fear of the few thousand natives in front of them. There was a rumour going around about the fate of her security chief from Tirrith, apparently he had failed and embarrassed her in some sort of raid which allowed some rebels to escape. Jha'dur had created a serum which did nothing but stimulate the pain sensors in the brain constantly giving the subject a sense of perpertual agony. The rumour said he was locked in a room somewhere still screaming while the Warmaster observed how long it took for him to die just from the sensation of pain alone.

With the troops now silent Jha'dur returned her attention to the warriors chanting in the distance, gentle snow falling across the flat valley floor between them giving it a perfect flat white blanket pure and unsullied. She moved away from the armoured vehicles and stepped out between the trenches moving in front of the Dilgar defence line.

"Warmaster!" Ba'sai spoke loudly with concern. "Forgive me, but you are putting yourself in danger, you must…"

She waved him silent without turning around. "Fire on my signal only." She repeated and kept walking, stopping twenty feet ahead of the line of trenches.

The chanting stopped, and quite suddenly the ridge fell into silence. Jha'dur stared intently at the force and tried to pick out activity to see what was happening. Out in front the single warrior raised high a flag, and as he did he chanted out another challenge, something almost haunting in its long drawn out sounds. Behind him the rest of the army joined in, raising up their lances and pennants in the white snow heavy sky, the light of the sun shining through the thin flags as they caught the breeze. With a final cheer horns sounded and the drums took up a slow beat, the whole ridge rippled and moved as the dark wave of soldiers passed down slowly across the white shaded hill and began a slow advance.

The rider in front raised his banner again and the drums quickened, at that signal the line began to advance quicker in exactly the same way human cavalry rode into battle. The warriors had only basic protection with no shields or armour but did not seem worried, they began to cheer and shout working up into a frenzy for the coming battle. It was both awesome and terrifying. Jha'dur watched intensely, forcing her mind to burn every second of this into memory for the future. Snow was hurled up into the air by the flat feet of the creatures the warriors rode, breath misting in gread clouds as they laboured forward gradually picking up speed. She recognized they had discipline, that they were advancing as one unit to maximise their impact and that their leader was keeping them from an all out charge until the last moment so the animals were no exhausted by their efforts. She drew her sword, the ceremonial weapon given to each Warmaster an pointed it at the leader of the native army, a gesture of respect and a challenge from the oldest days of Dilgar history. This man would die, but Jha'dur would see him die as well as he deserved.

The leader must have seen the challenge because he too made a gesture, extending his lance topped with the large flag of his city to his side before bringing it up above his head in a wide circle. Jha'dur smiled widely as she saw it, eminently pleased she had been spotted and recognized as leader of these alien warriors invading this planet. Once again she liked the idea of this leader falling in battle with the leader of the Dilgar military and one of its more celebrated leaders. She raised her sword high in the air pointing straight at the sky and behind her the Dilgar soldiers shuffled their weapons and took aim.

The leading rider yelled something at the top of his lungs and in answer the horns spoke again, followed by a great cheer from the following cavalry. They broke into a full charge no more than a few hundred yards away from Jha'dur, the foremost warrior and leading heading straight for her with thousands of frenzied riders following. The ground shook and the air reverberated with the thunder of the attack, screaming warriors released their animals and charged with all their speed in a living wall of beast and rider. The flags streamed out from the lance tips as they dropped down in unison, going from being held high to pointing their blades down at the entrenched Dilgar soldiers, and at their Warmaster.

Jha'dur remained detached, viewing the attack as a magnificent demonstration of history rather than an actual threat. She kept the sword held high for a moment longer as the charging riders came within a hundred yards before the soldier took the place of the scientist and began to calculate the best time to unleash her response. She locked eyes with the leader of the charge, the bravest of all these warriors trying to throw the invaders from his people's land. If he had been Dilgar she could easily have found him a fleet to command, this one act alone had shown him to have greater courage than half the council of Warmasters on Omelos.

Without a word and without looking away or flinching she swept her sword down, before it was halfway to the ground her entrenched soldiers opened fire with their energy pulse rifles launching hot blue bolts into the massed troops with devastating effects. Repeater weapons sent a near constant stream of fire into the charge while the armoured vehicles blasted great holes in the force with their main guns. Mortars rained down explosives, shells falling with the snow and airbursting in a pattern to send as much shrapnel into the attack as possible. The charge was stopped dead with rider and animal falling to the ground in a pile of flailing limbs, the following waves running into the stalled and dying first line and tripping over the dead or dying in confusion.

Jha'dur could feel the heat of the massed fire racing past on either side and above her, it was so much more of a primal feeling than what she experienced commanding a fleet in the cold of space. Her peoples fate turned on her victories in the void, and while this battle would be no more than a footnote in some journal about the death throes of aprimitive civilisation for Jha'dur it was as involving as any experience she had lived through, and a lot more personal. She could smell the blood and the burning air, hear the yelps and cries of the wounded and feel the shaking of the ground as hundreds of riders fell before her. She didn't have the words to describe it and was totally overpowered by the application of death in this manner. In her time she had seen more death than this, personally overseeing thousands of times more sentients sent into eternity but like this. She had killed hundreds, perhaps thousands with her own hands in the cold clinical rooms on Omelos and beyond, but again this was something different. As a human had said, one death is a tragedy, a million deaths is a statistic.

Between the rapid fire weapons and the overhead artillery strikes the native cavalry didn't stand a chance. They were closely packed and dozens fell with every mortar bomb that detonated or each sweep of the tripod mounted guns. Even in their great numbers it was no contest and after a few minutes of heavy fire the battlefield lay still and silent, just the same gentle falling snow falling down from above.

It was not completely silent, the faint groans of the wounded and snorts of injured beasts filled the air, the floor of the valley was a carpet of bodies laying dark and misshapen over the once pure white snow. Throughout the attack Jha'dur had not moved, her senses captivated by the new and unique experience. The soldiers left their trenches and began to advance, moving towards the piles of bodies looking fo the wounded. When they found an injured warrior or beast a sharp crack of weapons fire stilled the scene.

"Warmaster, are you hurt?" Commander Ba'sai came to her side.

"I am fine commander." She continued to survey the battle ground. "Your men did well, they obeyed my orders even in the face of a terrifying attack. Pass on my compliments."

"Yes Warmaster." Ba'sai nodded. "Thank you."

"I want ten of these warriors kept alive, I haven't studied this species yet." She continued. "Then I will have a ship call here and bomb from orbit every city of more than five thousand people as a warning against rebellion."

"Very good Warmaster." The Commander saluted and went about his duty, waving over his soldiers to finish the wounded and acquire samples. Jha'dur watched absently, her concerns dwelling on other matters. Len'char had started moving his pieces into place for a take over of the Dilgar government. It was a gradual and subtle process and naturally would never be traced back to him, but it was going to cause Jha'dur and her allies back home a gread deal of trouble and an unnecessary division of resources better used to win the war. She would have throttled the errant Warmaster with her own two hands if she thought she could get away with it, but unfortunately she needed a less direct approach.

Two of the soldiers dragged out a warrior from beneath a collapsed animal, he was alive but badly injured and clearly had a number of broken bones. As they laid him out Jha'dur recognized him as the leader who had so inspired the army to charge into the maelstrom. The soldiers quickly discussed what to do with him, one was intent on killing the warrior there and then while the other wanted to put himside for the Warmaster's experiments.

"Leave him." Jha'dur ordered quietly stepping up beside the prone leader. "Go find me another sample, not this one."

"At once Warmaster." The rookie soldiers saluted and scrambled away leaving Jha'dur and the leader alone. He lay on the white snow with flakes settling down on his chest. He was breathing erratically and must have been in great pain but did not cry out or gesture for anything. He stayed silent and looked straight up.

"Why did you do it?" Jha'dur asked. "You are no fool, if you raided the supply base you must have known we had superior technology. Why attack?"

At the sound of her voice the leader looked across at her, his eyes widened slightly in recognition remembering her as the well dressed alien who had stood up and accepted the challenge.

"Was it for power?" she continued. "For glory? Did leading this army guarantee you leadership of your people if you won?"

The warrior had no idea what she was saying but looked at her without a sense of fear or awe in his eyes. Even now he held onto his courage and met her gaze without flinching. It impressed the Warmaster far more than anything else she had seen on this world.

"No, that wasn't the reason was it." She asked rhetorically. "You came charging down that hill for another reason, not for personal gain but for the good of your people. You did it for honour, you attacked because it was the only thing you had left to do even if it meant certain death."

The Warriors hand stretched out on the ground, fingers reaching for an object half covered in one of his fallen comrades. Jha'dur looked around and saw it was a sword. She made no move to stop him and let him take the weapon, he was too weak to swing it and just pulled it close to his chest.

"I understand, you want to die with a sword in your hand like a true warrior." She walked closer so she was stood right next to him, he still looked up straight at her face. "You didn't expect to survive, you just wanted to die well in battle rather than live in slavery. You will never understand it, but I feel exactly the same way. I would rather die on my feet than exist as a slave to aliens, though at least my people have a better chance of victory. I pity you, I really do."

She examined her own sword, made from the strongest and lightest metals her people could conceive off it must have cost a small fortune. Compared to the Roth warriors swords it was an exquisite work of art, the natives used brutally primitive instruments of roughly forged iron and in some cases steel. They were worlds apart and yet were the same. In that same way Jha'dur felt a closer kinship with this dying native than she did with any of her own people save her closest circle of fellow officers and her brother. They were so different in form and skill, yet the fire which drove them from within was the same. Jha'dur believed the Dilgar were sole heirs to the galaxy and superior to all other races, but perhaps there were individuals out there on distant worlds who could make even the mightiest Dilgar take a moment to consider a different view on the universe.

"You will not suffer." She said. "You will not be paraded or experimented on, and you will not be carelessly shot by barely trained soldiers. You have earned more than that."

She raised her sword above his chest and pointed the blade down. The warrior closed his eyes for a moment and slowly nodded before opening them again and looking once more at the Warmaster in understanding.

"You die well, you die a warrior." She said. "And if there is some life after this you dwell with the best of those who have gone before. I pray that one day I have your courage." With a sharp effort she dropped the sword, piercing the warriors heart and ending his life, his fingers gripping his own sword to the last. Jha'dur stepped back as the blood ran free staining the white snow and melting into the ground beneath.

"This warrior will be buried with full honours!" Jha'dur shouted so all the soldiers could here. "You will treat him with respect as if he were one of our own, because in a way he was the perfect Dilgar."

The idea did not sit well with the Dilgar infantry, but the Warmasters will would be done.

"Bury him with my sword." She added. "He has earned that right."

With a final salute she turned her back on the massacre and headed for one of the armoured cars, signalling the driver to start up the engine. She respected and admired the warrior who had challenged Dilgar rule of this world, and while he was honoured the challenge could not be ignored. The world would burn under her orders, countless millions would die and the civilization this world was only just embracing would be wiped away like smoke in a breeze. She was a Warmaster and her duty was to crush the enemies of the imperium, no matter what she thought of them personally. She did not fight for honour or out of some sense of glory, she fought because to do anything else would condemn her world to death. As a scientist she respected balance, the equilibrium that kept the whole universe functioning. The universe had demanded death from the Dilgar, and if the Dilgar did not deliver souls by the billion it would take that blood toll from them directly.

The Warmasters had decided to feed that desire for blood with the bodies of the League in the hope the Dilgar would live on, to Jha'dur it was just simple balance, substituting billions of dead aliens for her own peoples continued life. Someone had to die, and she'd rather it was an alien than her. But while she considered most aliens no more than animals to be used or studied before total extermination there were individuals which made her pause and think. She was smart enough to consider all possibilities and not blindly subscribe to Dilgar superiority, she was very well aware that there groups out there who could cause great harm to her race and she had seen it with her own eyes both today and a month ago at Tirrith. Many Warmasters on the council believed the Dilgar were destined to win, which gave Jha'dur no end of amusement and confirmed that only she and Len'char were serious contenders for the Supreme Warmaster position when her Mentor stepped down, but Jha'dur had no real belief in destiny. Fate didn't give victory, fighting harder and smarter than your enemies did that.

She didn't fear technology, she didn't care about advanced alien races or brace but undisciplined warriors. The one thing Jha'dur feared, the only thing that really worried the feared Deathwalker was that one day the Dilgar would meet one of these races that fought hard and fought smart. As far as she was concerned courage won wars and she would much rather fight an advanced enemy than a smart enemy.

She climbed into the vehicle and ordered the driver to take her back to her shuttle, she had been angry when she arrived and if anything was even more troubled leaving. The Dilgar did not like to see such bravery and determination in their enemies, they did not like it when an enemy kept fighting even without hope of victory. Jha'dur knew it was because such courage went against what the Dilgar troops were told to expect from their opponents, and it tended to enrage her comrades and send them into battle in a frenzy which usually guaranteed victory but at too high of a price, she had seen it at Sshumssha and read of it a dozen times on the Drazi front. It was no way to fight a war.

If she had her way the Dilgar military would be trained to consider their enemies equal, not inferior, and to treat them with caution until their victory was assured. Feelings of superiority bred arrogance, and the universe had a habit of punishing the arrogant. Her fleet, and more recently her brothers forces were learning caution and learning to rely on their own training and not trust to the enemies inherent weakness which one day might not exist. But they were just two fleets out of twenty, if the universe did send some punishment their way the Dilgar would not be prepared.

She left Roth with a bitter taste in her mouth, an anger not directed at the planets population or the enemies of the Dilgar but at her own people themselves. If she ever said it out loud even her reputation would not save her, but she began to wonder if the Dilgar were not the perfect race they considered themselves. Perhaps they were just as flawed and just as weak in their way as every oher life form she had studied. Even the leaders thought this war was going easily their way, they had no idea how close they were constantly running to defeat and annihilation, all it would take would be one reversal, one noted defeat and the whole overstretched military would fold in on itself in less than a month.

More than anything else that was the true danger, overconfidence, and whatever else she did she had to correct that mistake or it would spell death for her race.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 33

Mars Colony, Earth Alliance.

The small fleet had attracted a lot of attention during its trek from the transfer point at Io all the way into Martian orbit gathering a tail of civilian ships and curious spectators. Paul Calendar didn't really blame them, he doubted many people had ever seen the after affects of a battle and the scarred and torn hulls of the Belt Alliance escort ships would be a fascinating sight and something they could share at after dinner conversations for months to come. It was an abstract thought to imagine wealthy ship owners casually discussing the damage to the fleet without ever fully understanding what trauma the crews had gone through in the process, and that some of the fleet had not returned home.

Captain Grozny kept a close watch on the small group of Earth Alliance warships shadowing them from a respectful distance, a pair of heavy cruisers which had followed the battered ships from Io all the way to the Belt Alliance ship yards and maintenance facilities orbiting above Mars Dome One. The Captain had already sent word of their condition and the yards were fully staffed and ready to receive the ships, the wounded crew had already been dropped off at Io.

"You'd almost get the feeling they didn't trust us." He said watching the Earth Force cruisers. "Like we needed an armed escort to Mars after all we've been through." He snorted sadly and looked down. "Like we would to shoot at anybody after all that."

Paul thought back to Brakir, they had come within minutes of destruction and it was a matter of incredible luck the planet was still holding out, though he didn't have hope they would last for much longer.

"Earth Alliance never really trusted us." Grozny said with dull anger and resentment, but it soon passed again into grief. "They just see us as little more than a nuisance, space truckers in grimy ships and working for greed."

"They didn't see us at Brakir." Paul stated. "That would have made them think twice."

It was no secret the main Earth Force military looked down on the Belt Alliance, although it had not always been so. Early on after first contact both groups had worked together to develop the infrastructure and technology needed to secure the Sol system from the suddenly emerging alien threat. New fighter and weapon designs had been developed but then a change in Earth Force priorities had set the two groups in different directions. This was epitomised by the Starfury program, something the Belt Alliance were refused access to at first. Earth ships grew larger and more powerful while the Belt alliance charter limited their protection fleets to tiny escorts, without the resources to match EA development they found themselves using old and cast off technology from Earth Force, most in the EA senate doubted the Belters would be around much longer and that the EA would have full authority over civilian shipping.

The Senators had not counted on the tenacity of the Belt Alliance. Denied new weapons and technology that had found ways to improve on their existing items. Denied Starfuries they had cobbled together their own copies, the Starfox fighter which was as good as the early models of the famous fighter. They had built their own bases, set up their own infrastructure and laid their own training programmes for ship crews. They were not Earth Force, but they were a quietly determined and stalwart group who knew when to take a stand.

"Belt Alliance Gunboat _Guardian_, you are clear for docking slip three." A light female voice spoke on the bridge speakers. "The Executives welcome you back and are thankful for your safe return. They offer their condolences for the losses and will prepare a full debriefing."

Grozny grunted. "They should never have sent us in the first place."

"Maybe." Paul agreed in part. "But we did good out there, we helped defend a planetful of innocent people. That has to count for something."

"I lost over a hundred people." Grozny replied flatly. "It might mean something to you but it means absolutely nothing to me."

In silence the ship moved into the dock, a structure of girders open front and back attached to a slowly spinning station through a central axis. The rest of the fleet set up elsewhere falling into their prearranged slips and coming to a relative stop allowing docking tubes to clamp onto the wounded ships and let the crews finally leave. Paul held onto a nearby hand hold as the retro thrusters activated and the ship jolted roughly coming to a stop, Earth ships weren't exactly known for their subtle controls and handling.

"Cut engines." Grozny ordered. There was a faint clump as docking ports latched ont the gunship and boarding tubes sealed over the airlocke in the outer hull. On the main display boards the lights went green showing it was no safe to leave the ship. "Wind down main power, switch over to batteries and open the airlocks." Grozny rattled off. "Home sweet home."

Paul exited with the rest of the crew propelling himself down the zero gravity docking tubes via the hand holds on either side. They were surprisingly quiet as they left the ship, most crews arriving at a base were extremely garrulous chatting constantly about the local night life, good bars or the more reputable casino's where they could win or lose an entire trips pay. But not today, today they were alone with their thoughts and memories. The spirit in them was quelled by the ordeal they had survived, it was as if they were not simply happy to be home, but relieved and eternally grateful.

They arrived in the stations central core and loaded themselves into elevators a half dozen at a time, Paul and Grozny sharing the same car. Again there was silence as the elevator headed outwards slowly towards the outer ring of the docking facility. The car had to travel slowly to give the crews a chance to adjust to gravity, from zero gravity at the centre of the station out to a standard 1g of simulated gravity caused by the centripedal force of the stations rotation. Paul kept his feet touching the floor and gradually became aware of the weight returning to his body, letting his leg muscles take the strain again and flexing his arms to get used to the feeling. He had spent most of his life on ships or stations and apart from a memorable journey on a Centauri liner he had gone through this adjustment to regular gravity after each journey, by now he was used to it.

The Elevator stopped and opened its doors onto the dull looking corridor which lead to customs. Everyone entering the station had to go through the centuries old tradition of being asked if they were carrying contraband, though Paul wondered why the guards bothered. If catching smugglers was as easy as asking 'Are you smuggling anything?' then he suspected the criminal empires of the galaxy would have fallen apart a long time ago. Still, pointless as it was he had to go through with it along with the rest of the crew.

"Go ahead." Grozny said sullenly. "I want to make sure all my crew go through first."

Paul nodded to the preoccupied Captain, he understood his sentiment of meeting the gaze of each member of his crew as they left the elevators. Paul took his identicard and headed up to the narrow station with two grey uniformed security guards waiting for him.

"Indenticard please." The guard on duty asked in flat monotone. "Anything to declare?"

Paul was immediately tempted to give a dozen made up answers highlighting how stupid the question was, but restrained himself. He'd seen enough drunk freighter crews pull a similar stunt and get thrown in jail for an evening until they learned a little respect. "Not a thing." He answered instead. "Didn't get much time to go shopping."

A message beeped up on the guards computer as he scanned the card, drawing a frown.

"Is there a problem?" Paul asked.

"No, no problem." The Guard answered. "If you could just step aside for a moment."

"Why?" Paul demanded. "I have to go and see how my crew are doing. If there is no problem give me my card back!"

"Just one moment please." The guard responded calmly. "This won't take long?"

"What won't take long?" He gave a hint of a snarl. "I am not in the mood for this buddy, if you had any idea what I have been through on this trip you would let me past here and stay out of my way!"

"Mr Calendar, I've already told you this won't take long." The guard repeated obtusely. "Your name was flagged for special attention, you are to be kept here until an escort arrives."

"An escort?" Paul snapped. "What the hell do I need an escort for?"

"Because no matter where you go and what you do," an amused female voice spoke up, "You always end up in the worst possible trouble."

"Jenny?" Paul looked around and spotted his former crew member turned secret agent. "What are you doing here?" he asked hesitantly.

"I came to see you, we heard about what happened at Brakir." She said with a hint of concern.

"Who's we?"

"I think you know." She said with a twinkle. "I've booked us a private room, I'd like to ask you a few things about what you saw there."

Paul shook his head. "I really need to see my people, Toby and Jors will have seen the ship dock and be expecting me."

"It won't take long." She insisted. "Please, this is important."

Paul sighed, he never had been able to say no to a girl with that sort of pleading expression. It was a serious weakness. "Fine, but lets make it quick."

She grinned. "Follow me."

He set off after Jenny, getting quite a few glances from his fellow Belt Alliance crew members no doubt envious of his company. If they knew the full story of their meeting he doubted they would be quite so eager to swap places.

Jenny led him along the dull corridors to a faceless door similar to a thousand others across the station and swiped her entry card through the electronic lock, it hissed and then slid open to reveal a plain room with a bed and a small desk flanked by two rather uncomfortable looking chairs. It was the basic sort of cabin available on space stations and while not particularly pleasant it at least had gravity and privacy.

"Pull up a chair." Jenny gestured. "You thirsty?"

"Very." Paul nodded as he settled at the table. "So are you on official business?"

"Bit of both." Jenny said as she filled two glasses with alcohol and brought them to the table. "y boss wants to know what the Dilgar were playing at hitting Brakir and the Hyach at the same time, but I also wanted to see how you were doing."

"Wait a minute," Paul raised his hand. "They hit the Hyach too?"

"Yeah." Jenny said. "Didn't you hear? Jha'dur took her fleet in and caught them napping, took out most of their fleet in an hour or so before they even got a chance to fight back."

"That isn't good." Paul took the offered drink as Jenny sat down. "The Hyach were the big guns in that sector, if anyone could slow the Dilgar down long enough for the League to band together it was them."

"With Hyach firepower and Brakiri fleet numbers we were expecting the Dilgar to stall and consilidate their holdings." Jenny said. "We expected them to attack but not so soon, and certainly not opening a two front attack against such major powers."

"But it sounds like the gamble paid off." Paul grimaced. "If the Hyach are crippled and the Brakiri are under siege, the Dilgar just knocked both of them out of the war on the same day."

"It is looking that way." Jenny admitted. "We were hoping for more time before we made a response to the current situation."

"What kind of response?"

"EarthGov is going to make a public statement on the Dilgar invasion, the President is going to oppose their aggressive expansion and express solidarity with our allies, the Mentab and the Markab."

"When you say 'Oppose' what does that mean?" Paul wondered. "Has the Senate actually grown a backbone?"

"Not in this lifetime." Jenny smiled, a very disarming expression. "He'll lodge a formal protest at the way the war is being handled and he'll tell the Dilgar to leave Earth's allies alone, he might threaten force if they come to close to us."

"He'll threaten them?" Paul sighed. "The Dilgar will just laugh in his face."

"Maybe." Jenny shrugged. "But that's as good as its going to get."

"You and I both know that's not enough!" Paul hit slammed his hand down shaking the table. "The Dilgar are the biggest threat we have ever faced, heaven knows how many people they have killed already! We need to stop them dead in their tracks and that means ships, not words!"

"The President can't send Earth ships to war without senate approval, and there is no way they will approve attacking a race which is fa from our borders and no threat to us."

"But they are a threat!"

"Yes they are." Jenny agreed. "But the senate and the people won't see it that way. As far as they are concerned it's a League problem, not ours. Earth is still new to galactic politics and we are unsure of where we want to go. There is a strong isolationist lobby back home which says we should have nothing to do with aliens."

"Maybe they'll shut up when the Dilgar start taking out our colonies?" Paul snapped.

"The thing we most need is hard evidence of Dilgar atrocities and their military power, then we can show them as a mojor threat." Jenny explained. "That's where you come in, I need to know what happened at Brakir, what the Dilgar did, their tactics, aggressiveness, numbers, what turned them back, what weaknesses they displayed. I need everything you saw and thought."

For the next hour Paul recounted the battle from his perspective listing the various Dilgar strikes and the Brakiri countermoves. Jenny was interested to learn of the effectiveness of the interceptor grid used on the Belt Alliance ships and examples of Dilgar fighter tactics. She carefully recorded the conversation adding a few notes and highlights to areas she found interesting and asking a few extra questions mostly centred on how well Brakiri armour seemed to hold up to concentrated attack. Paul ended the description with the arrival of the Balosian ships and the Dilgar retreating to the outer system edges.

"So they were still in the system?" Jenny asked.

"They were when we left." He clarified. "We guessed they were waiting for supplies and ready for another attack."

"From what the League says you were facing Sha'dur, Deathwalker's brother."

"So I heard." Paul confirmed. "But I never got a look at his ship."

"Really?" Jenny noted that. "He usually leads from the front, if he was directing the battle from the rear this could be an unfortunate development. It's the smart thing to do and one smart Warmaster is more than enough for us to worry about."

"He must be following big sister's example." Paul grunted. "So what do you think they'll do?"

"With Brakir and the Hyach out of the way?" Jenny pondered. "They'll attack and soon, within a month or two."

"Straight down through the League?"

"I expect so." Jenny nodded. "They still have some problems to deal with, there are the Vree to contend with who have proven to be quite deadly and then the Yolu. We don't know a whole lot about them, just that they are old and don't appreciate visitors."

"I've travelled the League most of my life." Paul stated. "And I can tell you there is nothing they have which can match the Dilgar. Unless we do something a dozen civilisations are going to burn."

"It isn't our choice." Jenny sighed. "It rests with the politicians."

"Then we're all dead!" Paul spat.

They sat in silence for a while examining their drinks before Jenny reached up and stopped her recording device.

"I think that covers it." She said.

"You agree with me don't you?" Paul asked her.

"Yes I do." She answered sincerely. "We've seen the same things, I know exactly what will happen if the Dilgar go unchecked and it doesn't end pretty."

"You're in the government, maybe you can do something? Pull some strings?"

Jenny smiled genuinely. "I'm just an employee, I don't run the show. But don't worry, there are people right at the top who see things the way we do and are preparing."

"What people?" Paul perked up. "Your boss at the EIA?"

"I can't tell you that." she said firmly. "But just remember that some people are paid to protect the EA from exactly the sort of threat the Dilgar pose, they have dedicated their lives to it and will not let Earth become vulnerable to attack." She smiled again instantly warming the room. "You remember years ago how much trouble we went through with the senate to get funding for new ships? That the politicians didn't think we needed to update and expand our fleet?"

"I remember reading something in the papers." Paul nodded.

"They were adamant Earth should invest its money elsewhere, and yet by the end of the year we had _Hyperions_ and even better _Novas_ coming out of shipyards across the colonies. There are ways around this Paul, influence at the highest levels which can get things done." She emptied her glass. "Keep an eye on the news, things like new ship yards being built and new fighters entering service. The senate believes we are building new ships to retire the older ones, but we're actually keeping the full fleet active and aim for a thousand heavy ships in service by the end of the year. That should make even the Dilgar think twice."

"I hope you are right." Paul said. "I really do."

"Just have a little faith." She smiled. "If trouble comes knocking on our door we'll give it a warm reception."

She stood and put away the recorder. "So the rest of the boys are on the station?" she asked.

"Yeah, Jors and Toby are around here somewhere."

"So why don't we go find them." She grinned. "They can buy me a drink."

"Are you kidding?" Paul chuckled. "I've never seen Jors buy anyone a drink!"

They shared a laugh and headed for the door.

"You know I miss this." Paul said. "Just hanging out and laughing."

Jenny dropped her eyes. "You know what I do for a living, what I do for Earth."

"I know, I'm just saying." Paul shrugged. "Maybe one day after all this is done you won't need to worry about all of that and we can just go back to the way things were?"

"Maybe." She nodded. "I think I'd like that someday."

He smiled at the answer. "Come on then, lets go find the guys. We should start with the cheapest bar on the station and work our way up."

The entered the corridor smiling and laughing, a reminder of the good old days before the war and their responsibilities changed them. Perhaps it was denial, but Paul didn't care. He'd earned a little joy.

EIA Headquarters

Geneva, Earth.

"Just in time." Harry Leung tapped his watch as Francis burst through the door into the small briefing room. The other half dozen members of the digital intelligence department were already seated around a medium sized oblong table with recorders ready to take notes. As department head Leung was stood by the door waiting for his final team member to arrive.

"Sorry, I got lost on the way over." Francis admitted with embarrassment, his face a fetching shade of crimson. "Still getting used to this place."

"Take a seat." Leung nodded with some sympathy. "Took me two months to figure my way around this place."

He sat down with a huff and took off his thick winter jacket, it was well heated indoors but outside was feeling particularly bitter today. His apartment in the residential district of the EarthGov complex was quite a journey from his place of work but Francis didn't have a car or even a driving license and while the complex was well stocked in many ways one thing it didn't have was a taxi service. On his brisk run to work he had settled on buying a bicycle first chance he got.

At exactly eleven the door opened and Agent Chapel walked in, slightly surprising Francis. Chapel was Jenny's department head and while he didn't know exactly what the burly man did it was probably a lot more exciting than computer work. He had guessed Leung would handle the briefing but instead the Korean agent sat down and yielded the floor to Chapel.

"Good morning Ladies and gentlemen." He announced with a little dramatic flair. "Glad you all could make it, settling in okat Frankie?"

"Yeah, sure." Francis answered. "Say, is there anywhere round here I can get a bike?"

"I think so." Chapel shrugged. "Maybe Harry here can help you afterwards. Anyway, lets make a start shall we?"

Chapel activated the large video screen at the top of the room drawing everyone's attention. It showed an ordinary looking man at an airport captured on security footage. To Francis it looked completely normal and not in the least suspicious, if there was something wrong he guessed he'd need much more training to spot it.

"Meet Walter Krant." Chapel announced. "Now Mr Krant is something of an anomaly sent to us by the LAPD, they're stumped by him and thought we might be able to help." He pressed a button on the sde of the screen and changed the image showing more footage from the same security camera.

"Mr Krant is thirty Eight years old born in Modesto California, he lives on the edge of Los Angeles and works as a district manager for an electronics firm, they make parts for holographic projectors. Nothing fancy."

Francis concentrated on the images, to him the man seemed completely normal, average height, slightly bald, dressed casually, he could be any one of a billion people going about his daily business.

"Mr Krant arrived at LAX inter planetary space port at eight eighteen Monday morning and boarded the nine o'clock HALO flight to New York, arriving thirty minutes later." Chapel changed the image to show the same man crossing the customs gate at New York's Dulles space port. Like most of the old airports Dulles and LAX had been modernised half a century ago to handle orbital shuttles and space plane landings. Francis watched the man present his Identicard and pass through as normal walking out across the lobby.

"He leaves the airport at nine thirty seven and gets into city cab 22819 and tells the driver to head to Tmes square where he leaves a generous tip of sixty credits and heads off into the crowds."

"Sixty credits?" Harry Leung whistled. "Big spender."

"And yet his job doesn't pay all that well." One of Francis' colleagues noticed. "Odd behaviour."

"Oh it gets better." Chapel continued. "We have footage from department stores showing Mr Krant walking past their windows at eleven minutes past twelve the same day and then nothing."

"Nothing?" Francis wondered.

"Like the guy just disappeared." Chapel continued. "No trace on camera's, no use of his credit card or record of any EarthCom transmissions, no hotel reservations in his name, no eyewitnesses, noting. He just disappears."

"Okay, that is pretty weird." Harry admitted. "But why is it our problem, shouldn't the NYPD or the FBI be dealing with this, it's an internal North American issue."

"With one last twist in the tail." Chapel relished this moment as he divulged the last revelation. "Mr Krant's neighbour, a Ms Horowitz, reported to police that Mr Krant's vid player was on too loud. The LAPD eventually sent an officer around to check it out finding no answer at the door, after demanding entry he uses his police access to override the lock and gets himself in. there he finds Mr Walter Krant, dead."

"Dead?" Francis gasped.

"Dead," Chapel repeated. "Single knife wound to the chest piercing his lungs and heart. He'd have been dead before he hit the ground."

"So it's murder." Harry nodded. "At least we know where he disappeared to, which flight did he catch back from New York?"

"And here is the twist." Chapel grinned. "As you remember Mr Krant caught the Nine o'clock flight to New York Monday morning, right?" there were nods of agreement. "Well LAPD found the body Sunday evening."

"Impossible." Harry snorted. "He can't catch a flight if he's dead!"

"Exactly." Chapel clapped his hands together. "But the evidence shows Mr Krant getting on and off that jet, even after he was dead, murdered in fact."

"Does he have a twin?" one of the agents asked.

"No, just a sister in San Francisco. No other relatives." Chapel said.

"Someone wearing a mask?" Harry frowned.

"He managed to fool the airport scanners on the way in." Chapel replied. "If he'd been in disguise they should have picked it up, unless he had undergone radical plastic surgery. This is where we come in."

Francis had grown extremely interested in the story, it was an incredible mystery and it looked like they were going to play a part in solving it.

"The police departments have given us all the airport footage of this guy, they have their own digital units but it's a fact that the EIA has the best technology and hopefully the best people in the business."

"Something we're proud of." Harry smiled at his department.

"The Director has approved taking you guys off your current duties and putting you on this. He wants an analysis of the guy's face using computer mapping and reconstruction to see if he has had surgery, or to see if the security footage was somehow altered."

"It'd be too hard to alter all this footage." Francis shook his head. "It'd be more likely the guy was resuurected from the dead."

There were some chuckles. "That may be." Chapel smiled. "But let's get some proof."

"What about decrypting the Dilgar comms intercepts?" Francis raised the point. "This is a fine mystery, but wouldn't the codes be more important?"

"The director has given us this job, he probably has a real good reason." Chapel answered. "So let's get this done fast and go back to our day jobs. Any other questions?"

There were none.

"Alright then, lets see if this guy is Lazarus or just a real good impersonator."

The team left the room and headed back towards their offices and workstations. He hung back from the rest and waited for Agent Chapel to leave.

"Excuse me," he spoke up. "I haven't seen Jenny, I mean Agent Sakai, for a few days, is she okay?"

"She's fine." Chapel nodded. "She just had a job to do off world, she should be back by the end of the week."

"Nothing dangerous was it?" Francis did a poor job of hiding his concern.

"No, just chatting to a guy on Mars with some information." Chapel smiled in amusement. "You don't need to worry about her, she can really take care of herself. I mean really."

"Alright then." Francis relaxed. I better go find out what the story is with that Krant guy."

"Yeah, that would kind of be your job." Chapel grinned widely. "Go on, get outta here, find something good to show the director."

Francis nodded and shuffled away towards his room mind now safely focused on his job and not worrying about his new friend Jenny. Chapel watched him go, he didn't need to be psychic to know the young operative had feelings for the admittedly attractive agent who had recruited him but where that would lead was another question. Relationships between fellow agents rarely ended well, he knew that from experience.

Chapel noticed he was thumbing the ring on his left hand and forced himself to stop and go find something productive to do, with all that was going on there had to be something until the results of this latest assignment started filtering through. He decided to go check the League diplomatic information network and see if there was anything else on the Dilgar, they seemed to be the hot topic of debate just about everywhere and while a lot of the information was inflated or outright invented, sometimes there was a nugget of solid facts which would help him get a better sense for the warlike race. At the least it would keep him busy and keep his mind away from the past.

New York City.

He had to grudgingly admit this was a wonderous place. Dar'ro had visited a number of planets in his time as a Spectre, he'd set foot on the Drazi capital with its narrow streets and thick walled low buildings, he'd been to the Narn homeworld with its similar fortified buildings and to Centauri Prime with its ancient and majestic buildings. He'd seen the Brakiri cities rising from the sand and Abbai cities erupting from the seas, and of course he had seen the glistening pointed buildings of his home on Omelos. None of it came close to the sight he had seen upon landing.

The humans called these buildings skyscrapers and he knew exactly why, they were absolutely gigantic, vast towers of glass and bright metal rising from the ground up to incredible heights, it was something unknown on a dozen worlds and while other races did appreciate the value of towers as space savers they hadn't dreamed of taking them to the extremes the Humans had. The smallest of buildings dwarfed anything he had seen before rising hundreds of metres into the sky, but there was a cluster of towers so vast he had to check twice to make sure they were real, a score of buildings reaching beyond a mile high shaped like tubes or ovals with wide bases and tapering bodies up to a far distant point far from the ground. Even through his disguise it was obvious he was impressed, a passing human had remarked to him 'If you like those you should see Tokyo.' Which Dar'ro assumed must have even more of these skyscrapers.

But the greatest sight was a building seemingly stood alone, though it only looked that way because its neighbours were less than a fifth it's size. From a tourist leaflet he picked up at the airport the building was called the 10k tower, so named because it reached ten thousand feet skyward, the tallest building on Earth and for that matter anywhere else, a source of immense pride for the city and it's builders. The leaflet explained briefly that centuries ago the nation states of Earth had been competing with each other to build the tallest building, every few years somebody built a new tower which eclipsed the previous ones until an event named World War III stopped all that by causing a massive economic crash world wide after a major war in Asia. For a long time Earth was busy recovering and had no time for such extravagant buildings until the Centauri came, and after the first nerves wore off and the humans expanded into the galaxy the race sparked up anew using exotic alloys developed for space travel. The 10k tower was built by the same people who were designing the new generation of Explorer ships for the military and they were allegedly even bigger than the tower itself.

Dar'ro had decided to stay away from those areas though, the 10k tower was build in Manhattan on the site of the former UN building, although the area around was preserved as a site of planetary heritage, ancient buildings like the Empire State, Chrysler building and the Freedom towers still stood in the shadow of their massive descendant and its slightly smaller siblings further away from the old town. However, despite the gleaming suburbs and towers there were still parts of New York which were run down and poverty stricken. For years, centuries even, successive governments had tried to eliminate poverty but in every country there were still slums and ghettos where the downtrodden or just plain unlucky gathered. People tried to block out these areas and ignored them pretending they didn't exist. They were the perfect sort of places where people went to in order to disappear.

Dar'ro stepped into a dirty building with nobody even caring about his presence. He wore the disguise of a poorly dressed and unshaven human male in his forties who would attract no adverse attention in this setting. He grunted at the buildings land lord and headed up the stairs to the dismal room he had been given through his contacts, all provided by the Warmaster Jha'dur. The door used an old fashioned metal key to unlock it and with a squeal the door swung open allowing Dar'ro in. he quickly gave the room a quick visual scan for danger and then shut the door behind him and locked it. Safely out of sight he took out an electronic scanner and searched for bugs before finally satisfying himself that he was alone and in private.

He deactivated his Chaemelion net and pulled off the hood, immediately feeling light headed. The net was an ingenious piece of technology but not without its side effects, the power source needed to run it was unusually large and the pack had insufficient shielding making radiation poisoning a real issue with prolonged use. Still, if he achieved his mission it would be a small price to pay. The room was small and overall brown in appearance with dirty walls and lank curtains covering the windows. The video monitor looked at least thirty years old and the various fixtures and fittings in the kitchen and bathroom were pitted with rust and grime. There was however one thing whice stood out, on the main table was a top of the range computer gleaming silver and black connected to a host of systems and hardware, the whole set up likely cost more than the building it was housed in.

The computer had not been provided by the land lord, indeed he had no idea it even existed. Who put it there exactly was a mystery to Dar'ro too, he had just been given directions to this room and told all he needed would be waiting for him, Jha'dur had not gone into details. It would seem that somehow the young Warmaster had made arrangements for the Spectre to have a little support on the human homeworld, probably through bribing aliens or disreputable humans to handle a few jobs no questions asked. None of them probably knew Jha'dur was behind the job, they just took the money had didn't give a second thought to its origin. People like that made Dar'ro's life so much easier.

The computer itself was a human model but of greater interest were two brief case sized boxes the machine was wired up to. These were apparently encryption and anti trace devices designed to keep his computers location a top secret even if his presence on Earth was suspected. He had taken precautions against that but knew better than to underestimate a potential foe. To contact the Warmaster with his findings he would post a coded message on the Earth Alliance Galaxy net, a type of civilian data link between computers descended from something called the internet. This message would then be accessed by his Warmaster and deciphered, any new instructions would reach him in the same manner.

In theory it was completelt untraceable, but to be sure Dar'ro was preparing to set a series of booby traps and warnings around his room to give him the edge in case security forces did somehow find him. He trusted technology, but he trusted in himself much more. He hadn't brought any energy weapons with him for fear their power packs would not be masked by the Chaemelion net which hard difficulty enough hiding its own power signal ans so instead relied on a series of knives and blades secured about his person. Dar'ro had long ago mastered knife fighting in some of the brutal gutters of Omelos and was supremely confident in his speed and skill with his chosen weapon. Human biology was similar enough to the Dilgar to mean what killed one invariably killed the other and knives were no exception.

He activated the computer and its encoding systems and prepared to send his first message informing Jha'dur he was safely on planet and ready to begin his assigned mission, the recovery of the data from the _EAS Persephone_. By now he fully expected it had been copied and sent to the Human military and intelligence commands, stopping it from circulating was impossible and the humans would know the truth. However there was still a vast amount of data in those recorders which Jha'dur desperately wanted, data on Earth ships and capabilities along with classified information about bases and military supply posts. Getting that data from the wrecked ships files would be much easier than trying to hack into the central Earth force information net or sneaking into a military base on Earth itself.

The problem was going to be finding out where the original data recorder was based. Logically it had to be on Earth at an important facility, maybe Naval command, maybe Intelligence command, maybe a deep underground facility. The first step in securing it was finding it. By this time the data ports which the Dilgar had been unable to open up and decode should be free to access, the humans not expecting a Dilgar agent all the way out here on Earth, so actually gathering the data should be simple. His biggest problem was going to be getting out with the information, and for that he was going to have to rely heavily on his suit and hope Earth didn't have the sophistication to scan through the Chaemelion field.

The system logged onto the galaxy net through its secure encryption and Dar'ro began to type.

Dilgar battlefleet

Former Hyach colony at Yonog

As was custom Captain An'jash greeted her Warmaster at the shuttle bay, an escort of two armed guards snapping to attention as the airlock cycled through. "Welcome back Warmaster." She clutched her chest in her own salute.

"Thank you Captain." Jha'dur beamed. "Did the Roth garrison send my samples along?"

"Yes Warmaster, we have ten natives and two former Dilgar officers contained in the onboard labs awaiting your attention."

Jha'dur paused to remove her black leather gloves made from the finest of materials. Exactly where the leather had come from didn't matter but knowing the tastes of the Warmasters she wouldn't be surprised if had once been attached to an Abbai or Brakiri war prisoner. A smile flickered across her features at the concept, but she had other issues to consider. "Where is the Hyach navy?"

"Gathered at their homeworld." An'jash replied efficiently. "Their colony at Sha-bal is in the process of being evacuated, there is a moderately strong military presence there. Same goes for their colony at Ivala."

"They are in full retreat." Jha'dur savoured the news. "But we must be prepared in case the consilidate their position and attack." She jolted forward at a brisk walk and began heading for her quarters deep in the dreadnought, her aide falling into pace beside her. "Hyach ships are lethal if they are allowed to dictate the battle, we must always be ready to make the first move."

"Understood Warmaster."

"The supply situation should be restored in a day or so, when we have refuelled we will make a quick journey to their homeworld itself and test the Hyach resolve."

They stepped into a lift and Jha'dur jabbed the floor she needed. Beside her Anjash raised some concerns.

"Warmaster, we will not have the element of surprise, the Hyach will be waiting for us this time."

"I sincerely hope so." Jha'dur smiled and rolled her head back. "Hiding behind their defences, their population huddled together in terror of our approach, this is exactly the effect I have been aiming for. The fear of our reputation is almost as important as the skills which earned us notoriety in the first place."

"Break their spirit and the battle is won." An'jash remarked.

"Something like that." Jha'dur commented. "They will defend their homes with the ferocity of wild animals, the League can't fight most of the time but pin them to the wall and instinct takes over. The Hyach will fight well but will not try and counter attack, not if we keep them cowed and fearful."

The lift stopped and Jha'dur resumed her pace. "We must terrorize the Hyach, just as we do the other races until we end this war and can pick off the besieged worlds one at a time."

"Also Warmaster I have sent more scouts out into League space." An'jash informed her leader. "with the edges of Hyach and Brakiri space open we have access to the heart of the League."

"Good, there are a number of worlds which look promising as a future home for our people." The Warmaster nodded. "Once we cleanse their existing populations of course."

"Of course Warmaster." An'jash drew to a halt beside Jha'dur's quarters. "Are tere any further orders?"

"Just one." The Warmaster smiled thinly. "Send a squadron to each Hyach colony. When the refugee ships enter hyperspace attack them, try to disable engines if possible and let hyperspace take them."

"As you wish Warmaster."

"And remember not to jam their channels." Jha'dur added. "I want their friends and relatives on the homeworld to hear their cries for help. Terror Captain, terror."

Jha'dur opened the door to her room, answered her aides salute and as the door swished shut she collapsed with a long sigh into a lush armchair. She took the gloves from her pocket and threw them at a table and loosened her heavy uniform jacket. Whatever her subordinates believed she was far from bright and happy, and it wasn't the aliens who were attacking her composure but her own people. It was hard enough fighting a war out here, let aone fighting one at home too.

"Computer, display messages received today." She spoke out loud. "Authorisation Dark one, six two nine."

The screen blinked on. "Single message." It reported.

"Who from?"

"Identity concealed." The computer replied. "Source unknown, message subject listed as 'arrival' no further information."

Jha'dur sat up in her chair. "Display message." She ordered. "Run standard decryption routines."

"Message is text only, it reads 'have arrived safely, beginning mission.' That is all."

"Delete message and all records."

"Completed." Announced the computer.

That was hopeful news, her agent on Earth had begun to set his plans in motion. Through elements of the Narn government she had been put in touch with certain humans who were willing to betray their planet for money, a concept rather alien to her but apparently understood and encouraged by the Narn. As far as they were concerned these turncoats were aiding the Narn Regime, which seemed more palatable than the Dilgar and less likely to raise moral questions from their long ignored consciences. Their payment was funnelled through a number of Narn and even Centauri financial institutions to dilute the trail as much as possible and hide Omelos as the source of the funds, it was a logical safeguard but also served a second purpose for Jha'dur. While hiding it from the Humans was important, hiding it from her own peers was equally vital.

This entire operation to put an agent on Earth was known to just three Warmasters, herself, her brother and the Supreme Warmaster with nobody else in the council knowing of the operation, even the head of Military intelligence himself. If Len'char knew of the mission and knew it was one of Jha'dur's personal projects he might be very motivated to sabotage it in the interest of gaining political points just like it seemed he had tried with the supply situation, and the Imperium could not afford to have this mission and its results lost to selfish ambition.

One of these days Len'char was going to make a big mistake, and the second that happened Jha'dur would be waiting for him, knife clutched behind her back. Political infighting was nothing new, it had become an accepted part of Dilgar politics that grabs for power usually ended in blood, that was after all the preferred way of solving large issues on Omelos and had been for centuries. The real problem came when this happened now in the middle of the Dilgar race's darkest hour. The Supreme Warmaster had called for unity in the face of disaster from the War council, the people themselves did not yet know about the impending catastrophy set to befall Omelos but the higher levels of government did. They had to work together to save their people and only then could the normal cycle of assassination and power grabbing return.

Gar'shan had tried to reason with them, appeal to their sense of patriotism and survival, even going as far as threatening the council with execution if they did not follow him unquestioningly but he was not the man he had been a few years ago. His health was failing and while his mind remained sharp he was becoming physically incapable of applying his knowledge. He had taken responsibility for saving his whole race and the sheer scope of that task was burning him out. Jha'dur had asked to help, virtually begged to take some responsibility, but Gar'shan was a proud leader and had refused to share the burden. It was not pride or a desire to reap all the glory for single handedly leading the Dilgar as Len'char and his cronies believed, it all stemmed from his old fashioned sense of duty and leadership.

It was going to get him killed. If Len'char took over it was probably going to get them all killed.

Jha'dur had sworn to serve her people and lead them to continued dominance of the stars, she realised this would mean killing a very large number of people and she accepted that. What she was now beginning to realise was that a number of those people were not going to be aliens but rival Dilgar who threatened their united front. She didn't give two thoughts to most alien races, once in a while they did something surprising which made her wonder if honour and courage were solely Dilgar traits, but ultimately she considered them vermin to be removed or slaves to be exploited. At best they were tools to assist her research into the formulas of death, and hopefully one day the secret of life. At one time the thought of killing Dilgar would have shocked her, even now it was uncomfortable but when she stopped and considered the last few years she had already ordered the deaths of almost a hundred of her own people who had failed and risked the outcome of the war.

Jha'dur killed for a reason, she never killed purely out of anger and each and every life taken served a purpose. Her officers did not die if they made genuine mistakes, it was a fact of war that circumstances are beyond anybodies control and a good Warmaster needed to adapt in a second, many cold not do that but were still fine officers. However if the mistake was due to negligence or dereliction of duty, if it was a simple situation which had spiralled out of control, that was different and the officer who had failed would be made an example of. It was a thankfully rare occurrence in her fleet, her forces were highly motivated and she had taken a great deal of time to train them up to her standards, she believed nurturing talent and confidence was better than scaring them into following orders. The Roth Garrison was a case in point, many leaders would have wiped out the entire force but Jha'dur knew that removing those in positions of responsibility would be enough to erase the problem and serve to encourage their replacements to work harder. Her methods of execution were likewise designed as the ultimate deterrent, nobody in their right mind wanted Jha'dur as an enemy.

Which made Len'char's actions that much more confusing. When she had first met him he was a loyal Dilgar officer and competent intelligence agent. As a favoured aide to Gar'shan he had risen through the ranks and seemed to be a close ally of Jha'dur and the Supreme Warmaster, but then not long before the war began he had suddenly grown distant and gave in to ambition. He took risks to further his own agenda and at the battle of Tithalis in the early days of the war those risks had cost many soldiers and crew their lives.

Now he was so caught up in himself it didn't seem like he realised how much damage he was doing. Jha'dur had once considered him a friend, but now he was an obstacle to the survival of her species and that had to be addressed. While she was out here fighting Len'char was unchecked and she half expected the frantic pace of the war and the fact her fleets had been heavily engaged without a real rest since the war began was in no small part designed to keep her away from Omelos and away from the power games going on there. Very soon she would work her way home and come to the aide of her mentor Gar'shan. The Supreme Warmaster had sheltered her, gave her a new purpose in life and all the help she needed to achieve her ultimate dream. She owed him everything, beside her brother Gar'shan was the only family she had, the Supreme Warmaster's son and daughter were like siblings and the old leader himself a true father figure, one which was now under threat.

She gritted her teeth in resolve. She had once called Len'char a friend, but if the opportunity arose she would kill him in a heartbeat without a shred of remorse. But before that happened the war was growing, and battle was calling to her. With the fleets about to resupply the second wave of attacks could begin against the Brakiri and Hyach finally removing the threat to the Imperium's flanks. With them gone the acquisition of a new homeworld could begin in earnest and by her hand, not Len'char's, the Dilgar race would live.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 34

Mars

Earth Alliance space.

"This is all your doing ain't it Bugs?" Alfredo Garibaldi, newly promoted Sergeant of Red Platoon, Alpha company of the 99th Air Mobile infantry Regiment shot an accusing glance at one of his young charges. "Only you could've come up with that."

He sighed and tried not to laugh in the barracks hut his platoon had been busy renovating during their last few days worth or rest and recovery. The veterans of the Tirrith escape had been debriefed a solid dozen times each by their own officers, military intelligence, Earth Alliances regular intelligence agaencies and Garibaldi himself as senior survivor had spoken to General Dayan, the four star officer with overall command of Alliance ground forces making him something of a regimental celebrity. Naturally they were under strict orders not to discuss their experiences outside the Rommel complex here in the dome but within its confines the men and women of Red platoon were accorded the sort of respect and wary admiration reserved for Army Rangers or the shadowy SAS units. Although that might change after today.

"It's our new platoon crest." Bugs said proudly staring with Garibaldi and twenty grinning troopers at the back wall of the long building. "It's kind of symbolic."

"It's meant to be me isn't it?" Garibaldi scowled.

"No, no of course not!" Bugs defended. "Well, maybe a little."

"I kind of see it as the dichotomy of humankind." Private 'Bulldog' Tucker mused. "At one time bright and jolly yet at the same ruthless and full of great rage."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Private 'Large' Turnbow boomed. "It's a cartoon duck with a crowbar!"

"A duck with Sergeant's stripes." Gaibaldi glared. "That is me isn't it? You made me Daffy duck!"

For the last day while Garibaldi was away talking to secret service agents in yet another round of briefings Private 'Bugs' Malone had been busy painting a giant murel of Daffy duck on the inside back wall of Red Platoons barrack. The black duck was charging forward yelling in cartoon rage whilst wearing a green helmet with three gold stripes on the front and a bondolier loaded down with grenades. Best of all were its weapons, a PPG rifle in its left hand and a crowbar in its right.

"So can we keep it?" Bugs prompted with a grin.

Garibaldi finally broke down and started laughing. "Sure, why the hell not. Livens the place up!"

There were a few cheers of amused victory and Tucker gave Garibaldi a slap on the back. "Good to have you back Freddy."

"Good to be back." Garibaldi smiled. "Real good to be back."

Life as a Sergeant had started out similar to his time as a Private First class but that had soon changed. He found himself spending a lot of time organising duty rosters for his platoon and after a month since his promotion he had barely had time to hang out with his old friends. He had expected these new responsibilities but it was going to take a while to adjust fully, he was confident enough in his ability to get people to follow him, he just needed to have confidence that he could do the myriad of lesser but still important tasks his new job demanded. Beside the rounds of debriefings all his time so far had been tied up in paperwork and getting to know his fellow NCO's.

His first day on base had been memorable. Before he even made it into the Sergeants mess he had been assaulted by his new peers, carried off by four NCO's who really should have known better and dropped head first into a pool of drained engine oil from the motor pools transports. It was actually a lot tamer than his hazing when he passed out of boot, but he had expected a bunch of Sergeants to be just a little bit more grown up. He couldn't help but laugh, and on the other hand he had a weeks grace at the mess which meant he didn't need to pay for his drinks which more than made up for a moments discomfort.

The first job he had was to make sure the quartermaster loaded up red platoon with all it needed for a planned exercise out on the Martian plains, the traditional way Colonel Longstreet liked to break his troops back in after the Christmas period and the generally lenient time the soldiers were permitted with nothing more than basic garrison duties. There was also the fact the Regiment had been busy guarding starships relieving the overstretched Earth Force Marine corps for its own exercises, and now that the jarheads were back the 99th needed to feel solid ground beneath its feet and get back to been an air mobile infantry unit.

The quartermaster had been highly reasonable, perhaps thanks to Garibaldi's fast developing reputation, and the requisition was easy. Earth had been very busy trying to terraform mars for well over a century and was experiencing slow but steady progress, recently helped by the purchase of some Centauri technology. Mars was still inimicable to most life though certain algae was establishing a foot hold and the atmosphere was getting noticeably thicker, sometimes there were even rivers and streams crossing the Martian plains in summer.

All this meant the soldiers of the 99th didn't need the full wrap environmental suits that units on Io and other harsh worlds needed but could get away with breather units and a more flexible harsh weather uniform similar to those issued to arctic survey teams. Naturally all the weapons and electronics were rated for use in the difficult environment and the gunships and armoured vehicles they would be working with could run through just about anything from vacuum to the edge of nuclear explosions.

Garibaldi had however found two major items missing from his company, namely a pair of junior officers to bridge the gap from Garibaldi to Captain Franklin. While in some ways he and most of his platoon believed they could operate just as well without a brace of Lieutenants as they could with, the batallion commander had been fairly insistent and pulled some strings to get what he considered credible officers.

"Sergeant Garibaldi." Came the calm but commanding voice of the Company commander.

"Sir." Garibaldi turned his back on the barracks and snapped a salute, while technically indoors the dome was large enough to count as outside for regulations. The members of the platoon nearby also came to attention.

"Stand easy Sergeant," Captain Franklin returned the salute. "At ease platoon."

The men and women of Red platoon assumed a relaxed stance, but still remained silent and formal. Franklin stepped up and peered into the barracks, seeing the murel. ""retty good likeness." He allowed. "You guys did this on your own time I hope?"

"Sir, yes sir." Private Malone answered. "And our own paint sir."

"Very good." Franklin let a grin slip through. "I like it, shows the fighting spirit of this unit."

Malone smiled and stood a little straighter in pride. "Thank you sir."

"Regulations on artworks are strict, but I'm going to approve this, nice work ladies and gentlemen." Franklin stepped back. "Sergeant, follow me if you would."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi stepped forward and stood beside Franklin.

"There's an inspection at fourteen hundred, be ready for it." The Captain said. "That is, dismissed."

He answered the salute, then set off with Garibaldi matching his stride. "Did you know about that Sergeant?"

"No sir, first time I saw it too."

"You're building up a bit of a reputation." Franklin added with a hint of amusement. "Even the commander of Mars forces has heard your nick name."

Garibaldi expected he was turning crimson. "It is not my intention to be famous sir."

"You mean infamous?" Franklin chuckled. "I know Sergeant, but you should be ready for everyone to know you."

Garibaldi didn't have an answer for that, he could see himself getting really grumpy about it in the future. He got cranky very easily. "Any word on supplies sir?"

"If by that you mean the Lieutenants, then yes Sergeant." Franklin tried not to laugh at Garibaldi's description, junior officers usually got a lot of flak from both sides of the rank divide, but it was an essential part of the learning process and turned unsure young men and women into confident and determined leaders. Franklin himself had been there and understood the crucible that command became. "We're going to meet them now."

They walked across the parade ground which was quiet at the moment, a couple of two man teams were skirting around the edges picking up litter from the small squares of imported grass around the Colonel's small office and quarters and doing the cleaning and tidying which had been endemic in armies for millenia. Most soldiers realised it was the act of keeping busy that was the point, not the final result. Troops who seemed to have too much time on their hands were invariably singled out for extra often monotonous duties and so the more experienced soldiers like Garibaldi had become masters at looking busy at all times to avoid such an irritating mission.

"So Sergeant, seen the counsellor yet?" Franklin asked casually.

"No sir." Garibaldi replied. "No need sir."

Franklin grunted. "Sorry you still feel that way Alfredo."

The use of his first name took him a little by surprise, he nodded slowly and dropped into a more informal voice. "Thank you for your concern Captain, but what happened on Tirrith was just my job. My training prepared me for it sir, it was a surprise sure, but we all handled it."

"Most of the other platoon members have seen the Counsellor, it's just you and Private Tucker."

"I know sir."

"It isn't the combat Sergeant." Franklin said quietly. "We all handle that in our own way, it's the rest of it. The acts you witnessed as a result of Dilgar occupation."

Garibaldi was silent, his mind finding a memory of a hall full of gassed Tirrithans, men women and children.

"Those sort of things, we aren't designed to see that and just walk away." Franklin continued. "Of course you will be affected by it, only monsters wouldn't be."

"Like the Dilgar themselves." Garibaldi commented.

"Precisely Sergeant, and we're human beings, those kind of things don't leave you, not ever. You just need to know the right way to deal with it."

"I understand sir, but believe me, I can handle it."

Franklin gave his Sergeant a long stare. "Fair enough, but after the exercise if you feel different you'll know where to go."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi acknowledged back to his formal tone.

"Well then, lets go meet our new people." Franklin announced loudly. "The Colonel seems quite confident in their abilities."

"I'm sure he is sir." Garibaldi replied neutrally, the coming exercise would tell him what he needed to know about the new officers.

Captain Franklin stepped into his small office followed by Garibaldi, in the room two young looking soldiers immediately rose from their chairs in front of his desk and stood to attention. Franklin nodded to them and waved them down. "Sit down please, My name is Richard Franklin and I'll be your new C.O, this is Sergeant Alfredo Garibaldi who will become your right hand."

Franklin took his chair and as he sat so too did the Lieutenants, Garibaldi remained standing to the left of the Captain. The room was white and not particularly cosy which of course it was never meant to be, with a window behind the Captain's desk looking out over the parade ground. Garibaldi took notice of the framed certificates adorning the Captain's wall, the story of his life displayed from his first commission through to his Captaincy and appointment to the 99th. On a shelf nailed to wall he proudly displayed the Earth force bronze star awarded for the _Ares_ incident and a decent row of service ribbons. He also had photographs of his graduating class from Officer Training Academy.

His desk was more personal, with the standard assortment of stationary and note pads complimented by a basic computer on his right hand side. He had three neatly arranged photographs, one showing his wife, a second showing two girls in neat school uniforms, and a third showing a young boy on what looked like his first day of school. The Captain took a quick look at the photos before opening up the first of the two files on his desk and taking a quick look at it. Garibaldi decided to closely watch the expressions of the two officers as Franklin conducted the dreaded welcome talk, a subtle test of their confidence and nerve.

"Lieutenant Sean Brook." Captain Franklin read slowly after a slight delay. "Born February ninth, 2203 in Glasgow Scotland. I hear it's pretty rough there?"

"A slight exaggeration sir." Brook answered with a barely noticeable Scottish accent, Garibaldi would probably not have guessed his origin without the Captain's statement. "Like most places it has the good with the bad."

"You joined up at twenty one after passing through University and dropping out." Franklin looked up. "you a quitter Lieutenant?"

"No sir."

"You quit University."

"It was not where I needed to be sir." Brook answered plainly. "I thought it would give me a purpose sir, it didn't."

"And so you joined army."

"I did sir."

"Did you find what you wanted."

"No sir, not yet." The officer answered truthfully. "But I do know I am on the right path."

Franklin turned the page. "Well your record is exemplory, numerous commendations, no discipline problems, excellent work in exercises."

"Thank you sir."

"You were given promotion to First lietenant at Twenty six, and have been serving in the 24th Mechanised Regiment, so why are you here?"

"Change of pace sir." Brook said. "Mechanised was a good job sir, but the 99th is Airborne, and that appealed to me sir."

"You have a sense of adventure Lieutenant?"

"Maybe a little sir."

Franklin grunted. "Guess we'll have to see about that." He put down the file. Brook had an easy confidence and very dark hair cut short to his head, as far as Garibaldi was concerned he had the look of a career officer and from the file seemed competent enough.

"Second Lieutenant Emma Fox." Franklin turned his withering gaze on the younger and more slender officer before him. "Born 2209 on the Mars Colony. Local girl then?"

"Yes sir." She replied with noticeably less surety than her comrade.

"Trained at Olympus Mons facility and then went on to officer training back on Earth. How did you find the gravity difference?"

"Most of my family are on Earth Captain, so ever since I was little I've been visiting. I'm used to the one G Earth standard."

"Graduated September last year and this is your first assignment. Did you request it?"

"Yes sir, airborne is the ultimate challenge."

"Challenge?" Franklin regarded her. "Being a private is about challenge, been an officer is about responsibility. Could you lead hardened soldiers?"

"Yes sir I could." She answered meeting his gaze straight.

"Could you order them into certain death, and then follow on right behind?"

"Truthfully, I'll never know until I'm tested. But I am confident that I would sir." She answered "My duty to ensure the welfare of my troops is outweighed only be my dedication to the mission, sir."

Franklin smiled. "The cover notes on General Arnold Sipowitz's autobiography."

She suddenly turned a shade of red. "Yes sir."

"What did you think to General Sipowitz's reluctance to commit United States troops to occupy Pakistan at the start of World War III and in so doing possible avert the worst of the war entirely?"

"I believe it was wrong sir." She said. "Placing western troops in theatre earlier would have forced the two sides into a comprimise far earlier."

"Perhaps you read Admiral Chu Lin's biography which stated the Chinese had a contingency set up to strike the continental United States with a massive Nuclear attack if that occurred, and that the CIA was aware of this and that it would overwhelm the Earth shield Anti ballistic missile system?"

She stuttered. "I was unaware of that sir."

"You should try to read both sides of a war Lieutenant, see how your opponent thinks and don't believe you have an answer to everything."

She seemed embarassed but wasn't hiding away, she accepted she was wrong and did not argue the point, which again Garibaldi considered positive. She had youthful features and short blonde hair framing slim elfin features. She looked sleder and frail but if she passed air mobile selection she must have been especially fit.

"Now, I am assigning you both to Red Platoon who recently lost their command structure to a hostile force," Franklin spoke like a school teacher. "The specifics are classified, but I am sure Sergeant Garibaldi can fill you in on the quiet."

The two Lieutenants shared a quick glance, they had expected to be filling gaps left by promoted officers, not casualties.

"Sergeant," Franklin spoke a bit louder. "Do you have a nick name Sergeant?"

"Yes sir." He answered.

"What is that nick name Sergeant?"

"Crowbar sir." He answered simply.

"Would you like to explain to your new superiors how you came by that name Sergeant Garibaldi?" Franklin was carefully monitoring their expressions.

"During a recent deployment I located a Dilgar special forces soldier and beat him to death with a crowbar. Sir."

Lieutenant Brook gave an impressed nod, Lieutenant Fox couldn't make up her mind between fear and amazement.

"You will be leading men and women like this into battle." Captain Franklin stated. "I guarantee you we will see combat one day soon, the galaxy is rapidly destabilising and we will not be burying our heads in the sand. The Colonel has a major exercise planned which will recreate a full scale planetary assault. This is the perfect opportunity to find your feet."

Franklin stood, and the Lieutenants rapidly rose with him.

"Welcome to the 99th Air mobile. Dismiss."

The stood to attention, turned on their heels, and filed out of the door allowing Franklin to retake his seat.

"Well?" The Captain asked.

"Lieutenant Sanchez was a good man sir." Garibaldi said. "They have a big pair of boots to fill."

"They're highly recommended." The dark officer stated. "The Colonel of the 24th wasn't happy to let Brook go, but when he heard why we needed the replacements he gave in."

"Seems competent sir." Garibaldi said. "And I can work with that."

"Work with it Sergeant?" Franklin gave an amused glance to his NCO. "Ah yes, I forgot it is Sergeants who run the army."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi replied with a faint grin. "But we need officers to draw bullets and take our places at formal dinners sir."

Franklin actually laughed, a very rare occurrence on duty. "Careful Sergeant, we can't let them know that." He sighed. "Lieutenant Fox is new, first assignment, but she finished third in her year and was commended for her fast thinking in a crisis. She has potential, she just needs a little guidance."

"Yes sir, I'll keep an eye on sir."

"Very good Sergeant, dismiss."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi stood to, then headed for the door.

"And Sergeant." Franklin stopped him. "When we go on exercise, try not to let her get the platoon lost."

"I'll keep my own map sir." Garibaldi nodded, then set off on his newest duty. Nursemaid.

Dilgar Fleet command.

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_.

Jha'dur did not look up from the reports as the chime on her door sounded. She finished authorising the final deployment list for her squadron, taking her time about it, and waited to see if the officer at the door at the nerve to press the chime twice. It always fascinated her to see her reputation in action and notice the effect it had on those around her. Most people would grow impatient and try to attract her attention again or wonder if she had heard them the first time, but they also must guess that hurrying the Warmaster would annoy her, and annoying someone who rejoiced in the title 'Deathwalker' was probably not wise. Jha'dur had no idea who was at the door, just that one of the new officers had asked to speak with her on an urgent matter. The fact this person had the nerve to go straight to the fleet commander to discuss the problem made her curious enough to allow the meeting. After two minutes she decided the officer was either quaking nervously with indecision or being highly respectful. She hoped it was the latter.

"Open." She commanded putting aside her reports. Her chamber door parted to reveal a male officer in dark blue fleet colours holding the rank Flight leader and bearing the badge of a distinguished Thorun Pilot on his sleeve, a rare award given to the best performers in flight school. He was a little old to be a fresh recruit and his manner while rigid and clearly a product of military service was still slightly easy, like he was used to it. He ground to a stop before the desk and snapped a quick salute.

"Flight Leader Ari'shan Warmaster."

Jha'dur's expression betrayed a hint of surprise as she finally recognized what had been bothering her about his appearance. "Ari'shan?" she repeated. "Youngest son of the Supreme Warmaster?"

"Yes Warmaster." He answered formally. "If I may speak freely, it is good to see you again."

"Same here." Jha'dur stood with a smile. "The last time I saw you was nearly ten years ago, you were just finishing school and preparing to join the fleet academy."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Please, we are both off duty, do not stand on formality." She waved for him to join her on the deep couch she owned. "What are you doing here? I thought you had been assigned to the General staff?"

Ari'shan joined her. "I had, and with my Father's influence I would have gradually progressed up to a high rank and probably command a fleet in ten years or so."

"And it would have been deserved, you were a bright student I recall."

"Maybe," her friend sighed. "But I don't think it would have been deserved, I need to earn it."

"Your simulations prove you have a solid grasp of tactics." Jha'dur spoke. "And your father is the greatest strategist I know, you will be a natural leader."

"No I wouldn't Jha'dur." He replied curtly. "Not unless I earn command, not unless I set out and prove myself in battle."

Jha'dur's expression grew harsher. "Risking your life to find a purpose proves nothing, except that you haven't been thinking straight."

"Never the less Warmaster," he said formally. "I am here to request a combat posting."

Ten years ago Commander Jha'dur had been working for then Warmaster Gar'shan who was head of Military Intelligence. He had taken her from her dead end future in the science academy and given her the task of creating biological weapons and agents for the Dilgar military, and though she didn't know it at the time she was playing her role in the very first stages of the great conflict currently underway. After a few months in her job she had received an invitation to visit her commander's home, a honour of the highest order extended to just a few people, and the young Jha'dur was understandably nervous.

She had been escorted through the huge gates into what was more of a fortress than a home, armed guards patrolled ceaselessly and early warning systems could be seen concealed in the undergrowth. Gar'shan's home itself was a single level building build of the finest stone, which of course was also incredibly sturdy. She noticed an array of transmitter aerials on the roof to keep him in constant touch with the rest of the war council and an armoured limousine parked to the side of the house, also guarded.

She was escorted inside to a large living room luxuriously appointed with the finest furniture she had ever seen along with an incredibly expensive visual and audio system covering a fair portion of the far wall. A simple fire burned in an alcove looking slightly out of place amid the technology, and she was told to wait here and the Warmaster would see her presently. Jha'dur paced a little bit, she dared not sit down on the furniture without permission, and certainly wouldn't touch the video system to pass the time.

"identify yourself!" Jha'dur was surprised by a childs voice. She turned to see a young boy in fleet uniform staring at her.

"I'm Commander Jha'dur, fourth Intelligence unit." She replied. "And looking at your uniform, I out rank you soldier."

She had to hold back from smiling as the child offered a crisp salute, she guessed he was about ten or eleven years old.

"Rank and name soldier." She demanded with as much seriousness as she could muster.

"Cadet Ari'shan, Imperial Cadet corps Ma'am."

She answered his salute, paying close attention to the young boy. "Ari'shan?"

"I am a son of Warmaster Gar'shan." He clarified confidently.

Jha'dur knealt down to his level, the child was average height for his age while Jha'dur was known to be quite tall for a female of her race. She looked closely into the childs yellow eyes which stared back impassively. "It is a fine name." She said quietly. "You know my father had that same name."

"Yes Commander." He already had his superior officers indulgent relpy perfected.

"Do you want to be a pilot when you grow up?"

"Yes Ma'am." He answered now with a smile. "I've already flown a transport!"

"Really?" Jha'dur sounded impreseed. "Well done cadet!"

"Thankyou Ma'am." The child beamed.

"And where will you fly?" she continued with a warm expression.

"Any where they tell me Ma'am." He replied. "I want to kill Drazi."

"That's the spirit." Jha'dur encouraged. It hadn't been all that long ago she and her brother had learned about their sun's instability. She was still coming to terms with it and was acutely aware than this child could represent the final generation of Dilgar to reach maturity. "I'm sure you'll be a terror to them."

"He is a terror to his family!" A deep voice chided.

Jha'dur immediately snapped up to attention, and comically so too did the child. "Warmaster." They said in unison.

"Stand easy." Gar'shan commanded. "Cadet, you have a report to write."

"Yes sir." Ari'shan chirped.

"Dismiss and complete your tasks, then I will review your work and assign a suitable grade."

"Sir." The child saluted and scampered away, leaving the older officer and Jha'dur alone in the room.

"With permission sir, he seems to be a fine son." Jha'dur remarked.

"He is." Gar'shan nodded. "But very will full and difficult sometimes." He scoffed. "Some say the same of me."

He gestured for Jha'dur to sit down and offered her a drink, which she humbly accepted.

"My I speak freely?" she asked

"You may always speak freely to me Jha'dur." He replied. "I expect and demand it."

She gathered her breath. "What made you choose that name for your son?"

The question was not entirely unexpected, Jha'dur was a bright young woman and was sure to putting all the pieces together. "You recognize it as your fathers given name, Ari."

She nodded. "It isn't a very popular name, and seems at odds with your family's conventions."

"It was a mark of honour." Gar'shan explained. "I named him for my aide and fleet Captain who was killed in action not long before my son was born."

Jha'dur fought hard to keep emotion from seeping into her voice. "You knew my father?"

"I did." Gar'shan nodded. "He was my first officer and my close friend. His loss was a terrible blow for me, though not as bad as it was for you I am sure."

"What happened?" she forced the words out, she wasn't sure she needed to know but her mind was preprogrammed to find out facts, whatever they were.

"That is a story for another time." Gar'shan said solemnly. "But I will say that his final wish was for me to make sure that you and your brother were safe and that you fulfilled your potential. The academy, your position heading the bio research division, your promotion and rank in the military. You earned this yourself, but no orphan would normally be able to afford all of this. I made sure you were not expelled from academy so you could complete your studies."

"Why would you do this?" Jha'dur asked incredulous, forgetting to acknowledge his superior rank.

"Because I swore it to your father." He replied simply. "He wanted to be proud of you, and I am sure that wherever he is, Ari'dur is very proud of you." He offered an awkward smile. "I am, I have three sons, but often feel like in truth I have five children. In a way your brother and you are family to me, and I have a responsibility to see you make the best of yourself."

He stood and walked to a shelf, retrieving and item from it.

"Your father didn't own a lot, and most of it was given to your mother." Gar'shan said. "But not these, his flight wings." He opened his hands to show a gold bird of prey, the badge given to an expert pilot. "I kept these so that one day I could give them to you. I read your instructors reports and you more than earned them. Stand up."

Jha'dur rose, awash in confused emotion.

"I know you wear your mother's locket to remind you of her." Gar'shan took the badge and pinned it to her uniform. "Now you wear these to remind you of Ari'dur." The Warmaster smiled. "Just as your continued success reminds me of my old friend."

She looked down at the gold wings with a lump forming in her throat, preventing her from speaking.

"Congratulations." Gar'shan saluted. "Today you are a true naval officer."

She returned the salute automatically, her mind far too full to register what it really meant. "Thank you sir."

"I'll be seeing your brother tomorrow, I'll be giving him his own set of wings from your Father's duty uniform. Those you wear were from his dress jacket." Gar'shan pointed out. "I would like to be the one to tell him, if you will allow me that?"

"Yes sir, of course sir." She was very surprised the Warmaster would ask her permission for anything.

"You are excelling in your role Jha'dur." Gar'shan smiled. "I see a big future for you. I will be there to guide you and help you as your potential deserves, and to honour my friend. Take a drink to the future."

She raised her glass, hands trembling a little at the revelations of this day. "The future."

"The future." Ari'shan sighed.

Jha'dur snapped out of her memory. "Excuse me?"

"How can I make a future for myself if everyone just thinks I have my position by virtue of my father?"

Jha'dur shook her head. "I know from experience your father wouldn't give you an easy option like that, he just clears the way for you to progress, he doesn't help you up."

"We know that, but I still need to prove myself to the public, and to those who follow me."

"Which is why you ended up here." Jha'dur shrugged. Her fleet had just finished replacing its losses and was no ready to proceed with its attacks. "You're assigned a Thorun squadron?"

"Yes Warmaster." He answered. "A new squadron."

"My fleet is heading for the Hyach homeworld, that is no place for rookies." Jha'dur warned. "The Hyach defence grid makes Ssumsha look like a picnic, more orientated towards killing enemies rather than simple holding them back. You should see their stellar fortresses, we could lose a whole fleet just trying to take on them."

Ari'shan raised his chin. "I do not fear death, not for my people."

"Then you certainly won't be leading my attack." Jha'dur retorted. "Fear of death is what keeps us alive, without it you take too many risks and I abhor unnecessary risks." She lokked straight at the young pilot. "Do you think I fear death?"

His eyes moved back and forth as he tried to find an appropriate answer. "I'm…not sure Ma'am."

"Of course I do." She said simply. "But I find that my enemies fear it more, and I use that to my advantage."

"Warmaster, just give me a chance."

"And if you get killed? What will that do to your father?" Jha'dur pointed. "It will finish him, and with him goes our single strong leader, the war council will fragment into rivals and we all die. That is too big a risk."

"Warmaster." He softened his voice. "Jha'dur, I know father always treated you like a sister to me, and he has sent you out here to fight even if he fears for you."

Jha'dur could see where this was going. "He trusts I am skilled enough not to get myself killed."

"And he lets my two older brothers captain their ships in the war for the same reason. He trusts their skills, so why not me?"

"Against the Hyach defences you will last a few minutes at best, all my ships are veterans of half a dozen battles."

"And how will I earn that if I do not fight at all?" Ari'shan pleaded. "Just let me do this, for our people, for myself and for honour of my father."

The look in his eyes was completely serious, if she refused him he would probably steal a fighter and go to war anyway, then she would have to explain to Gar'shan what had happened to his son.

"Very well." Jha'dur sighed. "But you will not be fighting the Hyach with me."

"I don't understand?"

"I'm assigning you to the Brakiri front, learn your way out there then rejoin my fleet with some real combat under your belt."

"Sha'dur runs that front doesn't he?"

"He does, and he's learned a lot." Jha'dur nodded. "The Brakiri are good fighters, but not as deadly as the Hyach. You will stand a much better chance out there. It's either that or I tie you up and put you on the first transport to Omelos."

"Transfer accepted." Ari'shan smiled widely. "Thank you sister, thank you so much!"

She was a little taken aback at been called sister, but did not show it. "Go gather your bags, your wish is granted." She sighed in resignation. "You are about to go to war."

Brakir, Orbit

Dreadnought _Corumai_

Commander Rolan took a look at his face in the mirror, one of the benefits of serving on such a large ship was a secluded room for the first officer and command staff, including a bathroom. He felt a sudden nausea, and for the forth time lowered his head and retched. He'd been on duty for hours and was getting tired, the anxiety and stress of dealing with a Dilgar fleet on his doorstep was extreme and getting worse everyday. They could see the enemy resupplying and the Dilgar would launch periodic raids and long range mass driver strikes just to keep the Brakiri crews at their stations and out of their restful beds.

He looked up again into the mirror, he was looking drawn and pale which was not a common look for a Brakiri. As a race of desert dwellers they usually had bronzed skin and an overall dark complexion. He grunted in annoyance at his illness and left the bathroom, the system cleaning itself out as he shut the door behind him. Thankfully that system was still working.

"You should see it out there." Rolan was shocked to see his friend Remik sat in his quarters. "Engineers running all over the place. You know gravity is still out on everything below deck twenty."

"What are you doing in here?" Rolan snapped.

"One of the broken systems are door locks." He smiled innocently. "I decided to see how you were doing."

"Fine thank you."

"Your face doesn't agree." Remik noted. "You look like death warmed up."

"Don't jinx it." Rolan dropped in an opposite chair. "Okay, so maybe I could use a bit of medecine."

"You could use six months of rest."

"We all could." Rolan said back. "But that isn't going to happen yet, not until the conscripts get trained up."

Two days after the war began a planetary draft had begun, millions of young Brakiri were being trained by the military while factories went to full wartime production. Unfortunately most of the government thought the war would be long over by the time they should be ready. The Brakiri had been very busy rebuilding their defenses and everything from jury rigged satellites to hastily armed freighters and shuttles was waiting for the inevitable attack, the _Corumai_ with them.

The crew of the ship were full of foreboding, not one of them was optimistic enough to really believe they were going to win a major victory. The Dilgar had been slowly building their forces including a new unit of mass driver equipped warships, and even one of the feared medical ships. In most navies a hospital ship, even an enemy one, was a welcome sight but in Dilgar service hospital ships served a very different purpose. To be taken into one of them was a fate worse than mere death.

"This ship has more engineers running around than it does crew." Remik stated. "Maybe it will actually move this time."

"It'd be a first." Remarked Rolan. "But I've kind of grown attached to the old girl."

"Course you have." Remik gestured around. "First officer gets his own room!"

Rolan chuckled. "It's more than that, I mean think about it. Look at all the effort that went into this ship, all the millions of working hours of construction, years of building, decades of design. Millions of tons of armour, thousands of miles of cables and conduits, this ship is a small miracle."

"A miracle?" Remik grinned. "Now I know you need a break, the thing is a junk pile."

"It's a symbol of our world." Rolan continued. "Sure it isn't perfect, but neither is Brakir. What's important is that it's here ready to defend us all."

"Well, in theory." Remik reminded him.

"I've heard people say that ships can bear an imprint of the people who work on them." Rolan spoke quietly. "Their voices whispering in empty corridors."

"That's just a little weird old friend." Remik frowned. "Just stories cooked up by engineers who work too much."

"Maybe. But it's good to think that a little bit of all those people will be backing us up in a fight. They're a part of this ship, just like we are. This ship has a Brakiri soul, just like you and me."

A warning alarm sounded, a harsh blaring klaxon interrupting all their thoughts.

"Another raid?" Remik asked out loud.

"Now here this." Admiral Dokan's voice came on all channels, if the old man was making the announcement it had to be serious. "Ground stations report enemy ships on the move, set condition one for battlestations. This is no drill."

"Answer your question?" Rolan grabbed his brown uniform jacket and began fastening it.

"I expected a bit more time, at least long enough to find a good drink."

"Maybe afterwards." Rolan finished getting dressed. "Ready?"

"No." Remik stood. "But what the hell, let's go see if this thing can actually make a dent on the Dilgar." He smiled. "I'd like to see their faces if this thing actually gets into the fight."

"She will." Rolan patted the bulkhead. "She want's to fight as much as the rest of us."

They left the room and dashed to the bridge, outside the rest of the Brakiri fleet began to deploy itself one more time above it's homeworld. This was their last chance.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 35

Brakiri home system

Dilgar strike fleet.

The atmosphere in the fleet was positively electric with a low murmur of hushed conversation forming a noisy background in every corridor and duty station onboard the ship. It was one more quirk of battle that Ari'shan hadn't expected and proved fascinated by. He had always imagined the time before battle to be completely silent as the warriors of Omelos gathered their thoughts and steadied their souls for the upcoming trial, but instead the vast majority of his crewmates were laughing and joking or just chatting nonchalantly about how many Brakiri they could kill before the day was out. To say it was a culture shock was an understatement.

Ari'shans life had been a relatively sheltered one, as son of a council member and later the Supreme Warmaster he had gone to the most exclusive schools and the elite of the military academies where his ascension to high ranking service was guaranteed just by his fathers influence. He absolutely hated that, becoming deeply angry and ashamed when he found out he had been assigned a commission within a week of joining the academy without even taking one test and that his future was already decided. Ari'shan didn't want that, he wanted to earn his place as an officer by his own merits and as a result had put every effort into his studies and training graduating at the top of his class far ahead of the other grace and favour students. Unfortunately he had still come away with a job on the General staff on Omelos, sat far behind the lines planning battles and organising strategies, a vital job of course but not for him.

So after a lot of petitioning and arguments he had finally convinced his father to release him to the front lines as a pilot, a role he had trained for and long dreamed of. In practice his skills were exceptional and he had already been award an experts laurels but to date he had never fired his guns in anger and felt that to truly embrace his role and to one day become a Warmaster himself he needed to fight beside his people and accept the risks of battle so he could greater understand what he would be sending his subordinates into during future wars. Naturally his superiors were reluctant, mostly out of a desire to see him live, but Ari'shan had to do this, he had to grow up and the battle over Brakir looked set to do that.

The lighting within the ship changed, becoming an amber tinted shade which permeated the narrow corridors like a warm haze. Dilgar ships were not known for being spacious or comfortable and on some smaller classes the Captains had to share their quarters with the other officers in zero gravity, only the biggest ships had separate rooms for senior officers. Warmaster Jha'dur's lavish quarters would have housed fifty regular crewmen on a frigate or destroyer, and even Ari'shan had no favours billeting with two squadrons worth of pilots in bunks four beds high. Leisure space was something virtually unheard of with only a rough gym and unarmed combat hall the only distractions beyond sleeping and writing up reports. At least as a pilot he could get outside once in a while.

With the light denoting a new alert status the gaggles of officers and crew broke up and efficiently made their way to their combat posts, the fleet was on active standby and it seemed the long awaited battle for Brakir was imminent. Warmaster Sha'dur had taken on his supplies and outfitted damaged ships to their maximum capacity, every vessel that could bear arms was due to be thrown into the lines orbiting the desert world in the distance. The Dilgar had been reinforced with a further hundred ships including a powerful bombardment group equipped with mass drivers, nuclear missiles and biological agents scheduled to begin their attack as the main assault began, the Warmaster hoping to sow confusion and uncertainty in the defenders by attacking the fleets and their homes simultaneously. A large collection of asteroids had been gathered over the last week and formed a store of ready ammunition for the warships.

Ari'shan made his way down a flight of steep stairs and passed by thick blast doors into the hangar bay coming face to face with brightly painted rows of Thorun Dart fighters. They were magnificent craft, the root of many woes in the League and a vehicle which had gained almost cult status back home, its pilots almost revered by the populace. The fighters were unmatched by anything their enemies possessed and had proven a key component to victory in most battles, these particular craft were brand new Thorun MKII fighters fresh from the factories on Alaca glistening in mottled green with the symbol of the Imperium emblazoned on their wings and fuselage, a four taloned claw. Like the craft the pilots were also new, just like Ari'shan though they were of course eager and well motivated.

"Is this it? This is it isn't it?" an excited voice caught Ari'shan's attention. He turned to see the source was a female officer in full flight gear.

"I think so." He answered calmly. "Flight leader Ari'shan, hunter nine squadron."

"Pilot Eri'lor." She returned his introduction. "We're in the same unit."

"So we are." He smiled and noted she had few adornments on her flight suit. "First mission?"

"Yes." She nodded enthusiastically. "I deployed from the academy about two weeks ago, but I have two hundred hours flight time."

"Good for you." Ari'shan encouraged her. "We'll be going into a very hectic battle, I want you to stay close to me, understand?"

"Yes sir."

"I might be flying some difficult manoeuvres, you don't have to match everything I do but at all times watch your position and be aware of any threats. You'll do just fine."

"Alright, I'll do my best." Eri'lor nodded, seemingly possessed by nervous energy. It was nothing new in a fresh recruit about to enter battle for the first time, their minds each handled the stress in different ways and for this young female it was over excitedness. Strangely Ari'shan himself felt no worries or concerns, just a sort of anticipation and curiosity about what it would be like.

The lighting turned from amber to red, the colour of blood signifying danger and risk on a dozen worlds and civilizations. It was a strange coincidence, one of those things unlikely to be ever really explained. In this instance it was a warning to prepare for battle, it appeared the fleet was now fully committed to attack.

"That's our signal to launch." Ari'shan glanced up at the lights. "Remember to stay with me, it'll be just fine."

"Yes sir." The new pilot nodded. "Permission to ask a question?"

"Go ahead."

"Are you related to the Supreme Warmaster?"

Ari'shan smiled despite himself. "Yes I am, and if he lets me serve in this squadron then he must be very sure of my abilities don't you think?"

"I suppose so." Eri'lor nodded without much conviction.

"So if he believes in me, so should you." He grinned. "We'll survive this and toast victory tonight. See you in the stars of glory."

The Thorun had a notably spacious cockpit and Ari'shan settled in comfortably, by now considering the fighter more of a sanctuary or second home than a simple tool of Dilgar policy. He strapped the restraints across his chest and pulled on his leather flight gloves making sure they fitted snugly to his fingers. At this point the average pilot would put on a helmet and fully seal their flight suit, but Ari'shan did not. He still wore the G suit like his comrades to keep him from blacking out during extreme turns and acceleration but he refused to wear a helmet, if he was foolish enough to let an enemy gun hit his fighter and crack his canopy he deserved to die. It was a hard philosophy to live by, but he strove to be the best pilot and the best person he could. He could not falter or give up in this mission, and if he did he believed he was unworthy of continuing to live and death was the logical conclusion.

Across the flight deck the leader of a companion squadron was performing his own ritual, anointing his pilots with blood drawn on their cheeks from a small bowl. Ari'shan recognized it as a very ancient tradition and while it seemed to be useful in motivating that particular unit Ari'shan himself would never use it, he looked on it as a barbaric right and a true warrior should be above all that, a true warrior fought for honour and for the knowledge he or she was better than the enemy. No more, no less. He shook his head at the scene in equal parts amusement and despair, pointless rituals were no match for training and skill. He flipped the canopy controls and brought the clear armoured hood clanking down with a thud and a hiss of pressurized air.

The flight crews made their way out of the hangar leaving the two dozen fighters in the red hued silence, heavily armoured doors sliding down at the exits sealing the bay off from the rest of the ship. His cockpit displays reported the atmosphere in the bay was been evacuated leaving the space outside his Thorun complete vacuum, he reflected that the distance between life and death was merely an inch or armoured cockpit. This was how real warriors fought.

With a jolt his fighter started to slide into position on electro magnetic rails, taking its place facing the hangar's main entrance along with the ships other squadrons. Still he remained calmly curious going over his basic training in his mind and remembering the intricacies of Thorun special tactics, not one thought strayed away from the task at hand, his thought processes becoming as mechanical as his metal steed. His flight recorder came online and he began to hear a series of beeping tones in his comms speakers, the time between beeps slowly lengthening. It was the ships way of giving the pilots a count down for launch, as the gap between beepd lengthened the time for battle grew nearer, it forced the pilots to focus on the silence waiting for the next tone, it centred their thoughts and drew their attention to their fighter and its surroundings.

The hangar doors parted, grinding open silently in the vacuum but shaking the fighters slightly with vibrations passing through the hull. Black sky waited for them, and far in the distance was the coin sized sphere of Brakir half shaded in blackness. He couldn't see the Brakiri fleet but it was there somewhere waiting between the Dilgar and their destiny. Ari'shan did not hate the Brakiri, indeed he didn't hate anyone, but he did believe that if the Dilgar were to live then others had to die to clear a space for his people, and so he committed himself totally to the cause. He did a final pre-flight check and then waited for the last tone.

Brakiri Dreadnought _Corumai_

Admiral Dokan sighed under his breath, it was a sorry turn of affairs when half of his flagships bridge was unlit forcing the crew to use portable lights to adequately see their consoles. The Dreadnoughts performance during the first attack on Brakir had been utterly appalling, it had suffered a series of power failures preventing it from performing anything more than serving as the butt of a million jokes. It was more than embarrassing, it had been almost fatal and with the fate of the Brakiri race itself in the balance the ships battle record was a national shame. Since then teams had been working around the clock to fix the warship fixing up secondary reactors and bypassing damaged systems wherever they were found. The corridors were filled with thick bundles of cables and whole sections were sealed off for plasma conduits feeding the ships main cannons. It was no way to go into battle, but Dokan didn't have much choice. There were ships in his fleet in far worse condition readying to defend their homes, Dokan would not dishonour them by complaining about his own situation.

"Admiral sir." Commander Rolan his acting first officer interrupted his thoughts. "Planetary defence centre on channel one."

"Acknowledged." Dokan nodded and patched the communication to his side console. "Commodore Broma?"

"Admiral." The voice of the ranking officer planetside answered. "Dilgar forces are on the move sir, patching through data to your ship."

The _Corumai_ had a sensor suite and tactical analysis and display systems which put the old planetary defence HQ to shame, sadly none of those systems were actually working. The data seeped through and the main video display showed a simple schematic of the local system.

"They've reinforced." Dokan noted.

"The enemy have approximately four fleets at full strength and a fifth made up of damaged ships from the first attack." Commodore Broma narrated the changing displays. "They are attacking across a wide front, it looks like they are going to try and envelope us."

"I agree." Dokan watched the Dilgar ships spreading out, one fleet held the centre while the other three began branching out like the points of a triangle. "He will pin us with his centre fleet while the three units at the extremes loop around our flanks and attempt to surround us and drown our fleets in a crossfire."

"He's also deploying some Mass driver equipped ships close behind his main force." Broma pointed, highlighting the data for his Admiral.

"They'll be able to hit homeworld before we are even defeated." Dokan grimaced. "He's not even waiting until he destroys our fleet, he's rushing."

"He must be behind schedule, the Dilgar expected us to fall a month ago." Broma reasoned.

"It gives us something to work with." Dokan mused. "If he is in a rush he will be less cautious, we must find a way to exploit that."

"With respect sir we aren't in a position to exploit much." Broma reminded the Admiral. "Our fleets are shattered, crews exhausted, most of our ships are held together with glue and prayers. We can't face the Dilgar on equal terms."

"Your suggestion Commodore?"

"Hold in orbit and support the planetary defences."

"Turn our ships into oversized defence satellites?" Dokan clarified.

"That is my suggestion, yes sir." Broma ordered. "Each facet of the defences supports each other, ships, satellites, ground weapons."

"A solid and reasonable plan." Dokan complimented. "And exactly what Warmaster Sha'dur will be expecting from us, this is why he has chosen to attack from multiple angles because he knows we will not do anything other than hold our line and trust in firepower."

"Yes sir." Broma replied. "If we concentrate our power…"

"As I said a good plan, but not the one we will be following." Dokan interrupted. "No, we will instead play the Dilgar at their own game and launch our own surprise attack."

"Attack sir?" Broma's voice wavered.

"With every ship capable of moving." Dokan confirmed. "We will hit the Dilgar centre and destroy the bombardment ships. We will strike quickly and then retire, achieving our objectives before the rest of the Dilgar ships on the flanks can move in to support the centre."

"We're going to leave the support of the ground batteries?"

"We are, we will meet the Dilgar at range, we do not want them to enter bombardment range of Brakir."

"Sir, the Dilgar are ruthless." Broma spoke. "What if they do not send the flanks to support the centre and deploy them against Brakir itself?"

"Then those ships will be trapped between our fleet and our planetary defences and will be crushed." Dokan replied.

"Or they'll cut off our forces from home." Broma pointed out. "Admiral, I cannot support this decision."

"You don't have to." Dokan snapped. "You just need to follow orders. The fleet will form up and attack the Dilgar centre, those are the orders. You have control of the planet based weapons, activate them and be ready."

"Yes sir." Broma said formally but without conviction, then ended the message.

Rolan had been listening carefully to the conversation and was deeply divided. On the one hand it was an incredible risk and would put their outnumbered fleets in the middle of the Dilgar battlefront, but on the other it would keep the battle itself away from Brakir's upper atmosphere and reduce collateral damage or ancilliary Dilgar strikes on the surface. If they held the initiative they could push the Dilgar back and force a retreat, buying more valuable time for Brakir and hopefully encouraging their neighbours to help. The Dilgar were jamming all communications and had picquets waiting on the hyperspace beacons, the few ships which risked the journey were never heard from again and no one knew if they made it out or were destroyed. Their pleas for help to the League, the Narn and even their trading partners at Earth had been scrambled by the invaders and no signals had reached the embattled populace since the siege began, they had no idea what was happening beyond their borders, it could be the League was battling hard to reach them or were themselves under siege and facing annihilation.

The Brakiri were isolated, and in some ways not knowing was worse than simply learning the Dilgar were still undefeated in their campaign. Help had come once before in the shape of the marauding Balosian task force, but those ships were long gone by now hitting Dilgar supply lines in deep space. Rolan and his people could count on themselves and that was all, the fate of Brakir would rest firmly with the Brakiri. Dokan was a good leader and his crews had confidence in him to do the right thing, but whether that would wok or not against the virtually unstoppable Dilgar was another matter.

"Divisional Commanders answering Admiral." He relayed his information. "Forming for attack."

"Very good." Dokan stood up in front of his command chair. "Bring engines online, very carefully." He ordered. "Then begin the advance."

Dilgar Dreadnought _Conqueror_

"Our units are in position." Captain Evenil said without turning from her console. "Estimate ten minutes before our bombardment ships have range to hit Brakir."

"Fire as soon as the reach optimal range." Sha'dur commanded. Technically the rock throwing ships had unlimited range, but the further away they were the more time the Brakiri defenders had to intercept or deflect the unguided projectiles, so for his purposes optimum range was to close the distance and close the enemy reaction times. "Flank units will concentrate on enemy ships first, then strip the planet of its weapons."

"Warmaster." Evenil's tone changed. "Brakiri fleet is moving."

"Moving?" he frowned. What formation are they taking?"

"It looks like an attack formation." Evenil concluded. "But that makes no sense."

Sha'dur fought to remain calm, he hated it when enemies did something unexpected. He had planned for the Brakiri to sit tight and weather the Dilgar storm, he certainly had not expected them to outright attack. It was completely suicidal as far as he was concerned.

"Tell all flanks to standby, we might need to adjust our plan."

"Confirmed Warmaster, the Brakiri are breaking orbit."

"How many?"

"All of them sir, they're performing a sling shot manoevre."

He grimaced, that would give the Brakiri ships a sizeable speed boost and probably put the battle closer to the Dilgar starting point than to Brakir itself. His biggest problem now was making sure his forces reacted quickly enough to the changing battle. As a rule Dilgar forces were rigid and highly disciplined but they did poorly when presented with a surprise beyond their battle plan, Jha'dur's fleets were the exception and could alter formations and tactics in a heart beat, his sister emphasising creativity and fluid strategy to her officers. Sha'dur had tried to emulate this, but it was still early days and his fleets were still mainly using the fixed tactics outlined in regular fleet doctrine. This could turn really nasty.

"Order Battlemaster Al'rosh to bring his flanking force down to cut off the Brakiri, the remaining flanks will proceed on mission and engage the defences surrounding Brakir." He commanded trying to think ahead and visualise the forces in space as his sister had taught him. "I want fighters airborne and engaging the Brakiri warships, ignore the fighters if possible."

"Confirmed." Evenil's fingers flew over her control panel.

"Then get a message to Naval command, tell them we are engaging the Brakiri."

With a final long tone Ari'shan's speakers whined, then the fighters launch systems kicked in throwing him back in his seat. The main engines roared into life and pushed the Thorun along the Electro magnetic rails and out through the open doorway into space passing between the cruisers forward mandibles and finally becoming free. Out here you had nothing to rely on except your own skills and a handful of your closest comrades, and Ari'shan relished it dearly. The acceleration faded as his ship coasted at an unchanging velocity towards Brakir, his sensor grid coming to life and instantly showing him an armada of Brakiri ships on its way.

"Fleet, this is Captain Evenil." A clipped female voice came through the speakers. "Pentacans will deploy to meet the Brakiri advance, fighters move forward and engage warships at will. Hunter group and Slayer group will engage enemy fighters and bombers to cover the remaining Thorun wings on their strike mission."

As a member of the ten squadron Hunter group Ari'shan was more than happy to follow those orders, he would much rather take on fighters than warships, it was a greater challenge.

"Eri'lor, take your position on my wing." He spoke conversationally. "Remember to stay there and watch my back. We are a team and together we will be just fine."

"I'm with you sir." She replied nervously. "There are a lot of them."

"Yes." Ari'shan agreed. "In fact they outnumber our central fleet, but with our flanks closing we will outgun them three to one, we just need to keep them busy."

"How do we keep them busy?"

"Well I thought we could start by killing them all, that should keep them occupied." Ari'shan suppressed a laugh, maybe the anticipation was getting to him a little. "We'll hit them fast, open your throttle to three quarters and keep a watch on your scanners, you have the agility advantage, exploit it."

"Yes sir." She swallowed hard trying to remove the lump in her throat.

"Just remember, they're more scared of you than you are of them." Ari'shan advised. "Now open yor throttle and keep up."

_Corumai_

"The upper flanking force is altering course," Second officer Remik noted. "It's heading our way."

"What about the other two flanks?" Dokan demanded.

Remik shook his head. "Still heading for Brakir."

Dokan briefly considered turning back, but his fleet had too much momentum by now and they were going to hit the Dilgar no matter what. "Hold course and speed." He decided. "Spin up all batteries, prepare to engage as soon as we reach effective range."

The lighting and gravity on the bridge noticeably faltered as the weapons began their arming cycle, but remained more or less active. So far the ship had managed to keep its place in the battle line and providing nothing fell off or shorted out the _Corumai_ would finally get to justify its existence and perhaps earn some redemption for its past failure. Flanking it were the best ships the Brakiri could scrape together, a few dozen heavy cruisers escorted by light carriers and escort frigates. It wasn't much but it was all they had. On the edges of battle were the more heavily damaged Brakiri ships, and for those ships the coming battle was most likely the last thing they would ever do. Their orders were to delay the advance of the Dilgar flanking forces by forming a living barrier and sacrifice themselves so the more combat capable ships could smash through the Dilgar centre and force a retreat. It was a tactic that the Brakiri had never even considered using a few months ago, now it was an act of extreme courage and selflessness, a quality few would have believed the Brakiri possessed.

"Dart fighters moving our way, intercept course." Rolan read the intermittent sensor data. "I'm picking up nuclear missiles on some of them, ship killers."

"Order all fighters forward to intercept." Dokan kept his eyes fixed on the tactical screens. "Bring the frigates in close to the heavy ships to provide final barrier fire for our core ships, we can't afford to lose anyone before we hit the main line."

"Aye sir, instructing squadrons." Rolan tapped the preset frequencies into the console and gave the release orders for the fighter wings, something the Brakiri at least had plenty of. Ship and ground based squadrons had united and literally swarmed the sky, what they lacked in quality the more than made up for in quantity.

"Two minutes until range." Officer Remik announced. "All weapons armed, oh, and the targeting scanners are actually working."

Dokan suppressed a smile. "Pick me a Dilgar battleship and prepare an alpha strike, let's make an impression."

Rolan wiped the gathering sweat on from his palms onto his jacket, hoping nobody noticed he nerves. His face was set in a harsh and expressionless stare at his console and his mind was forcibly emptied of any thoughts beyond his immediate duty. He watched as friendly units prepared for battle, fighters breaking away without fear to engage the almost legendary Thorun wings while escort ships but themselves between the heavy warships and the main threats to bodily intercept incoming fire and protect the main combat power of the fleet with their lives. The Brakiri were ready to fight for their place in the galaxy, and if courage alone could win the day then his peope had surely secured victory. He whispered a quick prayer and counted the seconds until they entered firing range.

"Flight leader, do you see that!" Eri'lor exclaimed in fear and excitement.

"I see them, Brakiri squadrons." Ari'shan replied intensely, carefully looking for squadron leaders among the hoarde of incoming Falkosi interceptors. "This is our moment, accelerate to full speed and engage any target you get a clean shot at, but remember to stay with me."

"Yes sir." She answered. "This is the real thing, finally!"

"Stay in control, don't let your emotions override your senses." Ari'shan warned. "We're going to have trouble all around us, stay mobile."

"Weapons active." Eri'lor reported. "I'm getting enemy weapon locks!"

"Don't worry about it." Ari'shan said. "Just be ready to evade." He noticed he had about thirty weapons locking on to his own Thorun, this was going to be very interesting.

The Brakiri fighters swooped around the capital ships, dodging between the green cruisers and forming up in loose groups. They weaved between tall fins and even ducked through the beams and supports holding the various gun emplacements rigid on the _Avioki's_ supporting the advance. The did not hesitate to attack, which earned them respect from Ari'shan, but they did so in uneven formations betraying their lack of experience. Personally he was hoping to find one or two veteran pilots somewhere in the group for honourable single combat but he had little concern about blasting his way through the unskilled but worthy pilots currently entering range.

"Are you ready Pilot officer Eri'lor?" Ari'shan asked formally. "Ready to accept either victory or death?"

"I am." She agreed, sounding quite sincere but on the brink of terror.

"Open your throttle to full, pray if you want, and then go without hesitation into the very heart of the enemy. Good luck, and we will toast our victory and our glory either on the flagship of in the after life."

He activated the ships cockpit recorder and selected playback, from the speakers a slow building form of ancient music began to play, a sombre piece of orchestration generally reviled on Omelos for being too miserable and for mourning death instead of celebrating triumph. Ari'shan liked it, he liked to be reminded that all things must end and that everything dies, accepting death meant he no longer feared it and he would not hesitate or second guess himself in the coming battle. As the notes soared mournfully higher he flicked the safeties for his cannons off and rested his finger on the trigger. He took one deep focused and breath and waited for the Brakiri to take the first shot.

The leading Brakiri squadron knew it's stuff, they must have been veterans because they held for a further five seconds after entering range before actually firing, making sure they were opening the engagement at optimum range. On their cue the other squadrons also engaged, they were ordered to follow this veteran unit and try to copy what they did, though ultimately Admiral Dokan expected the rapidly trained new fighter units would serve as little more than speed bumps for the Dilgar dart fighters. The veteran squadron were careful to concentrate their fire on a single enemy squadron while the other units engaged in a more eclectic maner taking shots at whatever targets they thought were easiest to hit.

Ari'shan rolled his fighter out of the way of three separate volleys converging on his craft, flipping over five times in rapid succession as each stream of green energy bolts sailed by. He returned the compliment, firing twice and making a separate kill with each shot. The third Brakiri attacked survived long enough to fire again, forcing Ari'shan to fire braking thrusters on one main engine slewing the Thorun into a tight pivot and allowing the enemy fire to pass through empty space. He fired his twin guns a few seconds before the Brakiri ship raced past, the particle bolts arriving at the precise time the Brakiri ship did. He was captivated by the music that filled his cockpit and the blazing lights dancing all around, so much so it took a moment to realise he hadn't actually locked his weapons on the Brakiri, he had just fired on instinct and hit every time.

White and red Dilgar fire streamed past as Eri'lor made it into range and made her contribution, destroying a novice Brakiri pilot who was flying too slowly and not taking evasive action, a sitting duck in this kind of battle. The Dilgar had more than their share of first time pilots in battle today, but compared to the Brakiri they were already veterans, their training and exercises at the flight academy more than paying off in the developing maelstrom. While the Dilgar held good formation constantly striking and reforming into their units the Brakiri showed very little cohesion with each pilot working alone rather than as part of a team. It was turning into a massacre. It didn't go entirely the Dilgar way, a Thorun shattered silently to the left of Ari'shan, its starboard engine module tracing purple fire across his path as it continued to burn despite being separated from its host fighter craft. There were enough veteran Brakiri out there to make life interesting, and so with his solemn sound track the son of the Supreme Warmaster dropped his fighters nose and headed for the thick of the battle.

_Corumai_

"Entering range in five seconds, all ships preparing to engage." Remik called out, his voice forced unnaturally loud by excitement and fear.

"Forward weapons charged and ready, I have weapons lock on the leading _Mishakur_." Rolan reported.

"Is it the Warmasters ship?" Dokan asked quickly.

"No sir, Sha'dur is keeping back."

"We'll have him beneath our guns before this day is out." Dokan growled the promise. "All batteries open fire."

The _Corumai_ had been built as a dreadnought, a warship aimed at over awing the rest of the League by virtue of its size and power. While the Brakiri conveniently ignored the sheer destructive potential of Hyach battleships when making their boast the _Corumai_ design was armed with a very respectable array of weapons, it had many faults but firepower wasn't one of them. Even in its far from perfect state it neatly outgunned any ship in the Dilgar fleet and had solid enough protection to wither the expected storm of return fire, Dokan was hoping to draw fire to his flagship and in so doing leave his cruiser units free to engage at will.

On his order the heavy lance cannons studding the hull powered up, glowed bright green around their muzzles, and then released a torrent of gravitic energy at the Dilgar lines. The ship had never fired in anger before, in fact in tests it hadn't once released a full powered alpha strike and there were many onboard expecting the ship to either explode or fry its reactors at the first volley, but fate must have been favouring the foolish today and the overly ambitious ship made a text book attack, hitting with all but one of its weapons. The Dilgar dreadnought was cut to pieces, fracturing into thousands of pieces as ammunition stores and weapons capacitors detonated instantly destroying the ship, much to the shock of friend and foe alike.

"Got him!" Remik yelled, his statement greeted by cheers across the bridge.

"Well done people!" Dokan grinned. "Now line me up another!"

"The rest of the fleet is engaging, the enemy lines are weakening!" Rolan added to the euphoria. "Reading damage to multiple ships!"

"Keep us on course, continue firing!" the exuberant Admiral urged. "Fire at will!"

_Conqueror_

"I was rather hoping that monstrosity would explode as soon as it engaged." Sha'dur sighed. "Pity, that would have made my day."

"The Brakiri are in range Warmaster," his aide reported. "Damage to the leading Pentacans."

"Time on target." Sha'dur ordered a tactic his sister had suggested to him. "Missiles, guns and lasers. If that flagship won't destroy itself we'll help it along." Whoever the Brakiri admiral was he seemed to have spirit and Sha'dur was sure his sibling Warmaster would offer the enemy respect for at least trying to force the Dilgar onto the defensive, but personally he just thought it was a rather foolish tactic. Their optimism had blinded them to the truth of the situation, that they were outgunned and outclassed which Warmaster Sha'dur was about to explain to them.

"Begin firing sequence."

Missiles sprouted from across the Dilgar lines, born in white puffs of ejected gas before their engines kicked in with a blue and purple train of ions. They would wobble slightly as the parent ships fed them targeting data and course corrections, then they lined up and lanced straight for their targets on the Brakiri frontline. The tactic required all the precision and discipline the Dilgar and imprinted on their crews, the idea was ti time each separate barrage from each separate battery across the fleet to ensure every singly weapon impacted at the same time. Missiles were the slowest moving weapons and were fired first, then came bolt cannons and finally lasers which would arrive almost instantly. Timing these strikes on a single ship was a difficult task in itself, timing them across an entire fleet was a work of art.

The Brakiri ships continued their drive on, laying down a constant raking fire against the Dilgar fleet and leaving the missiles to the escorts. Half a dozen more cruisers and destroyers were brought down and fell out of formation but still the fleet held its fire until the appointed moment, restricting themselves to point defence guns to knock down stray fighters and occasional missiles. With cold willpower they waited until the counters reached zero and only then did they return fire, a thick fusillade of orange bolter fire bursting from hundreds of cannons and silently rolling through space. They closed quickly on the Brakiri catching up to the missiles enroute and a heartbeat before they met the enemy they were joined by blinding laser fire racing up to join the strike.

The Brakiri force ploughed head long into the solid wall of destructive energy and vanished, shattered into a thousand pieces of debris where ships had once been. The entire advance was stopped dead by the precision and brutality of the Dilgar response as the heart of the fleet was torn out and flattened within sight of the planet they were defending. The last intact warships of the Brakiri fleets took the main brunt of the attack, those proud few ships which were the key to Admiral Dokan's plan and salvation for the billions waiting expectantly below were reduced to a collection of broken parts and hollow hulls. The Brakiri hopes faltered and died along with the ten thousand officers and crew manning those ships, gone in an instant. They had hoped raw courage and determination alone would win them the day, but the Dilgar it seemed were providing a harsh education in the realities of effective total war.

"Advance and close the range." Sha'dur said evenly observing the destruction. "Where is Battlemaster Al'rosh?"

"His force is just about to enter range behind the Brakiri." Evenil replied.

"Very good, all ships will engage at will. Pick apart the survivors and then support the bombardment ships." The Warmaster commanded. "Location of the other flanking forces?"

"Closing on Brakiri orbit, they'll be engaging in minutes."

"Exemplory Captain, this battle will see its fair share of medals and commendations. Relay my orders and follow the fleet in."

Brakir, Government centre.

Minister Brocat kept his eyes fixed on the sky, in the dull evening light he was able to make out the distant flashes a few hundred thousand miles away, almost spitting distance in stellar terms. He was moved and made uneasy by the strobing lights, but he realised that while they still occurred it meant there were Brakiri ships still in combat and the skies were being hotly contested. It was when the sky returned to darkness that he was most afraid of.

"I've found some reports." Minister Norila joined Brocat on one of the balconies attached to the outside of the Syndicracy building, the centre of government on Brakir. Most of the leaders and politicians were long gone to remote bunkers far from the population centres almost certain to be hit in the first wave of attacks. Brocat stayed because he decided he would rather by atomised by a falling rock than live on slowly wasting away in the wilderness from the effects of a Dilgar seeded plague. He didn't consider it courageous, just a logical choice in the circumstances.

"Anything new?" he asked his fellow politician without taking his eyes of the macabre light show.

"It's confused, but not good." The nervous man answered, he too had come to the conclusion that a quick death was the best he could wish for but wasn't quite so calm about it as Brocat was. "Some say our fleet is still advancing, some say te Dilgar are almost in orbit."

He took in the information. "What about our military?"

"They're too busy to return my calls."

"I suppose we'll just have to trust them then."

Norila released a nervous laugh before quietening down. He really wasn't handling this well. Brocat couldn't blame him, he didn't have the long years of keeping a neutral demeanour in corporate negotiations or League debates with Brocat could call on, nor had he really fulfilled his ambitions and would be dying without believing he had reached his potential. It didn't really matter faced with the consequences of what could happen if their defences fell, but clearly Norila could barely accept his own fate, let alone comprehend what was truly at stake for Brakir as a whole.

For a few more moments they stood and watched in morbid fascination as lights flickered and danced high above hinting at the massive explosions that must be surrounding the battle field. For a long time the lights had been concentrated in one part of the sky, but as they continued to watch they began to spread out and seem larger.

"I think they're getting closer." Norila chattered.

"Maybe, it's hard to tell."

Brakiri tended to have remarkably good vision, even in the dull light of the setting sun and Brocat tried to focus on the unfolding battle far overhead to find the tell tale weapons flashes or maybe even reflected light from a low flying cruiser to indicate the fighting had moved to orbit. He saw a few indications of battle but couldn't really tell for sure, and it frustrated him.

"Can you see that?" Norila pointed to movement on the horizon. "Low in the sky."

Brocat followed his companions directions and quickly caught the twinkling rising up above the desert sands and into the sky, at first it was a single point of light like a particularly bright star, but soon it was joined by more and more stars all following on and moving against the black background.

"It's beautiful." Norila looked on in wonder. "I didn't know ships looked like that, are they ours?"

"I don't know." Brocat frowned. "They are keeping formation, looks like they are just settling into orbit."

"Well the battle is still going on." Norila pointed out indicating the flashes in another part of the sky. "So we still have ships engaging."

Suddenly more bright sparks began dotting the sky around the new formation crossing the horizon, the signs of battle definitely indicating the forces were in orbit.

"I don't think they are ours." Norila began to back away.

"You can't tell from this far away." Brocat still squinted, looking for the colour of weapons fire.

"No, but they can." He pointed out across the city before turning and fleeing indoors.

Brocat looked down in time to see a structure rising up at the edge of the city, a vast tube braced by a lattice of girders and wires slowly rotating and elevating. It was one of the planetary defence cannons, Brakir's final line of defence from attack and the fact these four hundred metre monsters were being armed told Brocat exactly how desperate things had become. The cannons were virtual copies of the lances fitted to heavy cruisers but with superior power generators and hence better rates of fire. They did however have one major problem, namely they were designed for battle in space and not for deployment on the ground. During test firings in the desert the weapon had managed to heat the area around it so much the sand had fused to glass for almost three hundred metres in each direction, not to mention deafening the firing team. In vacuum of course there were no such problems, but on Brakir these weapons had been ruled unsafe for anything but extreme emergencies.

Brocat did the smart thing and ducked.

The muzzle blast shattered windows across the city and sucked up air in an inferno of blazing light as the energy released by the heavy cannon ignited the surrounding atmosphere and true to form glassed a few hundred metres of desert. The ground jolted with a small tremor and the thickly built government centre shook and rattled, dust falling from the ceiling and walls dislodged by the shock. The scream of the hurricane speed winds sucked up behind the energy bolt were load enough from Brocat's position miles away, he was thankful the cities inhabitants were all safe in bunkers and shelters because anyone caught outside would be very sorry.

He risked standing up and peering out as the cannon recharged, across the flat desert horizon he could see other weapons engaging, bright green bolts trailed by fire and black smoke arcing high into the air, sometimes passing overhead and giving the illusion of curving through the air. He watched fascinated for a moment, then remembered to take cover again as the nearest gun fired with jaw shaking force and ear splitting noise lighting the whole city for a brief moment before the green light faded. They were fearsome weapons, and despite the damage to property must have done wonders for civilian morale as they imagined the pure destructive effect they must be having on the Dilgar. But in truth Brocat knew the Dilgar had weapons which far outclassed these guns, he'd seen footage of mass driver attacks and if the Dilgar managed to bring bombardment ships in range they could unleash devestation beyond comprehension. On Alaca a billion people had been killed in the first hour of the bombardment, on Brakir where the population was even more centralised around the scarce water supplies the casualties would be even more horrendous.

He stayed on the balcony laying down to avoid the periodic muzzle blasts from th defence grid, looking up into the blackening sky and tracing each volley as it sailed lazily upwards getting fainter and fainter before ending in another flash like a thousand others. The defensive guns were banging like hells anvil, if it was uncomfortable down here it must have been utterly lethal in orbit.

_Corumai_

The damage had been tremendous and would have gutted the average heavy cruiser, it had been a minor miracle that the flagship had survived and on a day like this the Brakir needed every miracle they could count. The attack had stalled and initiative was lost, grinding to a halt mired in the wrecks of the spearhead force which had fallen to the precise Dilgar counter attack. Now thse enemy ships were bearing down on two sides to finish them off.

"Damage report!" demanded the Admiral.

"Forward and port hull heavily damaged." Rolan shouted back. "Power grid is holding but weapons on the port hull are shorted out, engineers working to repair."

"Where is our support?"

Rolan checked his scanners, then checked again.

"Commander?" Dokan pressed.

"Our escorts are gone sir, we have two intact cruisers left."

The news shocked Dokan into a moments silence before he recovered and spoke again. "What about the other ships, the second rates too damaged to take point?"

"Err, most of them are still with us sir." Rolan confirmed. "Most of the enemy fire was directed at our best fighting ships."

"That means we still have a fleet, and we can still achieve the objective." The Admiral forcibly regained his focus and set about motivating his crew. "The Dilgar are expecting crippled ships and defeated crews, let's give them the last surprise of their worthless lives! All ahead full!"

Officer Remik carefully guided the wounded ship through the tangle of destroyed cruisers which had surrounded it, avoiding them out of reverence more than necessity and then setting the _Corumai_ on collision course with the nearest Dilgar sqaudron. The advance began again with Dokan in the lead, the scraped together remains of the Brakiri defence fleets falling into position alongside the command ship and arming what weapons they had. If the Dilgar were surprised by the rapid redressing of the Brakiri fleet once more into an organized group they made no reaction, they simply adjusted their course to intercept th enew line head on and waited for a clear shot.

The Brakiri got in first firing at virtually point blank and shredding a section of the Dilgar line. Undettered the feline species returned fire shot for shot bringing down some of the damaged cruisers and rattling the _Corumai's_ hull. Dokan finally released his bombers and whatever reserve fighters he had left and they charged forwards into battle with the enemy cruisers, scarring green hulls with close ranged fire. The Dilgar tried to wrap around the edges of the Brakiri force but Dokan didn't take the bait and drove on regardless with the fleet command ship and the mass driver equipped cruisers still considered his primary target. Stubbornly they attacked, and while losses mounte they did not break and began to destroy or disable more and more attackers.

Ari'shan didn't even adjust speed as he dodged through the spinning debris, trusting his reflexes to see him through the potentially deadly terrain at near full speed. His wing mate Eri'lor was being more cautious but to her credit was doing a good job of keeping up and had distinguished herself in the engagement making three kills so far, although Ari'shan himself had so far defeated eleven separate fighters. With the sudden change in Brakiri tactics Hunter group had been recalled to provide cover for the central strike fleet and intercept the newly arriving Brakiri Pikitos class strike craft, a heavy vehicle which represented quite a threat when deployed in numbers. Point defences across the fleet were busy engaging but Ari'shan could see one cruiser spinning out of control with its engines destroyed by a concentrated strike.

"We'll be going in fast and staying close to the big ships." Ari'shan commented. "It's the best way to avoid anti fighter guns. There are enemy fighters in the area so I want to change roles, you go for the strike craft and I'll watch your back and take on any interceptors."

"Okay sir." Eri'lor still sounded unsure, but thankfully her nerves had vanished. She'd managed to sta alive in the middle of a titanic dogfight with fighters exploding constantly on all sides, it had been the best therapy she could have wanted and drove everything except her training from her mind. She was a little hesitant at taking the lead, but Thorun pilots were taught to be flexible so she strengthened her resolve and nudged ahead of Ari'shan's fighter.

"It looks pretty thick up there." She commented. "They're close enough to shout insults!"

Ari'shan chuckled. "Good, gives us cover to exploit. You're doing great, just keep your mind on the job, find a target and follow your training."

The two fighters cruised into battle holding a tight paired formation, the rest of the group following in pairs or quartets and setting up to intercept the marauding Brakiri craft. They flittered through thte edges of the battle with neither side really paying much attention to the incoming fighters. Ari'shan passed close to a heavily damaged Brakir cruiser with most of its rear section shot away including propulsion. Momentum and inertia were keeping it going through the heart of the Dilgar forces engaging whatever ships came into its arc. It was both pathetic and strangely noble, a sentiment he had felt a lot while engaging the Brakiri today.

"Sir, enemy fighters on the scope." Eri'lor interrupted his vigil. "Dead ahead."

"You have the lead officer, decide on the best attack speed and angle, I'm following on."

The new pilot opened the throttle a little more and accelerated, aiming to sweep in behind the Brakiri and take advantage of their weakest spot. The formation was passing between the ranked enemy ships and seemed to be lining up on a heavily engaged Dreadnought currently taking on three other Brakiri warships and certainly too distracted to focus on a strike unit. Ari'shan stayed close as Eri'lor lined up and prepared to fire, keeping a watch on the escorting fighters which seemed to be themselves distracted by the battle ahead. She held off using active weapons until the last possible moment so she did not tip off the Brakiri fighters, and then when she achieved the best speed and position she went weapons hot and locked on.

The Brakiri reacted far too slowly, betraying their lack of military training. The fighters began to wheel away and turn but the strike craft remained on course taking just the minimum evasive action, they were easy targets and Eri'lor began bringing them down one after the other. The fighters were more tricky, Ari'shan destroyed two as they were still trying to decide what to do, and a third as it pulled a sharp turn which would have made the average Thorun pilot shake their head and sigh. Two Falkosi fighters lined up on the pair of Dilgar, one on each fighter which was a mistake, they should have tried to overwhelm Ari'shan first then go for Eri'lor, they didn't stand a chance one on one with a Thorun piloted by even a first timer. It was their incredible bad luck they found themselves up against a pilot as skilled as Ari'shan, and it took little effort to remove both craft from the universe.

With the strike craft taken down by Eri'lor the two pilots found themselves in the thick of the battle as the Brakiri slammed into the Dilgar lines and began firing in all directions at the ships which by now surrounded them. Likewise the Dilgar ships were suddenly confronted with targets in efery arc and returned fire at anything that moved, burning holes through the weakened Brakiri armour while loosing vast sections of their structure themselves to return fire. The battle had turned into a close range slugging match with all thoughts of tactics and strategy firmly thrown out of the nearest airlock, it now came down to Brakiri determination and Dilgar training to decide which side would blink first.

Eri'lor made a sharp sideways slide as a spent missile spiralled past, its engine assembly shot away or malfunctioning. A heavily damaged Brakiri light cruiser collided head on with a Dilgar strike ship ten miles above Ari'shan's cockpit, the Brakiri ships tougher structure splitting the Dilgar ship lengthways before both exploded in an avalanche of spinning wreckage. The side of a Dilgar dreadnought was pitted with a series of explosions as it came under fire from a pair of frigates, moments later the attackers were shredded by massed fire from particle bolters and laser cannons. All around ships from both sides fell apart under heavy fire, some in blinding explosions, some breaking up in a crackle of flames, others simply seemed to stop fighting and drift away out of control. There didn't seem to be any pattern to it, just the randomness of battle and the fickle nature of the fates.

"Fighters." Ari'shan barked. "Coming in high, twenty degrees."

"I see them." Eri'lor replied. "Do we attack?"

The other officer tried not laugh. "We certainly do, it's what they pay us for."

"Accelerating to engage."

"Get in close, use your agility and don't let them dictate range."

The two Thoruns peeled away from their previous course and pointed their noses at the incoming Brakir flight, the smaller green fighters darting around the wreckage that choked space. Trails of glowing hot debris still radiated their heat into the vacuum and destroyed fightes bounced and clanged on passing warships. It was all the expected detritus of battle with one exception, no escape pods. Both sides were fighting to the end and neither abandoned ship instead preferring to ram their enemies in the final moments.

"Weapons lock." Eri'lor stated.

"Jink left, we'll pass either side of them. Fire when you get the shot."

With a burst of manoeuvring thrusters the two Dilgar craft slid sideways opening a gap between them then angled their noses slightly inwards. The Brakiri held course and began firing from long range hoping to score a lucky hit, most of the rounds went wide but one struck Eri'lor and merely bounced of her Dart fighters toughened hull leaving a black scar and a judder in the controls. Ari'shan held his fire and waited until the Brakiri grew closer, performing quick sideways slides to avoid the more accurate fire. He waited until they reached less than a mile distant, then fired. His first target exploded in red and blue flame with a direct hit, its wingmate dodging the fire ball and sweeping around below. Ari'shan had anticipated that and made sure he had another pair of particle bolts ready to meet the Falkosi as it emerged from the bright light, tearing it's fron half completely off. He calmly dropped his port wing as the still active engine section of the enemy fighter spun crazily past and checked on Eri'lor, just in time to see her take an engine off her last opponent and send it spinning wildly out of control to be lost in the confusion of battle.

"Well done officer." Ari'shan congratulated. "How are you feeling?"

"Feeling sir?" Eri'lor semed bewildered at the question.

"Yes, what are you feeling?"

"Nothing sir." She answered plainly. "nothing at all."

"Good." He smiled, she had mastered her emotions and might make a decent flyer after all. "Lets find something else to shoot at, form up on my wing. We're doing well."

Outside the cockpit ships wheeled and died, A Dilgar gunship raored past Ari'shan heading in the opposite direction to his fighter firing intense volleys at something in the distance behind him. A Brakiri cruiser was struck by four laser cannons, its hull folding inwards as the forward section detached and fell away in flames. Two Dilgar frigates raced towards the _Corumai_ itself, the ships heavy weapons discharging constantly. The first frigate lost its entire right side, wobbling out of control and barely missing the dreadnought, spinning out of control and away into the confusion. The second frigate took a hit to the bow, back flipping the small warship and by sheer explosive force sending the vessel in the opposite direction. The intense G forces spelling certain death for the crew.

All around the battle ground on with both sides pounding each other ceaselessly taking as much damage as they dished out, with the people of Brakir watching the battle unfold from the world below.

_Conqueror_

Warmaster Sha'dur's expression betrayed his concern, tactical displays showed his lines were thinning rapidly and even though every passing minute brought another wrecked Brakiri ship those infernal money grabbers were pushing with single minded determination straight into the heart of his fleet. Losses to his core units were mounting and even with his flanking units heavily engaged the central line wasn't going to hold.

"Captain Evenil, status of Brakiri orbital defences." He asked seriously.

"Still active sir, it'll take at least half an hour to break through them."

"And our central line is going to break in minutes." He cursed under his breath, the flanking move should have worked perfectly, but by splitting his forces the Brakiri Admiral had completely thrown out Sha'dur's timing. He had taken massive losses, but in doing so had ruined Sha'dur's plan.

"Shall we order the flank attacks to support us?" Evenil asked.

"If they break off and try to engage the Brakiri fleet they expose their backs to the planetary defences." The Warmaster thought out loud hoping the act would draw a moment of inspiration. "if they keep engaging and we break the Brakiri fleet will torn around and then they can strike them from the rear, trapping them between two hostile forces. By the time we recover and counter attack it will be too late."

"Warmaster, what are your orders?"

He desperately wracked his mind for a solution, trying to find a way around the immenent defeat. He tried to decide what his sister would do, what incredible and dangerous tactical manoeuvre she would execute, how she would redeploy, where she would hit. He found himself screaming inside, he should know this, he should have a solution, a way to achieve victory. Brakir had to fall today, it was the last window of opportunity they had before the fleet had to press on into the core of League space. He didn't deserve to be a Warmaster, this was ridiculous, he couldn't lead one ship let alone four or five entire fleets. He was badly out of his depth and nothing like Jha'dur.

"Sir?" Evenil pressed.

He forced his anger and frustration aside, he needed to make a decision, a tactic which played to Dilgar strengths.

"Order all ships to fall back."

"General retreat Warmaster?"

"General retreat to the rally point." He confirmed. "We can't beat them and I won't lose ships needlessly, that is one thing I have learnt."

"Affirmitive sir. Shall I ready jump engines to leave the system?"

"Leave?" Sha'dur frowned. "We aren't going anywhere. Regroup the fleet and standby for further orders."

Sha'dur realised he had been aiming for the wrong objective all along, the Brakiri fleet wasn't his mission, the planet itself was. He didn't really need to destroy the fleet if he could just get a good clean shot at the planet.

"Prepare bombardment ships, this will require us to act fast."

_Corumai_

"Sir they're retreating!" Commander Rolan yelled in an ear piercing shout of joy.

"Confirm that!" Dokan's usually calm aura slipped for a few moments.

"Yes sir!" he laughed out he was so incredibly relieved. "The Dilgar are disengaging! They're on the run!"

"Prepare to pursue!" Dokan snarled. "We can chase them down and finish them off!"

"Admiral sir, we're still heavily outnumbered." Rolan quickly changed his tone. "And we have ships retiring from battle over Brakir which could still cut us off."

Dokan was caught by a moment of indecision, basic strategy told him to keep his knife at the Dilgar throat and turn retreat into rout, but he also had to be aware that his enemy was a highly skilled and opportunistic force. If he presented them even a minor window to inflict critical damage on his fleet they would probably take it. He had a very serious responsibility to keep Brakir safe, and even if he did beat this force it would only bring down another half dozen fleets on him next week, probably under the command of Deathwalker. The Dilgar could replace their losses, the Brakiri could not.

"Alright Commander, conduct a steady retreat to Brakir." Dokan ordered. "We did what we set out to do, we held them off and bought more time."

And time was what Brakir most needed. Every industry on the planet was working constantly to churn out defences, they might not be able to mass produce ships but they could create vast numbers of satellites, fighters and ground based guns. Individually they were no major threat, but in their thousands they could hold off a full scale Dilgar attack with or without help from the navy. Given time Brakir would become a fortress, and if that time had to be bought with the lives of Dokan's fleet then that is the price Brakir would pay for continued survival.

The badly mauled ships slowed down and began to fall back, opening up the range between the Dilgar forces and themselves. They continued exchanging fire, and a damaged _Avioki_ suffered a direct hit to its main reactor ending its career, but as far as Dokan was concerned the engagement was over. Fighters broke contact and turned for home at full thrust leaving the Thoruns to retreat backwards, maintaining a withering fire as they separated. There was a final volley of missiles from the Dilgar before they finally moved out of range leaving a mess of broken ships and dead bodies as silent witness to the carnage inflicted by both sides.

"I don't believe it!" Eri'lor ranted. "We were winning! We had them at our mercy!"

"Clearly not." Ari'shan replied calmly.

"They were outgunned, out numbered, out fought!" she listed angrily. "Why the hell are we retreating!"

"Fleet command has it's reasons. Just form up and follow me. There'll be plenty more action in this war, enough even for you!"

"I'm being serious!" Eri'lor pressed. "We shouldn't be running from Brakiri!"

"Orders are orders, and trust me when I say you do not want to disobey them." Ari'shan's voice grew more stern, his wing mate was starting to lose her composure as an affect of the adrenalin in her system. He liked her and thought she'd be a good pilot to have in his unit, the last thing he wanted was for her rash words to get her executed for insubordination. "They're time will come."

Sullenly Eri'lor remaned silent and followed her wing leaders course, passing by the damaged ships of the fleet and heading for their carrier. She observed in detached wonder the massive gashes and rents of their fleet ships, holes she could have fitted two squadrons of fighters through burned into cruisers and dreadnoughts, some with their edges still glowing from the heat of the impact. Others were gushing air from vents like blood leaking from veins and arteries, and at least one destroyer had been holed completely through its hull, as she passed by she could see the stars and a distant ship through the gaping wound.

"Hunter nine to base, we're preparing for recovery." Ari'shan announced and began slowing down. "Please provide landing details."

"Hunter nine hold your position." A curt voice replied. "We have orders to keep all fighters deployed."

That puzzled Eri'lor. "They don't want us to land?"

"Confirm that please base?" Ari'shan enquired.

"Confirmed." The controller replied. "Reform your unit and stand by for orders. That is all at this time."

Eri'lor was getting more confused now, they were retreating but not recovering their fighters. "Sir, what's going on?"

"At a guess I'd say the Warmaster is planning a little trick." Ari'shan answered. "I think you got your wish officer, we aren't finished yet."

_Conqueror_

Sha'dur watched as his ships returned quickly to their fall back positions and the Brakiri did the same, lumbering slowly back towards orbit proceding only at the speed of their slowest ships. He had a suspician Jha'dur would be proud of him for his newly developed strategy to win this battle, it was extremely unconventional as far as tactics were concerned and was based on his understanding of the Brakiri mind set rather than on knowledge of their technical or military weaknesses.

As Ari'shan suspected this battle was not over, Sha'dur was playing the Brakiri expectations and using one of the less obvious Dilgar strengths to his advantage, their fleet drills. Both the Brakiri and Dilgar fleets were trained to immediately reform after a battle, to gather their ships into formation, separate combat worthy ships from crippled ones and prepare for whatever came next. Most races did this, some took hours to fully implement a recovery, some even took days. The Dilgar took minutes.

As he checked the tactical displays he saw Battlemaster Al'rosh's forces which had been the least affected were already fully formed up and ready for combat, with his other ships likely to be prepared in a few more minutes. The central force and the wings which had hit the defences were damaged but still a potent force and capable of tying up what was left of the Brakiri defence forces. The enemy fleet itself was still retreating and had yet to even begin reforming its lines, they were out of place and in absolutely no condition to oppose Sha'dur's next move. He could afford to ignore them and rely on his regrouped central fleet to keep them busy, his main mission would be assigned to Al'rosh's forces. A full scale attack on Brakir itself. He could bypass the fleet, punch through the defences and devestate the planet before anyone knew what was happening.

Jha'dur would be very pleased.

"Battlemaster," he opened a channel. "You have your orders, commence attack."

"New orders coming through." Ari'shan noted. "Ah, what did I tell you, we're going back in."

"That's more like it." Eri'lor cheered herself up.

"We're covering the bombardment group, how is your fuel looking?"

"Still over two thirds capacity." She answered. "All systems in the green."

"Alright then, same strategy as before. Keep on my wing and target the bombers first."

Once again the Dart fighters began to move, this time setting themselves up alongside the mass driver armed warships coming in from reserve. Above and ahead of them the flanking force of Battlemaster Al'rosh was already on the move heading directly for the planet while behind them the damaged Dilgar main force was reordering its lines and preparing for a rapid advance again. While the Brakiri were exhaling and thanking whatever deities they worshipped the Dilgar were a couple of minutes from hitting Brakir itself and taking advantage of the Brakiri's exhaustion and weakened forces. They had a small window of opportunity to act before the Brakiri could adequately respond, and Sha'dur was seizing the moment. Dilgar ships raced forward one more time with nothing in position to stop them.

_Corumai_

The euphoria evaporated in a heartbeat, the cheers died and everything went terribly silent. None of the crew had any idea what to say, much less what to do. The Dilgar had turned their own strategy back against them and were poised to strike homeworld, lines of ships had already overtaken the retreating Brakiri and were fast entering firing range of the planetary defences. Fighters and heavy warships were locking on to the defence platforms, but far more dangerous were the bombardment ships preparing to lay down incredible damage to the Brakiri ecosystem.

Dokan swore heavily, startling the few nearest officers out of their stupor. "What do we have nearby?"

"Nothing sir." Rolan's throat was dry as bone. "All our mobile forces are here, there are just a few dozen platforms and ground based guns in their path."

"Admiral, more Dilgar ships closing on our rear." Officer Remik added. "At our current speed they're going to overrun us."

Their fleets speed were dictated by four cruisers which had taken massive engine damage and were barely mobile. Other ships could move quicker, some even had fully operational drives, but if he released them to head home at best speed it would mean splitting up his forces. If he didn't and kept them together the main Dilgar force would hit them and prevent them from engaging the planetary assault forces. Admiral Dokan was being forced into a corner, it was an almost impossible decision to make and whatever he chose to do it was probably going to cost him the last few ships still active in the navy. Not for the first time he cursed the Dilgar name.

"All ships will break formation, proceed into orbit at maximum possible speed." He said with a great heaviness to his words. He was comdemning the slower ships to certain destruction, without support from the rest of the fleet the Dilgar would turn them to scrap in seconds. "Engage the mass driver equipped ships, take them out anyway you can." He emphasised the last part. "Any way you can."

The Brakiri formation began to spread out as different ships accelerated through different speeds, the lesser damaged ones streaking away to engage the forces approaching orbit. Fighters and strike bombers raced ahead of them, engaging without support was tantamount to suicide but even if success cost each of them their lives they would do it. From the planet the very last line of defence began engaging, anything from armed freighters to assault shuttles put themselves between the enemy and home, some ships were totally unarmed but they would at least be able to soak up damage and keep the more capable ships in action.

Rolan watched the four crippled ships grow further behind, even the painfully slow _Corumai_ was outrunning them which said a lot for their chances. Dilgar fighters flew right past without sparing any attention for the lame Brakiri vessels, and for a while Rolan wondered if they would totally ignore the vessels as no threat. But of course they did not, and Dilgar cruelty once more raised its head as passing destroyers fired on the helpless ships, destroying them in short order. He was incredibly ashamed of himself for following the orders to abandon those vessels, even though he understood it was the right thing to do and the rational thing to do, he could not accept that inside. The ships had not asked for help or cursed their comrades for leaving them, they knew as well as anyone else what was at stake, but for Rolan this was going to stay with him until he died. None of this made sense, none of it should be happening. The Brairi had done nothing to deserve this, they had never offended the Dilgar, there was no reason for this war and certainly no justification for genocide. They just showed up and decided to kill everything as if on a whim, and that filled him with indescribable rage. His sorrow was turned into cold anger, something which was shared by the rest of the crew.

The Dilgar had outsmarted them, but they weren't going to outfight them. The Brakiri navy had bled itself dry protecting its home and it ould be denied victory by a last minute change of tactics from the enemy. They had paid for victory on this day, and they were going to collect it.

"There are lots of targets ahead." Ari'shan reported. "Most of them appear useless, random shuttles and freighters."

"Shall we engage?" Eri'lor asked eagerly.

"No, they're unarmed. No threat." He ordered. "No challenge."

"But sir, orders are to destroy everything we encounter."

"I am aware of that." he replied in a short and stern answer. "We will focus on armed platforms, leave the civilian ships to less skilled and less intelligent pilots who consider them worthy targets. We are above that, now look for some real targets."

Whether she was convinced or not didn't matter and Ari'shan noted she altered course to bypass the easy targets. He nodded with approval, it was not how many kills you acquired but the quality of your opponents. That was how true skill was tested.

"There's a cluster of defence satellites, forty dgrees by ten." She piped up. "would that count as a worthy target?"

He decided to ignore her facetious tone, it was after all her first mission. "Yes they would. We go in fast, one pass and then look for another target whether these are destroyed or not. If we come around for a second pass they will shoot us out of the sky."

Both fighters lined up on the defence stations, the dusty surface of Brakir quite close by now. Ari'shan could pick out individual cities and conurbations which would no doubt be the primary targets for the mass drivers rapidly setting up for a full strike. He didn't really have an opinion about there use, they were just tools used by the fleet to ease ground landings. No nation could deploy an army big enough to conquer an entire planetary population, so the Dilgar had come to the conclusion that if they couldn't increase the army sizes they had to decrease enemy population sizes. It was the simple logic of military strategy, nothing but numbers and ratios to the Dilgar, but for the Brakiri it was a question of existence. Ari'shan was one of the few who knew the truth about why this war was happening, and he appreciated the threat of extinction and the affect it had on fighting spirit.

The two fighters came under fire, the satellites were mass built and as a result were lacking the better versions of the Brakiri targeting scanners. Gravitic bolts sailed by briefly illuminating Ari'shan's cocpit with each passing trail. In return and and Eri'lor engaged, picking off weapons and exposed scanners to render the defence platforms harmless without wasting the effort needed to fully destroy them. Bright energy flared where the weapons hit home, shattering components and flinging shards of debris out from the hull. The Thoruns raced past at close range, tiny pieces of wreckahe pliking on their hulls as they did so, and performed a tight back flip. Ari'shan lost his vision for a few moments due to the G forces but was sure to keep his fighter evading on all axis's despite literally flying blind. They managed to neutralise all but one platform, which was better than he had expected, and then changed course again to look for new targets.

The brief lull in combat was now well and truly over and if anything the battle was even fiercer than it had been earlier. The Battlemasters ships were heavily engaged against the planetary defences and were sweeping through the satellite clouds and hasty minefields deployed by the defenders. Losses were mounting but the attack was proceeding quickly and Al'rosh had few qualms about sacrificing ships to maintain the pressure. The defences themselves were an eclectic mix of pre war satellites which offered the best defence, the more recently and hastily build emergency designs, and an assortment of salvaged scrap welded together and put into action out of pure desperation.

The squadrons rushed past the fruits of the Brakiri labour, one satellite was a cruiser which had been reduced to a quarter its size in the first attack and then restored by the Brakiri. It was little more than a cannon and a reactor on the remnants of a hull, but it seemed to work. Elsewhere Ari'shan identified single gun turrets with old shuttles welded to them to provide turning thrusters, weapons meant for warships which would now never be built clumped together on civilian stations and mining posts, he even spotted Dilgar bolter cannons captured by the Brakiri from wrecks and turned on their former owners. The Brakiri were inventive, he had to admit that, and they had fought well. They deserved to be remembered as good opponents for the Imperium and their defeat would be a worthy victory.

"We have ships entering range, Brakiri escorts." His companion reported.

"There will be fighters close behind." Ari'shan guessed. "Look alive, lets get some speed and prepare to attack."

Sure enough their sensors soon picked up Brakiri light craft swarming forward still in quite impressive numbers. They were heading in at full burn leaving the safty of the fleet and moving directly for the Dilgar cruisers, they didn't even bother to detach a wing or two to keep the Thoruns busy. They were completely focused on putting as much firepower as possible into the biggest threats to Brakir, the ships Ari'shan had been told to defend.

"So be it." He whispered, then started his music once more, closed his eyes for a moment to savour the opening notes, then drove headlong into the fray.

The Brakiri were not giving in. everywhere the sky danced and rippled with fire, lasers and pulses crossed in all directions like burning comets and rivers of light. Fighter burned silently across the void towards their targets, hitting the Dilgar cruisers with all they had. The Falkosi interceptors could do little more than scratch the paint on the Dilgar heavy ships, racing low over the hull and drawing fire so the heavier Pikitos strike craft could try for a better hit. It worked quite well on individual ships at first, though the losses were understandably heavy. However once the Dilgar fighters began engaging that all changed, the light Brakiri fighters were ignored and the Thoruns focused on the more threatening strike craft, taking them out before they had a chance to hurt the cruisers. In response the Falkosi's started swarming Dilgar squadrons and tried pushing them back or even ramming them out of the way, losses began mounting even faster as the ordered fighter units were split apart and engaged in little more than a high speed brawl.

For Ari'shan this was the reason he had wanted a transfer to the front, he was been tested to the top of his skills, weaving and dodging through a complete storm of Brakiri guns. He had to restrain himself from shouting out in enjoyment and excitement as he flipped and turned his fighter from dogfight to dogfight. Two Thoruns beside him were shredded by a squadrons worth of fire leaving little more than glitter in their place, the blast from their fuel cells wobbling his own fighter and embedding some wreckage on the surface of his wing. A Falkosi crossed his gun sights and with lightning reflexes he pulled his trigger and clipped the back quarter off the target of opportunity. It spun out of control and collided with a former defence platform with a brief flash.

"Keep alert!" Ari'shan warned. "Additional ships coming up from the planet."

"I see them." Eri'lor checked. "Fighters, they're weaker than the ones we're already engaging!"

"They must have broken them out of mothballs." One of the other squad mates butted in. "They mustn't have anything better to offer us."

"Doesn't matter." Ari'shan snapped. "They are offering battle and can hurt us, treat them as a worthy adversary and engage if they threaten us, but not at the expense of our mission."

The ancient Brakiri fighters were cut down in droves by the point defences on the warships, but they kept coming and moved into attack range. Ari'shan found a space between the waves of fighters to watch the attack, the older craft peppering cruisers and bombardment ships with their badly outdated guns to no effect, closing in on full burn. He guessed what they were doing before the first line of cruisers did, the fighters didn't even try to evade the fast approaching ships and one after the other collided with whichever target they had selected. They caused serious damage to vive ships, causing one of them to totally lose power and begin to drift planetward. Once again Ari'shan was surprised by the bravery of his opponents and saluted their resolve. He understood what they were fighting for.

A Brakiri cruiser rolled past his field of view spinning end over end leaving a long trail of sparkling wreckage behind it. Even though it was totally out of control it was still firing at whatever came into weapons arcs not willing to stop fighting even then. It was just one example among thousands, the Brakiri were fighting tooth and nail to stop the Dilgar but they couldn't. Massive blasts of energy raced between Ari'shan's squadron forcing them to spread out. The bolts were from the ground based guns highlighting how close they were, crossing through the atmosphere and hitting a dreadnought behind the squadron, reducing it to scrap in just five hits. They had the weapons to do damage, they just did not have enough of them left, and Ari'shan had to admit he felt a slight pang of regret as the bombardment ships finally achieved orbit and began arming.

Three Brakiri fighters looped over a _Targrathi_ class gunship hitting it with all they had, they were so focused they didn't even notice the flight of Thoruns racing in from the side which opened fire and killed them in seconds. An armed freighter pulled in front of one of the bombardment ships and tried to pick off the mass driver, but instead fell to an escorting destroyer. Rather than shunting the wreckage out of the way a group of shuttles moved forward to grapple it, they heavier parts would be just as effective as asteroids when used as ammunition. The irony of that was particularly dark. The bombardment ships were gathering in one place to share from the central store of ammunition been brought in by the replenisher sships and shuttles, this part of the battlefield was relatively quiet with the main forces engaging elsewhere. Alrosh had cleared most of the defence platforms in this sector and was now creating a barrier against the surviving Brakiri fleet elements, pinning them while Sha'dur's main strength whittled them down to nothing.

"Message on fleetwide." Eri'lor chirped in. "They're telling us to keep our distance, orbital bombardment is about to begin."

"Very well, pull back and be ready." Ari'shan ordered. "We'll watch their backs."

"And watch the show!" Eri'lor laughed. "This is going to be incredible!"

While he didn't share her enthusiasm Ari'shan was quite interested to see a full planetary bombardment, one of those events which would be etched on the minds and hearts of all those who saw it until their dying days. It was such a show of power, such un heard of destruction that he couldn't truly grasp how devastating it was going to be to the people below. Billions were about to be flash boiled into vapour by his comrades and not one of them had even an instants doubt about it. He chose to believe it was all down to their will, their determination to do their job whatever the consequences, and not to imagine they would take joy in reaping such destruction.

There were nine ships in total of a few different classes assigned to this mission, a small portion of the fleet but a third of that number would have been adequate to flatten this world with a week or so of continuous bombardment. As well as mass drivers the ships were armed with inertial bomb racks designed to drop warheads into orbit and let gravity pull them down, extremely innaccurate but so destructive it didn't really matter where they hit. The fleet was hauling a combination of radiological, biological and high yield nuclear warheads in their holds, weapons build to utterly destroy. Nobody wanted to capture Brakir, just to totally destroy all life and civilisation. As far as the Dilgar were concerned it was worthless.

Suddenly one of the bombardment ships exploded, a rapidly expanding ball of bright reds and a hint of green. When the light faded moments later there was hardly anything left, no clue that a ship and crew once occupied that part of the galaxy.

"Gods!" Eri'lor gasped.

"Ground batteries." Ari'shan offered a more pointed exclaimation. "They must have kept some guns hidden as an ambush." Despite himself he found a thin smile on his face, credit where credit was due.

"They won't get another shot." Dro'lin flying hunter sixteen added his voice to the chatter. "Cruisers are engaging."

In the same moment that the bombardment ship had exploded a pair of _Tratharti_ gunships had immediately broken out of standard formation and powered up their engines to full thrust diving on the planet. They coordinated their sensors and painted the local surface of the planet easily picking out the recently fired lance cannon below. The moved in with cold professionalism and opened their missile ports, locking on to the ground battery and launching a pair of Nuclear tipped weapons down to the defence site. In less than six seconds the Brakiri gambit had been turned into super heated gas and fallout, one more disaster and one more example of Dilgar military prowess.

"That's opened the way." Eri'lor remarked with anticipation.

"Time for the show to start." Relished Dro'lin. Ari'shan remained silently captivated.

The ancilliary shuttles nudged their selected asteroids into place in front of the bombardment cruisers which then slowly powered up their mass drivers, crackling blue energy arcing between the long rails and girders jutting from the structure. The rocks peacefully glided into the maw of the driver, getting caught in the Electro magnetic field employed by the device and developing a slight spin. Ari'shan kept his eyes on the nearest ship, watching as the asteroid began to course with the same blue energy of the driver before it reached the very heart of the weapon. Then, with a final flash of blue energy, it was hurled from the mass driver and rushed down towards Brakiri along with eight other charged asteroids.

He felt detached watching from the isolation of his fighter, not feeling part of the atack going on in the distance. As a loyal warrior he shouldn't have any thoughts beyond rejoicing at the superiority of his race, just like his squad mates were currently doing. He should be glad, the fleet was fulfilling its mission, but Ari'shan could only feel a sudden cold. He was a warrior, he lived for the fight, but this had gone beyond war. What the hell was he taking part in?

The accelerated rocks caught the edge of the atmosphere and slowed somewhat, thick trails of black smoke streamed out behind them as the burned with atmospheric friction, great charcoal scars slashing the sky above the pale desert world. There was nothing the Brakiri could do to stop them, the defences had been shattered and now the final act was beginning. A few tiny fighters paid the ultimate price to deflect the projectiles, hoping the impact of their ancient jets would destroy the rocks and through some miracle save the targets. It was futile, and they probably knew it, but it was all they could do and Ari'shan wished them luck.

It was of course useless, the rocks atomised the fighters without so much as a tiny alteration of course and dropped down to their main targets, two cities and a major water reclaimation facility. The black trails stopped like giant's arrows jutting out of the heart of the cities for a fraction of a second before the blast wave from the impacts scattered them into wisps. Vast clouds of smoke and dust rose up extending quickly into the sky clearly visible even from Hunter squadrons high orbit, rings of fire and sand extending out from the base of each impact covering the dark cities in white and orange haze. It was a truly awesome sight, an instant of pure terror which they would never be able to go back from, the lives lost could not be returned, this was what his people were giving as their contribution to the galaxy.

As the mass drivers were reloaded the strike ships fired their other weapons, the unguided bombs from belly rack. Dark spheres slowly fell like tears from the fleet and began their descent carrying their unthinkable cargoes to the people below, the latest and vilest creations from Jha'dur's eternally improving knowledge of microscopic death and pain. Nothing rose to stop them, no guns remained, no ships or satellites, no fighters. The last of the Brakiri navy was on the brink of extermination and its civilization had entered what seemed its final days, a time of fire, heat and dust. The hell they had fought so well to prevent.

Ari'shan was curious to see a proximity alert on his main sensor suite. He doubled checked it, whatever it was it didn't have a transponder and it was big. Very big.

"Hunter fourteen," he opened a channel. "Check target at eighty by two hundred. Visually identify."

"I have one destroyer stationary off our flank." The pilot reported.

"That isn't it, the target is moving. Check again."

"Executing pivot, perhaps its…"

The answer never made it, a tremendous flash blinded Ari'shan penetrating the supposedly adequate canopy opacity. It took him a few seconds to regain his vision and for that time he could only hear a speakerful of panicked and shocked voices as his rookie squadron fell apart around him. He blinked and swore, making sure his fighter was moving in evasive patterns almost from habit. His vision returned, though at first just in shades of red as if he were looking at a galaxy painted in blood, an apt description for the scene around him.

The _Ochlavita_ class destroyer which had been watching the flank of the bombardment force with Hunter squadron was wrecked, its engine section careering madly away towards the planet. However of much greater and more immediate concern was the bow section of the ship which was heading straight for his squadron at impossible speed.

"Holy…" he let slip through his evaporating calm. "Break! Break! Break!" he screamed. "Get out of here, full afterburners! Go!"

The tumbling hulk slammed into the two closest Thoruns before they had a clue what was happening, with Hunter fourteen and thirteen colliding with each other in confusion before being similarly destroyed by the friendly warship. Ari'shan threw his own ship hard to the left and performed a side spin. He was too close to get out of the way even with full afterburn so he had to try something else, a snap decision based on what he knew and what he hoped.

The hull was turning as it streaked towards him flung there by whatever had killed it, its entire rear section a ball of glowing light. With as much skill as he could muster he activated his manouevring thrusters and tried to match the pitch and yaw of the ship wreck, ignoring his screeching sensors and gauging the angles by eye only. The ship closed quickly and with a snap twist that threatened to black him out he tucked in under its shattered form and rolled with it, a thousand feet of dark green metal passing over his cockpit within touching distance. He was breathing hard forcing his heart to keep pumping and never taking his eyes off the destroyer.

Finally the iron tomb passed by and the now familiar vista of Brakir returned to his view, its surface sporting more great clouds where the bombardment had struck.

Ari'shan's throat was dry from the intense breathing and his vision was still blood shot from the flash. He was incredibly lucky to be alive, and he was happy to curse himself for demanding that he should face any challenge the galaxy could throw at him to prove himself. This had been one hell of a test, but he had survived it through the natural reflexes and abilities he had so much wanted to show to everyone.

"Hunters check in!" He ordered as his training kicked in. Check his own craft, then check the squadron, then check the objective before executing his standing orders. Something had just hit them hard and needed to be dealt with.

"Hunter ten check." Eri'lor said shakily, she had been far enough away to get clear with a burst of maximum engine power.

"Hunter sixteen check." Dro'lin confirmed.

Three more also called in and that was it, Hunter squadron had lost half it's strength in a few seconds.

"Did anyone see what happened?" Ari'shan demanded. "My sensors show nothing."

"I saw it." Eri'lor spoke with a small voice. "A Brakiri ship, over there."

"Hunter ten, get it together." Ari'shan began to try and tighten up his shaken comrades. "Give me a standard bearing and distance."

"Fourteen by eighty." She read off in an emotionless and seemingly exhausted tone. "Four hundred miles and receeding."

"Understood." Ari'shan flung his ships nose about to the heading and searched, and it didn't take long to see the enemy target. As a Dilgar pilot he felt a tinge of anger and despair, but as a Warrior he was overjoyed. His screen showed the _Corumai_ proceeding at full speed towards the Bombardment ships with all guns blazing, it was a magnificent display. Ari'shan was Dilgar and wanted to see the ship destroyed of course, but he was foremost a warrior and recognized the Brakiri crew as fellow warriors, and that part of him hoped they earned a honourable end worthy of praise.

"Orders sir?" Dro'lin asked with expectation.

"Form up." Ari'shan ordered. "We will do our duty and follow our orders. Brakiri fighters are following the Dreadnought, set course to intercept."

Half a squadron couldn't hurt the Brakiri flagship, but they still had their part to play. With extremely mixed and unsure feelings Flight Officer Ari'shan took his remnant forces into the chaos once again.

_Corumai_

"We got him!" Officer Remik punched the air. "Clean kill."

"I'm not reading any more escorts," Commander Rolan added. "We have a clear run to the Bombardment group."

Finally the Brakiri flagship had come into its own, it seemed to be operating at more or less full efficiency and despite the heavy damage it had taken in this battle it still had its teeth, and the formidable weapons package had proven itself easily capable of destroying enemy ships in a single volley exactly as the designers had hoped. Unfortunately there were too many Dilgar warships even for this mighty ship, sooner or later they would be dragged down by simple numbers but not before they denied the Dilgar their victory. It all hinged on those eight remaining bombardment ships, for all the hundreds of vessels Warmaster Sha'dur operated only those eight had the power to devastate Brakir, without them the ground based weapons and fighters could hold off the conventional ships and stop them before their laser and particle weapons could do any serious damage.

"Lock weapons." Admiral Dokan ordered. "We'll take out the driver ships and then take up defensive positions above the capital city."

"Aye sir, setting up course to pass ahead of the enemy squadron." Rolan worked fast, like the rest of the crew he was acutely aware that time was working against them. "We'll sweep by and be ready to fire as our guns bear on target."

"Sensors show radiological elements on those ships." Remik said with a grimace. "They're packed with nukes, probably a lot of biological and…"

Dokan waited for the rest of the report for a moment. "Officer, what is it?"

"Admiral sir," Remik croaked. "The bombardment has already begun, Brakir sir."

"Show me." Dokan said weakly, not knowing how he should respond. As a man he was terrified, but as an Admiral of the fleet he had to try and seem unaffected and not appear like his insides were falling through the floor.

The bridges main screen flickered into life, the image was grainy and streaked with static betraying it's faults and problems like so much else on the Dreadnought, but the image it showed was still clear enough to rob the warmth from anyone who saw it. Thick puffs of white and black clouds were rising up from the surface of the planet, tiny looking from orbit but dozens of miles wide and still growing. There were eight giant clouds which analysis showed to be caused by mass drivers, and about three times as many smaller mushroom clouds resulting from high megaton yield nuclear explosions. Even worse were the falling objects still in the air on a shallow descent to the surface, they were trailing a horrific cocktail of chemicals and biological agents through the atmosphere drizzling a soft and lethal rain on any populations caught below. They had been too late.

"Detonations confirmed at Lemat, Selarit and Koskor." Rolan said with a lump in his throat, barely able to force out the words. "Nuclear detonations at orbital defence facilities, and army head quarter facilities. The water processing facility at Mer-Fakal has also been completely destroyed."

"Gods." A whisper came from someone on the bridge, the only response to Rolan's report. All eyes remained fixed on the screen, their thoughts dwelling on the same terrible thought. Those cities had millions of people in them, the Brakiri were a highly social race and their hostile world forced them to live together in vast and densely populated locations, even a minor orbital strike would have been devastating, but multiple nuclear and mass driver hits would have levelled everything for miles around. The worst part was anyone who survived, anyone wandering dazed and confused through the dust and fire would find themselves exposed to the virus's and biological agents sowed from orbit. It was both heartbreaking and steeling, they couldn't do anything for the current victims but by all that was holy they were going to make sure it did not happen again.

"Admiral, we're moving into range." Rolan announced, his hands were shaking and he had to hold them beneath the console in the hopes nobody noticed before he regained control. The sight displayed before him didn't look real, it had no sound and no feeling to connect it to the visceral emotions he had been expecting. If anything it looked like one of those old movies retrieved from the radio signals his people intercepted and decoded from Earth, just a form of entertainment taken too far. It wasn't real, his mind just couldn'r grasp that this had actually come to happen.

"Concentrate fire on each ship in turn." Dokan ordered flatly. "Destroy them completely."

The crew took to the task with grim determination, they had failed to prevent the attack but they could make sure it stopped right now before more innocents perished. The ship was already at full thrust and was well in the clear, some Dilgar forces had broken away from the main fleet to intercept but they were too far away to stop the _Corumai_, Sha'dur hadn't banked on anything escaping his trap. Sadly it had cost the flagship two escorts to break through the cordon, but with bombardment ships sighted it was the oly option Dokan could take short of abandoning Brakir to destruction, and while the loss was tragic it was just a small part of this days sorrow.

"We're locked on the closest ship." Remik announced.

"Open fire." Snarled Dokan, a deep rage filling his soul. These murdering bastards had tried to destroy his civilization and he would make them pay. The gravity lurched a little as the ship made a quick course correction designed to open up its best firing arcs, then shuddered as its lance cannons engaged.

The _Corumai_ angled gracefully in space with more finesse than such a large and plagued ship should have been capable off, it's tall fins catching the light of the distant sun as it passed in front of the Dilgar bombardment line placing itself between the planet and their weapons. The first ship didn't stand a chance, taking a full broadside from the Dreadnought its bow vanished in a plume of flame, the engine section hurtling backwards as if yanked by a giant rope. The blocky _Athraskala_ class ships had been built for the singular purpose of bombing enemy worlds and were heavily armed for that purpose and little else, some even sported extensive scientific labs for mobile experiments carried out by Jha'dur's staff. These ships were rightly feared and loathed as symbols of the Dilgar depravity and spelt doom to defenceless world, but against even moderate resistance the _Athraskala's_ were target practice. They had no anti ship weapons, fairly poor construction and only scarce protection agains fighters. In a straight fight they died quickly and against a ship as powerful as the _Corumai_ it was a foregone conclusion.

"Enemy destroyed!" Rolan felt elated, they were beating the Dilgar at their own game. For so long the Dilgar had prided themselves on been the predators among the flocks, but now it was a Brakiri warship destroying a flock of weakly defended ships. The big difference was these ships weren't carrying refugees but weapons designed to kill billions, and their destruction was entirely justified and very appropriate. "Next ship coming into range."

"Fire as you bear!" Dokan yelled. "Take them out of our home's sky!"

Another _Athraskala_ ceased to exist, cut in two by a close ranged volley. It managed to launch a nuclear device in the vain hope of impacting the speeding dreadnought but point defences expertly shot it out of the sky before it could impact. The _Corumai_ raced on, passing through a white cloud of gas and glittering debris while its weapons rearmed. With two ships down there were six now left, one of them was deploying its arsenal against Brakir desperately trying to unload as much damage as possible before it was destroyed, but none of the ships had yet managed to reload there mass drivers. The _Corumai_ still had time.

Rolan's screen suddenly beeped unexpectedly drawing his attention down. It showed an urgent threat warning, an enemy vessel was locking on. "Admiral, we have incoming!"

"Source?" Dokan demanded.

Rolan cursed as the sensors finally reveald the enemy ship. "Dammit, Dilgar Gunship dead ahead, she's firing!"

The _Athraskala_ was the main Dilgar bombardment ship, but it was not the only one. Far more capable was the _Tratharti_ class gunship, an expensive and capable cruiser design. The _Tratharti_ was the heavy cruiser of the Dilgar navy designed to take the missions not important enough for a dreadnought, they were fast, powerful, very well armed and as an added touch equipped with a mass driver. The ships were in very high demand by fleet commanders and most of them found their way into Jha'dur's strike fleets and assigned to her best subordinates, the handful which had been sent to the Brakiri front had been priority targets in the first battle and suffered unusually heavy losses leaving just two examples operational, both of whom were now concentrating on the _Corumai_.

"All hands brace!" Dokan called, then grabbed his chair as the dreadnought jolted six times in quick succession. "Where are the bombers?"

"We're just passing one!" Rolan called back.

"Then shoot it down!"

The gunship fired again punching holes in the _Corumai's_ armour but barely affecting the massive ship. Dokan's vessel fired its own batteries, taking out two more of the lightly armed _Athraskala's_ in a bright show of light. Point defenses managed to stop a row of biological warheads before they hit the almosphere and neatly pierced the reactor of the bomber which had been randomly dropping them, annihilating it in one brief impact.

"Nice work guns, that was a solid kill." Dokan congratulated.

"Thank you sir, we have twenty seconds to recharge." The weapons officer replied.

"That's a problem." Rolan shouted, "That gunship is closing range, it's going to hit us hard."

He was right, the Dilgar ship was getting closer hoping to hit the flagship with a devastating close range volley. With all the damage they had taken and the fact that a lot of systems were jury rigged and quite fragile there was a chance it could cripple his warship and once again open up Brakir to bombardment.

"Any chance on charging faster?"

"I'm already redlining them sir." The Weapons officer replied.

"Then we have no choice, Mr Remik, set collision course."

"Aye sir." Much to Rolan's surprise his comrade accepted the order at once. "Course locked, I'm taking manual control."

The two warships were fast closing on each other almost head to head, the Dilgar captain expecting to pass by the ships damaged flank hitting it hard as he did so. However Remik nudged the _Corumai's_ damaged bow to the side so it ended up directly facing the incoming _Tratharti. _The Dilgar ship fired and immediately performed a sharp turn, it's Captain smart enough to know his chances of surviving a game of chicken with a dreadnought were not good. Its engines burned fiercely stabbing blue spikes out into space as the slewed around trying to force the gunship out of the way. It pushed against Brakir's gravity and began to climb away but it wasn't going to be fast enough. Remik made a final course correction and aimed for the weakest part of the enemy ship, where the engineering section joined onto the main hull.

"Sound collision alert!" Dokan ordered. "Fasten your seatbelts, this is going to be bad!"

Rolan reached for his seatbelt only to find plain metal stubs where the fabric restraints should be, just one more defect in the ships design. He sighed, braced his legs against the console in front of him and grabbed hold of the chair for dear life.

The _Corumai_ sped into the Dilgar ship, a silent mass of green armour crashing together with a ship less than half its mass and forcing it onto a new course. The gunship was latched to the front of the dreadnought like a bug on a car windscreen being carried along by the immense momentum and inertia of the great ship, one second it had been slowly moving one way, then snatched away to the side under the impact. The Dilgar engines flamed out as reactor links went critical and shut down, hull seams split open and began venting air and internal components, even occasional crew. The _Corumai_ itself had its bow twisted out of shape but any vital systems there where either broken or destroyed in the previous battle.

The moment of impact was worse than Rolan expected, he was flung forward and hit the console hard breaking his nose and dropping thick drops of blood on the controls before him. The station itself was alright, a miracle of resilient Brakiri engineering, but his face was agony. The bridge lights immediately went out leaving just the dim glow of sensor stations and a few portable lights fed by their own internal generators left by the engineers in lieu of true emergency lighting. Rolan's eyes were filled with water not from pain but from the simple after effects of his broken nose. Every blink brought him fresh pain and moving any part of his face was enough to moisten his vision again. But on the plus side he wasn't dead.

"Two left!" Remik pointed on tactical, it showed a single _Athraskala_ and one of the more dangerous _Tratharti's_ lining up for a new strike. The gunship was quickly redirecting power from its mass driver to its conventional weapons to take on the Dreadnought, but the smaller ship was powering up to fire a fully prepared asteroid down on the Brakiri capital itself.

"She's ready to fire sir!" the weapons officer yelled in the darkness. "Main guns locked!"

"Take that bomber down right the hell now!" Dokan roared, only the seatbelt keeping him in his chair.

The ships main weapons spoke again, impaling the enemy vessel and ripping it to pieces, its shell peeling away as destructive energies reduced it to a burst of light and radiation. But not soon enough.

"She fired!" Rolan shouted in horror. "We've got a rock incoming!"

Dokan could see the disaster already, the capital city in ruins, the leadership dead, millions of casualties lost in a sudden fireball and shockwave. "Can we shoot it down?"

"No sir, main weapons recharging!" the assigned officer said equally frightened, they were all trapped unable to do anything this atrocity.

"Engines, I want full power." Dokan said evenly.

"Admiral, that will delay our weapon recharge rates, we won't…" Rolan began slapping his hands on the console in frustration, the ship's reactor was still far too weak for a vessel of this size.

"Full power to engines!" Dokan repeated louder. "We're going to stop that rock the hard way." He took a long breath. "Put us between the incoming projectile and the city, quickly."

The _Athraskala_ had been destroyed before it had fully charged its drier, so the Captain launched with what power it had the moment the _Corumai's_ main guns struck home, the final fulfilment of his duty of perhaps a last act of spite. The rock was moving slower than normal but once it was fully caught in the planets gravity it would speed up and gather enough kinetic energy to leave a mile wide crater where the capital used to be. The _Corumai_ in its low and fast orbit was the only thing that could prevent that, but in so doing was probably condemning itself.

As the ship accelerated the Dilgar gunship pressed into its bow shook and vibrated, shedding yet more armour and structure. It's crew were working like hell to try and free themselves but to no effect and the acceleration was increasing the stress and buckling the ships supports. With a screeching tear the rear of the ship folded away, ripping itself apart as the mass of the _Corumai_ exerted more and more pressure on it. The connections split and armour tore splitting the ship in two with a long burst of atmosphere and plasma. The engine block fell away, clipping the _Corumai's_ flank with a glancing hit and leaving a huge dent in its side which caused no concerns for it's crew. The front half of the Dilgar gunship remained attached, its hull twisted and intertwined too closely with the Brakiri vessels bow. Long wires and cables streamed out from the severed portions of hull as the ruined gunship lost the ability to do anything to free itself and left the crew with just emergency power carried at the whim of the _Corumai's_ commander.

"This is going to be close." Remik warned.

"We can do it." Dokan urged them on. "We can do this for homeworld, even if it's the last thing we do, we can do this."

Rolan patted his chair, the ship was shuddering and the normally relaxing ambient rumble of the engines was almost deafeningly loaud. "Come on girl," he whispered. "Just a little more."

Everything on the bridge was bouncing, and on the viewscreen they could still see the distant gunship at the edge of the bombardment fleet now arming regular weapons. Rolan wanted it destroyed but this was moe vital, he'd have to hope another ship could finish the job. It was the last ship standing, and that was amazing enough considering the odds.

"This is it!" Remik called. "We made it, we're going to hit!"

"Well done, you have served your world proud." Admiral Dokan said sincerely. "Perhaps this ship was worth all the money we paid for it after all."

The falling asteroid hit the _Corumai_ on its aft section where the great sail like fins met the main hull, the impact was almost in slow motion, a majestic twisting collision which passed through the ships side structire like a brick through a bag of confetti scattering flittering shards of debris out around it. The effect was like a hammer hitting a steel tube, the ship bent almost completely in two so the bow of the ship and its unwilling Dilgar passengers were almost touching the tail. On the side where the asteroid hit the metal folded and crumpled around it almost like a baseball glove, while the far side split apart in a fireball as metal peeled back or fell away, openining kike long petals of shreds of torn paper. The ship had been moving fast enough that it's momentum proved superior to the asteroids and the mangled wrecks of Brakir dreadnought, Dilgar gunship and asteroid were angled enough to hit the atmosherre at a shallow angle and burn up rather than plunge through to the city.

Inside the ship was finished, the bridge had sealed itself off when the asteroid impacted and just in time, the corridors leading to the compartment were ruptured and opened up to space. The fact the bridge was buried deep in the hull was evidence enough on how badly the hull was compromised. Fires burned out of control consuming the entire left side of the large room, gravity had failed and the flames licked and spun crazily through the rapidly depleting air.

Rolan found himself weightless, floating without a sound in absolute blackness and for a long moment he couldn't tell if this was some sort of transition between life and death or an odd dream like state his body had retreated into. The reality quickly returned as his skin began to heat up, opening his eyes he saw the fires burning nearby and quickly tried to propel himself forward, slowly and painfully progressing to a side station.

"Anyone still with me?" he croaked. There was no answer. "Anyone?"

"Rolan?" a male voice coughed.

"Remik!" he exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"I don't think so." He said lightly. "These cheap bolts they used to fasten my chair down broke." He coughed a little. "It really hurts."

"I can help, is there a medical kit?"

In the distance Remik gasped, and after getting his bearings Rolan pulled himself along the walls and shattered stations to his friend, passing two dead crew on the way. His fellow officer was indeed in bad shape, pinned up against his console with the chair and a tangle of debris behind him holding him sold. It was going to take a full work team more than an hourto get him out of that, time they didn't have.

"Well we caught the asteroid." Rolan said with false cheerfulness. "We did it."

"Yeah, like that game we picked up from the humans, where the hit a ball then catch it." Remik chuckled. "Damn that's dumb."

"Let me check around, see if I can pry you out of this mess you've gotten into."

"Come on Rolan, don't be a fool." He snapped. "We're minutes away from hitting the atmosphere, get out of here!"

"We got on this death trap together and we're getting off together."

"No we aren't." Remik said in a tone which cut off any arguing. "Even if you got me out of this chair, I don't think I'd get far." He raised a hand to show it was covered in blood. "So why don't you just get lost and leave me in peace?"

There was a beep from the console, a proximity alarm that was still working on the smashed bridge.

"What is that?" Rolan asked.

Remik tapped his controls, wincing and letting out a slight gasp of pain. "A ship." He reported. "Very close by."

"A rescue ship?" Rolan felt his spirits rise a little.

"No, that Dilgar cruiser that was about to hit us." Remik stated. "Probably checking out their friends stuck to our nose."

Rolan suddenly felt a wave of anger, that Dilgar ship was still a threat to homeworld. "Do we have any weapons?"

"Weapons? Look around you!" Remik laughed, wincing in pain as he did. "We've got nothing. Engines, weapons, even life support won't last for long."

Rolan cast his eyes down, this ship had never been perfect to start with, none of it's crews could really claim perfection either, but they had both come through in the end, they had both beaten their faults and fought like heroes to keep Brakir safe. And like the very best of heroes this ship had one last gambit to play before they finally embraced the dark.

"Remik, stay with me for a little longer." He held onto his friend's chair. "The retro thrusters, are they still linked up?"

"The retros?" he grimaced. "Yeah, but the reactor's dead, we've got no power." He took a second look at the control panel. "Plus that wrecked Dilgar ship is blocking the emergency vents."

"Exactly." Rolan grinned. "I'm going to try and power up the reactor, I want you to be ready to engage thrusters."

"The reactor's shot to pieces, coolant systems are half way to the surface by now." Remik was fighting hard to stay conscious. "It'll blow after a few seconds."

"Then we better time it right." The Commander replied. "We're almost finished, we can both see that, so lets do one last job before we go."

"You can take a pod." Remik pointed out again.

"There's a Dilgar gunship off our bow, if I try and escape it'll shoot me down before I get a mile away. I'd rather be doing something useful when the Deathwalker shows up, the real Deathwalker I mean, not that Dilgar wannabe."

"So we power up the reactor," Remik coughed, the fires on the bridge were growing. "But we'll explode before the weapons can arm, and the fire control station is wrecked."

"We're going to show that Dilgar warship outside that they aren't the only ones with a little mass to drive." Rolan grinned despite the appalling situation. "The Admiral never stopped fighting, and neither shall we." Admiral Dokan was nowhere to be seen on the bridge, his central chair was gone, replaced by a clutter of support beams and sparking wires. "Let's do this for the _Corumai_, give her the send off she deserves."

The Dilgar _Tratharti_ had come to a relative stop in front of the dreadnought, the tangled warship was slowly losing orbit and in a few minutes would hit the atmosphere and begin burning up. The Dilgar Captain was interested in seeing if there were any survivors in his fellow gunship, the forward half of which was still attached to the _Corumai_ despite the massive damage the Brakiri vessel had taken. He was also having his gunnery officers prepare to blast the wreck of course in an attempt to drop the millions of tons of armoured metal down onto a nice target of opportunity such as a city or major defensive installation. Elsewhere the battle was winding down as the Dilgar navy finished off the Brakiri fleet and turned its attention to the satellite defences and ground batteries, taking out the threats to the bombardment ships.

Remik was in incredible pain, there were no medical kits on the bridge and his adrenalin was wearing off allowing his nerves to transmit the pain he felt through his body. "That bastard is right on top of us."

"Alright." Rolan said calmly, he had accepted this fate before the _Corumai_ had even launched, but now he had finally understood it. Death wasn't the end for him, and it wasn't the end for his people, but he wanted to make sure that the Brakiri died a natural death and not at the hands of the Dilgar. His people had a place in the galaxy and the Dilgar wanted to deprive them of it, which was unacceptable. The Brakiri believed everything had a price, and the Dilgar hadn't come even close to paying what it would take to kill his world. "Open the fuel valves, initiate reactor sequence."

The engine room was open to space, its crew lost in the same instant the asteroid was intercepted along with the bulk of the engineering systems. All the main links and fuel lines were severed, but by fate's fickle hand the _Corumai's_ poor state had meant that the reactor had been heavily bypassed with secondary lines and conduits and these extra components, which shouldn't have been on the ship if it had worked first time were still intact. Fuel jetted into the reaction chamber, leaking through numerous cracks in its side and billowing out into space. The fusion based reactor was meant to be a controlled chain reaction held in place by magnetic fields and cooled from out side, unfortunately the coolant system was gone and once the reaction initialised it would be mere seconds before the heat of the reaction melted the reactor, destroyed the magnetic field generators and turned into a giant fusion bomb. Hopefully it would be big enough to shatter the dreadnought into tiny pieces vastly reducing the impact of the wreck as it fell from orbit.

"Fuel is flowing." Remik reported through gritted teeth. "Ready to initialise."

"Stand by." Rolan ordered and readied the retro thrusters. Like most Brakiri ships the _Corumai_ relied on gravitic propulsion it move it through space, it was an efficient technology though still primitive compared to races like the Vree. On the dreadnought the systems had been found wanting and as an emergency measure the warship had been fitted with old fashioned Ion thrusters to be used in case the gravitics failed (which they often did in tests) to bring the ship to a safe halt. Rolan now opened the thrust channels and conduits on the two bow thrusters and held his hand over the activation button.

"I know you never wanted to be here." He whispered to the ruined ship. "And I know you're hurting. But this is going to be over soon. You're the flagship of our people, the living spirit of Brakir. You were our voice roaring in anger and our sword cleaving those who want to kill us. They laughed at all of us, the navy was embarrassed by the failures and problems, but we've showed them different." He smiled. "Today we showed them how a real ship and a real crew fights, and for as long as Brakir lives no one will forget our names. So lets do this one more thing and make sure someone is left at home to remember all of us. Then we can rest, and return to the quiet."

The Dilgar cruiser swung its forward guns into position, ready to deliver the final coup de grace. Rolan shook his head at it, no Dilgar ship was going to finish the _Corumai_, she died when she chose, not when the Dilgar demanded.

"Ready old friend?" he called over the Remik, the crackling flames covering almost the whole bridge now, the last of the air quickly filling with smoke.

"Ready." He answered. "I'm getting tired of looking at that Dilgar ship anyway, let's do something about it."

Rolan nodded, incredibly he felt totally at peace, and even excited. The Dilgar were going to get a big surprise, and he was sorry he wouldn't be able to see their Warmasters reaction. "Initialise main reactor, let's make a finish nobody will forget."

"Beginning emergency start up." Remik said, he was getting groggy but this one last task wasn't hard. "Reactor coming on line, this is it."

Rolan saw the thruster's power readings go green, then yellow, and then red as they built up an overload surge. The ship rumbled with distant explosions as the reactor began to fall apart and intensely hot plasma was jetted from the ship. The great vessel was tearing itself apart, but she managed to hold on just long enough for Rolan to finish his plan.

"Thanks old girl." He smiled, then flipped the last switch.

The retro thrusters exploded into life with a massive dump of fuel overloading their systems and blasting out their concealed panels and a clutter of debris. The thrusters ports were blocked mainly by the wrecked gunship crumpled into the forward hull and virtually the full power of the engines hit the broken Dilgar hull. It held for a second, and then in a scream of shearing metal the ruin was thrown off the front of the _Corumai_, the noble green hull disappearing in a storm of fire behind it. The wrecked gunship was propelled with surprising force, a parody of the Dilgar mass drivers with just as little finesse as a falling rock and just as much power.

The Captain of the last Dilgar warship in Brakiri orbit didn't even have time to order evasive action, his widening eyes filled with the image of the tumbling wreck of his comrade hurtling his way before there was nothing but brightness and then cold dark. The ruined ship took the _Tratharti_ head on smashing it's relatively light hull and crushing it beyond recognition. The two ships spun a full three hundred degrees before finally the _Corumai_ detonated with the force of thousands of nuclear weapons, immolating itself and the nearby Dilgar cruiser in a bright pillar of fire.

_Conqueror_

Warmaster Sha'dur kept a straight face, but he had run out of options.

"Sir," Evenil raised her voice. "There are barely a handful of Brakiri ships left, their defence grid is broken, they are in complete disarray!"

"I am aware of that Captain." He answered flatly.

"Warmaster, we've won!" she tried to convince him. "You have secured victory."

"We both know that isn't entirely true." He fixed her with an even stare. "We lost our bombardment ships."

"Yes sir, but…"

"Without them we can't inflict enough damage to pacify Brakir, all our fighting in orbit has proven futile. If we cannot destroy their population centres enmasse then there is nothing else we can do here."

"A massed fleet bombardment…" Evenil began.

"Would eventually do the job." Sha'dur agreed. "But not for weeks, and not efficiently. This fleet is needed for the campaign and we are already behind schedule. We can't spare the time to bomb Brakir with conventional weapons."

"Can we call more mass driver ships sir?"

"Not in time." Sha'dur sighed. "We almost did it, almost."

"We're giving up sir?" Evenil asked weakly. "After all this we're going to leave?"

The Warmaste nodded. "We can't finish the mission, anything else is just a waste of resources. We'll blockade the planet and let thirst and starvation destroy the Brakiri." He smiled thinly. "It'll just take more time. Issue the recall orders, this battle is over."

"Yes sir." Evenil said with a heavy heart. "Ordering all ships, break off and return to starting positions."

From his cockpit Ari'shan saw it all in wonder, the _Corumai's_ final moments had been the epitome of the warrior's code and despite the propaganda he knew it's crew had not been vermin deserving of extinction, but true hearted soldiers.

"Sir, orders from the fleet." Eri'lor said, her voice betraying her captivation and horror at the sight. "It's a general withdrawal, we are to return to our rally point."

"Acknowledge transmission, then fall back in pairs. Remember to watch for enemies, this is still a battle." He ordered, never once taking his eyes off the falling dreadnought.

He offered the dying ship a salute and etched the scene into his soul as a testament to the true glory of war.

"By the gods, that ship did war proud."


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 36

EIA headquarters

Geneva, Earth.

"Been a spy seemed like a pretty good job." Jenny Sakai remarked as she trod through the beige and calming corridors on the top floor of the building. "Undercover work, action, adventure, saving the world from attack, oh and real good money."

Beside her Francis O'Leary trotted along, she had just got back from Mars and was brighter than when she left. Presumably her mission had gone well. Francis had seen on the news a group of Belt Alliance ships returning full of holes, officially they were hit by a powerful Raider force but he thought there was more to it, and it was no coincidence the EIA had an agent there to greet the ships.

"But here's what they don't tell you." Jenny continued, she was complaining but in an amused way betraying her joy. "Paper work, and also meetings."

"Well you're right about that." Francis agreed. "I don't seem to do anything else."

She looked over to him as they walked. "So you've settled in okay?"

"Yeah, just fine." Francis answered truthfully. "The people here are good, little weird in places…"

Jenny gave a high tinkling laugh. "So you met Arnold? Yeah he's been running counter intelligence for a long time. He get's a little eccentric sometimes."

"Well at least he hasn't tried to kill me, or kiss me." Francis joked. "I don't know which would be worse!"

They arrived at the dark wood double doors of the main meeting room and halted outside.

"So who called this meeting?" Jenny asked.

"Well actually, I did." Francis said.

"What? Really?" Jenny gave him an inquisitive look. "You've been here a month and you've got me and two department heads at your call?"

"No, no. I… well I mean…"

"Relax, I'm just playing with you." Jenny smiled. "I'm impressed, really."

Francis sighed. "This is one of the hardest things I've ever done. Talking in front of these guys, making a presentation?"

"You're going to do great, just keep to your facts and use your notes." Jenny advised. "Answer truthfully and if you don't know something just tell them, your not expected to be a genius. Well not after one month." she grabbed his arm. "Take a breath, then let's go for it."

He nodded, took some strength from Jenny's confidence in him, then opened the door.

Francis set himself up at the head of the table with the large video screen set up behind him fixed into the wall. The room was large and darkened so it's occupants could better see the screen and Francis's presentations. The long table dominating the room could seat twenty, but today only was occupied by Jenny, Agent Leung and Agent Chapel.

"Is this to do with the project we've all been working on Agent O'Leary?" Leung asked.

"Yes sir, I think so. In a round about way."

Leung shot a glance at Chapel who returned it with a shrug. As department heads they had been given the task of solving a problem for the NYPD, the apparent identity theft of a man found dead in Los Angeles. Such an act was clearly not normal and whoever did it was certainly using the identity for nefarious purposes, but the real catch was how in a secure society like the modern Earth Alliance he had got away with it crossing through at least a dozen security measures. While the crime itself was a local matter, the security concerns had brought in the EIA.

"In your own time Francis." Chapel said evenly. "This is your first brief?"

"Yes sir." He replied as he searched for the right data crystal.

"Take your time, just make sure you cover everything." He poured a glass of water while Francis set up.

The young man finally retrieved the right crystal. "Ah, right here it is." He dropped it in the table slot and activated the briefing screen. "Alright, we all ready to begin?"

He got indulgent looks from the room, and a wink of encouragement from Jenny's dark eyes.

"Alright, so we were told to look at security records from New York to try and find this suspect who had taken the LA guys identity?"

"That is correct." Leung agreed, he was head of Francis's department and was taking careful notes on his new staff member.

"But I started wondering if maybe there was another way to track him, I mean if he can fake some guy's identity so well perhaps he can do it again, and again, always changing like a Chaemelion?"

The word 'Chaemelion' caught Jenny's attention.

"He could be anyone, anywhere." Chapel agreed. "But the time we track one identity he's already changed it."

"Exactly, so perhaps there was an anomaly we could pinpoint which linked in." Francis said. "I was thinking about why he wanted a new identity to begin with."

"Criminal purposes." Leung stated.

"Yes, but what sort." Added Jenny. "Why change your entire identity, why swap lives?"

"Exactly." Francis smiled at the female agent. "So I checked to see if their were any really odd crimes, but nothing showed up. So instead I checked for any problems that mind not have been found, like computerised banking or fraud attempts." Francis shuffled his notes. "I mean an identity is more than a face, it's bank accounts, social insurance numbers, driving license, passports. To really get away with it the guy would have to go in and enter fraudulent records on the Earth government net."

"Nice bit of lateral thinking." Chapel congratulated. "What did you find?"

"Well actually sir, nothing." Francis cast his eyes down.

"Yeah, but kudos for thinking of it in the first place." Jenny pointed out.

"But that's when I made the big break through." He looked up. "We've got a spy in New York."

Chapel was quiet, his mood turning extremely serious. "You have proof?"

"Yes sir." He changed the crystal so his display screen showed Earth and a series of coloured lines emanating from it, some bouncing off representations of satellites, some heading away from the picture. "When I was checking the New York city records for evidence of tampering suddenly the connection failed."

"That was two days ago right?" Leung chipped in. "There was a major server shut down then, the whole New York, Washington and Boston grid crashed for an hour."

"That's right." Francis said. "It was blamed on overloading, but I didn't buy that."

"What do you mean you didn't buy it?" Leung frowned. "You're saying the city lied?"

"No sir, no of course not." Francis defended. "Just that they got it wrong."

"So what happened?"

"Well sir, the problem was the size of the crash, it wasn't just the galaxy net it affected video transmissions, Stellar com, Earth com, shopping net, everything. Each of these functions uses a completely different server so the chances of them all going down at once are real unlikely."

"But they did." Leung pointed out.

"Yes they did, so there must have been something common to them all which caused it." Francis deduced. "Now each of these services starts in a different place, but they all terminate in one location." He tapped the screen behind him. "The household vid screen. You can send real time communications, surf the net or watch TV all with one monitor and system. Now at first I thought that might be the root problem, but it wasn't."

He referred to the drawing on the screen.

"All Earth communications use basic radio signals, TV tends to be broadcast through satellites, the net works through high density optical cables, Earth com a combination of the two. All different systems. Now that's fine for Earth, but useless for the colonies and our ships."

"Speed of light." Jenny nodded. "Across Earth it's not noticeable, but if we used radio waves to talk to our colonies we'd be waiting decades for a reply."

"So we use Tachyon communications." Leung said.

"Exactly." Francis grinned. "ISN, the Disney channel, Stellar com, they all go through Tachyon transmitters so they reach our offworld facilities almost instantly. Once there they are converted to whatever works best. Point is all our Earth based communications are funnelled through Tachyon relay stations, regardless of their point of origin."

"That's the common factor." Chapel saw where he was going. "All the affected systems shared the same Tachyon relay satellite."

"Yes sir." Francis beamed. "So I ran the records for the satellite orbiting New York, and that's where I found it." He altered his screen to show a graph of transmition frequencies, one line had a massive spike. "This is what did it, an incoming message which overloaded the satellite receiver and caused a feed back which crashed all the different servers all at once."

"I knew it was a good idea to hire you." Jenny smiled, making Francis turn a little red.

"What is that then?" Leung remained slightly critical.

"It was a message aimed at a reciepient on the Galaxy Net." Francis regained his composure. "A micro burst transmission, that's why it was so intense. We're talking military grade communications to come up with something that powerful."

"Can we copy it?" Chapel asked.

"I've tried, but the compression is locked in place by something in the message, I can't read it or even open it until I can find out what code it is using." Francis explained. "This thing is incredibly tough, the level of encryption is right up there with the stuff we use to send orders to our warships."

"So clearly somebody else has something to hide." Chapel's mind was working over the clues. "Do we know where it came from?"

"No sir, I'm afraid it's untraceable." Francis said apologetically. "But I can tell you it came from outside Earth space which is why it was in the Tachyon net."

"Definitely falls into our remit." Jenny noted.

"And one last thing." Francis said. "I can't crack the code yet, but I've discovered it's base algorithm. It's a perfect match for the intercepted Dilgar messages from the Persephone."

The room went utterly silent for at least twenty seconds before Chapel cleared his throat. "You're sure?"

"Positive sir." Francis nodded. "The message came from a Dilgar military communications unit beyond our border, and it was aimed for someone in New York."

Chapel whistled. "Boy the Director's going to want to hear this. Grab your stuff, I want you to come with me and tell him what you just told me."

"Also sir," Francis raised his voice above the scraping chairs. "If I can get the server records I might be able to tell exactly where the message went, at least narrow it down enough for a ground search."

"Outstanding!" Chapel slapped his hands together. "You earned your pay today."

"Thank you sir." Francis smiled euphorically, that all seemed to go really well. His spirits dipped a little when he realised he was going to have to talk to the Director of the EIA now as well.

"That was some really clever work." Jenny appeared beside him. "you're a good little spy."

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, thanks."

"Come on, we gotta move fast on this." Chapel was already at the door. "This is a real big deal."

"Speak later." Jenny stepped back and let him go. "See you in the bar, nine tonight."

He nodded enthusiastically and bundled his notes in his arms, then have ran have stumbled down the corridor towards Durban's office with Leung and Chapel flanking him. Today had started with him been terrified but was turning into a seriously good day, praise at work, making an impression on the Director, saving New York from an alien spy and then meeting aa attractive girl for drinks. Been a spy sure was cool.

Dilgar strike fleet, Hyperspace.

"A Hyach spy." Doctor Es'nar informed the Warmaster, her image dominating the communication screen with depthless calm. "We caught his ship watching our approach."

Over his shoulder Jha'dur could see the pitiable individual moving slightly on an operationg table. "The interrogation went well?"

Es'nar grinned a cold smile showing his crooked teeth. "Very well Warmaster, he was willing to tell us everything after an hour. After five we actually listened."

"So what did you learn amid this entertainment?"

"The Hyach navy has gathered at homeworld as expected Warmaster." The scientist reported in measured military tones. "They have evacuated as many as they can from their colonies and essentially abandoned them, their strength in orbit is now considered extremely heavy."

That was not good news for Jha'dur. Intelligence had already shown that the Hyach defences were formidable and the addition of all their surviving ships just made it worse. Her predictions for casualties relating to a full assault were not good.

"What about the new biological agent, how is research progressing?"

Es'nar's confidence suddenly lessened, it was subtle but Jha'dur picked up on it. "The research is successful Warmaster, based on your data we have synthesised the agent and it is able to replicate itself." He said but not as enthusiastically as he had mentioned the torture of the Hyach spy. "Our findings agree with your analysis, it is utterly deadly, exposure results in instant death no matter the species or health of the individual."

"Good." Jha'dur was pleased by the progress, and even more pleased that her scientist was nervous about the new creation. In her time between the battles at Tirrith and Yonog she had developed a formula for a new strain of biological agent, essentially a genetically engineered microbe which dissolved the central nervous system commen to all known species. It was without doubt the most deadly plague ever heard of, the ultimate in biological weaponry able to infect any species with fatality guaranteed, but also hardy enough to survive orbital drops in the most basic weapons canisters. A true nightmare.

"We should have enough synthesised in time for our attack on the Hyach," Es'nar said. "Coupled with our fleet actions we can guarantee their fall within hours."

"That is our ultimate goal." Jha'dur mused. "The most efficient removal of an obstacle that threatens us. Congratulations."

"Thank you Warmaster, we hope to…" he suddenly stopped speaking, his breath catching in his throat.

"Es'nar?" the Warmaster sked across the screen. "What is it?"

The scientist on the other side of the screen began to cough. "I, I'm having trouble breathing."

"Check your environmental status." She warned. "Quickly Es'nar, look at the lab display!"

The Dilgar scientist stumbled a little to the side before finding the right panel. "It say's… oh gods, the containment is breached!"

"What Containment?" Jha'dur asked curtly, making sure her tone gave nothing away.

"On the biological agent! It's scattering through the ship!" Es'nar began to descend into panic.

"Scientist, you will maintain your composure."

"We're all infected!" he yelled. "We're dead, all of us, we're dead!"

"You are a Dilgar officer and you will conduct yourself appropriately." Jha'dur said quietly. "Activate the internal scanners."

"What are we going to do? There is no cure, we've got minutes!"

"Scanners, Es'nar." Jha'dur said again. "Let me see what is happening."

"Alright," he said, breathing heavy and fighting for calm. "Patching through Warmaster."

"Good." Jha'dur saw the information feeding through to another adjacent screen in her quarters. The ships command crew and most of the workers were already dead, it seemed a fault in the internal sensors had allowed the disease to flood the ship and prevented the airtight seals and atmosphere venting to occur. There were four people left on the ship, and none of them stood a chance. However the feed allowed her to monitor the speed of the new weapon. "I can see a solution to your problem." She lied. "Just calm down, try and conserve your energy."

The panicked scientist tried to reduce his heart rate, which gave Jha'dur a better picture of how the disease attacked the nervous system.

"Is it working?" he gasped.

"Yes, yes it is." Jha'dur replied. "Just stay where you are."

He began coughing again, then spasmed and collapsed below the screen. Jha'dur watched on in fascination as he slowly died over the next five minutes, fascinated.

"Well, I suppose that proves it works." She sighed. "Now I need a new crew."

She was half way through writing up her notes on the incident when she suddenly stopped, what was she doing? Her first instinct had been to thoroughly document the effects of her new plague, to note down her observations and facts about the incubation period and lethality of the toxin while the images were still fresh in her mind. It was good scientific process and one of the first things she had been taught as a student many years ago. But that was wrong, she had just witnessed a few dozen people die right before her eyes in agony and her only reaction had been to write it down for future reference.

A few years ago she would have been horrified at that sight, she would have been numb and powerless, unable to help or prevent the incident. She would have cursed herself for not being able to do anything snd would shoulder the blame and responsibility for ordering the creation of the plague in the first place. But not today. Today she hadn't even given it a thought until just this moment, and even then it was more curiousity than sadness. She had changed over that time, but she hadn't quite realized just how much.

It wasn't the death she was worried about, in recent months she'd been the cause of more destruction than most despots and dictators ever dreamed off and she'd done it with a dismissive gesture before getting back to work. Killing aliens meant nothing, but the death of a member of her own race should have triggered some sort of response. She examined the problem a piece at a time, logically and rationally before coming up with her answer. She didn't care. The crew of that ship were assets, not people, and while it was a shame the assets were gone she had recovered a wealth of useful data from them as they expired which in her mind had paid for the loss. Because she gained some knowledge from it she did not consider it a waste, the fact they were living beings and comrades hadn't even passed her mind until this instant. This wasn't the first time either, her orders sending ships into hopeless battle or on suicide missions had been made with the same cold calculations, it didn't matter if they died just so long as Jha'dur or her people gained something useful from it first.

But what was worse was that she had manipulated her scientist, she had known he would die so made sure he died in a method best suited to her needs. Really she should have told him to put a pistol to his head or vent the atmosphere, it would have been a better way to end it, but she had kept him like a lab animal to observe real time the course of the disease. From an objective point of view it was incredibly callous and cruel, but Jha'dur hadn't blinked as the man collapsed in agony before her eyes. She had been too busy taking notes.

Jha'dur had never considered herself heartless before, she cared for her brother and her mentor, she cared for those handful of true friends she had made and she had devoted her life to saving her people in general. She had always accepted that many would die so that the majority could live, but this was perhaps taking that idea too far. She hadn't killed the crew just to see what happened, but she certainly hadn't tried to save them and had taken advantage of the incident despite what was morally right. It seemed morality was a thing of the past. With a shrug she dismissed the idea, morality was a virtue of those not facing the death of their race. Such luxuries could wait until after their war was completed.

She opened a channel for a nearby ship and ordered it to find and grapple the medical ship, a plan forming in her mind. Maybe she wouldn't need to assault the Hyach after all and the deaths of the crew could be put to use.

Shri-Shaba,

Homeworld, Hyach Gerontocracy.

Every news agency on the planet had been fed the images of Hyach warships massing over the homeworld, vast battleships and countless fighters moving busily to and fro on patrols in orbit. It was the second largest gathering of military might in Hyach history, they preferred not ot mention that the actual biggest gathering had been cut to ribbons by the Dilgar a few weeks earlier. It was a show of strength, a sight to reassure the increasingly worried population that the Hyach military was in charge of the situation and that there was no way the Dilgar could harm the planet. It was a promise neither the people nor the military truly believed.

The Dilgar navy was more than ships and crews, Jha'dur was more than just a commander, this war was more than just fighting for territory. The Hyach were an old race, they were slow to move and set in their opinions, one thing they rarely did was panic and any form of mass hysteria was unheard off in centuries, not since the last of the Hyach-Doh, a sub race of the species, had been shamefully executed at the end of a campaign of religious genocide which still tormented the modern Hyach. Yet for all their stoic pragmatism the Dilgar were driving primal fears from the population, they were often called 'Demons' despite the illogic of the statement, they were seen as unnatural beings with an almost perfect combat record. To fight the Dilgar was to meet death, to even see a Dilgar would bring doom. It was irrational of course, but the belief was spreading and the religious leaders were doing little to dispel the idea, with Jha'dur riding at the top of their list of things to fear.

Yorilal had many of these concerns on her mind, as one of the Elders of her race she was given a position of power in the government and huge respect by the people. Hyach society venerated the elderly as vessels of wisdom and tended to place the oldest and so in theory the wisest in positions of great power, the older they were the more powerful they became. It didn't always work out that way with obviously incompetant people being sidelined and other elders refusing posts in government, but generally speaking age meant power. At one hundred and ten years old Yorilal was very powerful and would be speaking with military command about the state of the defences.

Central command was a dark room with low level lighting, a large circular construction beneath the main government offices lined with the usual command consoles and communication devices. A full holographic tactical display existed in the centre of the room and aged officers milled around it. The room was quieter and more efficient than the command centres of most reasons, and most of this came down to the interface system, the various Hyach technicians and specialists were physically wired up to their stations using neural connections so they could send orders and relay data simply with their thoughts. It was a difficult technology to master, but it gave the military an edge in the information and intelligence stages of a battle.

"Admiral Uralli, what is the situation?" For her age Yorilal still had a commanding voice.

"Elder, we are just receiving fresh reports." Uralli was another old female, while men and women were generally equal in Hyach society females tended to live longer and so ended up in the positions of power withing Hyach society, by virtue of little more than living to the appropriate age with their faculties intact. Both Elders wore the plain rustic coloured robes and clothes of their people with only their badges separating their positions in hierarchy.

"The Dilgar?"

"Yes Elder, we are picking up two separate forces, a small force moving up from Yonog we believe is commanded by the Deathwalker, and a larger fleet arriving from occupied Abbai space."

"They wish to divide our forces." Yorilal guessed.

"It is smarter than we had hoped Elder." Uralli explained. "If they had attacked from one location we could have deployed the fleet to harass them all the way back to our home. But if we try that now they can flank our ships or force us to split our forces."

"So you recommend we keep the fleet tied to our planet?" Yorilal questioned.

"Actually Elder I support a more aggressive stance." Uralli offered a thin smile. "The larger fleet has units armed with Mass Drivers, something Deathwalker's fleets have relatively few of. The larger fleet is our main concern and I recommend a massive strike against it using all our speed, and then rapidly falling back to homeworld. We don't need to destroy everything, just the bombardment ships."

"It will weaken our defences." Yorilal grimaced.

"Yes Elder, but our static forces can more than handle Jha'dur's smaller fleet, and with no Mass Drivers the Dilgar will be unable to truly threaten us."

"Projected losses?" the official asked.

"Thirty percent material and personnel." Uralli replied bluntly. "The Dilgar aren't going to make this easy, if a ship is damaged or destroyed we will not be able to recover the crew."

Yorilal took a moment to consider the price. Their fleets had already suffered grievous losses and it would be years if not decades before they could truly recover from the Yonog disaster, however there was an old saying that war is about risk, and if they didn't make the effort to save homeworld they'd be staring down Dilgar warships before the day was out.

"I am authorized to give the military full command of the situation." She stated. "If you believe this attack will give us a greater chance of survival than you are free to execute it." She nodded. "And pray that it works, because if it doesn't we'll be extinct in a week."

Dilgar Fleet, Hyperspace

Dreadnought Deathwalker

With a developing smile Jha'dur watched the Hyach ships begin to move. The slowly assembled into combat formation and left orbit, leaving barely a skeleton force behind to support the orbital defence grid.

"They are taking the bait Warmaster." Captain An'jash grinned. "Enemy fleet powering up for jump."

"Heading for the ships closing from Abbai space?" Jha'dur inquired.

"Yes Warmaster." An'jash confirmed with enthusiasm. "Exactly as you predicted."

Jha'dur nodded in satisfaction as the Hyach fleet left. "They have no choice, they must act pre-emptively to prevent us putting bombardment ships too close to their planet. It is completely logical, completely understandable and it just signed their death warrants."

"Shall I issue attack orders?"

"Yes, but remind all ships this is a diversionary strike, not a ful assault." Jha'dur emphasised. "They don't need to destroy their targets or take unnecessary risks, just keep the defence grid looking our way."

Jha'dur's Strike Fleet responded to the orders and bean to break up it's formation into smaller independent units less suited for a concentrated attack but better for the Warmasters current plan. The fleet was going to attack in waves sweeping in, firing randomly on a section of the defences and then moving away before they took damage. It was a very inefficient way to do battle and certainly wasn't going to beat the defences quickly enough to open an exploitable breach but that wasn't the point. Jha'dur's plan had three strands to it, the first was occupying the orbital defences, the second was occupying the Hyach fleet, and the third was the attack itself coming from a completely different quarter.

Fighter wings deployed from their carriers and moved forward to use their agility to pick off the key components of the defence satellites while larger warships hung back and left the destroyers and frigates to use their speed to commence the attack. Long range missiles preceeded the first wave as the battle over Shri-Shraba began and slowly intensified.

Hyach Command.

Yorilal was no soldier but her decades of life had taught her a few basic concepts of strategy which she tried to apply to the Dilgar battle plan as it unfolded. The Dilgar fleet hitting the defence grid seemed to be Jha'dur's personal battlegroup consisting of a few hundred ships, certainly a threat but in her view nowhere near powerful enough to break the planetary defence grid. This was compounded by the Warmaster splitting her forces and attacking from multiple angles instead of focusing on piercing one point of the defences and hitting the world beneath. It didn't make sense a leader as astute as Deathwalker would make such an elementary mistake.

The military officers were busy in the room walking briskly back and forth gathering information and coordinating the defences so she remained silent and observed proceedings. She watched the measured lines of sensor echoes which represented Dilgar ships cross the brightly lit tactical displays towards the planet ringed with weapons icons. She saw weapons icons flash as they engaged and home defence fighter units move to intercept the attackers. She watched as the two sides met, engaged, and then broke contact with the Dilgar ships pulling away while another small assault swept in. It wasn't making a great impact on the defences, like pricking a herd of cattle with needles, but lives were still being lost high above, friend and foe, and that was something even eleven decades couldn't force her to accept.

Ships icons blinked out from both sides, a detached and clinical method of reporting several hundreds lives extinguished in the bleak void of space. Yorilal didn't feel detached from it and there was a part inside that was increasingly saddened by each loss, but she suppressed those emotions like she suppressed so much else in order to do her job. She was an elder and ruled purely by wisdom, not emotion.

"Our ships are closing on the main Dilgar force." Admiral Uralli reported.

"Will you engage them in hyperspace?" Yorilal asked. "It is a dangerous strategy."

"It is, but we need to destroy the enemy ships before they can exit hyperspace close to our homes." The Admiral replied. "We still have the advantage, our weapons are longer ranged and more accurate even considering the disturbances in hyperspace." The female officer smiled slightly. "This time we will not be caught by surprise."

The Hyach defence grid was the most powerful of its kind in known space, even in later years it was outmatched only by the Minbari home defences. The Abbai had invested heavily in preventing enemy ships breaching their orbit, each station and satellite was heavily shielded and screened by centuries worth of built up mine fields. The Hyach could not match the solid wall of the Abbai, so had elected the more logical approach of preventing enemy ships getting into orbit by simply overwhelming them with staggering amounts of firepower. The defences were built around space stations known throughout the League as Stellar Fortresses and as the Dilgar forces darted in and out of range it was apparent the term was not hyperbole.

One of the strike cruisers mistimed its approach and crossed one of the forts firing arcs, a pair of massive Spinal lasers pierced through the chaos and shredded the vessel in a heart beat, cutting it into three neat sections which fell apart and tumbled dead and cold into the void. Each spinal laser was hundreds of metres long and usually had ships built around them, the fortresses mounted half a dozen such weapons along with a myriad of smaller guns which would put even the human designers of the Nova Dreadnoughts to shame. They were an excellent example of excessive firepower and Jha'dur was in no mood to tangle with them. If necessary she would swamp their defences with mass drivers and nuclear strikes, but that was a task for the future, right now she needed to quickly take the Hyach out of the war.

She already knew the Brakiri were finished, their tenuous hold on racial survival was no great concern, they couldn't threaten the Dilgar flanks and left the combined fleets free to punch deeper into League and neutral space on their journey to the rim. Already scout ships were returning with hard data on the next targets which Jha'dur would eagerly absorb after this days events, nothing like a new challenge. Right now though she focused on the job at hand.

"Warmaster, fourteenth Pentacan has disabled a satellite node in grid four, they ask permission to press the attack." An'jash read without taking her eyes off the swirling tactical information and reports.

"No, keep them on strafing runs." Jha'dur said. "This isn't an assault. Keep them mobile."

"Yes Warmaster."

She watched the battle unfold, the static defences were focused on her fleet and the Hyach warships were deep in hyperspace closing on the second Dilgar force. Now was as good a time as any.

"Captain, send the pass word to the Tomb group, commence operations."

Down on the planet a growing sense of unease was playing on Yorilal's mind. The Dilgar were barely making any impression on the orbital defences and the few opportunities that did open up were being largely ignored. Even a new and mediocre commander should be smart enough to recognise and exploit simple opportunities like that, but they were still holding back.

"I've noticed it too." Admiral Uralli sighed, following the Elders gaze to the tactical screens. "They open up a section of the defences then leave, giving us time to fill the gap with fresh forces."

"Why are they doing that?" Yorill asked.

"My first thought was attrition, they intend to wear us down, but the Dilgar fleet is tiny compared to our defences, they'll waste themselves before our defence grid is even strained." The Admiral answered. "It just looks like it's been run by an amateur."

"Warmaster Jha'dur is no amateur." Elder Yorilal stated.

"Perhaps intelligence was wrong. Perhaps she is with the other fleet."

The Elder studied the screen, the Dilgar attacks were focused on three separate points of the defence grid drawing most of the fire and the few remaining defence ships to face them. There was a sizeable area of the planet uncovered by warships and with just a handful of satellites, the rest of that sectors defences were focused on the Warmasters sweeping attacks. "What ships do we have there?" she asked.

"In that sector?" Uralli used the question to buy herself time to check. "Four stealth ships holding station outside the satellite network. They'd by too vulnerable in a standard battle with Dilgar ships so I'm keeping them out of the way in case they bring in Mass drivers." She smiled. "Then I'll send them through the enemy lines and take out their bombardment group in one volley."

Yorilal appreciated the plan, the stealth ships were the Hyach's hidden ace but there was still something troubling her.

"Admiral." A Technician called calmly. "Our fleet is nearing the Dilgar battlegroups in hyperspace."

Both Uralli and Yorilal moved down to get a better view of the coming battle, the main tactical display shifting to show the neatly arrayed triangular formations of the Hyach warships crossing hyperspace. It represented about a quarter of the navy and ninety percent of their surviving forces going up against a Dilgar force slightly superior in numbers.

"As soon as they destroy the enemy the fleet will return home at maximum speed." Uralli ordered. "Quick and clean, order them to lock on and prepare for long range fire."

Hyach weapons had an enviable reputation for accuracy and even though hyperspace severly curtailed that advantage they still had an edge on most other races. The Dilgar would be very hard pressed to respond adequately.

"Lead ships arming weapons." The technician relayed. "Seeking target locks."

"Dilgar response?"

"None Admiral." The technician reported. "Enemy ships maintaining course and speed."

"They might not even have seen us." Uralli said aside to her Elder. "We will certainly get the first strike."

"Sensors compensating for hyperspace drift." The relaying officer continued her commentary. "Targeting systems online across the fleet, laser systems ready to fire."

There was a delay before the next report as the officer had to go back and read the incoming report twice.

Uralli frowned. "Problem officer?"

"I'm not sure Admiral, the fleet are reporting conflicting sensor returns."

"Conflicting how?" Yorilal asked.

"Madam Elder, the long range main sensors are showing different data to targeting sensors." The officer said. "Main scanners show the enemy to be a force of Capital ships, but the targeting systems show…"

"Cargo ships." Uralli felt a black anger rising up. "That isn't a warfleet, it's cargo ships!"

Yorilal was lost in surprise. "Wait, a minute ago you said it was a Dilgar battlefleet!"

"It was!" Uralli screeched. "All our probes said they were warships!"

"Admiral, fleet commander believes the ships were broadcasting false sensor data." The technician said plainly, the neural interface robbing her of much emotion.

"The Dilgar can do that?" Yorilal swallowed hard, she hadn't guessed they would be able to fool the advanced Hyach scanners.

"I suppose they can." Uralli was beginning to shake, for some reason the Dilgar had wanted to lure away the Hyach fleet with this bait, Jha'dur knew the Hyach wouldn't be able to resist an ambush and she gave them exactly what they expected. "Get the fleet back here immediately, emergency thrust, just get them back!"

"Admiral." The Elder spoke with forced calm. "Send a sensor probe out beyond sector twelve." She referred to the less well defended part of their homeworld. "Do it now."

Orbit

"Captain Adalla," the male executive officers deep voice woke her from her thoughts. "Orders from command, we are to launch a sensor probe, targeted directly ahead."

Adalla nodded, her ship was one of the four Stealth cruisers loitering away from the battle awaiting further orders. The Alichi Kav class were one of the Hyach's more unique types of vessel designed for first strikes on key enemy ships and facilities. The ships used sensor absorbant material combined with the latest in stealth design and sensor manipulation technology. These ships were all but undetectable at all but the shortest ranges if they were rigged for silent running and it was only when they powered up for battle that an enemy became aware of their existence. They were very well armed with a spinal laser and enough regular weapons to mount a crippling first strike on an enemy, often enough to destroy most ships outright. Unfortunately their defences were less than impressive and if an enemy survived the first strike the Stealth cruiser was almost certainly doomed. The crews of such ships led a stressful and tense life amd Adalla was one of the few officers who actually volunteered for the job.

"Follow the order." She said, watching closely as her crew performed the task with quick efficiency. The ship itself could not use it's active sensors for fear of lighting up it's position, but the sensor probe would broadcast it's data enough so the passive systems would see all that it saw.

"Data coming through now Ma'am." Her first officer reported. "Captain, we have enemy ships on the screen, their rigged for silent running."

Adalla cursed. "Location?"

"Two hundred thousand miles out and closing steady, they're running with high ECM, impossible to get a lock at this range."

"Send the information to command, then request orders." She said curtly, the enemy force was small but trying to hide. That troubled her a lot and with Deathwalkers reputation for trickery she felt something bad churning in the pit of her stomach.

A few minutes later the message was returned. Adalla read it careful with a faint sigh then lowered the printed sheet. "Officers, Command are ordering us to move forward and engage the enemy ships."

There were some murmurs and sideways looks, the Dilgar force was small but it was still made up of at least six warships, Adalla only had four ships at her desposal and even if they managed to take out one target each, the remaining two Dilgar vessels would have little trouble cutting apart the slowly rearming Stealth ships.

"We have recently lost contact with our intelligence agent shadowing the Dilgar, but before we did he reported the Dilgar were developing a highly virulent Plague, and command believes that one of those ships is carrying it to be used on our homeworld."

This time there was a heavy silence.

"The defences cannot equalise in time to face it, and the fleet is still too far away. Deathwalker has played this game well and by the time the defence grid can hit it it will be too late, the wrecked ship will carry the Plague down to our homes anyway. We must destroy it before it reaches position."

Sometimes it was hard to read the mood of the crew, but in this instance their attitude was plainly clear. They were utterly determined to fulfil this mission, Adalla had no need to remind them of home and duty, they already knew.

"All four of our ships will proceed under silent running to the Dilgar force and destroy the plague ship, that is all. Once we fire we'll be wide open for the escort ships, but just as long as we kill the Plague ship first then our ultimate fate will not be a waste. Prepare your stations and remember your home and family."

Dreadnought Deathwalker

"Warmaster, we have intercepted a Hyach message." An'jash stated. "It is encrypted but it seemed to be transmitted towards empty space."

Jha'dur took interest in that, even amid the fighting she could take a little time for a good mystery. "Where was it sent?"

"It was a narrow band transmission." An'jash said. "Luckily it was directly in the path of Tomb group and they intercepted it."

"It hit Tomb group." Jha'dur mused. "So it was aimed at a group either directly behind those ships, or directly in front."

"Probably Warmaster, the method of transmission was standard radio, the Tachyon systems are flooded by Hyach fleet orders."

Jha'dur grinned at that, her little bluff had pulled away the Hyach battlefleet and it was now desperately being ordered home. It would be too late. "Radio messages ar eonly of use to units in orbit." She declared. "The Hyach must have vessels close to the planet, in the path of Tomb group, that this ships sensors cannot see. Suggestions Captain?"

"An'jash thought for a second. "Hyach Sub sensor ships."

"Alicha Kav class Stealth cruisers." Jha'dur confirmed. "Well done Captain, best countermeasure to these units?"

"They are very hard to detect but easy to destroy. I would deploy scouting units ahead of Tomb group to sweep the path."

"Very good." Complimented Jha'dur. "Main fleet will continue harassing the defences and preventing redeployment, Tomb group hold course and mission, then deploy a reserve fighter wing to cover the Tomb ship." The Tomb ship was the medical cruiser which had suffered the accident earlier in the day, its insides crammed with the latest disease and hundreds of hardened canisters of other toxins which would survive reentry or even the destruction of the ship. The vessel was moving under auto pilot controlled from the escorts and when the time was right it would engage main engines and break cover before falling into the atmosphere and turning Shri-shaba int lifeless desert. All Jha'dur had to do was clear the way.

"And Captain, make sure they are packing nukes."

Hyach Stealth fleet.

"We have confirmation of six enemy ships, five are in a 'V' formation, one ship is hidden behind the others."

"That's probably our target." Adalla guessed. "Hold course and speed, nice and easy."

The ship was using it's gravitic engines at their lowest possible setting to avoid detection, Adalla was thankful for the technology and was glad they weren't leaving a bright stream of radioactive ions in their wake like most ships did. A giant arrow pointing to their ship which read 'shoot here' for any half competent weapons officer.

"Captain, passive scans showing new targets." Her operations officer said sharply. "Enemy fighters."

That complicated matters, now they would have a hard time getting into range. The ECM being thrown up by the Dilgar ships was enough to force the Stealth vessels in dangerously close as it was, but a fighter screen was something else. It only took one well placed round to turn a stealth ship into a prime easily visible target.

There was suddenly a flurry of sensor activity. "Captain, a Dilgar fighter squadron just broke formation, heading to starboard!"

"Coming our way?" Adalla asked quickly.

"No Captain." She exhaled a little in relief, an emotion she immediately felt ashamed off when a bright flash filled a corner of the tactical screen.

"Nuclear explosion." Her first officer said. "Location corresponds to the position of the Assassin."

Adalla grimly watched the light fade, knowing that she had just seen one of her sister ships die. The Stealth service was close knit enough so that most crews knew each other and there would be familiarity with the recently dead. "Confirm?"

"Confirmed Captain, sensors showing wreckage consistent with one of our ships."

"Understood. Maintain radio silence and stay on task." She would have preferred to look for survivors, but even without the crucial importance of her task she understood that nobody would be left after an attack like that.

As the range closed Adalla watched the Dilgar fighters swarm back and forth eternally vigilant for threats. It must only have been minutes but it felt like days woth of hiding, a game of cat and mouse where quite appropriately the Dilgar represented the felines. It was unnervingly quiet on the ship, there was need for it to be, the Dilgar could not hear them across the void, but even so the crew did not speak as if their very lives depended on their individual sneakiness.

"Two minutes to range." The sensor officers whisper was thunderous in the quiet.

"Set your target for the ship hidden behind the escort." Adalla said quietly. "Prepare to go hot on all systems."

Another explosion took them by surprise, this time on their port side. Sensors showed a heavily damaged Stealth cruiser reeling after a close range Nuclear explosion. It fell powerless through space and was rapidly targeted by the Dilgar escorts.

"Get to the lifepods." Adalla pleaded under her breath, but too late. The ship was destroyed before any of the crew even had a chance to abandon their stations. Its fire dimmed as the lives on board were extinguished, leaving just two ships to complete the mission.

"One minute." Came the even voice, apparently unaffected by the carnage. Like many specialist officers the sensor and weapons technicians were both attached by neural uplink into the ships main offensive systems. While they could disconnect at any time and it had no lasting effects while they were hooked up they seemed to become more machine like, as if they were a component of the system rather than its controller. In many ways that is exactly what they were.

"New targets." The first officer warned. "Dilgar fighters, their sweep's going to bring them right down on us."

Adalla had positioned her ship beneath the plane of the Dilgar advance but the ever present fighters were being mechanically thorough. If they held their course they would stumble onto her cruiser, and if she tried to change course herself the Dilgar would spot the engine surge.

"Engines, prepare to engage full ahead." She ordered. "But on my order only. Weapons stand by for crash arming sequence, forget the safeties."

"Captain, if we do not take precautions we risk burning out the system." The implanted gunnery officer stated simply.

"I am aware of that guns, but we won't be making a second shot anyway. I think we all understand that."

She was proud of her crew, and in some ways surprised at her self. She had never dwelt on the possibility of death in her service, recognising it as a possible consequence of circumstance or a bad decision but hoping it would be one of those things that affected other people. At forty years old she was still young for a Hyach and her wisdom was considered impressive for her age but she still possessed some of that fire of youth, she still had some passion and was not resigned to life. She wanted more, and death would destroy all of that. She ignored the question because if she confronted death and all it implied she thought she would break down and run.

There was no running now, no way out from this net which the Dilgar were casting about them. Strangely she wasn't as concerned as she imagined, her thoughts were not on the end of her existence, but on the continuation of her world. She never expected this moment to be so selfless.

"Fighters breaking away!" The First officer said in astonishment. "They missed us!"

"No." Adala said. "They saw us, they just don't want to be caught in the blast."

As she said it the sensor station screamed in warning. "Missile incoming, estimate megaton yield!"

Sirens wailed as the automatic collision alarms kicked in, every passive sensor warning the crew about the impending doom, a direct hit from a weapon like that would finish this mission very quickly, the Stealth ships were not set up to survive even weak attacks.

Adalla set into motion her final plan, with their cover blown there was no reason to keep hiding, now they just needed to survive long enough to take their shot.

"All engines full ahead!" she yelled. "Get us out of the blast radius!"

The gravitic drive kicked in with a tug despite the inertial compensators and the ship lunged forwards, the sudden hike in power radiating out like a globe and overpowering the stealth systems. The weapons boards on the Dilgar escorts lit up and the well trained crews began plotting firing solutions within a few seconds of the ship revealing itself. But Adalla didn't care, they had a few seconds before the Dilgar ships opened fire, the incoming missile was more dangerous right now.

The weapon had been set to explode in a given area, and the cruiser was putting as much distance as possible between itself and there. Adalla's engines weren't as good as most ships, and the cruiser handled like a brick but it was gathering speed, unfortunately evading the missile meant closing on the Dilgar warships. Either way they were doomed.

She felt the explosion rather than heard it, which she supposed made sense. The Dilgar missile detonated a few miles behind the Hyach cruiser, far enough away to spare it instant destruction but not to prevent damage. A normal Hyach ship would have survived with a scorched hull, but not the Stealth cruiser. Its aft section was crumpled and rippled by the blast, folds of thin metal adopted for its stealth properties flaying from the structural supports in a scatter of molten metal and fluttering debris. The engineering deck split open and a great rent opened up the ship from stem to stern exposing most of its insides. Miraculously it did not instantly explode, but held barely together.

Adalla picked herself up, despite the chaos everything was silent around her and it was a long moment before she realised her hearing must be gone. Her eyes slowly looked across the bridge seeing the First officer lying wounded and bloody in a far corner. She saw the helm officer fighting to bring the ships bow into firing position while the sensor officer was still in her seat, head tilted back and mouth open lifeless. Only the weapons officer seemed to be in calm control.

"Target!" Adalla yelled, unable to hear her own voice. Whatever the reply was she never heard it, but base don the tactical screen ahead the main weapons were still online and ready to fire, they just needed bringing into arc.

The Dilgar ships engaged, their bolt cannons passing clean through the stealth cruiser causing even more damage, they were seconds away from destruction. Fighters edged into position and tried to pick off the deadly spinal laser, burning through more armour as the helm came about, final locking on to the Dilgar target.

"Fire!" Captain Adalla's final words were ones of both triumph and relief. She saw the laser cannons strike the targeted ship and bore clean through it from bow to stern, a clean kill. It flashed into oblivion joined a second later by the Stealth ship as the escorts finished their job.

Hyach Command

Yorilal watched one more green icon fade from the display, but this time it took a red icon with it.

"Explosion confirmed." A technician reported. "The Sub fired before it was destroyed."

"Status of the Dilgar ship?" Admiral Uralli demanded. "Did they destroy it?"

There was a long pause. "Yes Admiral, target totally destroyed."

A massive cheer echoed in the room, hurting Yorilal's old ears, not that she minded of course and broke into a relieved smile herself.

"Wait." The technician said evenly and emotionlessly. "Sensors are showing no sign of biological agent."

"What?" Uralli wondered. "What do you mean?"

"In the debris of the Dilgar ship, there are no biological agents, just wreckage and crew."

"It wasn't the Plague ship." Yorilal's heart plummeted to the floor. "It was another trick, it's still out there."

"By the Ancients." Uralli drew a sharp intake of breath. "We've got one ship left, just one!"

"Reinforcements?" Yorilal asked quickly.

"They won't be back in time." Uralli gasped in panic. "And our satellites can't hit them yet!"

"Blind fire them!" the Elder demanded. "We might get lucky and hit something, we won't just sit here and let them advance!"

The atmosphere was fast approaching panic, even the old command staff who were the unflappable heart of the Hyach navy were beginning to lose their grip and their tempers. Yorilal stood among them, an eye of calm amid the storm, she had noticed a tiny detail which might just save their world.

"That ship." Her voice was measured and calm but with a weight of autority behind it practiced to perfection on the council of Elders. "There, second to the left in the Dilgar line."

Uralli stopped and looked at it. "Yes Elder?"

"It's movements are sluggish, everything it does is a few seconds behind the others."

"Yes," she reviewed the logs. "Yes it is, but how do we use that?"

"Think about it, Jha'dur's ships are elite, incredibly well trained. She would not tolerate sloppiness from her crews, that ship is different, either it has a novice crew she is willing to sacrifice or it is on auto pilot."

Uralli blinked. "That's the Plague ship?"

"Yes it is."

"Elder we have one last ship able to intercept, one last chance to hit it." Uralli spelt it out. "If we hit the wrong target, we will suffer greatly for it."

"I know." The Elder nodded. "Send the orders, attack that ship."

But before the message departed the final green icon lit up the board, a sure sign that the last Stealth ship had been spotted. Yorilal's blood ran cold, the ship was already engaging before they could feed it the new information, already Dilgar warships were firing, and sure enough the second ship from the left responded noticeably slower. Had they seen the same thing she had? Would they hit the right target? She was completely helpless, and in a century had never felt more weak.

The ship fired, and a second later vanished in a nuclear explosion.

"What did it hit?" she said through her dry throat. "What happened?"

"It did it!" Uralli snapped her aged head around ignoring the pain. "It destroyed the Plague ship!"

It took a great effort for the Elder to not collapse ito a heap on the floor, the anxiety and out right fear flowed away from her like a cascading waterfall. The threat was averted.

"Adjust defences." Uralli orded enthusiastically. "Concentrate on the Dilgar heavy ships, take any shot you have!"

Dreadnought Deathwalker

"Annoying." Was Jha'dur's only response to the news.

"Warmaster the Hyach ships will be arriving soon." Captain An'jash said. "We can't afford to be caught between a fleet and the defence grid."

"I am aware of that Captain." She said smoothly, her short temper the only sign of anger slipping through the military mask of calm professionalism. "Recall the fleet, fall back to the outer reaches of the system."

"Yes Warmaster."

"We will retire and hold the system until the blockade ships arrive." She thought out loud. "They can bottle up the Hyach, harrass them, keep them on the defensive. If nothing else we showed them the risk in sending their fleets out of the system, I don't think we need to worry about them attacking our flank."

"With respect, are you that certain Warmaster?"

She smiled. "They are scared, we gave them quite a fright." Jha'dur chuckled at that. "They won't leave orbit while we threaten them, and despite their training they lack, what did that human book say? 'Moral fibre' I believe."

"Yes Warmaster." As far as An'jash was concerned Jha'dur was never wrong. "the fleet is responding."

"We've done our work here." Deathwalker said with finality. "Our destiny lies rimward. When the system is blockaded we will join my Brothers fleet and prepare for the main phase of this expansion." She smiled her favourite smile, one of cold triumph. "And gods help anyone who gets in our way."


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 37

Presidential offices.

Geneva, Earth

Sunlight was streaming hazily through the thin cream coloured curtains of the office giving a radiant glow to the desk and objects decorating the Presidents office. The interplay of the shaded wood of his old desk in the glimmering light fascinated President Hauser for a few moments while his advisors entered exactly on time. They were familiar faces and familiar personalities by now, General Denisov of Earth Force command, Secretary of State Brogan and EIA Director Durban. They met weekly to discuss the big picture Earth found itself in the middle of, but on occasion they would have emergency meetings to discuss a sudden crisis. One such meeting had occurred a few days ago when Director Durban had told Hauser a Dilgar agent was believed to be on Earth and the intelligence agencies were rapidly doing all they could to locate him.

He turned his gaze away from the dancing morning light and focused on his advisors, each one taken their place in the lush leather armchairs provided for them. They fumbled papers, settled down, then waited for the President to open the meeting.

"Morning gentlemen, I hope you are all well." Hauser said, his natural German accent more controlled than in normal conversation, it was a sign he was intensely focused on what was going to be discussed. The staff answered in the affirmative and he continued. "I'm going to break with protocol and hear Director Durban first, I believe his news is most pressing. Karl?"

Director Durban gathered his notes, his face was as expressionless as to be expected from a former field agent and his manner tightly controlled. He opened the brown clad folder and began in a measured and calm voice designed to clearly repeat information.

"As you are aware we recently intercepted a high powered message of Dilgar origin heading for New York." He began. "We have a copy of the message but so far we hven't been able to decipher it. Our guess is they are instructions for one or more agents working for the Dilgar to begin operations on Earth."

"A question," Secretary Brogan interrupted. "Do you know how many agents and if they are human or alien?"

Durban did not appreciate the interruption but restrained himself. "We don't know. What we believe is that the agent is established here, whoever it is has a living space and access to some advanced technology. An analysis of the signal showed both Dilgar and human technology keys embedded in it."

"What does that mean?" the President asked.

"It means the decoding device the agent owns is built from both Dilgar and human components." Durban stated. "Which means he had to get those pieces and fit them together and that takes time, resources and connections."

"You think it's more than one agent?" Denisov looked for clarification.

"In the opinion of the EIA, yes." Durban confirmed. "Now who they are and what roles the play is the process of a major investigation, one of the biggest the Agency has undertaken, and we already have the first results of this."

"Go ahead." Brogan said off hand.

"One of our analysts has narrowed down the direction of the signal to one city block in New York City."

"What?" Brogan exclaimed. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"That would be classified." Durbun replied with barely disguised glee. "All we need is Presidential authority to go in apprehend the suspect."

President Hauser didn't speak straight away, he rested back in his tall chair and dropped into deep thought. "Your recommendation Director?"

"Mr President, I say go in as fast as we can and arrest this guy before he does any damage."

"I agree sir." General Denisov added.

"I have to say Mr President I don't like the idea of letting an alien spy wander around Earth." Brogan reluctantly backed his felow advisors. "Especially in New York."

Hauser nodded. "What's the plan?"

"Well Mr President we aim to keep it low profile." Durban sat up and turned to a new page in his notes. "We've contacted the police department and arranged for a SWAT team to be deployed but the operation is under EIA jurisdiction, I've got two of my best touching down in New York as we speak."

"We need this done quick and quiet." Brogan glanced over at Durban. "Next week we've got a Psi corps conference in the 10k tower, already a lot of reporters nosing around and we don't need them to know we've got a spy ring in our homes."

"That's why I'm going with a small team." Durban said. "Last thing we want is GROPOS running around in full combat gear. SWAT and my people should be able to handle it."

Hauser asked the expected question. "Collateral damage?"

Durban shook his head. "If this goes right it'll look like a drugs raid, nothing more."

"But what if the spy offers resistance?" Brogan pointed out.

"We'd like him or her alive." The EIA director answered. "But my people are armed and authorised to make a killing shot if threatened. We don't know who the Dilgar agent is, could be a thirty stone computer hacker, could be a fully trained special forces soldier."

The President nodded. "Well Gentlemen as far as I'm concerned the operation is a go. Proceed when ready."

"Thank you Mr President." Durban inclined his head.

"Alright, other matters." Hauser poured himself a glass of water. "Can I offer any of you a drink?"

The assembled leaders shook their heads.

"Secretary Brogan, what's new in the State department?"

The stocky man now turned to his own information. "As usual our reports are full of news from the League." He said. "We have scattered reports from Dilgar propaganda news of Brakir being attacked, along with a strike on the Hyach homeworld. While we can't take their conclusions as truth they have shown genuine footage of mass driver strikes on Brakir."

"It looks grim sir." General Denisov spoke up. "We had our people try and do a damage analysis based on what we saw of the Dilgar bombardment." He fished for a sheet of stencilled paper. "We worked out that the assault on Alaca killed between one and one point five billion souls in a couple of hours through bombardment alone."

The figure was unreal, and while Hauser took in the number it was an inconcievable image, a death toll on that scale had never even been theorized on Earth, even global Nuclear war would have been a third as deadly. "Dear heaven."

"Yes Mr President." Denisov nodded. "Based on those figures we extrapolated that a brief attack on the continental United States, Europe or South East Asia on the scale of the Brakir attack would kill over two hundred million people."

"And Brakiri population centres are much denser than ours." Brogan stated. "Makes the East coast conurbations look like small midwestern towns."

"A death toll of half a billion Brakiri is our current estimate." Denisov finalised. "Luckily they missed the capital city and only managed one salvo, but it emphasises how devestating modern warfare can be."

"I'm going to offer this analysis to the Senate." Brogan gestured at the Generals notes. "We'll be working out the new Earth Force budget for the fiscal year in the next two months, these figures should drive home the need for a strong fleet of warships."

"What else do we have?" Hauser brought the subject back. "Any diplomatic contact?"

Brogan flicked through some pages. "Just the usual Mr President, routine trade with the Markab, no activity on the Ch'Lonas or Koulani borders, slight raider activity on the Centauri border. Since the war erupted in the League diplomatic channels have been getting quieter."

"Less and less people to talk to." Hauser thought out aloud.

"Speaking of Mr President," Durban cut in. "There is a growing movement in the Senate to do something about the Dilgar."

"We've already taken a hard line after those bastards shot down the Persephone" Brogan huffed. "But while I'd like nothing better than to go out there and take a pound of flesh as payment, I advise against any direct involvement."

Harry Brogan was a well known proponent of putting Earth in a stronger galactic position. He had long lobbied for a more powerful and flexible Earth force and a more direct implementation of Earth policy beyond its borders. While this attitude should have won him support in the military it was an unspoken but well known fact in higher circles that the Persephone incident had come about as part of his political machinations. There was no way to pin blame or negligence on the Secretary of State, but the Joint chiefs knew exactly where the fault for the loss of one of their best ships and crew lay.

"Opinion poles agree." Hauser nodded. "The Public don't want a war, especially one so far from our borders. Hopefully the Dilgar will burn out or achieve their objectives soon and just stop."

"That's about it from State Mr President." Brogan ended.

"Thank's Harry, okay General, what has Earth Force got to say this week?"

General Denisov cleared his throat and began speaking with his Ukrainian accent. As Chairman of the Joint Chiefs he was third in command of the military might of humanity and the senior soldier with great responsibility. While his days riding zero G warships were long gone he still found enough to keep him occupied.

"Mr President, as Secretary Brogan said our main concern is the new budget."

"What proposals will you be making General?" Hauser wondered.

"Through the various over sight committees we've come up with a priority list of items we believe Earth needs with great speed, items which cannot wait until next years budget."

"Let's hear it General."

"Top of the list, warships."

Hauser smiled. "I thought it would be."

"As the President is aware we simply do not have the numbers to adequately cover our borders." Denisov spoke seriously. "In the past the Senate has squeezed our budget and severly limited our procurement forcing us to make do with obsolete equipment."

"That was a previous administration General." Hauser reminded. "Under my Presidency Earth Force has been well supported."

Denisov nodded. "Of course Mr President, I wasn't making an accusation, just a concern that at this time we cannot afford to slip back into old habits."

"Understood General, go on."

"Our primary military focus is based on a layered fleet defence." Denisov spoke. "We have the Tethys and Oracle class ships acting as our eyes and ears, We have Artemis and Hermes class ships conducting raids on the enemy rear echelons, and we have our capital fleets deployed as a solid wall to bar invaders from Earth space."

"Same principle we've worked on since the founding of the Alliance." Brogan added.

"And it should still work." Denisov nodded. "We have the ability to engage any opponent at any range, from long range missile and rail gun salvos to point blank plasma cannon volleys. But we need more ships." He looked through his file. "We always assumed the Narn were our most likely aggressors and the Narn Regime's forces share many of our strengths and weaknesses which makes them easy to predict. However we know consider the Dilgar the biggest threat to the Earth Alliance, and the Joint Chiefs are almost certain that one day we will be fighting them."

The President had expected to hear Denisov make that announcement, but it still chilled him. Humanity had never fought a war against an interstellar power before, just a few skirmishes which never lasted more than one battle. The President was a believer in diplomacy, but he was not fool enough to rely on it alone, especially given the Dilgar reputation.

"What does the Fleet need?"

"Our aim is to focus on the newer units." Denisov said. "Nova, Hyperion, Hecate and Olympus. Ships which can operate without resupply for extended tours. Ships like the Sagitterius and Artemis have their place in our battle lines but our committees have pushed for self reliant ships with energy based weapons which do not need to reload. This is exactly the mission the Nova was built for."

"How effective will our navy be in combat?" Brogan asked.

"Impossible to say for certain." Denisov replied. "But based on the Persephone data one on one our ships have an advantage. Unfortunately the Dilgar outnumber us right now and have a far superior logistics system which is feeding their war machine despite the distance between their factories and fleets. From what we know our ships are stronger and better armed, the Dilgar have speed and a range advantage, however the interceptor grid fitted on our warships should negate the enemy fire."

"We're expanding shipyards." Hauser nodded. "And beginning a recruitment campaign."

"We've also scheduled wargames for next month which will use a Dilgar style enemy as our opposing force, help us work out tactics and train our people how to out think the Dilgar." Denisov explained. "But they aren't like most of the other races, the Dilgar have a professional army and navy and they are trained rigourously. If anything they are the closest thing to our own forces we have seen in the galaxy."

"With the current climate I doubt the Senate will veto a rise in the defence budget." Director Durban theorized. "At their current rate we have perhaps a year before the Dilgar reach our borders."

"Enough time General?" Hauser asked.

"No sir, I'm afraid not." Denisov grunted. "Even if everything goes well and there are no budget problems we will still need two years minimum to implement our full fleet programme. Our aim is for a fifteen thousand ship fleet, with Novas as our bedrock, Hyperions as our main force, Olympus corvettes in escort and the new model Nova Starfuries as the front line fighter. By next year we will only have a third of the fleet equipped with the new Furies."

"State can't guarantee we will go to war." Brogan chipped in. "But we have to face the possibility that Earth Force will have to reach beyond our borders. The only way to win will be to take the fight to the enemy itself."

"Which given the short range nature of our ships could be an issue." The President recognized.

"Earth Force command had the same worry, and building a dedicated long range warship is going to take us years if not decades of additional research." The General gestured. "Our ships need a nearby base of operations to keep the supplied and to give the crews some gravity time to keep their bodies from falling apart out there."

"The problem is we would rely on Alien bases if we were fighting in League space, and frankly Mr President I don't trust one of those races to look after our boys and girls." Brogan snorted.

Denisov gave him a glance before continuing. "There is also the high probability that most forward base would be destroyed or crippled by the Dilgar and unsuitable for our needs. We have therefore decided that if we can't use an existing facility we will take our own."

"How do you mean?" wondered Hauser.

"Our technicians have designed a portable starbase, the Dionysus class." Denisov explained. "It's a little smaller than our standard Orion class bases but has the advantage of been built in segments which can be taken by freighter to a given location, say a recently liberated world, and assembled in orbit within a couple of days."

"It's the same concept as the Mulberry harbours from the twentieth century." Durban said. "We don't need to waste time and resources capturing a starbase and it will make our actions less predictable. With this base design we don't need to capture territory, we can focus on assaulting enemy formations at will."

President Hauser sat back and exhaled. "These are not easy days, not for any of us."

"No Mr President," Durban agreed. "The Narn and Centauri are glowering at each other over the Gorash system and half the League is burning. So far we've been lucky."

"We're stood on the edge of a galaxy spanning war gentlemen." The President announced. "And to believe it will just pass us by is wishful thinking. Sooner or later we will have to make a decision about whether we fight or not, and we need to make sure we have the skills and resources to back up whatever decision we make."

"War with the Dilgar is inevitable as far as I am concerned." Brogan huffed. "We can't afford to have an aggressive race like that in the galaxy, nobody else seems able to stop them so I'll bet a million credits on it becoming our job."

"It is likely." Denisov sighed. "But whether we fight or not we need an expanded fleet to act as a deterrent and if necessary a flexible combat force."

"I'll approve the new budget for voting." Hauser stated. "And I'll give it my endorsement and see what the Senate says." He stood, indicating the others should follow suit. "Thank you gentlemen, keep me informed of the situation in New York and the plans for our new set of Wargames. Preparation and vigilence."

"The price of freedom." Brogan remarked.

"Lets hope the Senate agrees." Denisov added. "Because freedom doesn't come cheap."

"Our main concern is to be ready for whatever happens, at home or on our borders." The President informed them, looking sternly at each member of his advisory group. "This is the biggest threat we have faced, I don't trust the Dilgar one bit and I will not have them setting up an Empire on our borders. One way or another we will prevent that. Head back to your departments, Director Durban, I want to be informed the instant you have more information on the New York situation. Until then take care and I'll see you tomorrow."

As they left Hauser fervently hoped there would be a tomorrow for himself and his world, because if the Dilgar were not checked than the future of humanity was in doubt, and Earth could become just one more cratered ball of rock under Dilgar domination. The Narn and Centauri were otherwise engaged, and the League was falling like corn before a scythe, it was looking all the more likely that the only thing that was going to stop the Dilgar advance towards the rim was a thin grey line of Earth force warships, and it became his job to make that grey line as tough as possible.

President Hauser returned to his reports, but though his eyes scanned the documents none of the words filtered through to his brain. His entire consciouceness was bent on New York and what was unfolding half a world away.

New York City

"You know I've never been to New York." Jenny remarked as she watched the towering buildings pass by on the other side of the car window. She craned her head to try and see the tops of the buildings but even the ones in the distance were obscured by height.

"I was born here." Chapel said from the driving seat, though driving was a very loose term to use in modern New York. "Well just on the outside of town, one of the few rough neighbourhoods left around here."

The black sedan changed lanes with mechanical precision, taking Jenny and Chapel down a lane closer to their exit and around a corner, all handled automatically. The number of cars and other vehicles in New York city had been growing since the invention of the automobile and by the middle twenty first century it was at crisis point. By then fossil fuels had been replaced by far more environmentally friendly fuel cells as the main form of propulsion for cars and most trucks so the vast numbers of cars were not causing a whole lot of pollution, but they were causing immense congestion. After Paris suffered a four day long traffic jam the various automotive companies and city planners finally instigated an urban planning scheme to put all car travel under one central computer, essentially the cars would move by autopilot following sensors laid into the road to get to their destination.

The system had worked fine, and apart from one spectacular pile up in Rio de Janeiro in 2106 it had proven a flawless way of sorting out commuting within city limits. When Jenny and Chapel had arrived at the airport they found the vehicle already waiting for them in the parking lot with the details of their destination already uploaded, all they had to do was turn on the engine and let the cities traffic computer do the rest. In emergencies they could take control of the car themselves overriding the auto drive system and controlling the car just like their great, great grandparents had and most police vehicles were driven the old fashioned way anyhow. The Police could also order a car to divert its path to the nearest police station or shut down entirely if it was stolen, which certainly made catching criminals a lot easier for the boys in blue.

The black car pulled up in a poor looking district, the houses were high rise apartments extending a bout ten storeys high and made of bricks and mortar making them at least twentieth century designs, a world away from the gleaming glass and metal most New Yorkers could afford to live in. Chapel felt no hesitation stepping out of the car, this was a familiar sight to him from the littered remnants of packing crates to the one or two homeless men lying in rags lost in drunken stupor. Some things never changed.

"Corner of Eighteenth street and main." Jenny noticed a sign. "This is it."

"Let's go find some cops." Chapel shut the door to the car, the black sedan was bound to draw some attention but it was parked far enough from their target location that it shouldn't be spotted by their prey and warn him.

"The FBI are set up in the Garner complex." Jenny repeated. "Four blocks in that direction right opposite our suspect."

"Well alrighty then." Chapel said in his gravely voice. "Let's see if our boy Francis really knows his stuff."

When Francis had reported to Director Durban the probable Dilgar origin of the recently intercepted message and its recipient somewhere in New York Chapel had been immediately ordered to head out there with his most trusted aide to bring the suspect in, the problem was narrowing down a city of fifteen million to just one man. They had managed to rule out the greater New York district and the tens of millions living their and over time as Chapel and Jenny had commandeered a HALO jet for the hour long trip to New York from Geneva Francis had been working like a demon to narrow down the recipient to just one location, and from server logs and mail addresses he had finally tracked the activity down to one city block which had been put under immediate surveillance. It had been an incredibly hard task for the young man with a plethora of dead ends and false leads, but he had managed to cut through the mess and have a definitive location for the agents to travel to. That info had been sent to the local law enforcement agencies and a small team of SWAT officers were standing by to move in and deal with the still unknown threat.

The EIA agents arrived at the building and were greeted in the doorway by a man in rough clothes and three days worth of stubble on his face, he looked and even smelt every inch the vagrant he was disguised as, but in truth was a highly skilled surveillance operative working for the FBI. His job was to make sure his friends upstairs remained undisturbed.

"Whoah, whoah there." The dishevelled man sloshed his words like whiskey in a bottle. "Just who the hell are you?"

"Agent Chapel, Agent Sakai." The older man said, Jenny keeping cautiously alert in case it was a trap. "Earth Intelligence Agency."

The vagrant nodded, his glazed look instantly disappearing. "Took your time, we're already set up on the third floor, room three fourteen."

Chapel nodded and lead Jenny in, climbing the wooden stairs up to the third floor.

"Three fourteen." Jenny read their directed room number. She knocked on the door and it was quickly opened by a man in a particularly smart black suit. He gave them a quick look and opened the door wider for them.

"You're the EIA guys?" he asked. "Max on the door said you were on your way up."

Chapel flashed his badge. "So what have you got to tell me?"

There were four agents in the room, three of them were crouched around a bank of fold out monitors balanced on a rickety looking desk. The screens were showing real time video from inside a similar looking scruffy building which Chapel guessed their suspect was hiding in.

"We've sent in bugs to check out the building your guy puts the suspect in." The well dressed FBI man stated. "Basic search protocols, we haven't found anything yet." He took a swig from a cup of cover. "My name's Agent Barker by the way." He shook hands with the two EIA agents. "We've only been here twenty minutes, you came at a good time."

When Barker referred to Electronic bugs he was being surprisingly literal. The surveillance devices his people had deployed were insect sized devices with full audio and visual monitoring ability and a multimode transmitter. As an extra bonus they had their own mechanical legs which let them move from location to location to better scout out a target and gather data. They even looked like spiders or cockroaches to avoid detection from a cursory glance. They were using them to run through cracks in the plasterwork or under doors to check out each room in the targeted building to try and find the suspect.

"So what's so important about this guy?" Barker asked. "We don't usually move on such short notice."

"That's a matter of planetary security Agent." Chapel replied. "Just leave it to us."

The FBI man shrugged. "Fair enough."

"Hey boss, we just lost feed from bug four." One of his people reported.

"Some civilian didn't stand on it did they?" he asked then looked to Chapel. "You'd be surprised how many of these thousand credit devices we lose to irate housewives."

"Looks like a short out." The technician replied. "Just outside room five one four."

"Send one of the other bugs to take over, if it's just an electrical problem we'll pick it up later."

Chapel and Jenny watched quietly as the screen showed a bugs eye view of the little device skittering along the dirty floor of the apartment over the rough and worn carpets until it reached the door where the other bug had failed. It located its companion, found a gap in the door and before it moved two inches it blacked out.

"Dammit, what's wrong with those things?" Barker demanded of the FBI technicians.

"It isn't the Bugs." Chapel interrupted. "It's the room, I'll bet a weeks wages there's an EM field stopping the bugs going in. That's our guy."

"You sure?" Jenny asked quietly.

"Well he's hiding something." Her boss stated. "That's reason enough to go take a look."

"Then we do it." Agent Barker grabbed a microphone. "Team Alpha, room Five Fourteen, you have a go."

Chapel shot him a quick glance. "Wait a minute, who's team Alpha?"

"Our SWAT guy's, they're all set up to storm the building."

"SWAT guys?" Chapel exclaimed. "We don't know who's in there! I put in a call for a Counter Terrorist team!"

Barker was looking a little nervous. "But it's a six man team, these guys know what they're doing." He grabbed the warrant. "We're going after the man who is wanted for murder and computer fraud!"

"What? The guy in there is working for a hostile alien government! If that guy has the sort of training we give our field agents then that SWAT team is dead!" Chapel yelled. "Get some back up over there right now! Jenny, come on, we have to get over there and take that guy in case he is trouble."

The two EIA agents dashed for the door, drawing their concealed PPG pistols on the way.

"You've got thirty seconds, the team has switched off their radios so they aren't detected. I can't call them off!" Barker yelled after them. "Hurry!" he hoped they were going to burst in on an overweight computer hacker and this would all end up in an anti climax, he hadn't even guessed they could be up against a secret agent. "And good luck!"

The computer blinked off as Dar'ro absorbed his latest orders. Warmaster Jha'dur was not known as an easy commander, she expected a lot of those who served her and the latest orders she had given him bordered on the suicidal. Indeed it was his considered opinion that he one chance in a thousand of living past the end of the week, but he wasn't about to defy the Warmaster, even this far away from Dilgar space he was more than a little afraid of her. The information he had just received was proof that Jha'dur was far more informed than even he had guessed, she had given him the timetable and exact schedule for a series of high profile human leaders and ordered him to use the information to capture and interrogate one of the officials to find out exactly where the data recorders from the Earth cruiser Persephone were stored. That ship had fought the Dilgar and Jha'dur was adamant that the information in its recorders would be vital to the Dilgar fleet and a sure way of understanding and countering the Earth warships just in case it came to war.

There had been absolutely no mention of the ships recorders on the Earth information networks and no clues as to where they were being kept, these humans were pretty good at taking security measures. Dar'ro had found the Earth Intelligence central site on the Galaxy net but hadn't even tried to break in, the surface encryption alone was beyond his skills as a hacker. Dar'ro was a Spectre, not a computer warfare specialist, so the fact that Jha'dur had somehow gotten hold of incredibly classified human information told him the Warmaster had greater assets here on Earth than a single Spectre and a Computer delivery service.

A fizzle from the door drew his attention, the EM field generator set up to disable small electronic devices before they crossed his threshold blinked a quick warning light, someone had tried to slip a recording device under his door. He snarled and immediately jumped out of his chair, while another person may dismiss the incident as chance or coincidence never guessing the humans could track him down so quickly Dar'ro was smarter than that. He pulled on his Chameleon suit and his weapons, sadly for him the power packs on a Dilgar pulse pistol would have been rapidly detected even through the stealth suit so he was limited to just knives, which really wasn't much of a handicap for someone with his training.

He had underestimated the security forces, he hadn't even started operations yet and had been run down to his safe house, now his only option was to escape. He triggered the destruct sequence in the computer's memory drive to erase any copies of his orders and then took up a position to the right of the doorway and waited. He guessed the humans had armed men on the way and he wasn't going to be able to sneak past them even with his stealth suit, a corridor full of armed men wasn't going to be easy to sneak past so he would need to disable one or two opponents first. He closed his eyes for a second, held his breath and tensed his muscles.

The door exploded inwards in a shower of splintered wood, swinging with a creak and a snap around on its hinges into the wall, at the same instant in an equally deafening crash the two windows in the main living room also blew in and two black clad men on ropes swung through as two more rushed through the doorway. Both groups had their feet in the apartment before Dar'ro's countermeasures kicked in. normally he would have seeded the room with fletchette launchers and some other nasty shrapnel bombs, but on Earth he had not been able to bring his usual box of tricks with him and had to improvise. The explosive devices were small and home made with no real power, but he had laced them with a bright burning substance used in stun grenades across most of the galaxy.

The room was filled with bright white light and sudden grey smoke, Dar'ro had averted his eyes unlike the human security forces who gasped and stumbled in the disorientating conditions. The Spectre dodged quickly past the two nearest men and out the door, they would be easy marks but he couldn't waste the time killing people who were no threat to him. He stepped out of the smoke and ended up face to face with a man in full black body armour who looked incredibly surprised to see him. Dar'ro guessed the man had never seen a Dilgar before, and certainly wasn't expecting to right now. Dar'ro did not give him time to recover his shock.

With a swift head butt he stunned the police officer, then grabbed his combat webbing and threw him down hard onto the floor, satisfied he wasn't going to be getting up soon enough to catch him. The Spectre quickly relieved the man of his sidearm and spare ammunition, and should have put a bullet through his victims skull, but the human weapon was unfamiliar to him and he didn't have time to learn the basics right now. He was currently up on the fifth floor and had two well scouted routes of escape, the obvious one was straight down the stairs and out one of the doors on the ground floor, obvious enough that the human security forces would have the place covered.

He darted in the opposite direction down the hallway, holding his breath as he ran through the pale smoke and went deeper into the building. Most of the apartments were totally empty, buildings of this condition were actually very common on Omelos, it appeared the citizens of Earth were used to softer surroundings. He had set up an escape route from room five twenty a few doors down from his own, from there he would descend down the fire escape outside the building, activate his suit and fade away from the chaos until it was time to set his plan in progress. He needed no further instructions from the Warmaster and was happiest when working totally alone. He reached the empty apartment and kicked down the door swiftly, he had very little time before the humans recovered.

"Hold it!" a strong female voice yelled, "I will shoot!"

Dar'ro didn't recognize all the words but the intention was pretty clear. He looked to the side to see a young raven haired human emerging from the white smoke pouring out of his old apartment brandishing a small silver gun before her. He dove through the open doorway and rolled over, springing up to his feet as the energy bolts chewed into the doorframe around him. The thrill of the chase never got boring, and with a wide smile born of adrenalin Dar'ro vaulted through the window and continued his escape.

"He's outside!" Jenny yelled into the stunned SWAT officers radio. "Fire escape, right side of the building, I'm on his tail!"

One of the officers staggered out and Jenny quickly relieved him of his sub machine gun and webbing. "I think I'll be needing these more than you will." She said. "Just sit tight, back up is on the way."

She charged down the corridor, made a quick visual check for tripwires and then entered the room the Spectre had escaped through. With a curse she leaned her head out of the window and caught a glimpse of the Dilgar hurtling down the metal stairs. The brief glimpse she had seen was enough for her to immediately identify his species, and by the way he moved she knew he was a professional.

She stepped out onto the fire escape and followed, the metal structure not letting her get a clear shot at the fleeing spy. A Dilgar agent on Earth was a major breach in planetary security and while cutting it off was the main concern, finding out exactly how it had happened was also a very important issue.

Three blue and white Police cars screeched to a halt in front of the building and unloaded two well armed officers each who ran for the building. They wore dark uniforms and an impact proof vest but still wore the same peaked octagonal cap the NYPD had adopted centuries ago. They were also armed with projectile weapons, the newer PPG pistols were not widely accepted outside Earth Force naval command, and in fact most Earth based infantry units still used chemical based slug throwers, though mainly based on liquid rather than solid propellant.

"You two, head upstairs." Chapel caught the officers on the street. "Secure the crime scene, help your guys, touch absolutely nothing!"

The two young looking cops quickly headed inside. "You two, clear this street, we might have a very dangerous man coming this way, while you two…"

Chapel didn't finish his sentence, he was distracted by a dark shape stumbling out of a side alley onto the street. "That's him! Shoot the bastard!"

Chapel didn't even bother giving a warning, it wasn't really his style. He tended to believe a threat to Earth only ended when the source of that threat was no longer breathing, it was a ruthless streak which had helped him become Durban's most trusted assistant, the man he went to whenever he needed something special taking care of. Like this.

The Spectre dropped behind a parked car as PPG fire lashed the ground beside him followed by a fusillade of bullets from the NYPD plinking and clunking into the body work of the car. Its glass shattered and rained on the Spectre as he crouched behind his cover, a tire blowing out a few inches from him slashing his thigh with hard rubber debris.

"Surround him!" Chapel ordered to the cops. "Quick, if you get a shot take it!"

The Spectre ran out from cover into the middle of the road, dodging past a speeding car and getting clipped by a yellow cab. Its computerised systems slammed on the breaks as soon as the sensors spotted the danger but it wasn't quite quick enough and the Dilgar agent spun to the floor beside the cab.

"Oh man!" the cabbie opened his door. "You okay buddy? I didn't see ya there, it was an accident!"

"Get in the cab!" Chapel yelled and ran towards him. "Get in and lock the damn door!"

"Great, cops too." The cabbie muttered and raised his hands. "I didn't see him, he just…"

A powerful hand grabbed the man and drove his face into the open car door, then hurled the stunned man out of the way. The Spectre jumped into the still running car and floored the accelerator screeching away with a stink of burning rubber. Chapel put more rounds into it as it passed by but none seemed to slow it down.

"Son of a bitch!" his normally calm exterior exploded into rage.

"What happened?" Jenny came skidding to a halt beside him.

"The guy got wheels." He pointed at the disappearing cab. "And I kinda think he looked like a Dilgar."

"He was, now come on." Jenny darted back towards the house. "He's getting away!"

Chapel followed her as she jumped into one of the NYPD cars and entered her EIA identi-card. The average vehicle was programmed only to accept the identity card of its owner instead of the old fashioned ignition keys, though most cars could usually be programmed with any number of cards for family and friends of the vehicles owner. The Police and law enforcement identity cards however could override the system if needed allowing government operatives to commandeer vehicles, and of course the EIA cards could be used on any human built vehicle, even ones the police cards could not start like Battletanks. Not that Jenny had ever needed something quite so impressive. The car activated as Chapel slid into the passenger seat and closed the door.

"Take this." Jenny handed him the sub machine gun. "I'll try and get you a shot."

She revved the engine and reversed out into the road. Flicking on the sirens as she did so.

"Wait, when did you take the pursuit driving course?" Chapel asked.

"When I joined, yeah I know I should have had a refresher six months ago but I was in space."

"But you do remember how to do this right?"

"Can't be that hard, I mean I have done this before."

"Really?" Chapel frowned. "When?"

"Okay never, just hang on."

She dropped the accelerator and pushed them both into their seats as she skidded off down the road, slid around a corner and powered away as fast as she could manage.

Chapel regained enough composure to activate the police cars internal computer systems. "Do you see him?"

"Not yet." Jenny said, totally focused on the road. "Looks like he's heading in town."

Chapel grabbed the car's radio and thumbed it on. "NYPD central this is Victor Chapel, EIA badge number two two nine seven, do you hear me."

After a brief pause there was an answer. "Confirmed Agent Chapel, we have your identity."

"I'm err, borrowing one of your cars. We're in pursuit of a terrorist suspect driving a yellow cab, licence number Eight, One, Eight, five, Six. We request you locate the car on the city grid and shut him down."

"Roger that." the accented female voice replied from police central. "Scanning now."

"If we can shut the guy down and lock the car doors we'll be able to take him alive." Jenny said.

"Unless he has a suicide pill." Chapel added. "Let's just focus on making him not a danger to people, whatever that takes."

"I'll go for that." she swung around another corner forcing Chapel to lean against the turn or fall over.

"You wanna warn me before ting like that, I got a gun here you know."

"Sorry boss." Jenny said. "Hey, put up the HUD, I think we got something."

Chapel switched on the windscreen display projecting a green transparent image in front of the driver, this particular one showed a map of the local area with its familiar grid pattern and a highlighted red dot.

"That's our guy." Chapel recognized. "Got to be, the feed is coming in from the city's monitor satellite."

"Agent Chapel." The radio crackled into tinny life again. "We've located the car but can't shut it down, looks like the automated system has been disconnected."

"How would he know how to do that?" Jenny scowled. "I don't like this guy, he's too smart."

"Sounds like he's being getting help." Chapel guessed.

"We've cleared the road ahead of the suspect." The police controller said. "And we have air units and more cars on the way."

"Understood control, thanks for the help." He switched off the radio. "Alright Jen, what are you waiting for?"

She threw the car around another corner. "You wanna say something about my driving?"

Chapel chuckled. "Not a thing." He cocked the machine gun and wound down the window. "Just get me close enough to put a bullet in the back of that guy's skull."

The flung the police car down and empty road, the streets automatically cleared of traffic as a precaution put into effect by the city's traffic computer. The flashing lights and wailing siren drew onlookers from the tall buildings around as they headed further into the city replacing the older and poorer surroundings with the massive structures of the central city.

"Got a visual." Jenny reported. "Up ahead, Yellow Cab."

Chapel squinted and saw the movement in the distance far down the clean open road between the tall sky scrapers. "Gotta be him, no other vehicles are moving."

The cab screeched around a corner, knocking over a mail box in a flurry of fluttering paper before driving further into the heart of New York.

"Well he drives like a cabby." Chapel remarked.

"I want to know how a Dilgar figured out how to drive one of our cars." Jenny stated as her hands grappled the wheel and made the same turn the cab had. "He can't have been here that long, he must have had a crash course."

"Hopefully we'll gather something from his apartment."

"How about trying to take this guy alive?"

Chapel shook his head. "Too risky, they guy is a serious menace to public health. We shoot to kill." He gripped the gun he carried tighter. "we'll track down his helpers with a bit of old fashioned detective work, I'm sure your new boyfriend can help with that."

Jenny actually glanced at him before fixing her eyes back on the road. "My what?"

"Come on, you haven't noticed how Francis follows you around whenever he can?" Chapel laughed a little. "Kinda cute really."

"We're friends, seriously."

"Well tell him that, it's obvious even to me." He craned his neck to get a better view. "Looks like we're closing."

"We better be, these cop cars are supposed to be well tuned machines." Jenny commented. "It'd be embarrassing to be out run by a yellow cab."

"Just keep with it." Chapel said and then held the gun out of the window, leaning his head and shoulder out after it. "And for heavens sake watch out for sign posts on this side, I'd like to keep my head for a while longer."

"Spoil me chances of promotion." She grinned, focusing on the car ahead now just a few yards away.

Chapel lined up the shot and pulled the trigger, a hot blast of lead bullets impacting the back of the Spectre's cab. Black holes and tiny flashes of red sparks scattered across the cab and it swerved left and right throwing off Chapels aim. He cursed loudly and fired again.

The Cab pulled another sharp turn to the left giving Jenny just a second to react. "Hang on!" she yelled as she flung over the wheel, Chapel had to cease fire and hold on tight as she swung around the car, its rear wheels skidding and spinning around as she kept the front wheels pointed at the cab. With a growl the engine powered the car onwards and the fishtailing rear lined up again in the direction of travel right behind the Spectre.

Chapel remembered to breath and exhaled in relief. "Damn that was good, I'll never joke about women drivers again."

The cab turned again this time down a narrow side street between two massive buildings, scraping it's side down one wall. Jenny followed with more precision keeping the police car straight down the centre of the road, its sirens echoing across the high walls. It was too narrow for Chapel to lean out of the window so he sat down again in annoyance.

"He's heading for Manhatten." Jenny pointed out.

"An island?" Chapel glared. "What the hell kind of escape plan is that?"

"I dunno, but we better make sure the NYPD is blocking the bridges."

"I'll get on the radio, you stay with him."

The Spectre bounced around a corner and took a sharp turn, Jenny keeping up close with him. It didn't look like there was going to be an easy way to stop the chase with the auto shutdown disabled and the car's fuel cells good for a few thousand miles before they needed recharging they were going to need a more direct method of dealing with the runaway cab. Two more police cars finally joined the chase, falling in behind Jenny and keeping pace with her lead. A fourth police car came from nowhere and skidded to a halt right in front of the Spectre, the officers quickly jumping out and taking aim at the car. Dar'ro did not slow down, and after a moments hesitation the officers opened fire, smashing the front windscreen and headlights with their handguns. The cab hurtled on, and the two officers had to dive aside when they realised the Spectre wasn't going to stop. The cab smashed into the back of the police car close to the rear axle and sent the blue and white vehicle spinning out of the way, its rear a tangled mess. Dar'ro lost some speed but managed to keep control and continued through the empty streets of New York.

"Determined little scumbag isn't he?" Chapel changed magazines on his sub machine gun.

"Well trained little scumbag." Jenny grimaced.

"Alright, no more screwing around, bring me along side and I'll end this." Chapel cocked the gun and chambered a fresh round. "Guy's making me angry."

The cars raced through the city, walkways above street level were crammed with office workers and passers by craning their necks to get a glimpse of the spectacle. Crime wasn't exactly rare in New York though it was uncommon, but a high speed Police chase almost never happened and that was drawing a lot of onlookers. The yellow cab was beat up with a mangled front and long scrapes and dents on either side from where Dar'ro had slightly misjudged his turning ability, but for a first time behind the wheel he was doing shockingly well. The Earth built cars shared a lot in common with Dilgar vehicles and while the specifics were different the performance and the principles were largely the same and that gave Dar'ro enough to work with. His pursuers were not giving up and their high performance cars were almost on top of him, and he was still not close to his planned escape route.

Jenny dropped in beside the cab, flooring the accelerator and putting its engine into the red for a quick burst to over take Dar'ro. She whizzed past and ended up with her right rear bumper at Dar'ro's front left fender, a dangerous position which was begging the Spectre to try and fishtail the cop car but she was gambling he wouldn't have time. As she pulled past Chapel leaned out with a perfect point blank shot through the cabs windscreen just feet away from the driver. He smiled widely and pulled the trigger.

The Spectre performed a handbrake turn and ducked, bullets shredding the head rest to his driving seat and sending parts of the already broken window ricocheting around the cars interior, lacerating his back. He turned a hundred and eighty degrees in two seconds then once again set off driving now in the opposite direction, going head to head with the two police cars trying to keep up with Jenny. The EIA agent herself was reacting almost as quick as the Spectre slewing her own vehicle around with a stink of burnt rubber and acrid smoke, all the time she was turning Chapel kept his finger on the trigger shifting his balance with the car and keeping a stream of rounds on the cab, none of it apparently working. The screech of the tires and whine of the usual quiet engine was deafening and forced him to grit his teeth.

The Police were taught never to play chicken in a pursuit and split left and right passing either side of Dar'ro in a flash, one of them losing it's wing mirror. They skidded to a halt and turned around as Jenny drove rapidly by and once again began to follow the Dilgar agent.

"Next time you drive and I'll shoot." Jenny scorned. "How could you miss?"

"Hey, this isn't easy you know?" Chapel defended. "You watch too many movies."

"This is central." A tinny voice spoke from nowhere. "Suspect heading to the docks, air units heading there."

"Still heading towards Manhattan." Jenny mused. "You'd think he'd head out of town and lie low."

"Yeah, doesn't seem like the kind of guy stupid enough to cut himself off."

Jenny kept her eyes on the cab, following it's every twist and turn through the new city as the Spectre drove towards the older waterfront district. Manhattan island had been preserved since the middle twenty first century as a site of national and then global heritage, the last new building there was the Freedom towers until the UN had collapsed. The old UN building on the Hudson had then been replaced by the massive 10k tower, but most of the waterfront had been preserved and in many places restored to its appearance of the Nineteenth and Twentieth centuries as a living museum, along with a small collection of historic warships and early air and space craft. As far as Jenny could tell it was a dead end.

"Mall ahead." Jenny stated, indicating a large building with a wide open ground floor.

"No way is he going to do that." Chapel grimaced.

"I think he is." Jenny watched as the Spectre did not slow down despite the road ending and the mall beginning just in front of him. "Alright, I'm following him in."

"Crap." Chapel leaned in away from the window. "I hate shopping."

The yellow cab bounced on the curb, hit the ground and then ploughed through the glass doorway of the mall and into the concourse scattering bright reflective shards around it. Jenny was close behind, siren still screaming as they entered the mall crunching and flinging up tiny shards of glass. Fortunately the shoppers had all moved higher up in the building to get a good view of the chase and the concourse was deserted which was extremely lucky as the Spectre was not being careful with his driving. He skidded on the polished floor leaving thick black tyre marks down the concourse and pulled another hand brake turn as the pathway turned to the right. Jenny stayed with him, but for the time being there wasn't much else she could do. The Spectre shattered an abandoned hot dog stand into matchwood and smashed through a seating area which would usually have been full of diners, throwing chairs and benches dozens of feet into the air and banging off the walls and food stalls.

"He's heading for the exit." Jenny noticed.

"Good." Chapel prepared his gun again. "Maybe I can take out a tyre or something, send him spinning out of control and explode into a fireball."

"Pretty." Jenny grunted as the car slid on some detritus. "I hope we don't have to pay for this."

"Once in a while its fun just to smash things." Chapel quickly suppressed a smile. "Or so I've heard."

The Yellow cab emerged in a storm of glass and crossed the road, smashing through a chain link fence and finding itself in the dockland area. Dar'ro swung the wheel and began racing along the waterfront which was still used for offloading cargo, massive steel crates and cranes littered the docks making the driving especially difficult. Dar'ro did not slow down.

Jenny held her breath as her own car skidded into position, coming just inches from sliding off the dock and into the river. She counted her blessings and drove on, the cars engine handling the incredible punishment well and the wheels still maintaining traction. The cab on the other hand was in a poor condition and looked like it had lost half its body work through impacts or dozens of bullet holes. It was amazing that thing was still going, the manufacturer would probably use it as some sort of advertisement for reliability.

She dodged around a shipping container and entered an open stretch of dockyard.

"I think this is going to be as good as it gets." She announced.

"Fine, try and get closer." Chapel opened the window again and leaned out with his borrowed weapon. "What I'd give for a grenade launcher."

The Police car edged forward at high speed, there was very little room for error with crates to their right and the river to their left. Chapel didn't have that many rounds left, and he doubted his PPG would be any more effective than the police weapon, so decided to for the wheels and cause the Spectre to lose control which at this speed and on the docks should be fatal. The machine gun chattered again, smoking brass casings disappearing as they were ejected and caught in the rushing air. The metal around the cabs wheel arches were punched through with barely audible plinks until finally Chapel got two solid rounds on target and blew out the rear tyre.

At this speed the cabs wheel virtually exploded throwing out debris in every direction. The car's auto drive system would have compensated for the blow out and brought the car to a safe halt, but Dar'ro had deactivated it to prevent the security forces overriding his controls. The back of the car slid out of control, sparks leaping up from the now bare metal wheel rims as it quickly lost speed.

"Holy…" Chapel quickly sat back down and with surprising speed fastened his seat belt as Jenny slammed on the brakes, but she had misjudged the distance but just a few inches and the wildly swerving cab smashed into the Police cars nose sending it skidding to the left away from the water.

"Do these things have airbags?" Jenny yelled above the screaming brakes.

"The your side does, I dunno about…"

Chapels words died as all the air was bashed from his lungs, the Police car hit a coil of massively thick mooring wires from a docked freighter and launched itself into the air, the view through the windscreen turning entirely blue except for the odd cloud, it was almost abstract to see such captivating beauty in a moment of abject terror. The view soon changed from blue sky to grey floor as the car returned to earth with a sickening crunch and cartwheeled over onto its roof, finally silencing the damn siren.

Jenny blinked, her eyes were watering and she guessed she must have banged her head. Her view was filled by a slowly deflating airbag. "Vic, you still with me?"

"Ow." Answered Chapel. "I think I'll take back that praise about women drivers."

"Well we're both kind of alive, so I'd like to see you do better." She winced a little as she suddenly realized the car was upside down. "Damn that was a chase. Think we made the news?"

"Lets get out of here." Chapel braced himself and undid his seat belt. "We need to secure the suspect, or what's left of him."

The two agents dropped from their chairs stiffly and crawled out of the inverted vehicle, broken class and scarred concrete laced with blue paint showing where the car had hit and slid to a stop. The car was well built and while the body work was a mess the hard frame was intact which prevented Chapel and Jenny being crushed by the roof crumpling in. along with the air bags the two partners had escaped with just cuts and bruises. Safety features on modern vehicles were virtually perfect.

"Did you see where he went?" Chapel asked taking in deep breaths of the frigid and slightly salty air drifting in from the Atlantic.

"Too busy praying and being airborne." Jenny replied drawing her PPG. "I don't think he went in the river though."

The two agents headed back to where the collision had happened, moving swiftly between the crates and barriers. In the distance a distant whining grew louder and louder indicating the imminent arrival of a Police VTOL jet, a civilian version of the basic Earth Force transport jet.

"Here are the skid marks." Chapel found. "We went right, looks like he went straight on."

She followed the trail with her eyes, searching between the crates and containers for clues. She spotted a streak of yellow paint on one container indicating a collision and a sprinkling of glass thrown out by the cab. "He's down there somewhere."

With a shrill whine the two following Police cars finally arrived, having taken a detour around the shopping Mall rather than going through it. The EIA was much looser in what it let it's agents get away with than the city authorities were, the Police would pursue but were not allowed to actually ram or shoot at a criminal or do anything which could endanger the public. The cars formed a makeshift road block pulling up at the edge of the dock while the officers piled out and drew their sidearms.

"You guys cover us!" Chapel shouted. "Stop anyone who tries to come past!"

The VTOL swung into position overhead, looking down between the maze of containers for the missing cab. Its engine mounts swivelled as it switched to hover mode funnelling hot air into a downward pillar which was surprisingly efficient. The engines were extremely efficient and had an integrated cooling system which made them both quiet and reduced their environmental impact allowing the police to operate them in cities. The modifications gave them less raw power than their Earth Force sisters but they were considered more than adequate for civilian use.

"Agent Chapel!" one of the officers shouted. "Air unit say's they have the car, it's just on the far end of the dock hidden behind a container!"

"What are they packing?" Chapel called back. "On the gunship, what are they armed with?"

"Two SWAT guys with machine guns!"

"Tell them to cover us, we're checking it out!" Chapel gestured at Jenny. "Ready?"

"Yeah, lets get it over with."

The agents darted forward with a few feet separating them. They moved quickly and quietly keeping as low a profile as they could. The VTOL held its position a few dozen feet above them over the water, the marksmen inside training their military issue assault rifles on the cab.

Jenny froze as a shape emerged from the edge of the docks, the twisted and wrecked form of the yellow cab. Chapel stopped beside her and charged his pistol. "Go for the driver." He said. "No second chances this time."

The cab lurched forward as its engine gunned, the steel rimmed wheel sparking as the car fought for traction and raced forward heading for the Agents and the small road block. Both of them opened fire ending searing bolts into the drivers side with unerring accuracy, at the same time the SWAT officers in the VTOL opened up with their assault rifles ripping into the cab with tremendous force and speed. The back of the car exploded in flames as one of the fuel cells burst open and the vehicle spun out of control, smashing into a freight container before leaving the dock. It sailed through the air for a second before colliding with the red hull of a transport ship and finally exploding, dropping into the river with a loud hiss and cloud of steam.

"You think that did it?" Jenny wondered.

"Until I see a body we keep this case open." Chapel grimaced. "Well, parts of a body at least."

"Smoky, fried and I guess now soggy." She remarked staring at the dissipating cloud of steam from the burning vehicle now heading for the bottom of the Hudson.

The officers from the road block ran up to join them staring in shock at the noticeable dent in the side of the container ship where the car had hit. "Damn, no one's walking away from that."

"I want you to seal off this whole dock." Chapel said remembering he still had his PPG drawn. "And get some divers out here, I need that car out of the drink before night fall."

"I'll get on it."

He turned to Jenny. "I'll handle things here, you get one of these cops to take you back to the apartment, any evidence or clues crate them up and send them back to the base."

"I doubt he left much, this guy seemed like he knew what he was doing."

"Maybe, but anything that catches your eye send it to our people, I don't want NYPD messing up something. Especially if its booby trapped."

Jenny sighed. "And the fun just keeps coming."

Chapel chuckled a little. "Could be worse, at least we aren't down there." He nodded at the river. "Now lets just make sure the bad guy is."

"I don't fancy another chase." Jenny stretched a little, the car crash was not a pleasant experience. "Next time we come across an alien Agent I'll just shoot him in the head, save us all a lot of trouble."

"Now you're learning." Chapel grinned. "Okay, get lost. Grab a radio and let me know how it goes, they should have a bomb squad waiting for you."

"Maybe we can figure out what this guy was doing here." Jenny started walking away. "That's the million credit question."

"Well I can live without knowing just so long as he's dead." The senior agent said. "But this guy wasn't alone, so now we have to find his buddies before they can do some damage."

From the edge of a container Dar'ro watched the humans talk, his stealth suit shielding him from their eyes and from the heat imagers on the aircraft hovering nearby. The electronic item he had been provided with to override the cars security system had also given him very limited remote control of its steering and engine, enough to make this little ruse to buy him a little escape time. It wouldn't take long for them to find he wasn't in the vehicle, but by then he would be long gone and ready to carry out his orders. With a cruel smile he melted into the shadows and vanished like a ghost.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 38

Yonog Star system,

Dilgar Occupied space.

Jha'dur registered the long beep of the incoming transmission precisely on time, it's shrill tone filling her opulent quarters. She had often wondered if her room should be so luxuriant with padded chairs, a huge bed and a wealth of decorations when the majority of her warriors had little more than a simple bunk and if they were luck gravity. She had decided that while their may be points to be gained by living the same Spartan lifestyle as her crew that was the wrong way to do things. She didn't need to be equal of sympathetic to her crew, she had to set an example and she did that by winning battles. So long as the war was won she doubted her crew would give two thoughts to her lifestyle, just her ability to kill the enemy efficiently.

"Warmaster, you requested a wake up call at this time." Captain An'jash's familiar voice flowed from the speakers.

"Thank you Captain." Jha'dur had been awake for at least an hour revising her notes. As she had slept an inspiration had struck her and she immediately leapt up and began jotting it down on a simple paper notebook, something of an anachronism in a world of data crystals and computers but Jha'dur had refused to substitute her trusted journals. Her recent studies of Hyach brain tissue had kindled something in her mind and it wasn't until that moment she realized what it was, both Hyach and Abbai brains had a very similar set of bio-chemical receptors embedded deep inside, something which she couldn't discern a clear use for. Evolution did not create useless functions in living beings, and the mystery of this section of brain had driven her to scribble down any idea that crossed her jumbled mind.

"Warmaster, we have fifteen minutes until the rendezvous, are there any extra orders?"

"No Captain, hold course and alert status, I will be on the bridge presently."

"Yes Warmaster." An'jash said and cut the channel.

Jha'dur took one more look at her book and the hastily scrawled notes. There was something hidden in there, something important and unusual. She would find it, but not just yet, first of all she had war's business to attend to. She stood from her desk, stretched her back in a long inverted arch and then headed for a shower and her neatly pressed uniform.

Precisely fourteen minutes later she stepped through the grinding armoured doors onto her command bridge, the relatively large oval room filled with technicians and tacticians all busying themselves under the Warmasters scrutiny. The crew of her flagship was handpicked and as far as she was concerned the right balance between skill and determination. Not as fanatical and hot headed as a lot of Dilgar officers tended to be, but ice cold in battle and calculating. To her mind that was worth more than pure courage or belief.

"Operations report Captain." She said by way of announcing her presence. She didn't care if people leapt to attention when she walked into a room, such displays of control were meaningless to her when compared to the true power she could wield. Len'char made people salute him at all times in all circumstances, something Jha'dur considered to be a sign of deep insecurity. Len'char was not the man he used to be.

"The fleet is holding at defence condition two." An'jash reported formally. "I can report the pacification mission to Yonog is almost complete, the Hyach who did not evacuate before our arrival have been removed."

"Removed?" Jha'dur asked. "Do you mean rounded up and killed?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Then say what you mean Captain. There is no shame in killing our defeated enemies, it is the only way our world will expand and our destiny be assured. We are soldiers, we kill for a living. Tell the orbital units well done from me, the pacification is ahead of schedule."

"As you wish Warmaster."

"And I want to try and rotate some ships back to Omelos for rest, at least half the fleet." Jha'dur commented. "We won't need them for at least a month, and it's sometimes good to remind our warriors what they are fighting for."

A series of tones announced the expected build up of energy. "Jump points forming, over three hundred."

"He even made it on time, I'm impressed." The Warmaster smiled.

Across the system blue points of lights rippled open and sunk into vortexes unfolding from hyperspace. Each point disgorged a small group of warships centred on a heavy cruiser or dreadnought which had opened the jump point, in Dilgar service only the largest ships had jump engines and for most vessels they were considered uneccessary luxuries, the power and space they would take up being used for more guns or a hangar bay. Anything that detracted from the offensive abilities of their ships was a simple waste of space or power.

It was an impressive sight, a glorious sight for Jha'dur to watch unfolding. It showed just how much power the Dilgar could wield and how far they had come so quickly. Even the biggest powers in the galaxy would be cowed by such a sight, and the fleet entering the system was barely a fifth of the Dilgar navy. The days of the Imperium being dismissed as a small isolated group were over, they were now firmly emplaced as one of the great forces in the galaxy.

"Dreadnought Conqueror is on channel One Warmaster." An'jash reported with a faint smile.

"Open communications."

The screen by her chair activated to show her brother. "Greetings Warmaster Jha'dur."

She suppressed an amused laugh. "Greetings Warmaster Sha'dur."

He smiled on the other ship. "It's good to see you again sister, I heard about that stunt you tried to pull at Sri-shaba. Better luck next time."

"The Hyach aren't going anywhere, not with our guard fleet emplaced." She tilted her head. "Plenty of time to kill them later, and I guarantee it will take them a long time to die. I detest it when people interfere with my plans." Her eyes grew hard for a moment before the anger drifted away. Anger held too much emotion to be useful to her, especially as a military leader.

"I can report the Brakiri front is stable, they have virtually no military left and one more assault would surely finish them."

Jha'dur could read his mind. "You're not going to lead another attack, they still have a decent defence grid and it would cost us more ships than it is worth. Leave them bottled up and helpless, we have other targets to attack."

"I don't like leaving the job unfinished." Sha'dur stated.

"The Brakiri are doomed, you've cut off their ice mining operations from orbit, without it their population is to large to sustain with natural ground water. Brakir will die of thirst and the Brakiri race will kill itself over what resources are left." She smiled at the thought, nothing amused her more than races fighting when they should be working together. "Then a single ship can clean up whatever is left. We have more important business, meet me over here in half an hour, we have a lot to discuss."

"Of course Sister, Conqueror out."

"Captain An'jash, you have the Bridge." Jha'dur rose. "Work out a schedule for rotating our hardest fought ships back to Omelos for some shore leave."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Our next targets are unlikely to put up much of a fight, if you need me I'll be in the briefing room."

Thirty minutes later the two Warmasters had occupied the main briefing room deep in the heart of the warship. The room was empty except for the two senior officers and the lights were dimmed down low. At the centre of the room was a white illuminated table with an embedded holographic projector hidden inside it.

"I heard the battle for Brakir turned into a hard grind." Jha'dur commented as her brother stood beside her. "You did well to maintain control of your forces."

"I just remembered what you advised, I kept my plan flexible and exploited opportunities." Sha'dur answered. "And the feigned retreat tactic proved very useful."

"Those skills are going to be needed again soon, we're going to be continuing the drive rimwards." Jha'dur activated the holograph to show the local sector. "With the Hyach and Brakiri removed as threats there is nothing to threaten our flanks. We will drive a spike into the heart of the League, separating each power as we go until every world is under our dominion."

"What is the assessment on enemy forces?" her brother asked.

"They are weak and divided." Jha'dur smiled. "If they unite they are still powerful enough to threaten us but fear will keep them apart, along with paranoia and distrust of each other. Beside the Vree and possibly the Yolu, intelligence does not forsee any major resistance."

Sha'dur scoffed. "Intelligence, you mean Len'char? I don't think I'll take his word for it."

She smiled, glad to see her brother was learning to think like a political animal as well as a war leader. "Good, don't trust any evidence until you see it with your own eyes. Len'char failed to take into account the Cascor military, from my research they are a brave and fearless people with a sizeable force."

"Which Len'char just missed?"

"Or decided not to warn us about perhaps." Jha'dur mused. "If we were to be killed in battle he wouldn't shed a tear."

"He'd throw a party. He knows we are loyal to the Supreme Warmaster and he wants that job. He knows we'd kill him first."

"Yes we would." Nodded Jha'dur. "Though I might do that for amusement anyway. But to get back on topic, assaulting the Cascor will require both our battlefleets, that is why I recalled you from Brakir. I suggest you rotate your ships back home for shore leave, get them fresh and ready before we go into battle. I'll do the same with my fleet."

"So what happens next?"

"We hit the next two targets on the list, Krish and Mitoc." She altered the display to show two worlds, a list of data floating beside them.

"We're going to hit them while half our fleets are resting?" Sha'dur did not sound confident.

"Trust me brother even that would be overkill." She highlighted the planet Krish first. "I ordered my own intelligence scan of the area, sending in scout ships just before I visited the Hyach. The data on these worlds is accurate and not tainted by Len'chars vain ambitions, we could take them both with a single squadron."

Sha'dur looked closely at the hologram of the world, his sisters face slightly visible on the other side. "What defences do they have?"

"None." Jha'dur said. "And I mean that literally, they have no military whatsoever."

"They must have something, no race is totally defenceless."

"This one is. I had my best team double check the results." Jha'dur grinned widely. "No warships, no orbital platforms, no planetary guns, no army, no standing groups of armed warriors at all. They are pacifist to the ultimate degree."

"Why haven't they been invaded before now?" her Brother asked.

"They have treaties with the Vree, it was enough to keep most races off their doorstep. However I think we've seen that the treaties signed between League worlds are not worth the paper they were dribbled on. There are no Vree ships in this area of space, the Krish are as isolated as the other Empires."

"Seems too easy."

Jha'dur shrugged. "Sometimes fortune favours us."

"Krish are birds aren't they?" Sha'dur asked.

"They are, you read the notes I sent you on the League?" she half smiled.

"Know your enemy." He smiled back. "If it worked for you I thought it was worth trying."

Jha'dur laughed a little before returning to the briefing. "As an avian species their biology is notably different to any of the other races we've encountered, it will be fascinating to trace their evolution." Her excitement was thinly concealed, the chance to study a new race, especially one so different was a great opportunity for the Scientist inside her. It didn't even register that this child like joy at discovering something new would be born of the most heinous and horrific acts of torture as she dissected living and thinking creatures alive. It simply didn't alarm her consciousness. "There should be no difficulty in acquiring samples."

"What complete fools." Sha'dur scoffed. "We'll be doing the galaxy a favour getting rid of them, waste of a good planet."

"Don't be so scornful brother." Jha'dur cautioned. "Their belief in pacifism was strong enough to stop them from arming, strong enough to ensure almost complete peace throughout their evolution and even up into space even knowing the threats that exist out here. They are naïve, but that sort of conviction should not be mocked. In their way they are as strong as us, just not nearly as practical."

"Or as long lived." Sha'dur chuckled. "Exterminating them will be childsplay."

Jha'dur raised her hand. "No, we don't wipe them all out immediately, our orders are to use minimum force in dealing with them. High command wants the planet intact."

"Intact?" Sha'dur stepped back in realisation. "They think it could be our new colony?"

"Or our new home." She saw the depth of the realisation. "One of these two worlds, perhaps both."

Sha'dur's attitude immediately changed as he turned over the new possibility in his head. The highest priority of the Dilgar had been finding a world which fitted a very specific pattern, for while his people could if necessary settle on any of the conquered worlds it would be far easier if they could move into one with a minimum of destruction and violence.

"Your recon missions looked promising?"

Jha'dur nodded. "Look at the location, nearly central in League space a dozen light years from any of the major powers, a perfect buffer zone we can ring with steel and warships. Geographically these worlds are perfect, a secure and highly defensible location."

"And if the natives don't put up a fight…" Sha'dur started.

"…We don't have to bomb them all to hell." His sister finished. "That was the problem with the Abbai and Hyach homeworlds, or with Alaca and Balos. The climate was fine, resources adequate, but their defences were such that in taking those worlds we would have destroyed most of their infrastructure, something which would take years to rebuild. Time we do not have."

"But with no armed resistance on Krish we can move straight into orbit and deploy biological weapons, killing the inhabitants but leaving their homes and factories for our people." Sha'dur grinned widely. "You have no idea what good news this is!"

"It's great news." She smiled, sharing the moment of joy. "You will secure Krish, I'll take care of Mitoc."

"What is Mitoc like?" Sha'dur wondered.

"Much the same in advancement, the Mitoc are more militaristic, they have some concept of warfare and a defence fleet of a few dozen Frigates." Jha'dur recalled with her precise memory. "It might take an extra ten seconds to subdue this world." She smiled coldly, she appreciated bravery in her opponents but still liked to win, and this promised to be an easy victory.

"What happens next?"

"The council and the Supreme Warmaster will evaluate the two worlds and decide which will be home. Then they'll move in the first colonists on the exact same day."

"They move fast." The male noted.

"We're on a timetable." Jha'dur shrugged. "I expect they will be engineers to adapt the native infrastructure to our own needs, build munitions factories and orbital defences, that sort of thing."

Sha'dur exhaled. "We'll never get all of our people off Omelos before the disaster arrives. You do realise that."

She nodded slowly. "If the war goes to Schedule and ends this year, and we can redeploy our full assets to evacuating the population, then I estimate we can move at most two billion people."

"Two billion," Sha'dur grimaced. "Out of eight billion on the whole world?"

"It will be enough to assure the viability of our race." Jha'dur answered. "We take the best Omelos has to offer, the youngest, brightest and strongest of our race and leave the rest. We'll have worlds full of slaves to provide our labour force and an empire full of resources."

"But three quarters of our people will die."

"Better than all of them." She replied curtly. "And better to save those who will be most productive in the future Imperium. We analysed all the options years ago, we explored altering our star or bleeding off plasma, none of it worked. Our world is doomed Brother, and because of it so is the rest of the galaxy." She looked at the display. "Omelos will burn, but not before the rest of the League is ash. You don't have to believe in destiny to understand that we have to conquer to survive."

"I know sister, I know." Sha'dur sighed. "It just seems so, well, unfair."

Jha'dur broke out in laughter, surprising her brother. "Unfair?" she chortled. "Well I suppose that's one way to look at it." Her face grew cold again. "The universe doesn't deal in fairness Sha'dur, it does not reward the meek." She switched off the image of Mitoc. "It does not protect the peaceful." Krish vanished into darkness. "It doesn't care for the lives of its denizens or the fate we make for each other. We are alone, masters of our own destiny, and masters of those weaker than us. Nothing more, nothing less. And that my brother is enough for me."

Sha'dur did not move, he wasn't ready to face what was waiting in store for his people, most still blissfully ignorant of the treachery of their sun. He didn't want to confront the consequences of what was going to happen, he would much rather live in the moment and did not envy his sister. Jha'dur was planning far ahead, and it was clear she had accepted the fate that awaited them and had been trying to see beyond it to the survival of their race.

That knowledge had fundamentaly changed her, something subtle but growing. It had taken years to manifest itself, and the stress and responsibility of command seemed to have been the trigger which brought it to the surface, but he could see her growing more distant and less caring, even to her own people.

"Return to your ship." She said. "Gather the supplies you need, then we will move on our targets."

"Of course." The prospect of a quick victory cheered him somewhat. "And may the gods grant us luck."

"The gods?" Jha'dur scoffed. "They never did anything for the Dilgar, but you and I will. We will bring our people life from death, and one day perhaps we can even bring them immortality." She smiled. "What god could match that?"

Sha'dur nodded. "To Victory, sister."

"On to victory my Brother." She smiled warmly. "We are the only ones Gar'shan trusts with the future of our people, never forget that." She switched off the holographic displays and opened the briefing room door. "We are the future of the Dilgar, without us, our people die. Never forget that." She looked at him with an intense sincerity he had rarely seen before, and it startled him. "We are the future."

Geneva.

Earth

"Mr O'Leary." Agent Leung smiled cheerfully. "I have a job for you, come and join me in the lab please."

Francis stood from his corner of the office and followed his department head. For the last couple of days he'd been working non stop trying to back trace the Dilgar signal and get an exact location for its origin. He had given the field teams enough data to almost capture the alien agent, but until a new clue surfaced he was trying to see if he could tap into any future communications that might be sent to the man on Earth. The entire agencies data and digital warfare teams were working on similar themes and the building was filled with an intense atmosphere as hundreds of people gave it their full and dedicated effort.

"What is it sir?" Francis wondered, guessing it must be quite important to drag him away.

"Agent Chapel sent over some equipment from New York, electronic items recovered from the alien agents apartment." Leung lead him through to the secure labs, heavy doors with encoded locks keeping people out. "We'll need to wear anti static suits, the whole area is a clean room."

Quickly the two men pulled on white overalls and stuffed their hair into caps. They stepped through one set of doors into what resembled a giant microwave where they were blasted clean by air jets in order to prevent dust from entering the lab and contaiminating the various delicate equipment held within.

"I should warn you, you're not going to have a lot to work with." Leung said with a slight smile and opened the door.

Francis stepped into the lab, it was a large room covered in white paint, every wall, surface and item was glistening to the point where it left glare shadows on his retina if he stared at anything for too long. The far wall was made of tinted glass and a more conventional computer room was visible beyond, a purple haired girl was frantically typing away on the monitor closest to the lab and Francis was reminded at how diverse the EIA was.

"Where's the item?" Francis asked, he had remembered hearing the news of the New York chase, and while it was depressing that the agent had escaped he was too relieved that Jenny had survived to be as resigned as his fellow agents.

"Here you go." Leung gestured at an object on the central table, a molten mass of plastic about a foot tall. "This is the alien's computer."

Francis blinked to adequately take in the scene. "That?" he squinted. "It's junk!"

"There was a self destruct rigged, but we did manage to recover a couple of fragments from inside, standard data crystal shards."

Francis moved closer and examined the collection of charred fragments around the black plastic lump. "I'll see what I can do." He grabbed a few devices from a nearby table and set them up, a small computer with two fibre optic leads attached. He carefully clipped the leads at either end of one of the shards and began passing a tiny electrical current through.

"The place was well covered." Leung mentioned. "Whoever this guy was he didn't leave much behind him, even the forensic teams only found partial DNA traces. The guy must have been wearing full body covering clothes constantly. That's dedication." He looked over Francis' shoulder. "Personally I think we're wasting our time here, that thing is totally…"

"Got something." The young operative announced.

"What?" Leung snapped. "How did you do that?"

"It's not much, just a partial text segment." Francis said. "It reads 'Psi Corps deputy' and that's it. Looks like it was part of a larger message."

Leung remained frowning. He had looked over the shards before calling in Francis and had found only gibberish, all of a sudden he was beginning to wonder if he was entirely cut out to be the head of department. He might be needing a new job soon. "How did you find that?"

"I just ran it through the standard Dilgar computer encryption, same one used on the computer from Tirrith. Most of the info is corrupted, but I'll look over some other data and see what I can find."

"Fine, you do that." Leung was annoyed. "Let me know when you're done, I'm sure the director will be interested."

He turned and stormed out of the room, Francis not taking the slightest notice, his full attention devoted to the task in hand. He didn't even notice the small crowd gathered at the glass wall watching him work. He was developing into something of a celebrity in the data and digital department and while completely oblivious himself others had noticed.

It took Francis four hours to complete the thorough study, and after that time he had found a few more words, most were in an alien language and needed translating but he had a few place names which were English, including repeated use of the words 'Psi Corps' and a few others. It seemed fairly logical the Dilgar would be intrigued by the Psi Corps, Earth was the only power in the known galaxy which put it's telepaths into a controlled and structured organisation. The corps was a relatively new institution, as indeed were telepaths themselves, and was billed as protecting society just as much as it protected its members. A lot of people still distrusted telepaths and putting them in black gloves and marking them out with a badge tended to make society sleep easier, the idea that a telepath coud easily remove those marks of identity apparently not crossing the general publics mind.

He had made his report, and then waited while Leung arranged a meeting with the Director, Durban had taken a personal interest in the matter and was to be kept informed of every development, and this one certainly counted. Francis left the lab and removed his clean suit, keeping a copy of the data he had recovered and bringing it with him back into the main portion of the EIA building. He was met by Agent Leung who sharply ordered him to follow.

"The Director is very concerned, I hope your facts are accurate." The Korean said. "If you've made a mistake you'll never live it down."

Francis was confused by the change in Leungs attitude, he seemed edgy and annoyed, and more than a little stressed. While the hunt for the spy was pushing the EIA resources and staff to their limits he couldn't help but think there was more to it. Could his boss be feeling threatened by Francis' skill?

They arrived at the Directors office and knocked on the door, a moment later they were invited in. Once again Francis was impressed by the view, the large window behind the Director showing lake Geneva in the distance and the round senate building. He could also glimpse the park behind the EIA building still skeletal and frosty in the February cold. The Director stood and gestured for them to sit on a semi circle of chairs in front of his desk, of the four chairs one was already occupied by a young suited man with a brief case on his knees and a stack of papers contained within. He nodded in greeting as Francis and Leung sat down.

"Good to see you again." Durban took his seat. "You're both doing great work on this matter, and I'm not the kind of man to forget anything."

"Thank you sir." Leung replied. "We've come up with a few notes, it seems…"

"Wait a minute." Durban raised his hands. "Based on your preliminary report I informed the President of the situation and he asked for another representative to join the briefing." Durban grunted a little, he was clearly not happy about this. "Because this Spectre was interested in the Psi Corps, the President feels that the Corps needs a representative here. We brief when he arrives."

As if on cue there was a tap on the door.

"Come on in." Durban allowed, and a small man in a black uniform and black gloves stepped in, brown hair neatly trimmed and as immaculate as every other facet of his appearance. His eyes darted around the room with something akin to dark amusement as he closed the door behind him.

"Good Morning, I'm Alfred Bester, I've been assigned to observe and advise on this situation on behalf of Psi Corps and report back any threats that have been discovered."

"Take a seat." Durban said. "This is Agent O'Leary, Agent Leung and Agent Clark."

He shook hands with each of the three EIA men and then sat down on the fourth chair. "So, what can the Corps do for you today?"

"It's more like what we can do for you." Durban said. "Francis?"

Leung gave him an uncomfortable look, as department head he felt he should handle the briefing, but remained quiet while Francis cleared his throat.

"We've recovered fragments of a Dilgar message which mentions Psi Corps." The Irish man said.

"Mentions how?" Bester sat up a little straighter.

"We don't know yet, we've recovered a few random words, most are in Dilgar but one or two names were in English, including the Corps and the word 'Deputy' which is in the report." He gathered five sheets of paper with his brief notes and the recovered words written on them, making sure each member of the meeting had one. "This has literally just come to light, I haven't even had time to get the rest translated."

"agent Clark." Durban spoke. "You know a little Dilgar, any of these words mean anything to you?"

Nervously Clark looked down at the notes, he was sill unsure why he had been asked to the meeting, he was hardly one of Durbans favourite people due to his association with Secretary of State Brogan. But from a purely practical point of view he was one of the EIA's Dilgar analysts and could contribute some of his knowledge to the unfolding situation.

"Well sir, this word here means 'Gather' while this one seems to indicate 'Meeting' perhaps?"

"Can you get anything more?"

"A lot of these words are just partial, one or two letter." Clark shook his head. "This one could be 'Information' as it fits into the Dilgar context but that's a stretch without running everything through a translation computer."

"It tells me enough." Bester said. "This agent looks like he has an agenda with my corps, and that makes him a clear and present threat. I think I know what he's planning."

The group now fell silent and focused on Bester allowing the small man to command the meeting. Bester relished these moments, he eagerly accepted this mission despite the underlying danger because it allowed him to flex his muscles and get a look at the inside of the secretive EIA. Psi Corps never really had a big problem with Earth Alliance Intelligence, before the Corps the intelligence groups had greedily recruited every telepath they could find as the ultimate spy or spy catcher, and despite initial hostility the two groups now got along just fine and the Corps would gladly lend telepaths to help maintain the security of the Alliance, which was why Bester was here now. Of course he also had the pressing issue of keeping his beloved Psi Corps safe and it was looking like he had quite a task laid out before him.

"Your first report said the Spectre was in New York, is this correct?"

"It is." Durban nodded. "We had visual confirmation from our people on the ground. Definitely a Dilgar agent."

"And this agent is still at large?"

"We recovered the vehicle he escaped in and dredged the Hudson. He was gone."

"So he is still in New York?"

"That would be our guess, is that significant?"

Bester nodded. "Yes, yes it really is." All the while he was speaking Bester was conducting Surface scans of the participants, nothing too deep that would trigger suspicion but enough to get an idea of their thoughts and feelings. It was illegal, but Bester didn't put a whole lot of concern into obeying mundane laws in these circumstances. Durban's mind was blank, he couldn't get any information from it. As a former field agent Durban had been trained to resist telepathic scans and while his mental fortitude wouldn't stop a deep scan from even a moderately skilled telepath it would tip him off that Bester was prodding around in his head, and in a building with a hundred armed and highly trained agents it was not a smart thing to do.

He shifted his attention to Francis, finding a neatly ordered mind which he perceived as a machine, a computer. The young man was lacking in confidence and very unsure of himself in this company but he was keeping a level head. Bester decided to check up on the new recruit first chance he got. Leung's mind was also ordered and closed, more EIA training. More interesting was Clark, his mind was a mess of jumbled thoughts and conflicts as his beliefs in what the future of Earth should be contradicted his sense of duty. Clark wasn't in control of his own destiny, and it seemed Secretary Brogan was pulling his strings, which suited Bester fine. Brogan was well known to the Psi Corps and a friend of the Corp's director.

"So Mr Bester?" Durban prompted. "What information do you have?"

"It's not much to go on, but those words were a clue. 'Psi Corps.' 'Deputy.' 'Information' 'Meeting.' Also the fact this agent is in New York, it all points to one thing."

"And that thing is?"

"The Psi Corps deputy director is having a Press Conference, a meeting, in New York city tomorrow." Bester explained. "She'll be talking about the role of telepaths in society and outlining exactly how and why the Psi Corps is a beneficial force for the future."

"That schedule is supposed to be secret." Leung said. "How can the Spectre know?"

"I don't know, but the words recovered from the agents computer seem clear. The Spectre is going to try and infiltrate that meeting."

"Good luck to him." Leung scoffed. "It's being held had the top of the 10k tower. No way out from there."

"Maybe he doesn't plan on leaving?" Clark wondered.

"I doubt he came all this way to assassinate the Psi Corps deputy." Durban said. "Why not just shoot her?"

"Information." Francis suggested. "That was in the message, maybe he wents to find something out from a senior government member?"

Bester chuckled. "Deputy Hirotsu is a P10 telepath, if he tried to interrogate her she could turn him into a vegetable with a few thoughts."

"Only if he's in line of sight though." Durban stated. "If he catches her and ties her up he can stay behind her and stay safe."

"So we should prevent that from happening, right?" Francis asked.

"We should, be we shouldn't cancel the meeting." Leung avoided Besters stare. "We know where the Spectre is going to hit next, this is a major break and we should use it to set up an ambush."

"Using Deputy Hirotsu as bait?" Bester said with a calm voice.

"In a word, yes."

Bester shook his head. "This is a very big risk Mr Director, we cannot afford to lose someone as important as the Deputy Director of Psi Corps."

"So far nobody knows about the Spectre." Leung replied. "Cancelling the meeting will raise concerns, especially because it is such an important subject. We can protect her and draw out the Spectre."

"Ultimately," Durban stepped in to end the debate. "It is up to Deputy Hirotsu. We will tell her our suspicions and see if she is willing to step into that situation. It is still speculation at this point."

"We can deploy our agents there undercover, rig the whole building with sensors." Leung suggested. "A fly couldn't get past without triggering half a dozen alarms."

"Alright, I want you to design the security procedures." Durban told Leung. "Work with the NYPD and FBI to make the building airtight. Francis, send what you have to Agent Chapel and make sure he and Jenny are at the 10k tower in the next half hour."

"Wait." Bester spoke up. "One more thing. I want to be part of this."

"You are part of it Mr Bester."

"I mean a direct part. I want to be in that building with your agents ready to capture this spy and personally make sure Deputy Hirotsu is safe."

"Mr Bester, our agents are trained for this sort of thing." Durban sighed.

"So am I." The telepath replied strongly. "And I have an elite bloodhound unit ready to go. Think about Director, who better to hunt for this spy than a group of telepaths?"

"He did manage to slip past our team before." Clark said. "Maybe Mr Bester is right, telepaths have tracked down terrorists and murderers before."

"I assure you my people are very well trained." Bester added. "Experts in martial arts and perfect shots."

Durban grimaced. "I guess this is happening on Psi Corps territory, which doesn't leave me a whole lot of choice does it?"

"It's the right decision Mr Director." Bester beamed, the smile looked staged to Durban. "If you'll excuse me I think I have work to do."

"We all do." Durban nodded. "Alright people, back to your jobs, lets find this guy and take him down."

Mars

Belt Alliance Orbital Facility

Paul Calendars bones ached, his chest ached and even blinking seemed to infuriate some muscle in his head. He rolled out of bed with effort, got dressed and left his cheap bed in his cheap room to go find something to eat. His quarters were small to say the least as were most of the rentable rooms on the giant space station over Mars though there were a handful of executive suites, the sort that cost a couple of thousand credits per visit. Paul was not a poor man, heaven knows he'd earned every penny of his fortune in recent months, but most of that money had been earmarked for something else, repairs to his faithful freighter the Space Race.

He clumped along the corridor without paying much attention to his surroundings until he made it onto one of the central concourses, then looked around for the out of the way breakfast stand he usually ate at first thing in the morning. The enticing smell of frying bacon drew him to the stall with irresistible temptation.

"Morning Captain!" the jovial woman who ran the small café sunk into the side of the station wall greeted him. The tables out on the concourse around the café were already three quarters occupied, by selling fresh cooked food brought up from the planet below Cheryl had guaranteed herself a huge customer base. After months hauling cargo getting a cooked fresh breakfast was a dream for most crews.

"Hi Cheryl." Paul smiled. "Full breakfast and a big pot of coffee for me this morning."

"Not a problem." She nodded. "Man you look rough today."

"Didn't get much sleep." He grabbed some paper serviettes as the cook worked her magic. "I think it's the beds in this place, I'm sure they got them second hand from the Spanish Inquisition."

Cheryl laughed. "It ain't the beds honey, it's the gravity. I hear it a lot from you long haul freighter jockeys."

Paul nodded. "Yeah, yeah I guess that's right."

"Of course it's right." She placed the breakfast in front of him, a mouth watering combination of fried foods which was on the brink of being considered illegal. He absolutely loved it, and damn the health freaks. "You spend most of your time in zero G, your body adapts, then when you get home it feels like you ninety years old."

Paul grinned. "How come you ain't a doctor?"

"Being a cook is a better job, the only bad news I give is the bill."

"Worth every credit." Paul handed over the amount, it was expensive but for fresh cooked food it was well spent.

"So do you keep fit?" Cheryl wondered. "Best way to keep alert is to exercise on your runs out there. You get a lot of exercise on your last couple of missions?"

Paul almost shot a stream of coffee through his nose. "Exercise? Cheryl girl, if you knew half of what I did out there you'd tell me to retire right now."

"So why don't you then? Retire, settle down. Word is you made a serious fortune on your last two runs, real danger money."

Paul shrugged. "I dunno, I just don't feel ready. After all the trouble I've been through you'd think it would be enough, but I'm missing something."

"Missing what?"

"I dunno." Paul repeated. "But whatever it is, it's out there somewhere." He picked up his plate and scouted for a table. "Thanks Cheryl, you're a good girl."

"And a hell of a cook." She smiled. "Go easy Captain, I don't like losing customers."

After a very satisfying breakfast Paul made his way to the only other site on the facility he was truly interested in, docking bay number four. This whole section of the station was virtually zero gravity nestled in the middle of the interconnected spinning cylinders of the habitat sections. A dozen small ships ranging from Belt Alliance escorts to corporate freighters were undergoing repairs and upgrades in the facility, and included among the large ships was the seemingly insignificant Space Race, a small and boxy slab of dull grey next to the brightly painted corporate ships.

Paul made it to one of the overlooking windows and took some time to admire his ship, the old girl was pushing forty now and had been old when his father had bought her, but she was still looking in remarkably good shape, no doubt thanks to the refit. Her hull was patched and finished to the point where it was impossible to guess how much punishment she had taken, she looked like a well maintained little freighter which had never seen a days hard work in its life, her true story of course was far more violent and desperate.

"Morning boss." Paul grinned when he recognized the voice, he didn't even need to turn away from the window.

"Hey Jors, how's things?"

"We're doing good, the Race is almost done, just one or two finishing touches to put on her."

That cheered Paul up, and with the hearty breakfast all his aches were simply melting away. "Where's Toby?"

"Lurking around looking for a quick credit." Jors scoffed. "Get rich quick, you know the story."

"Yeah, I remember." Toby had been very enthusiastic about the Abbai contract, big money for easy work. Sadly the contract had failed to mention the possibility of several thousand Dilgar ships trying to kill them. "I already got us a job hauling some goods to Markab space, some holy rocks or something. Go figure."

"Quite a bunch the Markab." Jors agreed. "Don't want to get them angry though, they're religious nuts but they pack a mean temper."

"Anyway, why don't you tell me what we're looking at here." Paul nodded at the ship. "I was too busy not getting killed at Brakir to see the specs on the old girl."

"Well sir she's basically a new ship, sure she looks the same but apart from the internal framework, the seats and the dice in the cockpit she's had a full refit inside and out."

Jors moved closer and pointed out the front of the ship. "The habitational sector looks the same, but we've had a full upgrade to our electrical and power systems. Shuttle bay is the same but we got our hands on a shiny new atmospheric cargo shuttle which I made sure had a little engine tune up and one or two surprise packages in its nose."

"Such as?" Paul asked.

"Couple of spare particle guns the Belt Alliance didn't need for it's fighters." Jors shrugged. "Well, didn't miss anyway."

"I miss our old shuttle." Paul sighed.

"It was a good craft, got us down to Tirrith safely." Jors agreed. "But this one is even better, although that Dilgar cutter we stole…"

"Please, did you think Earth Force military intelligence would let us keep that?" Paul laughed. "It's probably in pieces somewhere in the Martian desert being studied as we speak."

"That was a nice ship." Jors reminisced. "The Dilgar can build a good shuttle, good fighters too."

"Back on topic." Paul prompted. "What else did we get?"

"Well there's armour. And I don't mean the junk they offer on the black market, this is military grade metal and synthetic composite, real quality stuff. They make Dreadnoughts from this material, and while it's nowhere near as thick it'll shrug off most fighter attackers and glancing blows from light warships."

"Cool." Paul appreciated.

"Habitat and engine modules are coated in the stuff." Jors explained. "Of course this has the disadvantage of knocking a hell of a lot off our acceleration."

That made Paul grimace. "Shame, she was one of the fastest freighters out there."

"Oh she still is, we managed to get hold of some new reactors and engines, same ones they use on Earth Force courier ships." Jors smiled widely. "Take a look at the Magnetic engine vanes we got, full military thrust vectoring. Don't ask where they came from, I think we had a friend pulling some strings."

Paul immediately thought of Jenny. "So we haven't lost any performance?"

"We've actually improved." The big Swedish man confirmed. "Now, the cool stuff."

Jors pointed out some weapons emplacements, four turrets on the front habitat module and four on the engineering section. The guns were arranged on each axis for maximum cover.

"They refitted our defence grid." Paul noticed the weapons were different. "Did they fit what they promised?"

"Interceptors." Jors said with great pleasure. "Okay, these ones aren't military grade, we didn't get that lucky, but they'll stop incoming fire and rip the hell out of any fighter squadron that thinks it can tangle with us."

"Sweet, we must be the only civilian ship to be packing that kind of firepower."

"It's totally illegal, which is why we altered the guns to look like regular particle cannons." Jors noted. "If we get pulled over by an Earth Force patrol we're going to have a lot of explaining to do. But basically we can operate independently now and defend ourself from anything our fancy new engines can't outrun."

"So if we ever run into trouble…"

"Then we are trouble." Jors grinned. "We've got a fighting chance with this system, plus we were offered some surprise extras. Ever heard of a Q-Ship?"

"Yeah, a ship that looks like a freighter but is actually hiding heavy guns." Paul nodded. "The Belters slip them into convoys to give raiders the surprise of their lives."

"Well we've been given a few cargo pods from the Auxiliary fleet which we can swap for our normal pods. Each pod has a Plasma cannon and some anti-ship missiles. Real mean looking buggers. If we ever do something really stupid like take a job deep in League space, well now we have the weapons to take on a patrol ship or a scout."

Paul looked over his ship with appreciation, the old girl had been hurt before, badly hurt, but now she had the means to defend herself and make sure nobody brought her to the brink of destruction again. "You realise with these new pods we're going to out gun a Belt Alliance escort destroyer? We'll almost by up to Earth Force standards for a ship this size."

"Yeah. Ain't it cool?" Jors chuckled. "Between the Belt Alliance bribes for you going to Brakiri and a few Earth officials looking the other way thanks to Jenny, well we got the toughest little freighter on the block."

"I think it's about time we took her for a little spin, don't you?" Paul smiled widely.

"My thoughts exactly Captain, I'll grab Toby and we're ready to go."

"Thanks Jors." He took a look at the vessel once more. "Lets go back to doing what we do best."

It took an hour for Jors to find Toby, which gave Paul some time to take a look at the inside of his ship by himself. It was an eerie experienced being back onboard the Space Race, he remembered every detail of his ship intricately and was a little saddened when he saw the changes which had altered his beloved ship. Internal bulkheads had been replaced with a stronger structure and fresh panelling had been fixed across the open wire junctions and crawl spaces, areas which had been uncovered for literally decades. The little niches and little imperfections which had made this ship unique were gone, welded up behind a few inches of armour plate and new power relays, he personality smothered behind faceless grey and bleakness.

She was almost a new ship, with so many systems destroyed in action, then ripped out and replaced with shiny new technology the Race had more new technology running through her veins than original items. He had to look long and hard to find something original, even the basic utility systems like the ships galley and restrooms had been replaced by the latest Earth made systems. The toilets still had an Earth Force registry stamped on the outside of their bowls. He felt like he was on a starship now, whereas before he had just thought he was in his home, which just happened to be flying through space on freight runs. He felt like he'd return to his childhood home to find it demolished and a mall built on its grounds.

"Captain." Toby found him wandering around the galley. "We're ready to go sir, Jors is just finishing pre-flight checks up on the flight deck."

"Alright then." He took another slightly melancholy look around. His ship was a lot more capable than it had been, but he missed the old face of his home for all these years. "We've got some money to make."

For all the favours Paul and his crew had done for Earth and the Belt Alliance they still had to pay for the refit. Their contract and connections allowed them access to military grade systems which would normally be completely illegal, but it didn't mean that they were given the items for free, which by all rights they deserved. The refit had cost them the lions share of the money they had made dodging the Dilgar and while it was better than buying an entirely new ship Paul was feeling doubtful about the Race, he wondered if he'd have been happier preserving the barely functioning wreck he brought home and buying a new ship rather than altering his old girl.

The flight deck was also new, with shining metal and black optical displays replacing the more familiar buttons and switches the ship had been built with. "What did they do to my flight deck?" Paul gasped.

"Didn't I mention?" Jors replied. "The changed out all the flight controls too, came with the new engines. Also we got new sensors to help with targeting for the interceptor guns."

"No Jors, you didn't mention." Paul grunted. "Is there anything left of my old ship?"

"Well Captain," Toby spoke up. "We saved your chair."

"My chair?"

"Yes Captain." Toby nodded at the worn leather backed chair at the commanders position, it was surrounded by gleaming displays but looked unmistakeably out of place. With a fain chuckle he turned the seat and dropped into it, instantly feeling comfortable. He thanked Toby and Jors for keeping this little bit of the past before looking out to the future. "We've got a pick up and delivery to Markab, and there's a bonus if we make it quick."

"Sounds like a chance to see what our new systems can do." Jors smiled at the challenge, he'd ran tests and was secretly ecstatic at what the engineers had done. He lamented the the change of surface detail much less than Paul, as far as he was concerned this was the same ship he had joined all those years ago, she'd just had a makeover and a little cosmetic work. "Bringing reactor online."

The lights on the flight deck began to blink on as they drew power from the main grid rather than the battery system. It was hard to notice much of a difference this early but the reactor did seem to warm up much faster than the old one.

"Standby departure manoeuvres." Paul said. "Toby, get us clearance, Jors blow all latches."

"Yes sir." Jors settled into his brand new chair, happy to be back where he belonged piloting starships. "Docking clamps retracting, airlocks sealed, thrusters powering."

"Mars orbital control this is independent Freighter Space Race requesting clearance to depart." Toby ran through the formal spiel of dealing with the often officious aerospace controllers.

It only took a few seconds for the answer to come through. "Understood Space Race. Follow Beacon path M49 to the edge of Martian planetary space, then you are clear for Io."

"Roger that Martian control."

"Safe Journey Space Race." The voice added, drawing a glance from Paul.

"Did they change the recruiting process for controllers?" he wondered. "It's usually 'Good riddance' when we leave. Did we actually get shown respect?"

"I guess, I've never had that before." Toby half joked. "Maybe we should almost get killed more often?"

"I think the forty something times we dodged death is enough. Alright Jors, engines up, let's see how she handles."

"I've been waiting for this all month." The pilot grinned. "Moving off."

With a hiss of gas the freighter moved away from the sides of the station clearing its mooring, the RCS thrusters easing it into position while the main engines powered up. Much to Paul's surprise the ship had gathered a small crowd on the station and on nearby ships watching the vessel move slowly into position.

"Exactly how did this happen?" Paul asked. "We get respect from Mars control, we get an audience for our departure, and I've heard people whispering about me for a week."

Toby cleared his throat. "I might have mentioned a little bit about our time in the League."

Paul gave him an accusing stare. "Like what exactly?"

"Just some of the random stuff, you know." He said sheepishly. "Like flying around, dropping cargo, escaping the Dilgar a few times, and also the pretty scenery."

Both the other men sighed in unison. "You mentioned the Dilgar!"

"You remember that was supposed to be classified!" Jors growled.

"Yes I remember, it's just, well you had to be there." Toby shrugged.

"You were bragging to impress a girl." Paul guessed.

"No." Toby replied. "Well okay, yes, but I didn't think it would spread!"

"A good story spreads faster than Proximan flu on a tin can like Mars station." Paul shook his head. "Earth Force isn't going to be happy about this."

"Good job we're heading for Markab then." Jors commented. "Keep our noses clean for a while."

"Let's hope it all blows over by the time we get back." The Captain returned his attention to the controls with a sigh. "Alright then Jors, open up the engines."

"Aye sir." The Swedish pilot said, and then activated the four vectored ion engines.

The ship physically leapt forward pressing them all deep into their seats, the sudden impact of G force taking the crew by surprise. Paul didn't even have enough air in his lungs to swear at Jors. They were rigid for a few seconds before the immensely strong and powerful pilot decreased the throttle, bringing acceleration to a more appreciable single gravity equivalent.

"Oops." He said. "Sorry Captain, that was unexpected."

"What the hell Jors!" Paul spluttered.

"That was five G's sir, damn these engines are good, we're going to need some sort of flight suits."

"No Jors, we're going to need to find a new pilot if you try that again without a Dilgar battleship on our six!" Paul stretched the muscles in his neck, he guessed he had some mild whiplash. "Just keep it nice and easy."

"Uh oh." Toby said. "I think we got some attention."

"Attention? We haven't had anything but for the last week Mr Big Mouth." Paul spat, he had imagined this would be a perfect moment but was far from feeling it.

"Yeah, but this isn't good attention." Toby read the scanner report. "That little bit of acceleration might have got us noticed, squadron of Starfuries coming our way."

"Oh great, this day just gets better."

"They're pretty low." Toby glanced, "Almost in low orbit, pretty risky."

"Must be bored, trying to work a little danger into their patrols." Paul figured. "Hold course and speed, see if they hail us."

The Space race was on the main transit route out of Mars orbit, Earth Force was very strict about enforcing these transit lanes in an attempt to cut down on smuggling, every ship had to pass by the various monitoring stations to be scanned for contraband before it was allowed to dock at the civilian stations closer to the planet. It wasn't a flawless system, but worked most of time.

"No communication." Toby said. "But they are still closing."

Paul watched the twelve blips, they had matched speed with the freighter and were closing fast, rising up from Mars orbit towards the transit route. He couldn't see where they had come from, but he guessed it had to be a warship.

"Pretty little things." Jors remarked. "Brand new model."

They were close enough to see outside the flight decks side windows now, four powerful wing mounted engines marking them out as Nova Furies, less than a year old and so far only deployed to the best Earth Squadrons.

"I don't like this." Paul winced. "What are those guys doing here?"

"Aren't they the Mars security patrol?" Toby suggested.

"The Security patrol are lucky if their Furies can even launch, those ships are top of the line, no way are they going to be thrown away on security detail." Paul pointed out. "They came from a warship, a big one too, corvettes and cruisers only carry six, that's a full squadron of twelve."

"Training flight?" Jors wondered.

"Not this close to the shipping lanes." Paul shook his head.

"Shall I contact them?" Toby asked.

"No." Paul said quickly. "We don't want to draw any more attention. Hold course and speed."

He could see the leading fighter clearly now, it was just a few dozen metres from his ship. The Fury had bright red chevrons emblazoned on its wing surface edged in white, the other fighters in the squadron were also gleaming and painted with remarkably detailed wing art, a scantily clad nymph catching his eye.

"We're almost out of the lanes." Jors said. "Coming up on the monitor station."

"Anything from the station?"

"We're getting a surface scan." Toby reported. "Basic cargo scan, the weapons are deactivated and reactor is at nominal levels, we'll just look like a normal freighter."

The Race drew alongside the ring like military base, smaller and more spartan looking than the Mars space port but clearly better armed with an array of guns and missiles that was both unnerving and somehow reassuring.

It was then the Starfuries made their move.

The red decorated lead fighter performed an overhead roll passing upside down over the forward windows of the Space Race causing Toby and Paul to involuntarily duck despite the inches of cockpit material seperating them from the world outside. Its multiple thrusters flared in a random pattern, seemingly throwing the fighter wildly out of control as it spun on all three axis' before instantly straightening up and charging for the station just a few miles away.

"That guy's crazy!" Toby yelled. "He could have taken the front off our ship!"

"We haven't even made it ten thousand miles out of the dock yet." Jors added. "Even by our standards that would be unlucky."

"Where did they go?" Paul snapped. "Get me a bearing!"

"The whole unit is heading away, going for the station." Toby announced using the new sensor grid. "Holy…they're locking weapons onto the station!"

"They're what?" Paul said astounded. "They're Earth Force! Why attack the station?"

"Locking on to the stations plasma cannons and interceptors." Toby said fixed in morbid fascination to the screen. "Firing now."

Paul watched as the first shots of what was either civil war or the most ambitious raider group ever began impacting the station. Half the squadron raced through the spindly structure pumping energy rounds into the surprised point defences while the other half took on the heavier anti-ship weapons. They made just one pass rolling and shifting to keep their guns or target as they engaged, the leading red marked fighter weaving through the spinning station arms sideways as he took out the main communications array with yellow energy bolts. That made Paul frown, Earth force plasma focusing technology tended to yield blue coloured bolts, not yellow.

"They just hit every major system, but I don't see any damage." Toby added to Paul's confusion. "Just some slight increase in radiation on hit systems and… paint."

"Paint?" Paul's eyebrow shot up. "What the hell was all that about then? A prank?"

"Wargames." Jors finally said, grinning widely. "The Earth Force wargames, due to start in a couple of days."

Paul exhaled, of course it had to be the long expected exercise. It had been on the news and every freighter Captain and Pilot was warned to stay clear of certain areas for the next two weeks while the Navy flexed it's muscles on ISN. They wouldn't be using live ammunition but would be using timed hyperspace insertions, and several million tons of warship coming out of nowhere and hurtling into your freighter would ruin most people's day. Knowing Paul's luck hed probably get stuck to the front of a Dreadnought.

"Wait a minute, it it isn't for a few days what are those guys doing right now?" Toby pointed out. "Shouldn't they wait?"

"Why?" Paul answered. "Dilgar didn't wait to invade the Abbai. If this exercise is supposed to be to prepare the EA for war I doubt the Dilgar or anyone else will stick to a nice pre arranged timetable."

"Those guys we're reckless." Toby grunted. "If they've scorched our hull with afterburners…"

Paul chuckled. "I think they kept far enough away. They used us to hide behind, to get close to the station without tripping it's sensors, then picked off its weapons and left. Surgical strike."

"If they were Dilgar trying it for real we'd have a nice surprise package for them" Jors grinned. "Real big surprise."

"Lets hope it never comes to it." Paul said.

"Hell yeah, if I never see a Dilgar again it'll be too soon." Toby added. "I'm getting a lot of chatter from the station. Boy they aren't happy."

"Maybe now they'll keep a better watch on freighters." Paul grinned. "Being annoyed and alive is better than lazy and dead."

"We're passing the outer beacon." Jors interupted, putting them back on mission. "Clear run to the gate at Io, our flight plan is filed and jump access confirmed."

"Just like the old days." Paul said wistfully. "Set course, and let me know if anymore fighter jocks or battleships try to use us as a human shield." He got up from his chair, running his hand along the top. "I'll get us some food ready, tell me we have some decent chow this time."

"I got a deal on Earth Force rations." Jors said, eliciting looks of disapointment and anger from his crewmates. He grinned widely. "Which I rejected and spent some of our hard earned cash on some space liner meal packs. I figure we should enjoy our money while we can."

"Amen to that." Paul agreed. "We earned it." He stood quietly for a moment, slowly floating backwards as the ship maintained a low acceleration. Money couldn't make up for what they had gone through, he didn't know what could ever make amends.

"If you need me I'll be in the galley, then I'll check out my quarters." He moved away from the flight deck. "That is if I can find anything on this tub anymore!"

"I know, it's so strange and, well, clean." Toby joked. "Just isn't right."

"Once we get back to our day jobs I'm sure everything will sort itself out." Paul said quietly. "We had a tough time, but it's over now. Lets just get on and pray we had a lifetimes worth of bad luck in one month. Sure feels like we did."

The Freighter left Martian orbit and the verbal tirade between the station and the fighter pilots, heading into the deep cold the crew had learned to call home.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 39

10k Tower

New York City

Al Bester was in no hurry today, and he couldn't really care less if the throngs of press were getting impatient. Despite the threat of interference from the Dilgar agent somewhere in the city the Psi Corps public relations conference was still going to proceed, and Deputy Director Hirotsu was due to arrive in the building within the next few minutes. Security was understandably tight with a heavy Police presence in the area backed up by less noticeable snipers and undercover FBI agents. The tower was filled with armed agents but the two groups which Bester had an interest in were nestled inconspicuously in the background. The first group was the two men and one woman who made up his bloodhound unit, the second was the EIA delegation made up of Agents Chapel and Sakai.

Like all field agents Jenny and Chapel had undergone intense mental training to keep their thoughts under total control so that a passing telepath couldn't read their thoughts, and that infuriated Bester though of course he would never dream of showing his frustration. He was used to skimming the day to day thoughts of people he met, like the journalists around him or the officers at the door to get an impression of who he was dealing with. He looked into their hopes and dreams, their fears and anxieties and used that information in his discussions. Bester made sure to subtley drop hints and references to that persons most secret desires or terrors to give him an edge in negotiations, and it usually meant he got whatever he wanted. Bester was fast becoming a master of this tactic and had gotten him noticed and appreciated by the highest levels of the corps, and despite past transgressions the Psi Corps knew it was better to have Bester as a friend rather than an enemy.

Sadly for him the EIA was just as cautious with its people as Psi Corps and made damn sure it's field agents weren't going to do something silly like broadcast highly classified information just in case their opponents had disguised telepaths around. This training was one of the reasons the Psi Corps took any opportunity it could to look at how the EIA worked and to try and glean at least a scrap of information from one of its high placed agents during a crisis when their defences might slip. So far Bester had learned little, though the two young analysts back in Geneva had raised a few ideas he would be passing on.

"Mr Bester." FBI Agent Barker drew his attention. "The motorcade is turning in off the main street, thirty seconds until arrival."

"Very good, have your people get ready." He unhitched the strap holding his PPG in its holster and with a mental command ordered the rest of his unit to do the same. As one the Bloodhounds advancedtowards the main entrance keeping constantly alert, their senses as sharp and precise as possible.

Any telepath with the right skills of detection and sensory acuity could become a Bloodhound and there tended to be a very wide range of specific skills and abilities. In some cases there were P5's who had shown a particular talent for deduction despite relatively average telepathic skills, in others there were P9's and P10's who could just close their eyes and pick up the aura of a rogue telepath. All they needed in common was total devotion to the Psi Corps and the unshakeable belief that they were doing the right thing, even if that sometimes meant killing their fellow telepaths. It was the greatest tragedy Bester could think of, and something he found himself struggling to understand. Why pick death instead of the Corps? The Corps was Mother, the Corps was Father. It was not a jailor or tormentor. At least not to telepaths.

The unit Bester had brought with him today was as lethal as Bloodhounds came. He had selected them himself and each was at least a P10 and an expert in unarmed combat as well as marksmanship. He had firmly believed that Psi Corps needed special teams that had all the skills on mundanes plus their edge in telepathy and was constantly arguing for an official Psi Corps special forces unit and a space going team of pilots to bring in rogues from wherever they ran. Perhaps one day it would come to fruition, but until then this little team was the unofficial version of the SAS or Assault Rangers.

"Bester." He heard the gravely voice of Chapel in his earpiece. "We're covering the corridors just inside the lobby. Cops are covering outside. Go meet the Deputy at the door and escort her closely in."

"Aye aye Captain." Bester replied in amusement. Chapel might think he was in charge of this operation, but Bester was going to take orders from precisely one person, and that was himself. He lined his people up just inside the main doorway two on either side and waited.

The vehicles came gliding to a halt outside the tower, circling the tall sculpted fountain in front of the building that was shaped like Atlas holding the world upon his shoulders. The black limousine was proceeded and followed by a pair of NYPD cars and a quartet of motorcycles along with the whine of an aircraft hidden from Bester's view by the ceiling of the lobby. It was a well protected convoy which arrived at the meeting and the click of cameras and whir of video links captured every moment.

Bester kept a close watch on the press as Deputy Hirotsu emerged from the limousine, every camera had been fully checked by the FBI in case it hid a bomb or other weapon but Bester was nothing if not distrustful. He passed through the minds of the press and police keeping the way clear for the deputy, few of them really wanted to be there and some displayed the typical cynicism and resentment Bester had come to expect from Mundanes. They didn't like telepaths, and didn't really care if the Deputy was attacked or not. However none of them was actually considering an attack themselves which was enough for Bester.

The Deputy smiled for the cameras, a youthful looking woman from Japan she was actually well into middle age but kept herself fit and healthy physical and mentally. Bester reached over and opened the glass door for her with a smile.

"Welcome to the ten thousand tower Madame Director."

"Alfred, good to see you again." She reached out and shook his hand. "And you brought a guard of honour I see. Please, lead the way."

She had said those calm words for the press, loud enough to be picked up and broadcast. Telepaphically she had asked Bester if the threat had yet shown itself, to which Bester had told her it hadn't. Neither of them broke from their smiles but inside their heads they had to make a conscious effort to remain even and calm.

This was the part Bester most feared as they walked across the black floored lobby towards the Elevators, a two hundred yard walk that left them completely exposed and without very much cover should an attack come. The lobby itself was fifty feet feet high with the ceiling arching slightly over head and hanging light fittings suspended on cables from above. One of the most striking features of the tower was its entrance, the entire wall was glass with the dozen or so doors set into its lower part. The glass stretched from the roof almost the entire way around the ground floor of the building interrupted only by the huge structural supports which sank deep into the ground below. It was a snipers dream and Bester could not guarantee that he would pick up the sense of intense personal danger in time, especially if the sniper was far away.

"Area is still clear." Chapel spoke. "Once you make it to the elevators we'll let the press in."

"Will you be riding up in the same elevator?" Bester asked quietly into his commlink.

Chapel scoffed. "What are you? Nuts? Don't put all your eggs in one basket."

"The elevators are safe though, we checked the mechanisms and have guards monitoring the controls?"

"Of course we do." Chapel replied. "But I'm still going to wait for the next one. You'll be perfectly safe. Probably."

The link switched off and Bester suppressed his annoyance once again. The EIA agent was toying with him, and it diddn't take a scan to know he and Jenny were not pleased about the Psi Corps participating in the hunt for the Spectre, they considered it purely an EIA affair. For his part Bester didn't care, there was more at stake here than EIA pride, there was keeping a highly valuable telepath alive and well and in his mind Hirotsu was worth a whole city block of Mundanes.

"The conference room has already been cleared." He informed the Deputy Director. "We have an express elevator which will go straight there without delay. Once you are happy we'll send for the journalists and reporters to come on up and begin your address."

"Very well Al." Hirotsu nodded. "I feel safe in your company, and we must not let the world see telepaths will cower in fright at the slightest threat. We must be strong, or we will be pushed around, used and discarded."

Bester smiled. "I couldn't agree more."

"They're in the elevator." Jenny reported, stood in the shadows near a vacant information desk. "Doors are closing, and they're clear."

"No boom?" Chapel asked.

"No boom." She smiled. "And you better hope Bester didn't pick up on that."

"That little toad already knows I'd like to stomp his guts out." Chapel grunted. "But orders are orders. Besides, if he wants to take on a Dilgar Spectre alone that's fine by me. Hell he might even tire the guy out by forcing him to punch those Bloodhounds down."

"I guess there's always a positive." Jenny chuckled. "Think this was a false alarm?"

"If it was I blame your buddy Francis. That's where the information came from." Chapel answered. "But there's plenty of time left for our guy to make his move. Lets go upstairs and see what happens next."

Jenny moved quietly towards the banks of elevators and selected the nearest one, the door opening instantly. Chapel signalled the the FBI to let the press into the lobby, then got into a second Elevator separate from Jenny. As he had told Bester he didn't like putting all his assets in one small space at one time to make the Spectre's job easy. The door closed hiding her grin, that sort of paranoia kept agents alive.

The ride to the top of the tower was smooth and although it took a while the elevator had chairs thoughtfully added to its design so the occupants could rest for the few minutes travel time. The use of cables to hoist the cars were long since gone and would have been problematic in a building as big as the 10k tower, someone wishing to travel right to the top would have to change over between cars and shafts a dozen times before they arrived. However thanks to electro magnetic technology the elevators now ran on magnetic rails up, down and even side to side in a complex network of tunnels inside the building based on the networks on starships and space stations.

Finally the car stopped and the doors pinged open revealing a well kept corridor lined with rich wooden panelling. The top few floors were all given over to either restaurants, meeting and conference rooms, or in one case an apartment. Jenny didn't know who had bought a penthouse suite all the way up here, but whoever it was clearly had more money than was healthy and the best view on the entire planet. Mostly though these rooms were used for the exact purpose Deputy Hirotsu was planning, as a high profile back drop to try and get her message heard. Over the last few years the tower had played host to a lot of fairly historic announcements from new ship designs to the swearing in of the Mayor of New York City. Probably the biggest event was the signing of the non aggression pact with the Narn after the brief hostilities between the expanding Regime and a few Earth Force vessels. The Narn had been driven off and both sides were happy to establish a set border, when the Narn delegation caught a look at the tower their expressions were captured by every camera in the press corps. Those images were part of human lore now and great pride was taken over them, the 10k tower was something unmatched in human experience of the galaxy.

"I'm in position." Jenny announced. "No activity."

"Same here." Answered Chapel. "Well, keep your eyes open, maybe this will turn out to be a quiet relaxing break from our normal duties."

"Or we'll end up fighting for our lives again." Jenny retorted. "Either way I don't really have plans for the next two hours."

"Take up position in the conference room, it looks like we're in for a fascinating lecture on the Psi Corps afterall." Chapels tone did not convey enthusiasm.

"Great." Jenny replied in kind. "No good deed goes unpunished."

Chapel's grating laugh carried over into her earpiece. "Lets get this done, sooner we finish babysitting these mind fraggers sooner we can go and do our real jobs."

"Amen to that." Jenny sighed.

She and Chapel entered the conference room through side doors, noting the laser detection system, motion sensors and video cameras which seemed to be crammed around the entrance way. Jenny gave a quick wave to the camera to let the FBI and building security get a good look at her features and not sound the alarm. The conference room itself was a fairly standard design a good sixty feet square with a high ceiling. Like most rooms in the tower it had a bright spacious atmosphere helped immensely by the floor to ceiling windows lining the right hand side of the room showing the city of New York and far beyond. From up here all they had to worry about were internal threats, there wasn't a sniper in the galaxy who could hit them up here and the local squadrons of Banshee fighters were keeping a careful watch over the city incase the Spectre tried a more direct airborne attack. Flying aircraft into towers was not a new tactic for terrorists.

The room itself had a very light security presence, the FBI and NYPD keeping their guards on the ground floor or patrolling the extensive corridors and the five floors above and below the coming meeting. Apart from the monitoring equipment only the Bloodhound unit would be present alongside the two EIA agents, hopefully the telepathic abilities of their erstwhile comrades would tip them off before the Spectre made his move and they could evacuate the room and call in reinforcements, though Jenny would be quite happy to see today go without a hitch. A little boredom would be appreciated.

"The FBI is bringing the press in." Chapel informed her. "Still no activity."

"None here." Jenny seconded.

"Or here." Bester added on the same frequency. "When the crowd is seated I'll bring Deputy Hirotsu through. Stay alert, we cannot afford any mistakes."

"Yes sir." Chapel replied, positively leaking sarcasm. Jenny kept her own thoughts on the matter quiet, but like Chapel she wasn't thrilled at Bester giving orders. Still, he had no real authority and if the bullets started flying the two EIA agents would handle the situation in their own way, Psi Corps be damned.

The wooden doors opened to allow the press in and from her position just off to the side of the podium Jenny carefully watched the reactions of the press. Without fail each one of them looked out of the great windows and the amazing view beyond some smiling with familiarity, others gaping in awe as they headed for their seats, small paper tags with their name and agency marking who would sit where. The reporters themselves took to the seats while Camera operators lined the rear wall with their floating remote devices preparing to record the event.

A few glanced at Jenny, but quickly discounted her as an aide or building official, no one would have guessed she was one of the best trained agents on Earth just by looking at her right now in her plain business suit and tied up hair. That initial impression was crucial for the EIA, the ability to blend into backgrounds without triggering a conscious reaction in people who noticed her. At the other end of the room Chapel was similarly unnoticed, while the visible Psi Cops were subject to a few photographs which would doubtless make imposing images on the more conservative papers.

After a few minutes the reporters were assembled and waited expectantly, slightly more energised and interested in this meeting now they had taken a moment to appreciate the venue. Jenny smiled inwardly, that was no doubt why the Corps had picked this place in order to exploit the surroundings and back drop to get the Deputy's message across. A simple psychological trick, but a good one.

"Bester here," a voice crackled. "I am escorting out the Deputy Director."

Jenny went on full alert, picking out every detail her eye settled on from the colour of the press ID tags to whether or not a certain persons shoe laces were tied. Any hint of distraction which could indicate a persons thoughts were focused on something big would be a give away, which is why she had been glad that the view had captivated the visitors. If someone had failed to notice it she would have escorted him immediately to the security room. Jenny also made sure to give the Psi Cops a quick look over too, just in case.

Deputy Hirotsu strode out from the side stage and walked confidently over to the podium looking totally in control and without hesitation. Unlike the Psi Cops she was wearing pale colours and a ready smile, though kept the black leather gloves as signs of her station and the gold symbol of her organisation prominently displayed on her chest. She seemed to bask in the flashing cameras and glare of video lights as she took hold of the podium, hands gripping tightly on both sides. It took a trained eye to notice, but Jenny saw Hirotsu's knuckles were white from gripping too hard. A subtle hint that she was scared to be up there.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press, welcome to the Ten-Kay tower, here in vibrant New York city." She began, speaking warmly like a primary school teacher. "This is my third visit here, and my first time in the tower, and it is an experience I will not forget."

The crowd of reporters were all giving the Deputy their undivided attention, holding up recording devices to catch her words, one even had a pen and paper harking back to a much older age of journalism. She noticed the Psi Cops were also scanning the room with their eyes, and though she could never prove it she'd have bet New Vegas odds they were going through the surface thoughts of everyone in that room. It made her shiver a little, such an invasion gave her the creeps and while her EIA training in theory meant she would know if her mind was being probed there was nothing she could do to stop it. Well, at least nothing that didn't involve the Psi Cop in question taking a free fall lesson without a parachute.

For the next hour she did not loosen up at all, keeping a watch on the reporters, the cameras, the Psi Cops, the air vents, the doors, even the floor to make sure nothing was out of place. She only caught snippets of the Deputy's speech, sound bites about positive partnerships and examples of the Psi Corps helping to eliminate Fraud and dishonesty across Earth Gov. She briefly wondered if that included the Corps itself, over the relatively short time she'd been an agent she'd heard enough rumours about Psi Corps and their ultra black projects to write a good sized conspiracy theory book.

Hirotsu took a good amount of questions which slightly irked Jenny. She would have preferred for the Telepath to just turn around and leave so she and Chapel could go back to their day job instead of chasing what was obviously a false lead. She believed Francis had found some helpful information in the recovered Spectre computer, but the interpretation was incorrect and there was no connection between this event and the Spectre's plans. It was just back ground information.

Finally Hirotsu finished, with another smile and a thankyou she stepped back from the podium and disappeared off the stage and out of the room, the Psi Cops following. For a few extra minutes Jenny and Chapel stayed where they were as the reporters packed up their gear and chatted amongst themselves, mostly about the view and very few commenting on the conference itself.

"Situation clear." Bester's interminable voice informed them. "The Deputy is secure."

The message was received by both the EIA and FBI agents at the same time, and the guards on the doors to the room opened them to allow the press to leave. Jenny and Chapel shared a glance of relief and joined each other in front of the podium, sitting on the edge of the small stage.

"Well, that's an hour of my life I'll never get back." Chapel grumbled.

"I don't mind."Jenny said in reply. "We get paid by the hour, and if that means just standing around rather than engaging in a high speed car chase, well that's fine by me."

"That Spectre is still out there." Commented Chapel. "He isn't done with us yet, hell I bet he hasn't even started."

Jenny stared out of the window. "Well I'm glad we came up here, I mean how about that for a view."

"Yeah." Chapel nodded. "Not bad at all."

"So what's the new plan? Where do we look?"

"Well this guy is here for a reason. Find the reason, find the guy."

"Easier said than done, I mean…"

She was interrupted by a burst of static on the secure frequency.

"She's in trouble!" Jenny recognized a female voice, one of Bester's cops. "The Deputy, she's being attacked!"

"What was that about finding the reason?" Jenny leapt up and drew her PPG. "And I was just starting to enjoy it up here."

Chapel kicked the door open, splintering the lock on its left side and exposing the fresh pale wood under the varnished antique finish selected for the VIP suites in the tower. He barged into the room and snapped his PPG left and right, Jenny charging through and dropping to a crouch on his left also scanning back and forth with her weapon drawn, keeping her eyes and PPG pointing in the same direction.

"Clear." She announced.

"Clear and empty." Chapel moved deeper into the large room, the leather couch and genuine wooden desk provided for the Deputy Director were pushed over and lay at odd angles at the far side of the room. Broken glass from a bottle was covering part of the lush carpet and the fresh flowers had been knocked over and trampled.

"What happened?" Bester forced past the two agents into the room, staring aghast at the mess. "I demand to know how somebody got in here!"

Jenny looked up and nodded at the upper corner of the far wall. "Air vent." She said plainly. "Guy must be very strong."

"He came in through there, stunned Hirotsu, then dragged her up through there." Chapel deduced. "That's a lot of effort, dragging somebody through a ventilation system, it slows you down, makes you easy to track, it's noisy and awkward. Our friend up there is taking a massive risk."

"But how did this happen!" Bester repeated angrily. "The security here is supposed to be air tight!"

"It is." Chapel nodded. "This guy is better than I thought. Can you tell where the Deputy is?"

Bester closed his eyes and frowned for a few moments before shaking his head in frustration. "Nothing, I can't pick up on the Deputy's psychic activity. She should be broadcasting for help that any telepath for miles around should pick up."

Chapel glanced at the small Psi Cop. "Your people never mentioned telepaths could do that?"

He shrugged. "You never asked. The point is she is either unconscious, or she is dead."

"I doubt she's dead, not after our new friend went to all this trouble." Chapel remarked. "At least not yet."

Jenny picked up a small item from the upturned desk. "Here's another option, what's this say to you?" She tossed the small clear object at Bester who caught it and examined it, turning the glass cylinder over in his hands.

"Sleepers." He sighed. "This is one of our own batch, the drug used to suppress the abilities of telepaths who refuse to join the corps. A vial like this would have five doses in it."

"What will it do to her?"

"Completely shut down her telepathic abilities, this much would do it instantly." Bester explained grimly. "More than that, this dose would affect her physically, she'll be dizzy, disorientated, probably hallucinating. I cannot stress enough how dangerous this drug is in the wrong hands."

"Well I guess it's lucky we trust the Corps with it." Chapel sneered. "You pump other people full of this stuff, maybe this is what they call poetic justice?"

"There's nothing poetic about overdosing on sleepers." Bester snapped. "If we don't get her help within the hour she will suffer permanent brain damage!"

"Brain damage?" Chapel snarled. "I can't believe you feed this stuff to your own people just because they want to be free!"

"Guys, later!" Jenny interrupted. "He took the Deputy for a reason, we need to find him and stop him before he finishes whatever he is planning because if we're too late, Hirotsu is dead."

"How do you know he'll kill her?" Bester asked.

"Because I would." Jenny answered. "In a heartbeat, so why don't we quit arguing and take care of this?"

With no further words the trio left the room and began to form a plan.

Bester was having to fight hard to stay in control, his anger was close to boiling over and overwhelming his finely tuned senses which would have been unacceptable. He had to stay focused, had to keep his wits straight and dedicate himself to rescuing the Deputy Director. If he failed not only would it mean the death of a prominent telepath, not only would it be a massive embarrassment for Psi Corps as a whole, but it would surely end Bester's career as a Psi Cop and crush his plans for the future betterment of his race. If he was lucky he would have a job in administration, which he supposed was as much a punishment and denial of a future as jail, if he was less lucky he'd wake to find one of his blood hound units in his room, knives in hand.

Bester would not allow that to happen, and when, not if, this Dilgar agent was captured it would be Psi Corps who claimed jurisdiction and brought him back to the local headquarters. Then Bester would personally show this alien the depth of his mistake, he already had the perfect inescapable torture dreamed up. There was nothing more fascinating than observing the demons of a tormented mind given form.

"When I say 'seal the building' I mean nobody at all leaves, nobody!" Chapel said into his communicator. His voice was strained as his mind raced through dozens of possible plans and scenarios. "Get your FBI people onto this floor and start searching, let the NYPD set up a perimeter on the ground floor. And Barker, make it quick."

"You think he'll try and escape with her?" Jenny asked.

"No, but sooner or later he'll need to leave and we have to be ready."Bester rushed up beside them, having to walk faster to keep up with the taller EIA agents. "So how did he get past security?"

"I don't know." Chapel answered. "We covered every possible way in, including air vents."

"We have people and sensors on the ground floors, in the basements, on the roof, we have snipers and observers stationed in every building around this tower, we have satellite and ELINT surveillance. We have everything." Jenny scowled. "Agent Leung coordinated personally with the local authorities, he's an expert on detection equipment, that Spectre should have set off at least one trip wire somewhere!"

"Didn't your report say they wore stealth suits that hide them from detection?" Bester asked as they rounded a corner. "That they were invisible?"

"Yes, but it isn't a perfect system." Jenny replied. "It hides them from visual and infra red detection, but we have laser trip wires and pressure sensors everywhere and he can't fool them. We must have missed something."

"We didn't miss anything." Chapel cut in. "This Spectre is good, the best I've seen if he got in here without us knowing. Do not underestimate this guy, you lose it for even half a second and he'll kill you. Bester, leave this to Agent Sakai and myself, your people are way out of their league."

"What?" Bester exclaimed. "I don't think so. This is our leader we are talking about and I don't trust Mundanes to bring her back in one piece! We can handle this."

"This guy will wipe out your team with his bare hands." Chapel snorted. "Dilgar Spectres do not screw around, they've taken out SWAT teams and fully armed Airborne soldiers, you think your bloodhounds stand a snowballs chance in hell?"

"Will you guys just quit it!" Jenny snapped. "Grow the hell up! Now Bester, why don't you go away and do your thing, Chapel and I will handle this our way because if we stay together either you two will kill each other or I'll do it for you!"

Bester scoffed and turned his back on them. "So much for cooperation between the Corps and Mundanes. Just stay out of our way."

Jenny pulled Chapel to one side, staring with fury into his eyes. "What the hell is that all about? Remember why we're here?"

"That little bastard is everything that's wrong with Psi Corps!" Chapel snapped back. "Guys like him turned a good idea into a damned fascist boot camp!"

"I don't care if the grow little moustaches and start goose stepping towards Poland! We've got a job to do!"

"You've only been here a few years, you don't know what Psi Corps does to people." Chapel replied. "You think the Dilgar are sadistic? Just take a look closer to home first."

"We're going to rescue that teep woman before she tells that Spectre every classified secret she knows. That is our mission, to safeguard Earth Security." Jenny said firmly. "And then we are going to bring that Spectre back to EIA Headquarters in chains so we can interrogate him, not the damn Psi Corps!"

Chapel nodded. "At least we agree on that."

"Alright, lets think about this." Jenny breathed slowly, calming her mind and focusing on the problem. "He needs to interrogate Hirotsu, obviously he can't get her out of here for a lengthy torture session so his mission isn't to find out everything she knows."

"He wants something specific from her?" Chapel wondered. "That's even worse, it means she isn't the reason he's on Earth. He isn't here for information."

"We can worry about it later, right now we have to prevent him questioning her." Jenny cut in. "He'd want somewhere quiet but with space, he can't do it in the air vents and he can't get to a different floor with the FBI covering the lift shafts and stairwells."

"Most of this floor was emptied for the conference, he could be anywhere."

There was a loud crash from the corridor far behind them, the sound of a door splintering inwards. The two agents caught each others eye."Good place to start." Chapel suggested.

"Good for me."

They drew their PPG side arms and sprinted down the opulent hallway towards the sounds of violence.

"Like a good parent, the Corps has provided well for us." Bester grinned as his team broke open the crates they had brought with them for just such an eventuality. Bester and his three colleagues found a good selection of weapons, from side arms to Assault rifles to automatic shotguns, a truly fearsome collection of military grade firepower. Bester picked out a hefty looking black rifle from the selection and loaded it, slamming the magazine into place.

"Who needs cloak and dagger when you have one of these?"

"Sir." The female member of the team raised her voice. "I have something."

"What is it Amy?" Bester's face reflected concern and anticipation, Amy had proven to be one of the most acute of the telepaths in the Corps in terms of her gift. She didn't have the raw power of someone like Bester but she was incredibly precise and could separate any number of different thoughts from different sources and find that one clue that gave away the location of a rogue telepath. Or in this case, the Deputy Director. Bester considered her better than Radar.

"An image, just a flash, but I am positive it came from the Director."

"Do you recognize the surroundings?"

She closed her eyes and inclined her head, sifting through her photographic memory. "The image is blurred, must be the sleepers, but it is light and open. They are out of the vents."

"Go on." Bester encouraged gently. "What else?"

"She is confused and afraid. Wondering where we are." Amy's eyes opened. "She's nearby, I saw tables and chairs, a restaurant!"

"Top of the World." One of the male Bloodhounds stated. "It's on this floor, hell its almost next door!"

In addition to the conference rooms, the executive meeting rooms, and the single unthinkably expensive apartment the top accessible floor of the 10k tower also held a restaurant called 'Top of the World' which was one of the cities greatest attractions with a waiting list months long. It had been emptied for security reasons before the conference and should still be clear of patrons and workers. If Amy was sensing somebody in there it had to be their target.

"We go now, fast." Bester cocked his rifle, the team copying him. "Watch your fire, we're here for Deputy Hirotsu and we need to keep her alive. Use your mind if you can to disable the Spectre, if we take him alive we'll learn a lot more from him than if he is dead." Bester smiled. "The Deputy wanted to show the world how important the Psi Corps is to Earth, now we have a chance not to disappoint her. Let's make sure the EIA knows who brought down this ghost they've been hunting.

They ran quickly and quietly the short distance to the restaurant, grouping two either side of the double wooden doors that lead into the large facility. A quick look indicated the door was locked and Bester gave each team member their orders without saying a word. They kept completely silent as one of the team armed with a shotgun stepped back from the wall and levelled his weapon at the lock on the door.

The rest of the team tensed on either side, each was fully trained in SWAT team tactics and each was the veteran of a dozen building assaults. Their added bonus of telepathy and the ability to stun an opponent with a telepathic attack directly into their brain made them a unique and highly dangerous team, provided they could achieve line of sight long enough to deliver the psychic attack.

Bester believed in his team, but he still had one dark moment of doubt before he gave the final order. In the past they had been hunting rogue telepaths, and occasionally a simple Mundane criminal as a little practice. Every time they had been fighting essentially civilians, often violent and powerful civilians but still just ordinary citizens who had turned to crime. They'd never gone up against someone with military training, let alone someone who seemed to have given two EIA agents the jitters.

The team appreciated that this would be different and harder, but remained confident of success and their own ability to get the job done. Bester hoped it would be enough.With a telepathic command he gave the word, and braced his ears for the inevitable explosion.

Dar'ro's head snapped to the side the instant he heard the gunshot and the door splintering. Before the first debris hit the floor he was already moving and engaging his stealth suit, finding cover behind the bar of the restaurant and moving his selection of bladed weapons to an easier to reach location across his chest and waist. As a Spectre Dar'ro was trained to be an expert with any weapon and received the best equipment his people could build or steal. The particle rifles issued to elite units were works of art and beloved by their owners, unfortunately they were also too large for covert operations and their power cells would compromise his stealth suits ability to mask certain energy emissions. He hadn't been able to bring a single energy based device, nor anything which used chemicals which may have been picked up by the explosives detectors at air and space ports.

This did not mean of course that Dar'ro was defenceless. In fact Dar'ro was somewhat pleased about leaving his ranged weapons behind and relying on nothing but his blades and bare hands. Warmaster Jha'dur had told him the Dilgar were defined by challenge, that they were a race who rose to meet whatever hardship the universe threw at them. She had given him the incredible challenge of infiltrating the Earth Alliance, and then made it that much harder by removing his most advanced weapons. She had said there was no such thing as impossible, you either succeeded in your task, or failed through weakness. Dar'ro would prove he was not weak.

The black clad humans rushed in swinging their rifles left and right checking for threats. There had been no time to rig booby traps or other unpleasant surprises which meant Dar'ro would have to deal with the security forces personally. Beneath his mask of invisibility he smiled and bared his teeth.

The restaurant was a large room with tables and chairs draped in red cloths covering most of the space with a long bar curving around the inner wall of the room. Like most upper floors the outer wall was pure glass looking out over the Atlantic Ocean in a truly breathtaking vista now partially obscured by clouds.

The floor was on one level with wood panelling around the solid inner wall and a series of decorative pillars with were utterly pointless from an engineering point of view but added the desired atmosphere of the venue. Dar'ro had left the prisoner in a quiet corner, his interrogation a success, and now accepted the challenge brought to him by these humans. From their uniforms and insignia they were telepaths, a new and unique foe for the Spectre to face. With a quiet prayer to the gods he melted into his background and started moving.

"Anything?" Bester whispered as he checked the room, using every sense he had to see danger early enough to avoid it.

"No sir." A series of answers filtered back.

"Spread out, check every table and keep up your scans." He ordered. "He can hide from our eyes, but he can't shield his thoughts from us."

They moved silently apart and proceeded deeper into the restaurant, skirting around the laid tables and remaining alert for any activity. Bester was keeping his mind as open as he could, mentally aware of where each of his team was located and where they were heading. His black gloved hand was tightly gripped on the handle of the rifle he had selected and he held it firmly against his shoulder, making sure he didn't loosen up enough for his hands to start shaking in nervous anticipation and dread.

Normally Bester would appreciate silence in these situations, it meant his people were going to be a big surprise for the target, emerging suddenly into view without warning of their presence. But this time it unnerved him, there should be at least some ambient noise, some shuffling in the distance, a muffled voice heard through a wall, an ISN broadcast in a nearby living room. There was nothing, not even the gusting wind outside, it was utterly dead quiet and Bester had a terrible foreboding certainty that they were walking into a trap.

"Stop." He said. "Perimeter scan, secure this point."

The Bloodhounds turned outward, telepathically scanning in a wide arc around them looking for the tell tale signs of another living being in the room with them. They were fully trained to hunt targets in pitch darkness where their eyes would be useless, Bester believed his team would be quite capable of finding the Spectre using those techniques, but he had failed to consider one thing; darkness tended to leave both sides equally blind, but here the Spectre could move and fight freely, the Bloodhounds could not.

A knife whistled through the air, coming out of nowhere and passing within an inch of Bester's right ear before burying itself in a wooden decorative pillar behind him. His senses flashed a warning that there was a presence less than ten feet in front of him and without even thinking about it his hand tightened on the rifle and his finger depressed the trigger. For these few moments he was working on pure survival instinct with the reality around him fading away into a hazy background. He barely heard the chattering crash of his rifle or the jolting recoil of the high velocity bullets jumping out and shredding their way through the restaurant. He didn't have a conscious thought for what could have been hours, until his senses reasserted themselves and brought his primitive traits back under control. He stopped firing, feeling the radiated heat from the gun barrel against his face and smelling the chemical smoke in the air. He blinked a couple of times to establish himself back in the moment and reminded himself to start breathing again.

"Anybody see anything?" Bester managed to ask through his still taught facial muscles.

His team shook their heads, none of them looking at him and all now searching the room instead. The confidence was draining from their faces and their eyes were darting quickly left and right looking for traces of their enemy.

"I didn't sense his intentions until the knife was already airborne." Amy spoke slightly above a whisper. "We must have been looking right at him, but I got nothing."

"He's hiding his thoughts." Bester realised. "Keeping them from leaking out and warning us, exactly the same thing our Spy masters teach their students." He changed magazines, dropping the almost empty one on the ground and loading a fresh one without even looking. "This guy is very smart." Bester moved forward to examine the devastation his bullets had left, two tables and the floor around them had been chewed up and left ruined by his brief fusillade. "If you sense any danger, any at all, shoot first and keep shooting. No chances."

Bester didn't mention that it wasn't a sense of danger he had recognised, but one of amusement. The Spectre was playing with them, laughing at them from within his cloak, and that angered Bester more than if he had actually been struck by the knife.

"Bester!" the gruff voice of Agent Chapel roared from the door. "What the hell are you doing! Get out here and wait for back up!"

The Psi Cop rolled his eyes, there was no way he would let Intelligence or even worse the NYPD assume credit for bringing in the Spectre. "We can handle this, give us room to work!"

"You have no idea what you are up against!" Jenny joined in. "Fall back and seal the room! He can't get out from here, we'll fill it full of knock out gas!"

"There's no time!" Retorted Bester. "We will deal with this, why don't you stay out there and guard the door!"

"Dammit Bester, get your head out of your…"

Chapels reply was cut off by a chair further into the restaurant falling over apparently with nothing close by to cause it. In an instant the Psi Cops had opened fire, spraying bullets into the corner of the room where the movement had occurred. The chair and three tables around it exploded into splintered wood as the rounds passed through them with little difficulty, embedding themselves in the metal inner wall and furnishings behind the table. After a long few seconds they stopped firing together, ordered telepathically by Bester to wait and check out the area.

"Are you nuts!" Chapel shouted. "Where did you get those weapons from?"

"The Psi Corps looks after it's own." Bester snapped back. "Kevin, check it out, everyone else keep him covered."

The Telepath armed with the shotgun moved cautiously forward, keeping his weapon trained on the slightly smouldering and smoky remains of the little war zone. Each step crunched over broken glass thrown from the tables and underscored each thundering heartbeat of Bester's team.

The quiet was broken once more by Chapel, tempting Bester to engaging in a little friendly fire. "Well don't you think it's a little stupid to be firing hyper velocity bullets ten thousand feet in the air in a damned glass tower!"

"Will you be quiet!" Bester yelled. "Can't you understand what we're trying to do here?"

"I see exactly what you are trying to do Mr Bester, and you're going to get everyone in that room killed to make a damn political point! Now get out here and wait for the Marines!"

Bester shook his head and ignored him, focusing on his team and the job in hand. While Kevin moved to check the location of the movement Bester and the two other team members edged closer, fanning out slightly to avoid tables and keep their colleague covered. Kevin reached his destination and began feeling around on the floor with his foot, seeing if it hit an invisible body.

"I don't think we hit him sir." He reported.

"Any sign of blood?" Bester stopped and held his ground. "Anything to say we hit him?"

Kevin shook his head, glancing around. "No sir, nothing." He stepped back before something caught his eye. "Wait, I see something."

"Whatever it is," Chapel shouted from the door. "Do not pick it up!"

"Pick it up." Bester countered angrily. "It might be the clue we need."

He blotted out Chapels angry yelling as Kevin stooped to the floor, the EIA agent just wanted to see Psi Corps embarrassed. He wasn't surprised, in fact it was expected. What more could he hope from Mundanes?

"It's string sir." Kevin called.

"String?" Bester failed to stop himself sounding disappointed. "Anything else?"

"It's tied to something." Kevin continued.

"For heavens sake, get the hell away from there!" Chapel roared.

"What else is there?" Bester demanded eagerly. "What is it!"

"It's tied to…" Kevin stood up, looking suddenly very, very pale. "The chair that fell over."

One word filled all their minds, trap. Te chair hadn't fallen over because the Spectre brushed past it, it fell because he made it fall, it fell because he wanted Bester's team to see it, it fell because he wanted the Psi Cops to stand right there, exactly where he wanted them to stand. The Dilgar agent had played them beautifully, setting the stage for his main event. Bester felt genuine, total fear not just from himself but from the suddenly uncontrolled thoughts of each member of his team, they began to panic, to lose focus and begin to think about escape instead of hunting.

It was that moment of panicked uncertainty that Dar'ro had waited for, the moment when numbers turned into a disadvantage and irrationality dictated the Bloodhounds first response to danger. With one swift motion he grabbed a vase from one of the tables and threw it at Kevin, aiming it to drop just behind him and shatter in a gentle tinkling that echoed in each of their ears. Then all hell broke loose.

Kevin heard the crash behind him and acted on instinct, whirling around and pulling the trigger of his shotgun before his mind told him that he should wait and see what he was firing at first. He found himself not face to face with a Dilgar agent, but with a glass window looking out over New York city and the Atlantic ocean. The windows in the 10k tower were incredibly tough and were bullet proof to an extent, they would resist the small arms used by the Police and even the low velocity assault rifles and submachine guns used by SWAT teams, allegedly they could also hold against a hand grenade. Unfortunately Bester's senior officers hadn't considered the problems of firing weapons at such altitude and had simply decided to give him the best weapons they had, military grade rifles and a BilPro shotgun, weapons designed to mow down enemy infantry in full body armour taking cover behind walls and vehicles.

Kevin's shotgun blast punched through the window instantly, shattering the glass and blowing it outwards barely ten feet in front of him. At this height the air outside was thin enough to cause a massive gust from inside the building, the top of the tower was pressurized much like an aircraft to keep the climate pleasant for the buildings occupants, and while the loss of a window did not cause anything as dramatic as explosive decompression it did momentarily blind, deafen and disorientate the Psi Cops as they were unbalanced by the sudden icy wind.

Kevin did not recover quickly enough to even realize he was under attack. He felt two short sharp strokes across his neck which immediately made breathing difficult, it felt to him as if his lungs were rapidly flooding with water. He raised his hand to his throat to find the wetness there on the outside too, pulling his hand away to see it bright red. Oddly he felt no pain whatsoever.

He heard Bester yelling something before a powerful pressure impacted his chest, lifting him up and away before he became weightless, the world rushing past with a roaring gust of wind and noise before everything met a sudden and final conclusion.

Amy could sense Kevin's surprised calmness even as something invisible kicked him out of the now open window, and she could feel his every thought as he began the long drop to the Atlantic ocean far below. It had always been a gift to be so close to her friends and colleagues, now it was a torturous curse. With a deep rage she had never even guessed could live within her Amy pulled the trigger on her rifle, her anger burning through every mental control she could exercise and bathing the remaining telepaths in her grief and fury. It was infectious, a red disease which overwhelmed the senses of her colleagues with its pure and uncontrolled passion breaking through even Bester's barriers and triggering their own emotions. All three of them opened fire, blasting a wide path of destruction in front of them and sweeping their rifles back and forth trying to hit the murderer of their friend.

Bullets danced in the air smashing through anything they touched with the same reckless abandon as Bester's team. The tore through chairs, tables, ornaments and the decorative rails and pillars of the high class establishment. They also smashed each and every window in the restaurant, blasting them out in a rain of shimmering transparent material which dropped harmlessly down into the ocean. It was incredibly lucky the prevailing wind was blowing out to sea, if the shards of glass had landed in the city they would have been lethal after falling from such a height, as deadly as bullets.

The firing stopped as the Psi Cops finally emptied their magazines. Quickly Bester and his colleague recovered, clicking in fresh ammunition, but Amy did not. She was breathing heavily, her finger still holding back the trigger and trying to get the weapon to fire. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, a harrowing and terrifying sight to behold.

"Amy." Bester spoke quietly to her, still shaken himself by the depth of feeling that had exploded from her moments ago. "Amy, listen to me, find a corner and stay there, do you here me, stay there."

Slightly, ever so slightly, she nodded and began to step back.

This was not going as Bester had expected, he was one team member down and another traumatised beyond use, they hadn't even gotten a glimpse of their attacker yet. With a telepathic signal he closed with his last active team member, a potent P11 called Dmitri who had a particularly ruthless streak. They stood back to back, slowly circling around each other straining to detect their assailant using all the means at their disposal.

"Make your way over here!" Chapel shouted. Bester risked a quick glance over and saw he and Jenny were in the room with PPG's drawn mirroring Bester and Dmitri's stance. They made short sharp sweeps with their eyes always pointing their weapons wherever their vision fell ready to take an instant shot. The air was now utterly freezing, the heating system in the restaurant unable to deal with so much cold air rushing in and out of the broken window frames. There was the occasional whistle as a gust of wind blew past, yanking on the tattered curtains or fluttering tablecloths. Napkins were dragged out into the sky where they rippled and twisted away, blood red against the white winter clouds.

With a crunch Bester's leg was swept out from under him, an incredible and sudden pain raced from his knee and caused him to drop to the ground. Instinctively he expelled the air from his lungs in a long, silent gasping scream. He tried to roll out of the way but a massive force crashed down on his chest, snapping what felt like all of his ribs in one brutal and agonizing impact. He didn't even notice or for that matter care that he had dropped his rifle or that it had been kicked away by his attacker. He just scrunched up his eyes and gritted his teeth trying not to give the EIA agents the satisfaction of seeing him scared before the Spectre finished him.

The moment Bester went down Chapel knew they could abandon caution.

"There! He's over there!" he yelled as adrenalin began to do its job giving his senses extra definition and his muscles more power. He began to charge forward, running for the scene of the fight as Dmitri, the last standing Psi Cop, started swinging at thin air. With a rapid twist the rifle was pulled from his hand and the telepath suddenly doubled over as if something heavy had just hit his stomach. Jenny dropped to one knee and took careful aim, looking for some sort of target or opportunity to fire but finding nothing.

Dmitri recovered enough to stand taller and try to grab the Spectre, his mental control lost in the sudden pain and fear that he now felt as the Spectre toyed with him.

"Get over here!" Chapel shouted as he pushed past tables and chairs. "Stay together!"

Dmitri started to move but was stopped by a sudden pain in his chest. He didn't need to look downwards to realise he'd been stabbed. His opponent used the blade like a lever, swinging him around in a burst of pain which he could not resist before he was propelled through one of the open window frames to join his associate in the Atlantic.

Before Dmitri had left the floor Jenny and Chapel had opened fire on the area behind him hoping to hit the Spectre sending hot blazing plasma bolts out into the sky with a faint trail of vapour behind them. They ignited one of the curtains but nothing else, and ceased firing, cautiously pulling back towards one another.

"Bester, you still here?" Chapel spoke without dropping his guard. "Still alive?"

A pained grunt from the floor was answer enough.

"Stay where you are, he won't kill you until he's finished with us." Chapel flexed his grip on the PPG, it seemed ridiculously small in his big hands but it's lack of size betrayed its heavy punch. "He wants a challenge."

Jenny inched towards Chapel, turning slow circles as she moved looking for signs of imminent attack. The floor was littered with glass and splintered wood that would crack and crunch if anyone stepped on it, no matter how invisible they were. She knew Spectres were good, but had hoped that Bester's team might be powerful enough to stop him. Unfortunately the Spectre had taken a leaf straight out of Warmaster Jha'dur's teachings and turned an enemies strength into it's weakness. He had spread fear among the team, and their telepathic nature meant what one felt they had all felt. Amy's sudden emotional loss of control had dissolved the professional bonds they had expected to give them their edge and left them uncoordinated, scared and easy kills.

"A challenge?" Jenny spoke softly. "He's playing with us isn't he?"

"Of course he is." Chapel answered equally quiet. "He wants us scared so we make a mistake. He wants to make this easy for himself, to kill us without a fight because we screwed up like the Bloodhounds."

Jenny forcibly calmed her breathing, she knew she was being watched, her instincts were screaming like banshees at her to get the hell out of the room. "Ah hell, he suckered us just like he suckered Bester!"

"What do you mean?"

"He drew us into the room! We should have been guarding the door! I bet that son of a bitch is halfway to the ground floor by now!"

"No, wait." Chapel stopped and slowly shook his head. "No, he's still here, he doesn't want any witnesses. Besides, I bet he remembers us, he knows we're tracking him and killing us will make his life easier. He's still here."

Jenny tightened her grip on the PPG and froze, standing completely still in the middle of the restaurant. She closed her eyes, after all they weren't much use looking for an invisible assassin, and directed her mental focus to her hearing. An icy chill tingled her skin as a breeze passed through the shattered room, every nerve end registering the effect in crystal clarity. She could hear the curtains moving gently by the windows, a bottle rolling back and forth, she heard the rapid breathing of the telepath Amy hunched in a corner of the room. She could feel her heart beating calmly and steadily, gradually getting slower and slower, fainter and fainter. All noise filtered out of her mind, the background sounds fading into obscurity until she heard only complete silence. Except for one, tiny, crunch of glass.

Instantly she spun around and dropped to one knee firing a blast of full automatic fire from her hand gun, the red bolts streaking through the cold air towards the sound. A table flew up in her path taking a couple of hits before the plasma cored through it in acrid black smoke. There was the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps as the Spectre ran across her field of fire, by now drawing Chapel's attention and a brief volley of his own. The hissing rounds scarred the room but didn't seem to hit anything.

"Where'd he go?" Jenny called, moving swiftly to the place where the noise started.

"I lost him." Chapel spun around, pointing his PPG at the faintest noise. "Stay alert!"

Jenny bent to the ground, looking for any type of clue she could discern from the patterns on the floor. She could make out the imprint of a boot heading away, judging from the size and depth of the print on the carpet the Spectre was a tall man which matched with the brief glimpse she had seen in the hallway of the Dilgar's apartment. They had been so close to catching him then, and were even closer now if she could just find even the tiniest hint as to where he was.

She exhaled in frustration, the long breath misting in the high altitude temperature. The Spectre was always one step ahead of them, and it wasn't just the technology he possessed which gave him the edge, it was his faith. Faith in his own skills, faith in his mission, faith in the justification of his cause. She also suspected he enjoyed this task, if he was purely clinical they would have been killed as soon as they entered the room. The Spectre wanted some fun first, and that was a weakness that she could use.

She exhaled quietly, trying to think of a way to use the Spectres weakness to find him. It had already given them an opportunity, they just needed to exploit it. Once again she watched the warm breath mist and dissipate, slowly fading into transparency as its temperature equalized with the air around it. Her eyes followed the mist and locked on the view beyond looking north east out over the coastline with New York on one side and the Atlantic on the other lit in sunshine and partially obscured by clouds below her. It was amazing to be actually looking down from a building on to the tops of clouds, and she felt a brief sense of child like wonder at the concept of such an achievement. Her gaze once again was caught by the vapour of her breath drifting up and away into the bright sky.

It took her almost two full heartbeats to realise she hadn't exhaled yet. The misting breath fading directly in front of her eyes had not come from her lungs, and in a moment of true and perfect horror she concluded that there was only one place that breath could have come from. She hadn't heard the Spectre creep up beside her, the alien had lived up to his races feline similarity and approached with total stealth and absolutely no indication he had even existed. He could have cut her throat and she doubted she'd even live long enough to be surprised. For the breath to be so concentrated he had to be right on top of her, crouched where she was examining the debris on the floor just inches from her back. She had never been more terrified in her life, she was seconds away from death and didn't even know it. Every fibre of her being tensed, she slowly let out her own breath, noticing it was mistier than before, the Spectre was timing his own breathing to coincide with hers but he hadn't been perfect and she knew, she knew the danger she was in. She also knew that the Spectre did not know he had been discovered.

She had just seconds, the time between heartbeats before he acted. He was savouring the moment, taking his time and that gave her a window to act on. She had never felt such apprehension or dread, inside she was shaking with fear wanting to curl up and protect herself like a small frightened animal and her throat was instantly dry, she couldn't even call to Chapel for help. She was trapped by herself with this ghost, but fate had given her a chance, a thread of hope that she had to seize. She closed her eyes tight, breathed out one more time, then with utter conviction picked her course of action and moved.

Jenny bunched her hands together and in a sudden and vicious move drove her right elbow upwards and backwards. It connected to her eternal relief with a solid but yielding object and she heard the gasp of a winded person, a cloud of foggy breath breezing past her ear. She wasted no time, leaping up on her powerful leg muscles and spinning around in a kick aimed at chest height. It connected with something invisible and sent the Spectre crashing into a table, breaking it's legs and sending both it and the invisible guest down to the floor.

Wasting no time she pointed her PPG at the area of the table and was about to fire when a chair lifted up and struck her, kicked up by the Prone Dilgar. She gasped with the force of the impact and stumbled, losing track of where the Spectre had gone.

"Jenny!" Chapel cried out.

"Here!" she yelled in reply. "He's over here!"

She caught a glint from the corner of her eye, a bright blade thrusting towards her. She spun out of the way as it shaved past her midriff nicking her jacket. The Spectre may have been wearing invisible clothing but clearly it did not encompass his weapons, Jenny grabbed where she guessed the wrist was, seizing a solid object and twisting. There was a grunt from in front of her from the Dilgar, and she slammed the arm down on to her knee, jarring the wrist and causing a reflex opening of the fingers causing the knife to fall to the floor.

She felt a powerful hand jab into her stomach far stronger than she was and forced her to double over with a groan, her dark hair falling around her face and her hands letting go of the invisible wrist. Two points of pressure formed around her back and waist, the Spectre had grabbed her clothes and with a pull lifted her off the ground and physically threw her up and over the restaurant bar. She cruised through the air, finding the experience oddly lengthy and memorable before she hit the back of the counter, shattering a dozen glasses before rolling down and dropping hard to the floor.

Before the Spectre could finish with Jenny Chapel charged onto the scene swinging a broken table leg in a wide unsophisticated arc. His face was one of pure anger and hatred, he'd seen his partner go down and wasn't going to let anything else happen to her, whatever that took. The table leg connected with brutal force against something which dropped hard to the ground. Chapel took a guess about where the Spectre would be and brought the improvised club down in an overhead arc to the floor, grinning as it hit a body.

The joy was short lived, as he brought the club down a second time it was stopped before impact, grabbed in both hands by the Spectre. It must have taken great strength and focus to catch the blow, but this Spectre had done it and counter attacked quickly. He kicked out twice catching Chapel in the lower abdomen sending vicious pain through his kidneys Before he recovered there was a sharp impact on his chest which forced to stumble backwards, tripping on a broken chair and falling hard on to his back. He clutched the table leg and prepared to defend himself.

"Stay down!" Jenny's voice yelled, and he glimpsed a bottle of premium Whiskey fly over his head toward the Spectre. Jenny had hurled the bottle towards his attacker, and as soon as it was past Chapel she opened fire, sending a blazing hot round through the glass bottle and it's contents. The effect was like a tiny napalm bomb, the PPG round ignited the whiskey in a brief cocktail of flame raining down in a bright sheet where the Spectre had been. But this opponent was good, and the flames settled on nothing but debris, burning away the ruined table clothes and splintered wood.

"I'm fine." Chapel stood, PPG in one hand and club in the other. "You?"

"Nothing permanent." She picked a few shards of glass from her hands leaving pin pricks of blood in their wake. It could have been a lot worse. "Dammit, he's gone again!"

"He won't have gone far, not now." Chapel smiled. "Not now we've made him mad."

Jenny slowly moved out from behind the bar, once again putting her focus on her hearing. Her leg caught on something behind the bar, a large container of something she quickly examined. She smiled as she read the contents, it was food colouring used to make cocktails look that little bit more exclusive by giving them a blue tint. "Vic, I've got an idea, but I think it'll only work once." She picked up the container, a two gallon can, and stepped out from the bar.

"Well don't say it out load, we don't know if this guy speaks English." Chapel replied. "Just go ahead and do it, I'm out of ideas."

"Okay, I just need him to do something, anything." Jenny circled, keeping her PPG steady.

The sudden move came not from the Spectre, or even from the EIA agents, but from Amy the Psi Cop. She leapt up screaming like a wild animal and ran into the middle of the room to where Chapel was. He tensed, not sure what she was doing, but the traumatised telepath hurtled straight past him, arms flailing, and hit the Spectre.

"You killed them!" she shrieked, flailing ineffectively with her fists against the invisible agent. "You killed them!" she repeated pressing her attack.

It was the break jenny needed. She threw the canister up into the air, high above where Amy shrieked and screeched, and put a single round into it, breaking it open and rendering the contents airborne. Like the Whiskey bottle the liquid sprayed out and fell like a waterfall around the telepath but instead of fire it was a sheet of bright blue colour, bright blue sticky colour.

Amy coughed as she inhaled some of the mixture and broke off her attack, the blue mixture sticking to her clothes and hair. Far more noticeable, stood directly in front of her looking a little shocked, was the Spectre now covered in a film of blue liquid. Whatever his suits abilities it seemed that it did not project a field which bent light around it, but it was the material itself which caused the invisibility. By covering the material Jenny had blocked its abilities, and now the invisible man was plain to see.

Despite losing his biggest advantage Dar'ro was not about to give in to failure. Chapel was raising his weapon before the dye had even settled and without a ranged weapon of his own Dar'ro was in a lot of trouble. He grabbed the hysterical female and threw her at Chapel, the surprise move sending both of them tumbling to the floor in a heap. He didn't have time to capitalize on Chapels predicament, Jenny was already tensing the trigger for an aimed shot at the visible Spectre. He dived for the floor and rolled, two rounds coming within an inch of his body as he took cover behind a table. He grabbed the piece of furniture and clumsily threw it at the female agent, she avoided the attack but it bought Dar'ro time to move closer and attack directly.

He kicked the PPG out of her hand before she could respond, sending it tumbling into a corner. The EIA agent was nothing if not well trained and recovered instantly, blocking his second and third attacks with swift and precise movements. Dar'ro felt himself grinning, while he enjoyed the feeling of total superiority he received from killing a target who was completely oblivious to his presence, sometimes he relished a real fight. These two people from the human security services were experts, almost as good as he was, and fighting them was actually a pleasure. It was what a true Dilgar lived for.

Sadly he also had his duty, his mission here was complete and he had discovered what he needed, all he had to do now was escape. He had a plan all set up and ready to implement, he just needed to remove the two final obstacles and impediments facing him, the two agents. He used his strength to grab the next attack, grasping the females arm and using it as leverage to keep the momentum of her attack going and use it against her. He spun her around and threw her, lifting her off her feet and sending her sailing towards the open windows ten thousand feet above the ground. Before she was out he was moving back to the male agent, he had dropped his pistol in the confusion and rather than waste time looking for it he was running into battle bare handed, from the look of it utterly enraged at what Dar'ro had done to his comrade. The Dilgar grinned again, anger was such an excellent emotion to experience, and a weakness he could exploit. He took a fighting stance and enjoyed the moment.

Jenny was surprised by the Spectres speed and cursed herself for not being careful enough. She had lost her footing and was now airborne for a second time, only this time there was nothing solid to arrest her flight except for the Atlantic ocean. She was looking down with a sense of disbelief as the carpet gave way to air, and she immediately felt the change in the air from inside the tower to outside. There was no way to stop her flight, no airbrakes or parachutes, she reached out desperately with her arms trying to feel anything but air between her fingers, grasping at whatever blind luck put in her path.

Again fate took pity, her right hand caught some fabric and she instantly clutched her fist around it. It held fast and she twisted around pivoting on it, swinging out in a wide arc before coming back around and hitting the side of the tower. It was a lush red curtain, one that had been billowing outside the broken window and close enough for her to grab hold of. She was incredibly lucky, the curtain itself was half shredded and had come away from some of its fastenings, but it held suspending Jenny at the level of the floor below.

Slowly and careful she began to pull herself up and back towards the restaurant.

Chapel was not as fast as Jenny, he was not as lithe or athletic and weighed a lot more than the female agent. But that weight was not made up of fat or softness, Chapel was a bear of a man, a powerful and tough agent who had worked his way up from rough neighbourhoods through the infamous 'Hell time' boot camp which violated every regulation in the Earth Force military before working as an undercover agent among criminal organizations where violence was currency. Promotion had taken Chapel out of undercover operations, and he wasn't as young as he had been when he had built a reputation as 'The Bear' but Special Agent Victor Chapel still held vast respect in the EIA as the most vicious brawler in the organisation. Now he was proving it.

Chapel was past finesse, he was past his training in unarmed combat, he was past control, he was past caring. This alien in front of him had just thrown his partner and what he considered the brightest new agent in the EIA out of a window thousands of feet above ground, and seeing that had sent Chapel to a place he had never been, not even when he had been forced into brutal bare knuckle street fights to gain acceptance with the Beta Durani Mafia. His whole universe now consisted of himself and the Spectre, and only one of them was going to be leaving intact.

He hit the Spectre again and again and again. Strike after strike fuelled by his rage, snapping the Dilgar's head back and forth. The assault was so fast and so concentrated the Spectre couldn't react fast enough to defend himself, he just suffered hit after bone crunching hit. Each impact did not lessen is anger, if anything it made him worse. He pounded the agent without mercy, punches that would incapacitate normal men with one hit, combinations that should render the toughest street fighters stunned. Chapel had seen people die from less punishment than this, yet the Spectre still stood, wobbling and spitting blood but he did not fall.

Finally Chapel mistimed an attack, he left a moment too long between jabs and the Spectre ducked, dropping below Chapel's strike and hitting the big man hard under the ribs. Even in his fury Chapel could not ignore such a powerful impact and he was forced backwards. The Dilgar pressed his opening, landing more punches and kicks on Chapel he took each jolt with a roar of anger more than pain. He lashed out again in and upper cut which lifted the Spectre off the ground, but did not finish him off. The alien crouched down and hooked Chapels legs from under him, sending him crashing to the floor before drawing a knife and slashing it down towards the senior agent.

Chapel's left hand grabbed a metal soup dish that had been tossed to the floor at some point during the fight. He brought it across his chest in time to intercept the Dilgar knife, its blade piercing the metal but nut deep enough to touch his chest. With a snarl he yanked it to one side, the knife still attached, and disarmed the Spectre. He reached up, grabbed the mans head, and delivered a vicious head butt before throwing the Dilgar off to one side and scrambling to his feet.

The Spectre was already up and had picked up a chair. With a terrible sense of foreboding Chapel saw what was coming and turned his head away, protecting his face and chest from the inevitable attack. The chair smashed across his back with fearsome force, shattering and throwing Chapel down to the ground in numbness, is vision blurring on the edge of falling completely unconscious. He knew the next attack would finish him and it would come any moment. The moments became seconds, then ten seconds, then fifteen. Chapel risked rolling over expecting to see the gloating Spectre, but instead he just saw the wall. He tried to stand but collapsed back in agony, gritting his teeth against the pain. There wa sno way he was going to let that bastard escape, and with more effort he accepted the pain and tried to stand again.

She didn't even have a chance to catch her breath after the freezing and incredibly hard climb back into the tower. Jenny's lungs burned and she felt extremely light headed after so much exertion at this altitude, but the image she saw when she clambered back inside was enough to convince her there was no time to rest. She saw the Spectre strike Chapel with a chair and watched him drop, as her eyes followed him to the floor they rested on an item within arms reach of her, the shotgun dropped by one of the Bloodhounds. She scrambled for it, grabbing it in her hands and noisily cocking the weapon. The Spectre heard it and saw her, immediately diving for cover and leaving Chapel alone. Jenny stumbled up and quickly headed over, stepping over the by the now thick layer of debris on the floor and the growing cloud of smoke from the fire she had started by the bar.

"You okay?" she stood beside Chapel, searching for the Dilgar. With his suit compromised he was resorting to more traditional hide and seek practices.

"Apart from the pain? Yeah, pretty good."

"Try not to move, I'll flush him out." Jenny said, her tone as icy as the air. "This is going to end now before I get really angry."

She side stepped quickly and quietly away, scanning the room for traces of her opponent. This had been a true game of cat and mouse, constantly changing between who was the hunter and who was the hunted. Despite appearances right now the Spectre was the mouse, and Jenny was the gun toting cat.

"Come on out." She whispered more to herself than the Spectre. "No more hiding and sneaking. Come and get it like a man."

A table wobbled, and Jenny spotted the blue tinged Spectre dash away from his cover. On instinct she pulled the trigger, atomising the table in an explosion of splinters. The Dilgar sprinted for his life, and Jenny followed his path blasting away with the gun, smashing tables, chairs and digging vast craters out of walls and pillars that he dodged past until he finally made it around a corner.

With a gentle curse she moved quickly and carefully for the little enclave, making sure she kept her distance so the Spectre couldn't ambush her. She looped around, squinted a little as a sudden gust blew through one of the windows, and then came around the corner to see the Spectre stood close to the open apertures, the groggy form of Deputy Director Hirotsu held in his arms dangerously close to the edge of the room.

"Vic," She said loudly. "I've found the Deputy, she's alive for now."

Slowly she edged closer, keeping her eyes glued to the Spectre and the hostage. Inwardly she cursed for her choice of weapon, with a rifle or PPG from this range she could have put a round right between the Dilgar agents eyes ending the situation in an instant, but with a weapon like the shotgun if she pulled the trigger she'd be killing the Deputy alongside the Spectre.

There was a raucous of sudden shouting from behind her, followed by a series of loud thumping boot steps and orders barked in English. She calculated it was coming from the door to the restaurant and based on the jangle of equipment and the sound of boots they were probably SWAT or Counter Terrorist officers. The Cavalry arriving as late as their reputation demanded. She guessed they would have the building and floor totally sealed by now, the question was what would happen next.

"You understand me don't you?" She said clearly to the Dilgar agent. "They wouldn't have sent you here if you didn't know at least some of our language."

The Spectre paused, looking carefully at Jenny, at the black clad heavily armed men piling into the room, then out at the window beside him.

"It's over." She continued. "But that doesn't mean you have to do something stupid."

Hirotsu groaned a little, she seemed physically unhurt but was obviously not in the best of health. Her mouth hung loose and her eyes were glazed and unseeing. There was no way she could use her telepathic or even physical ability to help in her own rescue, she was completely helpless and at the Dilgar agent's mercy.

With slow and careful movements making sure the hostage still shielded him the Spectre unfastened the shroud around his head and lifted it, showing his true appearance. It was the same person from the building, unmistakeably Dilgar despite his lack of hair which seemed to be very rare among his people. He stared with large yellow eyes at Jenny, extremely reminiscent of a Tiger or Leopard not just in appearance but in the intent behind them. Jenny had seen a lot of killers in her time and they all had that same cold look in their eyes, but this man had something more, he had an arrogance there. He wasn't just an expert at his job, he took pride in it.

"There's no way out." She repeated. "Just let the Deputy go."

The Counter Terrorist unit took up position on either side of the Spectre, setting up an interlocking field of fire and making sure the Dilgar agent had nowhere to run. With calm and unfeeling expressions they armed their weapons and waited, two of them had stun guns and would try to take the first shot, a fatal shot was only to be used if necessary.

"Agent Sakai." One of the team spoke clearly. "We have orders to follow your authority. What do you need?"

"Hold on for now." Jenny said. "When I give the word, you'll know what to do."

She edged further forward, as slow as she could so not to spook the Dilgar agent too soon. There was no way this guy was going to surrender, his eyes were still filled with cold pride despite being caged in, he wasn't defeated and he wasn't going to let the Counter Terrorist unit or the EIA take him in. Jenny's only concern right now was getting Hirotsu out of his hands and making sure the Spectre didn't take her with him.

"You're a long way from home." She said quietly, slowly lowering the shotgun. With a squad of armed men surrounding them both she didn't think she'd need it anymore. "You know Earth Alliance is no threat to the Dilgar, we aren't enemies."

She looked over the edge of the floor, down again onto the cloud tops. "Our policy is to deport foreign agents, that's all." She lied, if the Spectre surrendered he be kept in a secure facility until he died. There was too much blood on the ground to just let him go. "Let her go, come with us, and it'll be alright."

Chapel staggered around the corner wincing in pain, he hobbled over and stood beside Jenny, his PPG ready to be used in an instant despite his discomfort. The Spectres eyes never stopped moving, looking back and forth trying to size up the situation. There was no escape route this time.

She reached out her hand and smiled. "Come with me."

The Dilgar took one more look at her, made a smile which could easily have been a snarl, and then pushed Hirotsu out of the window.

Jenny moved like lightning, diving forward and dropping the shotgun in the process. "Kill him!" she yelled at the team and was aware of them leaning forward as a prelude to opening fire, but the Spectre had made sure the billowing curtains caught in the wind and Hirotsu herself were blocking the teams field of fire. A couple of rounds passed close by, but were fired through the curtains behind the Spectre with little accuracy and missed the agent.

Jenny didn't notice, her whole reality was focused on Hirotsu tumbling sideways towards oblivion. She made no voluntary movement, limbs flailing loosely and head lolling like a rag doll as the wind caught her clothes and hair. She fell out the window as Jenny crashed down on the floor, arms reaching out and barely catching her jacket. The sudden jolt almost dislocated her arm and pulled her suddenly towards the precipice herself, forcing her to latch on to a skeletal window frame with her free hand. She stopped there on the edge of the building, with Hirotsu dangling ten thousand feet from the ground and held only by a very tired and injured EIA agent.

She could hear Chapel demanding the team open fire, and with the two females out of the way there was a loud clatter of automatic fire, bullets whipped by as they tried to hit the Spectre. Jenny looked right and was momentarily surprised to find herself staring into the cold eyes of the Dilgar agent, still proud and defiant. Then he was past, falling away from the tower and rapidly getting further and further away, slowly rotating and spinning as the air caught him and pushed him out towards sea.

Powerful gloved hands reached past her and grabbed Hirotsu, lifting her up and taking the strain off Jenny. Jenny herself did not stand up, she remained lying on the floor with her chin on the edge of the broken window frame watching the black speck of the Spectre dropping further and further away until he finally disappeared into a bright white cloud.

One of the officers helped her up and steadied her as she was brought to a seat and sat down next to Chapel.

"There's a doctor two floors down." The team leader informed them. "He's on his way up now with Agent Barker."

Jenny nodded, finding it hard to form words at that moment. The restaurant was a complete mess, and the Counter Terrorist team had been forced to sedate Psi Cop Amy and Bester due to his injuries, mostly broken bones and possible internal bleeding. The Spectre had done a lot of damage before his demise.

"You rescued the hostage." Chapel commented. "I'm impressed, if it was me I'd have just blown both of them away."

Jenny couldn't laugh, if Chapel had even been joking. "At least we don't have to explain to Psi Corps why their Deputy Director took a ten thousand foot high dive into the Atlantic."

"Yeah, that Dilgar just set a new world record for highest free form dive." Chapel smiled thinly. "Wonder if they'll put that in the Olympics."

Jenny managed a smile. "I'd like to know how he got in here."

"Me too." Chapel nodded. "But at least we got him, whatever he was planning on doing he won't be doing it now."

"That guy was way too much trouble." Jenny agreed. "Do you think there are more of them?"

"Out there? Yeah. On Earth? No." Chapel answered. "But he wasn't working alone, someone local was supplying him with intel and equipment, not to mention a place to stay. That's where we go next."

"Hospital is where we go next." Jenny chuckled. "Then a long, long warm bath."

"We're net to a bar here." Chapel raised a bruised eyebrow. "I don't think anyone will miss a couple of shots." He carefully stood up. "What'll you have?"

"You know how to make Jovian Sunspots?" she grinned widely.

"I know how to make Bourbon on the rocks." He said looking over the bar. "Or I can introduce to my old friend Jack Daniels."

"I'll take you up on that." she decided, then looked out again at the view. She could see why this restaurant was so exclusive, there wasn't a sight on Earth like this. She was just glad she was still around to see it.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 40

Geneva

The rain beat down hard on the car windscreen glazing it with a sheet of water that distorted the world beyond. The wipers flicked back and forth providing momentary glimpses of clarity at what lay beyond, before once again the down pour turned everything surreal. The gentle hum of the engine and the rhythmic sweep of the wipers was almost like a mechanical lullaby, and the rocking of the vehicle as it drove along was certainly not helping keep the passenger awake on the spacious back seat. Jenny had to fight hard to keep her eyes from closing, but it was a battle she could not win forever.

The hunt for the Spectre had ended in a hollow victory, he was gone and had been unable to fulfil his mission, but the Earth Intelligence Agency hadn't managed to take him alive and would likely never know what his reason for being on Earth was. Their main concern now was finding the support mechanism the Spectre had used and infiltrating or destroying it so the Dilgar could not send another agent to finish what the first had started.

The sky suddenly lightened, and as quickly as it started the rain stopped giving way to bright and crisp sunshine. The drumming of water on the roof and windows stopped and brought Jenny back from her restless sleep just in time for the journey to end. Silently the car trundled to a halt in front of the EIA HQ building itself leaving a faint spray behind its wheels as it moved to the entrance way. The doors swung open with a gentle touch and Jenny laboriously dragged herself out of the vehicle and out into the damp air. With a small sigh she closed the car door and headed inside.

The lobby to the building was almost a second home to her now, most days she couldn't even remember what it was like not to be on assignment for Earth. When she stopped for long enough to examine memories of her youth they almost always gravitated to the time she spent on starships, usually freighters and other civilian vessels. She had spent a few years in the Earth Forces before being Cherry picked for EIA training and in that time she'd travelled on troopships and a Dreadnought once, but the atmosphere and camaraderie on those military ships was very different to that on a tramp freighter, and she found she preferred the latter.

Her family ran it's own business operating small ships from Mars with relative success. Mostly they handled small transport jobs but had recently invested in a small survey ship that her sister Danielle took incredible pride in operating. Jenny had grown up on those ships just like her friend Paul Calendar had, which was probably why she had been accepted so quickly onto the Space Race. She might be an EIA agent, but at heart she was always going to belong out there on a small ship. Maybe the EIA wasn't her real calling after all, and once the Dilgar threat was over she might need to re-evaluate her life.

"Jenny? Is that you?"

She heard the voice behind her and turned, recognizing Francis. She greeted him with a smile.

"I didn't think you'd be back so soon." Francis smiled back, quickly turning to a scowl. "You look like hell."

"You don't look too bad yourself." She quipped. "You need to work on how you talk to girls." Jenny added with a chuckle.

"Sorry." Francis answered a little sheepish. "I guess you've been busy."

She let out a long breath. "You don't know the half of it. I'll probably be able to talk about it later, I think you're going to be busy for the next few weeks working with me on this."

"Did the information I found help?"

"It helped a lot." Jenny congratulated. "Really it did, it was vital and I'll make sure the Director knows that."

"Director Durban?" Francis raised an eyebrow. "He seems a nice guy."

"He is, if you are on his side." Jenny nodded. "If you're his enemy though, well with us that's never going to happen. I'm going to brief him in person in a couple of minutes."

Francis suddenly looked concerned. "Didn't Agent Chapel go with you? Did he come back?"

She smiled again, bright even though she was tired. "He's fine, he just had to pick up some pain killers from the hospital. Long story, and I'm sure you will be told it but the Director needs to hear it first."

"I understand." Francis nodded, clearly accepting of his new life of secrecy. "I'm just finishing up here then I'm heading home to get some rest, I was working all of last night on a project the Director assigned to me."

"You made a friend." Jenny beamed. "Mr Durban likes you, you can tell because he's making you work twice as hard as anyone else."

"Is that a good thing?"

"The best." Jenny confirmed. "He wants to see what you can handle. He trusts you, which makes you one of about five people in the world I know about." She nodded. "Just keep doing what you are doing, he has his reasons."

"I was tracking computer records, back tracing…" Francis began.

"You can tell me later, I really gotta go." She said apologetically. "Then we both need rest, drop me a message tomorrow morning okay?"

He nodded. "Okay. And it's good to see you back. I mean it."

"Not as good as it is to be back." Jenny started moving away. "I'm proud of you Francis, you keep up the good work."

"I will." He said as she headed towards the security desks to the left. "I will." He repeated quietly to himself, accepting the faith and the mission he had been given.

As far as Francis was concerned life in the EIA was nowhere near as hard as he had imagined when he stepped of the plane a couple of months ago. Sure the hours were long and sure he couldn't tell his family and friends about what he was really doing despite it being incredibly important, but he realized the restrictions were for everyone's safety, including his family. If an alien agent learned of Francis' work they could threaten his family and use them as leverage. Apart from the Director and the senior administration none of the EIA operatives were allowed to mention their real jobs to anyone. Jenny's family thought she was still with the army, Agent Leung's family thought he was an I.T manager and of courses Francis' family thought he worked for an export company.

He kept in touch with them, and although his emails and video messages were monitored he didn't feel like his privacy had been invaded too badly, the censoring was done by computer not an individual so the only human eyes to see his messages were his own and the intended recipient, usually his parents or his school friend Dermot who was currently studying for finals at college. It was a life Francis could have been living, a normal life for someone his age, but instead he had chosen this career, while it may have been under a little duress, and truthfully he had never looked back.

He moved to a security station and swiped his identicard through the scanner. While the machine read the card four other hidden sensors were checking his facial features, voice pattern as he spoke to the guard, and DNA from the surface of his card.

"Back again Mr O'Leary?" the guard smiled pleasantly.

"I left something running upstairs, just need to see what it turned up." He answered and took back his card. "Then I'm going to sleep for a week!"

The guard chuckled. "You're all clear sir, pleasant dreams."

With a grin he passed through the checkpoint, registering the automated defences ignoring him. The staff here were very pleasant and well mannered, even the stressed ones. He guessed it came from knowing that no matter how hard and infuriating the task they were given might be, it had a greater purpose and was fulfilling. It wasn't an easy job, not for anyone, but it was undoubtedly worth it.

He looked over his shoulder and spotted Jenny disappearing into a doorway on the other side of the lobby, he couldn't deny that he was amazingly glad she was back from New York in one piece, and had seen how exhausted she was, not to mention the bruises and bandages she had tried to conceal. Whatever had happened out there it hadn't been easy, and if Chapel was at the hospital it must have been tough for the both of them. However they were back, and that made Francis incredibly relieved.

His information had sent them out there, and he couldn't help but feel responsible for getting them into that situation. He felt guilt for every cut he'd seen on Jenny, and that odd sensation was really starting to grow in him. Hopefully now he knew his friend was back safe the guilt would slowly diminish, it was a symptom of the other feelings he held for the attractive agent.

Quickly burying those thoughts he stepped into the closest lift and pressed for his floor, the doors clanging shut and the slightly queasy sensation of the rising lift distracting him enough so that his mind moved into its clinical analysis mode. During school he had found that he had the ability to completely alter the way his mind saw things, from the usual cluttered thoughts of someone his age had day in and day out to a far more clean and mathematical view of things. It was a cold and distant place and not something he slipped into when dealing with people, but it was ideal for his job working with codes and computers.

The doors opened and Francis headed towards the lab, making straight for the coded door to the main isolation lab. The floor was split into a number of separate departments all based on decoding and interpreting intercepted communications. The majority of rooms were open plan filled with work stations and computer terminals where the different agents and operatives worked together to process the information they were given. However there were one or two clean rooms and isolated labs where especially sensitive work was carried out, one such room contained the captured remains of the Spectre's computer, another held the scarred data trays recovered from the EAS Persephone. Francis however was heading to a third room where he had left a project running for the past two days trying to glean some information from Dilgar communication intercepts picked up by the ill fated Persephone before its destruction.

So far everything he had taken from the Dilgar intercepts had been gibberish, only the information on the shattered hard drive of the Spectre's computer had really contained anything useful. Whatever encryption the Dilgar were using was far beyond the EIA to crack, they had an almost infinite amount of computer power working on it, thousands of vast processors linked across the globe the size of small cars were going through every possible combination of letters and symbols with no result so far. He had even watched hours of Dilgar broadcasts picked up by Earth Force Communication ships operating in neutral space near the League for an insight into how they thought and what ideas they might use, everything from their legends to their popular culture. He had nothing, only that he had a Warmaster called Jha'dur to thank for devising such a devilish method of communication.

He had hoped that the information on how Dilgar computers operated would give him some insight into tracing the signals more accurately from the Earth based agents out to their paymasters in Dilgar space itself.

The heavy door swung open, it wasn't a static free room so he didn't need to go through a lengthy decontamination process first and he stepped straight in heading for the one active terminal in the room.

"Let's see what you have." He muttered to himself and observed the readings on screen, a complex pattern of frequencies and wave lengths. It was a tangled mess of different carrier waves, rather than using a single signal to communicate with Dilgar ships used hundreds. That was the source of the EIA problem, they didn't know which signal carried the actual data and which were decoys, so they were having to decode every single carrier wave to try and find the right one.

"What am I missing?" he looked at the oscilating patterns on the screen. "The Dilgar know which frequency is right, so why can't we?"

The frequencies moved together but at slightly different times, with slightly different wavelengths. One of them had to be the real message, but finding the message itself was proving as hard as trying to decode it.

Then something jumped off the screen, something the pattern of the transmissions registered in his mind.

"Oh, no, you did not make it that simple!" he began to smile. "Youe sneaky little cat, that's exactly what you did didn't you?" he laughed in triumph and slotted a data crystal into its port. "You had us all looking in the wrong place!"

Smiling widely, hitting the download button. "That's the secret isn't it? The message isn't sent in the frequency, the message is the frequency! Different frequencies act as different codes, they tell you what decryption key to use."

The computer bleeped finished and he whipped the data crystal containing the information out of its socket.

"Different frequencies represent different letters of the alphabet or numbers! Combine the frequencies and you get words and messages!" he didn't care that he was shouting to himself, it had taken him a lot of effort to put this programme together and finally it had paid off. The secret to the Dilgar messages was cracked.

"Clever trick Jha'dur, hiding the message in plain sight right under our noses!"

He turned and bolted for the door. "Damn, Leung's gonna kiss me when he sees this!"

He raced out, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being watched, and had been for the last three hours.

Dar'ro could feel the anticipation building, the exultation of success was near enough to taste. He could actually see the reason he was sent to Earth, he was in the same room as it, it was within arms reach and he had truly earned it.

This mission had been the hardest he had ever even contemplated trying. He was dozens of lightyears from the nearest Dilgar ship, he had no way out if things went bad and these humans had displayed a talent for ruining his day. That last encounter had come close to killing him, and he had been forced to execute his escape plan earlier and in a less favourable circumstance than he had planned. Leaping from the tallest building he knew of was not something to be undertaken lightly.

Dar'ro had hoped to take the human security by surprise when he kidnapped the Psi Corps Deputy Director, he had hoped that the humans would not entertain the thought that he would be so audacious or downright suicidal to attempt such a thing ten thousand feet from the ground with no chance of escape. But he had, and annoyingly the humans had been ready for him. After all the effort made by his contact in identifying the target, finding her schedule and when she was most vulnerable, supplying the telepathic suppression drug and then showing him a way past the intricate electronic security systems it had almost all been for nothing.

But as always he had found a way. His Warmaster had trusted him and him alone with this task and he knew how important it was to his people and to Jha'dur personally. She had faith in him when no others could care less, and he would walk into hell and pick a fight with the devil if she ordered him to because of that belief. Compared to that walking into the HQ of the best intelligence agency he had seen was no challenge. He had concluded from his encounter with the EIA agents that the humans knew their business better than that fool Len'char and his sycophants and were second only to the legendary Centauri secret service. Give them more time and technology and they would probably end up eclipsing them too.

But for now that lack of technology was Dar'ro's key to success. They had been unable to pick up on his changeling net and by sticking close to people as they entered and exited rooms he was able to gain access to secure locations in the building without triggering any alarms. It was textbook infiltration and it was about to pay off.

He had endured a small moment of uncertainty when he saw the female agent in the lobby, the same one who had twice nearly caught him during this mission. He would have dearly loved to kill her then and there, she was a serious obstacle and would make any future mission incredibly difficult. But he had his duty to Jha'dur to get the information she had requested, and killing an agent would make that impossible. There was plenty of time for that later.

The escape from her had been exhausting, when he went up the tower he had known he could not escape through the ground floor, he was going to have to jump no matter what. His original plan had been to jump on the landward side of the tower rather than the seaward side as he had been forced to do, the high winds coming in from the sea had caught him full on instead of being broken by the mass of the building and had given him a severely bumpy ride. When arriving on Earth Dar'ro had used a parachute made from the same material as his stealth suit to avoid detection by Earth air control, a vastly inefficient use of the material but Jha'dur insisted he was provided with it, and it turned out with good reason.

He had used the highly compact item to land safely miles inland and far from the authorities who were no doubt trying to find his invisible body somewhere in the Atlantic. He smiled at the thought. The telepath had been very helpful to him, as his contact had said she had been in full possession of the information he needed, namely the location of the data recorders of the Earth warship Jha'dur's battlegroup had destroyed. The Deputy had obviously scanned one or two high ranking people to gather this information as he doubted the EIA or Earth Force command would tell the Psi Corps precisely where the recorders were, and Dar'ro felt a moment of pity for his human opponents. If they controlled the telepaths in the same way the Warmasters did back home Earth would have an incredibly useful intelligence asset, they had become to lax and accepting of Psi Corps and had put themselves in a situation which was doomed to end in violence sooner or later.

When he found what he needed he had given her an even stronger dose and was ready to leave when he had been discovered and forced to improvise. The Deputy wasn't going to be lucid for a long time, long enough for him to vanish with the data before they even knew he was coming. He'd have preferred to drop her from the window too, but ultimately it wasn't going to affect his plans. He had stowed away on an aircraft heading for Geneva and then slowly infiltrated through the perimeter and into the Earth Gov compound itself. The area was crawling with troops and electronic devices, but once more his contact had come through with highly classified maps and left them in a location where Dar'ro had found and used them. Now he was at the heart of Earth Intelligence and nobody would ever know.

He stepped up to the terminal the young human had been at and placed a data crystal of his own in the socket. The original records were sealed in a tamper proof room and there was no way even with his stealth system Dar'ro could retrieve them, not that it would do much good. By now they had been copied dozens of times and the information was securely held across the Alliance, destroying the originals now was pointless. However this terminal was linked directly to them and it was a simple task to initiate a straight forward download.

Earth wanted the information to see how Dilgar ships performed in battle so they could prepare their crews. Conversely Jha'dur wanted the data to see how Earth Force crews performed when they fought Dilgar ships so that she could make the exact same preparations in relation to her own forces. They couldn't deny Earth that information at this stage, but at least the Dilgar could still gain something from it. The download ended and Dar'ro took the crystal and hid it in an internal pocket within his suit, hiding it away from sight. Inwardly he took a moment to savour his victory, the hardest part of this mission was over, finding and getting past security for this one crystal had been the challenge of his life, but the sense of elation now he had done it was indescribable. The Warmaster was right, nothing is impossible and by setting such a task an then achieving it, the feeling was just beyond his imagination.

There would be time later. He redressed his senses, cleared away the distracting thoughts and placed his focus once again entirely on the mission. Getting out was going to be a lot easier than getting in, but it was still going to be hard work and he had to be incredibly careful. It would be embarrassing to come all this way and get killed at this point.

The door was easily opened from the inside, it only needed a code to get in, not out. Dar'ro cautiously stepped checking his surroundings making sure nobody could see the door apparently opening on its own accord. With the coast clear he swiftly headed down the corridor towards the lift and waited for someone to come along and use their clearance to activate it and take him down to the ground floor. He didn't need to wait long.

An immaculately dressed woman walked up to the doors and swiped her card through, then pressed one of the buttons. Dar'ro moved a little closer to her and prepared to move, she showed no indication that she was aware of him and that amused the Spectre no end. He was a ghost.

The doors slid open and he followed her in, avoiding her as she turned and falling in behind her again as she sent the lift car down. It sealed itself and began to drop, longer than Dar'ro had hoped. Instead of reaching the ground floor it came to a stop in the basement down on one of the sublevels. Dar'ro kept his patience, he could have pressed the button himself now he was inside the lift to go back to the ground floor, but he guessed that sooner or later somebody would want to call the lift to that floor. Probably sooner. He settled quietly at the back of the car and watched the woman leave.

Outside the car his gaze was caught by the room beyond. Open mouthed he stepped forward for a better look, leaning out of the lift doors and craning his head to take in the contents of the room in front of him. Row after row of super computers filled the floor, literally hundreds of them all linked in with each other. Dar'ro had known that Earth had surprisingly good technology, if a little unsophisticated compared to other races, but it was the scale that surprised him.

The machines hummed gently as technicians examined them, tweaking a few buttons and adjusting wires. Dar'ro had never seen so much computing ability anywhere on any of his missions, even Dilgar fleet command only used a fraction of this power for its operations. It just wasn't logical to have such a vast amount of equipment, the cost must have been unthinkable and would have caused most races to laugh at the idea. But not humans.

The more Dar'ro thought about it the more it made sense. No race would spend such a vast amount of money on something like this, but here it was. No race would invest so much resource in creating a tower ten thousand feet high just because it was big, but there it was in New York City. No race would buy missiles for hundreds of thousands, even millions of credits apiece, and then fire them by the hundreds to defeat one single target, but documentary footage from World War Three had shown the different nations do exactly that. Humans didn't look at the cost, they looked at the result and accepted whatever was necessary to get there.

That could be an incredibly dangerous trait. If it was true of computers than why not warships? He had seen the pictures taken from the galaxy net of Earth Warships given to him by Jha'dur and had been awed by the Dreadnought class ships. They were incredibly expensive to build, they had to be, and most races would have just a handful of them. The Warmaster council had come to that exact conclusion, they agreed Earth ships were powerful if primitive, but were so resource intensive to build and maintain they would be very limited in number. Now all of a sudden Dar'ro was not so sure, he was beginning to understand that Earth wasn't some poor little world with a few colonies, they had some serious muscle behind them and the willingness to spend vast sums to hold onto their possessions.

He knew Jha'dur would agree with him, that these examples proved the council had been dead wrong about writing off Earth as no real threat. If they built expensive ships in vast quantities there could be thousands of massive warships out there, and even more small but tough escort ships and fighters. The data crystal in his pocket suddenly wasn't nearly as important as this new revelation, the Dilgar would understand Earth and humanity a lot better because of what he had seen, not what was on this data crystal. It was imperative he warn Jha'dur immediately, this was the single most important piece of information about any culture he could think of, it was the whole key to fighting humans if it ever came to that. If Earth ever went to war it would be total, they would throw absolutely everything they had into battle without holding back with the single goal of victory. Even the Dilgar weren't ready for that. For all the battles they had fought they had never encountered an enemy like that, and with the stretching of their forces already affecting the advance they could not afford to meet an opponent with the strength and doctrine of Earth force.

Dar'ro needed to act.

The doors closed, leaving the Spectre shaken inside. His mind quickly raced through options and consequences for his mission. He had been sent to Earth to find evidence about what level of threat humanity would be to the Dilgar expansion. Nothing summed that up better than what he had seen, it not only fulfilled his mission it could alter the course of the war. So far the humans had only made a statement about the Markab, an empire on the Dilgar hit list. If the Dilgar fleet attacked Markab the Council believed Earth would back down, that they had no stomach for a real fight and no means to adequately face the Imperium. Jha'dur was not so sure, she was far more wary of humans but didn't have the concrete evidence to convince the more reactionary Warmasters senior to her.

Dar'ro now had that evidence, he had something that Jha'dur had not even guessed and he needed to tell her. If this mission only yielded one result this had to be it, it was critical for her to receive this message. Critical enough for him to risk everything for. He would send the message as quickly as he could, even if it risked detection and would then rely on his abilities to get him to safety just as they had done before.

He forced himself to calm down, to breath and to make a plan. It did him no good just to run to the first terminal and send the information direct to Jha'dur, he had to give himself a chance of escape and that meant finding the right place to transmit from. There were plenty of high powered tachyon communication towers around, it was after all the centre of government. All Dar'ro needed to do was find a remote one, send the message, then escape before the security services could react. It didn't have to be a suicide mission.

The lift moved, rising up to the ground floor and Dar'ro prepared to make his move, steeling himself and getting ready to complete this mission with a success none of his superiors had considered. He wasn't doing this for personal fame or glory, he was doing it for one reason alone. Because somebody believed in him.

Francis opened the doors to the EIA building and stepped out with a wide grin on his face, he was feeling incredibly pleased with his work and the expression of barely restrained envy on Agent Leung's face. He knew it was wrong, and he did respect the work Leung did, but Francis couldn't help feeling just a little bit smug at making such a major break through by himself. It was just the first step in the process, he had found the key but it was still going to take time for the number crunchers to actual work out what the transmissions were actually saying, but Francis felt like the hard work was over.

He had been released to go and get some rest, which he was going to enjoy a lot more now he didn't have to worry about getting his job done. It was with a sense of elation he headed out across the small pathways and made for his apartment in the large living block set aside for those with full time jobs with Earth Gov. It was a fairly spacious apartment with a basic living room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom all pre furnished and rent free, which was quite a rare show of generosity from the government. He hadn't made much effort to personalise it yet, just a few trinkets he had brought with him, and his job had the effect of keeping him out most of the day. Still it was rapidly turning into his first real home away from his family and he was growing comfortable with the idea.

The sky above was beginning to darken again as dark clouds moved over the sun and brought the chill back to the air. Francis was quite glad he was heading for some rest, it didn't look like it was going to be pleasant weather to be out in and he absently tugged the collar up on his coat while quickening his pace. It wasn't far to the Apartments but he made a mental note to think about investing in a bike.

With his head down he almost walked into another person coming from the opposite direction on the same path and had to quickly adjust his course, looking up and muttering a quick apology before he recognised who it was.

"Tom." He said. "I didn't see you at first."

"It's alright, I didn't see you!" the other man replied jovially. "How are you?"

"Tired." Francis knelt down and stroked Tom's dog, Gretal. The black and tan Alsation was a regular site in the grounds and was friendly to the rest of the staff at the EIA. She licked Francis' hand and approved of his attention.

"Been busy?" Tom asked.

"Very, you guys over in translation should be getting some stuff through soon." The younger man confirmed. "I think we might have finally broken the back on this one."

"About time." The fellow agent sighed in agreement. "Hopefully it will make the job of planning and analysing Dilgar procedures easier for the military intelligence people."

Francis hadn't met anyone from the EIA's sister service, Earth Force Intelligence, but had heard them mentioned a lot. While the EIA was technically a civilian organisation Military intelligence was naturally run by the Generals and Admirals at Earth Force command. The EIA tended to focus on the job of finding and neutralising threats to Earth and gathering general data on alien governments while Military intelligence was more focused on the specific war making abilities of potential enemies. Often the two interests crossed over as in this case and both groups had been hard at work trying to crack the Dilgar communication codes.

"Let's hope so." Francis fussed over the dog a little more. "You wanna treat girl? Sorry, I just got out of work." He held his hands up. "I got nothing, but I'll make sure I'm packing for your walk tomorrow morning."

Gretal seemed to get the message, but wasn't overly concerned and gave him a look which Francis guessed meant she wasn't finished with petting yet. He gave her flank a good pat and smoothed down the coat a little.

"With all the treats the staff give her I'm surprised she isn't twice this size." Francis grinned.

"Plenty of exercise." Tom said. "She gets walked at least four times a day, and she gets a good work out in the park."

"Where do you find the time?"

"We all help out, Agent Sakai is going to be taking her for her net run later today, assuming she gets out of the briefing on time." Tom shrugged. "Gretal isn't short of friends, she's our unofficial mascot."

Suddenly the Alsation began to growl, a low rumble which took Francis by surprise. He quickly moved his hand and stood up, moving back. "What did I do?" he asked with a hint of nerves.

"Nothing." Tom frowned. "Gretal, what's wrong girl?"

The dog continued growling, its teeth bared and ears flattening back against her head. Tom had to put some weight behind the leash to hold the dog in place.

"What's she growling at?" Francis followed Gretal's eyes but saw nothing but the EIA building in the distance. There wasn't anybody moving around and most workers were heading indoors to avoid the inevitable rain. "Is it the weather?"

"She's an Alsation, she isn't stupid." Tom grimaced as he pulled on the leash. "Something's spooked her, but I can't tell what! She hasn't acted like this before!"

Gretal began barking loudly, a harsh call that set Francis' ears ringing. She began to dart back and forth, her face moving as if whatever spooked her was getting closer. He felt his heart miss for a second as she looked right at him, snarling and braying, before her attention moved past and focused again on thin air.

"Do you want me to go find help?" Francis was getting more concerned now, and just a little scared. Gretal had a kindly nature but she was a big animal and those teeth did not look inviting. She was straining hard on the leash and Tom was having to brace against her and pull back with both hands. "I wish I'd brought a treat!"

"I don't think it's that." Tom grunted. "I don't know what it is, this isn't right!"

Gretal reared up on her hind legs and then leapt forward with a burst of strength, enough o make Tom stumble and lose his grip on the leash. Gretal tore away like a bolt, loping across the grounds towards the Apartment building Francis had been heading for. Both men began to run after her and give chase, but the dog was easily outpacing them and charging away.

Francis had spent a little time around animals but never really understood them, and certainly nothing about their psychology. He knew they could suffer mental breakdowns and psychotic episodes just like people could, but he had no idea why Gretal would just snap like that. The fact that it happened while he was petting her made him especially disturbed. He hoped all this wasn't his fault, especially if the poor animal attacked someone in her demented state.

Gretal leapt into the air for no apparent reason and seemed to hit something, and something big even though neither Francis of Tom could see anything. She rolled on the ground snarling, jaws buried and clamped down hard on a solid object neither of them could see. It took a few seconds, but then something changed, with a ripple of darkness a figure materialised, a hazy dark form coalescing into a clear human shape, a shape with Gretal latched firmly onto one arm.

"Holy…" Francis began.

"You were going to get help." Tom snapped. "So bloody move!"

Without a second glance Francis ran for the Apartments yelling at the top of his lungs. He'd never seen anyone like that before but from the briefings it seemed obvious whom they were dealing with. He needed help and fast.

For Dar'ro it was an entirely unexpected circumstance. He had seen the canine creature stood with the two humans and had discounted it, he knew that it was fairly common among some races to adopt weaker creatures as companions to make themselves feel better. He found it rather amusing, but realised a lot of Dilgar felt the same way about what they were doing to the races of the League. The difference being the Dilgar were not so lenient in their treatment of their lesser companions. The animals were there to make the humans feel nice and superior, a constant reminder they were at the top of their little food chain and that was all. He did not conceive that they might actually have affection for the animals, and he certainly did not guess that the animals themselves were anything less than domesticated.

The teeth digging into his arm were a convincing counter argument.

The animal was snarling and each shake of its head set the teeth in deeper and caused even greater pain, Dar'ro gritted his teeth refusing to cry out as the weight of the creature pushed him to the ground, its eyes glaring at him from behind its long jaw.

He brought his free hand around and latched his fingers under its jaw, registering that he could now see his hand and arm which meant his stealth system had shorted out, no doubt thanks to this beasts teeth cutting one of the wires. He pried at the teeth, but the animal was definitely not going to let go. Even worse its owner was running straight at them.

With a grunt of exertion he rolled and shifted his weight, then grabbed out and took the creature by the throat, squeezing hard. Still the dog did not let go, if anything it applied even more force and now began to shake its head from side to side, tearing at the flesh of his arm.. He could here shouts and noticed a person running towards a nearby building, his cover was blown completely and utterly, he was isolated out in the open and had seconds before the entire facility came crashing down on top of him. The time for subtlety was past, he had to finish this mission before the mission finished him.

He withdrew a needle like stilleto blade and jabbed it through the Alsation's chest. It instantly let go with a yelp and backed off, then growled again and poised to attack. He jabbed again, drawing another yelp and forcing the dog back far enough for him to rise to his feet. Then without pausing he turned and he ran, the injured dog attempting to give chase but not for long. It's wounds forced it to stop, dropping low to the floor and breathing heavily.

Compared to the animal the owner was no challenge, he surprised the man with a snap kick to the chest and then a powerful strike to the side of his head dropped him cold to the floor. Then he turned and ran.

Dar'ro really wanted to finish that beast off, his arm was dripping blood and his suit ruined, but he didn't have the time. It was enough that it wasn't following and now he needed to find cover until he could locate a transmitter to send his final report directly to the Warmaster.

He was closest to a plain looking red and yellow brick building, totally unremarkable in design and lined with windows extending three floors high. Unlike the EIA Headquarters it did not have security on the door or a wide range of security measures, it just looked like a regular residential building and that suited Dar'ro. One of the humans he had passed disappeared inside and left the door gaping behind him, beyond Dar'ro noticed a conventional looking corridor with no reception or automated security inside, more reason to take refuge here.

His panic was subsiding as he set himself this new plan. It was far from over, if he could find a quiet place to hide he could effect some field repairs and get his stealth suit operational again, maybe even set it to look like one of the human residents of this place so even if more animals tried to attack him their owners would assume he was just another worker here. He had made a mistake trying to pass for invisible, he should have tried to look like a high ranking official and use his feigned authority to avoid awkward questions.

His pulse was slowing, coming back under his control and he regulated his breath, long slow and steady as he ran to the building. There were still no alarms blaring and no indication he had been spotted, he had time and had to use it. His life was not as important as failing in his cause, whatever happened Jha'dur had to share his insight into humanity, it could mean everything.

Francis had been scared before, but as he burst into his apartment building he had a taste of real pure terror. It was like nothing he had imagined, films did not even come close to doing it justice, this was an all consuming emotion which totally overwrote his other senses, including logic. It wasn't until he hit the wall opposite the door that he realised he'd have been better running the other way towards all the armed and trained guards at the main EIA building. Right now with everybody at work this apartment building would be completely deserted.

He actually laughed out on the brink of hysteria, it was such a completely stupid mistake to make he couldn't understand it. It was worse than watching somebody in a horror film go slowly into that dark basement where you know the serial killer is hiding. He deserved to be laughed at, just how dangerous the situation was lost on him for the moment. The moment did not last, on the other side of the door he saw the black clad figure, the man he knew to be a Dilgar agent. He was running straight at him.

The urge to panic rose again and threatened to overpower him, leaving the young codebreaker a pile of shivering jelly on the floor. Why was the Dilgar agent here? Had it come to kill the man who had cracked their codes? How did they know? Francis couldn't reason, he was too far beyond reason and rational thought at this point. He could only see two facts, the Spectre was coming and the Spectre would kill him, whether it was his mission or not.

Something took over in his head, an almost mechanical process put their by nature to make sure he survived. His instincts told him in no uncertain terms to move, they also pointed out that he should think about arming himself. As if it were happening in some distant corner of his brain a memory reminded him he had a hand gun in his apartment on the second floor, something he had bought a week ago and never really used. It wasn't much, but it might be enough. He turned away from the door and ran for the stairs right as the Spectre burst in through the outer door.

Heather Laney did not look on the surface to be a logical candidate for employee of the month at the EIA. She wore loose fitting clothes which were invariably black or had once belonged to a member of the military two or three sizes larger than her. The items were usually ripped in a fashionable way and grounded in a pair of heavy duty Marine Corps combat boots. She wore contrasting makeup and silver jewellery along with her most recognizable feature, her bright purple hair. She could have passed as lead singer in a Neo-Punk band, but she was instead one of the stars of the code breaking and data analysis section.

She had been recruited in much the same way as Francis, a little illegal activity had tipped off the authorities while the sophistication of her hacking and cracking had flagged a little notice with Earth Intelligence. She was given the bleak option of going to jail, or joining the Intelligence community with a very generous wage and her own apartment in Geneva. She went for the latter, and hadn't regretted it in the last year she had been here. It wasn't the glamorous spy life she expected, it was hard work but generally speaking pretty tame. Nothing really exciting had happened to her until she stepped out of her ground floor door slightly late for work and was bowled off her feet by the new guy.

Francis was looking over his shoulder at the Spectre as he ran down the corridor and completely missed the door open in front of him open and one of his co-workers step out. He ran straight into the Purple haired girl and they collapsed into a heap on the floor.

"Dammit Francis, what the hell?" Heather snapped. "How did you not see me?"

Francis did not even waste time answering, he scrambled to his feet, grabbed her arm and yanked her up.

"Get off me! I thought you had manners, not even an apology or…"

Finally she noticed the other person and was shocked into silence. The face looking at her was alien and almost feral, snarling and watching her. Its left arm was limp and covered in blood while the right hand held a hard steel knife low. She knew as quickly as Francis had that this was the Spectre they had been trying to find for all this time. Her reaction was similar to his, but much faster. She followed Francis and ran.

Franis knew he wasn't going to make his apartment before the Spectre buried a knife in his back, even injured the Dilgar was far fitter than he was and after his fall he had lost most of his lead. Now with Heather in trouble too he had to very quickly change his plan and try to find a way to outwit this agent, because he certainly couldn't out fight him.

He only saw one opportunity, immediately beside Heathers door was the access door to the basement. It wasn't much of an option, but it was a way out of the corridor and gave them more time to think of something better.

"Here!" Francis spoke quickly and reached over. "Down these stairs, hurry!"

He pushed the door open, it ground a little on its hinges but opened fast enough for Heather to duck in. Francis followed before slamming it behind him and feeling for the lock on the inside, a simple turn key. Behind him were the stairs and down there was the heating and emergency power systems for the building, along with a few shelves for gardening and horticultural tools for the lawns and plants surrounding the area. It was lit with a dull red light, enough for them to see by but hopefully not bright enough to highlight them for assassin to see.

"We're going down here?" Heather gasped. "Is there a way out?"

"I dunno, but all we have to do is not get found for a few minutes." Francis was gasping, exhausted after running so far. "We're in the middle of Earth dome, we'll leave that guy to the Marines. Lets go find somewhere to hide."

Heather looked down the rough concrete steps hesitantly, she wasn't entirely sure this was what she wanted to do. A sudden jolt on the door behind served to convince her otherwise.

"And let's make it quick!" Francis followed her. "I just hope somebody knows what is happening."

The lull in the weather had been short and a few splatters of cold rain greeted Jenny as she left EIA headquarters, the sky as dismal and ominous as her mood. The meeting with Director Durban had been a difficult one, their failure to get information from the Spectre had forced him to open up new lines of enquiry, ones that were going to require Jenny and Agent Chapel to get their hands very dirty trying to crack the spy ring which seemed to have sprung up to support the Dilgar operations on Earth.

She slumped against the wall with a sigh and looked up into the leaden sky, savouring the few droplets that heralded the downpour to come. She knew this job wasn't going to be an easy one and that sooner or later she was going to have to do things that were going to be hard to justify to herself. She needed to take heart that her actions were for the safety of Earth and the security of its people, but it didn't change the fact that she had been asked by the Director of the EIA to push, pressure, extort and even kill or torture Earth Alliance citizens in order to do her job. And that was not something that sat well with her conscience.

"Are you okay?"

Jenny turned her gaze to see Agent Leung exiting the same building, he was regarding her with genuine concern. "You look like your puppy just got run over."

"I'll be fine." She hoped. "Just a little tired, been a long week."

Leung nodded. "Yeah, I heard about that." he nodded quietly. "But at least the guy was killed right?"

"We never found a body. I won't be happy until I can look into his cold lifeless eyes and know for sure that he is dead." Jenny said harshly. "That Spectre just… I dunno, he just worried me."

"Worried? You?" Leung raised an eyebrow. "Now I don't buy that, nothing worries you."

"This guy does." Jenny did not use the past tense. "I don't think he's dead, I think he had an escape plan. I saw it in his eyes up on the tower, he didn't think he'd lost."

"Come on, he's just one guy. Didn't you take out a handful just like him on Tirrith?"

"I killed some Spectres, but they were not like this guy. He's something special, There is something not right about him that makes him a lot more dangerous than a normal agent. Makes him hard to predict, hard to track, hard to stop."

"But we don't really know why he is here?" Leg commented. "Do you think the Psi Corps woman was his main target?"

"He didn't come all this way to throw a teep out of a window." Jenny shook her head. "He hasn't finished."

"If he survived." Leung pointed out. "Maybe we'll never know."

The female agent stood up from the wall and shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he is dead but I'm not going to make that assumption. The Director still considers the case open so I guess it means we keep looking."

"Well I suggest we look indoors, it's going to start pelting down in a couple of minutes."

Jenny agreed, and they both set off walking towards the apartment building.

They had made it just over half way when Jenny spotted the prone figure lying flat out on the grass beside the path. Her instincts went straight to red alert.

"Is that Terry?" Leung recognized the man. "What does he think he's doing? Its going to start raining any moment."

Jenny had already broken into a run leaving the confused Agent Leung to follow her and try to catch up. She slid down to the grass beside him and checked for a pulse.

"He's alive, but somebody gave him a beating." She reviewed the situation quickly. She found only two impact points that were going to become nasty bruises, whoever did this knew their stuff. "Short and sharp, this wasn't a personal attack it was professional."

"We live in a town of highly trained martial artists, doesn't narrow it down." Leung looked around, seeing no sign of anybody else out here. He frowned as he noticed another shape on the grass. "Is that the dog?"

Jenny snapped her head around and saw the same thing. "Ah hell."

She darted to the animal and crouched beside the Alsation, her breathing was shallow but she still raised her head in recognition of Jenny.

"Stay still girl." Jenny shushed the animal and laid her hand on it's side, noting two knife wounds.

"Who would do that to a dog?" Leung asked in disgust. "Poor Gretal."

Jenny stood quickly, her eyes turning to the apartment building. "I want you to raise the alarm, code two."

"Code two?" Leung asked. A code two was the second most serious state of alert in EarthGov, it meant a hostile individual or group had infiltrated the compound with the intention of doing harm. The only thing worse was a Code One which related to all out attack by a military power. "You sure?"

"Its him." She said coldly. "The Spectre, don't say I am obsessed or stupid, I know it's him. Get on the link, get security out here right the heel now! He can't have gone far, and get some medics ut here while you can."

Then what?"

"Wait here, no disrespect but you aren't a field agent and this guy will snap your neck in three seconds if he had the chance. Just get the guard called out and if you see trouble, run."

With that she jumped to her feet and ran for the apartment building. The Spectre could be anywhere but she had a hunch, a gut instinct that she would find him in there. The nerve and skill of the Dilgar agent was unbelievable, but unlike New York there was no quick way out of here. This time he wasn't going to leave.

Very, very slowly Francis looked around the stack of shelves he and Heather had taken cover behind. He checked left and right in the dim light and searched for any trace of their hunter. Heather was keeping tight hold of his shirt ready to pull him back if she heard something, but so far everything was deathly quiet.

Francis came back into cover and put his finger to his lips letting Heather know that they had to stay quiet. She didn't need to be told that by him, but she could wait until they got out of here alive before giving him a thorough lecture on how not to treat her like an inadequately trained monkey. This is not how she had planned her afternoon, but truthfully she was extremely glad she wasn't down here alone.

He waved to the other end of the shelves and Heather moved softly in that direction, her ears straining for any sound from herself of worse from the Dilgar. She had never seen one in person until today, and it had absolutely terrified her. She had heard they were of feline descent and as a cat lover Heather was expecting the Dilgar to be rather smug or aloof in their attitude. It was common sense that these aliens were going to be very different from Earth evolved cats, but it was a thought she had accepted as fact. The vicious and contorted face that had met her upstairs had shaken her badly. She had to wonder how many living creatures had seen a face like that before being killed.

They reached the far edge of the shelves and once again Francis peered out, scanning the room and finding nothing. The stairway was quite close by and the yellow light emerging hazily from the open door at the top was invitingly close. It would only take a quick dash for them to escape. The problem of course was the Spectre. As far as both the humans could see that was the only way out and it was a sure bet the Dilgar agent was watching and waiting for them to be foolish enough to just brazenly walk up the stairs. Stealth suit or not the Spectre was still clearly very good at what he did, and he had disappeared into the murk.

Heather was about to move anyway when Francis grabbed her arm. From the shelf they were near he took a container, then poised himself to run. Heather followed suit. It seemed like an obvious trap, but they had no other option, they didn't even know if the alarm had been raised and whether or not they were considered missing. They had to escape, and they had to hope they could get past the Spectre before he reacted.

Framcis raised his hand and held up three digits, then began dropping them in a brief count down. Heather took one long breath as the last finger clenched into a fist, and then she ran for her life. Francis was right beside her keeping pace, or at least trying to. Heather could really move when she felt the need to, and at this moment that need had never been greater. They had made it half way to the stairs before they saw the movement coming from the opposite direction.

It was the Spectre, he wasn't invisible but with his dark clothing he had blended into the shadows in the basement. He moved fast and with purpose, racing from the dark in total silence toward the two operatives, Heather didn't recognize it was actually happening for a few moments, the fear greatly slowing her reactions. Francis however stayed in control, he lifted the container he had picked up and tossed its contents into the face of the Spectre, a choking white cloud which enveloped him and made him miss his targets. He staggered to a halt and started coughing violently.

"Keep going!" Francis stopped, Heather noticed the container had contained a chemical fertiliser for the grass outside the apartments. "Get out and get help!"

He swung the metal can down hard on the dazed Spectres head, making him stagger a little.

"I said go!"

Heather hesitated a second longer, and then charged headlong up the stairs and into the light.

With Heather running for safety Francis could put her out of his mind and focus on the task at hand. The cloud of white powder was gone but enough of it had gotten into his lungs to cause him pain and shortness of breath. Luckily for him the Spectre was in a much worse shape and was doubled over coughing. The Dilgar agent was helpless, momentarily incapacitated. This was his chance to run and yet somehow he could not, his legs did not respond to the order to move, the only part of him that took action was the arm holding the metal container. He raised it high and smashed it down on the Spectres head.

His opponent swayed a little, but otherwise showed no sign of even noticing the attack. Francis hit him again, and again, each attack driven home with greater anger and rage. He hit the Dilgar a fourth time and still he steadfastly refused to fall over. He threw aside the can in disgust and looked for something bigger. The basement was full of gardening tools, and his eyes lit up as he spotted a wide bladed shovel, a dirty and thoroughly mean looking tool which should allow even somebody as unskilled as Francis to put the Dilgar on the ground.

He grabbed the shovel and with a yell swung it over head and down in a fast powerful arc, one that stopped in mid air. The Spectre wasn't coughing anymore, he had reached up and grabbed the shovel as it swung down, catching it and holding it against Francis efforts to bring it down. The young man strained against the obstacle, putting all his weight behind the shovel and trying to force it down the last part of its arc into the Dilgar agent's head, but the Spectre wasn't going to allow that. Even injured he had more raw strength and power than Francis, and with a grunt snatched the shovel away and tossed it to the floor, unbalancing Francis and forcing him to stagger backwards

The Dilgar agent watched him with a thin smile, he was more than a match for young Francis, a man who hadn't been in a fight since infant school. He kept his distance, feeling for another weapon while the Dilgar stalked him, taking his time and making no sudden moves. The Spectre was between Francis and the stairway out, something both of them had to know. Francis was trapped, and it was with a relish that the Spectre moved forward to deal with the distraction.

The young code breaker backed away, his breathing shallow and ragged as the grim face advanced, enjoying his terror. That alone made Francis incredibly angry, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. The Spectre drew a knife with its uninjured hand, a long sickle of a blade with a distinctive engraved hilt and blade, it looked decades or even centuries old and must have been considered something special back on Omelos. Here it was just an unpleasant way to die. He never took his eyes off the Spectre, glancing from the blade to the face of his hunter and back again looking for a tell tale sign of the attack, something he could anticipate and dodge.

He stepped backwards into the shelf, he'd forgotten about it and he came to a stop, his line of retreat cut off. Francis heart seemed to stop for a second as the items on the shelf rattled with the gentle impact, some dust and flakes of rust fell down about his head as the Spectre drew ever closer, taking his time. He could no longer swallow, his throat was completely dry with nothing but a bitter sick taste in his mouth, he held his mouth open so his quivering jaw would not cause his teeth to rattle and give the Spectre the satisfaction of seeing how out of control the young man was. His hands reached behind him running across the dirty shelves grasping and searching for anything, absolutely anything that would give him a chance.

He sought something sharp or heavy but he wasn't having any luck, he came across nails, small pieces of wood, seed bags, none of it was usable as an effective weapon. He was desperate for a miracle, anything to stop the advancing Dilgar agent. With a look of pure enjoyment the Spectre drew back his right hand and the blade, looking Francis directly in the eye to savour his moment of victory, to bask in his superiority. Francis suddenly felt something else newer than fear, he felt anger.

Francis was angry that this Assassin was going to actually enjoy killing him, in fact this was more than anger it was stone cold fury. It was more than a case of self preservation now, it was even more than his need to keep Heather safe and buy her time to run, this was about making sure that this alien killer did not experience any joy at his expense. This wasn't about protecting things, but about destroying them and even if he lasted all of three seconds against this Dilgar it would be three seconds in which he did not give up and he did not simply allow his death to come to up, but force it to take him against his will. He met the cold almond eyes without flinching, staring straight into the two black gashes that opened onto the Spectre's single minded soul. His fear was vanishing, overpowered by the realisation that he still had some control and some choice to make, and while the inevitable would still happen it would not be on the Dilgar terms.

Dar'ro lunged forward, stabbing with the blade rather than slashing as he guessed his opponent would expect from a curved weapon. He was moving a little slower than usual due to the pain in his arm, it was clouding his senses a little and making him feel unsteady as he fought to suppress and ignore the pain. He absently wondered if something in the animals saliva was reacting with his blood as a kind of natural poison, but whatever was causing his problems he wasn't about to let them get in his way. The damage Gretal the Alsation had done saved Francis' life.

In the moment Dar'ro made his move Francis grabbed something solid from the shelf behind him. He didn't stop to analyse it he just swung it off the shelf and slammed it into the incoming arm forcing the Spectre's lunge wide and missing him. Francis side stepped, noticing that his new object was an old metal plate pitted with rust. It wasn't very heavy but it was better than fighting bare handed. Dar'ro's next move almost finished Francis, he reversed the knife and jabbed it backwards as the young agent was sidestepping aiming straight for his stomach. It was more reflex then thought out action which made him grab the plate in both hands and use it as a shield, dropping it to knife height and bracing with all his strength.

The knife struck the plate square on and pierced it, the razor sharp blade passing through and wedging only when it passed as far as the hilt. Francis held the plate for a split second, he had breathed in as the knife hit and now with his chest pulled in as far as he could manage he could still feel the very tip of the knife against is body actually piercing his outer clothing. If he had exhaled or moved by even half an inch it would have gone through him.

He yanked the plate to the right, the knife was wedged in and it went too disarming both Dar'ro and Francis. The man knew he had to find a weapon to win, he needed an advantage but none was visible and if he hesitated and let the Spectre attack the this would all be over. Once again he sensed his own anger, it demanded that he make this Dilgar pay for all he had done, that right now he did have the ability to stop this alien before it did anymore damage. He could do this, and he had an opportunity.

The Dilgar had a weak spot courtesy of Terry's dog, a torn and wounded arm that was still bleeding. A gentleman fighter would have stepped away and let the Dilgar recover from his wound before fighting, but Francis was neither of those things and in a fight for survival against a better opponent he was going to do whatever was necessary. He grabbed the Spectres wounded arm and twisted with all his might, grinding flesh on bone and intending nothing more than to cause as much pain as he physically could. Dar'ro roared out in sudden pain and hate, grabbing for his enflamed arm and losing his balance as he tried to force Francis away. As he writhed Francis swung out his right leg and delivered a kick to the Spectres chest with as much force as he could. It felt like kicking a tree trunk but just so long as it hurt his enemy as much as it was hurting him the Irishman did not care.

Dar'ro was caught be surprise by the fierce attack from someone he had discounted as little more than practice, even now the human's attacks were poorly planned and amateur but they still managed to damn well hurt. Dar'ro went onto the offensive, temporarily ignoring the tremendous pain in his arm and punching the human in his stomach, the force of the impact winding the man and instantly forcing him to stagger back and let go of the Dilgar's arm. With a smile Dar'ro reasserted control of the situation, fending off a weak flurry of punches with his good arm and pushing the man back deeper into the basement. With a powerful kick he hurled Francis off his feet and dropped him to floor hard next to the shelves he had started from.

Training told Dar'ro to finish the job quickly, to retrieve his knife and slit the human's throat before continuing with his task. But there was a passion in this fight now, an enjoyment and a need to extract every ounce of pleasure this persons death would give him. He didn't need a knife, he would use his bare hands and inch by inch he was going to crush the life out of this person and watch as he died, the human had caused him a lot of pain and this would be his vengeance.

He dropped to one knee and grabbed the stunned EIA agent by the neck and began to squeeze, leaning in close to see the panic and helplessness in his victim's eyes. In an ideal world the human would suffer for days, if he had even a fraction of Jha'dur's talent he could create a living nightmare for this foolish person, he might even consider turning him over to the Warmaster when he was done to further prolong the agony. Sadly he would have to settle for this, but at least he would be the visceral instrument of death. He applied greater pressure, and while the man again dug his fingers into the torn flesh of his arm Dar'ro remained unmoved, absorbing the pain as the price for this victory. Already the young man was weakening, his efforts becoming more feeble as his strength began to disappear. It was these few moments, the last gasps of life that Dar'ro enjoyed so much, there was just something epic about them, something rare and unique that he knew could never be reproduced by any other effort. Jha'dur had known this, she must have to trust Dar'ro with such a mission. They had shared a passion for bringing death to those who opposed the future of the Dilgar, what they did was not just a job or an expedient like the rest of the military, for them it was a calling and a destiny.

The Spectres arm suddenly burst with a huge amount of pain as something hard struck it from the side, he was taken completely by surprise and reflex made him lose his grip on Francis' throat. A second forceful impact crashed into his shoulder spinning him away from the agent and forced him to roll further into the shadows and clamber to his feet. He regaied his balance, looked for the source of the attack and was then filled with excitement and anticipation. He recognized the attacker, the same female who had tried to stop him twice before and was now facing him again. Fate had given him the opportunity to correct an oversight and put an end to this meddlesome human once and for all. With glee he nodded and accepted this challenge, then began circling forward.

The human female kept close to the other man who groaned and coughed as he forced air through his damaged windpipe into his lungs. He would live in his current condition, but Dar'ro was hoping that in a few minutes he could finish the job, right after excising this thorn in his side.

From experience he knew this female was in the business, she was already set up in a fluid defensive posture and despite her willowy look could pack a nasty punch, more so than the man at her feet. She kept a watch on the Spectre but he saw her eyes dart around to take in the room in exactly the same way he had when he first entered, looking for escape routes, blind areas and probably weapons. Dar'ro had already located his knife and was ready to make a move for it the instant he had an opportunity. With a slight chuckle he tensed his muscles and prepared.

"Francis." Jenny spoke fast. "Francis, get up."

"Where is he?" Francis coughed and rolled over. "That bastard, I'll take his head off!"

"Francis, get up, get out of here, and make sure security knows we are down here." She kept her voice flat and calm. "Do it now."

He stumbled to his feet, his face was still bright red from the blood flow and a blood vessel in his eye had broken open making it look bloodshot and pained. His stomach still refused to straighten out after just one punch from the Dilgar agent and he was dizzy and having a hard time standing straight. "I can help you."

"Yes, by getting security." Jenny kept her gaze on the Spectre who seemed content to wait. "You can't fight this guy and I can't protect you. I know what I'm doing now get out of here and get some help right now."

Francis shot a hateful glance at the Dilgar, but guessed that Jenny was right and that this was a bad idea. He stumbled forward and clambered up the stairs without another word, scrambling out the door and into the gloomy daylight.

Jenny took a few glances left and right looking for a weapon or heavy object. "Where's a good crowbar when you need one?" she muttered before her eyes settled on a length of chain hanging from a wall mounted hook, it seemed about three feet long with a thick pad lock at one end. It was going to have to do.

She snapped her hand out and grabbed the chain, lifting it off the hook and swiping it over her head in one motion aimed at the Spectre. Dar'ro also moved, rolling down under the arc of the chain and grabbing his knife from the floor, rising up armed and ready. Jenny took in the room one more time, lazily swinging the chain in a slow spin to keep some momentum going, then picked a moment and attacked.

Jenny dashed forward on the down swing of the chain, cutting it diagonally down aimed at the Spectre's head. He ducked and she missed exactly as expected, letting her quickly change position and loop the chain around so it rapidly changed direction and whistled in from the other side before Dar'ro fully recovered. The impact caught him at the top of his left arm with a thud, not hard enough to break bone put enough to hurt and to unbalance him.

The chain was a fast weapon and Jenny was trying to use that as her only advantage to keep the Spectre at a distance. Even with an injured arm he was strong enough to over power her and with the knife he would favour a close fight, she had to prevent that from happening. Carefully she edged back and kept the chain swinging in front of her in a tight figure eight pattern, she made sure to stay between the Spectre and the way out . Her aim wasn't to actually defeat the Dilgar but to keep him contained until the security services arrived, there was a team near teep town that could be here in ten minutes and with luck Leung had already raised the alarm.

Dar'ro lunged forward with the knife, aiming for Jenny's chest. She backstepped and let the swirling chaing connect, knocking the blade sideways. She followed with a pushing kick that missed and quickly recovered, resuming her defensive stance and keeping the chain moving. The Spectre was testing her, seeing how she reacted and had by now guessed that she was playing for time and trying to keep him trapped down here. He edged sideways and looked for a gap.

The style of attack took Jenny by surprise, instead of rushing forward the Dilgar threw his arm forward and launched the knife at her. It took all her speed to twist her head sideways and back so the knife missed, flashing past inched in front of her eyes and wedging in a wooden support beam by the wall behind her with a thud and a twang. Before she could recover the Spectre was attacking, falling back on his fists to try and break her. She was off balance and could only lash the chain out in a short arc aimed at his healthy arm, causing enough of an impact to make him miss. She twisted away and tried to get some distance kicking out to buy her some time and connecting with the Spectres chest. It barely slowed him and she had to block his next swing with both her arms, losing the momentum she'd been trying to keep in the motion of the chain.

Jenny bent her legs and dropped below the Spectres next swing, letting the fist pass over her head before she snapped the chain out into the Dilgar's knee then kicked one of his legs out from under him. Dar'ro didn't fight for balance but went with gravity, landing carefully and rolling away and up to his feet in one move. Jenny followed with a kick but the Spectre blocked it with his forearm and then jumped back as the chain sang through the air again, chipping stone from the wall as it grazed past.

She took a moment, drew breath, then attacked again not wanting to give the Dilgar time to recover and formulate a plan. She had to keep him busy until help showed up and while she wanted to go all out and put this man down her self she doubted she had the ability. For all her skill this Spectre was easily the toughest creature she had ever met, strong, smart and usually one step ahead of the security forces. With this in mind she attacked again.

Dar'ro timed the swing, he wouldn't be able to deal with the chain once it was in motion but he could guess when and where the strike would come from if he watched Jenny's stance in the instants before she struck. The agent had done a good job of masking her intentions, keeping the chain swinging until the very last moment but when she shifted her weight between feet that was enough for Dar'ro to act on. He stepped back as she attacked, the rusted links clinking an inch from his face, and then reached up and snatched the chain as it passed. He tightened his fingers around it and pulled, yanking Jenny of balance and sending her stumbling. He gave the chain one more tug to keep her moving, then let go and ran.

Jenny fought for balance and skidded down to a halt, ending up in a crouched position with her free hand resting on the floor like a sprinter on the starting blocks. She was tensed for a follow up attack from the Spectre but it never came, instead he had bolted for the steps and the way out, even now he was at their foot and bounding up and out of the basement, pausing only to retrieve his knife.

She swore angrily and leapt up after him, jumping up the steps four at a time and careening around the corner into the apartment buildings ground floor corridor. Dar'ro was already just darting out the door and she gave chase, swinging on the lintel and propelling herself into the heavy air outside.

It was raining heavily now, the sky unloading its tears down onto the scene making the path slippery and stinging Jenny's eyes. The Spectre had run from the path and was circling the building, stomping over the grass and heading towards Lake Geneva several hundred yards away. She guessed that was how he had planned to escape, probably with a boat or scuba gear and once again she had to marvel at how incredibly well prepared and supplied the man was. The Dilgar agent was strong, but Jenny was fast and she was catching up, with only a few feet between them now she lashed out again with the length of chain.

The rusty links wrapped themselves around Dar'ro's neck as he ran and Jenny pulled it taught, putting all her weight behind it and yanking backwards, physically leaping into the air with a yell and twisting to force as much strength into the chain as possible. Optimistically she had hoped to break his neck, but Dar'ro responded by going limp and falling with the direction of the pull, dropping backwards into the muddy grass behind the apartment. He kept rolling, bringing his legs up ant planting them on Jenny's torso pushing her back and bring her to a stop, then he grabbed the chain and pulled her forward, throwing her over him and down onto the grass with a wet thud.

Both of them scrambled to their feet, Jenny gathering up the chain that had unwound when Dar'ro got up. They faced each other, rain slicking their hair and weighing down their clothes, it was going to slow them down by a fraction and both were planning on using that as an advantage. Dar'ro turned his knife over in his right hand, keeping his wounded left arm away from his opponent. That was going to make his attacks predictable and Jenny aimed to exploit that injury.

The Spectre swung the knife in a low arc, stepping forward with a small shower of water from the grass at his feet. His face was snarling and more animalistic than ever as he rushed for Jenny and tried to force his way to safety. She had the chain held at both ends and whipped it around to catch the Dilgar's wrist, swiftly looping the chain around it and pulling it tight, trapping the Spectre's hand. Dar'ro kicked out catching Jenny's thigh with the force of an iron bar. She gasped but kept her footing and spun around, using the Spectre's arm as a lever to pull the big alien around and roll him over her shoulder. In a text book move she threw him over and dropped him hard to the floor, than in a heartbeat lined up her boot to stamp hard on his throat.

Dar'ro twisted his head and Jenny missed, then used the chain still aroud his wrist to pull Jenny off balance as she tried to kick him. This time the EIA agent let go of the chain and while she didn't fall on the knife she was now unarmed. The Spectre jumped up and with a sneer hurled the chain away towards the lake, he didn't need it himself and no it was beyond Jenny's reach too. She backed carefully away and started circling, watching the grinning Dilgar for signs of the imminent attack. He kept her guessing, toying with her for a few moments before finally committing.

He whipped the knife forward at head height, Jenny had to lean backwards sharply to avoid the strike, then twist as he altered the course of the blade and brought it slashing down vertically. Jenny quickly sidestepped away from the attack, blocking a backhanded swipe with both her arms and using the force of the attack to push her away and out of range.

Dar'ro did not give her time to recover, pressing forward with a snarl and lunging with the blade. Jenny redirected the strike, pushing the arm a few degrees to one side and snapping a high kick at the Spectres torn left arm. It hit home with a lot of force and sent the Dilgar staggering to one side in a gasp of surprised pain, momentarily breaking his concentration. Now it was her turn to go on the offensive, with a yell she unleashed a flurry of kicks and punches, some Dar'ro stopped and others he didn't. She was tired by now, her muscles fatigued but it did not slow her down, she just did not allow it to. Every strike was as strong as the last, every round kick and jab as quick as the first. Jenny was tapping into her last reserves of strength and willpower to force this attack and make the Spectre give ground.

He steadied himself long enough to lash out with the knife but Jenny blocked and hit back hard with a double punch to his solar plexus. She was pounding on the Spectre like he was a punch bag hung in the gym, not a second went by without something crashing into Dar'ro's body. He was completely off balance, his feet slipping on the wet grass and rain stinging his eyes. Jenny's punches were sending a tiny shower of water up from his sodden clothes with every hit, her knuckles were bruised and red, her leg muscles strained and sprained, her lungs burning with raw breath from the cold air.

She drove Dar'ro against the wall of the apartment block, he hit it hard and bounced forward straight into a right hook. His head snapped back into the wall and struck hard, his vision starting to blur. He spat out blood in a dribble and barely had time to look up before the next hit struck, and the next, and the next. Jenny had him pinned now and was concentrating on his injured arm and his head while keeping his knife arm sandwiched between his own body and the wall.

"Come on!" she yelled as she punched him. "That all you got? To hell with you!"

Dar'ro's knees began to waver, he understood some of what she had said but not enough. He tried to hit her with his damaged arm but it was easily and forcefully blocked. His arm was in such total agony he barely noticed the impact now, he cursed that damn animal that attacked him, if it wasn't for that creature this girl would have died a minute after she challenged him.

"Who sent you?" Jenny demanded as she hit him again. "Who is your contact on Earth?"

Dar'ro just smiled through bloody teeth and chuckled, and that just made Jenny hit harder.

"Who is your contact!"

The Spectre just shook his head.

"Think this is funny?" she struck him again. "Fine, you can tell it to the interrogator. He'll have a field day with you!"

She hit again, but this time she lost her balance, slipping slightly in the wet mud generated by the rain. It was a tiny opening left there for only a second, but for someone of Dar'ro's training it was more than enough. Forgetting his pain, forgetting his weariness, forgetting everything except that small window of opportunity he moved, jabbing out with the knife faster than Jenny could react. He buried the razor sharp blade through her right thigh, stabbing effortlessly through her clothing and flesh. She yelled more in surprise than pain and reacted with another hammer blow to the side of the Dilgar's head. But this time it didn't stop him, Dar'ro had been given a burst of energy by his success and was already moving. He withdrew the knife and stood full up, swinging it in a backhand arc at Jenny's neck. She blocked with both fore arms but the strength of the swing combined with the injury to her leg meant she couldn't brace against it and she fell back against the wall, Dar'ro moving to capitalise.

He pushed her hard against the wall and slashed the knife down with a shout of triumph and battle lust. Jenny had to use both hands and caught the arm as it came down, barely stopping it and holding it six inches from her neck. Dar'ro brought his left hand to the hilt and put more and more of his weight behind it, his wound was burning in protest but he did not care, victory was just inches from his grasp. Jenny put all her strength, every ounce of energy and will she could summon up into holding back the knife, but the Spectre was just too strong.

She kicked out as hard as she could with her injured leg, crying out in pain but accepting it. The Spectre shuddered with the hit but did not lose any of the force behind the blade that was creeping closer and closer. She was in an unwinnable position and that realisation was creeping across her mind, she desperately searched for something, anything that might give her a chance. She was faster than the Dilgar, if she had even a small gap she could slip away and run. By now she must have delayed him enough do the military and security forces could track him, especially now his stealth suit seemed damaged. Her concern was now purely about saving herself, but unfortunately that was looking impossible.

No matter how fast she moved as soon as she took pressure from her defence the knife would plunge through her throat, but if she did nothing in a few moments she would be overcome by the Spectre's strength and likewise, she would be dead. It was impossible, if she did nothing she died, if she did something she still died. Faced with such a choice she only had one realistic decision to make, she wasn't about to give up and accept this, fighting the inevitable was not a waste of time, it was the human thing to do.

She looked straight into the Dilgar eyes, those cold pale holes looking onto a cold soul. The cat like apertures burned with a furious delight, he was revelling in this moment of control, almost tasting her blood and looking for signs of fear and panic in her eyes thanks to the knowledge she had only seconds left, that all her future, everything she could ever become or cherish was balanced on a steel blade inches from her throat. Dar'ro took more pleasure in the close kill, he wanted to see his victims last expression, whether it was fear or denial or quiet acceptance. He lived for it.

But with Jenny he did not get that satisfaction, all he saw in her was defiance even now at the last. He could physically beat her but he would never break her inside, and has her soul departed her body it would still be defiant and unbroken. She would not be intimidated by him, nor be scared of the death he brought, and she would never acknowledge him as a superior person simply because he had more strength in his arm. Jenny was his most skilled and worthy opponent in his life to date, her demise at his hand should have been a crowning achievement, but because he could not break her even in death it was going to be a hollow victory, a defeat of body but not mind. If this was how all humanity faced death, if this defiance even seconds from the inevitable was common across the species, then may the gods help the Dilgar Imperium if it ever drew them into war.

It was then, with the knife nearly at her skin, that Jenny heard the click.

Francis had disobeyed her instructions. He had not run out the front door to find help, he couldn't explain but something inside had firmly demanded that he did not try and escape but instead try and do something to help Jenny. He would not let her face that killing machine alone, whatever happened he had to do something and would not abandon her.

He had run up the stairs, burst into his apartment and emptied his clothes drawers until he found it, a plain 9mm semi automatic hand gun. He had bought it not long before and thanks to his job at Earth Alliance Intelligence had been allowed to just take the weapon home with as much ammunition as he could carry. Francis had never held a gun before, much less fired one and had spent a little time checking the mechanisms and seeing how it worked. So far he hadn't even fired it or booked time on the range. He didn't really understand why he had even bothered buying it, he was working in the most secure place on Earth but somehow it had seemed necessary. Now obviously his caution was paying dividends.

He had loaded the weapon clumsily and nearly fallen down the stairs in his haste to get down, fumbling with the corner at the bottom of the stair well and running down into the basement with his gun in hand only to find it empty. He stood frozen for a few moments, not knowing what to do next and letting his mind cycle through possibilities, in the end he decided they must still be nearby, there was no body so there was still a chance to help. He left the basement, charged through the front door without pause into the rain and flew around the edge of the building, stopping in his tracks as he saw the two agents locked in a life or deathe grapple up against the apartment building wall.

Now he stood, gun stretched out in both hands stiff and rigid pointing at the Spectre's back.

Jenny glanced at him but did not say anything, her every effort was being expended to hold back the Dilgar agent, all she could do was blink and then look pointedly at the Spectre. Francis knew what he had to do, he knew that a few minutes ago he had every intention of shooting the Dilgar, he knew he the the tools and the reason. He knew that if anyone on the whole planet deserved a bullet it was the alien before him. He knew that if he hesitated Jenny would be dead, and there was a good chance he would follow. The path was clear, it was yelling in his face, but somehow his finger steadfastly refused to move and squeeze the trigger.

It wasn't a hard thing to do, just move one part of his body one inch in one direction, as simple an effort as any he cound think off, he just couldn't, his hand may as well have been made of stone. The Dilgar was totally focused on Jenny, if he even knew Francis was there he didn't show it, his whole will was bent on that knife and those last few inches of air. She wasn't going to last much longer, and if Francis didn't act he would have a front row seat to the death of his friend.

But this was no movie, and he was no hero charging into action all guns blazing. He was just an eighteen year old who up until a couple of months ago had never even been abroad. Now he was working for the EIA as a spy tracker dealing every day with matters that affected the whole planet, billions of fates in the balance. He was already in a life or death situation but it had all happened somewhere else far, far away. He could be detached, he could send people to a city or a building knowing that by his actions it was likely someone would die, but now he faced that decision for real. If he acted, someone really was going to die and the only question was who.

He was pointing a gun at a living, thinking being and it horrified him, the intention alone and made him far colder than the rain. It was pouring down, thick droplets cascading from the heavens dripping from the gun barrel and running down his face. He was shivering and not with the cold or wet, his hands tightened on the weapon, squeezing the grip until his fingers turned white yet still he could not take that final tiny action. Jenny was on the brink of losing her fight for life, and if she died everything Francis had tried to achieve not just her ebut in his life would be pointless. For so long he had done nothing, Jenny had given him some purpose, a reason to excel and a goal to aim for. This was more than a job for him now, it was his life and that assassins blade wasn't just in danger of ending his friends life, in the same stroke it would destroy his.

The argument still raged in his head between his resolute conscience and his heart, but while that was happening on a higher part of his brain the more instinctual part took action. Slowly his finger applied more and more pressure on the trigger, he wasn't even thinking about, just calmly registering somewhere that his finger was moving and he had better prepare for the bang and recoil. There was no discussion of morality or idea of will, just a set of things which were about to happen, he had never believed this to be a part of him, it was the way deep cover agents were trained to think from day one but never ingrained in Francis. It just happened, and the loud retort of the gun took him by surprise just as much as the Spectre.

The bullet impacted Dar'ro's back low close to the liver, not that Francis had been doing much in the way of aiming. It spun through the clothes and his body before lodging on his left side pelvic bone, he didn't feel the pain immediately but the shock and force of the impact was enough to send him staggering to the side and release his grip on Jenny.

Jenny seized the moment. She still had hold of his knife hand and as soon as the bullet hit and the pressure went away she grabbed the wrist and gave it a sharp twist with both her hands. By reflex his hand opened before the Dilgar could stop it and he let go of the knife, his surprised eyes only just registering that it was all going terribly wrong. The knife fell less than five inches before Jenny grabbed it out of the air with her right hand and in one swift fluid motion reversed the blade and speared it up into the Spectre's ribs before he had even stopped moving from the bullet impact.

For an eternity they stood frozen, eye to eye just looking straight at each other and not blinking or breathing. There was something there that made them the same, before they had been opposites, enemies and killers intent on nothing more than each others death. But now that moment was past, it was lost in time and with that gone they were just professionals doing the same job for the same reasons. They each loved their world and loved their people, so much so they would go across the galaxy to kill strangers who they had no quarrel with, they were so different and yet completely alike. For want of an accident of birth their roles could just as easily be reversed. It was a realisation that Jenny had never felt before, she had killed men, killed even Spectres, but not like this man. This Dilgar had a determination and dedication she had rarely seen in anyone even here on Earth, he was a shining example of what an Agent should be and she respected him as much as any of her friends. Now she had killed him, and in a way she felt sorry.

Slowly the Dilgar fell backwards and came to a halt by the wall, still looking surprised and confused. He slid slowly down the wall, his boot heels gouging up mud in the process as Jenny backed slowly away, her mouth open in a wordless emotion that continued to engulf her for a few more moments before her training pushed such emotions out of her mind.

She grimaced as her leg wound stabbed with pain and turned to Francis, he too was in a state of shock with the hand gun still stretched out. Jenny took hold of it and eased it downwards so it pointed at the ground.

"Francis." She said quietly, her throat aching when she spoke. "Give me the gun. Just let go." She spoke softly. "Just let go."

He did as he was told, his eyes still fixed on the form lying slumped against the wall with the knife still protruding from his chest and blood gathering. She took the weapon and immediately raised it and took aim the Spectres head, all emotions aside she had a job to complete and that meant making sure this person was no longer a threat. She need not have bothered, Dar'ro wasn't going to threaten anyone again. She held the gun out towards his head, but the Dilgar's eyes had widened into an unseeing stare, it was over.

The curved blade had pierced Dar'ro's heart, even if Jha'dur and the entire college of surgeons had been on hand there was no medical expert in the galaxy that could have done anything to help. His limbs had suddenly grown leaden and heavy while his sense of balance vanished, he had pitched backwards and absently noticed he was now down on the ground in the mud. He could no longer feel and sensation in his legs, and the warm numbness was washing up through his body as he lost control. Really it wasn't such an unpleasant sensation, the chemicals in his brain were throwing up so many endorphins he didn't notice the pain, just a warm feeling and a tiredness.

He was angry, but just didn't have the energy to use that anger and fight back, he knew that he was dying, he knew these moments were his last and there was no time for bitterness and regret. He had failed in the task Warmaster Jha'dur had set him, on the brink of warning her about the true nature of humans he had been stopped by a prime example of everything the Dilgar had to fear from this race. He did not feel so much regret though, he didn't expect to see old age on Omelos, and at least his death had been in service of a greater cause and his killer was a worthy opponent. He felt no shame, just mild disappointment. He thought finally that the fact he would fail to report in would be enough to let Jha'dur know that these humans were good enough to stop him before he had finished his mission, and that should tell her all she needed to know.

He looked down to the knife in his chest, his own knife, and smiled a little at the irony. Killed by his own weapon, the tool he had sent so many souls rushing out of the universe with was now going to do the same to him. He looked up, staring up into the heavens and accepted his end with no more hesitation. The preachers had said that a warrior who dies in battle would be guaranteed glory in the next life, and while he had never believed it now he considered that if it was true, it would be nice to see. Dar'ro left the world with a lung full of alien air in his lungs, a knife through his heart, and the sky reflected in his eyes.

Jenny lowered the gun when she saw the last whisper of breath escape Dar'ro's lips and his head dropped limply onto his chest. She was breathing hard, even on Tirrith she hadn't been this exhausted and empty feeling. This fight had been as draining emotionally as it had physically, she had put so much effort into this over the weeks, thrown herself entirely into it and crossed death a dozen times. Today she had been helpless, seconds away from her end and it had shaken her. She had never been helpless. Now that is was over, now she had nothing to focus on, she felt lost and hesitant to move on. But she had her job, she had her orders, and she had a responsibility to Earth. She raised her head and turned.

"Francis." She said. "Francis!"

He blinked and slowly turned his head to face Jenny, he looked like she had just woken him up from a dream. He raised an eyebrow absently and shuffled his feet.

"Are you alright?" she continued. "Any injuries?"

He shook his head, still not quite able to speak.

She managed to smile at him. "Thank you. You know if you hadn't shown up I'd be dead and he'd be gone."

Francis returned the smile, but his eyes were still displaying shock and disbelief. "Couldn't leave you."

"Maybe making you an agent here was a good idea after all. You've got what it takes, whatever you're thinking right now, and whatever you feel after just remember you did the right thing." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "You did the right thing."

The clank of equipment heralded the arrival of Agent Leung and two black clad security troops. The swept around the edge of the building leading with their rifles and advancing quickly but cautiously. They were Assault Rangers, half way between the pure small scale Special forces teams and the larger elite divisions like the airborne and atmospheric assault units. They checked the dead Spectre, scanning his body for life signs with their helmet mounted systems before standing down.

"It's alright." Jenny said. "You missed the fun."

"Holy…" Leung gasped at the dead Spectre. "What the hell happened?"

"The situation is dealt with." Jenny stated plainly. "Rangers, Take Agent O'Leary to the medical facility, one of the Doctors will need to take a look at him. Then get forensics out here, I want this place airtight and all this Dilgar equipment logged and stored in the next hour."

"Yes Ma'am." The lead ranger said.

"And toss me your field dressing." She added, catching the package from the soldier who then took Francis by the arm.

"Sir, I'm going to ask you to come with me now."

Francis offered no resistance and was lead away by the Soldier, Jenny gave a final reassuring look and then watched him go. Poor kid was going to go through hell with his conscience, but he'd make it.

"This the same guy we've been chasing all over the planet?" Agent Leung leaned in close to the Dilgar. "You sure he's dead?"

"Really, really sure." She put Francis' gun in her waist band and broke open the field dressing, injecting the mixture of healing solutions into the knife wound on her leg and then wrapping the bandage around. "I don't know how he got here, but I bet that suit helped."

Leung reached out, still wary of the body, and grabbed some of the material. "Damn feels pretty tough. I wonder how he fought in this?"

"Pure will power and belief." Jenny replied sincerely. "Can't beat that."

"And yet he's the one with the knife in his chest."

"Only just." Jenny looked on. "I really need some time off, I think I've got like five years leave built up."

Leung chuckled. "A stealth suit huh? Hell no, a full Chameleon net! Even the Centauri secret service doesn't have anything like this!"

"Earth Force New Technologies Division would kill for this." Jenny observed. "We might be able to bargain some political points from Earth Force for it, The Director has been after a Jump capable ship for our operations in League space, maybe now the Joint Chiefs will listen to him."

Leung stood. "So did you get to ask him some questions before he expired?"

"I asked." Jenny grunted. "He wasn't too forthcoming with answers."

"Hmm." Leung shrugged. "So we still don't know who his contact is?"

"He didn't say."

"Which brings us back to square one." Leung looked down on the Spectre. "This still isn't over, I think we might still have surprises in store."

"Yeah." Jenny nodded. "You could say that."

She took Francis' gun from her waist band and without even changing expression put three bullets into Agent Leung's back.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Geneva

Leung was thrown forward by the impacts, the three bullets tearing through his damp suit and causing him to pitch into the Spectre. It took him a long moment to realise what had happened, and the instant he did the first waves of dull pain ran through his nervous system. He rolled over to lie beside the Dilgar agent and stared aghast at Jenny who still aimed the hand gun at him.

"How stupid did you think we were?" she asked with a fire behind her eyes. "Did you think we wouldn't find out?"

"What?" Leung gasped. "You shot me!"

"Those bullets won't kill you." Jenny scoffed. "You'll just bleed a bit and they'll hurt like hell." She shook her head. "Maybe they'll paralyse you, but right now that isn't your problem. Forget about the bullets in your back and worry about the ones still in the gun."

She edged a little forward. The rain was getting in Leung's eyes forcing him to blink furiously, his breathing was getting shallower as the shock and numbness wore off and the pain began to intensify. "What the hell are you talking about!"

"You've got this one chance, one chance only to admit it and confess." Jenny was speaking with nothing but spite in her voice, her teeth bared as if in a feral snarl. "Come clean and you still have a chance to make it right."

He shook his head. "I don't know what you mean!" he exclaimed. "Have you lost your mind? Security!"

Jenny shook her head. "They won't be back for a while. You're all mine." With a sigh she lowered the gun, Leung was in no position to try and fight her. "We know you're the leak."

He gazed at her wide eyed. "Don't be an idiot! Look, we can still call this a mistake, just get me to a medical centre before…"

"Shut up!" Jenny yelled raising the gun again. "Just shut the hell up! You're nothing but a traitor! You sold us out Leung!"

"No, you're wrong!" he winced, the injuries now really getting painful. "I wouldn't do that, there's no way!"

"Just admit it!" she yelled back. "We've got all the evidence we need, it's over! Admit it!"

"No, I can't admit something I haven't done, you can't have evidence it's impossible!"

"You did a good job of hiding it." Jenny admitted. "But not that good."

She walked awkwardly to one side, the quick pain killer and bandage had done wonders for her leg wound but it was still going to need a doctor to look at it and probably fix her with stitches. In her mind it was a small price to pay for defeating the Spectre. But Dar'ro had only ever been half the mission, he was the weapon but a weapon was useless unless there was someone behind wielding it with a purpose. At the top of that tree were the Dilgar military, but in between was a network of contacts and support agents, possibly a dozen or more individuals. These individuals often had no idea who each other were or how many other support operatives existed at any one time, it helped keep things secure that way. They could be in widely varied jobs from simple labour to the military and even the intelligence services.

But the key was the principle support agent, the one person who formed a direct link to all parts of the chain, a nexus. This one person had to coordinate the efforts of the support group and was in contact with them all, he was the lynchpin of the whole operation, the one person with the names and locations of every single operative and informant in the web. The EIA used a similar system, and in the past Director Durban had been at the centre of one of the biggest spy rings in the galaxy covering the League, Centauri space and especially the Narn Regime. Unfortunately it appeared others had adapted that system to work against Earth, and Leung was the man in the middle.

"You can thank Francis." Jenny said flatly. "He found your little paper trail, and once that happened it all just fell into place."

"What paper trail?"

"Bank accounts, money transfers, that sort of thing." Jenny continued. "The Director had him tracing the Spectres messages remember? He back traced it through the Tachyon relays and came up with a location in Dilgar occupied space. Clever kid even got us an exact sector, based on League reports it was occupied by Warmaster Jha'dur herself. Gotta hand it to you, you think big, go right to the top."

"You don't know what you are talking about!" He gritted his teeth. "You're going to take some kids word for it? You shoot me because of this? How long have we worked together?"

"Don't you dare try and pull that with me!" Jenny snapped. "Don't you play on our friendship, that ended half an hour ago when Durban told me the full story!"

"What full story?"

"After Francis tracked where the Spectre was getting orders from he found something else, another signal from that same location but not directed at the Spectre, it went to a location on the Narn Homeworld, to their capital city. It took a while but he found out it was a money transfer equivalent to ten million Earth Alliance credits." She smiled thinly. "Why would Warmaster Jha'dur send money to Narn, and why would it be in human currency?"

This time Leung did not answer.

"Once he knew what to look for Francis did a search of Narn comms traffic from the same location, he didn't know it at the time but when he gave the location to the Director, Durban recognized exactly where the money had gone, Narn Intelligence Head quarters."

Jenny exhaled and shifted some weight from her injured leg.

"So Durban had Francis check all money transfers from Narn, and what do you know? He found a transfer of that exact amount of money from a front company for Narn intelligence into an un-registered bank account on Beta Durani, only it wasn't entirely un-registered. You're head of computer sciences, you should know every computer leaves a subchannel I.D. Sure you did a great job wiping out almost all the traces, but you missed one I.D code, and that was enough for Francis to identify the exact computer used to set up the account. Yours."

Leung shook his head. "He's wrong, it must be, it's a frame job!"

"He didn't get it wrong." Jenny stated. "We've known there has been a leak for at least three years now selling secrets to the Narn Regime, and we narrowed it down to Computers and Codes, but we never suspected it was the department head."

"It isn't me!"

"Then the Dilgar show up, and then get all friendly with the Narns. We guessed it was only a matter of time before the Narn started sharing intelligence with the Dilgar, and that meant the Dilgar would have access to the Narn spy ring right in the heart of the EIA. The Narn were bad, but having information fall into Dilgar hands was unacceptable. Durban accelerated his plans, but to do it he had to take a big risk. Francis."

"Him again?" Leung grimaced.

"Our big problem was how do we do a computer trace to find the leak when it's our computer section that's the problem? If we gave you the job you'd just know we were on to you and destroy any evidence your team uncovered. We needed someone from outside the intelligence community, someone with no ties but with the skill to do the job. I mean come on, since when do we hire eighteen year olds? The EIA wants its people to have a little common sense and life experience first. Normally we'd have watched him for a few years, then made the offer but after the _Persephone_ we were out of options. We had to hire him even though he wasn't ready."

Leung was shaking his head. "You're right, he wasn't ready! He got it wrong!"

"He got it right." Jenny contradicted. "No wonder you were so suspicious and cold towards him. You didn't have his trust so you couldn't get him to tell you what he was doing for the Director. Hell Francis himself didn't know the real story so he wouldn't accidently warn you."

Leung checked his back, sending stabbing fire through his muscles as he reached around and brought his hand back red with blood. "I need help." He said in a pleading voice. "You made a mistake, and, and I don't hold it against you, just get me a doctor!"

"You're getting nothing until you confess!"

"I haven't done anything wrong!"

"You can't expect me to believe that!" Jenny scoffed. "Once Franci found the computer trail everything else made sense, Where did that Dilgar get a safe house from, or how about information on how to drive a car? The computer he used was trashed, but we still found traces of Earth made components in it which he would have had no access to, yet there they were set up in his safe house!"

"That doesn't mean it was me!" Leung cried out as much in anger as pain.

"What about that fiasco at the 10K tower? How did he know Deputy Hirotsu was making a speech that day? Only Psi Corps and us knew about that! How did he get into the building? That place had airtight security, except for the basement electronic sensors which you were responsible for deploying and monitoring from here! You left a gap for him!"

"NO!"

"And now he gets into the EarthGov compound itself, the most secure sight in the damn Alliance and you still say he didn't have help on the inside." Jenny was positively shaking with anger. "You must have disabled a section of the detection grid so he could just walk up, only someone highly placed in the security services could have done that."

"You've got it wrong, you have!"

"I was hoping our friend here," she gestured at the Spectre's body, "Would name you with his own words, but I guess I was kidding myself. I just didn't want to believe you of all people would betray Earth."

Leung was in serious pain now, the cold rain all but unnoticeable. He was having to brace his body against uncontrolled spasms and all his muscles were tensed. "Look, Jenny, please. Get me a doctor!"

She knelt down in the mud about six feet away from him. "You never made it to the field, you just spent all your time here." Jenny cast her eyes down as she spoke. "One of the things they teach us is how to use pain, it can be one hell of a motivator if you need someone to talk. Your wounds aren't instantly fatal for a reason, they are there to encourage you to talk."

Leung tried to laugh, but it was lost in a yell of pain. "Are you insane!"

"This is how I was trained." She answered with no emotion. "Don't make this harder on yourself then it has to be. Just tell me where your orders came from."

"This is torture!"

"No, torture comes later, if you don't talk right now." Jenny spoke icily. "Don't make me do this, because you know I'll take this as far as it needs to go."

Leung suppressed a scream, he wasn't going to be able to endure this anymore. His game was up and he had nothing to lose. "My orders," he said heavily. "My orders were from Jha'dur."

"What were they?"

"Just to help this Spectre, she gave me a list of things that needed doing and I sent them through my operatives to do it."

"What was his mission?"

"I don't know, I swear I don't know!" Leung gritted his teeth again as more pain washed over. "The Dilgar contacted me through the Narn, they offered me twenty million to help this guy, it was the money, nothing more, just money. I have a family!"

"I know," she snarled. "I've seen them, I had dinner with your wife and you betrayed them as well as Earth!"

"No, Earth is in no danger from the Dilgar!" Leung protested. "They won't fight us!"

"How can you be in the EIA and still be so stupid? The Dilgar will fight anyone, didn't you read my report on them?"

"They are no threat to us, and they were offering so much for nothing! I couldn't say no, now just help me!"

With a look of disgust she threw Leung a painkiller from the medical kit the Security soldier had given her for her leg. Leung eagerly injected it and within seconds the pain had subsided to a dull numbness, but the physical damage remained the same and he would need a doctor.

"Thank you." He said to Jenny. "You have to know none of this was personal."

"Yeah? Well nearly getting gutted by a Dilgar Agent you let in here kinda makes me feel pretty personal." She refused to look at him. "You know how many deaths are on your hands?"

"It wasn't meant to be this way, I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"For a spy your lying sucks" Jenny scolded. "I can't believe I trusted you."

"I'm not a bad person, I love Earth, but I just want to be able to enjoy my life, and that needs money. I'm sorry."

"You're words are poison to me." Jenny sneered. "I trusted you, the Director trusted, every person on this planet trusted you to do your part in protecting them, and this is what happens. You revolt me."

Leung shrugged. "What do you want me to say? It wasn't malicious, it was business."

"When I got back from New York the Director asked to see me personally, I expected it was just a standard debrief." She stood up, the rain running down her face. "Then he told me about all that Francis had found, and I still didn't believe him. He entrusted me with the mission of getting you to talk, and now you have and it's all true. It is over Leung, it's all over."

"Yeah." He sighed. "But there is a way to avoid embarrassment, I mean a public trial would not be good for the Agency."

"Director Durban said the same thing."

"Right, and I want to try and make it up, really I do, I didn't mean for any of this." Leung stared at her. "Let me help."

"Help how?"

"I can be a double agent, keep me out of jail and, and, and I'll feed them false information!" He began speaking with enthusiasm. "I can be on the inside, I can let you know all the things Jha'dur wants from me, I can colour her image of Earth however the EIA wants!"

"And of course take all their money in the process." Jenny rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you, you are just scum."

"I don't want their money anymore!" he waved his arms.

"Good, because the Director emptied all three of your hidden accounts, one from the Dilgar and two from the Narn."

Leung froze. "He did what?"

"He donated the money to the Red Cross, they're going to use it to build an aid station at Eridani to help victims of the Dilgar." She smiled a little. "He liked the idea of Jha'dur's bribe paying to save those she tried to kill."

"You took all my money!" Leung exclaimed.

"I thought you didn't care?" Jenny gave him a sidewise glance. "It is blood money, people died for it, you have no rights at all right now."

Leung forced himself to hold his temper and stay calm, he was in an incredibly difficult position and needed to keep Jenny stable. He needed a doctor and he needed to stay out of jail.

"I can still work for you, for Earth I mean. The Director likes you, I bet you can convince him I'll be useful."

"As a double agent?"

"Yeah, and the money can go to charity, like he did already."

Jenny shook her head. "The Director has already decided what to do with you, and he asked me to handle it." She chuckled without humour. "He said he would have asked Chapel, that this was more his line of work, but Vic is still in hospital thanks to your friend, so it's up to me."

Leung's eyes grew wider. "No, you can't mean that."

"You were a right, we can't afford a trial and an inquest. Not only would it be bad for our reputation it would also let the galaxy and of course Jha'dur know that we had found her little spy ring. She'd just shut it down, form another and we'd go through all this again."

"So, so you need me?" Leung said with desperate hope. "You need me to stay quiet!"

Jenny shook her head and took the safety off her gun.

"No, wait, if you kill me you'll never crack the spy ring!"

"Francis already opened all your files. We know their names and addresses." Jenny answered. "They never met you, they just know you by e-mail. They send their reports to your computer, which we own, and we send back whatever fake orders we want to. Then we use your same machine to let the Dilgar read whatever reports we want them to read, build up a picture of Earth in their mind which is our image, not the true image."

"I can help you, you can trust me!"

"No, no I can't." She raised the handgun. "I trusted you once and you nearly got me killed. I have my orders, you know how field agents are trained to deal with enemy agents."

"But you're not like the others!" Leung pleaded. "Don't do it!"

"I'll tell your wife you died doing your duty."

"No!" Leung yelled and raised his hands.

Jenny fired once, and sent Leung hard back into the wall. Then she stepped mechanically forward and at point blank range put four more bullets into vital parts of his body. She only needed one bullet to do the job, but field agents were trained not to leave witnesses and to make damn sure they didn't get up afterwards.

Jenny turned her back on the scene and raised her head, letting the rain cleanse the day's terror and treachery from her mind. She stood like that for a long time, trying not to have too many thoughts and simply feeling the rain caress her face and trickle down her neck.

This was her job, it was her life and it was hard to see through at times. Leung had been her support officer during her first assignment, he had guided her through the Mars Resistance base she had been ordered to blow up and managed to get her through safely. He had been a good man, and today her world changed. He had been supporting the Dilgar agent in the same way, it was one more thing she and the Spectre held in common.

She walked away, leaving spy and spymaster lying in the rain for the forensic team to deal with, if nothing else the technology the Spectre had brought would be a boon to military research here on Earth. That alone was probably worth the price of acquisition, and the cracking of the spy ring was another great victory for the EIA, but Jenny didn't see it that way. She had been betrayed by a friend and then put a dozen bullets in him. She didn't feel much like celebrating.

Mitoc, League of Non Aligned Worlds

"Break off! I say again, break off!"

The warning was far too late, and Captain Marso had the fearful sight of two frigates being reduced to their components in a few seconds. They had taken his people months to build, an unprecedented economic push to finance and were crewed with true pioneers of the Mitoc race. Now they were cooling ash vanishing towards the edge of the system.

Marso had seen this day coming, he wasn't psychic but he understood more readily than most the truth in this galaxy, at least the truth as it applied to the Dilgar. They had come charging from the least interesting region of space near the League and systematically killed, bombed or sliced their way through every race which stood between them and whatever their ultimate goal was. The titans of the League, multi world super powers with thousand year old technologies and the firepower and defences that the Mitoc could only dream of had been attacked and defeated in a matter of weeks, not years as most people in the League had expected in times of war. Each world, one after another, had concluded that the Dilgar must now stop, that they had finally reached whatever illusionary objective they were working towards, and each time those who hesitated had been struck down by simple shock and carefully applied force.

The Dilgar had cut off both the Hyach and Brakiri, and that now put them within striking distance of the Leagues heartlands, on one side was the Cascor Commonwealth, a race of small furry mammals who made excellent fighter pilots. Their military was on a crash building programme churning out fighters and warships daily but their small and light designs were going to have a hard time against the massed guns of the Dilgar navy. In the middle was Krish, and on the far side was Mitoc. Both these worlds were new to the galactic scene and were just starting to expand, the Krish viewed space with boundless optimism and embraced exploration without heeding the dangers inherent in travel. Krish ships were unarmed and easy pickings for Pirates until the Mitoc intervened. The two young worlds had shared a bond of common friendship born from their age and newness in space. They were the firmest of allies and the Mitoc had taken it upon themselves to protect not just their own world, but also the Krish. The Mitoc navy would be an umbrella to shelter both planets from the expected storm.

Sadly the plan had one flaw. Currently the Mitoc navy consisted of less than thirty ships, and their most capable vessel was little maore than a large Frigate barely entering service. There were plans for more ships, for cruisers built with economic aid from the League and for a vast and diverse combat force. Sadly their Frigates were now outnumbered three to one just by the cruisers emerging from hyperspace, not even counting the swarms of escorts and fighters clouding space.

The Dilgar Imperium clearly had plans for Mitoc, not that Captain Marso really cared about that, just about keeping them out of orbit. Unlike the rest of the galaxy Mitoc and Krish had predicted this would happen, they had expected a Dilgar attack and reacted appropriately as much as their means allowed. For the Mitoc it had meant scrambling every ship that had a gun or missile fixed to it, for the Krish it had meant evacuation. Marso had recently returned from Krish and the space around their world was crammed with freighters loading up with refugees. They had planned to come here to Mitoc for protection, but it was looking increasingly likely that that would no longer be possible. As he watched the armada assume an attack formation Marso concluded his people's future would be measured in days. The Dilgar were not known for their mercy.

"All ships, this is fleet command." A dour sounding voice spoke on the bridge speakers. Fleet command was a rather grand name for a single room in the government building, its capabilities similar in scope to a communications cruiser in most other races fleets and nothing like the vast orbital facilities at Shri'shrabi or Centauri Prime. "We have detected multiple signals coming through hyperspace, report status."

That was an understatement and a half.

"This is Captain Marso, Dilgar forces are entering the system, five hundred plus. Two ships are down and the enemy fleet is heading for the planet."

"The gods in their pantheon." The voice far below echoed quietly, muffled voices in the background sending the news across the planets leadership networks. "All ships, retire to orbit. Coordinate with planetary defences."

"Acknowledged." Marso hid his sigh of relief, it was at best a temporary reprieve but he'd take anything he could get. "Helm, hard about. Drop mines and get us into orbit, maximum speed." With the Dilgar on their tail he doubted the engineering staff would keep anything back.

The small warship and her sisters performed sharp turns and fled from the path of the Dilgar fleet, the lumbering warships barely paying them any attention. They held their silent course and continued on towards their primary target, Mitoc itself.

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

"Enemy fleet is retreating." Captain An'jash stated curtly. "No damage to our vessels."

"Deploy fighter wings ahead." Warmaster Jha'dur said calmly, watching the tactical maps closely. "Have them make sure these amateurs didn't leave any surprises for the fleet."

Jha'dur considered the Mitoc response to be formulaic and unimaginative, all they had done was the same thing every other race had tried, mass their ships and planetary weapons together and hope for the best. Naturally they didn't stand a chance against even half of her fleet, but it didn't seem to register with them. They were going to die within the next few minutes, if Jha'dur was in that position she would do all she could to make those few minutes memorable, a story to inspire or intimidate for generations to come. It had always amused her how other races never seemed to understand that, becoming a legend in death was better than simply fading away in life. Every Dilgar she had served with seemed to agree and it made them such fearsome opponents. Each and every one of them wanted to be a legend, to stand above ruined worlds and countless dead enemies, and the League was their way of earning that glory. These were truly great days for her people, and she wished they would never end.

Somewhere ahead there was a series of explosions.

"Black wing reports enemy mine field located." Her ajudant reported. "They are working to eliminate it."

Jha'dur simply nodded, the retreating ships had dropped mines and obstacles but it seemed clear there were no static defences, just a handful of satellites and a civilian space station. For once intelligence had been corrected, proof positive that she could only trust her own subordinates and not Len'char and his lackeys.

More flashes rippled in the void in front of the blue and white globe in the distance, the world that her people might one day call home. That sudden thought made her pause for a while, the simple enormity of it only gradually sinking in.

"Captain, put Mitoc on the main tactical display, main camera feed."

"Yes Warmaster."

The symbols representing her ships on a plain electronic grid vanished as the screen showed realtime footage of the planet, a few barely visible specks representing either her own frontline or the retreating Mitoc warships. It was the planet beyond that held her attention, it had deep seas and extraordinary lush greenery in the temperate regions. It had few deserts and a lush tropical belt around the equators. As she stood and just basked in its beauty, it really did take her breath away.

Omelos had looked like this once in the days before industrialization and Nuclear war. All the survey data had told her this, from mean temperatures to atmospheric and gravity conditions through to ambient radiation levels. It was as close a match to the ideal version of a Dilgar world as she could hope for, and while Krish also came very close there was a reason she had decided to lead this attack and not the one on the other planet. She wanted to see this place with her own eyes, she wanted to be the first of the decision makers to look upon it. She wanted to be the first to call it home.

Omelos was ruined even before the news of the sun's instability had been discovered. Its resources were running out, vast swathes of land were uninhabitable thanks to radioactive fall out and toxins and the population continued to rise despite all efforts. Sooner or later the Dilgar would be forced to turn to the stars for survival, ultimately that time had been sooner than predicted. Her people had not hesitated to slay each other with swords and axes, they had not hesitated to gun each other down or to deploy Nuclear weapons as soon as they were developed. They certainly did not hesitate to export that violence to the League. Often it was harder to hold them back than to urge them forward.

Jha'dur's fleet was a little different, she knew they would restrain themselves and not use too much force in this battle. She had ordered the planet be left untouched until a decision was made by the Warmaster's council and that meant no massive orbital strikes. There would also be a minimum deployment of Biological weapons to preserve the ecology and the native population to act as slave labour.

It was the perfect package, and Jha'dur would deliver it personally. She was going to be the first of her kind to set foot on that world.

"Pentacans Three, Seven and Nine take point." She ordered. "Bring us in close behind, all batteries may engage at will."

Frigate _Tarami_

The small Mitoc task force turned on their heels, swinging their meagre weapons outwards and tracking the closest Dilgar force.

"Particle cannons ready, plasma weapons online." The ships first officer reported.

"Get me a secure link to the three nearest ships." Captain Marsa ordered. "We can't take a cruiser alone, but if we focus our squadron one target at a time we might have a chance."

"Yes sir, creating data link."

Marsa wasn't kidding himself, even working together this fleet had no chance. But he wanted to take down at least one Dilgar cruiser, a big one, something to make sure the Dilgar remembered this day. He had spent plenty of time working with aliens, and he knew that he could send a message to the leader of this fleet about determination.

"Sensors, do we have a flag ship identification?" Marsa asked brusquely

"Yes sir, it's the _Deathwalker._"

Deathwalker. The name had travelled far in League space, as had the reputation behind it. At least, Marsa thought, they would meet their end at the hands of the Master not some jumped up underling. If they were lucky, they might just take her with them.

"Where is she?"

"Over six hundred thousand miles distant," his sensor officer replied. "The enemy front line is just two hundred thousand miles from us."

Marso did the math fast, to get to the feared Dilgar leader he was going to have to fight his way past most of the enemy fleet with less than two dozen decent warships and a few score armed freighters and scouts. He cursed quietly at his chances of getting even a third of that distance.

"New target, pick the local flagship, whatever vessel is closest." He felt bile rising in his throat, with his world doomed he wasn't in the mood to settle for a Battlemaster or Warleader, he wanted the Deathwalker herself. But it was better to do any damage then risk it all and lose. He hoped he would live long enough for the opportunity to present itself.

"Vessel locked sir."

Marso acknowledged with a grunt and narrowed his eyes. "All ahead flank, slashing attack, and gods go with us."

The four Frigates began to move, falling into two pairs and hanging within a few miles of each other. The small vessels were fairly fast and agile even compared to the Dilgar light warships and escorts which gave them a slight advantage over their foes. Marso took the small fleet on a wide course around the flank of the defensive force and made for a group of Dilgar ships holding back to make sure the main body of the force was not surprised by a surprise attack from deep space. It was a basic formation, the Mitoc Captain seriously doubted Jha'dur was expecting an attack on either flank but it kept her fleet in practice and let her test fleet formations and coordination. It was like a game for them, his world was just sport and Marso was not going to stand for that.

In the distance the Dilgar front line was crossing the minefield, their fighters nimbly destroying the sparsely deployed weapons as soon as they activated and burned towards the warships. Long range missiles were being fired from the orbital defences and were proceeding at a painful pace towards the fleet, the enemy held fire until the last minute before picking off the weapons with point defence pulsar cannons.

"Moving into range captain."

Marso nodded grimly, activating ship to ship communications. "Assume pincer formation, Captain Tarri take the _Poyta _and _Carallo_ And sweep in from the port side, I'll strike from the Starboard side."

"Confirmed." His fellow ship commander answered from across the void. "Dreadnought locked."

The four Mitoc ships broke into pairs and accelerated, no fighters of escorts rose to met them and the Dreadnought barely noticed, holding its course and speed.

"Don't they see us?" Marso's second asked in agitation. "They have to see us!"

"Maintain course." Marso said firmly, though inside he was far from certain. He really didn't like this. "Standby to fire and for all our sakes watch those sensors for danger."

Captain Tarri's ships were the first to enter range and opened fire with a drizzle of plasma and particle weapons, flashing through the dark and splashing across the Dilgar ships armour. They caused no damage, the thick hull taking the hits without complaint. As soon as the first hits were registered the warships weapons went active and powerful sensors began locking on to the Mitoc ships.

"Captain Tarri, break off, it's a trap! A game!"

"What?"

"We can't hurt them and they know it!" Marso yelled. "It's target practice! Break!"

"No, we can't."

"Tarri, that's an order, she's powering main weapons! Pull away!"

"And go where? Our home is under attack! There is no retreat!" Tarri replied with a strength in his voice.. "We have no where else to go, our weapons might not work but we can still hurt them."

"Captain." Marso kept speaking, but his mind was in a swirl. "My friend, don't do it."

"Goodby Marso, and good luck."

The two Frigates put all their power into their engines, pushing themselves further forward and accelerating up to ramming speed. Marso was too far away to help, he could only watch in impotent frustration as his friends plunged towards certain death. The Dilgar warship swung its heavy weapons into position, waited a heartbeat, and then opened fire. The energy bolts were physically larger than the two Frigates they were aimed at and in one hit Tarri's ship fragmented into a cloud of silver and red. The second ship fell out of the sky an instant later, physically blasted in two losing half its mass in the process, the two truncated ends vanishing into the bleakness of space.

It had happened too fast to be real, Marso hadn't even come to the realisation that his comrade was going to try and do something so suicidal before it was over, and two ships had gone. The Dilgar Warship altered course slightly to intercept the _Tarami_ and her sister showing absolutely no consideration for the lives just snuffed out. And why should they? Marso grimaced, too empty even to shed a tear. To the Dilgar it was practice, to his people it was the final sunset.

"All power to engines." He ordered. "Standby ramming speed."

His crew knew it would mean death even in success. They knew that it would make no difference to their world and little difference to the Dilgar. They had sen their comrades get blown out of the sky with ease trying the same thing and there was no reason they would do any better.

They also implemented the order without a second's hesitation, straining in their seats as the engines burned up to overload power.

"Fleet Command to all ships, all ships!" The frantic voice yelled through the speakers. "All ships make for grid fourteen, full speed. All other orders overriden, this is a direct order from the Regent!"

Marso grunted and replied, he never liked changing his mind even in this circumstance. "This is _Tarami_ confirm those orders command!"

"Confirmed." The female said. "We are evacuating as much of the fleet as we can."

"How? The gate is buried in Dilgar warships! Our only duty is to do as much damage as we can!"

"No, no!" she shouted, military protocol had more or less vanished when the enemy was confirmed. "There is a Hyach logistics cruiser up in Fourteen, it has the League ambassador onboard!"

"An Ambassadorial Transport?" Marso considered. "Is it Jump capable?"

"Exactly, it's offering to hold th ejump point for us, get up there now!"

Marso hesitated. "But Mitoc, we can't abandon the defense."

"There is no defense." The voice said bluntly. "We lost this as soon as the Dilgar began attacking, the Regent is going to ask a surrender."

"Surrender? This is Deathwalker we're fighting! She'll just kill everyone!"

"Not everyone, not if we can evacuate some ships." The voice said. "Defend the Hyach ship, then escape when it does. Those are the last orders of Mitoc Fleet Command. Good luck, and remember us."

Marso hated the orders, he hated them. He was resigned to ending his life alongside his world, he didn't know if he could leave and continue living when his world was gone. He didn't know how anyone could.

"Helm, break off." He ordered. "Make for grid fourteen."

"Yes sir." Came the reply. "Dilgar fighters coverging on that sector, warships three minutes away."

There were hundreds of ships in space packed with refugees, there was absolutely no way they could all leave, they would be lucky if they saved five ships.

"Destroy everything you can, protect the Hyach ship." Marso ordered. "Make every shot count. Make them remember us."

The two frigares came hard about, rattling with the G-force of the turn before speeding up towards the cruiser. Other frigates from other sectors also moved in along with whatever surviving fighters the Mitoc had. Only the fastest ships were going to make it, and the armed freighters and converted civilian ships that made up most of the navy didn't even try. They advanced on the Dilgar ships approaching orbit and tried to delay the inevitable, even if only for a few seconds.

Bright lights flashed ahead as the Dilgar fighters began strafing the Hyach ship. The diplomatic vessel was lightly armed but returned fire, the nimble Thorun Dart fighters avoided the fire with contemptable ease. A flight of Mitoc interceptors tried to chase them down, streakig plasma bolts at the Dilgar to little avail. On volley hit a Thorun only to simply bounce off its armour as it spun to engage with it's own guns. The Mitoc fighters took evasive action, but it merely gave the Thorun pilots a few extra seconds to aim before utterly destroying the flight.

"We're in range."

Marso sneered with some delight, Frigate versus Dreadnought was one thing, Frigate versus fighters was something else. "Open fire, full supression protocol."

The Frigate swooped past the Hyach vessel firing retro thrusters to slow it on the way. The glow of the engines was complemented by a sudden stream of particle and plasma rounds from the vessels small turrets crossing the path of the Dilgar fighters. The Thoruns were still recovering from taking down the Mitoc fighters and were not ready for the assault from a warship. They accelerated to full speed and broke formation but not fast enough, and four of their number vanished in brief explosions. The survivors were caught in a box as more Frigates arrived on the scene and in a few seconds the squadron was annihilated.

The crew offered a cheer of victory, it was a smal measure but it was something. They had never fought a real enemy before, and likely never would again so every triumph deserved to be savoured.

"Watch your stations." Marso reminded. "More fighters inbound."

With admirable professionalism the crew brought the ship around and began firing on the next wave of Dilgar fighters in conjunction with the rest of the fleet. The Frigates set up a barrier of interlocking fire that even the skilled Thorun pilots couldn't break through and after five losses they pulled back and decided to leave it to the bigger units.

"Hyach cruiser ready to jump." The first officer announced. "We have eight civilian ships and fourteen Frigates in proximity."

"Is that all?" Marso asked, regretting the tone of the question afterwards.

"Yes sir."

Not much for a civilisation to be remembered by. "Very well. Where are the Dilgar ships?"

"Twenty seconds until range. One cruiser level Pentacan, it'll cut through us like grass."

"Then lets make sure we aren't here." Marso replied. "We have our orders, whatever we feel about them we are here and we have a job to do. Once we're through we'll wait in hyperspace and see if we can help. Await any further signals from home."

Marso was doubtful they would ever hear from home again, but relaying that opinion wasn't going to make this situation any easier.

"Cruiser is activating jump engines, vortex forming."

"Let the civilians go first, then follow them through."

The ship hummed a little as power shifted from system to system and the Frigate began to reverse towards the Vortex, the other ships also collapsing back around the few refugee ships close enough to make it. The incoming Dilgar strike cruisers opened fire but they were still just out of range and the energy weapons barely had the power of the Mitoc Frigates own cannons. One was hit, but the damage was negligible.

One by one the ships stretched away into hyperspace and relative safety, followed by the Mitoc warships. Marso didn't even look back as his vessel departed. His crew assumed it was a defiant gesture, that he was looking purely to the future and not dwelling on the past. In truth it wa sbecause he feared that if he saw his world one last time he would break down in tears right there on the bridge.

The Hyach cruiser was the last to leave, timing its exit just befre the Dilgar warships gained an accurate firing solution. She disappeared and sealed the Vortex behind her, closing the door on Mitoc and it's people forever.

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

The Warmaster noted the small fleet leaving and wrote them off as insignificant, a dozen light ships weren't going to change anything in the grand scheme of things. The Mitoc defenses had broken before the main strength of her fleet had even engaged and the few pockets of scattered resistence were quickly silenced by overwhelming firepower. She'd lost less than a hundred people.

"Captain, what is the status of the Mitoc fixed defenses?"

An'jash took a moment to compile readings from the fleet's ELINT vessels nestled in among the warships.

"The few ground batteries are powered, the orbital satellites are active."

"We will deploy fighter strikes to remove the satellites." Jha'dur ordered. "Then remove the ground guns with precsion bombardment."

"Yes Warmaster, Black wing is…" she paused as new data fed across her screen. "Warmaster, the planet is broadcasting it's unconditional surrender."

"Indeed?" Jha'dur smiled thinly.

"Confirmed Warmaster, they are offering to just give up." She shrugged and discarded any further thought. "Our squadrons are formed up and bombardment group reports Nuclear Warheads armed."

"Very well captain. Now open a channel to the planet."

An'jash was a little taken aback by that, usually Jha'dur just did the job with none of the posing and blustering other Warmasters were known for. Still, if she wanted to gloat her aide was not going to stop her.

"Ready Warmaster."

"Mitoc Government, this is Warmaster Jha'dur of the Dilgar Imperium. I accept your surrender, disarm your planetary defences and I assure you we will not engage in orbital bombardment. I shall accept your surrender personally later this week. You have ten minutes to comply, if you do not we will continue the attack. That is all."

I ttook An'jash a couple of moments to register that jha'dur wasn't actually going to gloat, and she quickly turned off the communication device. "Channel closed."

"I can see your question Captain." Jha'dur was smiling. "You would have bombed them into oblivion, correct?"

"It is not my place to question Warmaster."

"Of course it is, if I wanted a thoughtless aide I would have picked one of Len'char's students!" she chuckled. "You disagree captain?"

She nodded. "I would have removed them by force, not made a deal for their lives."

"Patience, I have plans for Mitoc." The Warmaster said. "However we must take our time. If Mitoc is to be our new home I want it pristine, dropping nukes and rocks on it will be counter productive. Better to win this way, put our peple on the surface, and then deal with the Mitoc and clear the way for our race."

An'jash nodded. "Yes Warmaster." Jha'dur was a good teacher to learn from, not the sort of person to take the obvious action. "The planetary defences are shutting down."

"Good. Inform the Council we have taken Mitoc intact, then I want a landing party prepared. I shall take the surrender personally."

"Are you sure Warmaster?" An'jash asked cautiously. "There is a chance they may try and assassinate you."

"No, no they won't." She smiled. "They know exactly what will happen if they tried."

"Planetary Armageddon."

"Exactly right Captain. Keep me informed of preparations and the situation at Krish. I shall be in my quarters preparing for the meeting." She paused. "Nobody lands on that planet before I do. Make sure the whole fleet knows."

"Yes ma'am."

With a final nod Jha'dur stood and walked off the bridge, throwing one last look at Mitoc. It was hers now, a whole planet balanced on her mercy. The word amused her, of all the things she possessed mercy was one of the least seen qualities, but like everything else it had it's place. This victory was bloodless, after all if this was the new Dilgar homeworld they were going to need slaves to build it. She just made sure they didn't have to import any.

With a final chuckle the door slid shut behind her.

Krish

League Space

At the same instant Jha'dur's fleet arrived in the Mitoc system, a few light years away a second fleet emerged unwanted and unannounced into the Krish Star system. Like the Mitoc the Krish were new to the galaxy and had barely begun to set up a spacefaring infrastructure and exercise their League membership when this war had begun. Naturally they wanted no part of it, they were a race predisposed to peace and almost totally incapable of violence on a psychological level. They had no weapons, no warships, no defences, no army, not even what most races would consider a police force. Their society was almost utopian in its peacefulness, and that only made the Dilgar grin wider as they deployed to attack.

"Did the information prove correct?" Warmaster Sha'dur asked in a slightly bored tone, he'd never considered a full scale planetary assault could actually be dull. The war had clearly changed his perception of things, now it took carnage on a fleet scale to raise his interest.

"Yes sir." Captain Evenil confirmed from her position in front to his right. "The system is undefended, the only ships I can detect are refugee vessels and one Brakiri light cruiser."

"Launch fighters." Sha'dur ordered. "Move fifth and sixth Pentacans to cover the Jump gate, nobody leaves."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Order them to fire on any vessel that approaches the gate." Sha'dur continued. "In fact order them to fire on any ship that drifts into range, they need the gunnery practice." He shrugged inwardly, this whole mission was little more than target practice. "The rest of the fleet will assume blockade and bombardment positions over the planet and await my command."

Ari'shan's fighter rumbled as the engines built up power, rattling the panels and fixings in the cockpit along with his teeth. It only served to build up the excitement and anticipation at going into battle for only the second time now after the battle over Brakir. His conduct there had earned him a commendation as well as fifteen kills for his new tally, each displayed on his Thorun fighters nose as a red blazing star. It wasn't unusual in this war for a Dilgar pilot to make himself an 'Ace in a day' but fifteen kills in one battle was something a little bit special, especially on his first combat mission. He hoped it would silence those who claimed he only had his commission because his Father was Supreme Warmaster.

"Standby." The calm tones of the ship's flight controller announced. "Ten seconds."

The launch rail moved back slightly as it locked into position beneath his craft, then the hangar doors began to fold down, the thick metal slabs slowly showing the distant orb of Krish in the distance. To Ari'shan it was an unremarkable looking place, but if command believed it had value he would be content to fight for it. He believed that the reasons for fighting were secondary to the actual honour and nobility inherent in the act of combat itself. He knew some of his colleagues agreed, and they tended to also gravitate towards the fighter corps were individual prowess was the most important factor in battle, modern day Knights and warriors fighting simply to prove that they could.

The red and white flashing lights threw stark shadows across his control panel, all his systems registering perfect condition. The sirens outside grew fainters as the air that carried their cacophony evacuated into space leaving total silence in the hangar, a moment of utter peace that Ari'shan savoured, closing his eyes and basking for a few seconds in the pre-battle tranquillity.

The hangar doors ground silently open, revealing the familiar darkness beyond and some new alien planet in the distance.

"Five seconds." Announced the plain voice again, it could almost have been a computer.

Ari'shan made the final preparation, inserting a disc into the highly irregular music player over to his right side. Most fighters had recorders for mission log dictation, but Ari'shan had changed it to play as well as record and used it to provide some relaxing music which he found centred his mind in battle. If the senior staff knew they said nothing, hopefully because he'd proven that it worked during the last battle, though he had to accept it could be because of his family ties.

He was not alone, he had two elder brothers who were now fairly well placed, one commanded a cruiser while the other had an infantry regiment. They too had worked hard to earn their place rather than use grace and favours from their father, indeed Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan had done nothing to help his sons careers, just words of support and advice. The fact that he was also almost a brother to Jha'dur probably also helped to keep people wary of him for fear of her wrath.

Still, it might help with his fellow officers, but his family connections would mean nothing to the enemy, or it might even make him a more desirable target. Something he understood and actually relished as it meant he could be sure of meeting the best of the alien pilots as they sought to earn glory of their own. For Ari'shan it was an ideal situation.

The count down ended and with a sudden jolt the magnetic catapult engaged, throwing his fighter down the rails and out into the welcoming void. He braced for a few moments as the acceleration stabilised and his Dart fighter coasted out and away from the arching mandibles of the launching dreadnought, the rest of the squadron falling into formation alongside. They were still five people down after the battle for Brakir as Ari'shan insisted on interviewing potential replacements in person to make sure they shared his view on warfare.

"Knight leader to command, we are free and clear to proceed." He spoke calmly into his communication set.

"Knight squadron, link up with Devil wing and engage target Alpha, Brakiri light cruiser in grid Nineteen." The clipped voice of Captain Evenil sounded, she was one of the best aides in the fleet with the characteristic short speech and short temper that comes with the job. The Warmaster gave the orders, but people like Evenil made sure things happened.

"Orders confirmed." Ari'shan replied, checking the data feed from the flagship and watching as the map was updated to show the location of the Brakiri ship. It looked like it had been caught outside Brakiri space when the Dilgar attacked and now had no safe harbour to return to. The Krish were known for their non aggressive and charitable personality and had apparently granted this ship a measure of asylum. It was the only warship in the entire system that didn't bear Dilgar colours.

"Devil wing, engage from all quarters at once." Ari'shan ordered. "Mark your timing and try not fly into each other. Go for weapons and engines first, then break her open."

The engines burst into a blue and purple fire and threw the pilots towards to Brakiri ship. The cruiser had no jump engines of its own nor any fighters, though it did have a healthy anti fighter gun battery which could cause trouble. The Thorun wing consisted of three squadrons of which one was armed with missiles, the other two including Ari'shan would have to rely on guns. Still, a few well placed shots with their cannons would be enough to knock out the Brakiri ships guns and engines, then they could take the rest of the day picking the cruiser apart.

"I want missile squadron to engage from directly astern three seconds after my unit engages." Ari'shan ordered. "I'll draw their fire, you take out the engines with a missile strike. Spear squadron attack from the port quarter, Knights follow me in from the starboard quarter. The fleet is watching so show them how it is done."

The fighters wheeled away in a flurry of thrusters bursts and glimmering light, the distant sun glinting on the canopies and gleaming painted hulls of the Dart fighters as they rolled and spun. They split into their squadrons and began the long circle around to the Brakiri ship which had noticed the peril and was arming its weapons. Ari'shan's craft could have been a swarm of piranha circling a shark gradually closing the distance and preparing to rush in and take a few bites from the bigger opponent before retiring to safety.

They reached their positions and then turned to face the cruiser and accelerated forward, Ari'shan's squadron first followed by the second strike squadron and then a few seconds later by the missile armed squadron. The Brakiri ship had three threats to divide its firepower against and simply not enough weapons to cover every arc. The Captain had to decide where to point his guns, at the two squadrons ahead or the missile armed squadron behind, both of which represented serious threats. In the end he went for the missile armed squadron throwing up a desolutary fire at Ari'shan's force.

"Increase speed." The young officer ordered. "Stay level, Spear squadron go for the main guns, Knight squadron engage the point defences."

One of the missile armed fighters exploded like an egg, tiny fragments showering its wing mates and leaving silver scratches on the paint. A missile spiralled frantically away, left remarkably intact by the explosion. The debris flew on with its squadron in a macabre formation as its inertia carried forth into battle as if the ghost of the pilot still wished to serve and kill.

Ari'shan's data crystal began a new piece of music, a funeral dirge from the opera 'Fall of Tasara' reciting an ancient story of a great Dilgar city destroyed by savages. It was not a popular piece, his people preferred tales of triumph rather than loss but Ari'shan could see the deeper meaning in that particular story, that even in defeat his race was dangerous. He had thought that quality was unique to the Dilgar until he'd seen his mentors video footage of the Earth Cruiser _Persephone_. That ship had shown that nobility in the face of death could occur in aliens too, and it had made the young pilot think a great deal about the preconceptions his officer training had filled him with.

He buried his thoughts for the time being as the Brakiri ship went from a small green blur to a full sized warship a few hundred meters long. It had the familiar Brakiri design with an oblong main hull and two tall fins housing the gravitic propulsion system inside, which the Brakiri were still experimenting with but with surprising success. They were a race of scavengers to many in the galaxy, but they certainly had an ingenuity that deserved credit and one day if they could ever stand to work with their business rivals they could have a grand fleet. Assuming any of them were allowed to survive the Dilgar occupation. That unfortunately did not seem likely.

The young Dilgar let his instincts guide him, he weaved left and avoided three rounds of bound energy that seared past his canopy and away into the cold. The cruisers main guns engaged sending a massive beam of gravitons into the space between the squadrons, but it was a fixed emplacement and didn't have the accuracy to hit the nimble fighters.

The two squadrons converged, Ari'shan took his over the cruiser while the other squadron went under it firing on the main cannon. They only needed to collapse the barrel to knock it out and rolled past in a series of close strafing runs. With a deft flick of the controls he cut engines and dropped the fighters nose, the inertia kept him on a straight line but the entire fighter and those of his squadron were now aiming off axis at the Brakiri ship as they passed.

They were passing at such high speed that each Thorun had less than a second on target and each pilot had to trust the targeting computer to make the shot for them. Except for Ari'shan. He had trained rigorously to keep his faculties despite the high G-forces of battle and he was able to maintain a precise control of his fighter, adjusting the angle of attack minutely as the green hull flashed past in front of him. He took three shots, the first bored into the hull but the remaining two knocked out the lightly armoured turret he had designated as his target.

The two strike squadrons rotated as the coasted past, keeping their guns on the cruiser and firing on what was left of the defenses in a suppression role. As they rolled from the front of the ship to the back the third squadron equipped with missiles swept in from the other direction, passing through the middle of Ari'shan's two strike units and benefiting from the covering fire of his guns.

The missiles punched into the Brakiri ships stern, at least two hitting exactly on target and boring a dozen feet into the ships internal space before detonating. It had taken Jha'dur to recognize the simplicity of the solution to missile warfare in space, the problem had been the lack of air greatly reduced the blast effects of warheads meaning even nuclear devices had to be virtually touching a hull to really do damage. Rather than try to deploy bigger and bigger missiles which were then easier for the enemy to shoot down, she had simply ordered a smaller missile with a powerful engine and armoured head. Simply put the missile punched clean through the hull and detonated internally imparting the full effects of the warhead on the target ship and allowing a modest sub megaton warhead to utterly destroy half mile long warships.

Rumour had it she had found the idea on a broadcast coming from the distant Earth Alliance, though the Warmaster herself had said nothing.

In any case the back of the cruiser split open in a white hot plume of fire which threw out an expanding halo of light like a ring. It quickly faded leaving the glowing hot remains of the ship shredded and contorted in a mockery of its original form. It went completely dark and offered no more signs of resistance.

"Fleet command, Knight Squadron. Target destroyed." Ari'shan said proudly. "Area is clear of armed units, I am declaring this sector secure."

"Confirmed Knight Squadron." Evenil replied. "New target group, designated group Beta."

Ari'shan watched as the data fed through to his fighter's targeting with a little surprise, with the sector clear his job was done.

"Command, can you confirm this?" he asked. "I am not picking up any other hostile ships."

"Your target is a fast freighter group, Thirteen vessels." Evenil stated clearly. "Proceed and destroy. This is to be considered target practice, use whichever strike tactics you feel your unit needs to improve upon."

"Command, my squadron does not need practice. Request permission to return to station and assume guard detail."

"You have your orders." Evenil said with finality. "Destroy the ships."

"They are unarmed civilian vessels. They pose no challenge or threat to our forces." Ari'shan replied. "Destroying them would be dishonourable."

For a long moment there was no reply and Ari'shan wondered what was going on onboard the flagship. Probably a fairly incredulous discussion, but he was not going to change his mind. It wasn't so much that he cared about the civilian ships or feared for his conscience if he killed them, but it was diametrically opposed to his entire code of conduct. He was not a soldier, and he was certainly not a murderer, he was a duellist and he only accepted combat with those who could meet him with weapons in their hands. That was honourable combat and the reason for his existence. Anything else was a squandering of his talents and it cheapened him and the beliefs he felt best represented his race.

"Combat Captain Ari'shan." A male voice suddenly spoke on his radio. "Do you recognise my voice?"

Of course he did, he'd heard it thousands of times at home and in the field. "You are Warmaster Sha'dur."

"Correct." He said. "Proceed to target group Beta, destroy those ships, train your pilots in the latest ship attack tactics."

"Warmaster, with respect I feel these orders are against the spirit of the Dilgar Imperium."

He could almost imagine Sha'dur's jaw hanging loose. "Excuse me?"

"Sir, my pilots are the best in the fleet. We do not need to do this, we've already proven that by destroying the Brakiri cruiser."

"You will do as you are ordered Captain." Sha'dur had a strong edge of menace in his voice. "I don't care who your Father is, I have given an order and you will carry it out."

"Under the articles of war I consider this an unreasonable order that would harm the morale and fighting spirit of this unit, and therefore cannot obey." Ari'shan kept his voice level, but he was bordering on blind panic.

"Captain, you are aware of the penalty for insubordination?" Sha'dur asked.

"Yes sir, but death is a price I would pay before dishonour."

"Are you completely insane!" Sha'dur snapped. "This is war! You do not simply say 'no' you follow the chain of command! Now get out there and kill those people!"

"I cannot do that sir."

"I am giving you this one last chance, out of our friendship and respect for your Father who took in my sister and myself." Sha'dur said slowly but very forcefully. "Engage and destroy those targets."

Ari'shan did not back down, he simply couldn't. "I cannot do that sir."

There was a sigh on the radio. "As you wish. You are relieved of command and placed under arrest. Knight squadron return to base, Spear squadron attack and destroy target Beta."

The squadrons split, one headed in to destroy the refugee ships while Ari'shan lead his unit silently home. The penalty for disobeying an order was at best hard labour in a slave camp, which was almost always a death sentence. Most of the time though it was summary execution on the spot, usually involving an airlock and a slow death in hard vacuum. But Ari'shan was not as scared as he imagined he would be, he had listened to his conscience and had made an example of himself. The academies on Omelos were churning out murderers by the thousand, but Ari'shan wasn't one of them, nor would he ever be.

All he cared about was dying with his honour intact, and while this wasn't exactly what he had in mind, and while the entire military establishment would call him a total fool, he felt some pride at following his conscience and not killing thousands of refugees just because he could. It was a costly point to make, but he didn't regret it for one second.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

Mitoc

The heavy door ground open and receded into the wall revealing two well equipped guards on the other side. The stepped into the cell and levelled their rifles at the sole occupant, former Squadron Leader Ari'shan who gathered himself, adjusted his uniform which now bore no rank or unit markings having being stripped of them, and stood to attention.

The officer had refused to fire on civilian ships at Krish, considering such an action dishonourable and had refused a direct order from Warmaster Sha'dur in the process. He had been arrested, thrown in prison and was probably going to be executed. When word came through that he was to be transferred to Warmaster Jha'dur's command it was greeted across the fleet with cold trepidation. Even new recruits knew what happened to prisoners who were on the receiving end of Deathwalker's personal attentions.

He was bundled onto a shuttle and made the single jump across to Mitoc, there he was thrown onto the flagships brig and waited there two full days without word and with just one meal. He had time to reflect on his decision, sacrificing his life to maintain his honour instead of sacrificing honour to save his life. He did not feel sorry for himself, and while he did consider he was a better asset to the war effort alive he had his convictions drilled into him by his Father and he would not betray them no matter the price.

The Warmaster strode into the room, her face completely neutral. Ari'shan stood to full attention which she regarded with clinical distaste, like he had no business pretending he was a soldier after his conduct. Her gaze had the ability to make Ari'shan feel an inch tall and totally insecure. He did suddenly feel like a young child who wore the uniform but had no idea what went with it. He had to force himself to remember he had his honour.

"Guards." She said. "Leave."

"With respect Ma'am, it is against regulations to allow a prisoner and…"

She didn't have to say a word, one glare was enough to shut up the guard, make him salute, and then get out of the room at double quick time. Quietly she returned her inscrutable expression back to Ari'shan.

"Warmaster, I apologise for this difficult situation."

Jha'dur did not answer. She stared at Ari'shan for a few seconds then with remarkable speed threw back her fist and struck the pilot with a surprisingly vicious punch. He stumbled back and hit the wall in utter surprise and could do nothing to stop the three follow up punches the female Warmaster hit him with. He was hunched over against the wall too surprised to actually register the hurt, and slowly brought himself up. Jha'dur had stepped back and wore the same impassive face she usually adopted on official business.

"Are you aware," she started completely matter of factly as if lecturing a group of recruits, "of how unbelievably stupid you are?"

"I am aware that my actions do not help my sense of self preservation Ma'am." Ari'shan said through his teeth. Jha'dur could really punch above her weight, he guessed it was pent up anger seeping through.

"And how do they help discipline across the fleet?" She asked. "You ar elucky that was a scrambled channel, only your squadron and my Brother's command staff know about this. And your Father of course."

That shook his resolve a little more. "What did he say?"

"You can ask him yourself, he'll be here in a few hours." She said. "But he is not coming for you, he is coming to see this world. You, prisoner, are my responsibility."

Ari'shan had managed to straighten himself up and could now face the Warmaster, staring straight ahead rather than look at her directly. She remained standing in a relaxed pose, but there was something in her eyes which betrayed how incredibly angry she was.

"This is war prisoner." She said. "One does not pick and choose the orders one is given. Do you understand the concept?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"You wear the uniform of a Dilgar officer, and are therefore bound to the rules and regulations of that post. Do you understand that concept?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Infractions damage discipline and must be punished as an example to others. Do you understand the Concept?"

"Yes Warmaster." Ari'shan said again.

"Damn you to hell for putting me in this position." She snarled. "I promised your Father I would keep you alive, and now you disobey a direct order and put yourself on death row!"

"It was my choice to make Warmaster, you do not need to blame yourself."

"Yes I do, because it was my choice to approve you for frontline duty!" She snapped. "I gave you a squadron because I thought you were an outstanding officer, now look at yourself! In jail like a common coward!"

"I am no coward!" Ari'shan snapped back.

"You failed to execute an order to attack!"

"I refused to kill people who could not defend themselves!"

"They are enemies of the Dilgar Imperium!"

"They are frightened women and children who's deaths mean nothing to the military success of this war!"

to his surprise Jha'dur actually burst out in laughter. "Gods you're naïve!" she said through the inappropriate joviality. "You see our enemies as anyone who bears a weapon against us? What about the populations who arm the fighters and build the ships? What about the children who become soldiers in the future to counter attack us when we grow decadent and weak? Every single being who is not of Omelos is our enemy. All of them. It is the one true piece of knowledge you need to do the things a Warmaster has to do."

Ari'shan considered that idea. "Then I am glad I am not a Warmaster."

"Your Father the Supreme Warmaster understands this." Jha'dur said quietly. "He knows that for us to live the League has to die."

"My Father is a great man, but I am my own man." He replied firmly. "I stand by my own actions and take responsibility for them."

"You will have to realise that the only thing that matters is our people." Jha'dur spoke softly. "And if our survival means billions must pay in blood for it, then so be it. Do you think I enjoy wiping out entire worlds?"

"Yes, I actually think you do."

Much to his surprise Jha'dur seemed shocked by the answer, almost as if she had taken a crowbar to the head. "I do what I do for my people, not for myself!" she defended.

"That isn't what it looks like from outside." Ari'shan stated. "You know you're reputation in the fleet? That you take any opportunity to experiment on captives rather than just execute them."

"That is for my research." She stated. "Why waste a life when I can learn something from it? They are dead either way, so I simply give their deaths meaning."

"I don't want to argue." Ari'shan sighed. "I've known you ten years, but I don't ask for any special treatment. Let's just get this over with."

Jha'dur nodded. "As you wish. Extend your hand, palm up."

He held out his right hand and stiffened, braced for the incapacitating injection he expected. The Warmaster grabbed his hand and pressed something into it, breaking the skin with a needle like punch. Then she stepped away and Ari'shan risked a look down. He actually gasped in surprise. "I don't understand?"

In his hand were his pilot's wings. The pin badge had been pressed into his hand hard enough to draw blood but not do any real damage. The gold bars and triangles glinted back at him silently.

"I am reinstating you." The Warmaster replied. "Close your mouth, it is conduct unbecoming an officer. Something I will not tolerate from you."

"I…I don't understand?"

She smiled thinly. "You are many things Ari, but first of all you are a pilot. Specifically you are the best pilot in this navy, I have fought alongside the best and from what I have seen you have a natural ability that even veterans cannot match. That is an asset that is not easily thrown away, and that is why you are still alive."

"Jha'dur, I want to than…"

She cut him off with a hand wave. "Don't you dare thank me." She said curtly. "You are alive because you are useful, not because of our family friendship. You are on my watch now pilot, you will fly from this ship and answer directly to me. If you pull anything even slightly insubordinate you will not enjoy the consequences. Are we clear?"

"As crystal Warmaster."

"Refuse my order and die a thousand deaths. Simple as that." She said. Then without a word turned and walked out of the cell, leaving the door open behind her.

Ari'shan was surprised to say the least, but he was also aware of an opportunity when he saw it. This was a second chance, something rare in any aspect of life. Whatever she had said he knew at least part of her choice came down to the almost brother/sister relationship they had, and it had explained her burst of anger at the start of the talk. Any other pilot she would not have cared, even if she had given him a second chance based on skill alone it would have been with a simple written order and with no personal contact.

She cared for him, and that affection had driven her to an emotional response when he had put himself in this position. He guessed she must have taken steps to save him from further action in the military courts and to erase any evidence of wrongdoing, and thereby make her an accomplice to the act which could seriously damage her political career if it ever came out. She had made a sacrifice for him, and he felt a little humbled.

But he also saw something else in her orders, Jha'dur's fleet lead the way in battle and was lined up to engage the heaviest concentrations of future enemies. He would never have to worry again about being ordred to fire on defenceless ships, there was going to be an almost ever lasting supply of well armed and increasingly well trained enemies for him to fight in honourable combat.

The more he looked at it the more he realised Jha'dur had not just saved his life, but put him in the position he dreamed about. He was going to be at the front of the Dilgar advance, and if rumour was to be believed their next target was the Cascor Commonwealth. The Cascor were the best pilots in the League with well trained and well equipped star fighter units, who also tended to share Ari'shan's view that the best form of combat was to sit alone in a fighter and challenge opponents to combat. He had a feeling he was going to be eternally grateful to Jha'dur for more than one reason. Circles turning within circles, plans within plans. He should have expected that from her, she never did anything unless she knew exactly what the results would be for her and the Dilgar at large.

Mitoc

Later that day

Jha'dur was buffeted in the chair, banging her head for the hundredth time on the headrest as the restraints dig a little deeper into her shoulder with each bump. It was not the most comfortable shuttle journey she had been on but her personal pilot had argued very convincingly that while Mitoc had surrendered they still had a standing security force with ground to air weapons. The sight of the most hated figure in the galaxy coasting down in just a shuttle might prove too tempting to them to resist, so instead they were plummeting through the atmosphere at high speed to present as fleeting a target as possible.

She held her temper and watched the clouds rush past outside the window, four other shuttles were coming down with her filled with Storm troopers to provide a cordon when she landed, and until then to provide physical cover for her ship by offering themselves as a target if the Mitoc decided to take a shot at her. They would have to destroy all five shuttles to be sure of killing her, and by the time the first was hit Captain An'jash had orders to turn the nearest continent into a radioactive wasteland.

The rocking stopped as the shuttle entered the lower atmosphere and began to slow down, forcing Jha'dur tighter against the seat belts as the craft fired breaking thrusters and dropped its landing gear, then dropped the last few feet and planted itself onto the landing zone, an open green field just outside the Mitoc capital city.

"Good landing officer." Jha'dur said sincerely, a few seconds error and they would have hit the ground at supersonic speeds. "Keep the engines warm incase we need to make a rapid exit."

The pilot nodded and brought the shuttle to standby mode, making sure all it's systems including weapons were active. She missed her old shuttle, one that had been stolen by Humans escaping from Tirrith. She had been furious at first, but now considered it wryly amusing.

The meeting place was chosen carefully, it was far from any military facilities and the danger they represented but close enough to the city to make sure any attempt to kill the Warmaster could result in collateral damage to the civilian refugees who had gathered in and around the Capital. The wide open space also meant ambush was unlikely and gave the hundred soldiers of Jha'dur's escort ample space to deploy and offered a nice wide field of fire with no cover for an enemy attack.

But the main reason, the one Jha'dur had not mentioned, was that the landing zone was on grass not metal or manufactured concrete or asphalt. She wanted her first step onto this world, the first step any Dilgar took, to be touching the planet itself, not a Mitoc structure. It was illogical, and it didn't really make a difference to the political situation but it did make a difference to Jha'dur. She wanted this world to remain a paradise, an untouched ecological Eden that would not be polluted by industries of war or ravaged by internal Dilgar fighting. They had secured plenty of worlds which could become factories and forges once their native inhabitants were relocated, preferably to the afterlife, and this planet could be kept untouched.

The simple fact was they were going to be lucky to save a quarter of the Dilgar population, a third at most, which while tragic did mean that this world wasn't going to suffer from over population like Omelos did. The best and brightest of the race would come here, a brave new world at the heart of a safe and secure Empire created by the Warmasters. Well, the three or four of them who actually knew how to fight a war anyway. Beside herself, her brother and the Supreme Warmaster the only other leader Jha'dur trusted was Warmaster Dar'sen who was currently commanding the only decent fleet on the Drazi front. He was twice Jha'dur's age but an old friend of Gar'shan and had embraced the young woman's radical shake up of the Dilgar Navy, something a lot of people still opposed. He was an ally in an increasingly polarized council.

The boarding tamp dropped open, digging into the soft ground below and letting pure sunshine into the shuttle. She paused at the threshold and rejoiced in the gentle warmth of that light as it fell upon her and took a breath of the clean air. After so long on a ship any planet fall tended to be special, but this more than others. She already felt like this was home. She noticed a delegation of leaders stood a respectful distance away waiting for her, but did not rush to join them. She wasn't going to cut short this moment for anything.

Slowly she stepped off the ramp and onto the grass, feeling the ground shift a little beneath her weight. She had actually considered doing this bare foot before the military leader inside told her to remember her place. She took a few steps forward, pleased that her boots made nothing more than muffled thuds as she moved as opposed to the more familiar clank made on the metal deck plates of her ship. She took the full experience in, gathered herself, and then waved her guards out.

Jha'dur had been very specific about being the first Dilgar on the planet, and while her body guards did not like the idea they did not push the issue and simply waited in the shuttle. With the signal given the four Spectres marched out in plain view wearing simple black uniforms and cradling their long rifles in their arms. At the same moment four other Spectres hidden beneath their black light stealth suits also filed out and moved quickly to dispersed positions and activated their sniper rifles, watching for threats. The remaining shuttles then dropped their ramps and disembarked twentyfive officers and soldiers each all in ceremonial uniforms. Despite the rich green cloth and highly polished belts and boots these were well trained and well armed soldiers and they kept a cautious watch on the perimeter and the Mitoc delegation.

Jha'dur went to meet them, again rather pleased by the feel of the grass under her boots. The delegation included the Mitoc Regent and senior government and Military officers, about a dozen in all who started walking forward to meet her half way. They were dressed in restrictive clothing which amused Jha'dur somewhat, it was some strange cosmic joke that all races tended to make their formal wear as uncomfortable as it was ostentatious.

Of course she couldn't make any comment, she was also wrapped in a uniform which cost as much as a small house. It had the familiar dark blue colour of the fleet division with red facings, along with the pale blue fronting used on officers dress uniforms. In addition to the gold braid and heavily gilded epaulettes she also carried her ceremonial sword and side arm, gold plated, jewel encrusted but still fully functional. She had left her last sword on Rohric as a mark of respect for one of the planets savages, a chieftain of his people. She had considered the term savage to be inappropriate, and paid her respects to his attempt to eject the Dilgar from his homelands, doomed as it was.

She rather enjoyed wearing dress uniform, and as a Warmaster often found herself having to do so. The standard duty uniform for a fleet officer was a simple dark blue tunic with fabric badges of rank and division for most personnel, with metal badges only worn on special occasions or for special reasons. Jha'dur on the other hand tended to wear full regalia whenever she could, she found it worked to announce her authority far better than words could, which then meant she didn't have to waste effort imposing herself on subordinates and could concentrate on winning wars. It also naturally enough had the effect of intimidating opponents, which she was working on right now.

"Warmaster Jha'dur." The leading Mitoc bowed. He was a normal looking humanoid about six inches shorter than the Warmaster. As a rule the Mitoc were a fairly small race and stood below the average height of most other sentient species, shorter even than Drazi. He wore a Brown coat of glimmering material which certainly seemed to fit his station, it must have cost a fortune. "I am Regent Kerra."

"Regent." Jha'dur nodded. "Your world is unanimous in support of your decision?"

"It is." He stated. "Mitoc hereby surrenders unconditionally to the Dilgar Imperium."

She grinned widely. "And I accept."

Jha'dur had managed to stage a clever political game, by putting herself on Mitoc and taking the surrender she had put herself at the head of the Imperium, at least that is how she expected the Media to see it. The Mitoc had surrender to her in person and singularly, there were no other Dilgar leaders with her and she stood alone on this alien world and had them bowing to her. Legally it meant nothing, but politically it would help strengthen her position in the council and give her a lot of authority. Already the Media loved her, she won battles and gave her people glory which kept the public happy and distracted them from the crippling taxes and massive pollution gripping Omelos necessary to feed the war effort. People associated her with victory and now they saw beaten leaders bowing to her alone. With public support like that it would make her ascension to Supreme Warmaster that much easier despite Warmaster Len'char's own vain ambitions. The head of Intelligence also coveted leadership of the Imperium and had made subtle efforts to sabotage Jha'dur's success to help him, but she was too wily to fall for his rather clumsy political moves and counter moves.

The delegation bowed to her again, she could sense they were scared of her and uncertain what would happen next. Her plans for Mitoc were naturally top secret and no one outside the Council knew of them.

"You may rise." She commanded. "You may also continue to serve in your current roles. You know this world and people better than my staff, therefore you will lead them, keep them in line and carry out the wishes of the Imperium. I will appoint a Planetary governor to oversee the development of this world into something that services the Dilgar and you will do all in your power to help. In return you may live and continue with your existence under our leadership."

Regent Kerra nodded in agreement.

"Also I understand you have a palace in this city?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"I will be requiring it, I have guests arriving and need an appropriate venue for them. Arrange for a meeting hall to be prepared with tables and chairs then vacate all staff from the building. That will be all."

He bowed. "It will be so."

"Good." She dismissed him. "This is concluded, make the arrangements. In future you will liase with the Governor."

She turned and headed back to the shuttle, turning to one of her Spectres.

"What did we bring to eat?"

Regent's Palace

Dilgar occupied Mitoc.

Jha'dur's guests were more eminent than the Mitoc leadership had expected. The task force arrived in orbit the following day, a group of Dreadnoughts backed up by a large number of powerful escorts and fighter squadrons fresh from Omelos. On board those ships were four of the nine members of the Warmaster Council, coming up to five when Jha'dur was included, and lead in person by the Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan. It had been a while since he had travelled this far and while still only in his sixties he had the frailty of a man in extreme old age. The stresses of the office often killed Supreme Warmasters early and a disturbing number died in office, and usually not of natural causes. Gar'shan's mind however remained sharp and he was a skilled political mover. He was also a former head of Intelligence with a much better record than his successor and the old leader was still more than capable of keeping his people on their path.

The series of armed shuttles landed in the courtyard under heavy fighter escort and were met by hundreds of pristinely uniformed soldiers lining the way into the Palace itself. The grounds were heavily fortified with anti infantry, anti tank and anti aircraft weaponry while Jha'dur's fleet was holding station in the system in case of a general attack by some disaffected League power. It was as safe as she could make it, and while she wouldn't care if most of the council did die she wouldn't want it to happen on her watch.

Mars  
Earth Alliance territory.

Considering space was so vast, so infinite and so empty Captain Paul Calendar found it hard to imagine how it could ever be considered cramped. It had no end and no limits so that should mean there was plenty of room in all three dimensions for uncounted billions of starships. While this seemed logical to him the concept had apparently escaped the flight controllers at Mars and something which looked a lot like a traffic jam had sprung up over Mars.  
When Paul looked at it from another point of view it did make sense. While space was unlimited the number of docking berths orbiting Mars were not. The problem was compounded by the fact that most of the main routes into Mars were currently closed to civilian traffic thanks to several hundred military vessels deciding this was the perfect opportunity to hold the biggest war game event to date. That had naturally forced all the traffic into just a handful of routes and left a lot of cargo stations within the exclusion zone kept busy transferring troops and tanks from the army bases on planet to the ships in orbit, which were then sent back down to the planet in a mock invasion.  
The games were almost over, but a little bit of poor planning had meant the _Space Race_ had finished it's latest job a few days early and instead of arriving when everything had returned to normal they had left the gate and immediately found themselves in a holding pattern waiting for entry to Mars Station Prime. That had been fourteen hours ago.

"They were playing this exercise when we left." Toby complained. "That was two weeks ago! How long does a war take?"  
"Makes sense they'd get some shipside training." Jors replied. "Dangerous galaxy we live in."  
"But two weeks?" Toby shook his head in exasperation. "I mean can you imagine how much that costs?"  
"Cheaper than letting a Dilgar fleet cross the border." Paul cut in. "How far back are we now?"  
"You've been asking that every four minutes for the last six hours chief." Toby grunted.  
"I'm the Captain, humour me."  
Toby sat up with a sigh and checked the sensor logs, reading the Belt Alliance cargo drop of point hundreds of miles away and the ships ahead. "There are two hundred and eight ships ahead of us." He offered in a bored tone. "At least another ten hours even if every dock is at full capacity."  
"At least we don't have to worry about raiders." Jor's said brightly. "Not with two full Earth Force fleets in spitting distance."  
"Oh, that makes me feel so much better!" Toby said through his teeth, the statement was bathed in sarcasm. "Think it would help if we told them we have friends in high places?"  
"No." Paul said firmly. "It really wouldn't."

The little freighter and her crew did have some powerful patrons in the Earth Alliance establishment, their activities in the past had saved lives and gathered some important information on the Dilgar Navy though it had come at a high cost. After losing a crew member killed and another revealed as an undercover agent for the EIA Paul was understandably bitter at the whole experience and had developed a loathing for the Dilgar as a race. That had been further compounded when he had found himself caught up on the frontlines a fourth time at Brakir while acting as an advisor to the Belt Alliance organisation delivering weapons to the Brakiri at exactly the wrong moment.  
He hadn't expected quite so many near death experiences in his chosen career, he was surprised to learn he had lead a more dangerous life than his EIA crew mate Jenny Sakai. She had remarked her life had been easy until she had joined the _Space Race_ crew and now she was fending off almost certain death on a weekly basis. Still Paul had survived and had become a very wealthy and somewhat famous man in the process. His ship had been repaired by the Belt Alliance and the EIA in a mark of gratitude and they had turned his little freighter into a well armed, well protected and very fast little vessel that was almost completely illegal under Earth law. His contacts had made sure nobody paid much attention to the little ship.  
Since then he'd gone back to his day job delivering perishable cargo quickly across Earth and near alien space, and while he was once again turning a profit he did think there was something missing, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Are you awake Captain?" Toby's voice snapped his attention back to the present.  
"Huh?" Paul grunted.  
"I said for the third time, we're being hailed."  
"By who?"  
"It's an Earth Force channel, military ship." Toby said. "A cruiser from inside the exclusion zone."  
Jors and Paul exchanged glances, even if their ship was authorised by the EIA there was no way every ship in Earth Force had simply been told by the Director to just ignore the little plain looking freighter. If they impounded the ship Paul was confident he'd get it back with some help from above, but for every day the ship was out of action he risked losing thousands of credits.  
"What do the want from us?" Jors asked.  
Toby frowned. "They want to escort us to one of the stations in the exclusion zone. They say a friend has offered us passage and cleared us to use one of the docks." The young man smiled. "Guess it beats waiting hours."  
"Maybe." Paul said. "Depends what they expect in return."  
"Do you think they want us to do something?" Jors asked. "Probably something dangerous?"  
Paul shrugged. "We don't have to say yes. Toby, answer the signal, tell them they have our thanks and we accept the berth. Jors, let's go deliver our shipment and see what happens next."  
The pilot flicked a few switches, powered the engines up, and then turned the nose to follow the course the military ship had designated.  
"I'll bet you this," Jors wagged his finger. "Fifty credits say's it involves the Dilgar and nearly getting our butts shot off."

The _Race_ took a leisurely course through Mars orbit passing by scores of ships without any trouble or a second glance from the military units choking space. The games were more or less over in orbit with the final stages now taking place on the planet below as troops and tanks skirted around the red sands far below. The ships above were now mostly refuelling and rearming before they dispersed and returned to their stations scattered across Alliance space. Starfuries seemed to be darting back and forth between the monolithic slabs Earth Force insisted in making its ships look like and seemed to be maintaining their readiness by sparring with each other. Paul noticed one squadron had adopted the now infamous inverted 'V' the Dilgar used as their main deployment and was being engaged by a looser formation of brightly coloured fighters.  
"Clearance confirmed." Toby said. "We have space in bay Nine."  
Jors altered course without prompting, taking the ship towards a large ring type station surrounded on it's outer surface with mesh cages large enough for most freighters to dock within. Most were currently occupied by dull looking Earth Force ships and light freighters while bigger fleet tenders that were almost the size of the station itself hung in space close by ferrying cargo back and forth in shuttles.  
"Docking clamps ready." Jors said as he let the flight computer make the final course adjustments.  
"Get ready for the gravity." Paul said. When they clamped to the outer edge of the station they would benefit from it's centripedal effects giving them simulated gravity slightly over one G. "And this time make sure you didn't leave the coffee floating around!"  
The _Race_ entered the cage and grabbed onto the docking rails on the spinward side, the ship rocked a little as it was caught in the motion and Jors shut down the engines, leaving the ship secure. Almost as soon as they shut down engines the bay's cranes were silently unfurling like mandibles to separate the ship from it's cargo. The station also had to adjust itself slightly to compensate for the extra mass now on its hull, moving the axis of its spin slightly in the opposite direction to the _Race_.  
"Pop the seals on the cargo pods." Paul said and hoisted himself from his chair, getting used to the feeling of weight on his joints again. "Then we better get some food and see who we have to thank for this."  
He stretched and then left for the ladder that would lead up to the docking tubes and access to the station itself.

Inside the place was filled with Naval supply officers and crewmembers busily shifting boxes too and fro between the loading bays and the storage rooms. The civilian crew picked their way through the organised chaos avoiding the main promenades and looked for a quiet corner, sure enough someone had cleared a space for them at one of the food stations which seemed to do so well on these orbital facilities, often giving crews their first taste of real cooked food in months.  
The person who had cleared the table was waiting for them, three plates full of warm food set up in preparation. None of them were actually surprised to see the face that greeted them.  
"Morning Jenny." Paul smiled as she stood to welcome them.  
"Hi Paul, good to see you." She nodded with genuine warmth. "Jors, Toby, good to see you all healthy. Take a seat, I ordered you some dinner."  
They sat at the table and eagerly began to eat, Jenny joining them with an amused smile. "How's Markab?"  
"Quiet." Toby said. "The Markab don't talk to off worlders much. Keep to themselves."  
"Very Religious people." Paul commented. "They're suspicious of outsiders, they don't know where we fit into their beliefs."  
"Seem friendly enough to me." Jors added. "Paid well for those, what were they? Holy stones?"  
Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Holy stones?"  
"Don't even start with that." Paul shook his head. "I got no idea, each to their own."

Toby paused between mouthfuls long enough to talk. "Been keeping busy?"  
Jenny took a moment to respond, and Paul could see a little flicker behind her eyes before she spoke. "It's been a long month."  
"Secret agent stuff huh?" Toby grinned. "If you told us you'd have to kill us?"  
"Something like that." It was very subtle but Paul could sense some unease in the woman, he'd been around her enough to spot these tiny little changes in posture and expression which she hardly ever let slip through. He guessed her guard was down among friends.  
"We were wondering." Paul moved on. "Did you perhaps ask us here because you had a job for us?"  
She chuckled softly. "My oh so simple ruse didn't confuse you then?"  
"And does it involve the Dilgar?"  
Jenny nodded quietly. "Sort of. But don't dismiss it before you hear me out."  
At the other end of the table Toby handed over some money to a grinning Jors.  
"I'm listening." Paul said and put his knife and fork down giving Jenny his full attention.  
"Well the bottom line is we want you to do a little spying for us." Jenny said. "On the Dilgar."  
"I don't see how." Paul considered. "We aren't undercover agents, and I'd guess you have plenty of your own people for that sort of thing."  
"That's right, you wouldn't have to leave your ship." Jenny nodded. "We want you to take a couple of flyby's in Dilgar space and gather some sensor readings on how things are in Dilgar occupied space."  
"I see." Paul nodded.  
"Your ship is a small freighter, it won't stand out and we know from long range scans that those systems are full of civilian ships, Dilgar ones anyway, shifting cargo for their war effort."  
"I'm all for helping mess up the Dilgar's little war." Paul answered. "But we can't do this. The moment we went through the gate we'd be scanned, locked and toasted by the guard ships."

"We thought about that." Jenny continued. "And you won't be using the gate."  
"The _Race _is too small for it's own jump engine." Jor's spoke up. "Even with it's upgrades it's about a fifth the size it'd need to be."  
"The _Race _is yeah." Jenny said. "But you wouldn't be going in alone, you'd have back up."  
"Back up?" Paul perked up.  
"A jump capable ship." Jenny smiled. "An Earth Force cruiser run by my people at the EIA, all professionals, all very well trained and under the authority of a good friend of mine called Vic Chapel."  
"A cruiser!" Toby brightened up. "Now you're talking!"  
"So you're going to let us in and out of the system." Paul thought out loud. "We check out the area because you're ship would draw too much attention, and if we hit trouble you come in all guns blazing?"  
"That's right." Jenny nodded. "Well, there is a catch."  
"A catch?" Toby paused.  
"Yeah, well the EIA has been trying to get a Jump capable ship for it's own operations for years. Naval intelligence has a few but we've always been bottom of the priority list." Jenny explained. "But last month we caught a good deal and managed to get a ship." Jenny took a breath, working out how best to proceed. "But even with the military budget increasing and new ships rolling out from the ship yards all the new build ships are going to the front line fleets."  
Toby and Jors looked a little disappointed, so Paul stepped in.  
"Well that makes sense, I mean we weren't expecting you to have a _Nova_ we're we?"  
"We weren't?" Toby seemed disappointed.  
"No, we weren't." Paul confirmed. "Or even those new _Hecate's_. a _Hyperion_ is just fine."  
"Well the thing is, we didn't get one." Jenny shrugged apologetically.  
"So they gave you a Carrier then?" Jors suggested. "That would make sense as a base ship."  
"Not a carrier." She grimaced. "In fact it should be visible out of these windows." She pointed to the wide viewports beside them slowly showing the starfields and Mars rotating outside.

As one the three civilian crewers pushed up against the glass and took a moment to orientate themselves, the spinning motion of the station was barely noticeable inside, but for many people looking out at the stars and planets looping around and around could prove very queasy. Mars was visible in the near distance and a hint of Phobos just beyond, otherwise the area was quite empty with most of the naval vessels from the exercise deployed toward deep space on the far side of the station. All except for one ship.  
The vessel hove silently into view, marked in the traditional blue and pale grey, of the original Earth fleets. The paint scheme was somewhat anachronistic, a throw back to a more optimistic time when Earth vessels were painty and lit with dozens of running lights gaudily exploring the space lanes. The more recent human ships had taken a turn for the drab, with most new built ships wearing dark grey, even the _Hyperions_ that still carried blue colours tended to be toned down and darker than their first generation sisters. This ship looked dark, but the main reason for that was apparently wear and surface pitting to the hull that hadn't been repaired or covered over.  
"You're kidding." Toby gasped. "That's our back up?"  
The ship's structure was classic Earth Force, long, slender, blocky and with a hefty but inefficient engine block dominating the back of the ship. It had support braces near the bow and a modest hangar bay at the front. Paul and his people recognized it as an _Oracle_ class cruiser, certainly not what they would have called a front line warship or feel particularly happy trusting their lives to.

"Well, looks a little," Jors searched for the word. "Crappy."  
"That thing's gotta be fifty years old!" Toby added incredulously.  
"Just over Seventy actually." Jenny commented calmly as if it would help. "The _Delphi_, one of humanity's first jump capable ships."  
"Did you raid the Earth Force Museum?" Toby snapped.  
"No need, she was still in service." The agent answered. "Earth Force has been using these old girls as ELINT ships, taking care of ECM and combat communications for the smaller ships that don't have the latest sensor systems and jamming systems. One of these outfitted right can jam an entire fleet, which is a pretty handy trick, for our purposes far better than a stack of cannons."  
"I vote guns." Toby remained steadfast. "Solves a lot of problems."  
"The _Delphi_ is well armed for her role." Jenny assured. "She's packing a few surprises, or at least she will when the techs are finished with her. For now they're upgrading her sensor package to the best standard we can."  
"No way is that thing going to make it to League space." Toby stated with certainty. "I'm shocked it got to Mars!"  
"She's a spy ship." Paul cut in. "I'm guessing it's a disguise, just like the modifications to my ship?"  
Jenny smiled. "Bingo. We didn't clean her up but we've already changed her jump engines and main drives. Over the next few months she'll be brand new inside but still look like no threat on the outside. Just the way we like it."  
"And with your sensors you can stand off outside a system, intercept communications, get sensor readings and the Dilgar are none the wiser." Paul nodded. "But there must be a limit otherwise we wouldn't be talking."  
"Active sensors." Jenny confirmed. "The only way to get accurate data from long range is to go active, but that gives us away to any ship in the area. No spy likes having their cover blown."  
"So you use us to go in, blend in with the other faceless freighters, the report back to your ship and scoot?" Paul figured.  
"That would be the plan." Jenny said. "And the place would be Krish. The Dilgar hit it just recently."  
"At least we don't have to travel as far, the Dilgar are coming to us." Paul grimaced.  
"Wait," Toby looked to his Captain. "You aren't seriously considering this!"  
"Five million." Jenny said. "My employers feel this is an important mission."  
"And I feel like I want to keep breathing!" Toby retorted. "Come on chief, you know this never ends well!"  
"You're going to back us all the way?" Paul asked.  
"To the hilt." Answered Jenny.  
"Captain!"  
"You got guns on that thing?" Paul continued.  
"Some." She said. "Our best weapon will be the jammers, and the best squadron of Fury pilots in the Force."  
"And this mission, it'll hurt the Dilgar?"  
"Yes." She answered. "Anything we learn we can use to help us prepare for the day they show up on our border. We all know what will happen then."  
"Then you have a deal." Captain Calendar nodded. "We can be fuelled up in four hours."  
"Excellent." She smiled widely. "I'll be ready too."  
"You're coming with us?" Toby asked.  
"Sure." Jenny nodded. "I was going to travel on the _Delphi_, but I was also kind of hoping my old seat on the _Race_ was available?"

The last time she had joined them on the bridge of the _Space Race_ she had been lying to them, acting like a simple crew member rather than the EIA agent she truly was, and she had manipulated the crew into heading towards danger shortly before the Dilgar attacked. Her mission was to gain intelligence on the Dilgar, and while she meant no harm to the crew the Dilgar advance was so totally devastating they had barely survived. One of them hadn't.  
Paul would be lying if he said he didn't blame her for that. But he blamed the Dilgar more, and after seeing first hand what they did to people he would be happy to take the opportunity to give T'Koth a little justice and get back at the people who killed him.  
"You familiar with our new weapon systems?" Paul asked.  
"Course I am." She smiled. "I arranged them for you."  
"Then I don't see a problem. We'll need to pick up our special cargo pods, you know the ones."  
"I remember." She winked. "Okay, I guess I'll see in four hours, then we can set off together. Just like old times."  
"Does that include those times when we were running for our life?" Toby chirped in.  
Jenny answered with a wide smile and a flick of her dark hair. "See you soon guys." Then she headed through the pack of Earth Force personnel who gave her plenty of space and more than a view admiring glances as she made for the docking ring.

"You can only push our luck so far Chief." Jors commented when Jenny had vanished.  
"We don't need luck with the weapons we're packing." Paul answered flatly. "You worry too much. We can outrun anything we can't kill."  
"We can't take on the Dilgar Navy single handed, and that rust heap out there won't help much even if it is packed with surprises!" Toby added.  
"You don't have to come." Paul turned to them. "Stay here, I can fly the _Race_ alone and Jenny can cover weapons. Take a seat and order some more food, get a room, maybe take in a game or two!"  
"Captain…" Jors began.  
"I'm doing this!" Paul hissed. "Not for the money, but because I have to do it, somebody has to stand up to the Dilgar and if nobody else wants the job I'll do it. Jenny too."  
"Plenty of people stand up to the Dilgar." Jors added. "They just don't stay standing for long."  
"You coming or not?" Paul demanded. "Because we're just wasting time now!"  
"Course we're coming Chief." Toby answered a little hurt. "You just need to stop taking anything with the Dilgar so personally."  
"It is personal." Paul huffed. "They made it personal."  
"You know Captain," Jors spoke quietly. "One day you might not come back from a mission like this."  
"Maybe, but if it hurts the Dilgar that's fine by me."  
"Pretty harsh words Chief." Toby pointed out.  
"Harsh times." Paul sighed. "But come on, with our new toys we've got this in the bag, easy money."  
Jors did smile faintly. "He's right, even if we do get spotted we're in a great little ship."  
"The best." Toby acknowledged. "Fine, I'm in, but if you get us all killed I'm going to haunt you forever."  
"Sounds fair." Paul chuckled. "Eat up, we've got a little job to do and a bank account to fill."

Mitoc  
Later that day

Jha'dur was buffeted in the chair, banging her head for the hundredth time on the headrest as the restraints dig a little deeper into her shoulder with each bump. It was not the most comfortable shuttle journey she had been on but her personal pilot had argued very convincingly that while Mitoc had surrendered they still had a standing security force with ground to air weapons. The sight of the most hated figure in the galaxy coasting down in just a shuttle might prove too tempting to them to resist, so instead they were plummeting through the atmosphere at high speed to present as fleeting a target as possible.  
She held her temper and watched the clouds rush past outside the window, four other shuttles were coming down with her filled with Storm troopers to provide a cordon when she landed, and until then to provide physical cover for her ship by offering themselves as a target if the Mitoc decided to take a shot at her. They would have to destroy all five shuttles to be sure of killing her, and by the time the first was hit Captain An'jash had orders to turn the nearest continent into a radioactive wasteland.  
The rocking stopped as the shuttle entered the lower atmosphere and began to slow down, forcing Jha'dur tighter against the seat belts as the craft fired breaking thrusters and dropped its landing gear, then dropped the last few feet and planted itself onto the landing zone, an open green field just outside the Mitoc capital city.  
"Good landing officer." Jha'dur said sincerely, a few seconds error and they would have hit the ground at supersonic speeds. "Keep the engines warm incase we need to make a rapid exit."  
The pilot nodded and brought the shuttle to standby mode, making sure all it's systems including weapons were active. She missed her old shuttle, one that had been stolen by Humans escaping from Tirrith. She had been furious at first, but now considered it wryly amusing.

The meeting place was chosen carefully, it was far from any military facilities and the danger they represented but close enough to the city to make sure any attempt to kill the Warmaster could result in collateral damage to the civilian refugees who had gathered in and around the Capital. The wide open space also meant ambush was unlikely and gave the hundred soldiers of Jha'dur's escort ample space to deploy and offered a nice wide field of fire with no cover for an enemy attack.  
But the main reason, the one Jha'dur had not mentioned, was that the landing zone was on grass not metal or manufactured concrete or asphalt. She wanted her first step onto this world, the first step any Dilgar took, to be touching the planet itself, not a Mitoc structure. It was illogical, and it didn't really make a difference to the political situation but it did make a difference to Jha'dur. She wanted this world to remain a paradise, an untouched ecological Eden that would not be polluted by industries of war or ravaged by internal Dilgar fighting. They had secured plenty of worlds which could become factories and forges once their native inhabitants were relocated, preferably to the afterlife, and this planet could be kept untouched.  
The simple fact was they were going to be lucky to save a quarter of the Dilgar population, a third at most, which while tragic did mean that this world wasn't going to suffer from over population like Omelos did. The best and brightest of the race would come here, a brave new world at the heart of a safe and secure Empire created by the Warmasters. Well, the three or four of them who actually knew how to fight a war anyway. Beside herself, her brother and the Supreme Warmaster the only other leader Jha'dur trusted was Warmaster Dar'sen who was currently commanding the only decent fleet on the Drazi front. He was twice Jha'dur's age but an old friend of Gar'shan and had embraced the young woman's radical shake up of the Dilgar Navy, something a lot of people still opposed. He was an ally in an increasingly polarized council.

The boarding tamp dropped open, digging into the soft ground below and letting pure sunshine into the shuttle. She paused at the threshold and rejoiced in the gentle warmth of that light as it fell upon her and took a breath of the clean air. After so long on a ship any planet fall tended to be special, but this more than others. She already felt like this was home. She noticed a delegation of leaders stood a respectful distance away waiting for her, but did not rush to join them. She wasn't going to cut short this moment for anything.  
Slowly she stepped off the ramp and onto the grass, feeling the ground shift a little beneath her weight. She had actually considered doing this bare foot before the military leader inside told her to remember her place. She took a few steps forward, pleased that her boots made nothing more than muffled thuds as she moved as opposed to the more familiar clank made on the metal deck plates of her ship. She took the full experience in, gathered herself, and then waved her guards out.  
Jha'dur had been very specific about being the first Dilgar on the planet, and while her body guards did not like the idea they did not push the issue and simply waited in the shuttle. With the signal given the four Spectres marched out in plain view wearing simple black uniforms and cradling their long rifles in their arms. At the same moment four other Spectres hidden beneath their black light stealth suits also filed out and moved quickly to dispersed positions and activated their sniper rifles, watching for threats. The remaining shuttles then dropped their ramps and disembarked twentyfive officers and soldiers each all in ceremonial uniforms. Despite the rich green cloth and highly polished belts and boots these were well trained and well armed soldiers and they kept a cautious watch on the perimeter and the Mitoc delegation.

Jha'dur went to meet them, again rather pleased by the feel of the grass under her boots. The delegation included the Mitoc Regent and senior government and Military officers, about a dozen in all who started walking forward to meet her half way. They were dressed in restrictive clothing which amused Jha'dur somewhat, it was some strange cosmic joke that all races tended to make their formal wear as uncomfortable as it was ostentatious.  
Of course she couldn't make any comment, she was also wrapped in a uniform which cost as much as a small house. It had the familiar dark blue colour of the fleet division with red facings, along with the pale blue fronting used on officers dress uniforms. In addition to the gold braid and heavily gilded epaulettes she also carried her ceremonial sword and side arm, gold plated, jewel encrusted but still fully functional. She had left her last sword on Rohric as a mark of respect for one of the planets savages, a chieftain of his people. She had considered the term savage to be inappropriate, and paid her respects to his attempt to eject the Dilgar from his homelands, doomed as it was.  
She rather enjoyed wearing dress uniform, and as a Warmaster often found herself having to do so. The standard duty uniform for a fleet officer was a simple dark blue tunic with fabric badges of rank and division for most personnel, with metal badges only worn on special occasions or for special reasons. Jha'dur on the other hand tended to wear full regalia whenever she could, she found it worked to announce her authority far better than words could, which then meant she didn't have to waste effort imposing herself on subordinates and could concentrate on winning wars. It also naturally enough had the effect of intimidating opponents, which she was working on right now.

"Warmaster Jha'dur." The leading Mitoc bowed. He was a normal looking humanoid about six inches shorter than the Warmaster. As a rule the Mitoc were a fairly small race and stood below the average height of most other sentient species, shorter even than Drazi. He wore a Brown coat of glimmering material which certainly seemed to fit his station, it must have cost a fortune. "I am Regent Kerra."  
"Regent." Jha'dur nodded. "Your world is unanimous in support of your decision?"  
"It is." He stated. "Mitoc hereby surrenders unconditionally to the Dilgar Imperium."  
She grinned widely. "And I accept."  
Jha'dur had managed to stage a clever political game, by putting herself on Mitoc and taking the surrender she had put herself at the head of the Imperium, at least that is how she expected the Media to see it. The Mitoc had surrender to her in person and singularly, there were no other Dilgar leaders with her and she stood alone on this alien world and had them bowing to her. Legally it meant nothing, but politically it would help strengthen her position in the council and give her a lot of authority. Already the Media loved her, she won battles and gave her people glory which kept the public happy and distracted them from the crippling taxes and massive pollution gripping Omelos necessary to feed the war effort. People associated her with victory and now they saw beaten leaders bowing to her alone. With public support like that it would make her ascension to Supreme Warmaster that much easier despite Warmaster Len'char's own vain ambitions. The head of Intelligence also coveted leadership of the Imperium and had made subtle efforts to sabotage Jha'dur's success to help him, but she was too wily to fall for his rather clumsy political moves and counter moves.

The delegation bowed to her again, she could sense they were scared of her and uncertain what would happen next. Her plans for Mitoc were naturally top secret and no one outside the Council knew of them.  
"You may rise." She commanded. "You may also continue to serve in your current roles. You know this world and people better than my staff, therefore you will lead them, keep them in line and carry out the wishes of the Imperium. I will appoint a Planetary governor to oversee the development of this world into something that services the Dilgar and you will do all in your power to help. In return you may live and continue with your existence under our leadership."  
Regent Kerra nodded in agreement.  
"Also I understand you have a palace in this city?"  
"Yes Warmaster."  
"I will be requiring it, I have guests arriving and need an appropriate venue for them. Arrange for a meeting hall to be prepared with tables and chairs then vacate all staff from the building. That will be all."  
He bowed. "It will be so."  
"Good." She dismissed him. "This is concluded, make the arrangements. In future you will liase with the Governor."  
She turned and headed back to the shuttle, turning to one of her Spectres.  
"What did we bring to eat?"

Regent's Palace  
Dilgar occupied Mitoc.

Jha'dur's guests were more eminent than the Mitoc leadership had expected. The task force arrived in orbit the following day, a group of Dreadnoughts backed up by a large number of powerful escorts and fighter squadrons fresh from Omelos. On board those ships were four of the nine members of the Warmaster Council, coming up to five when Jha'dur was included, and led in person by the Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan. It had been a while since he had travelled this far and while still only in his sixties he had the frailty of a man in extreme old age. The stresses of the office often killed Supreme Warmasters early and a disturbing number died in office, and usually not of natural causes. Gar'shan's mind however remained sharp and he was a skilled political mover. He was also a former head of Intelligence with a much better record than his successor and the old leader was still more than capable of keeping his people on their path.  
The series of armed shuttles landed in the courtyard under heavy fighter escort and were met by hundreds of pristinely uniformed soldiers lining the way into the Palace itself. The grounds were heavily fortified with anti infantry, anti tank and anti aircraft weaponry while Jha'dur's fleet was holding station in the system in case of a general attack by some disaffected League power. It was as safe as she could make it, and while she wouldn't care if most of the council did die she wouldn't want it to happen on her watch.  
As the ramps to the shuttles dropped down the local commander shouted at his troops to stand to and present a general salute. The sound of boots stamping and energy rifles being hoisted was like thunder ringing out across the courtyard sending a shiver through Jha'dur's spine as she marched down the central path between the serried ranks. Somewhere behind the infantry formations a military band struck up the planetary anthem and waited for the Supreme Warmaster to make his entrance.

It took a few minutes longer than expected, but before long Gar'shan came striding out of his shuttle with a huge grin on his face. The old soldier moved with precise steps keeping his back as rigid as a veteran should. His blue uniform was even more heavily decorated than Jha'dur's and his ceremonial weapons shone in the light. As his foot left the ramp and touched the ground properly a signal was given and seconds later two wings of fighters roared past overhead paying respect to the father of the Imperium.  
He came to a stop before Jha'dur and she offered him a crisp salute which he returned perfectly.  
"Supreme Warmaster." She smiled. "On behalf of First Strike Fleet I present this planet to you."  
He suppressed a chuckle, Jha'dur had phrased that very carefully. She wasn't giving the planet to the government and the council in general, put to Gar'shan personally. It was a subtle reminder of where her true loyalties lay and one the older Warmaster was grateful for.  
"I accept this gift and news of your victory." He bowed his head. From behind him the other Warmasters approached having left their shuttles after Gar'shan had made planetfall. They may be trying to weaken him as Supreme Warmaster but they still had enough fear of him to observe protocol and let him lead them in public at least.  
"Welcome to Mitoc." Jha'dur addressed them simply. "I have prepared a room for us to convene in and spacious quarters for each of you."  
"Lead on Warmaster." Gar'shan spoke. "I trust you have laid on some refreshments?"  
"Of course." She bowed. "If you would all care to follow me."  
She turned on her heel and marched them between the honour guards and into the palace itself, all the time under the watchful guard of her elite Spectres. While technically the Spectres were a part of the Dilgar military hierarchy and would take orders from any senior officer, the truth was that their loyalties lay first and foremost with Jha'dur. They were her little pet project and the other Warmasters looked on them with suspicion.

"I am pleased you secured this place intact." Gar'shan looked around the vast hall. "It would have been a shame to destroy it outright."  
They left the courtyard behind and entered the now deserted building, only a small security presence stalked the edges of the room giving the leaders some privacy to discuss matters of state.  
"It is alien architecture." A snort came from the group. Jha'dur suppressed her initial reaction to draw her sidearm and simply stood silent as her rival Warmaster Len'char regarded the room distastefully. "It deserves to be levelled."  
"I am glad it wasn't." Gar'shan continued looking at the ornate carvings and reliefs of the wide walls. "You can learn much by the study of others and the creations they chose to represent their desires, thoughts and hopes." He looked to his student. "Don't you agree Jha'dur?"  
"Completely Supreme Warmaster." She nodded, having learned that lesson from Gar'shan long ago.  
Len'char grunted as if that answer was inevitable. "You would glorify the work of inferior races?"  
"Not glorify, simply understand." Jha'dur replied. "You should try it sometime, knowing your enemy is the key to victory."  
He locked her with a hard stare. "I know exactly who my enemies are, and where they stand."  
She smiled in response to the underlying implication in his words. "Well, there's a first time for everything."  
"Enough." Gar'shan demanded. "You are officers of the Imperium and we are at war with the League, not each other. Save your differences for when we are victorious."  
They both snapped salutes, Jha'dur's a world better than Len'char's sullen attempt. The head of intelligence had been an officer much longer than she had, but somewhere along the line he had recognized that Jha'dur was simply better at it than he was, and he had never forgiven her.  
"Warmaster Jha'dur, you will escort me to my chambers." Gar'shan ordered. "Everyone else can find their own way. Perhaps you will learn something as you walk the halls of this building." He laughed slightly. "Perhaps not. We convene in two hours."  
The small group watched them walk away, waiting until they were sure they were out of ear shot.  
"She already thinks she is in charge of us." Len'char snarled.  
"The public loves her." One of the others mentioned. "It is hard to discredit her when she keeps winning battles."  
"There are ways and means." Len'char answered. "Nobody is that lucky, she will make a mistake." He smiled thinly. "I'll make sure of it."

Jha'dur walked quietly with Gar'shan to his room, the former Regent's quarters, and stepped inside closing the door behind. Almost as soon as it clicked shut Gar'shan let out a huge sigh and visible drooped, seeming to shrink before Jha'dur's eyes. He quickly took off his belt and the heavy gilded jacket before slumping down into a rich but small chair.  
Jha'dur sat herself opposite him with a look of concern on her face. "How are you feeling?"  
"Exhausted." He replied. "Every day is like this, it is an effort simply to stand."  
"You seemed fine outside."  
"I cannot show weakness before the other Warmasters." He said sternly. "And certainly not before our people in general. The strong lead, and I must remain strong at the outside."  
Her brows knitted together with worry as she observed her mentor. "Is your physician following my instructions?"  
"He is." Gar'shan nodded. "Every morning I take that foul tasting cocktail you invented."  
She flickered a smile. "It is good for you, it should be building up your fortitude." She frowned. "Perhaps he is mixing it wrong."  
"My doctor is doing all he can." The old man waved. "But there are limits, and I feel I am approaching mine."  
The Warmaster shook her head. "Not while I live and breath. I promise you that."  
Gar'shan smiled, a rare moment of warmth from the man who's words had sent billions to death. "You can try and hide it, but you are still an idealist."  
She blinked, actually surprised. It was not a familiar feeling for her. "An Idealist?" she grinned. "I thought I cautioned against too much alcohol?"  
The older man returned the smile. "You are an idealist Jha'dur, you see the world as you think it should be. Not how it is. It has given you the vision and the will to do the impossible, but some things will always be beyond you." He closed his eyes slightly. "And the death of those closest to you is one of them."  
For a long time she said nothing, the silence hanging there in the room like mist. "What if that wasn't the case?"  
Gar'shan frowned. "It can't happen."  
"You know about my work, my final goal."  
"Immortality in a drug?" Gar'shan offered. "It is a great challenge, and if anyone could do it I am sure it would be you. But it is impossible."  
"Somebody once said winning a war on two fronts was impossible." Jha'dur replied. "Your predecessor. I remember you arranged for his early departure, and now we are fighting ten separate Empires and winning." She smiled intensely. "impossible is a word, an idea of the weak to console themselves in their inferiority. To our race nothing is beyond our grasp, and I will prove it."  
"Perhaps you are right." He nodded slowly. "But I wanted to talk about humans."

Jha'dur had expected this. Her plan to gather intelligence on Earth was still unknown to the council at large, only she, her brother and Gar'shan were aware of the mission and what it had yielded.  
"Spectre Dar'ro has successfully infiltrated the highest level of Earth government with the aide of his contact."  
"Who is this contact by the way?" Gar'shan asked. "He came from the Narn did he not?"  
"Correct." Jha'dur nodded. "He has kept his identity secret of course, but he reports in on time and uses the proper protocols. His last message came a few hours ago, just a standard report."  
"I have been reviewing the data you sent me." The old Warmaster seemed more energetic now he was talking business. "These people have a violent history."  
"Almost as violent as ours." Jha'dur said. "A race forged in battle, they are new to the stars but that counts for nothing."  
"Len'char dismisses them as primitive."  
She scoffed. "Certain proof they should be taken seriously!"  
Gar'shan nodded. "What does your agent say?"  
"He has nearly been killed three times already, against a Spectre of his skill that is remarkable." Jha'dur said with no boastfulness, just plain fact. "They are smart, they plan well and they are patient enough to set traps. An unhealthy combination."  
"And their military?"  
"Better than anything we've faced yet in terms of training. Based on the performance of the cruiser at Tirrith I'd be concerned by them."  
"Concerned enough to try and make peace with them?"  
"Absolutely." Jha'dur said without hesitation. "They are at least as dangerous as the Narn, in my estimation more so."  
"Good." He nodded. "I agree and have set in motion a plan to handle them."  
"Plan?"  
"We will make a treaty with Earth." Gar'shan said. "One designed to keep them quiet while we tear apart the League and consolidate our position."

Finally it seemed somebody had taken notice to one of her political suggestions. "It is a great weight off my mind." Jha'dur said honestly. "We should stay well away from the humans."  
"Two things swayed my mind." Gar'shan said. "The first was the broadcast you sent me."  
"ISN?"  
"Yes, their news channel." The Supreme Warmaster agreed producing a data crystal. "Would you mind?"  
She took the crystal while the man remained seated and activated the nearest screen. It glowed to life and began to play a news report showing a human female talking about disruption caused by military exercises at Mars.  
"Do you know any race that trains in such a way?" Gar'shan asked rhetorically. "Would the League spend so much money on just practice? Would the Cetauri risk putting so many ships in one place in case house rivalry sparked a civil war? These humans take the business of war seriously."  
His protégé nodded. "My thoughts exactly sir."  
The report showed footage of the fleets in action, moving and deploying against each other in mock battle before switching to images of landing ships hitting the surface of Mars and deploying troops and armour.  
"As you say, they are well trained." Gar'shan continued. "And well equipped."  
"I have argued for years to get us a vehicle designed purely for vehicle to vehicle combat." Jha'dur said as human tanks tore across the red desert. "Our current combined transports and fighting vehicles are a waste of potential."  
"I agree, but getting the appropriations committee to spend money on a new project is almost impossible with the Advanced Cruiser programme taking a slice of the budget."  
"The what?" Jha'dur frowned.  
"I'll tell you later, but I want you first to tell me what is missing from this footage." Gar'shan slipped into his teaching voice, something very familiar to Jha'dur. "Watch closely my student."  
She followed his gaze back to the screen, watching as the footage showed the Earth warships practicing their formation flying against each other. She smiled when she saw the pattern, it was what had prompted her to bring it to Gar'shan's attention in the first place.  
"The fleet on the far side of the screen are using Pentacan formations." She pointed. "Clearly gleaned from analysis of our battles, probably from the _Persephone_ data recorder."  
"Good." Gar'shan nodded. "Implications?"  
"They are training their navy to fight us." Jha'dur answered.  
"Very good, so what is missing?"  
She had to look a bit more closely this time. "There is no evidence of how they intend to defeat us." She considered. "We can see the force in Pentacan formation, but not the formations adopted by the opposing human fleet."  
"Excellent my young lady!" Gar'shan chuckled. "So we cannot make a contingency plan ourselves to counter whatever the humans are planning. Look deeper, what else is missing?"  
She smiled wide as she saw it. "No Dreadnoughts. Or new model Starfuries for that matter."  
"You do me proud Jha'dur." Gar'shan complimented. "The Humans want to make sure we don't see their best units during the exercise to keep their true abilities hidden from us. I suspect this whole broadcast was for our benefit, you and I in particular Jha'dur."

"A warning." She said. "They know how we fight and are ready to meet us, but they hide their capabilities to keep us guessing."  
"I'm beginning to like this race." Gar'shan allowed. "Of course their response could be weak and ineffectual despite this practice, or it could be crushingly effective."  
"On evidence I'd say the latter."  
"I would agree." Gar'shan confirmed. "This broadcast was put together by the military, at least the visual parts of the report. I had imagined the Centauri would be the greatest test of our people when we eventually move on them. Perhaps I was wrong."  
"I firmly belief we will triumph." Jha'dur said. "But not until after the League is crushed and we have moved our people to a new world, hopefully this one."  
"I agree, and for once so does the council. It will be at least ten years after our sun is ruined that we can consider a new war."  
That eased Jha'dur's mind slightly. "You mentioned two reasons for the treaty?"  
"Yes, it occurred to me while reading some of the historical information you acquired." Gar'shan began. "Humans fight for much the same reasons we do, territory, resources, power struggles, the things that make worlds spin. But sometimes they fight for other reasons. For ideals, for religion, for moral reasons."  
"With respect, nobody goes to war for morals. Not even the Markab." Jha'dur stated.  
"Wars start for many reasons, most of them tangible." Gar'shan agreed. "But while a government may fight for it's own reasons, the actual warriors are motivated by more than greed. They are idealist's Jha'dur, just like you. And if that idealism makes you dangerous, what would a planet full of idealists do?"  
"Normally it would make them easier to kill, like the Abbai." She replied. "But an idealist with the control and skill to fight to achieve that perfect world? I wouldn't like to face them."  
"Nor would I, so we talk." Gar'shan nodded. "The delegation will leave from here in a week."  
Jha'dur nodded. "I stand ready to serve."  
"You will not be going."

She blinked once and stared at her superior in total surprise. "What do you mean?"  
"I need you to lead the fleet into Cascor space, victory there is crucial for our war effort."  
"I know more about humans than any other leader, with respect I am the best choice for this mission."  
"I need you in the battle." Gar'shan said sternly. "Despite general opinion the Cascor will be a great challenge, unlike the rest of the League they are both competent and aggressive. I need my best commander there to react to changing circumstances and guarantee victory. This is crucial Jha'dur, you know it is."  
He was right of course, and for the Dilgar as a race they had to quickly win the war close to home before looking towards the far flung Earth Alliance. "Who will you send?"  
"The council has made the decision for me." He sighed." Len'char will lead."  
"That is ridiculous!" Jha'dur snapped. "You need someone who understands humans! Not the thick headed corpse!"  
"Which is why I appointed a second representative to go with him, someone we can trust." Gar'shan said. "You're brother."  
Jha'dur found that raised a mix of emotions, while she appreciated the wise choice and knew he would perform the task well, she was concerned at sending him into the heart of a race she had just named as the Dilgar's most worthy adversary.  
"This troubles you?" Gar'shan asked.  
"No." she answered quickly. "No, Sha'dur can take care of himself. He will fulfil the mission."  
"He will, and don't worry." The Supreme Warmaster said calmly. "The humans won't fire on a diplomatic mission, it would be inappropriate."  
"Yes sir."  
Gar'shan leaned forward a little and his face lightened. "I hear my son has been causing trouble."  
Jha'dur smiled and looked down. "You could say that."  
"Why don't you tell me how he is doing, I imagine he is eager to take on the Cascan defence fighters."  
For a while there was no war and no plans for devastation, just two people discussing things that were dear to them.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 41

43

Earth Alliance Heavy Cruiser _Lexington_  
Near Eridani system  
Earth Alliance Border.

"All hands be advised, hyperspace exit in ten minutes." A gently modulated electronic voice announced. "Ten minutes to destination."  
It was the standard warning for the ships crew to prepare for the entry into normal space which usually meant standing ready at defence stations. So far Earth Force hadn't been able to find a way to scan through the hyperspace barrier with anything more than a tiny beam of Tachyons, which worked to send messages but was useless as a method of seeing if an enemy ship was waiting just outside the Jump gate. As a result it was standard practice for Earth Force ships to be prepared for any eventuality when they returned to normal space, even in safe areas.  
This time however there was a little urgency to the crew not normally seen because this time they knew that there could be trouble waiting for them. When they arrived they would find themselves face to face with a Dilgar task force holding in the Earth controlled system centred on a Dreadnought with a full escort of cruisers and escorts. The base had given a number of thirty ships, many more than Earth Force had expected but in hindsight understandable. The Dilgar had been forced to travel through Narn space to reach this distant world and while the Narn were staunchly neutral they were also known to be not entirely trustworthy.  
Never the less, the ships were here now and were patiently awaiting the arrival of the diplomatic team sent from Earth to handle this situation. The meeting was being kept extremely secret for now with no word of it mentioned to the people of the Alliance or their allies, at least not until the truth of this meeting was established. The initial transmission had simply asked for a meeting to discuss a treaty of non-aggression which had rather taken President Hauser by surprise. Director Durban of the EIA had informed him the Narn had a similar arrangement and it seemed the Dilgar were going to make an effort to buy Earth off with peace. Or at least a piece of paper.  
In many ways a piece of paper was more deadly than a fleet of warships, if made immediately public it could lull the Senate into a false sense of security slashing the military budget and making Earth unable to defend itself based simply on a Dilgar promise. Hauser did not especially like the idea of that so made sure his negotiation team was the best he could assemble backed up by the EIA and as much covert intelligence as they could find. Even now the Director had his new ship heading to Krish to gather information that could be used to test the honesty of the Dilgar position. Until that mission was finished the orders were to keep the Dilgar talking.

"Still think this is a bad idea my friend?" The grey haired man wondered.  
Ambassador Sir Richard Grenville was living in the wrong century. His clothing looked like that of a Victorian gentleman with waistcoat, fob watch and tall collared white shirt beneath a long black coat. In fact he bore more than a slight resemblance to an undertaker. His face however was dominated by a generously sized moustache and bushy eyebrows, both grey and both immaculately kept even in the zero gravity of the warship.  
The Englishman had been one of humanity's first extraterrestrial representatives with a solid fifty years of experience in the diplomatic corps and a natural affinity for the fine art of negotiating. He had served as Earth's first true ambassador to Centauri Prime where his curious sense of dress had actually gone down very well and allowed him to fit in among visitors to the Royal Court. It was even stated that the new Emperor had shared a few jokes with him before Grenvilles time as Ambassador ended.  
Under President Hauser's administration he had been appointed as Secretary of Foreign Affairs, a post with great status and plenty of responsibility designed to set up human embassies on alien worlds and look after the various alien delegations on Earth, which were currently few and far between.  
He was a natural choice for this sort of mission and his ability to speak flawless Centauri would give him a common language with the Dilgar representative heading their side of the talks. There were few who had the same level of understanding into alien minds as Grenville and if the Dilgar were trying something he'd be the first to know.

"I think anything involving Dilgar is a bad idea." his companion answered in a gentle accent originating from the American Midwest. "Gives me a chill just thinking about it."  
Earth liked to send it's diplomats in pairs and tended to put people with different back grounds together. The idea was that the two different negotiators would stand a better chance of seeing any lies or evasion on the part of their opposite numbers and therefore keep Earth safe. In this case the President had hand picked one of the rising stars of the Diplomatic corps, a balding short man called David Sheridan.  
Sheridan was a perfect diplomat because he was not what he first appeared, that silent and calm exterior hid a quick mind that had surprised many human and alien negotiators. The ineffectual and inoffensive demeanor Sheridan projected was in many ways his true personality, a gift from an idyllic child hood growing up amid the corn fields of the great plains basking in long and glorious summers. It had done a lot to shape his view of Earth and his desire to preserve it.  
In contrast to Grenville he wore warm and earthy colours, simple browns and very dark reds styled into a plain and almost cheap looking suit, all serving to project this carefully orchestrated image. While his hair was fast vanishing he still had some red hued locks and kept them neatly trimmed and tidy. For all the galaxy knew he could have been a local Bank manager or store owner.  
His record told the truth of course, Sheridan had been a successful aide in negotiations with the Centauri, Koulani and the African Block on Earth. More recently he'd led diplomatic missions to keep the peace with the mining guilds and Belt Alliance while also working with the Narn to resolve a handful of border disputes, including the important Peace Treaty with the Regime after initial violence after the First Contact. He had aided Grenville there and made a good team, now they were together again facing an even more dangerous opponent.

"The question is, what do they want?" Grenville mused. "Nobody negotiates for the benefit of others, just for their own interests. How does this serve the Dilgar interests?"  
"They want to keep us out of their war." Sheridan answered. "Just like the Narn, they must consider us a threat to their plans."  
"Which means they've studied us, assessed our military and available resources and come to the conclusion that we can hurt them." Grenville continued. "They know a good deal about us, I would wager they have also studied our history and elements of our current culture, probably language too so they may be able to understand us, though I doubt they'll show it."  
"You think they're here to study us?" Sheridan asked.  
"As one of their goals, yes." The Ambassador nodded. "Though I also think they genuinely want this treaty, they travelled a long way at great risk to attend this meeting. If they just wanted to study us they'd send a small expendable team in secret."  
"Like the agent the EIA found in Earth Dome."  
"Exactly. Probably best not to mention that, I'm sure our spooks have a plan to handle that internally."  
Sheridan nodded in agreement. Their directive from Earth was to attend this negotiation and try to get a feel for what the Dilgar were really like. So far humanity's only contact with the species had been violent, on the one hand there was the _Persephone_, and on the other the Dilgar Agent on Earth trying to steal highly classified data. The Government had done a quick job covering that up, blaming disaffected terrorists for the destruction and keeping the alien connection secret.  
Now there was a chance to meet a Dilgar and talk with them, and as far as Sheridan was concerned you could learn a lot more with some subtle questions than by any amount of observation or research. He was going to be keeping a very close watch on the expressions and body language of the Dilgar diplomats as Grenville started asking difficult questions. First and foremost was going to be the _Persephone_ and the atrocities on Tirrith.

With a slight shudder the _Lexington_ dropped out of the main jump gate and began the final stage of the journey.  
"All hands, maintain condition two alert." A strong female voice ordered, that of the ships commander Vice Admiral Thornhill. She had commanded the Cruiser Squadron that at one time had included the _Persephone_ and Sheridan could sense a hardness in her tone. She was clearly no friend to the Dilgar. "Prepare shuttle in Bay two for deployment, diplomatic team report to Bay two at your convenience."  
"That's our ride." Sheridan began unbuckling himself from the seat he had been in for most of the trip, unlike most of his family he hated Space tracel. Grenville on the other hand wasn't quite ready to go yet. He moved to a communication panel and activated it.  
"Admiral, this is Ambassador Grenville."  
After a few seconds there came a response. "Mr Ambassador, is there a problem?"  
"No Admiral, I was hoping you could show us the feed from the visual sensors. I'd quite like to see the Dilgar ships as we approach."  
"As you wish." Thornhill replied, and a few moments later the large screen in their lounge blinked to life.  
"Why do you need to see their ships?" Sheridan wondered. "We saw them in the intelligence briefing."  
"Just curiousity." Grenville shrugged. "And perhaps to put me in the right frame of mind, these are a militant people, aggressive but subtle. We're going to have to tread carefully with these people. Let's hope they've sent a Moron to negotiate with us."

The Eridani outpost was in two parts, on the surface was a fairly small and largely unimportant scientific research facility doing climate experiments and in orbit was the more impressive trading post and military garrison. It was a standard _Orion_ class station with a habitation ring spinning steadily around the central zero gravity core and docking bay. It was well armed with guns and missile batteries and a healthy sensor suite, not to mention thicker armour than most battleships. It grew steadily larger as the cruiser approached, a flight of Tiger class Starfuries escorting them in. Not, Sheridan noted, the latest Nova class Furies.  
Earth was playing a careful game with the Dilgar making sure to hide evidence of it's true strength. The model Starfuries were by all accounts startlingly good fighters and a major ace in the hole the Alliance could count on, right along side the similarly named Dreadnoughts. Earth Force knew the Dilgar would be using this as a grand opportunity to gather hard sensor data on Human military units and their capabilities, as well as numbers and formations so Admiral Hamato who commanded this sector was doing his best to keep the potential enemy guessing.  
But at the same time Hamato was aware of the potential danger this represented Not only did the military desire to hide it's technology but they also didn't want to show exactly how many ships they had, deciding to send just Admiral Thornhill to meet the Dilgar fleet. In addition to the base Hamato had deployed just five cruisers to hold station and face the Dilgar fleet of thirty, and even considering the strength of the base it would be a short fight if hostilities erupted. There were precautions of course, the sector Admiral had deployed two full Divisions in hyperspace riding close to the system beacon ready to enter at the first sign of trouble, Twenty Dreadnoughts lead by the _Hannibal,_ his personal flagship with a full escort wing of about fifty smaller ships.  
It was a gamble, but hopefully the base would hold long enough for the fleet to jump in to the rescue.

Carefully the _Lexington_ moved into position and came to a relative stop on the nearside of the station, with the Dilgar fleet arrayed on the far side. Using the _Lexington_ was also part of Admiral Hamato's ploy, she had previously rescued the survivors of the _Persephone_ incident and was already known to the Dilgar. By sending just heavy cruisers he was again denying the Dilgar an opportunity to investigate any of the unfamiliar Earth Force warships.  
Moments later the shuttle departed from its bay just forward of the _Lexington's_ lower conning tower and made it's journey to the main docking bay at Eridani Station, a squadron of fighters escorting it under the guns of the base and task force. The Dilgar however made no move and simply waited until the shuttle was cleared through the dock before beginning their own preparations.  
With simple efficiency the Earth shuttle was locked away and the bay prepared to receive the Dilgar delegation, Grenville and Sheridan making their way out to the gravity positive sections of the station.  
"Gentlemen." They were met in customs by an officer in full dress uniform. "My name is Commander Drezler, welcome to Eridani sector."  
"Thank you Commander." Grenville answered. "Is the room set up as I asked?"  
"Yes sir, shall we inform the Dilgar we are ready to begin?"  
"Please do." The Ambassador nodded.  
"Is the escort ready?" Sheridan then joined in. "You found the unit I asked for?"  
"We did sir." The Commander flickered a smile. "Maybe the Dilgar will remember them?"  
"Make sure the cameras catch their faces as they arrive." Sheridan nodded. "I want to see if there is a reaction, give us a little insight into their character."  
"Also your experts are waiting, two EIA agents from Earth."  
"Field agents?" Sheridan wondered.  
"No sir, technical." Drezler answered. "Agents Clark and O'Leary, they're young but supposed to be the foremost experts on the Dilgar. They even speak enough of the language between them to translate."  
"Negotiations will be in Centauri." Grenville said. "But keep them listening in on the security monitors, if they say anything to each other they can hopefully catch it."  
"Understood sir."  
"Well then." Grenville rubbed his hands together and grinned at Sheridan. "Let's see what we are up against. Clear them to land Commander and we'll start this little game."

Krish Star system  
Dilgar occupied.

Jors did not take his eyes off the proximity sensors for the twelve full minutes it took for the pair of Thorun Dartfighters to leisurely cruise in and out of sensor range. Beside him the rest of the _Space Race_ crew remained equally tense and motionless as if by not moving in their chairs they could avoid drawing the attention of the military craft passing by on standard patrol. At one point they had come close enough to see out of the forward bridge windows, green trident shaped predators weaving in and out of the massive flocks of harmless freighters now trapped in this conquered system.  
"I think they're leaving." Toby whispered completely unnecessarily.  
"Wait until we're sure." Paul Calendar stated. "Give it another few minutes after they make it out of range."  
The two fighters left the small computer generated circle that represented their predicted sensor range and put the _Race_ back in the dark as far as the Dilgar were concerned. Paul however was not about to take any chances and he waited until the fighters were another five minutes away before giving the go ahead for the ship to continue its monitoring operation.  
"Estimate an hour and a half until they head back into this sector." Jenny reported from her station to the right of the small bridge. "Until then we should be free and clear."  
"I've heard that before." Jors muttered as he finally brought his attention back to the flight controls. The system had been on cold standby while the Dilgar were conducting their patrol to avoid drawing attention, and now very carefully he brought the reactor up to optimal power.  
"Put us back on course, slow and steady." Paul ordered. "Loop around the planet, get some readings and rendezvous with the _Delphi_ on the far side of the fifth planet. Nice easy job."  
"As long as we don't get caught." Toby commented. "Then it's going to just get ugly."  
"Nothing new for us." Paul answered. "Jors, lets get this done."

The _Space Race_ had arrived a few hours earlier through a jump point opened behind a particularly large asteroid which would hopefully mask their arrival from Dilgar sensors. There had been no increase in communication among the Dilgar ships and no fighter units vectored in to check out the area so Paul had made the decision to proceed, the EIA cruiser _Delphi_ returned to hyperspace and made the quick journey out to the rendezvous point further out in the Krish home system, there it would wait until the _Race _arrived and open a fresh jump point through which both ships would retreat and take home a bundle of vital intelligence. At least in theory.  
The key to the mission was using the _Space Race_ to get close enough to Krish for it's newly fitted sensor pods to get some solid readings from the surface and if possible from the naval forces holding station between the world and the local jump gate. Krish space was literally packed with cargo ships, liners and freighters of every description from all across the League, ships that had been chartered to evacuate refugees from this planet but had not made it to the gate in time. Only a fraction of the refugee fleet had escaped, a few thousand people at most before the Dilgar invaded ahead of schedule and nailed the doorway shut.  
The _Race_ would mingle with these trapped freighters and pretend to be one of them, it's external appearance was battered enough to make it look like it'd been plying the routes for years and was a harmless tramp ship, which a few months ago would have been quite true, however that camouflage now concealed a potent little package of anti fighter and even a few anti ship weapons. It's four cargo pods had been replaced by two advanced sensor pods on loan from the EIA and a couple of Earth Force Q-Ship weapons pods packed with a nasty plasma cannon and a dozen missiles each. The pods looked like regular cargo containers and a casual scan would show them as simply empty space, but even so Paul wanted to make very sure he didn't cross paths with a Dilgar patrol. Not with their luck.

"Course set." Jors announced. "Here we go."  
He gave the ship a brief nudge form the engines and then let inertia do the rest. Running the engines constantly would probably draw some attention which was the last thing they wanted so they would simply coast and use Krish's gravity to curl them around the planet and put them on course for the rendezvous. With so many ships in the area Paul was hoping they would go completely unnoticed and not get shot to pieces.  
"No activity." Toby checked the ship's standard sensors, now upgraded to military grade. "I don't think the Dilgar spotted us. Or they don't care."  
"Most of the freighters are trying to get away from the planet." Jenny said. "Slipping past the Dilgar patrols and heading for the outer edges of the system to hide. If I was a Dilgar officer and I saw a ship heading the other way I'd be pretty suspicious."  
"How long until we reach the planet?"  
"About an hour." Jors said. "We'll pick up some speed with a little gravity slingshot as we flyby, then make it out of Dilgar sensor range less than half an hour later. We should be out of here in just under three hours if we play it right."  
"And just under three hundred pieces if we don't." Toby reminded them.  
"Well you never know." Paul smiled. "Maybe the Dilgar will welcome us back as old friends."  
"Yeah, with open gun ports." Jenny chuckled.  
"Just keep us nice and steady." Paul told Jors. "No sudden movements, just fly casual."  
"Fly casual." Jors scoffed. "Where have I heard that before?"  
Slowly and silently the _Space Race_ slipped through the Dilgar lines and travelled closer and closer to the planet itself.

Eridani Station

Sha'dur was isolated enough inside the cocoon of the diplomatic shuttle but he still had an uneasy feeling like he was being watched. In fact he supposed he was, with the eyes of the Dilgar senior leadership firmly focused on the success of this mission, and in all likelihood the equivalent members of the Earth Alliance doing the same.  
He knew his sister would have killed to be here face to face with members of the human leadership, and in all likelihood would one day kill Len'char for taking her place here, but the Supreme Warmaster had been adamant Jha'dur was needed elsewhere and was currently moving to the Cascan border. She had gathered her fleet once more, resupplied, and was now just a couple of days away from all out war again, one more front to fight on, one more empire to break, one more step on the path to salvation.  
As soon as she established a foot hold and began to engage the main Cascor fleets Sha'dur and his fleet would move to engage the Ipsha, a reasonably advanced race just beyond Cascor space at the limits of the League worlds. If all went as scheduled this conference would end quickly and allow him to lead the flee tin person rather than commanding from afar, though he did trust his aide War Captain Evenil to fight skilfully in his place.  
He had come a long way in a short time, from a rash officer to a genuinely skilled Warmaster who was fast earning respect within the Imperium. He had received invaluable instruction from jha'dur on how to fight, and from Gar'shan on why to fight which was if anything more important to him than plain sills and tactics. He had driven the Brakiri to ruin but not wasted his ships in trying to secure a phyrric victory, he had learned to control his emotions and fight coldly, and it had put him at about the rank of third most effective soldier in the entire Imperium, behind Dar'sen on the Drazi front and of course at the top Jha'dur herself.  
Now he was being trusted with a place on this diplomatic mission, something he had no true experience in. Len'char was leading the delegation and while Sha'dur was technically there to assist him in reality Sha'dur was there to watch Len'char and report directly to the Supreme Warmaster. It was no secret the two leaders were opposed to each other and it had divided the government, a potential dangerous situation in wartime. No rift had yet opened, and by keeping a close watch on Len'char hopefully those loyal to Gar'shan could prevent a disaster before it happened.

The shuttle docked carefully in the stations central bay before following a series of lifts and conveyors out of the zero gravity area and into a positive gravity private docking bay in the stations ring. The ship rumbled to a stop and the bay sealed and pressurized around them.  
"You have your papers Warmaster Sha'dur?" Len'char asked with a hint of disdain. There was no doubt the intelligence head was also fully aware as to why he had been assigned a second on this mission.  
"Ready when you are Warmaster."  
Len'char was the senior officer of the two having held the rank longer, indeed he was senior to Jha'dur too but wisely had never tried to order her to do something on his authority alone. Sha'dur had to suppress a smile when he imagined his sisters likely reaction to such an event.  
"I shall negotiate." Len'char continued. "You will provide facts and data when asked by me, otherwise you will remain silent."  
"As you wish." Sha'dur had no intention of playing lackey to Len'char, especially as his sister had made sure Sha'dur spoke passable English. One more reason to come along, but no need to tell Len'char all the details.  
"These humans are a new race, newer even than us, I don't expect any problems but even so do not give anything away." The lecture continued. "Our orders are to produce a non aggression treaty, even if these humans are no threat our great leader has spoken, so we obey or are executed."  
"Indeed we do." Sha'dur smiled thinly. "A sad end to your career Warmaster."  
Len'char shot him a glance, but did not press that point. "Gar'shan has executed a great many people. He is not the hero you believe. He is as power hungry as any of us."  
"Perhaps." Sha'dur replied. "But he has the wisdom to use what he has gained wisely, his Grand Strategy in this war is flawless."  
"It is reckless, we are spread too thin."  
"We have the initiative, and offense is the best defence."  
"Now that is Jha'dur talking." Len'char scoffed. "Always ready to attack somebody new."  
"No." Sha'dur said calmly. "She fights when she knows she can win, which is why she supports our treaties with the Narn and now Earth. She knows we cannot fight larger powers and the League, she knows there is a time to fight and a time to prepare."  
"We will see what she knows." Len'char answered darkly. "But for now we have our duty, prepare to leave."

The shuttle was officially carrying four passengers, consisting of pilot, copilot and the two Warmasters. In truth it was carrying five, unknown to everyone except Sha'dur the shuttle had an extra guest, one of Jha'dur's Spectres. His job was to act as insurance, partly in case the humans tried anything, which Jha'dur doubted, but mostly to protect against an act of treachery from Len'char or one of his cronies.  
The Spectre was called Arn'dal and was rated second only to Dar'ro in Jha'dur's estimation. With Dar'ro on long term assignment to Earth Arn'dal had become her personal bodyguard and most trusted enforcer, the only one she could trust to ensure her brothers safety. Arn'dal was larger than Dar'ro had been and did not suffer from baldness like his colleague, if anything he was the perfect specimen of Dilgar adulthood, tall, broad and strong with an unusually quick wit. While Dar'ro was faster and more determined Arn'dal had a far more interesting record, and a kill list unmatched by anyone without resorting to aerial bombardment. He had a tendancy to create a lot of collateral damage during missions which had kept him from Earth but made him the ideal bodyguard. Nothing ever got past him.  
They left the pilots in the ship and headed to the doorway leading to the habitable sections, behind them Arn'dal quietly followed undetectable under the shroud of his stealth suit. So far there had been no system that could break through the capabilities of these suits, and while this was a standard model which could only be truly effective when simulating invisibility, it's workings remained an extraordinary secret guarded by Jha'dur's inner circle at Research and Development command.  
The airlock door whined and opened revealing a line of soldiers standing flush to the wall beyond and a tall and powerful looking officer a few yards ahead waiting to greet them.  
Each of the soldiers was wearing dress uniform, a grey long cut uniform jacket with black trim and some gold braid, clearly the humans shared the Dilgar appreciation for finery. The officer had dark skin and a bald head, Sha'dur noted a few different skin colours among the soldiers but noted no particular pattern regarding their ranks, judging that human soldiers were not segregated by class or caste. That had to mean they were given rank based on merit, the pattern was too random to suggest family or national prejudices.

He followed Len'char through the doorway, noting that the soldiers forming the honour guard were well armed with energy rifles and combat knives at their belts, perhaps a sign that human soldiers had no concerns about engaging in face to face combat? Sha'dur could certainly respect that, and he noticed not one of the men or women even flicked an eye his direction. They remained utterly under control waiting for their officer to speak.  
It was then Sha'dur was taken completely by surprise by a deep throaty growl, something he totally did not expect from humans. Narns yes, but not humans. It took several seconds for him to see it wasn't a human but some four legged furry creature which looked deceptively powerful despite its lack of height. It also had plenty of teeth and was straining against a lead held by another black skinned soldier.  
Sha'dur grabbed the word 'Dog' from somewhere in his memory and gave it some distance. But the animal was not snarling at him, it was snarling at something behind him, and there was only one possible explanation. It knew Arn'dal was there. Sha'dur didn't have time to figure out how it knew, but clearly it did and Arn'dal's discovery would not only jeopardise the mission but would compromise his own security in case Len'char did have designs on his life.  
With a subtle hand gesture he motioned for Arn'dal to fall back and return to the shuttle. No doubt the Spectre was not happy about it but he obeyed instantly, and the Dog beside him fell silent.  
If the dark human officer knew what had happened he did not display it.  
"Welcome to Eridani, My Name is Captain Richard Franklin, Earth Force." He announced in Centauri.  
"We thank you for receiving us. I am Warmaster Len'char, this is Warmaster Sha'dur."  
"If you would care to follow me I'll escort you to the meeting room." He turned to a man beside him. "Sergeant Garibaldi?"  
"Sir." The man answered.  
"See that Delilah gets a steak."  
"Yes sir." He said, quickly hiding a grin. Sha'dur did not know what that meant, but he did now these humans had something to be pleased about, and while he couldn't prove it he knew it had to do with Arn'dal's discovery by that beast.  
They were led further through the station, and Sha'dur resolved himself to learn all he could. These humans were going to be trouble.

Krish.

"Uh oh." Toby said ominously.  
"Don't do that!" Paul snapped. "Never, ever, ever say that on this ship because you just know what happens next!"  
"Fire, explosions, us running for our lives." Jors elaborated. "Never good."  
"Sorry." Toby said absently. "I just meant, well, Uh oh, we got problems."  
"He's right." Jenny confirmed reading the data from the far better sensor pods currently fitted to the _Space Race_. "We just had some major hyperspace activity."  
"How major?" Paul asked.  
"About the entire Dilgar navy." Toby groaned.  
"Make that a thousand ships." Jenny said more precisely. "At least a third of those are heavy warships of cruiser size or above, based on markings I'd say it was First Strike Fleet."  
Paul grew a little sick at the report. "Warmaster Jha'dur."  
"Same ships from Abbai space and Tirrith." Jors said with palpable bitterness. "About as mean as they come."  
"Think they remember us?" Toby wondered.  
"From what I've read on Jha'dur, oh yeah." Jenny confirmed. "She's the sort who holds grudges."  
"I hate Dilgar." All three male crewmembers said in perfect unison.  
"I recommend we stay on course." Jenny said calmly. "If we start firing engines it's going to get us noticed. The fleet is holding station near the gate, we won't be travelling anywhere near it."  
"So we just float past them and hope they don't spot us?" Toby grunted. "Why don't we call the _Delphi_? Get us out of here quick."  
"Because it'll have to get here through hyperspace first." Paul answered. "And it's at least five minutes to recharge the jump engines, and It won't take the Dilgar five minutes to see it, shoot it, and then shoot us too." He shook his head. "We hold course, finish the mission."  
"You really want that money?" Jenny half joked.  
But did not laugh back. "We took a job, and we owe it to our employers to get it done. We owe a lot of people to get this done."  
Paul didn't say any more, but it was quite obvious what he meant. The Dilgar had done a lot of damage, to the ship, to the crew, to the universe at large. Paul wanted to do something about that, it wasn't about the money anymore, it was something else. Paul would say justice, which would be a first for him, but Jenny was minded to call it something darker.  
"Toby, watch the Dilgar." He ordered. "Jenny, get ready to scan the planet, we're coming up in a few minutes."  
"Angels and Ministers of Grace defend us." Jors muttered, then put his hand on the emergency engine start and did not move it away again, just in case.

Dreadnought Deathwalker

It was with satisfaction Jha'dur surveyed the system, her brother had taken it quickly and cleanly with no losses to his fleet and no damage to the planet. At least not at first. He had let his ships work out some aggression on the vast numbers of freighters clogging the system and there was a lot of debris near the gate where some vessels had tried a breakout. She had plenty of new ships in her fleet to replace war losses that had yet to see combat, a little live fire practice would probably come in useful.  
Krish had been a prospective home for the Dilgar species, but ultimately they had chosen the world Jha'dur had taken, Mitoc. The Supreme Warmaster and the council had confirmed it mere days ago and already the first construction teams were there setting up an orbital defence grid and the first houses for the engineers and workers from Omelos.  
The population had been left alone for now, but that was going to change. Jha'dur had set up a system of work camps that would soon be built to turn the native Mitoc into a huge source of slave labour. Hopefully it ould speed up the process of altering their infrastructure for Dilgar needs, and at the same time remove most of the population as the died of overworking and brutality.  
Jha'dur had complemented herself on the elegance of the plan.  
It had meant that krish was now surplus to requirements. While the idea of two habitable planets had suggested they could save twice as many of Omelos' population Jha'dur had found it would make no difference. They had enough ships to evacuate around two billion billion people in the estimated three years until the star exploded, and it was better to put them together on one world rather than split them and thereby split the defences being planned for them.  
Krish was no threat, but nor was it a benefit. Sha'dur had however found some use for it, the same use he had found for the refugee freighters. Target practice. Once word came through Mitoc was their new home there was no need to keep the world intact, so Sha'dur had systematically destroyed every population centre in less than two days, efficient even by Jha'dur's standards. She smiled a little in approval.

But already the war had moved on, the Imperium still needed to secure territory to safeguard it's new home and make sure the League was in no condition to fight back once the war ended. It wasn't about finding a home anymore, which meant the Dilgar no longer had to restrain themselves when it came to planetary assaults.  
It amused Jha'dur slightly, with at least five billion casualties in this war already it was hard to accept the Dilgar had been pulling their punches, but her fleets had been very careful with their weapons of mass destruction in the event they didn't find a better world and had to evict an established League race like the Abbai or Hyach, or even the Brakiri.  
Now she could finally use her weapons to their full potential, and she had been stockpiling an assortment of biological agents for exactly this purpose. The League thought they had seen the worst of the Dilgar, they hadn't seen anything yet.  
The Cascor would be the first, then the Ipsha a week or so afterwards. Again the Dilgar would be advancing on two fronts engaging two races at a time. It had worked against the Hyach and Brakiri, the superpowers of the League, against the cascor and Ipsha it was going to be far easier.  
That did not mean it wouldn't take some effort, but there was no doubt as to the outcome. The Cascor were at least competent warriors and according to scout reports they were fully mobilised and ready for war, unlike most League races they knew the Dilgar were coming and had prepared a warm reception.  
Jha'dur valued the element of surprise and she deeply enjoyed slaying her enemies while they fumbled around trying to react to her tactics, but after the Hyach campaign she had found herself missing something, some sense of fulfilment after the battle. It was too easy, and while she knew no warior should ever complain of a victory being easy she found that she was. Jha'dur sought a challenge, an enemy who was ready to fight, and it looked like the Cascor fit the bill.  
She had formulated a plan to try and take the greatest Cascor strength and turn it into their greatest weakness. The fleet was gathered stronger than ever and the deadline was just days away. She would be back at war, and she found herself looking forward to it. She had never once felt fear in battle, just confidence.  
She admitted she had felt worry in battle before, usually involving someone she cared about taking a risk or doing something stupid, but she had never feared for herself or considered death. If it came, it came and she wouldn't hide from it, but she firmly believed there wasn't a ship or Captain in the League skilled enough to destroy her flagship. She didn't consider it arrogance, just a sure and certain fact.

"System report Captain." She asked quietly. "Anything of interest?"  
"No Warmaster." An'jash ran through the sensor readings. "No military presence, just freighters and liners. Scans show multiple life signs."  
Jha'dur looked at the tactical screen, it showed the freighters were mainly grouped together and tended to be moving away from the Dilgar at a painfully slow rate. Without jump engines and with the gate under guard they were trapped, she guessed no more than a month before the passengers starved to death. Longer if they resorted to cannibalism. She felt a smile twitching at her lips, that would actually make an extremely fascinating experiment, a test of the instinct to survive in this race.  
"Order the ninth and tenth battlegroups to engage the nearest cluster of freighters, they need some gunnery practice."  
"Yes Warmaster."  
"Leave the other freighters intact, and I want them monitored by the guard ships. I'll provide more instruction for them in this matter before we leave."  
"It will be done Warmaster."  
She prepared to leave the bridge and oversee the final replacements to bring her force to full strength when she spotted something on the sensors, a tiny, lone reading near the planet. It hadn't raised any suspicious with the crew or the sensor officers, but it bothered her. She watched it for a while as it moved closer to the planet.  
"Captain, what ship is that, there?"  
An'jash brought up the data. "Light Freighter, generic design."  
Jha'dur looked at the information carefully, the mass and dimension data seemed basic enough, but the hull material wasn't any League produced alloy. "Can you get a visual from a nearer ship?"  
Her suspicion had been raised by the ship heading toward the planet, not away like all the rest, and when they finally picked up a visual feed from a nearby frigate she instantly recognized the design. So did An'jash.  
"The Tirrith freighter!" she gasped. "Humans!"  
"Correct." Jha'dur confirmed calmly. "Launch a fighter squadron to disable it."  
"At once Warmaster."  
"Then find Squadron Leader Ari'shan, I have a job for him."

Eridani Station.

"Gentlemen, I am Secretary of Foreign Affairs Sir Richard Grenville, this is my Second Mr David Sheridan."  
"I am Warmaster Len'schar of the Dilgar Imperium, and this is Warmaster Sha'dur, my second."  
The bowed slightly to one another before Grenville gestured at the seats around the table. "Shall we sit down gentlemen?"  
"Thankyou Ambassador." Len'char nodded. "I do look forward to beginning these talks."  
"As do we all Warmaster." Grenville answered carefully. "Can I offer you any food or drink?"  
"That is not necessary, thank you." Len'char took his seat, Sha'dur quietly following suit.  
The conference chamber was rather Spartan in nature as befitted such an out of the way outpost with plain metal walls with very little decoration, just one picture of a city skyline taken on either Earth itself or one of the more developed human colonies. Sha'dur paid it a good deal of attention as Len'char fiddled with his notes, appreciating the simple linear designs of the city and the ordered arrangement of the buildings. He could also appreciate a little of the artistry in the way the image itself had been captured in the last light of the sun.  
"I'd like to start," Len'char spoke in accented Centauri but clear enough for the room to understand. "By bringing greetings from the Emperor and government. We humbly thank your people for this audience."  
"Thank you Warmaster." Grenville answered politely. "I'm sure these talks will be very enlightening for all concerned."  
Grenville had learned his language skills from the Centauri themselves and spoke with a cut and flawless accent perfected in and around the Royal court where slang words were frowned upon. The formal and rigid way he spoke matched the way he dressed which Sheridan could appreciate. Grenville wasn't typical of all humanity, nobody was, but he did project a very carefully cultivated image of himself to keep the alien races guessing about how representative he was of the species.  
"I am a man who likes to get things done quickly and plainly." Len'char began, and Sha'dur had to exert a good deal of will not to scoff at the idea. "So I will say this simply. The Dilgar Imperium wishes to sign a non aggression treaty with the Earth Alliance."  
Grenville nodded. "So if I may be equally blunt, why?"  
"Because we do not want a war with your people, my government believes you are a strong and honourable race and we should co-exist as friends, perhaps one day allies."  
Len'char did not believe the Dilgar needed friends or allies, just slaves and dead enemies. However even he had to admit that Gar'shan's wisdom in dealing with larger alien races one at a time was better than just attacking with no assurances.  
"Our people are very widely separated." Grenville said. "Until recently we had very no dealings with each other."  
"Correct, but as we conduct peacekeeping operations we find we are growing closer and closer to your borders."  
"Peacekeeping?" Grenville said. "Do you mean your invasion of sovereign worlds?"  
"Worlds that have sponsored piracy against the Imperium for many years, and who were threatening to invade us."  
"They kept that plan quiet." Grenville said, feigning surprise. "We have extensive trade relations with the Brakiri, can't say we ever noticed anything. Well, had trade relations, now we can't seem to get close."  
"The blockade is for everyones safety." Len'char said calmly. "To keep the terrorist Brakiri imprisoned until we can arrest them. When it is done the world will be freed under a legal government."  
"A Dilgar government?"  
"A legal government." Len'char repeated.  
"Like the other worlds you have taken?"  
"Exactly."

Grenville nodded over to Sheridan and the balding man produced some documents and laid them on the table.  
"These are reports we intercepted from across the League." Sheridan stated. "They contain some vivid reports of war crimes and atrocities committed by your people. The scale is simply shocking."  
"Propaganda." Len'char dismissed. "The Dilgar military is a professional force, not a gang of thugs."  
"You deny these events took place?"  
"Completely."  
Sha'dur kept a straight face, Len'char was being led into a trap, but for some very obvious reasons he didn't really care. He was just sad Jha'dur was going to miss it.  
"We'll come back to that later." Sheridan said patiently. "But why don't we discuss a little about the last time our people met."  
He dropped a picture in front of Len.char. Sha'dur leaned over a little and recognized the design as a human war cruiser. No doubt the ship his sister at destroyed nearly half a year earlier.  
"The _Persephone_." Sheridan clarified. "Lost on patrol at Tirrith in December last year."  
"A regrettable accident." Len'char sighed. "One for which we have apologised and offered reparations for."  
"Money does not make up for the deaths of a crew without provocation." Sheridan said flatly. "We recovered the data recorder from the _Persephone_ and know exactly what happened. Your ships fired first."  
"We believed your cruiser was an enemy vessel." Len'char replied.  
"She was broadcasting her neutrality on all frequencies."  
"In a language we did not understand."  
"In interlac Mr Warmaster." Sheridan stated curtly. "She was attempting to prevent the destruction of thousands of refugees."  
"The enemy fleet contained numerous terrorists, criminals and pirates who had commited crimes against the Dilgar." Len'char said firmly. "We were conducting war time operations."  
"Criminals?" Sheridan shook his head. "Women and Children who's only mistake was trying to get out from under the guns of your fleet."  
"We were fighting a war, and your ship got in the way!"  
"It shouldn't have had to, no civilized fleet fires on refugees."  
"If your Captain wasn't skilled enough to…."  
"The incident," Sha'dur cut in, interrupting Len'char before he said something really stupid. "Was regrettable, and we Dilgar take full responsibility. The officer commanding the vanguard forces was overzealous and not representative of the Dilgar fleet. If he had survived the battle he would have been court martialled."  
Len'char shot him a look that would melt steel, but remained silent.  
"And what about afterwards, the _Persepho_ne survived those first ships."Sheridan stated  
"When the main force arrived they saw the Vanguard destroyed and your ship in their midst, they reacted as any military leader would." Sha'dur sighed. "With more information I am sure the fleet commander would have acted differently."

"The fleet commander." Grenville mused. "A Warmaster Jha'dur, correct?"  
"Correct." Sh'dur answered. "May I ask how you know?"  
"Your own news service." Grenville told the half truth. "She seems to be quiet popular, any relation?"  
"My sister." Sha'dur confirmed. "Twin in fact, about thirty seconds older."  
Len'char made a disgruntled noise which was pointedly ignored.  
"There is still the point that the _Persephone_ was lost in an unprovoked incident." Sheridan continued.  
"All I can say is that we regret it." Sha'dur said contritely. "And we hope that nothing like that happens again, this treaty will ensure that."  
In truth the _Persephone_ was no accident, while her actual destruction hadn't been planned the events around it had been part of Dilgar foreign policy. A few years earlier when the Dilgar had been planning this war they had performed a similar ploy on the Narns, destroying one of their cruisers in a confused battle with Raiders involving ships from four separate groups. Newly appointed Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan had apologised profusely, offered the Narn a hefty compensation package and then a treaty to ensure it never happened again.  
That treaty had ensured the Narn would stay neutral in this war, and doomed the League to their fiery death. There were standing orders to do the same to any Centauri ship that stumbled into the battle field so a similar ploy could be enacted, and they even had orders to shoot any of the fabled Minbari ships they came across. Though Jha'dur was arguing vehemently that while Narn and Centauri reactions were predictable not enough was known about the Minbari to risk such a thing.  
"How is your sister?" Grenville suddenly asked.  
"Ambassador?"  
"Your sister, she is well?"  
"Yes." He said, a little mystified. "She is well, thank you."  
"But she didn't want to attend this meeting and talk about the _Persephone_?"  
"I'm afraid she has other duties." Sha'dur replied. "But I do know she regrets the loss of the ship and considers its crew among the finest crews she has yet seen."  
Ironically he was telling the truth, Jha'dur had found respect for that crew and it had set a seed of doubt in her mind when it came to humanity. If all humans fought that well she was in no mood to antagonise them. Gar'shan had agreed and pushed for this treaty ahead of schedule.  
"My government is considering whether or not to indict her on criminal charges for the incident." Sheridan noted gravely.  
"As I mentioned, the responsibility rested with the leader of the Vanguard fleet, he was not under orders from above." Sha'dur was lying of course, the squadron commander had been told to destroy everything in the system regardless of its origin.  
"Our compensation offer was most generous, and it still stands." Len'char added, now calmed down. "We do regret this incident occurred, and wish to avoid a repeat in the future."

Grenville nodded slowly. "Well then, I think we have something in common. I suggest a short break, then we can begin discussing this in greater detail."  
"As you wish Ambassador." Len'char said, trying not to look at his second, who just found it amusing.  
"You have quarters set up immediately adjacent, we will meet again in fifteen minutes." Grenville stood. "After you, gentlemen."  
The group went it's separate ways, with the Dilgar in one room and the two humans in another, waiting for them inside were the base commander and the two EIA agents dispatched to help the negotiators.  
"Anything to report gentlemen?" Grenville asked the two young men.  
"Not a whole lot sir." Agent Clark replied. Although he wasn't in favour with EIA Director Durban after metaphorically nailing his colours to Secretary Brogan's mast who was a political rival to Durban and many others, Clark still possessed a good deal of knowledge regarding the Dilgar and was still an important part of the EIA.  
However as more and more was learned and a greater priority was placed on this alien race his unique position was shifting and the EIA was creating more Dilgar experts, foremost among them was Francis O'Leary, Durban's little protégé. Clark was feeling somewhat resentful towards the young man, he knew a replacement when he saw one, but Clark knew his future lay with Brogan and the government he was going to create during the next term, and Clark appreciated the long term rewards due to come his way. This negotiation was of interest to the President and Director Durban, but through Clark it would also come to Brogan, just like the fate of the Spectre on Earth had.  
"We've identified Sha'dur as one of the progressives, a small group in the Dilgar who favour a more direct way of governing and warfare. Most consider them radicals but they have a lot of influence at the top." The second man reported. Francis was still extremely shaken from his recent experience but Durban believed the best way to handle the emotions was to keep busy and then relax when he had some perspective. "From what we can glean from Dilgar information broadcasts and communication intercepts the leader, Len'char, is a conservative and opposed to the new ideas. These two don't get on, and if you examine their facial expressions you can see Sha'dur enjoying his comrades discomfort."  
"Great bunch." Grenville huffed. "Even at war they don't get on with each other."  
"We should try and exploit this," Mused Sheridan. "Raise point's they'll disagree on. If we get them mad with each other something useful might slip through."  
"Give them ten minutes." Grenville said. "Let them go over their performance and get even more bitter about it, then we'll continue. We want them divided when we drop the big questions."  
"Which questions?" Clark asked.  
"Their future intentions for this part of space and the Earth Alliance." Sheridan asked. "Hopefully by the time we ask they'll be too divided to lie convincingly."  
"Also my superiors should have evidence of Dilgar atrocities by then." Francis added. "Something else to trip them up on."  
"Good." Grenville rubbed his hands together with a grin. "Anyone for tea?"

Krish System

Paul's eyes were locked firmly on the digital clock counting down the seconds until they were in position, the red bars flashing and twisting around their linear shapes as the forward windows filled with the still breathtaking blue and white world.  
"What do we know about the Krish?" Toby asked. "I mean are they good guys?"  
"I don't know." Jors shrugged. "Never really met one. Guess I never will now."  
"You still might." Jenny said in correction.  
"No we won't." Paul said flatly. "The Dilgar own this place, it's a death sentence."  
"These people were part of the League." Observed Toby. "By now the League should be reacting, preparing to counter attack and liberate these places?"  
"They can't even save themselves, they don't stand a chance actually counter attacking the Dilgar." Paul shook his head. "The League had turned into a joke, the Dilgar were the punch line."  
Jenny had never seen Paul like this, his every word and move done with such bitterness. He was blaming the League for it's failure to stand up to the Dilgar, as if he thought a united group would have made a difference. She considered that it might have done, but given the effectiveness of Dilgar warships and their radical new tactics it could have just killed the League fleets that much faster.  
"If the Cascor, Vree and Markab united they could still win this." She stated. "Especially if they co-ordinate with the Drazi."  
"They were always just supporters of the League in name." Paul dismissed. "They never really took part. The only powers that truly believed in a League or worlds are gone now, either dead or dying with a fleet of Dilgar ships ready to deliver the killing stroke. This war was lost before it started."  
"They've been driven back before." Jors pointed out. "The Dilgar can be beaten."  
"They just come back stronger and madder. You can't stop a fanatic, and the Dilgar are all fanatics." Paul snorted. "Especially that one." He gestured at the fleet on the sensor display.  
"Jha'dur is no fanatic." Jenny replied. "Fanatics are out of control, they just do as they're told. That Warmaster is too smart to be out of control. Ice cold."  
"She's insane." Toby added.  
"Not by a long shot." Jenny disagreed. "That one knows exactly what she's doing."  
"Wiping out whole planets is not sane." Jors sided with Toby. "How can it be?"  
"It's war, total and complete." Jenny explained. "To the Dilgar everyone is an enemy, so they all die. Whole worlds, so they don't have to garrison them and weaken their front lines."  
"Genocide." Paul said.  
"Yeah." Jenny agreed. "But for the Dilgar it's a necessity."  
"It's never necessary." Jors said. "Not even for them."

Before Jenny could continue the timer warned them they were approaching their target. She had spent a lot of time trying to think like a Dilgar to better predict their strategy and plan for future covert operations, and it had not been pleasant. The Dilgar conduct was logical in a cold and detached way, but when she saw smuggled out footage of Dilgar soldiers revelling in slaughter and enjoying the act of killing, it had shaken even her hardened nerves.  
"Stations." Paul ordered. "Jors, use thrusters to make final course alterations."  
The angular ship tilted in space, small jets of white pushing it into position for a sling shot around Krish itself. As they approached closer more and more of the planets story unfolded. Pieces of wreckage bounced of the hull clattering like rain on a tin roof growing more and more intense as the _Race_ drew in closer to the planet. The shattered remains of a civilian spaceport still hung in orbit surrounded by twisted shards and twisted remnants of freighters and shuttles that had sought sanctuary there.  
Below the planet was scarred with areas of brown and grey, dust clouds visible even from this range marking out where weapons of mass destruction had been used days earlier on major population centres. From afar it was a beautiful world, but as they examined it closer Krish was a graveyard.  
"Beginning sensor sweep." Jenny said in a subdued voice. The high powered devices penetrated the dust clouds and surveyed the cities and land below, sampling the air content and recording particulate matter high in the planets atmosphere. It checked radiation levels, airborne virus' and ambient temperature. All the clues needed to see what had happened here, as if the pillars of smoke were not enough for them.  
"They used Mass Drivers." Paul said. "They had to."  
"Nothing else can do that to a planet." Jors agreed. "It would have been quick."  
"Doesn't make up for being dead." The Captain grunted.  
They watched in a trance as the ship performed a fast orbit of the planet, trying to imagine what it was like down there.  
"I'm still seeing a lot of life signs." Jenny reported. "But the Dilgar gave this place a real working over. No sign of planetary defences, it was just target practice."  
"No warships, no weapons. This world was no threat to the Dilgar." Paul remarked. "But they still attacked and killed countless millions. Makes me sick."  
"I've got everything we need." Jenny reported. "We can go, it's proof of Dilgar atrocities, solid undeniable proof."  
"Jors, break orbit." Paul said. "Slingshot us out to the _Delphi_."  
The thrusters fired again pushing the ship into place, so far they hadn't needed the main engines and so apparently hadn't been noticed. They had gathered a fair amount of speed by now and would be at the rendezvous in less than an hour at the current speed. They crossed the area of thickest debris and began coasting through the system away from the Dilgar fleet and the chaos left behind them.

"You know that is a lot of ships." Toby frowned. "Two full fleets you say?"  
"Two over strength strike fleets." Jenny confirmed. "Probably a fifth to a quarter of the whole Dilgar Navy if the intel was right. Major gathering."  
"Someone's going to get their butt's kicked." Jors stated. "That's an invasion fleet if ever I saw one."  
"Probably Cascor or Ipsha, those are the closest powers to this system." Paul said absently. "More Lambs to the slaughter."  
Jenny took a moment longer to look over the fleet listings. "The other fleet is run by Jha'dur's brother you know. Twins."  
"There are two of them?" Toby scoffed. "Bet they were fun to teach in school."  
"Dilgar news is always talking about them, but most of it is propaganda." Jenny shrugged "We're trying to find out her real story, but without a source on Omelos it's a hard job."  
"Guys." Jors interrupted. "Better look at this."  
"What is it?" Paul sat up, senses going on alert.  
"Dilgar fighter patrol." Toby checked his sensor screen. "Full squadron, heading this way."  
"Make that two squadrons." Jenny added. "Starboard side low, Port side high."  
"There aren't supposed to be patrols in this sector."  
"No sir." Jenny agreed. "And it's too strong for just a patrol force, somebody sent them specifically for us."  
"That's confirmed, they're on a direct intercept course. We've got a minute." Toby warned.  
"Our cover's gone." Paul grunted. "Smart old witch found us out."  
"How?" Toby demanded. "We didn't do anything!"  
"She must have remembered us from Tirrith." Jenny guessed. "This ship is pretty unique, she must have spotted us and sent these guys to bring us in."  
"They want us alive?" Jors asked with a hint of trepidation.  
"If they wanted us dead they'd have sent a cruiser to use us for target practice." Paul replied. "No, it's too late now. Bring engines online, full power. Standby on defence grid, but don't activate weapons until they're right on top of us. Lets keep our cards close for now."  
With a low hum the _Space Race_ powered up and began to accelerate, instantly the Dilgar fighters increased their own speed and closed in. They were still moving away from the main fleet and towards the hidden Earth Force ship, but they weren't going to make it remotely soon enough.  
"Enemy fighters in range." Toby reported. "They're locking on."  
"Jenny." Paul barked. "Let 'em have it."

Ari'shan was glad to be back in a fighter, for a brief time he had considered that those days were gone but Warmaster Jha'dur had other ideas. He was now assigned to her fleet and was in the process of transferring over his squadron when he had been contacted by the Warmaster with this mission. As his squadron was still in transit he had been given two fresh squadrons to command for this particular operation and told to disable and detain a renegade freighter crossing the system.  
His wing mates were new, barely out of the academy but displayed reasonable coordination and flying ability, hopefully they were capable of handling one small freighter.  
"Very well Daggers two and three," he spoke on the network. "Move in and engage, fire on the engines only. Everyone else observe and prepare critique."  
Two of the Thoruns broke formation and swooped in while the remainder held their distance and watched the angular freighter vainly trying to outrun the Dilgar fighters. They lined up on the blocky engine structure and locked on their weapons.  
"Pay attention." Ari'shan continued his lecture. "We know the ship is armed but Two and Three are failing to take evasive action. Never fly straight and level in a battle for more than three seconds."  
In that moment every threat warning system in his fighter lit up, driving away all thoughts of educating these new pilots and replacing them with the need to get the hell out of trouble.  
"Break off!" he yelled, yanking his own controls to spin away from the rapidly arming freighter. "Evasive action, all craft break and run now!"  
For all the bravado the Dilgar News service broadcast the Dilgar were not stupid and recognized that running away in order to preserve valuable assets was a vital piece of military training. It was nice to believe the Dilgar would rather die than give ground, bit it was no more than a myth to rouse the public. Ari'shan's pilots reacted in an instant, scattering in completely different directions and blossoming out in order to split the expected defensive fire. They had no idea why the freighter should suddenly be so well armed, but those mysteries could wait until after they had finished trying to stay alive.  
The small particle cannons on the freighter registered a huge energy increase, far more than was normal for such weapons as they rapidly tracked the retreating Dilgar fighters. Ari'shan's warning signals coalesced into one long tone as the enemy weapons reached their final charging stage and began to fire.  
The closest two fighters that had been angling in on the engines vanished with the first two shot, both rounds hitting perfectly right in the centre of the Thoruns tearing them to pieces. The weapons were firing much faster and with much greater accuracy than conventional low grade weapons, and an instant later three more fighters that should have been safely out of effective range were also transformed into super hot gas and shards.  
Ari'shan rolled hard to port, flipping the fighter on every axis as four energy bolts raced for him. He saved his final most violent piece of flying until the bolts were almost on him, barely taking time to rejoice in the huge test this surprise was for his skill as he gauged the distance to the projectiles by sight alone. He redlined the retro thrusters and changed direction completely, reversing his course and suffering massive G-forces in the process that threatened his consciousness. The blue bolts grazed past a few feet from his canopy, close enough to heat the outer hull of the dart fighter before disappearing into the distance.  
"Reform!" he ordered, noticing six fighters were no longer on his sensor readouts. "Assume attack Formation Eight."  
"Sir," a voice replied. "Sir, we don't know what that formation is."  
He paused. "What formations do you know?"  
"None sir."  
Ari'shan shook his head, wondering exactly what the academy was teaching its new pilots. "Alright, just follow me, and stay mobile." He said. "Stick to me like glue."

"That's six." Toby confirmed with a grin.  
"Nice shooting Jen." Paul was also smiling, glad to see the Dilgar taking a beating for a change.  
"Not so fast, we still have eighteen fighters out there." Jenny cautioned. "They're coming back."  
"Jors, hold course. Best possible speed. Jenny, I'll leave it up to you haw to handle them."  
"Thanks." She muttered and aligned the range finders. "Jors, can you be ready to bank to starboard and open up the lower weapon arcs?"  
"Ready." The Swedish pilot confirmed.  
She held her breath a few more seconds as the Thoruns raced in, keeping a looser formation this time and performing evasive action. Fortunately for her the tracking systems for the interceptors were designed to correct their aim and predict any evasive action an enemy may attempt and put a spread of rounds up to cover any possible path. The bolts travelled so fast they usually took out the enemy before they could pull a particularly tight evasive manoeuvre though there were always exceptional pilots who somehow managed it.  
"Now Jors! Hit it!"  
The pilot locked the controls hard to starboard throwing the ship into a spin that pressed the crew flat into their chairs, the restraints automatically tightening to keep them secure. The hull bracings groaned and complained at the immense strain being put on them, the stars spun in front of the window and a series of alarms warned of excessive hull stress and thrusters overheating. The old _Space Race_ would have broken up under such a turn, but with its rebuilt hull and military grade alloys the improved _Race_ was just about handling it, slewing right into place to oppose the incoming squadrons.  
The turn caught the Dilgar by surprise, they had twice underestimated the freighter and were going to keep paying for it. Jenny had a perfect shot as the Thoruns reacted too slowly and only just began to break formation as the interceptors locked on. She couldn't keep the faint predators smile from her lips as she depressed the firing button and opened up with half a dozen turrets, as much point defence fire as an average sized corvette, and watched Dilgar fighters burn.

White and blue energy traced the dark in short sharp bursts, the not so innocent looking freighter firing again with enough weapons to gun down five squadrons, Ari'shan's rookies didn't stand a chance. The first four died quick, the particle bolts unerring in their precision striking dead centre on the Thorun's hulls. Two of the fighters held their course and fired upon the freighter, their cannons doing nothing but glancing off the dirty grey armoured hull and attracting the ships attention and allowing it to accrue two more Dilgar kills.  
"Get out of here! Full power!" he yelled to the squadron. "Just go!"  
The surviving Dart fighters put every ounce of power into their engines, the ion thrusters blasting out blue and purple spikes of exhaust as they lurched away in all directions to escape the rapid fire defence grid. It didn't make much difference, the turrets twisted and elevated with remarkable speed, keeping their muzzles on the fleeing fighters and churning out round after round towards the Dilgar. Fighter after fighter flashed briefly as it was hit, twisted wreckage fluttering like falling blossom in a hurricane.  
Finally they made it out of range, a spluttering engine spinning past Ari'shan's canopy as it expended the last of its fuel, the rest of the fighter following behind in a cloud of pieces.  
"Report status." He ordered, trying to keep the pilots focused. "Check your displays, how many of you can still fight?"  
Beside himself three fighters had made it to a safe distance, which meant the human freighter had sent twenty pilots to their callings in the next world. It had deceived him, it had hurt his squadron and it was still getting away without a scratch. This made Ari'shan furiously angry but he had to maintain control. He had to admit a grudging respect for the effectiveness of the system and its crews sheer audacity sneaking in between the biggest gathering of Dilgar warships to date, but they had still hidden themselves and used guile instead of engaging in a straight fight, and that offended his sensibilities.  
The three fighters checked in, all operational. "Orders sir?"  
"We hold here." Ari'shan said. "Attacking that is suicide for fighters. I'm requesting warship support."  
"I can take it." Dagger Eleven said. "Cover me."  
"I said hold." Ari'shan snapped.  
But the fighter was already on the move, four missiles held under its wing.  
"I won't get close." The errant fighter replied. "Just enough so they can't stop these."  
The Thorun blasted ahead for a few seconds, then unleashed all four missiles in a ripple volley before breaking away. "Nuclear warheads away."  
"Nuclear weapons!" Ari'shan exclaimed. "You idiot, the Warmaster wanted them alive!"  
Utter silence reigned in Dagger Eleven's cockpit.  
"I'll let you tell Jha'dur why you disobeyed two direct orders." He said. "You better pray she's in a good mood."

"Now that was just a joy to watch." Paul congratulated. "I love this little ship, did I mention that?"  
"She was born again bad ass." Toby laughed. "I bet those cats never knew what hit them!"  
Jenny smiled along, but while it was a hell of a victory for the venerable freighter she had to remind herself they were celebrating the deaths of twenty people. Sure they were Dilgar, and sure she'd do the same thing again in a heart beat, but she was a trained soldier and Special Forces operative where killing was just a mundane task like setting up a tent or cleaning her uniform. She held no passion for it, just a skill, and certainly didn't rejoice in death. Especially not after having to kill her former friend and more recently Traitor to Earth, Agent Leung. It worried her that her friends felt joy at killing these Dilgar and didn't really understand what that meant. Although it worried her even more that they did understand and celebrated anyway, and that was beginning to look true of Paul.  
"They're breaking away." She reported. "Probably calling in backup as we speak."  
"Let's hope we're clear by then." Paul said. "I doubt they can move fast enough to run us down."  
"Uh oh." Toby stated with ominous foreboding, earning him a glare from Paul.  
"How many more times, don't say that!"  
"One of those fighters fired something our way, missiles."  
"Jenny?" Paul turned to look at her, wondering what her more accurate sensors said.  
"Nukes." She reported blankly. "Four nukes coming in fast!"  
"Shoot them down!" he ordered.  
"I'll try but I'm not that good." She was already locking the interceptors on. "These guns are ageneration out of date, I couldn't get the latest models!"  
"Jors, drop the hammer, everything we've got." Paul ordered quickly. "Full emergency thrust and standby evasive, Toby, counter measures. Drop two screens now and standby on noise makers."  
The engines blazed as the _Race_ shot forward, interceptors working on full efficiency. It allowed them to fire much larger bolts increasing the chance of a hit but put massive strain on the capacitors, they had less than thirty seconds before they burned out. Of course they only had fifteen until the missiles hit, so if they missed fried capacitors would be the least of their problems.  
"Countermeasures away!" Toby reported. "Second batch ready!"  
"Ten seconds!" Jenny called. "This isn't going to be fun!"  
Two spheres fell from the _Race_ and burs topen in a black cloud. On the surface it looked like simple black smoke but in fact contained a wide number of particles and compounds designed to deflect and break up sensor returns across a wide range of systems, with the black colouring helpfully blocking out visual scans. One missile was decoyed, streaking off into the far distance but the other three were smarter, two carried on clean through the cloud and reacquired the freighter on the other side, and the third popped up over the cloud and continued on.  
"They're still with us!" Jenny warned. It had bought them some time but not much.  
"Jors, standby evasive starboard." Paul spoke with abstract calm. "Toby, I want countermeasures fired to port."  
The guns chugged, miraculously bringing down the closest wildly swinging missile. It exploded briefly in a flash of fuel but nothing else, the warheads designed to arm only when right on top of their targets to minimaise the risk to friendly units and neighbouring missiles. This meant the other two rushed on without impediment.  
"Five seconds!"  
"Hold steady." Paul intoned. "Steady."  
Jenny caught another missile, but she wasn't going to get the final one, it was coming in too fast even for her interceptors. "This is it!"  
"Now!" Paul yelled.  
In that moment Jors threw the ship into a ninety degree turn, the sort of spin a Starfury pilot would envy before putting everything that was left into the engines. In the same instant Toby fired the second countermeasures from their launchers, small missiles that broadcast a powerful false sensor image designed to overpower a missiles guidance system and decoy the incoming weapons after what appeared to be the real target while letting the ship itself reach a safe distance.  
It worked, the Dilgar missile followed the decoys but by now it was travelling at an extremely high speed catching up to the decoy in seconds. They were designed to lure enemy weapons a hundred miles away from the friendly ship, this one made it to just twenty.

Jenny had never been caught in a nuclear explosion before, she'd sent plenty on videos in her training, even talked to an older Earth Force Captain who had taken a ship up against the Ch'Lonas and skimmed a multi megaton blast, but this was something different. There was a bright flash, intense but not nearly as impressive as she might have expected. With no air there was no mushroom cloud or blast wave, but there was enough energy put out to reach the freighter and flash boil the outer layer from the port side hull.  
The effects of losing several tons of metal threw the ship hard to the side, bending the reinforced bulkheads and opening up a score of minor breaches throughout the ship. The EMP from the detonation shorted out the more sensitive systems including the advanced sensors and the pinpoint trackers on the interceptors, for a few seconds the flight deck went dark before back up supplies kicked in.  
"Main reactor safe!" Jors called. "Engines are still on line!" he sounded genuinely surprised. "And we're still making full speed!"  
"You mean we're still flying? Nothing blew up?" Toby was equally surprised.  
"Nothing vital." Jenny confirmed. "We're armed and mobile."  
"I love this ship." Paul slapped his chair arm. "We rode out a nuke!"  
"Yeah, but my lunch almost didn't." Jors added. "Remind me not to eat before a job in the future."  
"Long range sensors are out, but I can still detect those fighters." Jenny reported, getting back to business. "They're shadowing us but keeping their distance."  
"Smart move." Paul grinned. "By the time they catch up we'll be long gone and they'll be none the wiser. Keep us at full power."  
It was Toby again who broke the mood. "I don't want to say it, and I won't say it."  
"Say what?"  
"We've got trouble. Again."  
A shape appeared at the edge of the sensors, something noticeably bigger than the _Space Race_ and moving fast to cut them off.  
"Dilgar Warship." Jenny said with an even tone, years of training and practice suppressing the panic she felt. "_Jashakar_ class Frigate."  
"Can it catch us before we meet the _Delphi_?" Paul asked.  
"Yeah." Jenny confirmed. "And it's packing enough weaponry to out gun the _Delphi_ if they meet, we were still outfitting her when this mission came up and we never finished."  
Eventually the new EIA Jump ship would have a whole arsenal of surprises, but they were still gathering the necessary plasma cannons and missiles, right now she had a solid interceptor grid and some light guns, enough to stop fighters but not much else.  
"We can't risk the _Delphi_." Paul said firmly. "We'll handle this ourselves."  
"What?" Toby spluttered. "How? By showering them with our smashed ship and dead bodies?"  
"He's right Chief." Jors added. "This is a warship we're talking about, a real one."  
"One of Jha'dur's personal fleet." Jenny also threw in some thoughts "They're not going to be fools."  
"We have one more surprise." Paul smiled. "The gun pods."  
"That's officially insane." Toby snapped. "Even if we had nukes we're still a freighter! They'll waste us the second they spot trouble!"  
"Which is why the powers that be gave us interceptors." Paul replied. "Jenny, are they still working?"  
"Enough." She confirmed. "But targeting got screwed by that blast, I can't gurantee we'll stop them all if the range gets too close."  
"It'll have to do." Paul considered. "We need to get close, real close. This is going to be hard, but lets hope they want us alive. That gives us an opportunity to hit them hard and hit them first. You with me?"  
Despite their doubts there was never going to be any hesitation.  
"All the way." Jenny stated with a smile. "Even if you are crazy."  
"Well, I just got comfortable in this chair." Jors nodded.  
"I guess it'll make a hell of a story." Toby provided a lopsided grin. "And it'd be worth it just to guess at Jha'dur's expression."  
Paul grinned at that. "It sure would. Okay, throttle back, make it look like that nuke hurt us worse then it did, we lure them in and then drop the hammer."

Ari'shan had no way to wipe the smile from his face, despite everything he was actually pleased that the ship was still alive if apparently crippled. In part he was glad that Jha'dur would not fly into one of her rare angers at having the crew killed, now capture was a possibility once again, but mostly he was just impressed by the skill and luck these humans were displaying. They had been underhanded getting here but were now proving worthy adversaries. It would be an honour to present them to Jha'dur, and hopefully she would heed his recommendation and treat them better than she handled most captives.  
"Dagger unit." He spoke to his remaining wing mates. "I want you to hold here, I'm going to check out that ship."  
"Sir,that might not be wise." Dagger four cautioned. "With respect." She quickly added.  
"So noted." He confirmed. "But I've seen what they can do, I am ready to face them. Stay here, if they are defenceless you can help me disable them for the Frigate to pick up. If not then I can escape danger and retreat. That is all."  
He opened the throttles and closed in, setting a long curving path to the freighter which kept him at a distance until the last few moments. He had seen the interceptors and recognized them from the battle footage Jha'dur had shown him from the _Persephone_. The ones on the warship had better range and more raw power but the rate of fire and accuracy were no different, an exceptionally dangerous system but he was confidant he could evade their attack at medium to long range.  
He spotted the Frigate on sensors closing in and noticed the freighter was altering course to avoid it, but it wasn't going to be able to outrun it. The dedicated warship had engines that probably outmassed the whole freighter, it was about three times larger overall and packed a lot of firepower onto it's Frigate scale hull. The Dilgar liked to make sure even the smallest ship had teeth, and this one was no exception.  
"Squadron Leader Ari'shan to Frigate, respond."  
After a few moments a cold voice returned his call. "Combat Captain Lar'cas, Frigate _Bow Blade_ responding."  
"Captain, I have orders from the Warmaster this ship is to be taken with minimum damage."  
"Those are our orders too." The Captain confirmed. "The Warmaster want's them alive." He grunted. "It would be more merciful just to kill them, but the orders stand."  
"I'm shadowing the freighter, she has taken heavy damage to the port side and seems to be running at low power."  
"Our sensors agree." Lar'cas spoke distantly, as if this mission were somewhat beneath him. "We're coming up on their damaged side to make breaching easier."  
"I'll watch for escape pods or shuttles." Ari'shan stated. "They won't be escaping, but they might try something else."  
"We're ready for them."  
"Twenty dead officers thought the same. Be cautious."  
"We can handle this." The Captain dismissed. "We appreciate your company, this will be over in a minute."  
Ari'shan hoped the Captain's confidence was well placed, but armed weapons and kept his hand on the throttle just in case the humans had another surprise.

"They're going to try and board us." Jenny watched the Frigate getting closer. "They've got a boarding tube, if they follow procedure they'll knock out our engines first, then grapple us and extend the tube."  
"But they need to get closer for a clean hit." Paul said. "For all they know we're just a regular freighter with better guns, one near miss and they could shred our hull and blow a fuel tank."  
"I guess so." She checked out the lone Thorun to Starboard, the same one that had avoided two barrages of interceptor bolts. "They need to get close to board anyway, I expect they won't shoot until they're ready to latch on."  
"Problem will be the gun pods." Jors said. "It takes thirty seconds for them to go hot, and while they're powering up everyone in the system is going to know what we're planning."  
"And it'll take less time than that to waste us." Toby pointed out. "Even with the armour."  
The two gun pods mounted left and right on the central core of the ship came straight from the Belt Alliance armoury, each one packed a medium plasma cannon and eight missiles designed to give raider ships a very nasty surprise. They had a fairly stealthy hull material and a sensor jammer designed to broadcast the appearance of regular cargo in the pod to enhance the illusion and draw in their enemies to a point they couldn't escape from.  
There were however three disadvantages to the pods, first they had limited arcs, second they had limited ammunition. Each plasma cannon was fed from a high intensity battery also housed in the pod, which had the advantage of making it self sufficient to a point where they could be detached from a fleeing ship and still function, but had the disadvantage of allowing just five rounds to be fired. A warship would draw its firepower from it's main reactors and as long as it had fuel could shoot all day, but with smaller reactors and less reaction mass no freighter could realistically mount a sustained barrage so had to use batteries. Each blast was equal to a main turret on a _Hyperion_ class cruiser which was a hell of a kick, but a cruiser could go through five round sin two or three seconds, the _Race_ was going to have to make every shot count.  
The third problem was charging time. The battery took thirty seconds to feed the capacitors and create plasma for the gun to fire, and in that time there would be no mistake what was happening. Against slow moving Raider ships it was no great problem but against a real warship, and a Dilgar one at that, it could get messy.  
"I'm trusting you to keep the interceptors working." Paul said to Jeny with sincerity. "I don't know how many hits we can take, but none at all would be good. We just fixed her up, and the old girl's already suffered enough today."  
"I'll do what I can."  
"Frigate is almost on us, less than thirty miles." Toby said. "It's arming weapons."  
"Try some evasive action." Paul said. "make it look good."  
"Frigate matching speed." Toby was glued to the sensors. "She's cutting engines, firing retros. Speed matched. Energy spike!"  
"Jenny?"  
"Let them try." She said grimly, then brought interceptors to full readiness and started the plasma cannon arming sequence.

Ari'shan sensed the trap long before the weapons reactivated, he knew they weren't going to go quietly and were bound to try something else. The power readings went back up to full, the defences locked on and most disturbing of all an entirely new weapon signature began building in the middle of the ship.  
"Captain, get some distance!" He called, but apparently Lar'cas had seen the same thing and was increasing power to engines, an instant later the Frigate opened fire.  
From his vantage point Ari'shan could see the bolter cannons running into interceptor rounds, the range was so close the freighter was barely stopping them, some just a dozen yards from the hull, but as close as it was the little freighter was holding it's own and putting power into it's own engines to stay with the Frigate. The sight was remarkable, a warship of the Imperium was actually being chased be a freighter a third of its size. Jha'dur had been right, these people were worth talking to, but only if they were stopped.  
He dropped the Dart fighters nose and barrelled in, with the interceptors busy no defensive fre rose up to meet him and he had a clear path to the ship. He guessed he had two options, the engines or the guns which he could attack. The guns were the most tempting target, they were distracted and very dangerous but taking them out would allow the Frigates guns to hit the Freighter, and in their current full attack mode they could tear the ship apart before Lar'cas could order a ceasefire. He angled on the engines, if he could slow the ship down or disable it himself the Frigate could withdraw and come back more carefully.  
The freighter was really pouring on the power now, far more than a regular ship it's size but after what he'd seen Ari'shan was not surprised. Getting in right behind the engines was not a good idea, the bright blue Ion trails were hundreds of metres long as the vessel matched speeds with the Frigate. It was gradually getting further away, it's superior military engines giving it an edge but not enough.  
He matched speed and twisted the fighters nose, travelling alongside the freighter but facing its engine assembly. With a last look at the weapons to make sure they were still busy he started firing, the first rounds doing virtually nothing to the armour. He perservered, hitting the same spot again and again waiting for a chink to open. Absently he wished for a couple of anti ship missiles, but using autonomous weapons went against his philosophy of decided battles by skill, not simple button pushing, so he would finish this the hard way.

The _Space Race_ jolted with another rimpact.  
"Would somebody swat that little mosquito?" Toby demanded.  
"We need the guns to hold off the Frigate." Paul replied evenly. "Let Jenny work, we're almost there."  
One of the particle bolts finally penetrated the defences hitting the top most sensor pod, fifty million credits worth of sensors vanished in a blink, the pod left looking like a partially opened rose with steel petals. Paul grimaced, but his ship was undamaged and just about ready to hit back.  
"We're up!" Jenny yelled. "Main guns ready, missiles fuelled!"  
"Hard about, line us up and open fire!" Paul lost his cool finally, the excitement ruling him now. He was going one on one with a Dilgar ship far bigger than his little freighter and he had them right where he wanted them. "Take them out!"  
The _Race_ altered course to broadside the Frigate, the range had opened somewhat but they were still close enough for the Plasma cannons to do full damage without radiated much energy into space. Explosive bolts blew away the panels to the gun pod an the starboard side, the sheets of metal spinning away and clearing the line of fire for the big gun. The simple black barrelled cannon made a last adjustment, four missiles on either side venting gas as they too prepared final ignition, and then Jenny hit the control.  
The _Race_ was not built with military grade cannons in mind, and as the cannon fired the freighter shuddered from the recoil with each shot shaving a percentage off it's velocity. Green balls of plasma crossed the gap in no time, tearing into the relatively thin armour of the Dilgar warship and causing massive internal damage. The engines took the first hit, the blindingly hot Earth produced material knocking out the two closest thrusters as it burned its way from the outside in.  
Unfortunately the recoil had also had also changed the _Race's_ axis throwing off the aim of the main gun, the next two rounds missed by a few feet while the thirs barely scored the lower hull, a great molten gash running the length of the ship. With three of the priceless shots squandered Jenny had to make the last one count. She made a last minute adjustment, then fired one last time. The green shot struck the closest side on the Dilgar ship, travelling along its length and shearing off almost its entire port side as it a guillotine had invisibly severed the green hull. Several hundred tons worth of metal fell away taking an entire gun turret with it, gas billowed into space flaring briefly as it burned out in the cold.

"That got him!" Toby cried out in exultation. "He's losing power, engines going down, he's switching weapons from defense to offense."  
"He's going to try and take us with him." Paul noted. "But if he's switched all power from point defences to his main guns it gives us an opening. Jenny, missiles."  
With the plasma cannon expended the antiship missiles were the _Races_ remaining heavy weapons. They had been pre-fuelled and armed meaning all Jenny had to do was launch them. The missiles were standard short range single stage dual warhead devices commonly used on Corvettes and other escort ships coming in at about twenty metres in length, half the size of capital ship missiles and a quarter the size of those used on dedicated Missile ships and fixed defenses. They tended to travel quite slow and with point defenses the Dilgar ship would have been able to shoot them down quite easily, but right now the ship had no defenses and was extremely vulnerable.  
The clamps holding the weapons in place and with a push from the EM launch rails the missiles sailed away, the engines igniting in blue flame a moment after they cleared the _Space Race's_ side. The eight missiles split up and drove in from different directions taking evasive action despite the lack of small weapons fire coming up from the Frigate. "Lar'cas had realised his mistake and was re-routing power to his pulsar turrets, but it was going to be too little too late.  
The missiles entered their terminal phase, the guidance systems linked to each other timed the approach so all eight hit at the same time in a sequence designed to split open the Dilgar hull with the first missiles and then gut the inside with the last few. The lead missile struck the already weakened section of the Frigate, it was designed like most Earth Force anti ship missiles with two warheads, the first was an intense plasma charge that explode don impact. Its job was to fire a jet of plasma through an enemy hull and burn through to create a channel for the larger secondary warhead to pass through and then explode itself under the armour. On a regular missile that secondary warhead would be a nuclear device ranging from a hundredth of a kiloton right up to tens of megatons, Earth knew area affect explosions in space were not the most efficient use of nuclear weapons, but if it could get a warhead to explode inside a target then even a tiny nuke would be more than enough to completely destroy an enemy cruiser.  
For all Jenny's influence and for all Director Durban's insistence there was no way Earth Force was going to give nuclear weapons to civilians, they would turn a blind eye to old interceptors but not multi megaton missiles. The _Race's_ missiles therefore had a conventional explosive warhead, but still the most powerful the EIA could convince the Navy to part with. It might not be enough for a cruiser, but the eight of them were more than sufficient for a Frigate.  
The first four missiles bored in and exploded, splitting the green hull open and creating bulging rents and gaps across the upper surface of the ship, weakpoints that were then exploited by the last four weapons. They punched deep into the tangled innards of the Frigate and then exploded, shredding the interior and triggering secondary explosions from bow to stern. Debris and jets of coloured flames leapt away from the dissolving vessel, torn and twisted chunks of metal were catapulted away from their bulkheads as the outer skin melted away revealing skeletal girders and braces within, black lines against the white fire. Within seconds it was over, the _Bow Blade_ an emaciated blackened form surrounded by ice crystals and wreckage.  
Paul tapped his arm rests. "Did I mention I love this ship?"

Ari'shan suddenly felt extremely alone and extremely exposed. His warship support had been vanquished, his squadrons decimated and now he was alone facing a now unoccupied interceptor grid at point blank range. The danger of this situation was clear for even the simplest pilot to see, he immediately broke away and took the wildest evasive action he could think off trying to get away from the interceptors kill zone.  
The gun turrets were already rotating into place, four separate weapons tracking and locking onto his Thorun, warning alarms sounding in a dozen different tones all getting closer in tone and pitch to each other. When they merged into one identical clarion call it would mean the guns had him dead in their sights, which given the accuracy of interceptors would not end well. The Freighter didn't wait for a clean lock, it fired early taking Ari'shan by surprise, he barrel rolled the fighter as bright energy glared past strobing the instruments in his cockpit.  
The fighter was shaking as he spun it for all it was worth, his wings bending and flexing as the wing tip mounted engines pulled in opposing directions to maintain the spin, a cartwheel hurling him clear of the guns and out to safety. It almost worked. One of the rounds was on target, catching his left side wing tip engine. The heavy cylinder exploded, gouting flame and ions in all directions and throwing the already wildly spinning fighter into an even more radical manoeuvre. Ironically the sudden push probably saved Ari'shan launching him far enough away in such a random direction that the rest of the salvo missed.  
He battled to stay conscious, focusing on the controls and ignoring the disorientating stars streaking past as white lines outside. He tensed every muscle to keep his blood flowing and cut power to the damaged engine before activating the extinguishers. The flames went out but with a severed fuel line it was still jetting reactant into space which was still pushing his fighter in a sidewise direction, the black and mangled remains of the engine a tumour on the wing tip. He countered with the surviving right hand side engine, adjusting it's thrust to compensate for the loss of his left hand engine and then added power to the main centreline thrusters behind his cockpit. He could barely keep the nose straight but he had a job to do, and so with a grim visage he pointed to the where his sensors told him the human ship was and accelerated.

"We made it." Jors was grinning widely. "Crossing orbit of the target planet."  
The freighter, now restored to its shot up and blackened appearance rounded the uninhabited world and put the body of the planet between itself and the Dilgar fleet hiding from their sensor scans. The _Race_ had performed incredibly well, it's interceptors had stopped a barrage of energy weapons and made short work of two Dilgar squadrons while its hidden gun pods had destroyed a frigate. Compared to the under gunned and under powered ship of last year Paul Calendar's new home was an entirely different creature, yet still had the heart and soul of his original vessel. It was a perfect combination. Most importantly of all of course was the fact they had succeeded completely in their mission.  
"There she is." Jenny spotted. "Right on schedule."  
Holding position sheltering behind the planet was the _Delphi_, equally battered looking and ancient but in the process of being modernised. It was a sight that elicited sighs of relief all round, that ship was their only ticket home and to see it waiting patiently to save them was more rewarding that staring at the biggest pile of jewels and and gold they could imagine.  
"_Space Race,_" A voice hailed them. "What is your status?"  
"We found a little trouble." Paul admitted, not that it was anything new to this ship. "Sorry about your sensors, I hope they weren't too expensive."  
They were of course, but if the mission had been a success the EIA would gladly accept the cost as casualties of war. "Did you accomplish the mission before you lost the sensors?"  
"We got everything." Paul smiled. "Undeniable proof the Dilgar are using weapons of mass destruction against completely defenceless civilians, including biological weapons."  
"Excellent work." The _Delphi_ officer sounded genuinely pleased. "We're preparing to jump now."  
"This is it." Paul said confidently. "All Earth needs to finally do something about the Dilgar."  
Jenny shook her head. "Maybe, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."  
"They're murdering billions of people." He returned. "And we have the proof, Earth has to intervene to stop this!"  
"And I hope they do." Jenny said. "But just don't count on it."  
"It's the right thing to do, you know what the Dilgar are like."  
"I know." She remembered her encounter in Geneva and shuddered imperceptibly. "I know, but that isn't how Governments work. It is morally the right thing to do, and Ihope they do something, but I just can't see them sending in the Marines for something happening so far away. I'm sorry."  
Paul looked visibly upset. "Somethings going to have to be done about this, I don't know what but it had better happen. The Dilgar have to be stopped."  
Jenny agreed, she felt as strongly about it as any human. But there was a part of her which questioned whether that was even possible, so far nothing had stopped the Dilgar and she wasn't sure if anything ever would.

The four Thoruns thundered around the planet, Ari'shan's plane reverberating with the exertions of the engines being pushed beyond limits. With a full functional fighter he had been little more than a plaything for the Earth ship, in his current state he was doomed, as were the three rookies with him. However meeting their ends at the guns of an enemy was a better choice than going home and telling Jha'dur what had happened. She wasn't the sort of Warmaster to kill people for bad luck, indeed even if they had simply tried and failed to capture this ship she probably wouldn't hold it against them unlike a lot of other senior officers who had a tendency to execute people on the spot if they failed missions. Jha'dur at least understood that sometimes circumstances were against her warriors.  
However they had not simply failed, but disobeyed an order and failed. While only one of their number had fired nuclear weapons in violation of Jha'dur's wish for prisoners the squadron would stand together when facing punishment, and although not officially a member Ari'shan would stand with them as honour demanded. This time he doubted Jha'dur would make an exception for him, she couldn't do that twice. It was probably for the best, at least this enemy was a worthy one and his death would be an honourable one.  
The flight crossed the terminator of the planet and entered orbit on the far side expecting to see the Freighter, instead they saw nothing.  
"What happened?" Dagger Eleven questioned. "Where is it?"  
"Go active on sensors." Ari'shan ordered. He watched his own stuttering display, it showed a faint ion trail and then nothing. It was as if the ship had simply vanished. The humans had been tricky, but not so much they could vanish into thin air.  
"Was there anything in the logs to suggest a jump engine on that vessel?" he demanded.  
"No sir, even in combat it didn't have enough power to run a jump engine."  
"It can't just vanish!" Eleven called. "It isn't possible!"  
And yet there was nothing to be seen, the ship was gone.  
"This is over." Ari'shan said. "Return to base, I will report to Warmaster Jha'dur in person."  
"I can't go back." Eleven said. "I can't."  
"We have nothing else to do." Ari'shan replied. "Form up, there are three cruisers heading this way to support us, we will land on them."  
"I take responsibility." The pilot stated. "Make sure the Warmaster knows that."  
He turned his fighter towards the planet and broke formation. Ari'shan did not try to stop him, nor did he begrudge the decision. He watched the Thorun accelerate rapidly pointing straight at the centre of the barren world and appreciated the act. By taking responsibility and then taking his own life the young pilot had probably saved the surviving squadron members, if Jha;dur followed tradition she would deem it an acceptable payment for the mistakes made in this conflict.  
He saluted his comrade, known only for an hour or two but long enough to finally earn his respect. Then with a final look at where the freighters ion trail stopped he turned the fighter home and pushed his ruined craft and ruined squadron back to the fleet.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 41

Chapter 44

Fleet Group One  
Cascan Commonwealth.

Tullaq brought the fighter down fast and hard, dropping down on the carrier's internal deck with a slight bounce which was bound to earn some winces from her fellow pilots. The Cascan Navy loved their fighters and there was huge competition among the ranks to get behind the controls of one of those nimble little craft, one or two mistakes like a bouncy landing would usually be enough to get a pilot reassigned, but not Tullaq.  
She was what the Cascor natives called a 'Redliner' a pilot of near supernatural skill and daring who may lack some of the graceful precision of her comrades but more than made up for it on the battlefield. She'd earned her current assignment by chasing down another of the fleets elite pilots in a race a few months earlier, at no time did she fall more than fifty yards behind the wildy twisting and turning target.  
That sort of skill and instinct had made her the logical choice for the most recent mission, a scout run to the Cascan border which had gone strangely silent. Fleet command could hazard a good guess as to why, but they needed confirmation, so they had sent Tullaq  
The doors to the wide hangar closed and pressurized, an inefficient way of launching and recovering craft but the Cascans preferred the advantage of launching or landing whole squadrons at once from their well protected flight decks buried within the hearts of their rather large and ungainly vessels. Tullaq was up and moving as soon as the lights blinked a safe orange and in minutes she had brought her nimble form up to the office of the fleet commander, Admiral Himmat.

"Enter." He ordered, and the doors parted to reveal his quarters. Like most senior Cascan officers the room was decorated with furniture and trinkets taken from Himman's tribe, all of it elegantly carved wood. As a species of forest dwellers the Cascor were most at home in wooded surroundings and insisted on taking at least a token of their forest homes with them into the stars. In the Admiral's case he had managed to procure half a dozen small trees to line his room with and an immaculately carved bed made to resemble two intertwined trees, the preferred resting place of a Cascor.  
They were small in stature, most standing around four feet tall with a rich fur covering their whole bodies from their long snouts to their bushy tails. Human traders had been incredibly surprised upon making contact with this race, hardly expected to run across these small almost cuddly little creatures. They had called them Racoons, which was a fairly accurate likeness apart from the colour patterns on the Cascor, but had come to give the Cascan nation their respect and formed a reasonably cordial friendship and trade relation.  
The Cascor were both inquisitive and adventurous, natural born explorers and amazed by the universe around them in the same way a child would be. They had proven quite popular members of the League, not harbouring the same territorial ambitions as many of their neighbours and quite content to simply live and let live. This did not however make them easy targets as the Cascor sense of risk lent itself well to their armed forces  
Cascan fighter pilots were legends in the League, their natural quick reflexes and daring nature made them nerve wracking to keep up with and very hard to stop, especially as the skilled pilots were matched with well designed fighters and strike craft. They had the best of both worlds and understood how to use their advantages wisely in battle. The fleet was built with Carriers in mind, the main offensive power of any decent Cascan force were the waves and waves of strike craft held in the bellies of the larger ships. While decent ships in their own right the Cascan capital ships tended to be slow with poor firing arcs and limited types of anti ship weaponry, in a stand up fight they weren't going to do well against an enemy like the Dilgar.  
So naturally Admiral Himmat had a plan to avoid such an even battle.

"Admiral sir." Tullaq bowed her head sharply, the rich brown fur rippling with the speed of the action. "Scouting mission complete."  
Himmat's own fur was black with a thick white stripe running down his front from nose to tail, a sign of age. Most of it was hidden beneath his brown and green uniform. "Have they arrived?"  
She nodded. "Dilgar forces have seized the colony at Zachai, none of our defence fleet survived."  
"I see." Himmat grimaced, the Colony had been in the process of evacuation but it had an unusually large population and few believed they could save them all. It had been the hardest decision of his career to withdraw the main battle fleets from that region but ultimately it wouldn't have made a difference. The Colony would still have fallen but would instead have taken a significant number of ships with it. Instead those ships had been massed into one massive battle group under his central command, a tremendous hammer of a force set up to deliver one massive crushing blow to the Dilgar.  
"I estimate over a thousand Dilgar ships." Tullaq continued. "Commanded by Deathwalker."  
Most officers would have felt weak at the knees to know that jha'dur was leading the battle against them, Himmat simply nodded and absorbed the information. "If she is leading it is likely their main thrust, any indication of other fleets?"  
"No sir." Tullaq said. "Just the supply group."  
"The supply group." Himmat repeated. "It is moving as predicted?"  
"Yes sir, taking up place in empty space away from any known jump gate."  
"And the war fleet?"  
"landing troops on Zachai when I left, they saw me but I was through the gate before they could react and engage."  
"Good work pilot." Himmat said with remarkable gravitas for so small a creature. "return to your squadron, the plan will progress as discussed."

The Cascan battle plan was a simple two stage affair. First they would hit the Dilgar supply ships, then attack Warmaster Jha'dur's fleet either at Zachai or if it responded to a distress call from the supply ships.  
"With respect Admiral," Tullaq said. "This stinks of a trap."  
Himmat paused and took a long look at the young officer, grasping and ungrasping his carefully cut and shaped claws,a relic of his species arboreal origins. "My instincts agree." He gave a wily smile. "The Deathwalker is offering us an opportunity we cannot refuse, she presents her supply ships like bait hoping we will attack, and then she seeks to strike us at a place of her choosing."  
"If you doubt the data sir, why continue with this plan?" Tullaq inquired.  
"Because while this intelligence was too convenient to be anything other than a plant there is wisdom in letting the enemy think they have us where they want us." Himmat continued. "I have no doubt the communication intercept was a plant, or if not Jha'dur at least suspects we have it and would alter her plans. She knows that we have the coordinates for her supply fleet and it's holding sector and she has planned for it."  
He chuckled, a slightly high pitched chittering sound as his needle thin teeth clattered together. "But she has not planned well enough, she expects an attack but we will surprise her. This is no simple attack, it will be a full scale offensive with every ship we can muster. Other League powers were scared of her, they sent in ships piecemeal and saw them annihilated. When we go, we go in full strength."  
"The Deathwalker's reputation is well earned Admiral."  
"Defeating fools is no challenge." Himmat scoffed, his view on the League allies was not particularly high. "The Cascor take risks and we understand that aggression is the path to victory. We spring her trap, then counter with our own and drive her fleet to ruin."  
He headed for one of the trees, taking a long moment to bask in its odour and presence. He had made a life among the stars living the great adventure, but there was still only room in his heart for the forests of his home.  
"Make sure your ship is refuelled, you will be in the first wave."  
"Yes Admiral."  
"We go when we receive final confirmation from command, I expect it within the hour."  
"So soon Admiral?"  
"Sooner we go the better, they might be expecting us to give battle, but they won't be expecting such a fleet." He grinned. "I'm going to enjoy liberating the League, especially the Brakiri."  
With a bow Tullaq left, dropping onto all fours for greater speed as she bolted for the hangar deck. Cascan pilots were constantly trying to prove their skills in contest with one another, now they would showcase them in the greatest arena of all, open war on a scale undreamt of by her people. This was the ultimate test, and Tullaq was ready to embrace it.

Dilgar First Strike Fleet  
Five Hours later.

"Calm before the storm." Jha'dur whispered to herself with a smile. "It's hard to tell how long it lasts, for some it is an eternity, for others it is gone in an instant."  
She had her eyes closed but could almost sense the activity on her flagships bridge, the red and black display screens all around, the quietly busy deck officers and controllers, and in front to the left was Captain An'jash as attentive and eager to learn as ever. Both confident in her skill, but wanting to know more. She reminded Jha'dur an awful lot of herself.  
"When I was young I lived my life in such a state, perpetually waiting for that moment of decision. Always standing on the edge but never quite mustering the courage to take one more step. Listening instead to those dark doubts from the back of your mind. Fears and anxieties born from the most guarded parts of the heart."  
An'jash remained silent, slightly taken aback by how revealing the Warmaster had been. "And now Warmaster?"  
"Now I am decided, I took the leap and I am in freefall. No turning back, no changing direction, just the inevitable path down to the ground, there to rise at the end or remain still and lifeless. Whatever result, it is quite a journey." She smiled. "Quite a journey indeed."  
The Captain's attention was drawn by a message on the main display screen embedded on the semi circular desk surrounding her position. "Hyperspace probes have contacts on approach, Cascan fighters."  
"Faster than expected, I am mildly impressed."  
An'jash frowned. "We lost the feed, the probe must have been destroyed."  
"Gives us about six minutes until the fleet arrives, no data on its contingents?"  
"No Warmaster." An'jash stated. "The probe was destroyed too quickly."  
"Then we prepare for an all out battle and standby to engage in the battle plan. The more Cascan ships that arrive the better."  
"Setting condition one through the fleet, battle stations."  
"Thank you Captain." Jha'dur setlled in her chair, she had five minutes to kill so decided on a quick test of her second in command. "Cascan Commonwealth, notable strengths and attributes."

An'jash straightened up and began her recital clearly in the same voice she used to give orders, her white hair dramatically standing out in the dimly lit bridge.  
"Cascan Commonwealth is a medium strength League power, economical small and isolationist rarely taking part in League politics."  
"Which means," Jha'dur cut in, "They are not going to be influenced by standard League doctrine."  
"Cascan fleets favour fighter based attacks and have a high number of skilled pilots, standard Cascan fighters are better than most craft we have encountered, but our own Thoruns are still better armed and protected with an agility advantage."  
"Our design is superior but the Cascan can get astonishing performance from their craft." The Warmaster added. "Do not underestimate them, they are a good match for our fighters."  
"Their homeworld has little or no defence grid relying on its fleets and fighters to protect it, they have an unusually high population which may account for their mass use of expendable pilots."  
"Very good Captain, how would you deal with a Cascan fleet?"  
"Pin their fighters with our Thoruns and escort ships, then push forward and destroy their carriers with our main force, finishing off the fighters afterwards."  
"Well done Captain, a solid plan."  
"I learn from the best Warmaster."  
Jha'dur chuckled. "Thank you An'jash, but you do not need to flatter me. Words mean very little to me, just actions."  
"Of course Warmaster."

Silence returned to the bridge, allowing Jha'dur a little delightful reflection from beneath her closed eyes. So far the battles in this war had one common feature, that of surprise. Every enemy she had fought had been struck unawares and had ceded the initiative to the Dilgar, and consequently her losses had been remarkably light even in the bloody planetary assaults. Many worlds still rested in alien hands, but with no standing fleets Jha'dur was happy to let them rot while her fleet turned it's attention to bigger threats.  
Their problem had been the type of war Jha'dur brought them, the League simply was not set up for large scale intense warfare and had found themselves lacking any real precedent for sending so many ships to fight at once. League wars tended to be fought for territory, a small fleet would show up and attack with the aim of driving off an occupier and staking a claim over a world or resource location then formalised by treaty. There it would remain for a while until the slighted race felt confident enough to hit back in a similar way, causing another small border war every five years or so. The Tirrith system had been a frequent target for such aggressive diplomacy over the years until the Dilgar had firmly announced their own claim to the area.  
In League wars a few thousand would die over years, with the Dilgar over six billion souls had gone to the ether so far, and the Warmasters weren't even half way finished yet. The League just didn't have the command and control skills needed for massive fleet coordination and that had been ably demonstrated at Brakir and Latig IV with only the Hyach really understanding how to fight a major war, and they had been hastily defeated through surprise and cunning.  
But the Cascor were different, their isolation from the League had meant that these brushfire war tactics had never taken root with them and their view of war was entirely different to most races, it was cool, considered and aggressive. Cascan battle plans did not call for short term goals like acquiring territory, they called for the elimination of a threat to their people, a ruthless streak Jha'dur could respect.  
Their emphasis on fighter combat helped them find ways to coordinate a battle field with a large number of participants which could easily be scaled up to take into account fleets of ships and their airwings in a large battle. Even more interesting was the development of something of a warrior culture in Cascan society regarding pilots, revered among the race as a type of modern knight or champion hurtling into battle at death defying speed. Ari'shan was going to enjoy facing them. Despite their relatively small size the Commonwealth was probably going to be the biggest obstacle yet to Jha'dur's plans.

"Remember their strengths." Jha'dur spoke again, eyes still shut in contemplation. "And make them a weakness."  
"Hyperspace distortions." An'jash said. "Jump points forming, sector twelve."  
The Warmaster nodded slightly. "Numbers Captain?"  
She waited as the data fed through. "Fifteen hundred ships, perhaps three to five hundred have their own jump drives."  
"Understood Captain. Launch fighters and inform me when they assume their battle formation."  
This area of space had been very carefully selected by Jha'dur. It was about halfway between the Cascan border and their homeworld in utterly featureless deep space. No planets, no nebula or asteroids, no jump gates. Just empty void. By removing any natural cover Jha'dur was forcing the Cascor to fight her head on and in empty space that favoured a battle of manouvre, something both she and the Cascor had made themselves expert at. The lanes of fire were long and uninterrupted and the lighter craft could sweep through space at full acceleration which the Cascor would take full advantage of, hopefully luring them from their Carriers and tempting their wilful and risk taking personalities.  
This was going to be a very high speed battle, with the only objective being total annihilation of the enemy. The Cascor at least understood that, they weren't doing this piecemeal. They understood local supremacy and had brought a fleet which outnumbered the Dilgar by a good margin. The understood concentration of force and had called in every ship they could spare. They understood the concept of the decisive battle as Jha'dur practiced it, the idea of winning a war in one afternoon. They also understood what would happen if they failed, this was going to be a fight to the end with an intensity of purpose the Dilgar had not seen before. Jha'dur was positively tingling with excitement.  
"At last we have an enemy worth killing." She smiled. "Hold all ships and formations until my order, begin steady advance, one third forward speed." Finally she opened her eyes. "Now we see how bright the Dilgar fire burns."

Cascan Battle fleet.

"Set defensive pattern alpha, Carriers to the rear, cruisers front and flanks."  
The command centre of the _Sky Queen_ extended before Admiral Himmat like a bright hall in one of his tribes treetop dwellings. Lost most areas where high ranking officers stayed it was lined with wood and even a few well cared for small trees in the corner. It was an extremely odd style of decoration for the fighting deck of a battle carrier, perhaps more appropriate for a holiday Spa or resort, but it served to provide a tangible link with the home of those who worked and fought here on this ship. It was a reminder of their birthplace and heritage, a constant reminder of what they stood to lose.  
"No trace of the freighters?" the dark furred Admiral wondered.  
"No sir." His aide and commander of the ship replied, a tan coloured male from one of the other family clans from back home. The Cascor were a diverse race that had seen relatively little internal conflict in their history. This did not however make them weak or reluctant to fight, something they were ready to demonstrate.  
"Pity, I expected the battle fleet but was hoping they had some freighters for us to deal with after we dispose of Deathwalker. They must still be at Zachai, we'll finish them when we liberate the planet."  
With luck the Dilgar would not have had time to completely destroy the colony, some thirty million lives were in the balance and while Himmat knew many would have been lost from all reports the Dilgar had withheld a full orbital bombardment. They probably wanted to use them as bait to draw in Cascan fleets and trap them. Ultimately Himmat and ignored the temptation and would meet Jha'dur in this open battle today.  
"Launch fighters, form up attack wings and release them into battle immediately."

Waiting patiently across the fleet thousands of pilots were holding their collective breaths, a mixture of veterans and raw recruits, those who had been flying for decades and those recruited a few months ago when the Dilgar threat became real for their people. This day had long been coming, they were ready to face it and found that surprisingly few of them were scared. Most just waited with calm confidence and quiet determination, if they failed everything died, if they refused to face this terror everything died, if they did fight then they might die, but their home might survive. Once accepted the fear of death had begun to evaporate in an almost serene way.  
Tullaq still felt nerves, she hadn't accepted death and had no intention of giving her life nobly for her world. She was going to come out of this with her fighter decorated in kill markings. The rest of her squadron also believed that, if anyone was going to survive this battle it was bound to be Tullaq, she was blessed, or maybe cursed, with the instincts of a hunter. They all knew the reputation the Dilgar had, and the almost legendary status the Thorun Dartfighter had earned against Abbai, Drazi and Brakiri fighters. Far from being afraid of meeting these craft the Cascan pilots were revelling in it, they wanted to challenge the pretenders to the title of best pilots in the galaxy and prove in open war exactly where that crown belonged.  
It all changed in a heartbeat, the order was given and they raced from their briefing rooms towards the neighbouring launch decks. The Cascor ran to their craft o two legs or four, equally at home in either stance. They were already clad in orange flight suits and bounded across the wide hangers to their bronze coloured fighters, physically leaping inside with boundless enthusiasm anxious to get space beneath their retractable claws. They touched the bar of wood over the hangar entrance for luck, its texture worn flat and white with thousands of pilots reaching to it over the years for that one extra bit of fortune on a mission. They had never needed it more than today.  
The Cascan navy deployed three main types of fighters, the first and largest was the Calaq class assault fighter, a well armed and protected strike craft designed for knocking out key systems on warships. They were however quite capable fighters in their own right and could stand up to most known enemy interceptors, though the Thoruns would probably give it a lot of trouble. The second was the most numerous of Cascan craft, the dainty Caccar class fighter. These were deployed in vast numbers to clear the skies of enemy fighters and missiles and allow the Cascan strike waves through. They were tiny and easily destroyed, but also happened to be blindingly fast and remarkably agile meaning that actually hitting one was quite a challenge.  
Finally came the pride of the Cascan navy and the goal of any dedicated pilot, the Tiqincc Medium fighter. They were almost the ideal balance between speed, firepower, protection and agility without peer in League service. With a good pilot at the controls they had managed to outfight everything they had come across, and as a rule squadrons operating this type only took the very best which for a race so suited to fighter combat made them a true elite. As a final surprise it also featured a tail gun to discourage pursuit from opponents.

Tullaq clambered into her personal Tiqincc with her clan markings displayed on the hull and twenty two kills listed beneath the cockpit, mostly raiding Llort fighters and shuttles. She'd battled professionals in her time, a pair of Narn Gorith class fighters her proudest victory to date, but the Dilgar were going to be something else. Anyone with a Thorun kill was going to be an instant hero and had the promise of a specially minted medal in the shape of the Dilgar fighter.  
The cockpit canopy sealed shut and the flight systems powered up perfectly, like the pilots the Cascan ground crews were also experts in their jobs. The crews evacuated as the heavy doors dropped down and the large bay door unlocked itself. Tullaq finished her pre-flight checks, disengaged the landing clamps, and then waited for the orange light telling her to go.  
She reacted automatically, a tiny burst on thrusters lifting the craft off the deck before she kicked in her main engines the very second the doors dropped open and the launch lights cleared her. She was first out and already at full thrust before passing the narrow opening, the thrill of speed and the wide vista around her completely intoxicating. This was living, all senses pushed to their limits and nothing standing between her and fate except her skill with the fighter. Not many outside the Cascor appreciated that, a few humans did, embracing the life of a pilot, and even some Dilgar appreciated the beauty and honour of single combat with the stars looking upon. Tullaq hoped to meet one such pilot, she suspected that she would probably get her wish.  
Wave after wave of bronze hulls lined up and began the journey to the green and red Dilgar ships, the Cascan fleet outnumbered and outgunned the Dilgar thanks mostly to the huge numbers of fighters, each Cascan ship carrying at least a squadron, sometimes up to six. The Dilgar warships woefully outmatched the Cascan navy, but as far as Tullaq was concerned by the time they were in range the strike wings would have decimated them and the Cascan cruisers would just be mopping up scraps. She refused to entertain thoughts of defeat or failure, the only failure for her would be simply not to fight at all. One way or the other this was going to define her life.

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

"Cascan forces have deployed," An'jash recited the data crossing her stations, a coallation of reports from the various bridge command points. "As expected they are sending in fighter based attacks. A lot of them."  
Jha'dur checked the numbers with mild alarm but quickly suppressed it. She had been expecting something like this and her plan had taken it into account. Even so this was going to be painful, especially for her own pilots who had to face an enemy whose skill and ability was similar to their own. "Increase speed."  
Gradually the entire Dilgar fleet accelerated, moving at the speed of the slowest ship in order to retain their cohesion. The force was spaced out in groups of five, usually a Dreadnought or cruiser covered by four smaller ships as escort. Each of these five ship Pentacans was deployed so they not only covered themselves but also each other, and Cascan fighter trying to launch a strike run on a Dilgar ship was going to have to run past at least twenty five well armed and well trained gun crews before they could drop their ordnance. With the point defence fighters included in that analysis it made any attack run against the Dilgar fleet suicidal.  
The Cascor weren't going to see it that way, and even if they lost two or three squadrons per ship they were still ahead by the numbers. They could throw so many fighters into the teeth of those defences they could just overwhelm them and wreck Jha'durs plan before she had a chance to execute it. Speed was the only thing that was going to earn her victory today, even one moment of hesitation or indecision could prove fatal. She needed to hold onto that sense of supreme self confidence that had brought the fleet this far and use it to inspire her crews to achieve the impossible.  
Jha'dur also knew that even in the best case scenario she was going to lose a lot of people today, including most of her fighter forces. The Thorun wings were ridiculously outnumbered and weren't going to stand a chance, yet if she didn't send them forward it would cost her the fleet. Sending pilots into certain death was never an easy choice, even for someone like Jha'dur, but the decision was inevitable and she did not regret making it or second guess herself afterwards. She did what needed to be done, the consequences of failure were simply too high to contemplate.

"Two minutes until interception." An'jash said. "Approximately fifteen until we are in range of the Carriers."  
Which meant the simple arithmetic was the Dilgar fleet would have to endure thirteen long minutes of attacks before they even had a chance to do significant damage to their enemy. She knew a squadron of bombers could leave a ship crippled in one pass, and thirteen minutes gave the Cascor a lot of time to mount strikes.  
She checked the tactical displays, her own fleet deployed like a series of interlocking islands armed to the teeth. The Cascor were going to be channelled between those five ship islands stormed on from all sides by pulsar fire, but it was still no guarantee of victory. She had entered this battle knowing she couldn't kill every Cascan ship so had instead elected to kill just the important ones, the fleet Carriers, and generally ignore everything else.  
The Cascor strike groups were formed into five waves, two coming in from either flank and three head on, spaced above and below the plane of travel the Dilgar fleet travelled on. Each wave was at least as powerful as the entire Dilgar fighter contingent and eager for battle. The best Cascan pilots were flying the Bombers and medium fighters and they advanced in steady deliberate fashion maintaining a solid formation and timing their arrival to coincide with their fellow squadrons for maximum impact. The newer pilots tended to fly the tiny Caccar fighters and were moving in less disciplined formations eager to get into action with the invaders. If Jha'dur had been Cascan she would have deployed her forces in a similar way, the inexperienced pilots acting as living shields to tie up the Thoruns and draw defensive fire from the warships while the better pilots could strike their targets and engage the defensive fighters at will.  
"Whoever is in charge of the Cascan fleet is a ruthless and cold commander." The Warmaster announced. "He isn't afraid to send his people to die for his plan, but he also knows how to spend those lives wisely."  
"Fifty seconds to intercept."  
Jha'dur nodded, it was time. "Deploy Thorun wings, full attack." She ordered. "Break through their fighter screen and engage the bombers only, I repeat, bombers only. They may defend themselves but the priority is the bombers, they are the only true threat to the fleet and must be stopped at any cost."  
"Yes Warmaster, confirmation sent." An'jash acknowledged. "Fighters moving forward, selecting targets."  
"Magnificent aren't they?" Jha'dur said with a wistful smile. "Remarkable precision and confidence."  
"Yes Warmaster, our pilots are well deserved of their reputation."  
"I meant the Cascor." Jha'dur chuckled. "You'll never see a sight like this again, a tide of fighters with such unity of purpose. They awe me, almost scare me, it is a sight we ourselves should aspire to."  
"As you say Warmaster." An'jash said, not entirely sure she agreed.  
"I do not consider them better than us." Jha'dur continued. "But they have such spirit it demands some respect. A worthy enemy." She nodded quietly as the ranges came ever closer. "You know what the Cascor call their main fighters? Star skaters." She smiled widely. "Star skaters, what a wonderful name, so full of imagery don't you think?"  
"Yes Ma'am."  
"It is a pity to destroy such talent and vision." Jha'dur sighed. "All units fire at will, ignore escape pods and capsules, we'll make sure there are no survivors after primary objectives have been achieved."  
As a Warmaster of the Dilgar she did what was necessary, and for all their promise it was necessary to remove the Cascan species from the universe. She had no hesitation in making that decision, and no regrets afterwards.

Tullaq held her fighter on course as the range counter turned from blue to orange indicating she was in range of the Dilgar front line, a decent sized horde of Dart fighters rising to oppose them, grey and green in colour with a mechanical and ungraceful appearance, not much like the delightfully contoured and artfully crafted Cascan fighters. Tullaq was in the first wave assigned to protect a neighbouring squadron of Calaq strike bombers on their attack run, once that was done she would be released to engage any targets she deemed fit, a moment she was longing for but remaining controlled about.  
Many of her comrades had no such restraint, the young and the headstrong broke formation with a cheer and sped towards the Thoruns, mostly tiny Caccar fighters which had about half the mass of the tough dart fighters. With a suddenness which surprised her the battle began, one second it was dark space, the next it was full of lancing energy bolts and brief explosions. She held course with the Calaqs, the most intense areas of battle seemed to be developing several miles from her current location which meant the run to the target would be a little easier than the central squadrons.  
The Dilgar had the best of the opening exchange, the Thoruns swatting Caccars out of the sky with one hit while the Cascan pilots needed to score three or four against the well built enemy. The small arrowhead ships flashed brightly and fractured into a thousand pieces, blackened hulls briefly lit as their fuel cells discharged uncontrollably in a short funeral pyre immolating the careless pilot. The first squadrons broke apart in confusion and looped past the Dilgar, easy targets for the experienced invaders, but most of them managed to escape without incident.  
Under orders from their Warmaster the Thoruns pressed on into the body of the first wave and locked onto the Calaq bombers and their escorts, ignoring the gnat like Caccars which now began to double back and surround the Dilgar craft. The Thoruns had put themselves in a very difficult position surrounded on all sides and outnumbered, yet they had their orders and carried them out without complaint. They felt sure of their superiority and believed in their cause, and that gave them fire enough to fight on like demons.

Tullaq's attack wing broke through the perimeter without much trouble, only four dart fighters had stood in their way and they had been swamped by nearly two hundred Caccars that were leading ahead of the strike wing. Far to her left the tell tale flashes of battle grew more and more intense, the brief blasts looking like rain falling on still water, rippling briefly before fading into nothing but memory.  
"Strike wing, accelerate to attack speed." The measured tones of the Wing leader commanded. "Engage primary target, Dilgar flagship."  
As the main strength of the Cascan flagship it was only fitting that the bombers should be assigned against the black dreadnought holding the blackest heart within. Honour demanded that Admiral Himmat attempt to fight the enemy commander, and had assigned the very best pilots he could find to achieve that goal. They had one squadron of Bombers, one of interceptors and a vast number of Caccar's that had latched onto the prestigious unit in the aim of achieving some glory of their own. Against that they had to weave through several hundred Dilgar ships to reach the centre of the enemy force and commence their attack on the flagship itself. None of them could wish for a more daring or noble mission, and despite the risks they knew they had a chance, after all they were the best.

The first row of warships loomed up ahead, a staggered wall of fleets waiting patiently to unleash death on the Cascan pilots that made it past the Thorun screen. The Dilgar had some of the best point defence systems known to exist, their Pulsar cannons were fast firing and accurate with a tendency to be mounted in large numbers. Dilgar ships could never be called under armed, and Tullaq was expected to race in ahead of the strike wing and pick off as many pulsar turrets as she could to allow the bombers to concentrate on the engines and weak points on the flagship hull.  
Her cockpit canopy automatically polarized as bright flashes erupted from the Dilgar ships ahead, orange and white bolts sweeping back and forth with frantic persistence while the Cascan fighters dodged as well as they could. Like the Thoruns the warships were ignoring the fighters and aiming for the bombers, but with so many small ships heading their way any rounds that were on target invariable hit a fighter long before they could get to the strike squadron.  
A Star Skater was hit by an energy bolt twice as big as the fighter itself, winking out of existence without leaving a trace, not even a shadow of what it had been. Light fighters were able to weave quickly enough to avoid the larger shots, but the smaller pulsar cannons on the escorts still managed to find their marks with disturbing accuracy.  
"We're in the channel." Tullaq's superior said, still utterly calm. "Hold course, Flagship ahead, intercept in two minutes."  
Tullaq lost herself for a second as they passed the first Dilgar Pentacan, racing by a heavy cruiser that was firing rapidly from every gun at them as they closed. The tracer fire was enchanting, an amazing display of firepower and destruction that took her a little unguarded. It was a spectacle in it's own right despite what it represented. Within a heartbeat it was behind her and changing its target to a more immediate threat, passing Tullaq's wing on to the next layer of the Dilgar defence and more interlocking fire.

The Dilgar frontline was now under attack from the strike wings, Cascan bomber lining up for their runs on the Dilgar Pentacans and using high grade weapons to punch through armour and smash internal systems. They were shot down in droves, point defences, missiles and Thoruns all adding up to destroy literally a hundred Cascan ships for every attack run they made. The sheer level of firepower being thrown out was staggering, but the Cascor had the numbers to soak up the losses and keep on attacking. Gradually the Dilgar front line was beginning to erode as the first destroyers and frigates were blown apart, followed by a Strike cruiser. Its demise prompted cheers across the fleet and encouraged the small mammals to double their efforts and press their attacks with yet more determination and courage.  
The Cascan military had adopted Ion cannons as their main weapon deployed in various types and sizes from tiny fighters to huge carriers. The weapons were powerful and effective yet were also incredibly radioactive greatly limiting their use. Only the Centauri with their superior Radiation shielding, and the Narn and Balosians with their hardy biology showed an interest in their own ion weapons, and even then deployed them in a very limited way.  
But the Cascan biology was such that they as a species were extremely resistant to radiation and could use ion weapons as much as they liked, which they happily did. A lot of the ordnance they were engaging the Dilgar with was less destructive than a conventional weapon but tended to create a very large amount of radiation at the target, enough to kill or incapacitate a living creature extremely quickly. One or two Dilgar frigates that had been attacked looked to have only minor damage, but inside their crews were dead or dying, overwhelmed by the side effects of the Cascan weapons.

"Missile alert!" one of Tullaq's wing mates called out. "Incoming, two twenty high!"  
The two elite squadrons split up and expanded radially, going from a loose defensive formation to a widely dispersed cloud to make sure one well placed nuke didn't finish the whole wing. The attendant light fighters didn't move as fast, and a trio of bright explosions took fifty of them into the next generation before their time was due.  
As Tullaq suddenly thought that this would be the absolute worst time to be engaged by fighters, her sensors cried out in warning. "Darters, dead ahead!" She passed on the bad news to the rest of the wing.  
The missiles had been aimed to disperse the Cascan wing, with the fighters separated and alone they would be easy pickings for a well trained Dilgar squadron. Tullaq had to give the enemy credit for being that devious, but they had underestimated this particular unit.  
"All squadrons reform." A calm voice ordered. "Regroup and attack."  
Tullaq spun her Star skater and raced at full speed towards a central meeting point, feeling the familiar tug of G-forces as the agile crafts engines glowed and thundered. Her whole squadron was heading for the same little section of space, and just when it seemed a massive collision was inevitable the shining fighters snapped a hard turn and fell perfectly into formation, a precision move even the best of the galaxies pilots would have been hard pressed to copy.  
The Dilgar squadron may have been surprised by the display, but if they realised they were outmatched they didn't let it stop them from attacking. Particle bolts crossed paths with ion bolts as the squadrons engaged, The Dilgar firing then evading while the Cascor evaded and then fired. Tullaqs squadron had a slight edge in agility and they used it, avoiding the Dilgar volleys and positioning themselves for a return strike, shooting down at the Dart fighters as they flitted overhead. Tullaq dropped the trigger on her twin linked ion cannons and put three bursts into the closest Dilgar, witnessing the Thorun fracture like a dining plate dropped from a window. She was past before the vacuum extinguished the blazing fires of her enemy's demise and was realigning the Skater with its line of travel.  
She had a Dilgar kill, a top of the range Thorun to add to her tally alongside the assorted raider and skirmish kills she had acquired. She allowed herself to feel that moment of exhiliration before focusing once more on the task ahead. The Dilgar were coordinating the battle with typically ruthless efficiency, no matter where the Cascan fighters went they faced massive volleys of firepower or a hidden fighter squadron and losses were mounting steeply. Most of the first wave was ruined, but with four other waves coming in the odds still favoured Cascor.

That first wave had been sent to tie up the Dilgar fighter wings and test their firepower, now that they were heavily engaged the real hammer blow began to descend. The second wave consisted of three fifths of the Cascan fighter and bomber strength, it was timed to attack simultaneously from five separate directions in an attempt to diffuse the heavily concentrated Dilgar defence and wear down the fleet from the outside working in.  
Jha'dur had been waiting for this attack and had saved her best weapons to counter it. With her Thoruns tied up at the front of the fleet engaging the first wave she had to rely on the warship formations to handle this new assault. When the Cascan squadrons reached a designated range the Destroyers of the Dilgar navy unleashed a barrage of high speed missiles armed with high yield nuclear warheads.  
Again it was the reckless light fighters which suffered the worst, hundreds of them being caught in the volley and vanishing in a heartbeat, the better trained pilots largely made it through and continued on into the massed gun batteries of the fleet. The new wave washed over the Dilgar forces and added its weight to the offensive pushing around the edges of the knotted Dilgar ships and running like trickles of water through the fleet, fired on from all sides as they made for their targets.  
The ships leading the battle were ragged and sporting heavy damage across their hulls. They maintained their fire but were being gradually worn down by the Calaq bombers, wrecked hulks maintained formation as their momentum kept them at the same speed as their still fighting comrades for a few minutes until the hard burning engines of the survivors drew them ahead.  
The Dilgar were getting closer to the Cascan main fleet, but it was turning into a very painful advance.  
"We just lost the _Overlord._" An'jash reported. "Her battle group is splitting up."  
"Order them to support the _Temerity_ battlegroup." Jha'dur said calmly. "Then bring damged ships from that unit back into the core of the fleet. No point keeping crippled ships in a vulnerable position."  
"Yes Warmaster."  
Jha'dur was stood in the centre of the command deck looking carefully from screen to screen trying to interpret the ebb and flow of battle. Her frontline was mired in a sea of enemy contacts but was still making ground while her successive units fended off less coordinated attacks. The Cascor were trying to destroy the lead ships first which made good tactical sense and had made sure their heaviest attacks were focused on slowing down her advance, they wanted her on the defensive.  
"Send two Pentacons to support the left side advance." She ordered. "They are falling behind, we must not stop."  
"At once."  
"Hold the advance, accept the losses and watch the carriers." Jha'dur emphasised. "We'll have our chance soon, then we'll make them wish they'd never been born."

The fighter rolled back into position with the slightest nudge of the control, once again earning it's name. The Dilgar gunners were good but Tullaq was proving better, her squadron and the strike unit had so far taken minimal losses, though the swarm of fighters around them had suffered grievously. It was however going to be worth it, they had evaded scores of Dilgar heavy warships and fighters, using the huge attack to mask their approach and were now in sight of their target.  
"There she is!" Tullaq spotted the massive warship first. "_Mishakur _Class warship variant, it's the _Deathwalker!_"  
The vessel loomed out from cover of its squadron, black and blood red against the traditional green and grey of its sisters, a unique vessel that was known to all the League. Jha'dur did not hide from battle, indeed she enjoyed announcing her presence to send shivers through her enemies and letting her reputation weaken their resolve. But that didn't work with the Cascor, to them it was a challenge and one that was readily accepted.  
"You know your orders." The strike leader said. "Begin attack run, fighters forward."  
The two elite squadrons performed a precision turn, altering from defensive formation to a more offensive arrangement and sweeping in towards the Dilgar flagship. They angled in from the ships rear port quarter, an area intelligence had picked as a relatively undefended part of the ship, though on Dilgar vessels that was a relative concept. The Black warship held it's course, but the escorts spotted the danger and set up an intercept course.  
The first of the lightweight fighters exploded, caught by a pair of destroyers moving to block their path. Once agin the highly accurate pulsar batteries knocked out Cascan flyers by the handful but Tullaq's unit negotiated the firestorm without incident, weaving at high speed through the strewn wreckage and glittering remnants of their comrades.  
"Lock in target location." The strike leader continued with utter calm. "Hull location alpha, concentrated missile strike."  
Their target was not the ship's bridge, an area buried deep in the vessel behind thick armour, but the damage control coordination network. It hadn't been easy to find but from reports and data taken of these ships in battle strike command had come up with expected weak points on Dilgar ships, and one was the damage control centre. It was relatively unprotected yet its loss would short out all the automatic precautions for hull breaches and fire. With luck the ships airtight doors would remain open long enough for the atmosphere on the bridge to be sucked out and thereby kill the crew without needing tons of ordinance and nuclear weapons to try and break through directly.

"Target locked." The calm voice announced. "Set up on final approach."  
The warship was moving now, rolling to present more guns to the attack and already the intensity of fire had increased. Ironically by moving the ship had made it easier for the bombers to hit their target. Tullaq was right at the front, the energy blasts barely registering as they streaked past her eyes in a flash. Her squadron was tasked to draw fire and intercept any fighters providing close escort to the battleship, but so far none had been spotted.  
As expected the ship was well protected and everywhere was coloured red or white as the escorts stormed at the fighters with all their guns. Two bombers fell out of formation trailing gas and flame from ruptured fuel lines, the fighter beside Tullaq exploded while a whole flight of Caccars slammed into a Dilgar destroyer triggering white bursts of fire across its hull as secondary explosions wracked the wounded vessel. Through it all the strike squdron pushe don to within a few miles of the monstrous dreadnought.  
"Fighters break!" the order came. "Clear the way and gather at the rally point!"  
Tullaq took a breath, she no longer had to escort the bombers and was responsible solely for herself for the next few minutes. She had orders to meet up behind the Dilgar fleet, regroup and then begin striking targets of opportunity, all she had to do was make it there in one piece. With the bulk of the Dilgar flagship dominating her forward view that was easier said than done.  
She rolled the fighter and tilted the nose up before pushing the throttle as far as it would go. The engines kicked in and crushed Tullaq into her chair, the forces stretching her skin over her body in an uncomfortable but exhilarating sensation. The Dilgar gunners ignored her, still firing at the bombers so the Star Skater passed by the warship with little trouble, its gleaming hull racing past in the blink of an eye. She rolled out, ducked under an escort and heading for the rally point.  
In the same moment the bombers finally struck, converging from three directions in a perfectly timed run. They dodged the final storm of energy rounds and dropped their ordnance, punching into the Dreadnought's hull and shredding metal. The atmosphere flashed and ignited as it rushed out behind the bombers, the rearmost craft carelessly straying into the gun sights of the flagship and vanishing in fire.  
The Dilgar ship held it's course, as did those around it, but the Cascan pilots had inflicted damage upon it and if they did it right the internal damage was going to be much worse than the fairly small hole in the upper hull.

Jha'dur's bridge went black before red lights and alarms rang out, moments later a fierce cold hurricane blew through the large room as a hull breach opened up close by.  
"Close blast doors!" An'jash yelled over the roar, her hair flickering before her eyes. Somewhere a crew member hit the emergency controls and the heavy doors slid down.  
"Report Captain." Jha'dur said with utter calm as if nothing had happened.  
"Hull breach Warmaster, the damage pattern was aimed through the hull." The aide reported. "It is highly localized but has penetrated deep into the ship, primary damage control centre destroyed, secondary facility has taken over."  
"Risk to the ship?"  
"Minimal Warmaster."  
"Then we hold formation and maintain speed." Jha'dur stated. "Eight minutes until we reach the enemy, make sure every one knows our time is coming."  
She hadn't moved from her station, only grabbing her chair when the breach threatened to suck her out of the control room. She noticed a slight tingling at the side of her head and reached up, finding bright red blood on her fingers when she retracted her hands. She actually smiled widely at the sight, moving her hand quickly back to ascertain the extent of the damage.  
An'jash must have noticed, she leapt from her seat and started for her senior officer.  
"As you were Captain." Jha'dur said calmly. "It is nothing serious."  
"Warmaster, it is a head wound, I strongly advise…"  
"Noted Captain, but I do have some knowledge in these matters and I will not need the sickbay." She smiled and examined the blood on her fingers, letting it drip between her finger ends.  
"If that is your decision Warmaster." An'jash bowed.  
"It is, resume your post." The officer commanded. "So far no enemy has injured me in this war. First blood to the Cascor today, it was a daring attack."  
"Yes Warmaster, the did well to evade our batteries. Most of the Cascan fighters did not."  
"But those two squadrons did," Jha'dur observed. "They are skilled indeed. Worthy opponents." She stared at her bloody finger tips and smiled. "Inform Ari'shan of their whereabouts, we will commit an elite squadron of our own to deal with them instead of wasting more valuable fighters in an unequal fight. All other ships continue on course."  
She wasn't in particular pain, and oddly she didn't feel anger at the injury, just a sense that finally one of her enemies had been competent enough to do her some damage and even draw blood. It wasn't much, but it was symbolic and it did make Jha'dur understand that this battle was something special, which would make victory that much more sweet.  
With a cold smile she went back to watching the tactical displays and biding her time.

The battle had been a quiet affair for Knight squadron, all the light and fury of the engagement something visible in the distance ahead and below the formation of the unit. Ari'shan wanted to be down there in the forefront of the attack, all his squadron did, but they had orders straight from Jha'dur and could not disobey. Those orders were to wait until a specific threat revealed itself, and only then to engage on the Warmasters express order.  
He was currently sat in his repaired fighter, the entire engine assembly cut off and replaced after damage sustained facing an unknown Human ship. Jha'dur had been extremely eager to hear his report, telling him it wasn't the first time they had met this freighter. Evidently it had been upgraded.  
They had concluded the ship wasn't working alone, it's vanishing explainable only by an exit to hyperspace. As the ship showed no signs of the power needed to work a jump drive on so small a ship it had to have been working with a second larger vessel hidden from the Dilgar main force and both vessels escaped before the squadron arrived. By a quick process of deduction Jha'dur reasoned the freighter was working for a covert agency within the Earth Alliance and was supported by a government owned jump capable ship. While she had no proof she knew it was an attempt by Earth to gather military intelligence on the Dilgar, showing the humans were taking an active interest in her people.  
That had lead them to a slightly unnerving series of thoughts, the council had long dismissed humanity as isolationist and not interested in alien affairs. However this freighter was undeniable evidence that humans were interested in Dilgar affairs and wanted to try and hide that from their people. "You do not hide unless it gives you some advantage." Jha'dur had said. "the humans have a plan for us Ari, and I don't like where it may lead us."  
His musings were interrupted by a brief message on his flight computer giving him a location, a heading and wishing him good hunting. It carried the subchannel ID of Jha'dur's flagship.  
"Knight Squadron, new orders." Ari'shan announced. "Follow my lead and standby to engage enemy craft."  
The fighter rumbled to life in the empty night, leaving its quiet observation point and diving down towards the maelstrom, the rest of the squadron hard behind. Up ahead the glittering flashes of battle grew larger, the point where the vanguard of the Dilgar fleet surged forward was a mat of explosions, hundreds erupting and vanishing every second as missiles and guns worked their nightmares. Elsewhere the intensity of fighting was less, but by now the Cascan fighters were everywhere and each of the Dilgar ships in the fleet had come under osme level of attack.  
Ari'shan had a very specific target, a bomber and fighter squadron that had attacked the flagship taking everyone by surprise, even Jha'dur hadn't expected it and had sent her fighter screen to reinforce the front line. The ship was still in action but the symbolism of the Dilgar flagship being attacked was a powerful one to the Cascor, the only way to counter it was to destroy the forces that had made the run on terms the Cascor would understand. Single combat, fighter against fighter. It was what Ari'shan considered himself born for.  
They adjusted course slightly and entered the engagement zone, sweeping past a brace of destroyers and weaving between the battle groups. They were passing huge amounts of wreckage concentrated in the wake of the fleet, as it advanced it had left behind wrecked ships and fighters in a snaking trail that Ari'shan could follow, a hint at how intense the fighting was on the main battle line.  
"Watch your positions." Ari'shan said colly. "Target coming up ahead. Remember, the Warmaster is watching. Do your duty and earn your place in this squadron."

Knight Squadron fell into formation, a neat line angling along the plane of travel waiting for the order to break. While each pilot was interested in individual glory they were also trained as a team and in a battle as big as this trying to fight alone against overwhelming odds was suicide. Once they found their target they would each pick an opponent and challenge them to single combat, but until then they would split into threes and and commence high speed strikes.  
A knot of light fighters blocked their path, the straggled survivors of the force that had followed Tullaq's unit through the Dilgar lines. They turned in disorder to face the incoming Thorun squadron and began firing wildly at long range.  
"Attack formation." Ari'shan ordered. "Don't tangle with them, we have orders."  
The Dilgar fighters split into their subgroups evading the Cascan fire without difficulty, they waited until the range closed and then engaged, pivoting through space to keep their noses on the enemy fighters. Knight squadron didn't miss, each ot the groups passing outside the Cascan formation in a semi circular pattern and fired inwards and downwards at their enemies, destroying the inexperienced pilots without needing to slow down or alter course.  
Ari'shan smiled in satisfaction, he had tried to work with the academies and fleet commanders to group together the best pilots the Dilgar had to offer in this one unit, it looked like he had been successful.  
"Target squadron is ahead, kill the bombers before taking on the fighters. Quick and clean."  
Again the squadron silently took up the appropriate formation and matched Ari'shan's speed. They were coming in from a flanking position using their own warships as cover to mask them to the enemy and achieve a measure of surprise. Data feed from a nearby Dreadnought updated them on the current position of the Cascan force, just on the opposite side of the Battle group they were passing. With a final weapons check Ari'shan rolled his fighter over and looped past the menacing form of a cruiser into battle.

Tullaq had about half a second to react, barely enough time to swing the controls down and avoid a dark green Thorun that came within an inch of colliding with her.own craft. It ignored her and proceeded to attack the strike fighters reforming after their run on the Dilgar flagship, destroying two before they even knew what was happening. Caught out of formation the strike squadron didn't have a chance, it was all over in one pass before the escorts could even bring their guns to bear on the agile Dart fighters, which were now swooping past a Destroyer and setting up to engage the Star Skaters themselves.  
Tullaq was spitting with anger, her squadron was supposed to keep the Strike unit alive, they had fought so hard to get them into the heart of the Dilgar fleet only for this squadron to come out of nowhere and wipe them out before Tullaq could react. All the glory she imagined garnering for this battle had vanished as quickly as fire in the void, her Dilgar kills meant nothing now because she had failed in her core mission. The only thing she could do now, the only thing that filled her mind was making this Dilgar squadron pay.  
"Attack!" her commander ordered. "Engage at once! Hit them before the can hide behind one of their ships again!"  
She hadn't even waited for the order, Tullaq was at full power and locking on to the Thorun ahead of her, the Dilgar pilot racing to meet her head on, a challenge if ever she saw one. She held her fire, not even breathing as the range decreased rapidly, noticing the Dilgar pilot was also not firing even though he was by now well in range. The barely visible speck grew into a discernable shape, then a recognizable fighter, and with a suddenness which still surprised Tullaq they were on top of each other. Only then did she fire, the Dilgar pilot doing so at virtually the same instant.She rolled hard to the left, the bright Dilgar bolter rounds searing past the fighters underside and out into space. The Dilgar pilot was also moving with incredible skill, lifting the tail of his Thorun so Tullaqs shots which should have taken out the main engine just sailed harmlessly past.  
"Sneaky son of a…" she snarled through her teeth and whipped the Star Skater around, but as she did so the craft shuddered and was thrown off course from a nearby concussion. There was a slight clatter as debris hit the ship, and a quick glance at the sensor panel showed her squadron was taking losses with the fighter acting as her wingman now just blackened metal. The Thorun that had engaged her had spun about and was firing again forcing Tullaq to focus on the dire situation at hand in an effort just to stay alive.  
She increased speed, using her better acceleration to open the range before swinging hard around to face her opponent, the force of the turn pulling her neck muscles taut and causing a wince of pain. With a grunt of surprise she had to drop the fighter on it's axis, the Thorun was right on top of her having pushed its own engines to their limits in order to keep with her. It fired and again barely missed her hard flying Skater, and cutting past behind her before she could reply.  
"Fast!" she said absently, not noticing or caring that no one could hear her.  
She flipped again, stars forming white lines all around as the Skater rolled on all three axis at once, Tullaq trusting instinct alone to keep her orientated and make sure the Thorun did not get away. She corrected her spin with retro thrusters, jinked right to avoid four energy bolts and then pulled her trigger without looking up. To her eternal surprise there was a flash and a strong shockwave juddered her Skater. By the time she forced her neck muscles to overcome G force and look up the Dart fighter was expanding wreckage, a twisted skeleton she had ruined.  
She didn't enjoy the victory as she had against the previous Dilgar pilot, this one had forced her to work hard for the kill and had nearly finished her a couple of times. Breathlessly she checked her scopes and froze. There was nobody left, during the duel the rest of her squadron had been destroyed, lost to whatever unit her Dilgar attacker had come from. Now she suddenly found herself alone and surrounded by the eleven best pilots the Dilgar could field.

"Fall back." Ari'shan ordered, never taking his eyes of the last Star Skater.  
"Sir," his second spoke up. "I request the honour of single combat."  
"I appreciate that Cor'nal, but I have claimed that right myself, if I should fall you have seniority and will be the next to engage."  
"Understood sir."  
As Squadron leader Ari'shan had earned the right to take first choice of any challenges that crossed the squadrons path. He had engaged and beaten the enemy squadron leader while the rest of his unit quickly and efficiently disposed of the remainder. They had been excellent pilots, but just couldn't compete with a fighter as well made as the Thoruns Knight squadron was using coupled with the skill and determination of the pilots. Only this one Cascan pilot had survived, destroying Ari'shans third in command. Not an easy task.  
While Ari'shan was sad at the lost and calculated how it would affect the fighting efficiency and combat power of the unit, he did not begrudge the Cascan pilot the victory. It was well earned and his squad mate had met a noble and honourable death as good as any Dilgar could wish. Now he would try and prove himself against the Cascan ace to see how good he was and whether he had the right to lead this squadron.  
"Return to your mission." Ari'shan ordered. "Attack targets of opportunity and obey any special orders from the Warmaster. I will see you soon after this duel, or I will see you all in the next life. Good hunting."  
The squdron did not question the orders, they understood, immediately breaking away and disappearing into the tumult leaving Ari'shan and Tullaq to stare at each other. He could just about make out the pilot in the canopy, the bright coloured flight suit contrasting with his own black uniform. He lifted his hand, hoping the Cascan pilot saw him, offered a salute in the Dilgar style, then flipped the fighter over, went to full power on engines and looped over into an attack position.  
The Cascan pilot also moved, darting away under Ari'shan and heading off at full thrust towards the thickest fighting. With a wide grin Ari'shan followed her course and the chase was on.

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

"Two minutes!" Captain Anjash called. "All battle groups are standing ready!"  
"Control yourself Captain." Jha'dur said icily. "There is no need to get emotional."  
"Yes Warmaster, sorry Warmaster." An'jash was an the edge of an adrenalin rush like no other, the Dilgar fleet had been heavily pounded by massive fighter strikes but had weathered the storm and was now almost in range of the Cascan fleet itself. Dozens of warships had fallen behind the relentless advance, and any that suffered engine damage and couldn't keep up fell away from the protection of their comrades and were mercilessly cut to pieces by jubilant Cascan pilots.  
The Warmaster had taken these losses and pushed on, leaving the ships to their fate and holding the fleet in one solid block. It was regrettable to lose vessels, but as they fell behind the attracted swarms of Cascan pilots and had therefore weakened the strength of the squadrons battering the still operational ships. It was an unfortunate lack of discipline on the Cascan part, something Jha'dur had hoped for.  
Now, finally, she could put her plan to win this fight into action, and in so doing destroy any semblance of Cascan resistance to the Dilgar Imperium. By the end of the dat Cascor would be one more world beneath the Dilgar boot, and she could proceed with the business of expanding the fleet rimward towards the last remaining League powers.  
"Captain, fleetwide channel." Jha'dur ordered. "Every ship has its individual orders." She stated. "Each battlegroup has been assigned a target to destroy, and whatever the cost that target will fall." She paused to let the words sink in. "Any unit that fails in its objective will remain behind or will answer directly to me. Whatever the cost this battle plan must be one hundred percent successful. No comprimise, no failure."  
She made a cutting motion and An'jash switched off the channel.  
"All stations report ready." The Captain reported.  
"Alter fire control." Jha'dur ordered. "Secure from point defence and stand by salvo fire. We'll be engaging at extreme close range, we do not slow down so watch your course helm. Gun batteries may fire at will, but you know your target priorities. I am usually forgiving in these matters, but failure today will be dealt with harshly."  
The Warmasters of the Imperium had a reputation for on the spot executions if a subordinate failed them, but Jha'dur was a little more broad minded. She knew circumstances in war could not be predicted and sometimes the most competent officer failed. If it was fate she would simply send the officer back to work, but if it was due to incompetence or negligence than Jha'dur's punishments were legendary. It had the effect of giving her the best officers in the fleet and the most dedicated, the rest either transferred out quickly, which Jha'dur did not hinder, or found their careers ending on one of the dreaded Medical ships.  
"Focus on your jobs and your targets, nothing else matters." She finished. "We are the best, and we will triumph. Fire at will."

Cascan Carrier _Sky Queen_

Admiral Himmat quietly took the scene in, observing the dots and dashs on the screen and the proximity of the Dilgar fleet.  
"They are still on us sir!" Commander Nilinc warned sharply. "They're entering firing range!"  
Himmat had been counting on his fighters to do a better job, maybe even to destroy the ability of the Dilgar fleet to fight before it closed the range to his own warship line, but the fates hadn't agreed with him and the Deathwalkers ships still held their formation.  
"Then we have no choice, cruiser units forward, carriers will remain back and commence long range support fire."  
"Orders sent."  
"Fighter status?"  
The Commander checked his display, light hands quickly bringing up the data. He smiled as he saw the information. "Over sixty percent are operational, and most of the loses were light fighters. Our strike wings are still more than capable of dealing with the enemy."  
"But not yet." Himmat winced as he looked at the stats. "They've expended their weapons, most are heading back to rearm."  
It was a dangerous lull in the Cascor battle plan, the Strike bombers were Himmat's strongest weapon and had performed well. Admittedly most of their shots had either missed or been lost in a nuclear firestorm but that was a defence the Dilgar could only use once. When they went out for a second run the Dilgar fleets best defences would be spent, and their fighter screen all but annihilated. The problem was almost the entire strike wing was landing on the carriers and taking on new ordnance, a process which even elite carriers couldn't do in less than five minutes.  
It all added up to a gap in the Cascan fleet, a five to ten minute period when their heaviest weapons were unable to affect the battle, and with typical planning and foresight that was exactly when Jha'dur had timed her fleets to enter gun range with the Cascan main line. Himmat involuntarily gnashed his teeth, it was going to be a hard ten minutes but his forces were far from powerless. As far as he was concerned the Cascor still had the advantage.  
"Order our cruisers to engage as best they can, keep them mobile, it is a delaying action until the strike wings rearm." The Admiral ordered with grimness. "Where are our own Strike squadrons?"  
"Sir, regrettably we lost contact with them a few minutes ago." Nilinc said. "They hit the Dilgar flagship but appear to have had no effect."

It had been a gamble, but Himmat was sure his elite squadrons would pull off such an audacious attack even in the face of the Dilgar flagship. If he was wrong about that, what else could he be wrong about.  
"Concentrate fighter attacks on enemy capital ships." He changed the subject. "Destroy or disable their heavy guns, without them our own warships might just stand a chance."  
"Relaying orders to Wing Commanders."  
"I want our main cruiser force to engage head on, but deploy reserves to the the far right flank." Himmat ordered, a plan quickly forming in his mind. "We can't stop a direct assault, but we can use that against them."  
"How sir?"  
"We counter attack." He bared his teeth in a cold grin. "Let the Dilgar attack, give ground before them, then send our reserves to attack their flanks and break their lines."  
It was a huge risk, the Dilgar ships greatly outclassed the vessels Himmat would deploy, but if he could concentrate them on a specific weakpoint and tie down the best Dilgar ships with the bulk of his cruiser force it might work, disrupting the carefully laid out Dilgar formations and making the job easier for his strike squadrons which should have been rearmed and launched back into battle by then.  
Broken, confused, out of formation and isolated the Dilgar would be easy prey for the Cascor, and then finally their war of terror would end right here before they could approach the homeworld itself.  
"Issue the orders." Himmat was suddenly enthused with energy, this new path opening up and showing the way to victory. "Time to range?"  
The fear in his seconds voice was clear, even though he fought to keep it out. "Right now Admiral, they are locking weapons and engaging."

The first few seconds of the Dilgar barrage banished the blackness of space that surrounded them and filled the night with light and spectacle. They had accepted the Cascan attack, bled from it and abandoned their wounded comrades to the scant mercy of their enemies. They drove stonily on waiting for the moment they would hit back and avenge their losses, the time when they could unleash their vengeange and glory in the defeat of these strange alien creatures.  
Now they savoured that moment of revenge, the lightly built Cascan cruisers melted apart beneath the massed batteries of the Dilgar warships, shredding and vanishing like paper in a firestorm. Ship after ship flared and exploded barely having time to fire back before they were consumed, the hammer of the Dilgar navy not even slowing down as the carved forward and began piercing towards the heart of the Cascan battle force.

Tullaq saw it but couldn't react, she wanted to try and do something more productive, to fire on a Dilgar dreadnought or strafe a warcruiser, but all her thought and concentration was bent on the task of simply staying alive. She rolled her Star Skater over the fractured hull of a Cascan cruiser, flames caressing the bronze hull as she darted through venting gas and fuel in an effort to throw off her pursuer. A glance at the rear sensors showed it was not enough, the black Thorun was still with her twisting and turning as wildly as she was, matching every desperate move and every suicidal sprint between the engaging battleships.  
Tullaq had a reputation for reckless flying and she was certainly earning it today, dodging a massive Alpha strike from a Dilgar battlegroup that turned five cruisers around her into glowing scrap, the concussion from the explosions punching into her chest. Tullaq snapped the nose around and tumbled towards the Dilgar ships, skimming close to the hull of a Dreadnought flying physically between the hull and a depressing gun barrel. A few guns tried to track her, but at such close range the greater danger came from hitting a sensor dome or communication mast.

None of it worked, she still could not shake her Dilgar tail, the large fighter proving deceptively agile and precise. It had not fired yet but was well within weapons range and could have taken one or two shots as she had changed course through the melee. The fact he hadn't worried and annoyed her, as if the Dilgar pilot was playing with her, testing her skills perhaps before attacking. If he wanted to see what she was made of then Tullaq was happy to oblige, she just needed the right moment.  
Her view was filled with movement, from warships and fighters scrambling for superior combat positions to missiles and white hot wreckage spinning randomly across her path. She saw the main engines of a Cascan cruiser swat two Dilgar and five Cascan fighters out of the sky as it was blown away from a burning ship. A shower of molten metal flamed past like white rain, splashing on her fighters nose and cooling into silver puddles. Everywhere something was happening, some distant life or death struggle which she had to fight to block out, to focus solely on the fighter behind her.  
Tullaq calmed herself, forced her anxiety out of her mind and prepared a plan to deal with the Dilgar fighter. She looked for an appropriate location, an area of heavy fighting she could use to try and distract or decoy the Thorun, then headed for it at full speed. The sky burned around as she dropped the Skater past burning wrecks and hurtling fighters, all of them too busy to notice her little fighter

A trio of Ion bolts grazed by Ari'shan's fighter forcing him to take some slight evasive action, though his concern was always on the fighter weaving ahead of him. The Cascan fighters that fired on him rushed past, not willing to take the time to properly engage his Thorun and instead closed on a Destroyer, losing half their number to point defences in the process.  
He had to admire the courage of this small statured race, despite massive losses they were still throwing themselves without hesitation right into the teeth of the Dilgar fleet, and amazingly they were causing damage. Wherever he glanced he could see damage to the Dilgar ships, ranging from a few hull breaches to massive sections of structure missing. The friendly warships were having the best of the battle right now, mauling the Cascan battleline and smashing anything in their way as they drove for the Carriers hiding behind, but this lull wouldn't last long and Ari'shan would be needed elsewhere.

The Cascan fighter dropped under the engine block of a passing Strike Cruiser, vanishing from view for a few moments until Ari'shan followed it around, skimming the dirty green hull and feeling the reverberations of the engine thrust even through the vacuum of space, a tumult of polarised particles and gas. It took a moment for his scanners to adjust after passing by, and apparently that was all the time his Cascan friend needed to turn the tables and attack.  
The Thorun rolled hard, careening away from the nose of the Star Skater, the brutal looking Dilgar craft a sharp contrast to the elegant and flowing Cascan design. Tullaq opened fire, the energy bolts barely missing Ari'shan as he fought against G forces and the stress limits of his fighters air frame to clear the path of fire. One shot struck just behind his cockpit, bending armour and smashing his threat warning computers. It took an eternal two seconds of intense effort to get clear, Ari'shan's brow was heavy with perspiration and his entire body ground and ached as the G-forces subsided, and he loved every accelerated heartbeat. He had waited for the Cascan pilot to fire first and issue the challenge, now the duel could begin in earnest.

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

"Enemy cruisers are locking on." Captain An'jash warned. "Three contacts."  
Jha'dur smiled widely. "Draw them in Captain, let them see us and tempt them to attack."  
The Dreadnought was unique in the Dilgar fleet, a huge sign post advertising Jha'dur's presence to an enemy. She did not hide from them, she wanted her opponents to know who they were fighting so her notoriety would affect their judgement. It did however mean that her ship came under a lot of fire as desperate ships and pilots tried to remove her evil from the universe. Rather than avoid this she encouraged it, deliberately enticing enemies to attack her ship directly. They were often so focused on her Black Dreadnought they didn't pay attention to the lethal net of escorts surrounding Jha'dur.  
The three Cascan ships were stopped just outside weapons range, a mixture of Heavy Cruisers and regular Dreadnoughts cutting them to pieces in a few seconds. Those who tried to force their way towards the Deathwalker tended to be the very bravest of the very stupid. In either case they were best removed as enemies and threats. In this case Jha'dur held the opinion the Cascor were counted among the bravest warriors of the galaxy, and the most noble.  
It wasn't going to make any difference.

"The way is clear Warmaster." An'jash reported.  
"Enemy Carrier group?"  
"Dead ahead, they are arming weapons."  
"That is of little concern." Jha'dur dismissed. "Deploy the fleet, final attack positions."  
This was it, the moment of greatest risk and the gamble Jha'dur hoped would break the Cascan Navy within the next few minutes. Her fleet was set up in a way to best weather the incessant fighter attacks of the Cascan fleet, and it had worked quite well with losses running at predicted levels. However now they were facing warships she needed to alter the formation from defensive to offensive, she needed to hit those Carriers with the maximum force she could muster and destroy them quickly. If they delayed or stalled the Cascor could regain the initiative, and with the fleet no longer in defensive formation the results could be disasterous.  
"Forward ships coming into range." The sensor officer called out.  
"Time to Cascan strike wing launch?"  
"Estimate one minute." An'jash returned.  
"Then let us not waste this opportunity, all ships have their orders. Unleash them."  
With swelling pride she watched the tight formations disperse and begin to swoop down on the sluggish Cascan heavy Carriers. Her Strike Fleet was the envy of the other Warmasters, and was known to give Narn and Centauri Admirals sleepless nights. But it was their effect on the League that really pleased her, they were as merciless as any Dilgar unit but would not linger in the moment of the kill, they would not glory in their supremacy but fight with utter focus and professionalism. There was no better fighting force in the galaxy, she had proven that before, today it would be proven again.  
Only one ship had really caused disproportionate damage to her fleet, the human cruiser _Persephone_ she had encountered five months earlier. Even now her Brother was working to keep Earth out of the war, doing his part to ensure total Dilgar success. Now she had to focus on doing the same thing.  
"Full attack." She ordered. "No survivors."

For Tullaq things were not going well. On the positive side she was now chasing the Thorun, in the game of Cat and Mouse she was now the cat, slightly ironic considering the Feline nature of her opponent But while chasing was one thing, actually hitting the enemy fighter was something else. Whoever was flying it was clearly a natural pilot, the heavy fighter was darting with the agility of a craft half its weight, the pressure on the person inside must have been intense yet to Tullaq's trained eye he never made a mistake.  
The battle was drawing closer to its defining moment as the Dilgar drove on, the black Thorun always staying close to the frontline darting around the bigger warships. None of them cared for Tullaq or the other fighters buzzing ineffectually around them, every gun they had fired at the Cascan carriers turning the bulky vessels into hollowed out shells.  
She held her course and her nerve, dodging within feet of the battling warships, Cascan and Dilgar as he wo fleets engaged at point blank range. The Dilgar weren't stopping or settling into bombardment position, they were just ramming their way past the Cascan forces intent on reaching clear space beyond.

With a tremendous volley a Dilgar Dreadnough engaged the nearest Cascan carrier, the square looking bulbous ship didn't stand a chance, returning fire weakly as Particle bolts and laser cannons rent its hul and poured out air and wreckage into the void. Rather than avoid such carnage the Dilgar pilot headed towards it, dodging thousand ton pieces of burning metal as he raced around the hull of the carrier. The ship was juddering with each impact, its hull plates rippling as the energy of the impacts was transmitted through the metal. Seams burst in geysers of white as atmosphere escaped and crystallised into ice, clouding her view of the Thorun.  
Tullaq opened fire, a steady stream of Ion bolts searing past the breaking hull towards the Dart fighter, which seemed to be always one step away. A table from the Carriers mess deck shattered over her fighters nose, she never even blinked, her focus was so intense she didn't allow herself to look at the detritus thrown out by the dying ship for fear of distraction. Her whole life was bound to this one fighter, and she was not letting him escape.  
Her sensors shrilled a warning, the Carrier was about to go critical, its fuel systems smashed apart and volatile liquid and gases seeping throughout the ship. The Dilgar saw it too and accelerated, pusing his engines to the limit as Tullaq matched him. Beneath her the Carrier bulged as internal explosions pushed against the hull and began forcing through breaches and weak points, pillars of fire reaching the heavens.  
The engines went frst in a storm of blue fire, fuel lines jetted fire to the storage tanks that blew out both sides of the Carrier and illuminated space for miles around. The Thorun was already clear and Tullaq had to grit her teeth as the wracking explosions jolter her fighter, debris bouncing off the Skater like hail. She barely made it to safe distance as the jump engines went up, the relatively small amount of Quantium 40 that made Hyperspace travel possible released its energy in a blast that simply vapourised most of the ship, only pieces of the super strong weapon firing chambers survived as recognizable objects.

She caught the tail end of the blast, launching her fighter into a tight spin that she had to fight against, alternating bursts from her thrusters to stabilise the roll and keep her from slamming into the side of a nearby warship. A very embarrassing end for a pilot of her calibre. As she regained control she noticed the Thorun had vanished, and an instant later her threat warning system started screeching at her.  
She didn't need to check, she knew it was him. Instinctively she went into an evasive spin, just fast enough to evade the incoming fire. Tullaq activated braking thrusters and cut her forward motion, an extremely dangerous tactic as it meant the Dilgar pilot could have just flown into the back of her. Instead he raced by as planned, a black streak glowing orange in the reflected flames and flashes that inundated the battlefront. She fired blind, her vision hazy from G-force and put power back into her engines as she regained control of her senses.  
The Dilgar fighter was still ahead, blue engines blazing in her gunsights. The duel had turned again, and this time Tullaq was going to finish it.

Carrier _Sky Queen_

The deck was vibrating, shaking the nurtured trees around the edges of the command deck. Himmat was steadying himself as the sluggish warship took evasive action, rotating at a painfully slow speed to avoid the thrust of the Dilgar attack. It wasn't going to work.  
"Enemy ships locking on!"  
"Hard to starboard!" Himmat ordered. "Return fire with whatever we've got!"  
The Cascan carriers were big ships and did carry a fairly decent weapons load, but they were simply outgunned by the Dilgar ships that were designed for exactly this kind of intense direct combat. He saw the Dilgar ships open fire, watching the energy weapons cross from one ship to the other, and then followed the example of his command crew and braced for impact.  
His ships armour barely slowed the course of the energy volley, bolts slammed and expanded against the flagships hull leaving deep holes through the side. It felt like the side of the vessel was been struck by a massive hammer, the echoes of the impacts were deafening and he could see the far wall warping and twisting as the metal bent even at this deep location.  
"Roll the ship!" he yelled. "Present an undamaged side to the enemy!"  
It was easier said than done, the bulky carrier began to twist by the more Agine Dilgar warship stayed with them, tearing through the weakened flagship in a flurry of violence.  
"We're losing her!" his commander screamed. "Hull breaches on all decks!"  
"Get our fighters out!" Himmat yelled. "I don't care if they're armed, just get them out!"  
The Dilgar ship was circling like a Shark sensing blood, the return fire from the flagship was largely ineffective and did nothing to discourage the attack. One of the _Sky Queen's_ engines exploded ripping apart a gash stretching across half the ship. Main power failed and artificial gravity cut lifting Himmat of his feet as the continuous impacts bounced him off the deck. Every board on the bridge was signalling a critical failure somewhere as the guns fell silent.  
He watched in silence, the roaring explosions and cries of panic dimming as all his attention focused an an image of the Dilgar ship turning about to present it's heaviest guns to the carrier preparing a killing blow. Most of the strike craft were still onboard about to be immolated with the carrier, it wasn't the end he would have liked.  
The Dilgar warship did not get a chance, from its flank a Cascan cruiser blazed into range and opened fire. It didn't stand a chance in a straight fight with a Dreadnought, but the Captain wasn't planning on fighting fire. His ship held course and collided with the Dilgar warship, lurching it in the opposite direction and sending it tumbling out of control jetting fire from across its entire surface.  
Himmat yelled in triumph and gratitude, the dignity of his rank lost in a moment of pure relief.  
"I want those fighters out now!" he called over the cheers. "Get them clear and safe, then order them to counter attack!"

The Cascan main cruiser line was gone, but the reserves were now in position to launch their attack. Backed up by whatever strike aircraft were available they hit the Dilgar right flank, concentrating on one group at a time and overwhelming them with superior numbers and fire. More squadrons joined the attack every few seconds as they finished arming and launched, taking their toll on the Dilgar fleet.  
Yet the Dilgar did not react, they held their plan and ignored the counter attack, sacrificing ships to slow down the enemy but not changing formation to meet them head on and crush the attack. It was well within their means and would require barely a fifth of the fleet to crush the Cascan cruisers, but time was critical to Jha'dur and she would spend llives rather than seconds.  
In the centre the battle was desperate, Carriers were burning everywhere as the Dilgar carved their way through. Escorts put themselves between their Carriers and enemy fire, but it wasn't enough. The light Cascan ships died swiftly, overpowered by the Dilgar concentration of force leaving the Carriers helpless to avoid the same fate. Kamikaze attacks became the norm, with Cascan ships and fighters doing all they could to halt the inexorable advance.  
At the same time Dilgar light warships rammed Cascan carriers, the Warmaster had ordered the destruction of the enemy fleet immediately at any cost, and it was better to die following those orders than it was to return to Jha'dur in failure. They were losing scores of ships, but the Cascor were suffering the worst and if they didn't make a difference soon they were going to lose every carrier.

Ari'shan was aware of the situation, his sensors told him enough to know the final crunch was going to happen soon and he needed to act fast to end this duel. That did bother him, he was finding this action exhilarating, easily the best moment of his existence so far. The Cascan pilot was both skilled and dedicated, a worth combination that had turned out an excellent pilot, one who had pushed Ari'shan to his limits.  
That fighter was now behind him, very close too, barely three fighter lengths and matching his every move. He stayed clear of its guns by turning and twisting as randomly and sharply as he could, but the Cascan pilot was getting more accurate. He ducked under an incoming flight of Cascan fighters, the nimble fighters racing by at ridiculously high speed, then skirted around a Damaged destroyer getting buffeted by the backwash from the engines. Inevitably the Cascor pilot was still with him, Ari'shan admired that.  
All around the Cascan fleet was falling apart, ships spun out of control as either blackened and charred hulks or little more than hot shards of metal. The Dilgar fleet was exercising its precision attacks once again, behind the front line of the advance nothing was left alive. Dodging past all the wreckage was getting harder, this was a truly titanic clash and both sides were losing a lot of people, but Jha'dur had yet to play her final card, and Ari'shan wanted to be far from here when that happened. At best he had two more minutes before the Warmaster would be ready, and he had orders to obey

"Another Dreadnought!"  
Himmat snapped his head around at the warning, the action spinning him more than expected in the zero gravity. His ship was barely active, a frigate could have finished them off, a full Dreadnought was just overkill.  
"Come about." He ordered. "Keep the hangar doors facing away from the enemy."  
Half of the Carrier was a tangled mess of black girders where the previous Dilgar ship and mauled them, their escorts had fought to the death to keep the Carriers alive but there was now nobody left in front of the Dilgar advance, just a handful of cruisers. But that did not mean the battle was over.  
While the Cascan carrier fleet was annihilated most had managed to launch their rearmed strike wing before they fell, those craft were still the best weapons the Cascor had and were massing for another huge strike on the Dilgar fleet. With no anti-fighter nukes and now deployed offensively the Dilgar fleet was a dream target for those pilots. The Carriers were gone, but their reason for existing endured and they would still see the Dilgar fleet burn in retribution.  
On top of that Himmat still had a few hundred smaller ships active, most of them driving into the Dilgar flank. Between strike wings and his surviving warships he still thought he could win, but it didn't look like he was going to be around to see the final result. He regretted that, but so long as he had done his job and guaranteed victory he would accept his fate as the price the gods of war demanded to save Cascor.

The command ship groaned and screeched as the Dilgar ship fired on the helpless ship, ripping deep into the already open hull, two rounds punched all the way through and broke the back of the carrier, its front and back halves bending and splitting apart.  
"Fighter wing?" Himmat shouted, his words barely audible over the death throes of his ship.  
"The last one just launched!" his commander reported. "They're clear!"  
Himmat nodded. "Then we have done our job and go with a clear conscience to whatever awaits."  
A large wooden carving bearing the ships name was splintered by shrapnel that scythed across the command deck, leaving the right side of the chamber a raging inferno. Flames billowed and spun into funnels in the zero gravity quickly threatening to fill the room. Around the sealed door air began escaping drawing flames toward it as the ships atmosphere vented from the broken hull.  
"Order them to engage at will." Himmat ignored the fire and looked on straight ahead. "Our thoughts and our spirits go with them into battle, though we fall we continue to fight beside them."  
The Dilgar Dreadnought cruised past at flank speed and picked off structural weak points with close ranged weapons fire. The _Sky Queen_ died a quick death, ripped in half and left behind by the invaders in the coldness of deep space, a discarded relic of Dilgar brutality.

Ari'shan's Thorun darted between the two halves of the flagship weaving frantically through the debris strewn gap between the wreck. A sharpened piece of metal pierced his forward fuselage and wedged in the nose cone, and he found himself bizarrely flying through a cloud of bright green leaves and twigs that had spilled from somewhere inside the ship. His scans showed no more active carriers and the Dilgar fleet was clearing the debris field left by the battle, meaning he had to rush and catch up with them.  
He had one more trick to play, one of the features that made the Thorun so deadly. He dropped around the carrier's shattered hull buying him one extra second, strained against his seat restraints, took a deep breath, then put his port engine into full reverse.  
The effect was to throw the fighter into a flat spin at full speed, something no living person could control, not even a pilot as gifted as Ari'shan. His body was hammered by G-Forces to the extent that he couldn't move or breath, he couldn't even move the stick or throttle controlling the Dart Fighter. The Thorun was equipped with a safety system that would correct such a dangerous spin, but it would take a few seconds to engage. Ari'shan didn't pray the system kicked in early, he was counting on that delay.  
There was no way he could time the spin to stop just as the Cascan fighter came into his gunsights, and even if he had full control the enemy craft was too close to line up for a regular shot. He had to go on instinct, making a supreme effort to pull the trigger and keep his finger depressed. As the Thorun spun wildly it threw energy bolts in a wide spread around it, rotating through a full three hundred and sixty degrees twice before the auto pilot took over.  
Half way through the final spin the Cascan fighter blurred past, he barely noticed it in the kaleidoscope of light and blank that had come to dominate his world, and it took him a few seconds to regain control of his senses after the Thorun stopped spinning.

The Star Skater was spinning end over end bleeding fuel and air. Ari'shans blind firing had caught the fighters starboard engine and left the side of the fighter tarnished black. The Pilot still seemed to be alive, thrusters fired and the leak abruptly stopped as systems were re-routed and the craft began to stabilise. But there was no way that fighter could now hurt him, the duel was over.  
"All Thorun units." He recognized Jha'dur's voice, it was rare for the Warmaster to issue orders personally, usually they went through Captain Anjash. For Jha'dur to speak directly to the fleet gave extra gravitas to the orders. "Return to the fleet immediately, I repeat, return immediately."  
For a Warmaster to repeat something was also extraordinary , nobody was going to dare hesitate in the face of that, Ari'shan included.  
But he also knew what was coming next, he knew the fate that awaited this brave Cascan pilot and it was not one the alien deserved, whatever the teachings of his race. This pilot was a kindred spirit, a Knight of the skies and deserved to be treated as such. Ari'shan had a duty, more than that, it was a calling to fight with honour and treat those who challenged him as he would any worthy warrior. He would give this pilot what he or she had earned.  
He closed on the wounded fighter and locked his targeting computer on, he would still make the rendezvous and not disappoint Jha'dur, or fail his honour.

Dreadnought _Deathwalker_

"Fighters responding, they're breaking off and rejoining the fleet." An'jash said in a brusque professional manner. "Cascan craft lining up for a major strike, shall I order the fleet to defensive formations?"  
"No, there is no need." Jha'dur said. "Activate Jump engines, set course back to Mitoc."  
"Warmaster, if I may," An'jash gasped. "You are retreating!"  
"No, we are leaving." She corrected. "Leaving because we have achieve dour objective, the Cascan Navy is dead."  
An'jash double checked the tactical display to make sure she was reading it right. "But the main strength of the Cascan heavy fighter and bomber force is still out there."  
"But the Carriers are not, and they were the key." The Warmaster was grinning widely.  
"But the fighters launched before we destroyed the carrier fleet, I don't see…"  
"The location Captain." Jha'dur said. "I chose this place because it is dead space, three light years from the nearest Jump gate or Cascan colony. There is no way in or out unless your ship is jump capable."  
An'jash's eyes widened as she understood the subtlety of Jha'dur's plan.  
"The Cascan carriers had Jump engines," Jha'dur continued. "They were the way in, and the only way out."  
"And by destroying them you maroon the entire Cascan force in the middle of nowhere with no chance of help." An'jash shook her head in amazement.  
"Fighters are the greatest weapon of Cascor, but also their greatest weakness. They have low endurance, and without a carrier or base to refuel them, or a jump gate to transit to a nearby colony, well it's just a matter of time isn't it?"  
"We're not going to engage those fighters, " An'jash figured out. "We just leave them to suffocate."  
"Why risk ships when we can just let nature take it's course?"

Something occurred to the Captain. "What about the cruisers?"  
"They aren't jump capable." Jha'dur answered. "They have supplies for a week or so, perhaps a month if they are lucky. But no one is coming to help them, and even at full burn the jump gate is far beyond their reach in normal space. They will die eventually, the fighters will be dead in a few minutes to an hour, depending on class."  
"Jump engines charged." An'jash recognized. "Cascan forces closing hard."  
"Take us out of here." Jha'dur ordered with finality. "This battle is over. Once we are clear signal Omelos and inform the Supreme Warmaster of our success, and ask about the conference with Earth Alliance."  
"As you wish Warmaster."  
The battleship turned away from the desperate Cascan pilots, opening a path into hyperspace and vanishing, the fleet following suit. Some Cascan fighters made it through with the Dilgar ships, but the remaining Thoruns or point defences quickly dealt with them. It would be regarded as a great victory, a triumph of Dilgar cunning and courage, but Jha'dur was concerned. What she had done was not honourable, she had doomed the Cascan Navy to a slow death, which she could gladly live with, but in so doing had sent a lot of Dilgar warriors to their death. She had lost two thirds of her Thorun contingent, higher than expected due to spirited resistance from the Cascor. She sent them into battle knowing almost certainly they would die, it was as good as killing them herself.  
She would kill anyone who crossed her, but those pilots had done no such thing, they had put their faith in her to lead them safely to victory, and she had signed away their lives without a second thought until know. They had trusted her and followed her word without question, and they were now dead in their thousands. She rationalised that it was necessary, that their lives had saved many more in the long run, and that war meant death, but that wasn't what bothered her.  
What bothered her was that she didn't actually feel any emotion over their deaths, she just didn't care. And when she analysed it that scared her more than anything else in the universe. She wasn't the same person who joined the Military all those years ago, she wasn't even the same person as she was one year ago. Something inside her was missing, and she hadn't even noticed it was gone. The war was changing her, and not for the better.

Tullaq's eyes were filled with tears, of anger, frustration and most of all pure grief. The fleet was gone, her people trapped and alone in the vastness of space to die long, slow daths and her world was now virtually defenceless. The Cascor had gambled everything on a decisive battle, and they had lost. Now nothing was going to stop the Dilgar attacking home.  
She was ready for death, the Black Thorun had surprised her with the most suicidal stunt she had seen and crippled her Skater. She had engines and life support, but her weapons were offline and totally destroyed. She had recovered and sen the figter looming over her, its systems armed as the Dilgar fled battle.  
Then it had fired, not its guns but a grapple. It had towed her with it through the vortex of a Dilgar cruiser and into Hyperspace away from the doom that had fallen on her friends and had pointed her towards the Cascan home beacon. She was speechless, shocked beyond words that a race so cruel that had just condemned all her friends would do something like this for her. The Pilot of the Black Thorun had come in close to get a look at her through the canopy, he saluted, bowed his head and then left. Tullaq was too stunned to do anything more than watch him go.  
She had recovered, locked onto the beacon and with her surviving engine set course for home. It would be tight but she should make it. She thought today would define her life, and in a way she didn't expect it had. After today everything had changed, and Tullaq cried because of it.  
Behind her the Cascan Navy went to a slow death, and ahead the planetary bombardment ships that they had been hunting were taking a circuitous route to the Cascan homeworld, armed with Jha'dur's latest weapons of evil. The great hope of the Cascan people had failed, like the Hyach, andBrakiri, and Abbai before them. The old powers of the galaxy were falling one after the other before the onslaught of these upstart Dilgar, and nobody had the skill or willpower to stop them.  
The League would soon belong to the Dilgar.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 41

Chapter 45

Sshumssha

Homeworld, Abbai Matriarchy

With the silent confidence of victors the Dilgar battlegroup cruised blatantly through space just beyond the effective range of the homeworld defence grid. The ships patrolling this system and maintaining the blockade had not been present when the great battle had taken place, they were new ships and untested crews deployed here as a safe option. They were to familiarise themselves with their ships and take the occasional run at the planet to test their weapons and defences, but mostly they just kept their distance and let the Abbai see that they were beaten.

The Abbai however did not agree. The Abbai fleet had been decimated, it's few survivors were sheltering beneath the homeworlds multilayered mine fields, satellite batteries and warstations, still considered the best defensive network in the known galaxy. It had to be, it protected all the Abbai had left. Their colonies were gone, burned or poisoned by Deathwalker, the majority of their military personnel drifting cold and lifeless in the space beyond their world and their allies cut off, maybe even conquered themselves.

Nobody had heard anything from outside in months, the Dilgar jammers prevented communication and the various probes sent into hyperspace never returned. With the jump gate cut off and only a handful of surviving jump capable ships available to them the Abbai were forced to be highly conservative with their assets. For a long time none of the government wanted to risk a precious cruiser on a manned mission to gather news from the League, but after so long there was no other option.

"Four minutes and Fifty three seconds precisely." First officer Trinki reported.

"Exactly on time, just like clockwork." Captain Cashik's thin lips smiled slightly. She had seen the worst of the fighting when the Dilgar attacked and her ship, the Syonar, was one of the few survivors from the Abbai pre-war navy.

Weapons officer Franir snorted in derision. "Dilgar efficiency."

Cashik nodded in response to her Brakiri colleague, a mercenary hired for his skill with the ships offensive power. Many Abbai ships used Brakiri or Drazi 'Advisors' as their main weapons officer as the Abbai found it distasteful to attack enemies and found it easier to use aliens to actually press the firing button. It was a fairly hollow principle at the best of times, and had largely been discarded in this time of war.

"The gap between patrol groups is always Four minutes and fifty three seconds." Cashik confirmed. "That's our head start. Bring engines online, signal our escorts to go to ready stations and arm weapons. We go after the next pass."

Captain Cashik had been the officer selected to lead this mission into League space, a breakout from the Dilgar siege to contact their allies among the League powers and pull together a coalition to liberate Sshumssha. On board she had packed in as much food and fuel as the ship could carry for a long duration mission and had some of her homeworlds precious supply of Quantium 40 to use in case her Jump engines were damaged.

But her main cargo was a diplomatic entourage, Ambassador Itala and her aide Kalika would be the ones responsible for actually conducting the negotiations with friendly powers, Cashik's job was to deliver them safely and make sure the Dilgar didn't take them. It wasn't stated out loud, but implicit in her orders was the provision that the ambassador could not be taken alive, and if Cashik couldn't evade the Dilgar she had to make sure Itala couldn't be broken under torture.

She had been ordered to commit murder against a fellow Abbai if the need arose. It was unthinkable, so much in contrast with every aspect of Abbai life and teaching that the simple fact that her superiors had ordered it proved the Abbai way of life was over. The war had already destroyed her civilisation and transformed it into something far more callous and vicious. Yet despite the loss of their values, they were still alive and Cashik knew if they blindly followed the teachings of their past the Dilgar would have slaughtered them in a week.

She had accepted the orders without question, and despite the screams of her conscience she knew that if the time came she would take her sidearm, put it against the head of one of the most respected and loved Abbai alive today, and pull the trigger without hesitation.

"Escorts ready." Trinki stated, her youthful vigour turned to blank professionalism by the battles they had survived. "Dilgar patrol is crossing our sector."

"Give them another minute." Cashik poised, forcing herself not to leap from her seat with the tension. She felt full of energy given by fear and anticipation. The atmosphere on the bridge crackled with nervous anticipation as the group of red dots representing Dilgar ships moved away.

"That's it, they're moving away." Trinki reported. "The way is clear!"

Cashik muttered a quick prayer, then focused on the display screens and gave the order.

"All ahead flank, charge jump engines, standby for hyperspace."

The engines growled into life giving Cashik a moment of anxiety, the engines hadn't been run at full power for months and she was relieved when they engaged as hoped. The Syonar broke orbit and began to run into space, three frigates following her upwards and preparing for the inevitable battle.

Cashik's escort was made up of Tiraca class frigates, vessels that had been designed as a direct response to the Dilgar threat and had largely dispensed with standard Abbai building procedures. They were small, easy to build and armed offensively rather than defensively, constructed around an assault laser that would cut through Dilgar armour like paper. On the down side they were much weaker in protection than most Abbai ships making them easy kills in a large battle. They were mass produced heavily armed and expendable, and it had left a bitter taste in the mouths of the Abbai people.

They had however helped save their world and had proven their utility in battle, they were the only ship the Abbai could build under the blockade and their only chance at pushing back against the Dilgar if the blockade grew worse.

"Breaking orbit now."

"Hold course." Cashik acknowledged. "Prepare to jump when we reach minimum safe distance."

The ship had the ability to open a jump point anywhere, even in an atmosphere if necessary, but even for a race as advanced as the Abbai it was hard to predict exactly where the jump point would form, the exact location where the system would find a weakpoint in real space and create a vortex. With such a tightly integrated orbital defence network opening a vortex without knowing exactly where it would form could be disastarous, Cashik had seen a Brakiri mining outpost utterly destroyed by a careless Vortex opening on top of it, and the Abbai couldn't afford damage like that to their defences.

Therefore they had to head out beyond the defences, past the Dilgar blockade and into open space.

The chime from the sensors drew the attention of every eye on the bridge, a warning that they had been detected.

"Dilgar sensor buoy just scanned us." Trinki read the report. "Heavy ECM, we're in the jammers."

There was no turning back now, and no calls for help would be heard by the meagre defence fleet behind them. From now until the liberation of their world they would be alone, separate from their people. It was almost an exhile, to live apart from all they cared about, but if they did not succeed in this cause then Sshumssha would be snatched away and become a dead and barren memorial to conquest and complacency.

"Can we raise our escorts?" Cashik asked, referring to the three Frigates.

"Barely." Trinki winced.

"The Dilgar will have seen us moving, with the jammers our sensors will be at reduced efficiency, watch for any anomalies. It might be the only warning we get."

There was hardly a sound, as if keeping silent would somehow let them avoid the Dilgar patrols no doubt converging on this area. The range on the sensors had been cut to nothing from interference, overpowered by the jamming satellites that would be feeding data to the enemy. While the Dilgar ships themselves were similarly blind their data links would let them take the first shot. The crew had to be ready.

"Captain," Franir spoke haltingly, trying to make something out from his screen. "I think I saw something, almost dead ahead, a power signature through the static."

"Anything now?"

"No Ma'am, it just blinked for a… Incoming! Multiple missiles dead ahead!"

The silence evaporated as battle alerts and proximity alarms rang out warning the crew of danger. Cashik vaulted for her chair and strapped herself tightly in.

"Evasive starboard!" she ordered as she fastened the buckles. "All defences open fire! Maximum suppression!"

The Syontar dropped like a rock, turning as she did so to bring her defensive arrays to bear. The quad gun turrets chugged into life throwing up a thick curtain of yellow pulses into the path of the missiles, knocking down a handful of them. However the missiles were performing their own evasive action making them increasingly harder to hit as they darted in closer.

"Fire impeders and divert power to the shields!" Cashik ordered fast. "Who's firing on us?"

"No contacts!" Franir said. "They're hiding in the jammers.!"

The warship fired particle impeders, a cloud of polarised metal fragments and refractive materials that disrupted sensor locks and dispersed energy weapons. The missiles ploughed into it and most exploded, only two made it past for a terminal approach.

"Brace!"

The twin missiles exploded brightly on the shields, the energy wave from the detonation overloading the shields and wracking the hull, throwing anything not secured down into the walls opposite, including Officer Trinki.

"Damage report?"

"Port shields down, capacitors are recharging, thirty seconds!" Franir shouted. "Minor hull damage."

"Resume course, fire on any targets you see!"

The three Frigates formed up with the cruiser and began firing at any contact or brief blip amid the sensor static, a funnel of particle pulses vanishing into the distance with rarely any results to show for it. More missiles lanced for the small fleet but with the ships actively fighting they didn't get too close.

"Track the missile origin point and fire." Cashik said. "Sweeping blast and look for explosions."

The ships main laser cannons flashed and propagated a pair of long red beams out in the direction of the missiles, sweeping in a circular pattern but hitting nothing.

"No contact." Franir shook his head in frustration. "The missiles could be on a looping course, launched from miles away."

"Captain," It was Trinki, nursing a gash on the side of her bald scalp. "Coming up on the perimeter."

At the far side of the jammers were the Dilgar minefields, a series of floating energy weapons or dormant missiles designed to pick up targets that venture into their control zone and engage automatically. No Abbai ship had made it this far out and Cashik had no real idea what to expect.

"Two contacts ahead." Franir reported sharply. "Sensors resolving, they're destroyers!"

"Shields double front!" Cashik ordered. "Fire impeders and ready to fire on right hand ship."

The Dilgar warships launched missiles, dropping them out of tubes and leaving them suspended for a heartbeat before their engines ignited and pushed the warheads toward the Abbai ships. A few seconds after they were joined by a volley of Bolter rounds as the Dilgar swept in for the kill.

The Abbai didn't hang around, firing defensive weapons and preparing to engage the Dilgar directly. The impeder clouds again did their job, lessening the attack and weakening the Dilgar energy bolts to a point where they barely hurt the shields. The destroyers adjusted course to bypass the impeder cloud and tracked their weapons for a clean close range shot at the Abbai group, planning to deliver a devastating broadside and end the fight in one pass.

But Cashik was ready. As soon as the Dilgar warships circled the cloud they were bisected by the Abbai force, the three Frigates attacked one Destroyer while the Syontar took on the second. The Abbai did not like weapons, but when they did finally deign to develop offensive weapons they had a great weight of technology to invest in the project. Abbai lasers were intensely focused and designed to spear enemy ships with a lance of energy rather than slice them apart like most races preferred. They were an elegant and efficient answer to a problem, designed for minimal collateral damage but excessive armour penetration. In theory they would cripple enemy ships rather than blast them to pieces.

The Syontar opened fire, the first time in months, and despite the lack of practice both laser cannons converged perfectly at the centre of the Dilgar destroyer. The red beams burned through the hull quickly leaving boiling metal surrounding a neat hole carved by the weapons. They didn't stop but continued coring through the warship until they found their target, the fuel lines taking plasma from the reactor system to the drive system.

The centre of the ship erupted in blue and purple fire, jets of intensely hot matter were thrown in all directions like a burst fire hose, a spectacular blinding display that tore the ship to pieces and left perhaps a third of its mass intact but ruined.

The other destroyer fared no better with the Frigates hitting it with three beams, stabbing through the ship from end to end in glare of secondary explosions. The ship fell out of control, half it's engines out while the remainder spun the ship wildly across the path of the Abbai fleet, barely missing the Syontar. It disappeared back into the static field, running lights blinking on and off as it's power fluctuated leaving a trail of ice as a reminder of its existence.

"There'll be more of them beyond the jammers." Cashik warned. "Stay alert."

"Six minutes until we clear the jamming field." Trinki spoke up. "We should be able to jump after that."

Cashik considered risking a jump now, but with all the interference thrown up by the Dilgar jamming satellites it could cause problems for the jump engines, not a risk she was willing to take.

"Captain, we're being scanned!" Franir called.

"Type and location?" Cashik demanded quickly.

"They look like targeting scanners," he grimaced. "Captain, they're all around us."

"Minefield?" Trinki asked in trepidation.

"Helm, I need all you've got right now." Cashik was looking around the bridge, a score of warning lights were blinking.

"We're already red lining the engines!"

"Then burn them out!" she snapped. "We need to get out of here now!"

"Active sensors!" Franir added to the developing drama. "They're achieving lock!"

"Go to full ECM, blanket interference!" Cashik ordered. "Point defences are free to engage at will!"

"Contact! Incoming fire!"

The Dilgar defences and converged on this spot to cut off Cashik's escape plan, satellites from miles around had quietly took up position and now prepared to engage, Energy weapons and missiles activated in a massive energy signature that momentarily overpowered the jamming net before unleashing as one toward the small fleet.

A lot of the fire went wide, the Abbai ECM systems had proven to be very useful tools and even against active sensors were quite effective at confusing the Dilgar targeting computers. However with such a volume of fire some of it was going to hit, which was where point defences came in.

The Syontars shields burned with light as a pair of missiles impacted, a constant line of orange dashes sweeping back and forth from the ship in all directions as it's hefty defence grid scoured the sky for threats. The impeders were spouting clouds of particulate debris in the path of incoming weapons, but by now the ships were moving too fast to adequately take advantage of the artificial cover the clouds provided.

"Turn us away from the heaviest fire!" Cashik yelled over the rumbling deck. "Find a way through!"

She gripped the chair as the fleet make a sharp turn, a series of energy blasts plastering the shields setting off another batch of alarms. Her defences were buckling under the attack and they still were inside the defensive perimeter.

Alongside the cruiser the three escorts were not faring well, with weaker shields one vessel was already defenceless and was losing large amounts of its outer hull to weapons fire. It began to fall behind, and sensing blood the Dilgar weapons controllers doubled their efforts against the weakened ship.

"The Maryl is asking for assistance Captain."

Cashik nodded but kept a straight face, looking at the tactical display as the ship reverberated around her ears.

"Captain, the Frigate?" Trinki repeated.

"We cannot stop." She replied evenly. "And we will not stop."

"The Maryl has lost shields and engines, she'll be destroyed!"

"So will we if we stop." Cashik answered. "We're outrunning the Dilgar ships trying to catch us, if we slow down we all die, our mission fails, and Sshumssha becomes a memory."

"Our people need us!"

"Yes, yes they do!" Cashik let a hint of emotion slip through before battling it back. "All our people need us, that is why we will not turn around. Our duty goes beyond what happens today, Commander Relin knows that, she has to."

There was another bump, before suddenly the sensors began to clear up.

"Captain, we're moving out of the jamming field." Franir grinned. "Sensors back up, we're picking up Dilgar ships on intercept course!"

"Prepare to jump."

The calls from the damaged Frigate became more intense as the surviving ships drew further away and formed up for a jump.

"Commander Relin is begging Captain."

"I don't want to hear it." Cashik snapped angrily. "She knows what is at stake, she knows we can't come back."

"It's hard to hold onto convictions when you are staring death in the face." Franir said. "She's only twenty five, no age for a command officer."

"Desperate times." Cashik stated simply.

"We're ready." The helm officer said. "Clear to jump."

"As soon as we're through take us to the edge of the beacon, the Dilgar will try to find us."

"Yes Captain."

Cashik took a hard look at her bridge officers.

"You joined the navy, maybe you joined for adventure, or structure, or to pay your way through college. I don't care. You joined the navy and that means you follow my orders and complete the mission you have been given. We do not let feelings get in the way."

"Captain, it's who we are." Trinki said. "We are Abbai, we can't turn off our feelings."

"Then you had better learn now." Cashik said curtly. "This is war, accept it and do your job, worry about feelings if we live through it."

It was a hard speech, and Cashik had died inside as she said it. Like her crew she still clung to the way life had been before the war and longed for those simple peaceful times. But they wouldn't return simply through wishing, she had to claw them back and that meant detaching those parts of her soul that would hold her back. Saying it to her crew had just made it real, and in that moment she changed.

"Activate Jump engines, make for Hyach space."

The orange vortex opened in front of the ships giving them access to a different universe and a path out of the Abbai homesystem. It was with an empty feeling Cashik left, the sort of feeling one gets when entering a Cemetery. She wondered if she could complete this mission, whether her home would still be there when she returned, and whether the person who set foot in her home would be the same one who left.

Eridani System

Earth Alliance Space.

David Sheridan nodded in satisfaction as he read the report, it confirmed every suspicion he had about the two members of the Dilgar delegation.

"Do they know they were being watched?" he asked.

"Probably." Agent Francis O'Leary guessed. "They accessed a few personal items but nothing that would help the EIA learn about Dilgar military secrets."

For the last twenty four hours the Dilgar representatives, Warmasters Len'char and Sha'dur had been left to their own devices while the Earth Alliance delegation relayed the Dilgar proposal. The two Warmasters had travelled to the Alliance border with a non-aggression treaty designed to keep Earth out of their war with the League, something most people on Earth were happy to do anyway.

Naturally neither Sheridan or Ambassador Grenville, the main negotiator, had mentioned that to the Dilgar and were happy to let them draw their own conclusions about the state of Earth Alliance public opinion, but as far as Sheridan could see it would require a direct attack to force Earth into the fight, something which seemed unlikely but which the President and Senate were concerned about and arming for.

"So how did they keep busy?" Sheridan asked. "Food to their liking?"

"Yes sir." Francis half smiled. "They cleaned their plates, spoke for half an hour, then went to their quarters and stayed there."

"For all this time?"

"Yes sir, we got a partial translation from their conversation, it got pretty heated."

"Really? Now that's interesting. Division in the ranks."

"Mostly it was about Jha'dur, Len'char isn't a fan."

"Along with half the galaxy."

"He thinks she's trying to take over the Imperium, Sha'dur is adamant of her loyalty to their leader, guy called Gar'shan."

"What happened next?"

"They split up, Len'char began writing in his journal, from snap shots I'd say he was writing his memoirs."

Francis dug out a piece of paper from the file he had brought to Sheridan's quarters. "Here's a quote, 'When I arrived the humans were in awe, shrinking in my presence and bowing their heads as if in instinctive recognition of my commanding aura. They were scared, terrified, and I cannot put into words their relief when I told them I came to form a peaceful friendship, not to deliver an ultimatum. It was like a thousand breathes sighing in relief.' End quote."

Sheridan absorbed the information, then burst out in sudden laughter. "That's really what he wrote?!" he managed between breaths.

"Yes sir." Francis was grinning, trying not to follow suit. "I'd say an inaccurate record of the meeting."

That made Sheridan laugh louder. "This guy should get his own show!"

"He already has one sir." Francis was chuckling and turning red. "Best rated show on the Dilgar networks!"

Between wheezes Sheridan's voice was barely a whisper. "I gotta see it, I just gotta. Oh boy, wait 'til the guys at the poker game hear this one!"

"There is more sir."

"I better read it later." Sheridan tried to control himself. "Another quote like that and I'd have to change my pants!" He burst into laughter again, taking Francis with him before forcing himself steady and taking deep breaths.

"We were going to get a copy." Francis smiled. "But after that we decided there wouldn't be any facts for the EIA to use."

"Comedy gold though." Sheridan chuckled. "I'll be getting copy."

"Me too sir."

"What about the other guy?"

"Well that's a little more interesting." Francis brought up a new folder. "We gave them both unlimited access to the Galaxy Net, information channels, entertainment, the usual. The guy spent all his time on the Net with ISN playing in the background."

Sheridan took the report. "More like we expected."

"Yes sir, he spent a solid fourteen hours conducting searches, in fact he's still on there now."

"What did he look at?"

"Online history of Earth and humanity, net sites for Mitchell-Hyundyne, Weyland, Auricon, Vickers, Lockheed, Rocketdyne…"

"All weapons manufacturers." Sheridan noted.

"Yes sir, but there's nothing classified on those sites regarding capabilities or numbers."

"What else?"

"University lecture notes on the Crusades, War on Terror, the three World Wars, biographies for Caesar, Napoleon, Hitler, Jang Shei, and as much as he could find on our serving Joint chiefs." He handed over a sheet of paper. "And you sir, he paid especial attention to two of your ancestors."

"General Philip Sheridan and Vice Admiral Annette Sheridan." The Diplomat said without reading the paper.

"That's right sir." Francis seemed impressed. "From the American West and World War Three."

"Fits the pattern, he's looking for how Earth's military is set up, checking our past wars."

"What goes before shapes what comes after." Francis quoted.

"Well read." Sheridan complimented the young agent. "If he examines our military tradition he'll get a picture for how any war between Earth and his buddies will turn out."

"Do we want him to know that sir?"

"If it scares him, you're damn right we do."

"Well sir that's more or less everything." Francis said. "We should be due a report from our deep exploration unit soon."

"Good, take a seat."

"Sir?"

"Seat. There. Put your butt on it."

Francis sat down opposite Sheridan, slightly confused and apprehensive. "Sir, there isn't much more in the report."

"Did I tell you how I met Karl Durban?" Sheridan began. "Long time ago now, I was an Centauri Prime when I got a call to go to one of our consulates out on a colony world, Beta something I think."

Francis relaxed a little as the diplomat spoke, his voice surprisingly soft and melodic.

"Well it turned out the Centauri police had caught a human pretending to be Centauri, back then we still sent people into the field with disguises. Durban had gone in with a terrible Centauri wig to try and find out about a race on the far side of Centauri territory, an area the Centauri said was empty. So they nabbed poor Karl and I had to sort it out."

"The Centauri Police can be pretty rough."

"They can, but I was able to convince them he was a mad man, an escaped mental patient."

Francis grinned. "You told them the Director was insane?"

"Yeah, and when he heard he played along, howling like a werewolf, making weird noises, tapping his feet on the table. Hell of a show."

"Really?"

"Really, they stopped him before he dropped his pants."

Francis laughed despite himself.

"But it got him home." Sheridan countered. "He might have looked a fool but a week later he was back in business, and we learned about the Orieni, or what was left of them."

Francis inclined his head. "A good story sir."

"Point of it is, I know the Director real well, we play poker and he has the best Poker face in this galaxy, and he assigned you here personally didn't he?"

"Yes sir, my skills…"

"Apart from your skills, he told me about your time with the Dilgar."

The young man's face dropped.

"It isn't healthy to bottle this stuff up." Sheridan said quietly. "I know what I'm talking about, I've seen this kind of thing before. So why don't you tell me what happened."

"I thought the Director told you?"

"And now you can tell me." Sheridan smiled warmly. "What happened in Geneva?"

Reluctantly at first Francis told his story, about the chase, helping Heather to safety, taking on the Spectre alone and trying to raise the alarm.

"For a Spook you're a pretty poor liar." Sheridan said plainly.

"I don't see what you mean?"

"You didn't raise the alarm son, your friend Heather did."

"I went to get help."

"Yeah, but it wasn't a security team was it?"

Francis sighed. No, no I went to get my gun."

"Then what?"

"I was angry, furious, not thinking straight." He shook his head as if to force the words out. "I ran out and looked for the Spectre, and I found him, he was attacking Jenny."

"Your friend, who recruited you?"

"Yeah, he had a knife to her throat." He paused. "So I shot him."

Francis fell silent, staring at the table.

"I'd never even fired a gun before, my first shots were aimed to kill another living creature."

"One that was about to kill your friend, and who had killed other people before."

"Does that make it right?"

"Do you think it does?"

"I don't know."

Sheridan smiled. "How many guys your age would say that? Of course you don't know, hell it's a question everyone asks, even the highest Generals. You saved a life, that's the important thing."

"By taking one."

"You're the only one who can give a real answer on this." Sheridan replied. "Only you can decide if it was worth it, or how things would have been if you had done it differently. But the Director thinks you did the right thing, and I do too."

"This isn't the life I wanted."

"But it's the life you got, yours and yours only, nobody else can fill your shoes. You just gotta decide if you can."

"You've got kids haven't you, I can tell, all you Fathers sound the same."

The diplomat chuckled. "Yeah, two, John and Elizabeth. And yeah, I've been thinking up these ideas for a long time to help them, but since when does that mean I can't help you either?"

Francis looked at him. "They made me a killer."

"You had to make a choice, strike a balance, someone was going to die and you had the power to decide who that would be. No one blames you, and I can think of a lot of people who would thank you."

"I can think of one who wouldn't."

Sheridan sighed. "You need some time off, go home, see your friends, family, the real world. The Director already signed the papers, he just needed you here first."

"I don't know if I can go home."

"You can always go home, that's the point of having one. You've been outside real life, this isn't a movie, we're doing this for a reason and that's what you don't realise yet. Earth could use a guy of your talents, but you need to keep your perspective, you have to know why you're gonna be asked to do the things you do. Take a look at what you're fighting for, and what you might have to kill for, and don't you ever, ever forget it." He paused.

"Is this what it's like to be a grown up?"

"I'll tell you when I get there." Sheridan smiled widely. "All you were doing was fulfilling the first of Sheridan's rules; Never start a fight, but always finish it."

Sheridan stood, packed the files away and reached for his jacket.

"Come on," he gestured. "Get your gear, we've got places to be."

Sha'dur watched the two humans keenly as they sat down opposite them, each holding a black briefcase which they proceeded to open on the desk in front of them.

"I trust you gentlemen have been comfortable?" Ambassador Grenville asked.

"Perfectly so, thank you." Len'char replied. "Though I am a little confused at the delay, the offer was clear enough."

"These things take time." Grenville explained. "Our governemt requires any policy to be voted on by a majority of our Senate, elected representatives of our people."

"A needlessly complicated system."

"Well it works for us." Grenville smiled. "The product of a great deal of trial and error."

"I've found that strong central leadership is the ideal form of government." Len'char related. "One nation, one people, one leader."

"Ein Reich, Ein Volk, Ein Fuhrer." Sha'dur recited. "I believe our Earth historians will be familiar with that phrase."

Grenville nodded. "Glad to see you took an interest in our past, and yes, we have had experience with dictatorships. They usually don't end well."

"World Wars and nuclear stand off." Sha'dur commented.

"Dictatorships lose." Sheridan said quietly, hoping Sha'dur at least could read his meaning. "Aggression only gets you so far, sooner or later somebody takes a stand and then it all starts going bad."

"In your history." The young Warmaster corrected. "In Dilgar history the strong dominate, the weak perish."

"We come from different words, with different values." Len'char said. "What we embrace may not be suitable for you, and vice versa."

Sha'dur shook his head. "We're more alike then perhaps you'd like to admit Mr Sheridan. If one of your wars had ended differently, if this man Hitler had succeeded, maybe you would be the ones expanding your borders."

"Though I stress we are reacting to League aggression." Len'char hastily added.

"Your history tells you what is happening doesn't it Mr Sheridan?" Sha'dur spoke quietly, as if just he and Sheridan were in the room. "You understand the Dilgar more than you want us to believe, well I also understand your people. "we do not want a war with Earth, believe it or not I have actually developed a healthy respect for your people and I am not alone. Take this treaty as an equal, as a race that understands us because not long ago, you were us."

Sheridan leaned forward. "You're right, we have had people in our past who remind me of the current Dilgar culture. We do hae the potential to be what you are, hell we were doing all the things you've done recently to our own people centuries ago, millennia ago. It is part of humanity and I don't deny it. What I do deny is the idea that is all humanity is. We're more than that Warmaster, we evolved, we learned, and that's where we are now."

"Yet if you are pushed, that savagery will return to the surface."

"Then I wouldn't want to be the one who was doing the pushing." Sheridan smiled dangerously. "You might not like what you see."

Sha'dur smiled widely. "She was right about you, she always is."

Len'char coughed pointedly. "if we can get back on topic, when will we know if your government has accepted the terms?"

"Somewhere you need to be?" Grenville asked politely.

"Matter of fact yes." Sha'dur said. "I am a Warmaster, it brings certain tasks."

"Who's the lucky target this time?" Sheridan wondered.

"Enemies of the Dilgar, that's all."

There was a tap on the door interrupting the conversation. Sheridan stood and opened it, receiving a data crystal from a young man who glanced furtively at the two aliens in the room, catching Sha'dur's eye for a moment. Then he headed back out of the doorway and Sheridan closed the portal behind him.

"Last piece of the puzzle." The diplomat put the clear pyramid in a reader.

Grenville nodded and sat up straight. "Well gentlemen, there is one more question, that of honesty. When Earth signs a treaty it becomes a debt of honour, a pact upon which we place all of our credibility. Our treaty with the Markab for example, one of friendship and mutual respect, is one of our most prized agreements. Our border treaties with the Narn signed after our brief war with the Regime was based on a promise to avoid bloodshed." He pushed forward the Dilgar treaty. "And now we have this."

"The Imperium will honour this treaty." Len'char stated.

"I am sure you believe that." Grenville had no such illusions. "But how do we know you are telling the truth?"

"You have my word."

Grenville nodded silently, then leaned back and allowed Sheridan to take over.

"Did your people commit atrocities?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Not under official orders, though our people do succumb to the heat of…"

"So you did not order mass orbital strikes on civilian targets?"

"Only military ones." Len'char said, beside him Sha'dur could see the trap about to take off his associates head.

"And you did not order the killing of unarmed refugees."

"No. Never. You have my word."

Without further comment Sheridan activated the crystal and played a recording, raw data and images from the Krish star system recently taken by the Dilgar.

"I believe you recognize this planet Warmaster Sha'dur?" Grenville prompted.

"I do."

"We'd never been there before, but this data tells us everything we need to know about this race, including how much of a threat they were."

Len'char was starting to fume. "When you go to war for…"

"We've seen war Mr Representative." Sheridan cut off. "We've caused plenty and we know the story. This, what you see here, is not war, it is genocide!"

"You have no right to judge us!" Len'char snapped. "Where is your authority?"

"We have no authority." Grenville admitted. "Which is why you can leave this place. I can't arrest you, much as you deserve it."

He scoffed in answer. "You wouldn't risk bringing down the fury of the Dilgar on your world!"

"Careful Warmaster, Earth isn't some pacifist unarmed world like this one." Sheridan said evenly. "I advise you not to test us."

Sha'dur stood. "If there is no further business, we'll be leaving."

"How dare you!" Len'char spat. "We came to offer you peace and you throw it back at us!"

"You came, Warmaster," Grenville stood. "To cover your flanks and keep us out of your war. You want a treaty so you don't have to worry about Alliance ships striking your people."

"Our shuttle is waiting." Sha'dur pressured gently, but Len'char seemed oblivious.

"We don't care about whether you attack or not! We handled the League, we can handle you humans!"

"This discussion is over." Grenville took the data crystal, cutting of the images of ruined cities and wrecked refugee ships. "We tested your word and it was false, we cannot enter into a treaty with such a deceitful race."

"Deceitful!"

"But I ask you to take this message back to your leader." Grenville kept his voice low, forcing Len'char to quiet down in order to hear him. "Earth has no formal treaty with the League, if we did you and I wouldn't be having this pleasant conversation. But we do have trade agreements and non aggression pacts with the Markab. Tell your leaders to stay clear of the Earth Alliances borders, and to leave the Markab alone. You wanted terms, there they are. Stay clear of our borders, stay clear of the Markab, stay clear of the Mentab as well."

"A threat?" Len'char growled.

"A warning, take it for what it is." Grenville packed his briefcase. "You will be escorted to your quarters, then shown off this station. Earth has nothing more to say to the Dilgar, don't bother us, and we won't bother you."

"Thank you Mr Grenville." Sha'dur cut off any retort Len'char was planning. "We go in peace, wish you well."

"And we hope the Dilgar find peace, very soon." Sheridan added. "For every ones sake."

Abbai cruiser Syontar

The ride had been rough, an understatement in fact, it had been a total nightmare. Neither Ambassador Itala or her aide Kalika had any idea what had happened, or whether they were safe or simply prolonging the moment before disaster struck. They had strapped themselves into the diplomatic quarters and watched as the room tore itself apart around them. Even though everything was firmly fixed down the battering they had endured and thrown shelves from the wall and broken chairs from their deck fittings.

For what seemed like forever neither of them could hear anything except the thunder of the ships straining engines and the sharp impacts of Dilgar weapons, until suddenly it had stopped. Silence followed as if nothing at all had happened and everything had been eternally peaceful. A voice on the intercom asked if they were in need of medical attention, which Itala refused, and then the two Abbai had stood up and examined the damage.

"I think we're in hyperspace." Kalika said quietly, this was precisely the first time she'd left her world, and it was turning into quite an eye opening experience.

"We must have broken through the Dilgar perimeter." Itala nodded with a smile. "We made it."

"Do you think they will chase us?"

"I'm sure of it, but we should outrun them in this ship." Itala reassured. "Or at least our Captain Cashik can outgun whatever she cannot outrun."

Itala was a rather elderly member of her race and a career diplomat, one of the very best in the Matriarchy and the galaxy at large. She was unusual among Abbai in having a rather portly figure, a sign she had spent a lot of time on alien worlds instead of swimming on Sshumssha which helped keep members of her race trim and fit.

As a diplomat she had accepted a form of semi retirement some years ago, giving up her duties in galactic politics to take a more forgiving role as an adviser to the Natar and her court while allowing her student Alikie to assume the post of primary League Ambassador. Unfortunately after the attack on the homeworld Alikie had suffered something of a nervous breakdown necessitating the recall of Itala and the assigning of a fresh aide, Kalika was the only one available and was plucked out of Naval college and giving a crash course in diplomacy.

There was a bang on the door.

"Come in." Itala allowed.

The door grinded about halfway open before jamming solid. On the otherside Captain Cashik had to squeeze through the decidedly narrow gap, snagging her lilac and dark blue uniform in the process.

"Madame Ambassador, I wanted to come and see you myself."

"I appreciate your concern Captain, what is our situation?"

"We've bypassed the main Abba sector beacon and are moving into neutral space." Cashik said. "Some Dilgar units were following us but we appear to have evaded them."

"Our other ships?" Kalika jumped in anxiously.

"I'm afraid we lost a Frigate." Cashik's eyes grew distant. "The remaining two have elected to follow us on our mission. We were planning on going alone, but neither commander on the Frigates wanted to risk running the Dilgar blockade again to make it all the way back home."

"Our damage?" Itala continued to question.

"Moderate but repairable."

"Then we may begin our mission?"

"That is why I am here." Cashik took a step back towards the door. "I'm heading to the central communication room, I believe it would be appropriate if you both joined me."

Cashik gave the half opened door a push, but it seemed wedged tight and refused to budge. "My apologies Ambassador, I realise this is inconvenient…"

"Compared to the mission we have such things are trivial." Itala stated. "I'll just have to breath in."

Cashik and Kalika made it out without trouble, but Itala's larger frame took some extra effort to force through the gap. She eventually made it through, not once cursing or losing her temper. The corridor beyond was blackened by fire and was missing a number of panels from the roof and wall. Bundles of cables lay coiled like red and yellow snakes bright against the charred wall and dim hanging work torches replaced the broken overhead lighting. It had the look of a derelict, not a front line Abbai naval vessel.

"It looks worse than it is." Cashik noted their concerned expressions. "We had a power overload, the system is designed to discharge through unoccupied corridors rather than into a command deck or other vital area."

"I wouldn't want to be in the corridor while it happened." Kalika winced, imagining the inferno that would engulf any such unfortunates.

"At battlestations these corridors are unoccupied, we just use the main ones in the central hull or the transport tubes." Cashik explained. "The ship can take it, after all your quarters were close by and you were not injured, it just jammed your door."

They moved into a central corridor which was in far better condition, spotless and gleaming, before Cashik led them to a set of large doors.

"This is the communication room." She activated a control and the doors slid open. "Most of this equipment was added specifically for this mission, it is just about the most comprehensive suite we could come up with. From here you should be able to reach any world in the League."

While Cashiks speech was impressive the room was not, it was like a corridor, long and rather thin with stacks of electronics on both sides crammed in and taking up most of the space. Two naval personnel were hunched over a desk illuminated by a dim green glow from a display screen they were intently staring at. It had the feel of an elaborate library, a repository of stored knowledge and understanding that would help the Abbai overcome their invading enemy.

"Officer Shusa, did you manage to send our message?" Cashik dispensed with formality and cut straight to the point.

"Yes Captain," an extremely young male Abbai replied from the desk. "But, well we haven't received a reply."

"What message?" Kalika nosed in.

"Just a brief explanation of our escape and a request to meet with League officials." Cashik was looking at the display as she answered the aide. "We sent it to the Drazi, Brakiri, Hyach and others."

"And they have not responded?" Itala frowned. "Odd."

"We know the Drazi were under attack at the same time we were." Cashik considered. "But I'm concerned the rest of the League is silent."

Even someone as unworldly as Kalika could see this was not good, she knew the League had their differences and squabbles, and she knew it would be a hard task to convince them to send a fleet to fight for her homeworld, but she couldn't believe her peoples erstwhile allies would just outright ignore them.

"Captain, can you look for general comms traffic?" She suggested, rather surprised at herself for being assertive enough to offer the idea to these rather grim looking officers.

"Yes, but why?"

"She's right." Itala understood. "Maybe they haven't replied because they can't. Normally every frequency should be busy with chatter, stock reports, personal messages, all the distractions of civilization. A quick sweep should give us the picture we need."

Cashik approved and had the two communication technicians use the ships arrays to search all traffic, it took only seconds to see something was very wrong.

"No entertainment channels." Cashik grimaced. "Or News programmes."

"And no personal communication." Kalika sensed a growing coldness opening up inside her chest. "There's nothing, the whole sector's utterly silent!"

"Not quite." Itala sighed. "Signals from Brakir, Shri Shaba and Mitoc. A lot of them."

Kalika brightened. "Well that's good news! There must be a comms black out or…"

"Dilgar signals." Cashik's voice was deadening. "They beat us to it."

Kalika had known that this had to be a possibility, that the reason no help had come was simply because no one was left to send that aid. The League had no need to go and fight the Dilgar, their enemies had come to them.

"The Hyach and Brakiri were our best hopes." Itala's voice remained unreadable, decades of negotiations giving her impeccable control of her tone and the emotions within. "If they have fallen to the Dilgar advance then we are isolated deep behind the enemy lines."

"Did they…" Kalika felt a lump in her throat, a mix of sadness and pure terror. "Did they wipe out the planets?"

"I don't know." Cashik said. "I don't think so, they wouldn't keep a fleet and a jamming field active around those worlds if they were empty." She called up a chart of local stars. "But these colony worlds are utterly silent. I'd say they had been totally destroyed."

"So the Brakiri and Hyach are in the same position we are, under siege." Itala concluded, thinking aloud. "What about the Drazi?"

"There is a lot of encoded traffic." Shuma reported. "Military signals I'd guess. They are focused a few light years from the border."

"Probably marking the limit of the Dilgar advance." Cashik stated. "They are still fighting, but it looks like they've lost ground and not been able to reclaim it."

"The Leagues greatest warriors are barely holding on." Itala rubbed her arms together as if she were suddenly cold. "And the three other largest powers are broken and under siege."

"What about everyone else?" Kalika asked. "The Cascor or Vree?"

"I'm picking up jammers in the Cascan home system." Shuma said. "But beyond that it seems clear."

"So they haven't conquered everyone." Kalika felt a surge of hope. "We can still form a coalition against them!"

"We can try." Itala said. "But we are going to need many ships and many warriors. I do not know if the remaining League forces have the numbers or dedication to face the Dilgar in open war and win."

"The Vree have a powerful fleet." Cashik pointed out. "And the Markab are fierce warriors when their blood is up."

"But is that enough to drive back the Dilgar?" Itala asked rhetorically. "I don't think so, we need more."

"What more is there?"

"Captain, I want you to set course for Narn space."

The order made everyone in the small room stare at the ambassador in abject shock.

"The Narn?" Kalika asked to make sure her ears weren't lying to her.

"We fought wars against the Narn." Cashik said with a hint of anger. "They attempted numerous invasions of the League."

"Which is why I know they can fight." Itala said. "I negotiated every one of our treaties with the Narn, I know them, if anyone has the vigour and power to fight the Dilgar it is them."

"What makes you think they won't just laugh at us?"

"Because the Narn are always wanting something, and the League has much to give." Itala said. "This deal will cost us dearly, but it is preferable to death or slavery under the Dilgar."

Cashik huffed. "I don't trust them."

"Neither do I." Itala said. "But they are our best hope of driving back the invader, and for that I would give them anything."

Cashik was clearly not happy, but it turned out they were completely out of options.

"Very well, Narn space it is."

"I suggest we keep trying to contact our allies here, to see if they are alive."

"I'm sorry, but I cannot allow that." Cashik said.

"We will pass close to brakir, we should…" Itala was cut off.

"Madam Ambassador, I understand your point, but we are three ships deep behind enemy lines. The Dilgar can trace our signal and they will be looking for us. We must maintain communication silence."

"But the Brakiri…"

"Are now in the hands of the Great Maker." Cashik stated. "I have two Brakiri officers on board, I want to be able to tell them their world is safe but I cannot take that risk. The mission has priority."

"Of course." Itala bowed her head. "the mission."

"It is one more sacrifice we have to make." Cashik said in reply. "I hope it is the last, but I doubt it."

Kalika raised a point. "We can still listen though, just not transmit?"

"Yes." The Captain nodded. "we can still receive broadcasts and monitor any news or information that slips through the Dilgar nets."

"So this is now our road." Itala observed sombrely. "No deviation from the path, no turning back, no choice."

"At least we are doing something." Cashik said. "Better than sitting still and waiting for the Dilgar to decide our fate for us. Now we can at least try and decide it ourselves."

That sounded good to Kalika, it was no guarantee of success, and the odds were still stacked ridiculously against them, but at least now they could exercise some control of their destiny, even if it was simply to pick a new time or place for their deaths. If Sshumssha fell while they were on this mission she honestly did not know what she would do. Maybe she would live on as an exile, maybe she would commit suicide. It was her choice now, not one belonging to a Dilgar Warmaster.

It seemed clear to her that the Abbai needed to look for outside help, and despite her opinion of the Narn they might just be the saviors her world, and the League as a whole, needed to save them from their own short sightedness. She just prayed they would help the league, rather than see their disunity as an excuse for an invasion of their own.

Ridani System

Earth Alliance Space.

"Damn, did you lose more hair since we last met?"

For a long second Alfredo Garibaldi gave the slender woman a hard and cold glare, before bursting out in laughter and reaching out to embrace her.

"Jenny!" he enthused. "How you been?"

"I need to breath in." she smiled, prompting the well built Sergeant to release her.

"Sorry."

"Good to see you too Freddy." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Hey, I'm a married man, you know how rumours spread in the army." He chuckled. "Good to see you in one piece."

"You too." Jenny was still holding a genuine smile. "How's everyone else?"

"Just fine, the Government kept a lid on our little adventure on Tirrith."

Jenny could understand that, after the Persephone was lost she and the crew of the Space Race had helped the stranded platoon of soldiers escape back to Earth space, bringing along a few vital pieces of Dilgar technology in the process.

"I saw your ship come through the gate." Garibaldi continued. "Everyone else with you?"

"Toby and Jors are already at the bar." Jenny laughed. "Paul is just checking the bulletins, then he'll join us."

"Well we're off duty as soon as the Dilgar leave, call it a date?" he smirked.

"Call it whatever your wife lets you!" Jenny retorted. "We'll be waiting for you, first round is on you."

"Yes Ma'am." He offered a cheerful salute. "I better get moving, we're doing the guard of honour in ten minutes and the Captain likes us to get it perfect."

"I won't keep you." Jenny stepped back. "Soon as you're off duty you know where to find us."

"Just follow the singing:" Garibaldi started walking, before adding over his shoulder, "and the army can drink you spooks under the table."

"Fifty credits says you're down first!"

"Easy money!" Garibaldi laughed, then vanished through a doorway.

Jenny took the opportunity to stroll around the station, it had very few facilities but she did find some shops and stalls selling trinkets. She was in no great rush to head for the bar, plenty of time for that later, she just wanted to unwind and have a few moments of normal life away from her duties and associations. She had been so busy lately she found she had little time to just stop and take a look at the universe around her. She had a dozen messages to reply to from her Sister back on Earth and her Father on Mars and needed to buy a gift for her niece's birthday. One of the first lessons she'd learned after joining the EIA was that sometimes you just had to stop, and finally she had that chance.

"Hello there, hope I'm not disturbing you?"

It was a disturbance and Jenny felt a flicker of annoyance that her time had been broken in to, but she greeted the comment with typical charm.

"Of course not, what can I do for you?" She didn't recognize the unassuming man who stood beside her in the rather scant market place on the Stations central corridor.

"David Sheridan." He introduced.

The name immediately clicked with Jenny. "Our negotiator."

"That's right, I wanted to thank you for smuggling out that information."

"It was a team effort." She replied.

"It looked like it got a little hairy out there." Sheridan noted a hint of concern. "It was an extremely dangerous mission, I'm surprised the EIA allowed you to use civilians."

She suspected there might have been a veiled criticism there, which she supposed was justifiable. "The Space Race crew are survivors, they've come through tougher scrapes than most of the field agents I know."

"Are they part of the EIA?"

"Private contractors."

"So if they are captured Earth can deny they know anything about them, just civilians."

She took exception to that. "We provide plenty of back up, if that ship ran into trouble they would have a naval cruiser come in guns blazing."

"The Delphi right?"

He was very well informed. "I don't think we should be discussing this matter."

"Well it isn't secret, and there's nobody here to tell." Sheridan shrugged. "I don't always agree with how the EIA does things, but you guys helped us out today, and when I said 'Thank you' I meant it."

Jenny had been briefed on the situation with the Dilgar and knew who had been sent. She was going out of her way to avoid accidently bumping into the two Warmasters in case she did something they'd all regret. Like snapping necks or cutting throats. Might create something of a diplomatic incident.

"They denied it all didn't they?"

"Every word." Sheridan confirmed. "You should have seen their faces when we showed your data."

"I'd rather have not." Jenny stated flatly. "Gives me no pleasure to show what kind of people they are."

"If you say so, but it put us all on the same page. We know what they are like now. They can't fool us."

"Will you go public?" Jenny fixed him with a strong stare. "Give the data to ISN?"

Sheridan reluctantly shook his head. "The President doesn't think so."

"Why not, people have a right to know."

"It would be damaging to the public, it would upset them."

"Upset them?" Jenny was actually surprised. "I should damn well hope it does! Billions of people are being murdered! We should do something!"

"We are doing something, we've told the Dilgar to stay clear of Earth space and to leave our allies alone."

"That's it? That's the master plan of the Earth Alliance? Tell them to keep off our damn grass?"

"It's all we can do." Sheridan did an excellent job of keeping an even temper as Jenny fumed. "We can't go to war."

"I've seen what happens when our ships fight theirs, we have the advantage!"

"But we can't sustain it." Sheridan answered. "We don't have the supplies. Our ships don't have the range or endurance, our crews can't live in zero gravity for more than a month without physical problems to their muscles and bone structure. The war is on the wrong side of League space and we just can't get there. Plus they outnumber us."

"So that's it, evil triumphs because good people do nothing." Jenny sighed.

"You know how it works, this isn't our war." Sheridan glanced at the floor. "We can't send in the fleet to sort out other peoples problems, and no one in the League has asked for help."

"Because by the time they realise they need our help they're already beaten."

"Our mandate is specific, we're not expansionist and we can't sustain a war with the Dilgar. Our authority ends at our borders, as does our involvement in the galaxy."

"That's the same attitude that killed the League."

"Well unlike the League we can see the threat." Sheridan stated. "We can't take the war to them right now, but we are planning."

"Too late for the League though, and by giving up on those worlds we're giving the Dilgar the resources they need to become a super power."

"They already are." Sheridan shrugged. "They're more of a threat than the Narn, they might even reach a point where they can rival the Centauri. Earth has been worried about an Alien power on its doorstep with the ability and the will to attack and destroy us. For a lot of people back home this is a nightmare coming real."

"So we sit and wait?"

"We sit and build up enough warships to defend ourselves against any threat." Sheridan said. "That's the Presidents official policy."

She sighed again. "I don't think it'll discourage them from doing whatever they want."

"Maybe not, but if they breach our sovereignty we will be in a position to confront them. Just pray it doesn't happen for about nine months, that's how long it's going to take to mass produce enough ships."

"Think there'll still be a League in nine months?" she asked honestly.

"I don't know. I hope so." Sheridan replied quietly. "If they get their act together they can still win this, they just have to learn to work as a team."

"Then they're all going to die."

"Maybe, but its up to them, not us. The President and the Senate has decided, Earth will not get involved."

Jenny joined her friends at the bar but didn't enjoy herself as much as she expected. Toby and Jors were understandably happy at the payment they had received and the fact they had succeeded in an excessively difficult mission. She had delivered the evidence that had proven the Dilgar were lying mass murderers and while it had kept the Earth Alliance Government wise to the Dilgar ways it wasn't going to help the League. She had fulfilled the mission, but didn't feel fulfilled inside by the accomplishment. Just bitter.

"Paul!" Toby called. "We saved you a seat!"

The Captain made his way across the rather empty room, dodging haphazardly placed tables and chairs until he reached his comrades.

"Sergeant Garibaldi is due here soon." Jors informed. "good to see them all again."

"Yeah, really will." Paul agreed then turned to Jenny. "They aren't going public are they?"

"No." she replied flatly. "Executive decision."

"I knew they wouldn't." He took a drink from the glass Jenny had saved for him. "You just can't trust the government."

"They won't sign a treaty." She continued. "And they won't open diplomatic relations with such a blatantly aggressive race."

"That's something at least." Jors remarked.

"Isn't going to stop the Dilgar killing everything they want." Paul shook his head and downed the shot of Jack Daniels in one go. "Can we go public ourselves?"

"The data is EIA property, classified." Jenny answered. "If you give it to ISN you'll go to jail forever."

"Might be worth it." Jors considered.

"No, we can do more good out here." Paul spoke decisively. "I found us a new job, a guy on Bestine needs some supplies."

"What kind of supplies?" Jenny asked.

"The 'No questions' kind, weapons and starship parts." Paul smiled. "For the Free Balosian Navy."

"I've heard of them, you met them once right?"

"At Brakir." Paul confirmed. "They lost their world but are still fighting the Dilgar, but they need spare parts to keep fighting. I'm going to deliver them."

"Risky." Toby frowned. "The Dilgar have a squadron hunting them down."

"It'll be worth it." Jors said with finality. "I'm in."

"Yeah, me too." Toby shrugged.

"The Money isn't great." Paul cautioned. "But that isn't the point. This is a way to do something to actively oppose the Dilgar. Our government may not help, but we alone can do something." He looked at Jenny. "You're welcome to come along."

"You know I can't." She sighed. "Earth needs me here, especially with the Dilgar threat growing."

"We need you, you're the best gunner there is."

"I can't quit my job. I have a duty to the people I serve before anything else." She said plainly. "But I'll see what I can do to help from the inside, I think it will do Earth good to support the Balosians, at least covertly." She ran a few thoughts through her head. "Maybe the next supply mission we can arrange to give the Balosians some real toys to play with."

"It's a start." Paul nodded. "Come on, I owe you drink."

Docking bay.

Sha'dur checked his fabric bag one more time to make sure he had everything he needed before leaving the station. The negotiations had failed, which he had predicted from the moment Len'char opened his mouth, and no doubt the other Warmaster would try and place the blame anywhere but where it really belonged. Jha'dur would not have made the mistake of lying so transparently to these people, she knew them to be cunning and would treat them at least as equals. Len'char had failed, but Sha'dur had not.

He had learned a lot about humans, which ultimately was his purpose on this little escapade. He had copied as much as he could on human history and culture and was going to make it available to the Dilgar hierarchy, though only his sister and the Supreme Warmaster would likely take the time to fully appreciate the data. In addition he had his report on the people he had met, from military personnel to the diplomatic team and the ships guarding the station. He would also of course provide full details on Len'chars handling of the situation and the surprising effectiveness of Earth Alliance Intelligence.

His colleague had not deigned to wait for him and was already onboard the shuttle preparing for take off. Sha'dur walked alone past the honour guard of human soldiers, again resplendent in grey and black dress uniforms but with the weapons and poise of highly trained and disciplined fighters. He returned a salute from the leader of the guard detail and entered the transport tube that would take him to the docking bay.

Inside he found David Sheridan waiting for him.

"Docking bay?" he asked, pressing the appropriate button.

Sha'dur nodded and the door slid shut behind him.

"I know you speak English." Sheridan announced. "Not an easy language to learn so fast."

"I've had a few months." The Warmaster said, his speech was heavily accented but understandable. Naturally his sister could already speak fluent English with a perfect cut glass accent.

"What did you think to our entertainment?"

Sha'dur glanced at the bag.

"Don't worry." Sheridan assured. "The items in your bag are public domain, you're welcome to take them with you. It'll help you understand us better."

He nodded. "I found your people interesting. A world of opposites, contrasts."

"Differences aren't always a bad thing." Sheridan said. "Sometimes it helps to talk to someone with a different perspective."

"Conflict comes from differences, something the Dilgar long ago eliminated." Sha'dur said haltingly as he processed the language. "We are one race now, and stronger for it."

"Maybe it would have helped you to get a second perspective before invading everyone."

He laughed. "The war is not so simple."

"When are they ever?"

The gravity in the car grew lighter as they moved closer to the docking bay and the stations centre of rotation.

"I noticed you looked into my family history." Sheridan stated.

"Yes, you had military predecessors."

"And it looks like my boy will join the Navy too one day, he's in the cadets now."

"We have cadets." Sha'dur remarked. "It is compulsory."

"Voluntary for us, all our military is volunteer only, which you probably already know. They chose to be there, they weren't forced. That's what makes them different to any other armed force you can think of."

"We have beaten volunteers before."

"You haven't fought humans." Sheridan said. "Well actually you did, and I remember that didn't go too well."

"We both know you were never going to sign that treaty." Sha'dur stated suddenly. "So why are we here?"

"Because I wanted to meet a Dilgar." Sheridan said honestly. "And see what kind of people you are. Exactly the same reason you are here."

Sha'dur smiled, this guy was good. "And what do you think."

"I think if your people are like your friend Len'char then one day soon you're going to do something really stupid."

"And if not?"

"If they are like you then you'll stop this war soon." Sheridan replied. "You'll do the smart thing and not over extend yourselves. You'll end this war in the next month or two and turn yourselves into a major power"

"That would be the smart thing." Sha'dur confirmed.

"Well the smartest thing you can do is listen to our warning." Sheridan said. "Because Earth is serious, stay clear of our border and leave the Markab alone."

The car stopped, by now the simulated gravity was particularly weak, like walking on the Moon. The doors opened onto the wide open docking bay, the Dilgar shuttle bright green against the dull grey of human vessels parked around it.

"It was informative." Sha'dur said.

"Enjoy the books and movies you downloaded." Sheridan smiled. "I can recommend anything by Tolkien."

"I will read that first."

"You seem a smart guy." Sheridan said quietly. "Smarter than your friend in the shuttle. If I were you I'd use what influence I had to keep this war on track and wind it up soon."

"We will see." Sha'dur nodded. "Whatever you think of us, this war is necessary, and it does have a reason."

"That's between you and your conscience." Sheridan kept an even face. "But whatever you tell your superiors make sure they understand our warning. Stay away from Earth and our allies."

He stepped back into the car and pressed the return button.

"If you call our bluff, it'll be the last thing you ever do."


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 41

46

Geneva

Earth

EIA Headquarters

When he had first started the conference room had been rather overpowering to Agent O'Leary, it had made him feel rather small and insignificant, and incredibly young and naïve as he made his first briefing to Director Karl Durban. But since that first presentation Francis had grown, if not physically then certainly mentally. Now he felt no apprehension or doubt in this room, it was his habitat, the place where he could be the person he knew inside he really was. He was an agent of the Earth Intelligence Agency and he would act like one.

At least that's what he told himself, but truthfully he still felt doubt about whether this was really the place for him. It wasn't like he had actually chosen to come here, blackmail might be a better term, and while his colleagues were certainly dedicated at least one of them had turned out to be a traitor responsible for a dozen deaths at least. Agent Harry Leung had been bought by the Narn and later the Dilgar, and even worse had been a senior Agent in charge of the Code breaking section Francis worked in. They still needed a new leader and morale on the section was at an all time low.

"Thank you Mr Sheridan." Durban stated sincerely. "It would appear we achieved what we set out to achieve."

Francis turned his attention back to the matter at hand. The room was warmly lit and filled with various officials including the Director and David Sheridan. Francis also recognized Jenny Sakai and Victor Chapel who had been on assignment during the recent Dilgar meeting along with perhaps most notably Vice President Elizabeth Levy. It was the first time Francis had met her and she had a no nonsense personality and clear understanding of what was going on. Levy was ambitious but had the skill and determination to actually justify her reach for power and her loyalty to the needs of Earth was unquestioned. Unlike certain other members of the cabinet.

"Agent O'Leary." Durban called to him. "What did we learn from Dilgar communications?"

Francis stood and neatly gathered his notes before lifting his head and addressing the room clearly, noting a quick nod of pride from Jenny, his friend and mentor in the art of counter espionage.

"During the course of the meeting we managed to intercept and decode every signal to and from the fleet."

"That's impressive work." Levy stated. "How long does it take?"

"About thirty minutes." Francis replied. "Based on the protocols the two Warmasters used I'd say we're reading those signals before the intended recipient is."

Levy glanced at Durban. "I can see why the President likes you."

"Thank you Ma'am." Durban smiled. "But the credit belongs with the codes section."

He nodded to Francis to continue.

"Most of it was general chatter, request for spares, some personal messages that have gone to the psychological warfare teams at Sandhurst to play with, but a few messages represent possible insights into Dilgar strategic policy."

Francis activated the main screen display on the wall in front of the desk and brought up a galactic map.

"We discovered that the Cascan Commonwealth has fallen to the Dilgar advance."

There were a few mutters of concern but they quickly hushed and continued listening.

"Warmaster Sha'dur received orders to resume command of his fleet and conduct a spoiling attack against the Ipsha. The aim is to keep them disorganised and out of the war rather than outright conquer or destroy them."

"I would suggest sending a warning." Jenny spoke up.

"I agree." Durban nodded. "But by the time we got a message through it would already be over, the nature of Ipsha space makes long range communication all but impossible."

"Due to high instances of electro magnetic interference." Francis offered helpfully.

"Which also makes an excellent defensive battlefield." Durban pointed out. "The Ipsha can probably hold their own defensively, and if the Dilgar don't press the attack they should be fine for a while."

"The Dilgar will also likely take some punitive action against the Llort." Francis highlighted the Llort planet which was next in line from Cascan space. "They intend to isolate the homeworld of Vargas but again do not seem eager to conquer and invade it. The planet is has a hot and dry overall climate, extremely uncomfortable to most species."

He zoomed the map in closer to Earth territory.

"The next major Dilgar operation is focused on the Descari race."

"The Descari are virtually on our border." Levy recognised.

"Yes Madam Vice President, there is a jump route between Descari space and our trading post at Eridani."

"technically Eridani isn't an Earth colony." Durban said. "But we do have two outposts there and a cruiser patrol goes through there regularly. Its as good as Earth space."

"Which we told the Dilgar to avoid." Jenny added.

Levy grimaced. "They're cutting it mighty close, it could be seen as provocation."

"Perhaps, we'll have to see if they go ahead and deploy a force near Eridani before acting." Durban replied. "But they are still two jumps from any populated human worlds."

"And the good news is we've uncovered no plans for Markab space in any projected Dilgar plans, at least any we've seen." Francis added. "And nothing involving Earth either."

"That we know of." Levy qualified.

"Yes Madam Vice President."

Levy leaned back in her chair. "So we have evidence the Dilgar will attack the Descari. Opinions?"

"Tell them." Jenny said swiftly.

"I'd agree." Durban backed her up. "We can arrange to have it done quietly through Mr Sheridans associates in the diplomatic corps."

"Ultimately though it probably won't help them much." Chapel announced. "Even if they had years to prepare they still would be no match for the Dilgar fleet."

"Might help them evacuate some people though." Jenny said. "We should do it."

"I'll take your suggestions to the President." Levy confirmed. "David, what's the refugee status?"

"We've had about two hundred thousand come in from various League worlds." Sheridan reported. "We've got food and shelter for them and our medical teams have it under control. We're keeping them on Altair pending a change of circumstance."

"Meaning whether they stay or go depends on the Dilgar." Durban said.

"Exactly." Agreed Sheridan. "We can't send them home if they'll only be killed."

"understood." Levy nodded. "Anything else Mr O'Leary?"

Francis shook his head. "No further news from the League, the Dilgar blanket jamming is proving highly effective. We have nothing from worlds they've taken."

"Thank you." Levy confirmed and Francis took his seat. "Final point, the Balosian Navy, Agent Sakai?"

Jenny didn't need to stand up to be heard.

"Agent Chapel and myself have devised away to provide active support for the Free Balosian Navy as it engages the Dilgar."

"What type of support?"

"Spare parts, high energy conductors, replacement ion drives." Jenny listed. "Common items that are generic to all races but expensive to purchase or replace."

"And if possible weapons." Chapel added. "Plasma cannons to be exact and perhaps some spare fighters."

"Are they traceable?" Levy wondered.

"The components, no, they're common enough." Jenny answered. "Plasma cannons again are a common technology and we can alter the power signatures to disguise their origin. Fighters are a little tougher, but there are plenty of Delta-V Zephyr fighters on the galactic markets. We can provide these directly but they are common enough that the Balosians could claim to have bought them through a neutral arms trader."

"It would be nice to give them Starfuries." Chapel said regretfully. "But those fighters are strictly controlled, even the older marks. It would be too obvious."

"Plus Balosian ships don't have hangars big enough to take a Fury." Jenny mentioned.

"Assuming the President buys this, how do we deliver the goods without drawing attention?" The Vice President enquired.

"We have a civilian contact." Jenny said. "A freighter that has done a few contracts with us and is highly discrete."

"same people who ran the recon mission to Krish." Durban added. "I can vouch for them personally."

"That's recommendation enough for me." Levy agreed. "They on board with this?"

"I'll have to ask them." Jenny stated. "But they are eager to help the League against the Dilgar and their Captain has met the Balosians before. They'll be good contacts."

"Alright, make some plans and I'll get the President to decide by the end of the week." Levy began packing up her papers, the rest of the room following suit.

"Just a reminder," Durban spoke up. "We'll be appointing a new head of Codes next week, we have the Deputy Director of Psi Corps visiting tomorrow to talk about greater agency cooperation. Mr Chapel. You're our contact."

"Oh, great." He didn't sound enthusiastic.

"You rescued her from that Dilgar Agent in New York, she owes you her life along with Agent Sakai. She'll probably be more open minded then most Corps officials and it doesn't hurt to have someone friendly to us near the top."

"Fair enough." Chapel accepted.

"And finally, Mr Sheridan, Fourteen hundred hours tomorrow, General Denisov and Ambassador Grenville will be available for our little game of poker. And this time I plan to win."

Sheridan laughed. "For a spy master you're terrible at spotting when I bluff!"

"For a diplomat you're way to canny at cards." Durban grinned back. "Bring a padded wallet."

"I will, and a bag to take my winnings home in."

The group packed up and began to leave.

"Francis, a moment." Durban waved him over.

"Yes sir?"

"How you doing?" the Australian director asked plainly.

"Pretty good sir, after you know…"

"Yeah, it's been a tough time for all of us. But you realise there is no blame here, sometimes people are tempted and this sort of thing happens. We had our suspicions but we needed proof before acting."

"I understand sir."

"Not part of the job I will ever like, but the needs of Earth come first." Durban said. "And you acted with a lot of bravery facing down that Dilgar agent, Spectres aren't they called?"

"Yes sir."

"And his camouflage is giving the boys and girls at R&D many happy hours trying to duplicate it. And it gave us the leverage to get a favour from Earth Force, namely our little cruiser we've been using frequently."

"Of course sir."

"Point is Francis, good came of it. A lot of good. And more importantly a lot of evil was prevented from happening by catching them then and there. None of us realised how deep Harry Leungs treachery ran, if we did we'd have been more careful. But in the end we won."

Francis could only nod.

"Take a couple of weeks off, Sheridan already told you I'd approved it?"

"Yes sir, but my place is here."

"Not completely, you work here but you need to remember the bigger picture. Go home, relax for a couple of weeks then come back fresh and clear headed."

"I don't know sir."

"Francis." Durban said clearly. "Bugger off."

He couldn't restrain a laugh. "Alight sir."

"We'll keep your seat warm, now go get packed."

The more Francis thought on it the more he appreciated Durban was right. It had been a long time since he fought the Dilgar agent and he hadn't really seen things from a new perspective since then. He did need a break and to gain a reminder that there was more in the world than the confines of Earth Dome or an EIA space mission.

He returned to his apartment and began packing clothes for a trip home, he had called his parents and was rather humbled to learn his room had been left exactly how it was when he started his new job. He also managed to contact his old friend Dermot Hanigan who he realised he had somewhat neglected over recent months in his new job.

There was a tap at his door.

"Come in."

He looked to see it was Heather, the girl from codes he'd probably rescued from the Spectre. As usual she wore ill fitting clothes and an especially colourful hairstyle but beneath the chaos hid a really quite attractive girl.

"Heard you got some time off." She said.

"Yeah, the Director ordered me to go."

"Me too." She broke into a grin. "So where shall we go?"

"What? We?"

"Yeah, we." She rocked on the balls of her feet. "Where you heading?"

"Home, gonna see my folks and meet a friend of mine."

"Sounds great."

"Don't you want to see your own folks?"

"Not while I live and breath." She replied cheerfully.

"Well my Dad's house has a spare room you could stay in…"

"Cool, then it's settled." She stepped back from the door. "See you on the jet tomorrow morning, we could both use a bit of fun!"

"Oh yeah." Francis went back to packing his case. "Mom's going to go into overdrive when I bring a girl home."

He shut the case and tried to think of ways to convince his parents Heather was just a friend and that thery didn't have a date for Marriage. Knowing his Mom it probably wasn't going to work.

Dreadnought Deathwalker

Dilgar combined Strike Fleets

"Now I am become Death, destroyer of Worlds."

"I thought you might like that one." Sha'dur beamed at his sister. "Quite a flair for the dramatic."

Jha'dur nodded in appreciation. "I'm going to have that inscribed on the command deck, just over the main weapons consoles. I told you the humans would understand us."

"Understand, yes. Agree with, no."

It had been a few days since the Dilgar/Earth conference and the complete lack of success had been thunderous. Warmaster Len'char had been recalled to Omelos immediately for a private audience with the Supreme Warmaster, and judging by the tone of the message it was not going to be a happy meeting. That alone had made Jha'dur rather warm inside, but the safe arrival of her brother was cause for real joy.

After catching up he proceeded to tell the story of his experiences with the humans and what he had learned from them, Jha'dur absorbing every tiny detail in the process. Then as an extra gift he produced a case full of Data Crystals containing a selection of human literature and history. Before he had even finished explaining what they were she was slotting one into her state room video player.

"I took what I could of their history and literature, both written and visual." Sha'dur continued speaking. "Pictures, information shows, entertainment. A wide variety, there was too much to choose from."

"You have picked out some fascinating works." Jha'dur congratulated. "I have some time on my hands, they will fill it nicely."

"Even you can't watch all of these!" he laughed.

"Not all, but hopefully enough." She paused the show she was watching, the sight of a Nuclear cloud displayed in monochrome on the screen. It was a familiar sight to her, a defining image from Dilgar history also apparently holding importance to Earth as well. "They are only ten years behind us." She mused. "This bomb was dropped merely a decade after our own first test. But the humans stopped fighting once these weapons were deployed, we did not."

"And a lot of our world is uninhabitable because of it." Sha'dur noted.

"Destroying our enemies was not a mistake, but doing so at any cost was." The Female Warmaster analysed. "They doomed us by using Nuclear weapons so indiscriminately, those historic Warmasters poisoned our air, left radiation in much of our farmland and squandered our natural resources in pointless internecine struggles. All the time we were being watched from above."

First contact for the Dilgar hadn't been the world shattering experience it had for many people, usually starting with a smiling Centauri and ending in years of slavery. One day an astronomer had spotted a foreign object in the sky beyond the usually Dilgar spy satellite networks. Over the months more and more objects were found and when they proved to be alien in origin the leaders of Omelos were forced to accept that there was a potentially huge threat out there and it knew about Omelos.

The wars stopped and secretly the Dilgar nations combined their efforts and rapidly developed space capable munitions. Armed satellites were deployed, exo-atmospheric fighters entered service, modular stations were assembled until finally the Dilgar unveiled their new Space fleet, four Frigates which proceeded to destroy the Alien satellites in their system, later found to be Abbai in origin.

The Dilgar home system did not contain many useful resources, a few colonies were set up and it was on a survey mission to the fifth world out that Jha'dur's people found their gateway to a greater universe. An ancient Jump gate dating back thousands of years at least, yet still perfectly operational. The Dilgar found new systems and began to gather much needed resources, and then contacted their first Alien races. Namely Raiders and Pirates who preyed on the still primitive people from Omelos.

"I wonder if we could have turned out the same as these humans." Jha'dur wondered. "if we had realised a few more fundamental truths."

"Or if they could be more like us." Her brother countered.

"Our culture emphasises perfection, and that we as a race are the closest beings to perfection in the galaxy." Jha'dur mused. "But we both know that isn't true, we all make mistakes."

"Perhaps the wars of the past could have been handled better." Sha'dur agreed. "But they had to happen, it was kill or be killed."

"So history tells us." She nodded. "But as this human says, 'History is written by the Victors' so how much of it is true?"

Sha'dur was grinning. "You always need to question something."

"It's how we learn." She shrugged back. "In a hundred years how many people do you think will know the truth of this war?"

"If it's up to Len'char, none of them."

"There are few enough right now who know the real reasons for this war, and the population in general doesn't fully understand what we are doing in their name."

"I wouldn't be so sure Sister, did you see the latest rally on Omelos? They're demanding the extermination of the League entirely."

"No more than a staged show."

"True, but the people aren't objecting. If we revealed how many billions had died, I think they'd probably be pleased."

Jha'dur poured two drinks. "We come from a hard world brother."

"Its history has made it that way."

"Our history makes us all that way."

Omelos

2223

Like all architecture in the city the Spaceport was an overbearing and domineering edifice of hard granite laser carved into tall blocky pillars and squared of doorways wand windows. The were vaguely Centauri in style, though a human observer would recognize them as more akin to Greek and Roman classical style buildings common in Europe and Washington D.C, though constructed much more solidly than their Earth equivalents.

This was a deliberate action on the part of the builders, uncounted times in the past Dilgar cities had become battlefields with their buildings transformed into bunkers and command post. Every house on the planet had the potential to become a fire point, to be fitted with solid metal doors over their windows and regular wooden entryways. Each had prebuilt loopholes and large cellars beneath to act as bomb shelters and munitions stores. Every house and public building was sited with the prime concern being lines of sight and fields of fire. Every settlement was a fortress first and home second. It had to be.

Since then the world had turned and the Dilgar had seen relative peace for two centuries, though according to Jha'dur's work at the science academy it was too late. The final war had been a Nuclear holocaust, vast swathes of the planet had been rendered uninhabitable and while Jha'dur's sub species had finally won the great Wars of Race by either wiping out or enslaving any who were not of their continent the price had been the destruction of their ecosystem. Even before her brother had discovered the instability in the sun she knew Omelos' days were numbered, but while they had centuries to find an answer to that, they had barely a decade left to save her race from the new danger.

The doors to the waiting room ground open, signalling that her wait was at last over. She rose from her chair and glanced at the dozen other military personnel in the room.

"Stand to!" she ordered. "Commander on deck!"

She was surprised to hear that tone in her voice, she had never lacked the confidence and certainty to speak up, but there was a new authority in her voice since she had joined the military, she rather liked it.

She took her place at the head of the line and stood to attention just before the expected figure finally arrived.

Jha'dur noted two figures, a petite female officer who halted just inside the doorway and a much larger male who stepped up in front of her, towering above and looking down to see her face. He wore the rank of Captain and was undoubtedly her new Commander. She knew he was trying to intimidate her, force her to slip up at this first meeting, and she was going to make damn sure she didn't.

"Combat Commander Jha'dur reporting for duty with crew replacements."

"Papers." The Captain said flatly.

She handed over her orders which he quickly unfolded. The officer had striking pale hair worn in a plat that extended down the full length of his back. It was a style adopted by the old Northern tribes of her people who had been on the front lines of her race's wars for upwards of a Millenium. They had a reputation for being harsh and brusque when compare to cosmopolitan city dwellers like Jha'dur but always made the most efficient and ruthless soldiers her people deployed. Usually they served in the army and she could not recall reading about one in the Navy, and certainly not in a command role.

Of course times had changed a lot recently, and with the rapid expansion of Dilgar naval forces the high command was accepting officers based purely on experience and merit, any prejudice towards the Northern of Southern cities had melted away and the more cultured image of the navy was disappearing as the officers recruited from Central regions rubbed shoulders with the Frontier born men and women.

"This is your second assignment." The Captain stated.

"Yes sir, my first was Bio weapons research."

"You commanded a post there."

"Yes sir."

"You had a command position, yet you requested a transfer where you serve as second officer on my ship. Third in command." He fixed her with a withering stare. "Why did you run away from command?"

"I did not run sir." She answered firmly. "To adequately fulfil my role I must earn field experience. That is why I requested a starship assignment."

"A good reason." The Captain nodded. "Now tell me the truth."

"That is the…"

"Lying to a superior officer is punishable by a flogging. Tell me why you requested a transfer."

She sighed inwardly. "I found myself lacking the respect of my subordinates. I went straight from the Academy to command without serving and proving myself."

"So you have something to prove?"

"Yes sir."

"To who? Warmaster Gar'shan gave you that role, he wouldn't do that if you were inadequate."

"I had the skill, but I need to develop the authority to lead through combat experience."

"You lacked respect from your men?"

"Yes sir."

"Why didn't you do something to correct it?"

"I am sir. I requested this post."

There had been more to it than that, and her mind delighted in reminding her the real reason, the man who had mocked her like a child and tried to undermine her command. The man who had died because she did not act to prevent it. She knew that killing him would actually be considered an acceptable response to that sort of insubordination but it did not feel right to her. She would not earn respect by killing everyone around her, she would earn it through becoming an example of the ideal Dilgar officer. It was her goal and she would pursue it with all the single mindedness she could devote, exactly like every other task she took upon herself.

"There are other methods of imposing order." The Captain commented, almost reading her mind.

"I am aware of that sir, but I consider personnel an asset to be expended only when absolutely necessary."

"Very quaint." The Captain grinned. "But we'll change that attitude when you see real fighting. Who is replacing you?"

"No one sir, I remain in charge of my Bioweapons department."

The Captain gave her a look that would melt rock. "You are my second officer, you can't be in both places at once."

"No sir, I will require frequent use of a data link to oversee my research duties during my spare time."

"Spare time? What makes you think you will have any with your ship board duties?"

"It is within my ability sir, and the Warmaster agrees. He approved this arrangement personally."

The Captain checked the signature and nodded.

"It seems you have friends in high places Commander. So be it, but if you endanger my ship or mission the patronage of Warmaster Gar'shan will not help you. Nothing short of the Angel of Death herself will stop me breaking your neck, am I clear?"

"Yes sir."

He stepped back and raised his voice. "I am Battle Captain Tor'han, and you are now crew aboard the Frigate Black Blade, we have a proud history of defending Omelos. Live up to it and you will bring honour to yourselves and your kin. Fail and I'll kill you personally." He looked closely at Jha'dur with that last sentence. "Fall out and report to the crew shuttle."

Captain Tor'han left through a different door no doubt to his own executive shuttle, one more privilege of command. Jha'dur would be doing the same thing one day, she promised it to herself.

"Jha'dur?" a small voice asked beside her.

"Correct." She turned to see the small female officer who had accompanied the Captain grinning at her. It took a moment until she finally figured out that she knew her. "By the heavens, Kish'ta!"

They embraced warmly. "How long has it been?" Kish'ta spoke in joy. "Not since school!"

"At least!" Jha'dur was for once genuinely happy. "I heard you joined the fleet."

"And last I heard you were at the Science Academy?"

"Long story." She dismissed. "So we will serve together?"

"I can't wait, I'm the weapons officer, you will be my immediate superior."

Jha'dur winced a little. "About that, I know you have been in the service longer and…"

"Don't worry, I'm not jealous." Kish'ta smiled sincerely. "I'm glad for you, you always were smarter than me anyway, it'll be great to serve with you."

Jha'dur nodded. "Thank you Kish, it's important to me you are happy with this, you were always my friend."

"And always will be."

"Then you better tell me what you have been doing with your time, did you ever ditch that idiot who kept trying to ask you out?"

"Actually we married…"

One Year later

Rohiric system.

"Hold your course helm, time to impact?"

"One minute Commander," her helm officer reported through the choking smoke. ""Pirate base is intensifying fire!"

Jha'dur accepted the report with a nod. This was a hell of a baptism of fire for her first cruise as First Officer on a Dilgar warship, and one as famous as the Ni'tratha herself at that.

Her service onboard the Frigate Black Bladehad been remarkably brief, after two encounters with Pirates and Raiders she had proven herself a superb tactical thinker and earned a swift promotion and reassignment to a full sized cruiser, along with Captain Tor'han and her ever present right hand Kish'ta. Her cruiser had been assigned patrol in the newly claimed Rohiric system where Dilgar convoys had taken losses to Raiders. After a few inconclusive skirmishes Jha'dur and Kish'ta had estimated the likely location of the base the Raiders were launching their attacks from.

Naturally she had been right, an asteroid base had been located in virtually the exact area she had predicted and with surprise on her side the cruiser had begun a full scale assault on the base. Sadly that wasn't the only surprise on this day, a Raider strike force happened to be returning home at the exact moment the battle began, catching the Ni'tratha between the base and the surprisingly well armed Dragon Ship the Pirates had been using.

Captain Tor'han had reacted to the situation admirably, turning on the Dragon ship first as the biggest threat and in a remarkable show of skill had beaten the vessel despite being out gunned. However during the final exchange the Dilgar ship had suffered heavy damage to its main weapons, and moments later a damaged Raider fighter had hit the bridge causing excessive damage to the Ni'tratha.

The hit had severely wounded Captain Tor'han who was now being frantically worked on by a pair of medics at the back of the bridge. As first officer it had fallen to Jha'dur to assume command and find away to save the ship. She didn't feel a huge amount of fear, the one emotion she did feel was isolation. There was no one to ask advice from with Tor'han unconscious and Kish'ta in the fire control room trying to jury rig the guns and get Jha'dur some firepower.

It was all up to her now, her decision alone would be obeyed. Life and death were in her hands along with the fate of one of the largest and most valuable ships in the Dilgar navy. Under such circumstances nobody would blame her for running, indeed it would be expected, but for some reason that just wasn't going to happen. She needed to get to the Rohiric command base soon, but she couldn't just leave that base to be evacuated. The Raiders had to pay.

"Weapons?"

"Negative Commander."

"Come on Kish." She whispered.

"Enemy fighters are coming from Starboard!"

Jha'dur nodded, point defences had long since been destroyed by the Dragon ship. "Brace for contact, hold course."

A trio of missiles blasted into the cruisers hull, peeling open a section of the armour plating and exposing the left side engine room to space. Miraculously the machinery itself was undamaged and the engine continued to burn, but internal sensors facelessly reported twenty six crew members were no longer onboard the ship.

"Impact in thirty seconds."

Jha'dur had taken a risk, rather than hang back and endure fighter strikes until the guns were repaired she was closing on the base, or more accurately was on a collision course at flank speed. If the guns were not fixed in time then she had another plan to secure victory, though the cost might not be pretty. Either way that base would die today.

"Weapons?"

The weapons rating shook his head.

"Well then, this should be very interesting."

In her estimation the ship was barely in condition to fly, let alone fight. She'd been torn open in a dozen locations, main power was fluctuating and there was a leak in the jump drive with the incredibly radioactive Quantium 40 forcing the abandonment of about a third of the ship. Every single thing that could go wrong on a warship had gone wrong and them some, it was an unwinnable situation. But Jha'dur did not see it that way.

The base defences sliced more sections from the hull, carrying away the portside Laser cannon. AT this rate even if Kish'ta got the weapons back online they wouldn't have the weight of fire needed to finish the base. It seemed that Jha'dur would need to implement her final plan.

"Fifteen seconds!"

The Raider fighters broke off from the falling Dilgar ship, by now the Asteroid dominated their sensors, the base dug into its centre. She was unconcerned with them, with the base gone the short range fighters would become coffins for their pilots as they slowly suffocated. A smile briefly flickered on her lips at the thought.

"Ten seconds!"

"Ready on helm." Jha'dur said calmly. "On my word only."

"Six, five, four…"

"Activate jump engines!" she snapped. "Hold on to something!"

Ever since the Dilgar had achieved jump travel the military had sought a way to turn the mode of travel into a weapon. The simple energies involved in opening a jump point had the strategists going green eyed with envy, but so far there had been no reliable way to open a jump point precisely on top of an enemy ship. But against a multi mile asteroid base no such accuracy was needed. Likewise by opening the point so close to the ship Jha'dur made sure it hit almost exactly where she wanted it to, right on top of the base.

The gold hues vortex jabbed into the asteroid and expanded into the familiar dimensional funnel, pulverising or out right atomising anything in its path within a second, the base included. The asteroid fractured, its core exploding in a burst of fire and molten rock as a result of the sudden pressure exerted on its mass by the vortex. The Raider fighters nearby were shredded in a rock storm as both base and asteroid ceased to be.

The timing was absolutely critical, if Jha'dur had waited too long her ship would have destroyed the base by simply hitting it and exploding, noble but not a great career move. If she opened it too early the Ni'tratha would have been caught in the asteroids destruction before it could enter the safety of hyperspace and almost certainly be destroyed by the titanic wave of destruction she had caused. As it turned out Jha'durs timing was perfect and the ship barely rolled as it caught a hint of the blast before the jump point closed behind them.

"We're in hyperspace." The helm officer laughed. "We made it!"

"Of course we did." Jha'dur smiled. "You didn't foubt me did you?"

"No Ma'am." The Officer grinned.

"What was our last sensor reading?"

"The base was gone and the asteroid was in the process of breaking up." The appropriate officer stated. "It seems twenty fighters survived."

"Let them asphyxiate." Jha'dur dismissed. "It is better than they deserve."

"Damage reports are coming in Commander."

"Download them to my station." Jha'dur headed to her console, looking over her shoulder briefly at the command chair. She had earned the right to sit there, and she was the de facto Captain of this cruiser. But something inside told her not to, Tor'han was still alive and so long as he was breathing it was still his ship, his command and his place at the centre of the bridge. Despite what people might say behind her back loyalty was one of her most noted qualities.

"Set your course for the transfer point, and somebody tell me where Commander Kish'ta went?"

The bulkhead door was still radiating hit to the extent that the air in front of it was shimmering and standing within fifty feet was almost unbearable. Jha'dur was staring blankly at it from less than six feet away, already perspiring but not caring.

"The doors sealed themselves automatically after the hit, isolating this whole section." The crew chief spoke emptily, aware that the First Officer needed to know, but at the same time he didn't want to be the one to tell her. "This deck was unaffected, but the deck below took shrapnel damage."

Jha'dur did not take her eyes off the door.

"I'm afraid Commander Kish'ta was inside that section. There was no hull breach or damage, but…" he tailed off.

"But something happened on the deck below." She said tonelessly.

"Yes Commander, the plasma feeds to the Bolter assemblies, that was why we lost power to main weapons, well they were on the deck below. Shrapnel cut the lines and caused a plasma spill, flash burned everything on deck four, we lost eighteen people there alone."

"But the plasma was contained."

"Yes Ma'am, it didn't leak onto this deck, but," He swallowed, his throat completely dry. "But the heat from the deck below, it rose and with no where to escape to…"

"Kish was cooked like meat in an oven."

The Chief was revolted by the analogy. "I don't think she felt it Commander."

"The weapons deck is double armoured Morbidium, the heat would rise through at a relatively slow rate." Jha'dur said absently as if describing an experiment. "Gradually building by about two or three degrees a minute. She was slowly cooked alive and we knew nothing about it."

"I'm sorry Commander, I know you were friends."

"You know nothing about our friendship. The Dilgar despise orphans, they call us outcast as we have no parents to guide us. When my Parents dies Kish'ta was the only child who did not abandon me. She remained my friend throughout my child hood. My only true friend, probably the only one I will ever have."

"Sorry." The chief repeated. "The air won't be cool enough for a week to recover the body."

"Blow the airlocks." Jha'dur ordered. "Vent it into space."

The Chief blinked. "Commander Kish'ta's body will be lost."

"Its just burnt flesh now. She has gone. It doesn't mean a damn anymore. Blow the locks, we can't operate with this corridor impassable."

"If you are sure."

"It was an order, of course I'm damn well sure!" She snapped, carefully reasserting control and breathing. "Make it happen Chief, I'll be in my quarters."

Jha'dur decided that she looked like a ghost, her face was deathly pale and lips almost blue. Still she looked in the mirror unable to look elsewhere for fear of reminding herself of the fact her one friend was now dead. This was beyond grief, it seemed even more acute than when her parents had died because this time she could have prevented it, if she had jumped away as soon as the ship was crippled instead of taking on the base there would have been time to find and save Kish'ta. Her death lay squarely at Jha'dur's feet.

No, no she refused to accept that. Kish hadn't died because of her, it was the Raiders! But if Jha'dur had put her crew first and finishing the battle second Kish would be alive. But then the Raiders would still be in business and more freighters would be hit, more Dilgar lives lost. But Kish would be alive, and Jha'dur would have a friend still alive in this world.

It was point and counter point, reasons for and reasons against. Her conscience wailed at her for fighting while her sense of duty told her there was no other way. It didn't really make her feel better.

She couldn't even bear to have the body aboard the ship, even though Kish'ta's parents would probably have wanted to bury at least something of their daughter. Jha'dur had acted for herself at that moment, an impulsive decision to save her some pain. Again it wasn't working.

She reached into the private food store beside her mirror and grabbed a bottle of prime Brandy, t was half full, the previous half having being consumed the night before as she and Kish drank to a glorious victory. It took her every effort not to break down there and then, she had to force herself to remember Tor'han was undergoing an operation on the Medical deck and she remained in command of this ship. Her first hour of command was also the worst hour of her life bar none.

She poured a glass, her hand shaking, and downed it in one swift gulp, ignoring the harsh taste of the alcohol as it bolted down. She looked longingly at the bottle, wanted just to lose herself and dull the misery with incoherent escapism. It would be so easy, so terribly easy to just to go there and not return to this hateful existence.

She knew the ship needed her, but she didn't need it. Not anymore. Her conscience told her she should never have set foot on this ship, or in this uniform. Since she had joined the service the only thing that had happened was that people had died directly because of her. Some of them deserved it. Some of them clearly didn't. This was all her fault she had to take responsibility.

But there was another half that told her it wasn't her fault, she didn't pull the trigger, she didn't fire on the ship. It was the Raiders, they were to blame.

It came down to one decision, blame herself or blame somebody else.

She gripped the bottle hard, as if she could transfer her hurt to the glass container, then with a snarl threw back her arm and hurled it at the wall, smashing it in a shower of liqueur. She yelled in anguish, one long moment of pure and utter grief where she dug her nails into the wood of the table in her quarters, then let it pass. Kish'ta's death was not her fault. It was all due to Raiders, and some where still out there.

"Jha'dur to bridge." She announced calmly.

"Yes Commander."

"Come about, take us back to the location of the base. There are still Raiders there."

"I thought we were going to let them die in their cockpits?"

"There has been a change in plan. We will pick them up."

"As you wish." The helm officer stated. "Personally Commander I wanted them to suffer after what they did to us."

Jha'dur opened a drawer in her desk, it was filled with a assortment of surgical instruments and blades.

"Don't worry about that Specialist." She picked a thick bladed scalpel. "When I'm done they'll be begging for an airlock to throw themselves out of."

When the ship returned days later Jha'dur was given her first real command in recognition of her combat skill and promotion to Battle Master. She was given the mission of driving pirates from Dilgar space, something she took to with incredibly brutality and the single mindedness that later marked her campaigns. Within two months only fools crossed into Dilgar territory to raid ships, and Jha'dur would often take her ships into Neutral space to take on Raiders just for the fun of it.

But she had still taken it personally, and ever since she had considered Raiders the lowest form of life and if she managed to capture any subjected them to the very worst torment her mind could envision, and her mind was often a deeply dark place.

Dilgar Strike Fleet

Eight Years later…

"Yes," She repeated to her brother. "Our past makes us what we are."

Beneath her feet the deck rumbled a little, with a huff she put her drink on the desk in her room, pausing slightly as she saw the nail marks left there from the day Kish'ta had died, then switched on the intercom.

"Captain An'jash, what was that?"

"Apologies Warmaster, one of them slipped through our defence screen."

"Damage?"

"Minor buckling to one hull plate, nothing of significance."

"General status report?"

"Cascan home defences are potent, but we remain out of range. Bombardment commencing on schedule."

"Very good." Jha'dur approved. "I'll be moving to the observation deck, contact me there as required."

She flicked the switch off. "Shall we take in the view Brother?"

"By all means." Sha'dur smiled. "Always a pleasure to watch you at work."

The Observation deck was a seldom used part of the Dreadnought located at the front between the two large mandibles well covered from attack. The bulkhead behind was extremely well armoured so damage to this room would not penetrate the hull and it was considered an expendable luxury.

The centre of the room had a long table best used for formal dinners the Dreadnought Commander wished to hold, though Jha'dur had never considered using it at any point. The dominating feature however was the huge gallery of windows looking out from the front of the ship, useless from a practical point of view and considered anachronistic to the Warmaster. Still, she had to admit that it was a hell of a view.

The Planet Cascor was clear from the window, a strikingly verdant world of blue white and green hanging perfectly in the emptiness beyond, a shelter of life in the cold night. The planet had been considered for Dilgar habitation but the higher than normal radiation levels from the local star were considered to damaging in the long term to Dilgar biology, therefore the world would be neutralised.

Ahead of the window she could see the ships of her escort wing a few miles out, and faint dots far beyond them representing other elements positioned to protect the flagship and the bombardment cruisers.

"Didn't you want to command this yourself?" Sha'dur took a seat beside her, a plate of snacks from the nearby galley.

"Its simple enough, and Captain An'jash could use some experience leading the fleet." She replied. "With their capital ships dead or dying the Cascan fleet is no threat to us, and their defence grid is fairly poor."

"A lot of fighters though." Sha'dur noted. "Hell of a lot of fighters."

"That's why we are keeping our distance, hitting them from range."

To make her point a rock flew past heading towards the planet thrown from a mass driver. It would take several minutes to arrive and could be intercepted, but with just fighter the Cascor would be hard pressed to deflect or destroy it.

"I estimate one in ten will get through." Jha'dur stated. "Not enough for total destruction, but it should cripple infrastucture and make it impossible for them to replace their lost ships." She smiled "But I did have one surprise, a pathogen that can survive the heat of reentry."

"You laced the rocks with them?"

She nodded. "They'll drop a steady stream of contaminated dust on their course through the atmosphere, infecting anything beneath them before finally smashing into the ground. Even then the dust cloud will probably contain a great deal of the Pathogen. Airborne infection and mass destruction."

"Very efficient." Sha'dur complimented.

A pair of Thoruns glided by silently across the bow of the ship, their trident profile reassuringly menacing.

"Intelligence says they are mass producing heavy weapons satellites." Sha'dur commented. "The planet will be well protected within a month, we should close now if you want to kill them easily."

"We don't have the spare resources." Jha'dur remarked. "My fleet is too low on fighters and you need to head out to Ipsha tomorrow to keep on schedule."

"Ipsha." Sha'dur repeated. "Do we go to war with them all?"

Unlike most League members the Ipsha were not a united world but instead remained divided among tribal lines, specifically twelve baronies each in constant competition with each other. They had each made it into space and possessed roughly the same ships but only one Barony had actually joined the League, the rest were more concerned with their home business.

"Far from it, we limit our attacks to those who would side with the League."

"But ultimately we are going to kill them all?"

"Eventually, but the Ipsha home system is a nightmare of astronomical abnormalities. We have to pass through a patch of densely packed singularities, relatively speaking, to hit their home world. The gravity throws of hyperspace for days around there, we'd have to fly through in normal space."

"Perfect ambush territory." Sha'dur considered.

"Exactly." Agreed his sister. "So we divide and conquer, assault this colony world here, draw out the ships loyal to the League and kill them. The resulting power vacuum caused by losing so many ships will weaken the position of the Barony encouraging rivals at home to attack their holdings."

"They are too busy fighting each other to attack our flanks."

"And severely weakened by internal struggle when we do finally decide to deal with them." Jha'dur smiled. "Sometimes aliens are so predictable."

"Sometimes." Her brother agreed as a ball of flame engulfed a Cascan city. "But sometimes they can still surprise you."

Zhabar

Drazi Homeworld.

With a final heave Stro'kath threw his opponent against the hard stone wall, bouncing him off it and catching him on the rebound with a vicious headbutt dropping the leader of Blue Fleet down to the cold floor in unconciousness.

"Anybody else dare to challenge me?" Stro'kath snarled, wiping a trickle of white blood from his split lip. "Anyone?"

Before him two dozen of the Freeholds most senior officers remained silent, three unconscious bodies lay on the ground around the hefty form of Warleader Stro'kath. He was not a young man, indeed he was among the oldest of the Drazi still wearing a uniform but his combat prowess was legendary and even in old age he was a small mountain of muscle and bone quite capable of flattening warriors a quarter of his age.

"Then it is settled." He concluded. "I will lead the fleets personally. Dismiss and return to your stations."

The group silently turned and began to leave with a few low mutters. A couple of officers remained behind to revive the other fleet commanders Stro'kath had defeated in combat.

"Captain To'mak." Stro'kath waved. "Get my shuttle ready, we leave at once."

"Yes Warleader." The younger Drazi subordinate bowed. "Do you require anything else?"

"A little luck and a lot of enemies to kill." The old commander grinned a crooked smile. "The plan is set and we have the honour of taking the Storm Hawk into battle at the head of the combined fleets. In a few days we will have great glory."

"Or a worthy death." To'mak nodded.

"Preferably great glory!" Stro'kath chuckled. "I plan on living at least another Century!"

For the Drazi people strength was the defining characteristic of success, the strongest in their society were usually given the respect to rise to the top, though since reaching the stars strength of mind had been accepted as equal to strength of body. The Drazi government was comprised of highly intelligent people who were put forward as candidates based purely on merit and intelligence much like any other world. Of course that's where the similarity ended, for rather than have candidates for the same job go before a public election they would instead hit each other until one of them fell over. The individual still standing would then be given the post in question and be recognized as both intelligent enough for the post, and deserving enough having gained it through right of combat.

It was the basic principle upon which Drazi society was built, constant tests of strength and skill among peers. To outsiders it looked needlessly barbaric, and the regular 'Green versus Purple' contests that turned and Drazi settlement into a massive excuse for a brawl was a complete anathema to the League. However it was not as random as it seemed, once the fighting was over and the winners of the Green or Purple groups sought to form a new leadership only the most qualified were able to compete for senior government jobs, many of whom had years of experience serving their people anyway. There were checks and balances in place to prevent anarchists and rebels, even if they were physically the strongest individual on the planet rising to positions of leadership through challenge and combat.

The system worked for the Drazi, and while it meant that usually the right people were in the right job it did frequently mean that when something dramatic happened the Drazi response could be painfully slow. Any action had to be approved by the council of leaders, a bill would be put forward, some delegates would support it and some would oppose it. Whether the bill passed or not depended entirely on whether the supporters were able to beat down the opposers in a mass brawl in the open space at the centre of the high council chamber. Visiting Earth traders witnessing this had suggested the Earth Senate resolve debates in the same way claiming the population would love it. Sadly the Senate did not deign to comment on the proposal.

This did tend to mean that popular bills passed quite easily as supporters outnumbered opponents and hastily defeated them, however it did not guarantee that the best proposals were accepted as policy, only the most popular.

When the Dilgar attacked two bills were proposed, one calling for an immediate counter attack and another calling for a tactical retreat and steady massing of overwhelming force. Passions had been high among the leaders and the people at the Dilgar attack and were utterly enraged demanding immediate vengeance. The bill for counter attack passed in a landslide while the more cautious plan was quite literally buried in a sea of angry Drazi fists.

The counter attack ultimately ran into Warmaster Jha'dur and was routed, costing the Drazi the initiative and tens of thousands of warriors in the fleet and on Latig which was virus bombed from orbit as part of Deathwalkers sadistic experiments. It just the made the Drazi even more furious and even more eager to hit back as hard and as fast as they could.

It was at this point Warleader Stro'kath made his presence felt and saved the Drazi from an even greater disaster. While most of the Drazi fleet leaders wanted to pull together every last ship and retake Latig Stro'kath argued against it. He supported the idea of a steady build up in secret and fighting a holding action until the Drazi made good their losses and were ready to deploy a war winning armada to destroy all in its path. Virtually every Admiral in the Navy challenged him to combat to prove his plan worthy of acceptance, and Stro'kath would have battled them all had not Jo'shall stepped in.

While the Drazi high council was the legislative body of the Freehold there was also an executive body in the form of the High Leader, a position equivalent to President or Monarch gifted to the greatest living Drazi. Unlike every other post of significance the holder does not have to fight for it, mostly because he or she will be exceptionally old by the time they are considered and past their prime. It is awarded to those Drazi who are living legends, those who have the qualities of physical strength, mental agility and the cunning of a warrior or great politician. Jo'shall had been both War Leader of the Drazi fleet and a highly successful Ambassador to the League, not to mention being undefeated in personal combat during his many and frequent bouts of combat.

While the council made the decisions on policy Jo'shall had the right if desired to override them if the matter was serious enough, and such was the respect for the man and the position that the decision would be respected if it had merit. Shortly after the defeat at Latig J'shall had stepped forward and made such a decree, the Drazi would not attack immediately but would follow Stro'kaths advice and bide their time until they were sure they could defeat the best the Dilgar had.

That time was now.

As was tradition once a strategy was decided all conflict was set aside and the various officers worked together to create a workable plan and set up all the elements required to see it through. Supplies were stockpiled, warriors trained, ships produced in massive quantities and all the while the Drazi front line fleets fought vigourously against the Dilgar but went out of their way to restrain themselves. The Dilgar for their part played along, concentrating their attacks rimwards and leaving the Drazi front stable enough for the Freehold to mass its forces quietly away from prying eyes.

The final part of the plan involved pulling back ships from the frontlines and the Narn border to join one of the great fleets and launch a massive all out attack on the Fendamir system marking the keystone of the Dilgar frontline. With Fendamir gone they could jump to Tithalis and liberate that world before the going onto the prize itself; Omelos.

Unlike Zhabar which could only be reached by going through two or three extremely well defended systems Omelos was connected directly to the old Drazi border by a reliable jump route. If Stro'kaths plan worked by the time the Dilgars best fleets were recalled to face this threat Omelos would be ash and the war would be over.

The last point that needed to be decided was which officer would lead the combined fleets, and that debate had been handled the old fashioned way with the officers deemed skilled enough engaging in combat. Stro'kath had won hands down and now had the honour of leading the Drazi into the greatest battle in their history.

"Prepare the final deployment orders." The grizzled soldier said as he clambered into his shuttle. "Bring the Narn border fleets to the rendezvous and deploy the decoys."

Stro'kath was taking a risk with the Narn, they were known to be expansionist and would probably not resist the temptation of annexing one or two Drazi systems while the fleet was busy with the Dilgar. The fleet had sent armed freighters to replace warships rigged to broadcast false power signatures so at least on long range scans it would look like the border was still secure. Likewise similar ships were sent to the Dilgar front to add to the illusion that nothing had changed and the Drazi fleets were exactly where everyone thought they were.

Surprise was going to be key to success, if the Dilgar figured it out they would recall heavy reinforcements at once and make the Drazi job much harder, though Stro'kath was confident that he had the numbers to face anything the enemy could throw it him. Surprise meant speed, and if the advance was fast enough the Dilgar would have to throw fleets against him piecemeal rather than massing a hammer blow of a counter attack. The idea of the full might of the Dilgar navy battling the full might of the Drazi over Omelos did appeal to the old fashioned warrior in Stro'kath, but practicality had long since defeated passion and he would conduct this battle with all the coldness of a Dilgar Warmaster.

The Drazi fleet was different now, the hot blooded and rash officers had charged to death at the start of the war, the current leaders were far more cunning and wily having survived numerous battles with their blood enemies. The Dilgar expected a rabble, instead they would face a disciplined and highly motivated combat force.

That, at least was Stro'kaths plan. He fully expected that it wouldn't work out perfectly and knew his enemy was much smarter and more determined than many subordinates gave them credit. He doubted he could level Omelos before facing the main might of the Dilgar fleet but he deemed that acceptable. It would be a battle of his choosing and he had already trained his fleet leaders and through them every Captain in the fleet in newly formulated anti-Dilgar tactics.

They were as ready as they would ever be, and looking through the window of his shuttle as it rose into space Stro'kath's heart beat faster with pride. The sky was full of ships, deadly pack hunters that the Drazi excelled at fielding. Individually they were no match for a Dilgar destroyer, let alone cruisers and Dreadnoughts, but Stro'kaths new tactics were based on pack hunters were a dozen Drazi ships would overpower a single Dilgar vessel before moving on to the next and the next.

It relied on discipline and team work, something every race in the galaxy dismissed the Drazi as not having. Stro'kath was going to prove them wrong, the simple fact that his people had held back for these last six months of war was proof enough of their incredible restraint. Troops were still fighting and dying on Fendamir and the Drazi had waited. Dilgar ships raided nearby worlds, people who had not evacuated in time died by the thousand and the Drazi waited. Warships held the line, fighting with reduced crews and few spare parts because it all went to this fleet, and still the Drazi waited.

Now they would wait no more.

The massive fleet began exiting normal space in groups making for the front to meet up with similar fleets from other staging worlds. It was the greatest gathering of military power in Drazi history, a beacon of hope during their darkest hour. At the head was the Storm Hawk ready to deliver justice to the invaders and exact vengeance for all the fallen.

Operation Retributive Strike had begun.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 41

47

Mokafa System

Drazi Space

Dilgar Third Strike Fleet.

"Hyperspace exit successful."

The report sounded on the bridge of the Dreadnought Terror with a slight nod from it's commander, a middle aged Officer in the grand uniform of a Warmaster. Like most of his peers the officer was aware that a Warmaster was as much a politician as a soldier, but unlike the majority of them this man was far happier fighting then talking. That had earned him a friend in the shape of the Supreme Warmaster and his little circle which included Jha'dur, and gained him command of one of only three Strike fleets in the Imperium. It was a far greater honour than commanding a regular fleet of the Line, and guaranteed him the best ships and crews on the Drazi front.

"Warmaster Dar'sen." His aide Battle Captain Ca'ra raised his voice with a mild tone of doubt. "Sensors are not showing any Drazi patrols."

Mokafa was a relatively high value Drazi world, while not having any particularly impressive resources it was the next world on from Dilgar positions on Fendamir and a strategically important part of the Drazi defence line. The planet had been heavily guarded for months and a main staging post for reinforcements heading to Drazi ships in and around occupied Fendamir.

"Contact our ELINT screen, get them to perform a high grade scan of the local area." Dar'sen ordered. "Long range scans reported the Drazi Orange fleet was here."

"Yes sir, they did." Ca'ra grunted as he relayed the Warmasters orders. "But it could have been a trick. We used the same one ourselves against the Hyach."

During the assault on the Hyach homeworld Jha'dur had deployed a fleet of transports rigged to broadcast fake signals making them look like a fleet of warships. It had decoyed the Hyach fleet and left their homeworld scarcely defended and open to attack, Jha'dur had put the Hyach fleet exactly where she wanted it. Dar'sen didn't like to think the Drazi were doing the exact same thing to them.

The Drazi front had been stable since the first month of the war with Dilgar forces concentrating on holding the system of Tithalis and securing Fendamir. They had a small presence at Latig but it was not considered important enough for a full garrison and had changed ownership a few times. For Dar'sen Fendamir was the main concern with Drazi ground forces still fighting hard on the surface and the occasional warship or two running the Dilgar blockade to resupply the ground forces.

Dar'sen had made repeated requests for weapons of mass destruction to finally remove this thorn in his side. Just one Mass driver would have ended the battle in a day but War Command did not send any, all high yield weapons were being deployed to the rimward front and the other two strike fleets as a priority. They simply had more people to kill.

It had been decided the fairly low intensity combat of the Drazi front would be maintained as a sort of proving ground for new ships and crews. They would join one of the line fleets and see a few months combat before joining a Strike fleet with a reasonable level of experience. The same was true of Fendamir with the ongoing ground fighting there and at Latig acting as a sort of 'Trial by Fire' for the Dilgar army.

It made sense, but it relied on the Drazi front remaining stable, something Dar'sen recognized to be a dangerous assumption, and in the meantime meant the majority of ships in the area were brand new with crews fresh from the academy. Only Dar'sens 3rd Strike fleet had any real veterans, and even then they were not as hardened or skilled as the ships fighting with Jha'dur or her Brother.

The Dilgar Navy operated ten large fleets, Three Strike Fleets, three Line Fleets, three Defence Fleets and one Home Fleet. Each fleet was commanded by a Warmaster with the exception of the Third Defence fleet which was larger than the other forces but never deployed as one unit, rather it was split up to garrison the systems captured and placed under siege during the offensive. The Strike fleets had the three radical Warmasters in command, Jha'dur, Sha'dur and Dar'sen who believed the key to victory was impact and aggression. The Line fleets had competent Warmasters and where used as support elements in battle, their commanders preferring a more traditional method of warfare involving steady advances and grinding their enemies down through attrition and superior firepower. Finally the defence fleets were used as a reserve or to occupy key areas of the front line or support ground invasions. They were made mainly of light ships and transports and commanded by Warmasters more associated with the Army than the Navy, including Len'char. The final Home fleet was deployed at Omelos and acted as a strategic reserve under the authority of the Supreme Warmaster.

Two Strike fleets and one Line fleet were operating in League space toward the rim under overall command of Warmaster Jha'dur while two Line fleets and Dar'sens Strike fleet operated in Drazi Space under Warmaster Per'sha who was the oldest member of the council and the most set in his ways. He was a staunch traditionalist which was probably why he had been assigned to hold the Drazi front leaving the more dynamic Jha'dur to handle the main offensive battles.

With one defence fleet deployed on each front and a third in reserve at Rohric it meant that on paper both thrusts of the Dilgar invasion had an equal number of ships and resources, but as any officer of Battle Captain or higher could agree the Rimward force was by far the better equipped, trained and motivated. The Drazi front had an unfortunately high number of politically appointed officers who reached command through their contacts and connections, not through merit, and nowhere was this better exemplified than the fact Len'char had nominal command of the local defence fleet, though he seldom commanded it personally leaving it to his aide who was equally useless.

Of the four fleets only Dar'sens could be considered an example of a fully operational Dilgar military formation, the remaining forces were mixed at best with inexperienced but eager crews mixed with poor leaders and sons of wealthy figures who thought they'd look good in uniform. If they had fought the Hyach or Brakiri the casualties would have been enormous, and even now he dared not take them with him into battle.

Dar'sen had been conducting raids on Drazi worlds since the focus had turned rimwards using his fleet to hit Drazi worlds within range randomly and keep them on the defensive. It would keep the main Drazi fleets fighting just the Strike fleet and not give them a chance to engage the substandard Line forces fighting around Fendamir. It had worked well for months, and had the side effect of keeping his fleet sharp and with plenty of combat experience under its belt from the numerous engagements. They had been expected one more medium sized battle here at Mokafa followed by a little orbital bombardment, but instead they were facing a very ominous mystery.

"Our readings are confirmed sir, the system is empty."

"Fleets don't just vanish." Dar'sen grimaced. "Any engine trails?"

"No sir."

"So we can't plot a vector." The Warmaster winced. "They could have gone anywhere."

"Our intelligence reports for the week made no mention of any Drazi redeployments." Ca'ra remarked.

"Have you met our head of Intelligence?" Dar'sen raised a bushy eyebrow. "He wouldn't know if he had pants on without checking twice."

"The fleet will be waiting for orders sir."

Dar'sen nodded. "Get a signal to command, priority one, Warmasters eyes only."

"Ready sir."

"Download our sensor log and request instructions from the Supreme Warmaster, if the Drazi are preparing to attack this could be the perfect opportunity for us to launch a pre-emptive strike and stop this before it starts."

Ca'ra got to work leaving the fleet commander to weigh up the options and try to formulate an appropriate plan. He had a golden opportunity here, but if handled wrong, or if he misjudged the situation, he could end up leading his fleet into a massacre.

In any case the decision rested with Gar'shan, as Grand Strategist it was his call on how the fleets would deploy, a decision Dar'sen would honour. The Supreme Warmaster was the best strategic thinker in the galaxy, better even than Jha'dur, and if 3rd Strike fleet had the opportunity to deliver a crushing blow to the Drazi it was a twist of fate the old warrior would gladly seize upon and exploit.

He settled back and waited, confident the correct decision would be made.

Omelos

Central Command facility

"No, I don't think there's any need to concern the Supreme Warmaster with this." Len'char smiled indulgently.

"Forgive me Warmaster," The communication technician bowed his head. "But it is addressed to him as well as the other Council members."

"The Supreme Warmaster has been ill lately, the rest of the council can take care of this information without disturbing him, it is not especially ground breaking."

"As you wish, Warmaster."

"I do." Len'char stated. "You are dismissed."

The Warmaster walked away without caring to acknowledge the technicians salute, this was indeed a great opportunity not just for the Dilgar but for him in particular. He activated a wall mounted intercom.

"Warmaster Dru'tal and Sen'ja kindly convene in the council room immediately."

He switched the panel off with a wide smile, Jha'dur was famous for winning battles, now he had the opportunity to do the same.

The table at the centre of the chamber had room for nine people, though it was rare that all nine council members were present at the same time. Large video screens around the wall would normally display the absent officer when a vote was needed over a secure data link from their frontline warship or base. The high walls were decorated with ancient battle flags draped like curtains from the rafters with the circular chamber accessible only through two highly reinforced doors.

Most of those chairs remained unused during this secretive meeting, and all the communication screens remained black as Len'char held council with his close supporters in the council.

"Why would the Drazi leave this system?" Dru'tal asked.

"Probably because their fleet is breaking." Len'char replied. "We've been destroying their ships at record rates and they simply can't replace them."

"I have my doubts about the casualty rates." Sen'ja grumbled. "We should have beaten them long ago based on the number of claimed kills. The verified kills are far less."

"Maybe, but we have been facing less and less Drazi ships in recent weeks." Dru'tal observed. "They do seem to be running out of ships or crews."

"My thoughts exactly." Len'char grinned. "Which is why we need to act now to capitalise on this."

The other two Warmasters gave him their attention. Both had risen through the ranks due mainly to politics like Len'char and had little in the way of real combat experience. What they did have however was a great deal of money and close relatives within Dilgar industry. Dru'tal's brother ran the main supplier of military grade fuel to the Imperium while Sen'la's father administered the ship construction company currently consuming huge amounts of money developing the next generation of Dilgar Warships. A project that was making incredible advances thanks to technology procured by Len'char from across League space.

"As you know the Supreme Warmaster's health is failing, honestly speaking he'll be dead before the year is out."

That took the other two a little by surprise. "You are sure it is so soon?" Dru'tal asked.

"Quite sure." Len'char smiled thinly. "I could probably tell you the exact day, but that isn't important. What is important is that there will need to be a new leader."

"We already know you want the role." Sen'ja dismissed. "And we've given our word to support you in return for certain exploitation contracts on captured League worlds."

"Support that is welcome." Len'char nodded in appreciation. "I have the ear of the Emperor but while his word counts for much among the public his actual power is weak. Our rival on the other hand has the love of the people and the favour of Gar'shan."

"Jha'dur." Dru'tal spoke with revulsion. "An upstart if ever I saw one."

"The problem is she is very good at what she does." Len'char admitted. "People like a winner, and her successes in battle are remarkable. If…when Gar'shan dies she will almost certainly become Supreme Warmaster."

"Unless we kill her." Dru'tal smiled.

Beside him Sen'la shook his head. "We have to be practical, we are in the middle of a major war and much as we may wish it we can't kill our best field commander, much as we want to."

"At least not yet." Len'char added. "Not until victory is certain, then she will be surplus to requirements. However Gar'shan will probably die before that point, which leads us to our problem. We can't kill her, so we must beat her at her own game."

"How?"

"Through military success." Len'char grinned. "And that is where this message helps us, Mokafa will be our victory."

His associates seemed to agree with that.

"Mokafa has defied all attempts to neutralize it since the war began, finally seizing it would be a great victory." Sen'la considered.

"And we have a full fleet in the system uncontested." Dru'tal saw Len'chars plan. "They can bomb the planet and prepare for a ground assault."

"Exactly. All we need to do is mobilize a few divisions and take credit for finally capturing Mokafa and breaking the stalemate on the Drazi front. A genuine and resounding military victory."

"We are sure the Drazi fleet is on the run though?" Sen'la checked. "Because if it isn't we're committing our best fleet in the area to planetary blockade and sending ground troops to a place where we might not be able to support them."

"The fleet can be redeployed." Len'char dismissed.

"Yes, but it'll take a few days, a lot can happen in a few days."

The senior Warmaster glared at Sen'la. "Are you having doubts?"

"Constantly." He admitted. "But I shall support any decision you make."

"Good, all I want is your loyalty." Len'char smiled triumphantly. "Don't worry, you will get your share of the glory, and profits."

"This victory is a stepping stone to power, a gift." Dru'tal said. "You have my fleet at your disposal."

"And mine." Confirmed Sen'la. "Once Dar'sen has secured the are we will move in and garrison it."

"And ensure we take credit." Dru'tal added.

"Then it is agreed." Len'char broke the meeting. "I'll send orders to take the planet. Mobilise those ships under your direct command and prepare them to jump. This will be a day the Dilgar long remember."

Dublin

Ireland

Earth Alliance

Francis stood on the street corner under the blue sky in shirt sleeves, the first hints of summer sunshine beating down on his remarkably pale complexion, a side effect of working indoors constantly. Beside him stood Heather with her styled purple dyed hair, combat boots and loose fitting military fatigues. She cut an incredibly chaotic figure stood next to the well groomed Francis but her easy manner and cheerful expression made her seem eminently approachable despite the attire.

"So you used to hang out here?" She asked conversationally.

"Yeah, McCarthy's Web Café."

"Wanna go in?"

"Last time I was in there I got arrested."

"Cool." Heather grinned.

"Then I got a job at our current office." Francis turned to her. "I saw a movie about it once, they called it a 'Sting' operation."

"Same thing happened to me in Montreal. They got eyes everywhere." She paused. "Well I guess that's 'we' now ain't it?"

"Guess so." Francis admitted. "Takes a little getting used to."

"Don't it just." Heather confirmed.

A few cars whirred past as they waited another minute until finally a white and green Taxi pulled up in front of the Net Café and deposited a scruffily dressed male of about the same age as Francis and Heather. He looked around until he spotted Francis, then made his way over.

"Franky boy!" the man called. "Damn you look pale!"

"Heather, this sorry looking guy is Dom, Dom this is Heather from my new job."

"You keep good company." He inclined his head. "Dermot Hannigan."

"So you two are old friends?" She checked.

"Yeah, I've been mailing Dom but he hasn't seen me since…"

"Since that hot looking chick put you in cuffs and carted you away." Dom smiled. "I dunno if I should feel sorry for you or envy you."

"How have things been?" he changed the subject.

"Well I finished college and I'm enjoying my time working hard at not working hard."

"You mean you're trying not to get a job?" Heater smiled. "Good times."

"Yeah, won't last." Dom shrugged.

"Getting bored?" wondered Francis.

"Getting poor." Corrected Dom. "My parents have cut off my allowance, looks like I'm waiting at Starbucks from now on."

"There are worse jobs." Francis said absently. "Least you don't have maniacs trying to kill you."

"You haven't seen coffee shops on a Saturday afternoon." Heather mused. "So anyway, what's the plan today?"

"Ah, you'll love it." Dom grinned. "I got it all planned, just follow me."

An hour later

The air rumbled as the long sonorous drone of the vehicles engine passed by, a low growl of power and purpose declaring to the world that the owner of that voice was ready for a fight. It swooped low through the air pummelling Francis' chest cavity with its roar before elegantly looping up and over his head and away into the distance.

"The Spitfire was a legend of the Twentieth Century and among the finest examples of inline piton engined aircraft." The announcer spoke over the widely distributed tannoy system. "The example you are currently watching was heavily restored sixty years ago using traditional tools and materials. However certain parts of the airframe can be dated to 1940 making this at least in part an original first generation Spitfire."

The trio watched as the elliptically winged old aircraft passed over the crowd again, sweeping low over some airfield buildings befor inverting and passing again over the crowd. Dom had brought them to the Dublin airshow which took Francis a little by surprise, his friend had never expressed much interest in flying before but seemed to be rather enjoying the show. Heather also seemed genuinely captivated by the flypasts and various stalls so Francis decided to give it a chance and see what happened.

"The Spitfire is being flown by Lieutenant Commander David Sinclair currently on loan for this display from the EAS Nemesis." The crackly announcer continued. "The fighter is painted to represent one flown by Commander Sinclair's ancestor who actually fought in the Battle of Britain nearly three hundred years ago."

Once again the elderly warplane gracefully passed by the crowd, but this time it was joined by a dark grey dagger dropping from the sky. The new aircraft was about three times the size with four long engines buried in the roots of its delta wing. Its sharp angled nose and canard wings levelled beside the Second World War fighter and its twin tail fins angled it for a pass over the crowds.

"The new aircraft you can see is the Spitfire II developed over a century after it's namesake. A hypersonic stealth interceptor the Spitfire II saw extensive service with European forces during World War Three and the wars in the Middle East and African blocks."

The two warplanes passed by together before the older of the two broke off and headed in to land leaving the sky to it's successor. Francis watched the dark jet thundering past, finding it hard to believe such a dynamic looking aircraft was actually two centuries old.

"Come on." Dom gestured. "Lets have a look at some of these stalls and parked aircraft, I hear the big attraction is a new Starfury!"

Dom lead the way enthusiastically with Francis and Heather following and absorbing the surroundings, the general bustle of the crowds along with an odd mixture of smells, mostly fuel and sweet candy. There were plenty of families taking in the show along with a fair number of Earth Force officers and well dressed business men. As well as a display the show provided a sales pitch for many Earth based weapons companies, though with recent events there were very few League members here looking to buy weapons. Sad, Francis reflected, because they certainly needed them.

He spotted a few aliens, some Centauri looking at Riot control gear and an understandably large number of Markab asking about planetary defence systems. Earth was probably making some healthy business sales out of the Dilgar threat, and while central government might be reluctant to offer direct help private industry had no such hold ups.

The EIA seemed happy to help in secret supplying weapons to the Free Balosian fleet, but without a massive influx of Earth built ships to the surviving League worlds it wasn't going to mean a damn in the long term. The Dilgar would keep on attacking until they ran out of worlds to conquer.

"And when he looked upon his domain he wept, for there were no more worlds left to conquer."

Francis snapped his head to the side to see who had said that, almost an echo of his thoughts.

"Sorry, just a little carried away by the poetry." The small black clad man beside him smiled falsely. "I'm…"

"Alfred Bester, I remember." Francis said warily. "Psicop."

Heather and Dom were several yards away admiring the low and mean form of an Earth Force Thor Battle tank, within shouting distance but Francis felt no need to call to them. Instead he gave his time to this man. Bester made him feel uncomfortable, and from a few brief chats on the subject his mentors at the EIA felt the same.

"I felt it important to thank you for your part in our little adventure in New York and Geneva."

Francis glanced at the crowds around. "I don't think this is the place to discuss this."

"No need to go into details." Bester dismissed with a turn of his head. "Just one friend helping another."

"If you say so Mr Bester."

The Psicop maintained his genial disposition, seeming approachable and open but with something unnerving beneath that saccharine veneer, an impatient and frustrated ruthlessness that wanted to be released. Bester was a man who understood what he wanted, it had taken him a long time to get there, but he finally had purpose and hated the restraints mundane society placed on him and his kind to keep them separated from their true destiny.

"That's the beauty of our job, cooperation." Bester said grandly. "One hand washes the other, Quid Pro Quo Mr O'Leary."

"I hear the Psicorps has provided telepaths for certain interrogations, within legal limits."

"Legal limits." Bester shrugged. "Those limits are… flexible, shall we say."

"I doubt the courts would agree." Francis was surprised by the confidence in his voice.

"For the needs of my people I am willing to bend the rules." Bester stated. "And so are you."

"There is no need."

"Really?" Bester said with feigned surprise. "But you did shoot that man in the back?"

Francis froze and glared at the Telepath. "How did you know?"

"Our agencies are closer than you might guess." Bester replied.

"It was self defence."

"Shooting someone in the back as self defence? Very creative."

"You weren't there!" Francis growled lowly. "You don't…"

"You misunderstand, it isn't an accusation." Bester smiled warmly. "I understand, I've been there. I'm just pointing out that people like you and me are above the strict interpretation of the law."

"Like you and I?" Francis repeated.

"As you can see we have much in common." Bester stated. "Including a distrust of certain elements in the EIA."

"What distrust?" Francis scoffed.

"Well, your immediate superior was a traitor." Bester shrugged. "If only I had access to him earlier, I could have prevented that tragedy." He sighed. "And you would never have had to shoot that man in the back."

Francis looked down at his feet, feeling an overwhelming urge in the back of his mind to help the Psicop. But then no sooner than it arrived the feeling passed.

"I did what I had to."

Bester frowned. "But with access to senior EIA officials I can scan them and see if they are traitors."

"That would be illegal."

"We are above that."

He felt the need to help again, but Francis' mind quickly overruled it.

"I can't help you Mr Bester, you will have to request a place on the classified inquiry."

"You can get me in the building to scan for traitors, right up to the Director himself. You want to help me."

"No Mr Bester, that's not what I signed on for. I can't help you. Now if you excuse me my Leave time is wasting."

Bester was having a hard time restraining himself as the young man walked away. He had tried three times to plant a telepathic command and each time had failed, the agents mind simply ignoring and wiping away his influence. It was infuriating, Francis was a mundane with no telepathic ability yet he had resisted programming like a P5 or P6 at least.

He must have some sort of semi-telepathic ability, he couldn't project but he could apparently defend. That was new to Bester, a mystery to be solved. He began formulating a plan to get the young man into his departments clutches. He may represent a divergent path in human development, or simply a form of latent telepathy as yet uncatalogued by the Corps.

Either way he was playing in Besters schoolyard now.

As he walked away a strong arm suddenly grabbed his black collar and yanked him bodily behind a canvas tent, slamming him against a support pole. He felt a cold metal cylinder press against his head and the hiss of a PPG charging.

"Good Morning Al." The gravely voice of Agent Chapel sneered. "What a coincidence, I didn't know you liked airshows?"

"My business here is entirely…"

"Okay, two words." Chapel cut him off. "E-nough." He pressed the gun harder against Besters head. "We're going to have a little talk about jurisdiction, and remember, I can pull this trigger faster than you can think, so lets be civilized. Why are you here?"

Elsewhere Francis rejoined his friends, getting a careful look from Heather.

"I saw that little creep Bester, you alright?"

"Fine." Francis nodded. "He had an offer, I told him where he should stick it."

"Sweet." The youn Canadian woman smiled. "Your friend Dom tried to ask me on a date."

Francis tried to keep an even face. "He's a good lad."

"I said I was spoken for." She half smiled.

"Really? Since when?"

"I'm a secret agent! I have to keep some mystique."

"But you aren't seeing anyone?" Francis stumbled.

"Well, not yet."

"Because if my Mom hears you are single, she'll try set us up."

Heather laughed lightly. "That's sweet of her."

Francis laughed slightly more nervously. "Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"Guys, come on!" Dom interrupted enthusiastically. "Look, they got a Starfury!"

The trio started walking, following Dom as he trotted to the display, stopping only when an Earth Force Valkyrie gunship thundered overhead on its own little flypast.

The Starfury display was certainly popular with a sizeable crowd around it. The craft was a brand new factory grey Nova class with its distinctive four splayed wings with engines at the tip and large thrust vanes beside the afterburners. It had the traditional 'stand up' cockpit and a quartet of mean looking pulse cannons. It was not a pretty fighter, and when compared to the twenty first century jets parked alongside it looked terribly ungainly, but looks aside the Starfury was a damn effective vehicle.

"Shame they couldn't get it flying." Dom sighed.

"It's too heavy." Heather remarked. "It'd just fall out of the sky, not much of a problem in space but pretty annoying in an atmosphere."

"But in it's natural habitat it's a predator." Francis said. "Based on what I know it's the best fighter out there."

Dom paused. "How did you figure that out?"

"Long story."

"Your friend is right." A deep voice stated. "The New Starfury can beat any alien fighter we have data on, which is all of them."

"Cool." Dom turned to find the speaker. He was a man in formal Earth Alliance uniform with more badges and medals than could easily fit on his broad chest.

"Sergeant major Steve Jackson." The man introduced himself. "Army Rangers."

"I heard about Rangers." Dom said. "Like assault troops?"

"Rangers lead the way." The Sergeant said proudly. "Always have."

Sergeant Jackson was a big man with dark African skin and close cut black hair. He stood a few inches taller than either Francis or Dom and seemed quite capable of picking up and throwing the pair of them if he had a whim to do so. Francis guessed the man was in his mid to late forties but had no sign of weakness or dulled senses.

"Sergeant," Heather spoke up. "What's that medal there, at the front?"

"That?" Jackson pointed. "Well that's the Earth Force Silver Star, awarded for valour in the face of the enemy."

"Just about the highest award there is." Francis remembered. "Privilege to meet someone who earned one."

Jackson smiled. "You know your stuff, and seem a smart young man. You know Earth needs people like you, like all three of you."

Francis smiled. "I agree Sergeant, I already took a job with Earth."

"So that's what you've been doing?" Dom shot him a glance.

"Mostly office work." Francis said. "With a couple of field trips."

"I see." Jackson nodded. "Any job for the Alliance is worthwhile, but some need your skills more."

"Oh I think my current job demands plenty." Francis smiled. "I'm attached to the diplomatic corps."

"Diplomatic corps?" Jackson nodded along. "Analyst?"

"Something like that."

Jackson smiled. "I think we're on the same page son, worked with some of you 'Diplomatic analysts' before, when I got the Star."

Francis grinned. "I'm in a different department, but same company."

"Don't suppose you know a guy called Vic Chapel?"

Francis raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "Matter of fact yes."

"Tell him Jaws says hello." Jackson chuckled. "How about you miss?" he asked Heather. "You look good in that camo gear, want to try it for real?" He smiled. "Unless you two have the same job?"

"Yep." She nodded. "It's pretty fun."

"I bet, and you son?"

"No." Dom said. "I'm sort of in the market."

Sergeant 'Jaws' Jackson grinned widely. "Then let me show you some real toys and tell you a little about Earth Force. Ever seen an Anti Tank missile?"

He lead Dom away while Heather and Francis went back to looking at the grounded Starfury.

"That guy knew Chapel."

"He did." A familiar voice joined them.

Chapel came to join them. "Nice fighter."

"What are you doing here?" Francis wondered. "Something wrong?"

"Nah." Chapel shook his head. "Birds singing in the trees, fish swimming in the river, annoying Psicops throwing up in the toilets. Worlds exactly how it should be."

"Bester?"

"Yeah, he crossed a line." Chapel stated. "I think I'll keep reminding him how wrong he was for, y'know, three or four months."

"You heard all that?" Francis checked.

"Yeah, sort of my job." Chapel grinned in reply. "And I don't trust Psicops."

"So I see."

"I'll set up a few surprises for him in his office, street corners, that sort of thing." Chapel considered. "Little reminders of how we saved his short butt from the unwelcome visitor we had."

"So where do you know the Sergeant from?" Heather asked.

Chapel exhaled. "Well it was a while ago, we went through Ranger School together under Gunny Hurley. You lived through the Gunny you live through anything. I got cherry picked by the EIA by Durban same way I picked out Jenny, but Jaws and I kept in touch and when I had a job that needed some extra firepower I made sure his unit was assigned."

"So he knows a spook when he sees one." Francis figured.

"Yeah, Jaws is smarter than he looks." Chapel said. "So one mission were in Narn space and something goes wrong, there's a firefight and Jaws is wounded before we extract. Spinal injury."

The two younger agents in unison looked towards the Sergeant in the distance showing Dom a host of mean looking guns.

"They said he wouldn't walk again, but that wasn't in Jaws plan and he was up in less than year. Bad news was he couldn't rejoin the Rangers, so now he recruits fresh meat for the Force."

"Like my friend?" Francis was dubious.

"They call him Jaws because once he senses blood he never gives up. In battle and now with recruits." Chapel smiled. "Just wait, he'll have your friend in fatigues and saluting before the day is out."

"I don't think Dom's the military type." Francis frowned. "I don't see him getting up at Six in the morning and marching."

"People surprise you." Chapel said. "Earth Force can give him direction."

Francis shrugged slightly. "Guess its his choice."

"Don't worry about it." Chapel assured. "Jaws is a good judge of character, if he couldn't hack it he wouldn't be giving him the sales pitch."

Francis knew he was right, Dom would probably be a changed person after serving Earth. It worked for Francis and Heather, it could work for Dom too.

"I see a stall selling uniforms." Heather pointed. "I could use a new jacket."

Francis felt his stomach grumble. "And I could use lunch."

"You guys go on." Chapel nodded. "You won't see Bester again, not for a while anyway. I'll go say hi to Jaws and make sure your friend finds you."

"Thanks boss."

"Don't mention it." Chapel slapped his back. "Call me if you find trouble."

Chapel started moving back towards the crowds leaving Francis and Heather stood alone.

"Fancy dinner?" Francis asked.

"Thought you'd never ask."

"There's a burger truck over there."

"Good, I hate those stuck up restaurants."

Francis felt himself grinning. "Me too."

They headed off in perfect time, drawing a knowing look from Chapel.

"Time to start the marriage pool." He considered. "Fifty credits says they get hitched in three years."

"I'd say four." Karl Durban said between mouthfuls of ice cream. "I miss this undercover work."

"Well you still got it." Chapel smiled. The Director had been watching the situation for as long as Chapel had, clad in an unremarkable military uniform talking to school kids about Starfuries.

"So," Durban helped himself to more ice cream. "What did you do to Bester?"

Somewhere in League Space.

"Five," Toby spoke seriously. "Four, three, two and One."

From across the flight deck of the Space Race Jenny, Jors and Paul looked in his direction.

"Was something supposed to happen?" Paul asked

"We've been sat here exactly twenty four hours." Toby said. "Doing nothing."

"We are doing something." Paul corrected. "We're waiting."

"Well for how much longer?"

"My man says they'll be here."

"You're man on Bestine?" Toby's voice dripped sarcasm. "Because he's never been wrong before."

"The Drazi thing was… An oversight." Paul said.

"Drazi thing?" Jenny questioned. "Why is this the first I've heard of that?"

"It was before you signed on." Paul said. "Nothing special…"

"Just means if he shows up in Drazi space he'll be arrested on sight." Jors ruffled his hair. "Or shot, one or the other."

"Honest mistake." Paul said. "I was just trying to help, how was I supposed to know his scales would fall off?"

"His scales?" Jenny exclaimed. "Oh, we're going to have a long talk about this one!"

"Point is," Toby cut in. "I don't like hanging around in League Space, not after last time. Or the time before. Or the five times before that either."

It was a rational enough concern, on previous forays into League territory the Space Race and her crew had been shot at, hunted, skirted through several fleet battles and been nuked in the bargain. Paul had begun to wonder just how much bad luck one ship could have.

Their current assignment was a little more safe than earlier ones, a simple rendezvous mission with the Free Balosian Navy, a race who's planet had fallen to the Dilgar early in the war. They were a proud people and fleeing the Dilgar Navy couldn't have been easy for the Balosian fleet, but they had sworn to fight on until their world was free again and getting killed in a hopelessly one sided battle didn't help that.

Since then the Balosians had been raiding Dilgar supply lines and convoys in rapid hit and run attacks designed to weaken the fighting power of the Dilgar front line fleets. They had made some gains, and annoyed enough of the enemy to have a dozen cruisers assigned to hunting them down, but in the big picture Balos was far from being liberated.

The fleet had relied on friendly League powers to supply them, but with their closest friends now also until the Dilgar boot heel and more distant League worlds only willing to supply the Balosians for money their Free Navy was starting to wear down.

That was something Paul had been angry about.

He had mentioned to Jenny that the free Balosians needed help, and she in turn had passed the message to her superiors who took it to government. It went to President Hauser personally who authorized Director Durban to start a covert supply run to the Balosians giving them human made weapons and systems to keep them in the fight.

Paul's ship carried the first samples, some high energy capacitors, spare reactor shielding, computer cores and best of all a full medium yield plasma cannon for the Balosians to test with an eye to bringing in more. It was a good start, but it depended on whether the Balosians would accept Earths help, they weren't been offered the kind of help Paul thought Earth should provide, namely a battle fleet of six, but objectively the Balosians needed all the help they could get.

The latest news reports had mentioned the Dilgar were attacking targets in Ipsha space now, further expanding the war and the Dilgar sphere of influence. Nothing had stopped them and it seemed there were few left who could try.

"We might be waiting for no one." Toby said. "The Dilgar might have caught them."

"No, I wouldn't bet on it." Paul said. "Balosians are hunters, they set traps, they don't walk into them."

"Maybe, but Dilgar are smart, and if they…"

"Got something." Jenny read out. "Energy spike on sensors."

"Confirmed." Jors said. "Jump point."

Beyond the front of the ship the blue vortex silently opened depositing a dull shaded warship into normal space, a few colourful clan markings catching Paul's attention.

"That's her, Balosian flagship."

"Looks pretty battered." Jenny reported. "I'm seeing two gun mounts out of action."

"Guess we came at a good time." Jors remarked.

"Alright Toby, open a Channel, lets speak to them."

Toby flicked some switches and nodded to Paul.

"Balosian warship, this is the independent Earth Freighter Space Race, Paul Calendar commanding."

"Earth ship," A reply rasped on the speakers. "I am Commander Kanos, Balosian cruiser Seffensa, we received your message through our fuel merchant on Bestine."

Paul gave Toby a 'Told you so' look. "Glad to hear it, and good to see you again Commander."

"We have met?"

"At Brakir, you allowed the ships I was travelling with to escape."

There was a pause before the balosian gave a loud hissing laugh. "Yes, yes I remember you! The Human ships! You fought well against the Demons."

"Demons?" Toby whispered.

"Dilgar." Jenny answered.

"I owe you a debt." Paul said. "And with the help of my people I come to repay it, I bring the means for you to continue your fight."

"What means?"

"Supplies, fuel, spare parts and weapons." Paul said.

"How much?" Kanos asked.

"No money." Paul smiled. "We just ask you use them well in battle."

The Balosian laughed again in his scratchy voice. "These are good terms! You are welcome aboard, come see us."

"We'll be right over." Paul said. "Race out."

Paul took Jenny with him on the Races latest shuttle, a shiny new atmosphere capable craft used by Earth Force. It was rated with military grade engines and armour, plus a pair of pulse cannons similar to those mounted on Starfuries under recessed hatches incase they ran into trouble. It was a little harder to maintain than a civilian ship, but well worth it for the capabilities provided, especially given Paul's track record with trouble.

He left Jors in charge holding station while he landed the ship in the Balosian docking bay, surprised to feel gravity under his feet as they touched down.

"These are old Centauri ships." Jenny said. "The still have basic artificial gravity, Centauri superiority."

"Nice sales pitch." Paul admitted.

"Centauri do a lot of business selling old ships." Jenny explained. "This vessel will be decades old, they stripped it of advanced weapons and sensors then sold them off. Considering the League detest the Centauri you'd be surprised how many use old Centauri hulls."

They stepped off the shuttle and were met by two officers in the same brown hues as the ships hull, both had thick tails protruding from the uniforms.

"Welcome to the Seffensa, please come this way."

They were escorted through the corridors of the ship, noting areas sealed off from battle damage along the way.

"Looks like we arrived just in time." Paul said quietly. "This thing is falling apart."

"Amazing she's still fighting." Jenny agreed. "These guys are serious."

They stepped through a set of wedged open doors onto the command bridge, the smell of burned wires afflicting their senses and causing Paul's eyes to water slightly. A number of consoles were dark showing no signs of power or operation while one towards the front was totally burnt out.

"Greetings." Commander Kanos stood politely. "I would offer you drink, but I think human tastes are different to Balosians."

"We appreciate the thought." Paul said. "I've seen you fighting the Dilgar, how long has it been since this ship saw Dock time?"

"About Eighteen months." The officer said.

"Long time without leave or rest." Jenny observed.

"We cannot rest, not until our world is free of Demons."

"But at least you can take time to repair." Paul stated sincerely. "I'm here to provide you with anything you need to keep your ships and crews fighting. From food and water to anti ship cannons."

"This is welcome."

"And as I said earlier, you don't have to pay for them. It's enough to know you are hurting the Dilgar."

Kanos could sensed Paul was telling the truth and appreciated it, but this was politics and there was always more to an offer than what appeared.

"What does Earth gain?"

"We keep the Dilgar at bay." Jenny fielded the question. "Keep them away from our borders long enough to expand our defences."

"Will Earth fight them?"

"I don't know." Paul was sincere. "If they attack us we will, but I don't know if there is the will to fight them in League space."

"Our people are new to the galaxy." Jenny continued in earnest. "We've never tried to exert power beyond our borders, we don't know if we can and that uncertainty is holding us back."

"Our government can't send the military into a battle it can't win, not unless we are attacked first."

"Or not unless the public demand it." Jenny added. "If they knew what we know now about Dilgar atrocities I am sure they would demand Earth take action, but our leaders are keeping the truth secret."

"Because you cannot fight?" Kanos nodded, his forked tongue flickering out briefly.

"We just don't have the means to support a long war." The EIA agent said reluctantly. "Not yet anyway, we are building up forces and supplies but they are months away."

"But we can help you."

"With weapons?" The Commander tilted his head.

"Top of the line Plasma cannons and Delta series fighters." Jenny confirmed. "We can have them by the end of the week."

Paul knew it wasn't enough, it wasn't what the Balosians wanted or expected and he couldn't blame them. They wanted to liberate their world and even if the whole Free navy was refitted a few dozen Balosian cruisers couldn't hurt the vast Dilgar navy in a meaningful way.

They needed direct help, they needed intervention and nobody was willing to aid them. Not the Narn, or Centauri, or Earth, or most scandalously not even the League. Even now the League was divided, it was in tatters, broken and running before a flood of genocidal Dilgar Warmasters.

It seemed clear to Paul that this war was over and the Dilgar were just tying up loose ends, which included the Balosians, before setting up their new Empire. When that happened the galaxy would look very different. With three worlds the Dilgar had beaten the largest combined fleet in existence including races far more advanced than they were. With the whole resources of the League behind them he shuddered to imagine what they could do.

"We accept." Kanos brought him back to reality.

"You'll take outr help?"

"Of course!" The Balosian seemed to laugh. "You risk much by even talking with us, we knew little of Earth before the war, but now we see you are against the Demons and will one day fight them."

"I wouldn't hold out hope that Earth can rescue you."

"My world will be free one day." Kanos said. "And the day grows nearer with every breath we take. "I shall meet you again, Yes?"

"Yes." Paul and Jenny said in unison.

"Thank you." Kanos bowed slightly. "Earth and Balos together."

"I hope so." Jenny said. "And I hope you can free your world."

"We will." Kanos said with utter certainty. "It is inevitable, and we hope you join us."

Paul grinned widely. "I'll do what I can to make that happen. I promise."

Narn border world

The Abbai cruiser Syontar arrived through the gate perfectly on time to the unwelcoming sight of a pair of Narn cruisers with their weapons tracking the arriving ship.

"Traditional friendly welcome." Captain Cashik remarked. The Abbai and Narn weren't specifically enemies, but they were far from friends too.

"They haven't fired on us." Ambassador Itala watched the tactical plot as the ship moved toward the planet. "And if they haven't by now then they don't intend to at all. Proceed as normal and ignore those ships."

"Yes Ma'am." Cashik accepted. "Helm, steady as you go, make for the station and prepare the diplomatic shuttle."

"I'll go over with my aide and that is all." Itala stated.

"Madame Ambassador I strongly advise a security detail, even if it's just…"

"I appreciate your concern Captain, but we must appear completely unassuming to the Narn, which means no weapons or overt security. Let them thing they can dominate us."

"I'm not sure I like giving them the superior negotiating position."

"They already have it." Itala said flatly. "Debating the position gains us nothing, we need their help, they are the only ones who can fight the Dilgar with a chance of winning."

During the journey there had been a long debate as to who exactly could help the Abbai. Itala was adamant the Narn had to be approached first and as soon as possible while Cashik was at best lukewarm on the idea. The Abbai and narn hadn't actually fought each other beside some minor skirmishes, but the Abbai were instrumental in blocking Narn political and economic influence in the League driving the Regime out of many potentially lucrative markets.

Understandably the Narns were furious but completely unable to act. They were surrounded by the Centauri and League powers on virtually all sides making expansion impossible. It had encouraged the Narn to expand rimward where they collided into the Earth Alliance and suffered a humiliating defeat when they tried annexing Earth territory.

Over a decade later many of the Kha'ri blamed the League for that embarrassment and would periodically probe League worlds, particularly the mineral rich Tirrith system. Of course that system was now firmly under Dilgar control and massively fortified.

Cashik had been leaning more towards the Centauri for help, reasoning that they had less motive for conquest than the Narn and that the new Emperor Turhan seemed more reconciliatory than his predecessors. The Centauri certainly had the military might to assist the League and while most of the Centauri navy used formulaic tactics sheer numbers should be enough to guarantee victory in any battle with the Dilgar.

The League however had been formed for the express purpose of opposing the centauri, and indeed many of its members were former slave races vehemently opposed to any contact wit the Republic. While everyone on the ship accepted that asking the Centauri for help was intolerable, it was preferable to genocide under Deathwalker and they would do it if required.

The Abbai had never fallen to the Centauri having defended themselves robustly during one or two major Centauri assaults in the past and thereby earning a degree of enmity from the once mighty super power. But Cashik hoped that Emperor Turhan might want to put that history behind them, and if the Centauri helped the League it would surely herald a bright new future for both groups.

But Itala knew it was a long shot, more a flight of hope than reality. The Centauri had very little to gain from helping the League beside some diplomatic credibility, and even if Turhan wanted to build bridges the Centaurum would likely overrule him. The traditional method of overruling an Emperor being a poisoned blade in the night. The Centauri couldn't care less about the League, and while Itala could try and convince them an expanded Dilgar Imperium would be a very real threat to the Centauri simple arrogance would keep them behind their borders.

But the Narn were another story. The Centauri were content in their borders but the Narn were not, they wanted something from the League and that gave Itala a bargaining position. Traditionally the Narn had sought worlds and trade, there was no reason to believe they would want anything less now especially given the crisis consuming Itala's people.

It would be a hard bargain and there was no doubt they would lose some strategic worlds, but looking at the alternative Itala was willing to make that deal.

The meeting was set to take place on a space station, a slowly rotating facility hastily assembled from decommissioned Narn cruisers. Cashik had to admire the simple brilliance of the idea, five ships were flown in, linked together at the bow and slowly set to spin creating gravity. Instant starbase. Naturally it was nothing compared to an Abbai or Hyach orbital fortress but it nicely secured a target system within a day or two and could be upgraded over time, making it hard to shift.

"Maintain your position Captain, I shall report how the meeting goes."

Itala and her aide Kalika swiftly made their way to the shuttle and departed for the station, their diplomatic vessel given a close escort by Narn interceptors.

"More intimidation." The Ambassador observed. "This is predictable."

"They are savouring the moment." Kalika stated. "They enjoy us coming to them after turning them away from the League."

"Correct." Itala displayed a hint of pride at her new protégé. "The Narn have a simple view on other races, either they can be used or must be avoided. Right now we can be used."

"They are an amoral people."

"Perhaps, but the Centauri made them that way, as they have done with many League worlds. Understand the Narn and you can make them see things differently. They have an inferiority complex, they must expand their territory and fleet even at the cost of their quality of life. A vindictive race, but with honour buried somewhere deep down. Follow my lead Kalika, much depends on who we will be negotiating with."

G'Kar was not a happy Narn. It was a fact that in this day and age there weren't a whole lot of happy Narns, especially after the debacle at Gorash, but he in particular was in a thunderous temper.

Unlike some of his peers G'Kar had not taken part in the little witch hunt that followed the Gorash debacle preferring to stay out of internal rivalries. Blame was apportioned, resignations taken and some of G'Kars peers found themselves promoted to vill vanancies based purely on which side of the debate they came down on. No doubt if the Gorash situation had been a victory a whole new set of people would have been hounded out of government.

It did however mean that G'Kar was stuck on the fifth circle of the Kha'ri in a sort of political wilderness, and his unwillingness to engage in the witch hunt left him isolated away from the new powers in the Kha'ri. While his position was not seen as threatening it was also discounted as anything important meaning G'Kar was now first in line to get the jobs nobody else wanted.

Like this one.

He stood as the doors to the plain room opened. As was tradition the table dominating the room was made of Narn sand stone with its usual red hue, while the chairs were altogether more pleasant and well padded. Two Abbai females entered, one middle aged and quite large while the other was much younger and smaller. Based on the elaborate pinks and purples of her robe he identified which one was the Ambassador and smiled in greeting.

"Ambassador Itala, welcome to Narn space."

"I take it you are G'Kar?"

"Very correct, representative of the Fifth Circle of the Kha'ri."

"Fifth Circle?" Itala sat down. "I thought senior diplomats came from the Third Circle?"

G'Kar fought hard to keep his smile. "Yes, usually, but they were otherwise engaged."

"Otherwise engaged?" He could sense the acid in Itala's voice. "This wasn't important enough for them?"

"Matters of state." G'Kar began to see why he had been given this job.

"I am the senior representative of the League, and they send a junior politician to deal with this negotiation."

G'Kar stood. "Frankly I'm surprised they even bothered to send me, the League doesn't count for much anymore."

He began packing his papers.

"Representative G'Kar." Itala spoke calmly and contritely. "Forgive my outburst, as may appreciate this is a difficult time for my people and myself."

"Very well." G'Kar took his seat again. "Well, where shall we begin?"

Itala noted that G'Kar probably had no intention of leaving, but she played along. He was new at this but seemed skilled in the more dramatic aspects of inter planetary negotiations. She was fuming they had sent him and not a senior diplomatic team, but it could simply be another ploy of the Narn Regime to make her feel small and unimportant and therefore improve their bargaining position. It was irritating, but not unexpected.

"I am here to make a simple request." She began. "As you know the League is at war with the Dilgar."

"A war you are losing spectacularly."

"Quite." Itala did not take the bait. "We still have a great deal of territory and resources left, I am confident that now the initial Dilgar threat is known we can counter attack…"

"Really?" G'Kar retorted. "And what is the weather like in your world? I hope it is pleasant."

"As we speak plans are been made for new attacks against the Dilgar."

"Planning is not doing Ambassador." G'Kar said. "The League is still disjointed and divided, if anything the Dilgar have made your divisions worse as each world hordes ships for its own protection."

"We have the forces." Itala continued. "But we need more, we need something for the League to unite behind. We need a victory against the Dilgar."

G'Kar steepled his fingers on the table. "And is this where the Narn come in?"

"We need your help." Itala said. "Not to fight this war for us, but to give us some breathing room to gather our forces."

"You want the Narn fleet to fight the Dilgar for you?"

"For a while, yes."

"Quite a risky proposition, I trust it will be worth our while?"

"That is what I am here to negotiate." Itala stated flatly.

G'Kar leaned forward. "We have watched this war closely, the Dilgar are a formidable enemy. If we fight them it will cost us dearly."

"You will have all the League fighting with you."

"I am not tremendously reassured." G'Kar answered deadpan. "Based on your track record I'd rather fight with the House Refa ships at my back. They'll likely stab me when I'm not looking but at least they have to turn up to do it!"

"Representative G'Kar, this isn't helping."

"Then why don't we all move into the real world?" he suggested.

"Very well." Itala took a breath. "Join us in this war and we will honour Narn claims to territory currently in dispute and lift all restrictions on Narn trade within the League."

"Tempting." G'Kar admitted. "But you know how the Dilgar wage war, it will be a bloody fight for us. Worth more than three worlds."

"We will not compromise on Sovereign worlds." Itala said. "We will not give you slaves, however colony worlds are commodities we can trade."

"Territory for lives?"

"The oldest trade there is." Itala remarked.

"But do you speak for the whole League?"

"They will honour any treaty we make or be expelled."

"A harsh line for the pacifist Abbai."

"These are harsh times."

"And when our fleets are weakened by the Dilgar you guarantee we will have the tools to rebuild?"

"You will have resources, worlds and Trade." Itala said. "Do with them as you will."

"And Dilgar territory?"

"All yours."

"The Dilgar themselves?"

"Blockaded, and stripped of all ships and weapons."

"Why not simply wiped out."

"The Abbai would oppose such an act." Itala said. "But realistically that is a Narn decision."

"It is an interesting offer, I will make my report and…" A chime interrupted him, it was a signal on the wall panel. "Excuse me."

He stood and took the message.

"I have a communiqué from my government regarding this meeting, unusually efficient timing." He started for the door. "I will relay your offer and give you an immediate answer."

He quickly vanished leaving the Abbai delegates alone.

"That was bracing." Kalika whispered.

"Better than expected." Itala replied. "He listened and seemed interested in our offer."

"Do you think they can win?"

"The Narn are very like the Dilgar, an aggressive and passionate people." Itala said. "They stand a good chance, but all we need is space to reassemble our fleets and create a strategy. Then we can wage this war with the Narn, and the two fleets combined should be sufficient."

"I am sure it will." Kalika nodded. "Where do we strike first?"

"That is for the Military to decide." Itala said.

The door retracted with a sudden hiss allowing G'Kar back in much earlier than expected. He walked quickly and purposefully to the table and began packing his papers and data crystals away.

"That was surprisingly fast." Itala kept her expression neutral, knowing that her hopes were draining away.

"My government had made a decision without informing me." G'Kar said brusquely. "Apparently it is unthinkable that the man sent to negotiate wouldn't know that they had already decided soon after your request arrived."

"I see." Itala remained neutral. "And the word?"

"The word is no." G'Kar paused. "I apologise for this fiasco, I was played as much for a fool as you were. Presumably somebody thought this was funny!"

"So there will be no Narn aid?"

"No, none at all." G'Kar said. "The Kha'ri is not getting involved in this regional conflict."

"It is not regional, it is affecting all known worlds."

"But apparently not us." G'Kar was clearly agitated and annoyed, at his Government and his own naivety in equal measure. "I apologise for wasting your time."

"That's it?" Kalika finally spoke up. "An apology for keeping us?"

"Kalika." Itala said calmly but clearly, that one word carrying both warning and command to stop.

"The Kha'ri is resolute." G'Kar said contritely "I'm afraid I am powerless to intervene."

"Can't you try something?" Itala pleaded. "Do you have any influence?"

"You know I ask myself that same question everyday." G'Kar allowed a morbid laugh with no joy in it. "And the answer is always a resounding No. This time next year the only influence I will have is asking the Representatives to raise their feet as I sweep the floor around them!"

"I am sorry to hear that." A dejected Itala replied. "For a great many reasons."

G'Kar nodded. "Believe it or not I do have sympathy for your position, I know the burden of growing up and living beneath the boot of an oppressor."

"The Dilgar do not intend to enslave or exploit us." Itala corrected. "They mean to kill us, to exterminate every single one of us. For their many flaws at least the Centauri did not institute a policy of Genocide against the Narn."

"If they had the price they paid would have been terrible." G'Kar said darkly. "The Centauri would…"

"Forgive me Representative if that was taken as insulting, it was not meant to be and as you know the Abbai are no friends of the Centauri." Itala held up her hand. "But the past is gone, I serve the future, one which is looking bleak without Narn help."

"I am sorry." G'Kar replied. "The Narn will not oppose the Dilgar."

Itala dropped her head and hid her eyes, working hard to hold back her despair and violent disappointment at the turn of events. She balanced herself again, took a breath and returned G'Kars sympathetic gaze. He was not to blame, he was just the unwitting messenger.

"Then I believe this discussion is over." She stood, followed by Kalika. "If the Narn change their mind we will be willing to continue negotiations."

"I shall inform the Kha'ri." G'Kar said flatly, he too seemed unsatisfied. "The station commander has offered to refuel your ship at no cost, a gesture of goodwill from the military.

Itala could barely prevent herself laughing at the absurdity of it, what was fuel compared to the fate of her people. "We graciously accept."

"There is one more thing." G'Kar added. "The Kha'ri said you were not the first league ship to ask for help, an associate of mine has been negotiating with a Hyach vessel in the next system, and apparently we have received a request for a meeting with a Brakiri ship."

"Will you give them the same answer?"

He nodded. "That is policy. But if you wanted to join with these ships I am sure passage could be arranged."

Itala paused, her mind had been so frantic she hadn't considered that. "I think that would be wise."

"Strength in numbers." G'Kar offered. "Clearance has already been granted."

"Then we should go. If nothing else I am pleased to have met you. At least not all Narn conform to stereotype."

G'Kar bowed. "Life is nothing without surprises. I wish you luck, and that you may have a pleasant surprise of your own."

Itala returned the bow. "We will need it."

The two Abbai left the room and began the journey back to their ship.

"I can't believe it." Kalika was shivering in nervous panic. "Why didn't they help? What are we going to do?"

"They are in league with the Dilgar." Itala said. "There's no evidence for it, but it is obvious. For all of this man G'Kar's sincerity his superiors are not so thoughtful, they work on the simple principle of risk versus gain. They would not pass up free territory unless they had a better deal on the table."

Kalika's expression was frozen. "The Dilgar made the same deal?"

"That would be my guess." The Ambassador confirmed. "When the war is over they will get League worlds in return for remaining neutral."

"The Dilgar will neve rhonour that!"

"Of course not, but the Narns believe it, they want to believe it. They are so blinded by the Centauri and their need for blood they can't see the growing threat on their doorstep."

"Can we convince them?"

"No, I doubt it." Itala shook her head. "People like G'Kar would listen, but it seems he is on the outside. I'm afraid the Narn will not help."

"So what now?"

"We meet the other ships and proceed together." Itala said. "We will go to each League world still free and try to rally a united defence."

"It is a travesty that they have still not united." Kalika grimaced. "Unthinkable, does the League mean nothing?"

"Not as much as we all hoped." Itala said sadly. "But there are still powers in the galaxy that can help, the Vree, the Yolu, the Markab, maybe others we have not considered. We will visit each of them and make our case."

"What if they won't help?"

"Then I will return home and meet my end there." Itala said with total conviction. "And pray fate is kind to us in those last moments."

"We stand alone." Kalika felt incredibly detached, like she had no part in this and was no more than an observer studying with peaked curiousity.

"Not yet." Itala replied fiercely drawing some fire of conviction from inside. "The Narn will not help, but this is not over, not yet, we have a lot of work and little time."

Disappointed but unbroken, the Abbai returned to their ship and proceeded with their mission, not knowing the military aid they sought was already on the move in Drazi space about to hammer the Dilgar into defeat.

The Galaxy had one more day of uneasy peace before the Drazi returned to the scene with a roar.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 41

48

Mokafa System

Drazi Space

3rd Dilgar Strike fleet.

"This is madness!" Warmaster Dar'sen spat. "Are these orders confirmed?"

"Yes sir." Captain Ca'ra confirmed nervously, he knew Dar'sen was a fair officer and not in the habit of killing messengers, but it was prudent not to make too many assumptions when living or dying was concerned.

The Warmaster continued to shake his head angrily.

"This is a Strike fleet specially trained for fleet combat, to guard a planet is at the least a waste of resources. We have actual Guard fleets for that!"

"Yes sir."

"But worse than that, we do actually have a job to do! Seek and destroy!"

"Yes sir."

"Will you stop agreeing mindlessly with me?" Dar'sen snapped. The senior officer took a few calming breaths with absolutely failed to help subdue his temper before turning again on his aide.

"Alright, lets think for a moment." He paused. "If I was a Drazi, what would I do?"

Of each of the various Warmasters Dar'sen was probably the individual best suited to this post. He had been fighting Drazi for as long as he had been wearing the uniform of the Imperium, first as a mercenary in the employ of the Centauri noble houses on the Drazi border and then later as part of the Dilgar Navy in its official form.

His knowledge of this area of space and his familiarity with Drazi tactics and weapons was unsurpassed in the Imperium, and to his credit he did not gloat on this fact or let it feed atrrogance. He remained grounded in reality and understood his merits and limits. That more than anything else had secured him the support of the Supreme Warmaster. He had seen war from many different levels as he progressed through the ranks the old fashioned way, through simple merit.

When Gar'shan had ascended to power he instituted massive reforms of the Imperiums economy, industry and military. At the time nobody knew why but supported the endeavor as a way of restoring some pride to the Dilgar and creating the climate for expansion. It was accompanied by the biggest propaganda effort to date, and the already ultra nationalist and Xenophobic Dilgar became yet more extreme. Perfect warriors for the cause.

With the new Dilgar fleet taking shape Gar'shan needed new leaders to command the elite elements, and Dar'sen was an obvious candidate. A lot of the Warmasters held their place because of the political or organisational skills they brought, it was incredibly rare to have a Warmaster who actually was a superb field officer and had some other governmental skill. Usually the council was a mixture of politicians and warriors. Dar'sen fell into the warrior category as opposed to say Len'char who was strictly a political animal. Gar'shan was one of those rare creatures who was a master of both aspects of war, as was his protégé Jha'dur.

Dar'sen wasn't like his peers, he was a staunch Dilgar soldier but he did not adhere to the traditional tactics of the time simply because that's how Dilgar are 'meant' to fight. He was unpredictable and put great stock in using initiative, both his own and those of his subordinates.

He accepted criticism and was even known to alter his battle plans based on suggestions from junior officers, something an old fashioned Warmaster would never do. His command had the fewest summary executions for insubordination and the highest kill ratio in the Navy. His model of how to organize a fighting force became Gar'shans model for the three Primary Strike fleets. There was even comment that Jha'dur had based her fleet tactics on ideas pioneered by Dar'sen.

That flexibility ensured he received one of the coveted Strike Fleets and his experience with the Drazi put him on that front. He wasn't in charge of the whole frontline unfortunately, political considerations had forced Gar'shan to appoint a different more senior Warmaster of the traditional cut, but it was an open secret that Gar'shan relied on Dar'sen to keep the front stable and keep the Drazi off balance. That trust was been jeopardized right now, and Dar'sen was not going to stand for it.

"The Drazi will attack." Ca'ra stated. "They are aggressive, they will always attack if given the opportunity."

"But where?"

"Latig." Ca'ra said confidently. "It is the logical target, a useful forward base and lightly defended."

"You're thinking to small." Dar'sen grinned. "It is a forward base to strike Fendamir, but by doing so they tip their hand. Remember they have surprise, or at least think they do."

"So you think they'll go straight for Fendamir?"

"Fendamir is the head, take it and Latig will wither and easily fall. So would any forces we send here to Mokafa."

"With our forward base gone we'd be on the defensive." Ca'ra said.

"Our supply base at Fendamir has almost the entire fronts supplies, if we lose that we'll have no access to fuel, spares or repair facilities this side of Omelos. We'd have to bring supplies from the Rimward front, that'll take a few days at best."

"And if we lose Fendamir they can follow us and attack Tithalis."

"And if they take Tithalis," Dar'sen considered sombrely. "Next jump is Omelos."

Captain Ca'ra visibly paled. "Can they do that?"

"Depends how many ships they have and whether their leader has enforced discipline." Dar'sen thought through the options mechanically setting aside any emotional reaction at the danger his homeworld could be in. "We have a lot of ships here, but most are green and inexperienced."

"If fate is with the Drazi, we could be facing a major disaster."

"Fate has nothing to do with it." Dar'sen grunted. "Fate and destiny are excuses people use to mask failure. Victory or defeat is decided by skill."

"Yes sir."

"They are going for Fendamir, every instinct I have tells me they are."

"Can you be sure sir?"

"Yes Captain, because it's the absolute worst thing that could happen, therefore it will."

"Destiny sir?"

Dar'sen croaked out a laugh. "Just logic, the Drazi want to hurt us bad, that's the place we can't afford to lose. They'll attack Fendamir, hell I bet they're halfway there already."

The older Warmaster looked at the strategic map for a moment, the whole bridge waiting quietly for something to happen. They all trusted Dar'sen completely and would follow him without question.

"Who signed those orders?"

Ca'ra checked. "The War council sir."

"I mean specifically."

"Warmaster Len'char."

Dar'sens lips widened. "Len'char. Not the Supreme Warmaster?"

"No sir."

"Of course not, there is no way Gar'shan would be this short sighted." He held out his hand and gestured for Ca'ra to hand over the paper.

"I am changing our orders on my authority as Warmaster." He tore the paper the orders were printed on into quarters, then handed them back to Ca'ra. "Burn those would you?"

"Yes sir." Ca'ra smiled.

"Comms, don't acknowledge those orders, we never received them, they do not exist."

"Understood Warmaster."

"Signal First and Second Line fleets, tell them to set Battle stations and expect hostiles at any moment."

The officer rapidly set to work, the bridge beginning to bustle with the sounds of activity.

"Helm," Dar'sen smiled. "March to the sound of the guns."

"Sir?"

"Fendamir Commander. Set course and power up jump engines. Captain, copy those orders to the rest of the fleet, we're going to correct Len'char's little oversight."

"At once Warmaster."

"Heaven save us from politicians who've read a few books about war." Dar'sen grimaced. "Engage jump engines, best possible speed."

Fendamir System

Contested space.

Operation Retributive Strike.

The Dilgar Line fleets had no idea what was coming their way. Drazi jamming had intensified over the last two days meaning Warmaster Dar'sens warning never came through, nor did Len'chars orders to gather their strength and prepare for a drive on Mokafa.

For all Len'chars meddling if those orders had gone through he would actually have helped the fleets by causing them to gather their strength together in one place. As it was the Fendamir garrison was still deployed for patrol and counter insurgency, small groups of about a dozen ships scattered across the system hunting for Drazi blockade runners, only at the main supply depot was there any significant presence.

The atmosphere was relaxed, crew members were in the process of changing shifts, the ships galleys were preparing the unappetizing but still welcome nutrient packs for the crews coming off duty while Commanders updated the logs and duty rosters.

Fighters coasted lazily through nothingness skirting the extensive asteroid fields with a few glances to their sensor scans. Way stations held a relative orbit providing stop off points for ships on long patrols with basic crew facilities and fuel ports. They even had entertainment centres, a rare commodity in the Imperium fleet.

On Fendamir itself the scene was similar with the army reflecting the gratefully relaxed state of their Naval cousins. The occasional armoured vehicle rumbled past the frequent infantry patrols that scoured the countryside looking for Drazi troops. The Drazi here however were wise and did not rush into battle, often by the time troops arrived at an area pinpointed by satellite reconnaissance the Drazi were long gone.

Or it was an ambush.

But today again things were looking better with no sightings of Drazi troops, they had all gone to ground in the caves and catacombs they still infested denying the Dilgar full ownership of this world. It was so much of a problem the Dilgar had put their supply base on a nearby moon rather than the planet itself. It was far harder to maintain but at least it was safe from sabotage.

Most troops were sequested away in their barracks and heavily defended compounds waiting for fresh orders to commence a sweep or storm a suspected cave complex. It was bloody work but it was turning them into truly lethal soldiers more than equal to anything the League could throw at them, at least so far. Service on the Drazi front was considered a mark of honour among the various infantry units and campaign badges were proudly worn on the sleeves of veterans.

The Naval units were not so enthusiastic about their posting. They looked enviously at the Blitzkrieg tearing rimward and sought to share in that glory. The victories there had seemed so effortless, almost as if all the Dilgar had to do was show up to battle in order to win and it seemed deeply unfair to be excluded.

Operations had been slow for months, the crews were complacent, absent minded and concerned with issues other than their jobs. Most ships had never engaged their guns in anger, many combat systems still had a protective covering of grease and polymers having never even been powered up. Dilgar War command had these ships listed as a low priority with only the local Strike fleet seeing much in the way of attention. It was considered an adequate force to hold the Drazi at bay, the support fleets were simply a pool for new crews to learn drill.

But even in such an unready state they were still Dilgar. Each was the product of a naval academy, each was determined to perform as expected by his peers, each was as confident in their inate abilities as warriors as another being in the galaxy. A lifetime of indoctrination had made them what they were, and whatever their actual skill level their belief in themselves and the purity of their cause was all but unmatched.

They had not seen real battle but they would welcome it, they knew theory which was more than many of their opponents and had been well trained in the art and abstract principles of warfare. From the simplest technician to ship commanders each of them knew their place and what they were expected to do.

They were inexperienced, they were green, but they were sure of themselves and confident in their greatness. They were, after all, the Master Race.

War Leader Strokath knew this, unlike many of his peers he refused to underestimate the Dilgar and that had kept him alive. He had drummed that into his officers over and over again, showed them it on raids and strike missions, forced them to sit still and watch data records of earlier battles. He had done all he could to break their assumptions about the inferiority of their enemies, he had made them respect the Dilgar.

Four separate Drazi fleets were converging on this system, with Stro'kaths leading the way. The other fleets were less disciplined and prepared than his own, but he had still pushed the respective commanders into a position of caution. The reckless abandon the Drazi fell to in the first days of the war was by now long dead, much like the warriors who practiced such simplistic warfare, and the new Drazi fleet was a very different animal.

It had it's weaknesses, but Stro'kath had planned this campaign to try and hide those weaknesses and exploit only the strengths of his people, speed, aggression and pure weight of numbers. In terms of crew and overall tonnage the Dilgar were outnumbered two to one. In terms of actual numbers of ships it was about five or six to one.

He flicked a switch on his armchair control panel, pushing against the restraints. The Drazi were an old spacefaring race with a healthy level of technology similar to the Centauri. If they had a desire to they could build very large and very powerful warships fitted out with innovative power and propulsion systems along with full artificial gravity.

But that just wasn't how the Drazi fought. They were pack hunters, a throwback to their most primordial instincts where the ancient Drazi had hunted together to bring down the massive and vicious reptillian prey of their stone age. Drazi ships were small, agile, well armed on the forward arc and remarkably fast and easy to build.

Like the Dilgar the Drazi excluded everything that was unnecesary on their ships, the accomodation was spartan at best, food supplies were the simplest and most sawdust like the navy could buy and artificial gravity, though available, was rarely fitted to warships. Not that the crews ever complained.

Unfortunately this did make Drazi ships easy to kill, a well commanded Dilgar Dreadnought could kill a dozen Drazi Sunhawks in minutes. Their armour was weak and redundant systems something of an unknown concept. The crews were too small to allow effective in battle repairs and a handfull of solid hits would destroy the biggest Drazi ship, and considering how well armed even small Dilgar ships were there was no surprise Drazi casualties had been so high.

"Warleader Stro'kath to all ships." He announced in a rough voice, the kind of tone that had opened scores of battles in space and on land. Stro'kath had served both Army and Navy and he had served well especially in battle against the Narn and Centauri. High command had been wary of him and he had to overcome challenges to make this operation a reality, but to the average Drazi warrior Stro'kath was a living legend and an example to try and live up to.

"We go now into battle with the Dilgar fleet, our most difficult and fanatical enemies. They have taken our territory and we shall reclaim it. They have killed many warriors and we shall honour them. They have decleared war on the Drazi and we will make them regret it.

"Many of you have tasted combat, and many of you will see battle for the first time today. Remember you are Drazi, it is your bloodright to be great warriors. Remember to think before fighting, choose your targets well and obey orders immediately. There is honour in single combat, but no honour in disobeying orders and costing us all victory for personal vanity.

"Follow your orders, look to the enemy and have no fear. Droshalla is with us, and the path to Omelos will be lit by the burning ships of our enemy. We go to battle, we go to wrath, we go to exact retribution. Activate your jump engines and proceed with the plan."

He ended the message and twisted his head to regard his helm officer. "Position?"

"Ready sir, Jump engines active."

"Then proceed." Stro'kath ordered, the vigour of battle banishing the weariness of age. "Full sensor sweep of the sytem when we arrive, I want accurate tactical plots at all times."

"Understood."

"Strength will give us victory, but only if we can see where to apply it." Stro'kath remarked, it was a principle his people had always seemed to lack. Their contentious nature made acting in unison difficult even in the most difficult of times. The fact Stro'kath had welded these ships and fleets together under his undisputed leadership was an incredible and virtually unmatched achievement.

"Vortex forming." The helm officer reported. "Entering normal space."

"Droshalla's light guide us." Stro'kath whispered before raising his voice in command again. "Deploy for battle, await my word before release. Our victory begins now!"

"Battlemaster?" A wary voice spoke up from a side station.

"Yes technician?" Battlemaster Yeg'dra answered absenty, he was busily reading a report from ground command about the recent successes achieved during search and destroy missions. The Battlemaster did not especially believe the report should have the title of 'success' based on the scant enemy fatality rates.

"I'm reading energy disturbances close by."

"Are we finally getting past the jamming?"

"No sir, this seems to be something else." He was paging through a notebook. "Attempting to match energy signatures to records.

A veteran sensor officer would have spotted the true nature of the readings instantly, but it took the newly posted officer a few seconds to find it. Unsurprisingly it was the first entry in the sensor station guide.

"Jump points!"

"The Strike fleet isn't due back for a week, it must be a Drazi raid." Yeg'dra immediately tossed aside the report, eager to see some action. "Prepare battlestations, I want two Pentacans formed on our flanks ready to engage."

"Sir," the technician paused as he gathered the data. "Sir, we might need more ships."

"Why, how big a raid is this?"

The sensor officer transferred data to the main screen showing a tactical map for the system. It was quickly filling with a mass f Drazi contacts.

Yeg'dra took a long breath, this was no raid, it was an all out assault.

"Recall every ship! Gather the fleet, we must mass our force!"

"Our ships are scattered across the system!"

"So get them here!" The Battlemaster snarled. "And try get a scout ship past the jamming to warn the strike fleet and War command!"

He fastened his seat belt as the battle alarms began to blare bringing the ship to readiness. This was not how he expected to spend his day.

The Drazi fleet was gathered into two groups, a loose front line and a more solid second wave where Stro'kath and his best disciplined ships were deployed. They had arrived near the under valued outer planets where there was no opposition and began a steady advance inward while the sensor ships gathered data.

"We have two full Dilgar fleets." The Stormhawk sensor officer stated. "They are still in patrol formation."

Stro'kath grinned widely, the surprise was complete.

"They are spread out and isolated in small groups, perfect." He once agin activated fleetwide communications. "First wave, begin assault. Target and destroy any ships you discover. Second wave proceed towards Fendamir III."

No sooner had he said it then the first wave broke up and sprinted away like hunting dogs taken off the leash. They were eager for battle, the pent up anticipation of months worth of waiting and planning now finally released. They were hunters and the Dilgar were prey, dangerous prey, but prey none the less. It was their natural element and the Drazi savoured it.

"We will hold our course." Stro'kath ordered his personal forces, about half the total Drazi strength. "The Dilgar are trying to concentrate around their base, we will meet them in open battle."

"Very good sir."

"Send fighters and scouts forward, look for ambush." The War leader ordered. "We advance with caution, it does not serve glory to die to a minefield."

The system was separated with a natural barrier, a remarkably dense asteroid field separating ineer and outer worlds from each other. Thanks to the proximity of a truly vast gas giant the Drazi fleet would be passing through a particularly dense section of the field which had been in Stro'kaths original plan as an asct of caution. The rocks would shield the Drazi fleet from long range fire and their agility would give them an advantage in close combat should the Dilgar fleet wish to come in after them.

Ultimately though the precaution wasn't needed, but Stro'kath was a believer in having options and not needing them rather than needing options and having none.

The first scattered elements of Dilgar resistance emerged from the Asteroid field and cruised towards the huge sea of steel grey Drazi ships. They were ridiculously outnumbered and Stro'kath couldn't decide whether it was blind arrogance or great bravery which pushed the Dilgar ships forward, in any case the result would be the same.

The leading edge of both forces were made up of fighters, and it was they who opened the battle. Nimble Dilgar Thoruns clashed with the heavier Drazi Serpeants, both sides spasming missiles and energy fire at each other as they passed by at point blank range.

The Dilgar fighters were the epitome of space borne war machines, lean and focused killers with an almost perfect balance of speed, protection and firepower. The Drazi fighers on the other hand were painfully slow and sluggish to the point where they seemed to be standing still amid the green streaks of their enemies.

Of course the reason for this was the size of the Drazi fighters, the Sky Serpeant was about two to three times bigger than a Thorun with similar advantage in terms of armour and weapons. They were the toughest fighters in space designed primarily for anti ship work but finding themselves pressed into dogfights due to a lack of their smaller cousins.

The ones in Stro'kaths fleet were an elite, the best pilots in the freehold, but despite their skill any moderately experienced Thorun pilot would cut through the Serpeants with ease using his agility to stay clear of the formidable gun arcs. Fortunately for them most of the Dilgar pilots were rookies and would never get a chance to learn better.

The Dilgar fighters burst apart as they were shredded by massed fire from the Drazi. The Serpeants didn't even try to dogfight, they just formed a wall and threw down saturation fire relying on fellow squadrons to watch their flank. It was a risk but it seemed the Dilgar did not notice the opportunity, instead they flew into the firestorm hea don and met their doom swiftly. A hand ful of Drazi fighters took damage, but it was only rarely that a gap would open in the formation where a ship was destroyed.

The advance ground on as the defenders desperately reorganized themselves, but they were moving too slow and some units found themselves face to face with the Drazi fleet. Those units did they only thing they could, and attacked.

The first Drazi warships were shot out of the sky, their armour barely obstructing the heavy bolt cannons employed by the Dilgar capital ships. Glowing orbs of energy blasted clean through the attacking ships, tearing apart internal systems and triggering secondary explosions. The almost insect like ships crumpled under the volleys or simply vanished in flame.

But it was only temporary, the fast moving Sunhawks quickly entered range for their own fized weapons and returned fire, bright yellow particle beams hammering through the Dilgar hulls and stripping away guns and hull material. The Dilgar ships were isolated, surrounded and then totally overwhelmed with concentrated firepower shredding the green ships before they could join their fleeing comrades.

The forces Stro'kath faced were designed for support rather than assault and as such lacked the punch of a Strike fleet. While Jha'dur could command a solid core of a few dozen Dreadnoughts backed up by waves of heavy cruisers the Line fleets lacked any form of battleship. Their best ships were Tratharti class gun cruisers, a powerful unit well used by the Dilgar but rare outside the great Strike fleets.

A single Tratharti was more than a match for any Drazi ship, probably for two or three ships in fact, but Battlemaster Yeg'dra had only a handful of these potent vessels with most of his numbers constructed from smaller cruisers and the ubiquitous Ochlavita class destroyer.

His fleets used the standard five ship Pentacan formation with none of the modifications experienced ship commanders employed, they took their deployments straight out of the training manual. On paper it was a good formation and gave an advantage to even the greenest crews, but in this instance the Drazi were fighting smart and isolating each Pentacan they found before they converged into a cohesive battle force.

The Dilgar expected the Drazi fleet to dissolve as soon as the fighting started, they would split and attack the nearest targets overwhelming the closest Dilgar fleets but in so doing create confusion in their own ranks. That confusion would let the majority of the Dilgar fleet extract itself, abandon patrol formation and concentrate into a single mutually supporting combat line.

To Yeg'dra's horror that wasn't happening. The Drazi were dispatching the minimum necessary forces to hunt down his patrol units while a majority of them advanced steadily on his headquarters. He had about a quarter of one fleet massed there in orbit of the supply moon, they were his best ships but also about an eighth of his total force. Against the core Drazi fleet it would be a massacre.

He'd already lost six Pentacans on the system edge and with their speed advantage the Drazi were running down more and more. The Drazi would use three or more of their hunting packs to bracket a Pentacan, one group would cut hard across the Dilgar formations bow to draw fire while the other groups swept in at high speed and attacked from different angles.

It meant the Dilgar fleets were outnumbered and swamped before they could adequately react, usually all five ships falling in one pass. It was a disaster.

When the formation had been invented by the Supreme Warmaster the concept of being overwhelmed had been considered and the Pentacan was designed not only for massed forward fire but when deployed in fleet battle each Pentacan could support its neighbour with interlocking fire. A fully deployed Dilgar fleet was almost impervious to the sort of darting attacks the Drazi had been masters at.

Unfortunately for Yeg'dra he didn't have a fully deployed fleet, and they were suffering for it.

"We're bringing ships back throught he Asteroid fields." The Dilgar second informed. "But we've got Drazi right behind them!"

"If they have jump engines order those ships to use them." Yeg'dra said, knowing that as smaller vessels the vast majority of his forces did not have Vortex generators. 'An uneccesary expenditure' was the official line. They were damn necessary right now.

"Redeploy us on the near side of the Asteroid field." He ordered. "We'll form a firing line and hit the Drazi as they exit the field, also means our ships don't have as far to fall back."

He was counting on the asteroids disrupting the Drazi formation so they arrived piecemeal and he could isolate and destroy them a few groups at a time, exactly what they were doing to him. Yeg'dra hadn't seen much combat but he had passed through the academy with excellent grades and had a good idea about how to fight. This was the ultimate test, and whihe he had long wanted to try himself in battle all of a sudden he really wanted to go back to an uneventful patrol mission.

"Gather our strength here, our ships are stronger, we'll force them into battle head on and trust our guns."

"Yes Battlemaster."

"Send fighters into the Asteroid field to help cover our ships." He completed the orders. "Then standby to shoot the first Drazi that works through those rocks."

The battle by now had moved into the Fendamir asteroid field which suited Stro'kath fine. The Dilgar had not considered laying traps amid the rocks and progress was swift, only the retreating Dilgar Pentacans offered distractions fot the advancing Drazi.

The Drazi warships weaved through the rocks, blasting the slower Dilgar vessels with a volley of particle weaponry before skirting back behind cover avoiding the fairly desulutory and poorly aimed return fire. The Dilgar crews were panicking, firing wildly at the first Drazi ship they saw which was often acting as decoy while its comrades made the kill. The silver ships rolled and spun over the rocks with careful and precise moves avoiding both enemy fire and the natural dangers around them.

One of the Sunhawks lost a wing, spinning out of control it slammed side on into a massive asteroid splitting like a back of metal parts thrown from a tall building. Its crew had no chance to leave, not that the Drazi evacuation systems were entirely trust worthy anyway.

Another Warbird near Stro'kaths command ship was sliced apart by a trio of Dilgar destroyers, red laser cannons cleaving it into neatly delined sections. Four more ships fell to the sudden determined attack before the destroyers were overwhelmed and ripped apart like ravenous wolves pouncing on Lions.

Fighters whizzed back and forth, too slow and they would be shot down by their enemies, too fast and they risked a collision with a errant piece of rock or wreckage. It was a hard and constantly shifting set of variables each pilot had to judge based on their situation, and many judged badly.

Drazi ships were vulnerable to heavy fighters sneaking into weakspots and firing missiles into their weak hulls, but the Dilgar did not seem to be exploiting this. Their Commander was fighting defensively even with his best strike units and sacrificing initiative to the Drazi, a sign of inexperience Stro'kath capitalised on.

Before him another Pentacan was dissected, the cruiser at its pinnacle falling to a strafing run by seven Sunhawks in tight formation, its armour rippling like water as explosions pushed and bent it from the inside.

"Increase our speed." Stro'kath said. "First wave stay on the stragglers, we'll advance on the main enemy fleet at flank speed."

The helm officer quickly acted on the orders while his second relayed the command across the fleet. He could feel the ship push forward, the increased rumble of the reactor increasing its feeds, the slight jolt as the engines accepted the extra power. It was a glorious feeling, pure exhiliration and it was almost enough to make him forget himself.

"All ships will maintain a tight formation." He stated, as much a reminder to himself as the fleet. "We are cold warriors, it is how we will beat these devils. Remember your place and show no mercy."

"Two more formations joining the fleet."

"Understood." Yeg'dra nodded. His fleet had grown but it still seemed terribly small to him compared to the armada barrelling his way. He was not entirely convinced he was going to survive this.

"Communications?"

"We have been able to send no word Battlemaster."

"So they don't even know we are under attack." He said mostly to himself.

"Lead elements of the Drazi fleet coming out of the field!"

"For a volley of nukes." Yeg'dra lamented. "All batteries fire at will, put every gun to them!"

The last Dilgar ships made it out of the Asteroid field, most had been engaged and were trailing clouds of fozen air behind them with great patches of their hulls torn away. Immediately behind them came the Drazi, looping around the last of the rocks and lining up expertly into a solid attack formation. They faced the Dilgar guns without fear and raced forward without hesitation or doubt.

There were many thingsYeg'dra's fleet was not, but in the final analysis it was still a fleet of the Dilgar Imperium, as well trained and well motivated as one would expect of his people. The crews knew their job and fought back their terror, watching their stations and feeding power to their weapons and targeting systems. Each ship might pack less power than one of the Imperiums mighty Dreadnoughts, but together this fleet was still an awesome tool of destruction and now finally it had a chance to prove it.

The leading ships engaged, concentrating on the Drazi ships as they snaked around the obstacles of the Asteroid field. The volley caught the three slowest Dilgar ships, blasting them to scrap alongside the Drazi vessels attacking htem. It was judged an acceptable loss.

The heavy weapons took their toll, out in the open the Drazi front line began to evaporate under the heavy energy bolts. The Drazi ships were smashed out of the way like toys, those that didn't outright explode under multiple hits were flung backwards spinning wildly as the Dilgar gunners found their mark. Follow up ships had to dodge the wrecks of their comrades as well as the edges of the asteroid field and that delay gave the Dilgar fleet time to target and destroy them.

One of the asteroids exploded showering a nearby Drazi ship with super heated debris, melting hundreds of holes through its hull. Fighter squadrons weaved through the chaos, explosions and flashes of light blazing in all directions. Stro'kath kept feeding his ships through, he kept the Dilgar firing on them, he forced them to hold position and engage him instead of trying to remain mobile.

The Dilgar thought they were pinning him down, in truth it was Stro'kath who was holding the Dilgar where he wanted them at the cost of several hundred lives. He did not even once consider it a price not worth paying.

While his fleet advanced head on much as the Dilgar expected the First wave of the Drazi advance that had been hunting down the fleeing patrol groups now made it into action, sweeping in from multiple directions towards the Dilgar fleet. To his credit Yeg'dra responded instantly ordering his flanking units to switch targets from the fleet ahead to the one trying to flank them. Unfortunately the odds were just too far against him.

Stro'kaths fleet gained ground, with the fire against them slackening they could surge forward, accepting their casualties and finally clawing into weapons range. Drazi yellow fire laced with Dilgar red and Yeg'dra's battle line began to waver. The lighter ships fell first, deployed as living shields to screen the heavy cruisers they were at the front of the formation and easily overpowered. With them out of the way the bigger ships began to take damage.

"Tactical withdrawal!" Yeg'dra ordered sharply. "Fall back by division!"

"Sir, Drazi ships are inside our lines!"

"Losses mounting!"

"Enemy locking on!"

The command cruiser jolted suddenly, a massive crack of metal sounding throught he ship. The weapons officer kept the guns firing all the time, blowing open the front end of the Drazi ship that had attacked them.

According to the plot he had Drazi ships on all sides and within his rigid battle line, and he couldn't fight Drazi ships at close range, they were simply running rings around his forces and eroding them to nothing.

"We hold our ground then." He said. "And die like Dilgar."

That was when the Jump points opened.

"Always trust your instincts." Warmaster Dar'sen recited. "Especially when they are about inconvenient situations."

Captain Ca'ra wasn't sure 'inconvenient' was the word he would use to describe a full scale Drazi counter attack, probably something more like 'terrifying' but that was probably why he wasn't a Warmaster in his own right. Yet.

"Tactical plot is showing a lot of ships sir." He reported. "More than we expected."

"Very well, we will just have to be more cautious. Status of First and Second Line fleets?"

Ca'ra quickly reviewed the sensor data being directed to the Dreadnought Terror from across the fleet, looking for transponder signals. It wasn't looking healthy.

"We're looking at over forty percent losses."

"Forty Percent?" Dar'sen failed to hide his surprise. "Unbelievable! Even aa untrained fleet should have held fast against an attack until we arrived!"

"Sensors show a lot of the fleet is still scattered throught he system." Ca'ra grimaced. "The Drazi have been picking them off."

"Well not anymore, now they've got us to deal with." Resolved the Warmaster. "Open channel to the Line fleet."

Yeg'dra didn't notice the fleet arrival at first, the tactical display was cracked down the middle rendering the picture unreadable and black smoke was pouring onto the bridge, sucked through the atmosphere circulators from a more heavily damaged part of the ship.

"Close those damn air vents before we all choke to death!" He roared furiously, all vestiges of calmness gone from his mind. His blood was boiling, forced through his veins by the rapidly beating heart in his chest. He had fought this battle with the aim of stopping the Drazi and keeping his fleet alive, but by this point neither of those goals was within his reach. Now he wanted simply to destroy and die appropriately.

"Main Batteries?" he demanded.

"Out of action!" His second hacked, Yeg'dra couldn't even see him.

"What do we have left?"

"The Aft Pulsar cannons!" Came the reply. "That last run knocked out almost everything!"

The Battlemaster scoffed. The Drazi were learning fast, they'd observed the Dilgar way of war, studied it and then copied it. Some of the tactics they were using came straight out of the Dilgar manual, prizing speed and impact as the ways to win a battle. Imitation was the sincerest form of flattery.

"Next time they make a run on us prepare for course change." He ordered. "We'll ram them."

"Battlemaster! Signal coming through!"

Yeg'dra froze for a moment. "Friendly?"

"It's the Strike Fleet!" The comms officer leapt up. "They're coming into firing range!"

The officer put the message on the remaining bridge speakers.

"Battlemaster Yeg'dra, are you still in command?"

He frantically scrabbled for the communication controls beside his chair.

"Yes, confirmed! Warmaster your timing is impeccable!"

"Perhaps." Dar'sen's voice replied distantly. "Disengage your ships and withdraw to the supply moon."

"At once Warmaster."

"Do not stand down, I will be requiring your forces to counter attack, this Drazi fleet is bigger than anticipated."

"Yes sir."

"Gather whats left of the garrison, form a standard wall formation and wait my orders. We'll distract them."

Yeg'dra's relief was palpable, he had hoped for help but it was a wild flight of fancy, he didn't expect it to actually happen. He could see the Drazi ships already redeploying and ignoring his heavily damaged warship. It was like a last minute reprieve from death row.

"It will take both of us to win this." Dar'sen stated. "Well done for lasting this long, but we aren't finished yet. Execute orders."

Stormhawk

"Warleader Stro'kath, Dilgar warships approaching from our flank!"

Stro'kath took the report in his stride without any hint of surprise or apprehension. A quick look at the rapidly filling sensor returns told him all he needed to know.

"Dreadnoughts at the front, that's a Strike Fleet." He grinned through his aged and cracked skin. "That's more like it, a real challenge instead of these Amateurs. Inform the fleet we are about to engage a Warmaster!"

His comms officer did as was required, letting Stro'kath check the enemy deployment as the word went out.

"Clever, Warmaster Dar'sen." The old Drazi mused, talking to himself was an idosynchracy he'd picked up over time. "You form a wedge as if you mean to drive through us in a frontal attack, but weight your flanks with heavy cruisers to encircle us. Keeping your options open."

"Orders sir?" His second asked.

"This Dar'sen is no fool, but he expects a simple frontal attack. We will give it to him, and then some extra surprises." Stro'kath knew exactly who was commanding the enemy fleet and had studied Dar'sens previous battles extensively. He was in no doubt the depth of the Drazi intelligence service would surprise the Dilgar. Today was a good day for surprises.

"Teddla's fleet will continue to closely engage the Garrison forces. Everyone else break and assume 'Diving Hawk' formation."

He felt extreme satisfaction as his helm officer responded instantly, expertly weaving out of the tangle of warships, both living and dead, and powering into open space ready for the next stage of the battle. The Drazi had learned the lessons of war taught to them in the most brutal of manners by the most brutal of teachers. Now they would show their new skills to the very people who had forced them to adapt.

The Drazi fleet set about its orders, most ships making a final pass spewing yellow particle weapons before swinging away giving Yeg'dra's forces some reathing space. But not much, a quarter of the Drazi force redeployed, set up in fresh hunter groups, then struck the badly mauled Line fleet again tearing deep and ragged holes into the already shattered formation.

Yeg'dra's ships began to retreat, but with a still substantial number of Drazi pressing them the retreat was slow and painful and there seemed little hope of them getting into formation again to help Dar'sens forces.

The main force followed Stro'kath, swarming from multiple directions like a great flock of birds. The rolling ant twisting ships caught the distant sunlight, shining bright as they rapidly and expertly assumed formation.

One minute it was a shapeless morass of ships flying towards each other, by the next it was a tightly deployed multi tiered force driving hard at the Dilgar Strike fleet.

"Now that's impressive." Dar'sen was forced to admit. "You see that? Perfect disengagement and redeployment. One of the hardest aspects of war to master."

"I saw it sir." Ca'ra confirmed. "Didn't really expect to though Warmaster."

"Me neither, not from the Drazi." The Warmaster considered. "I had hoped most of them would simply follow Battlemaster Yeg'dra, that they would be so lost in their bloodlust they would continue killing the closest Dilgar and not notice us until it was too late. Seems they have learned discipline."

Ca'ra kept an eye on the sensor progress. "They are coming into firing range."

"What I wouldn't give for one volley of nukes." Dar'sen lamented, unknowingly repeating Yeg'dra's own wish. The Drazi Front had become the poor relation of the Dilgar war plans. "All guns, time on target, show them your skill and let them understand they still have a long way to go to match us."

The Strike fleet engaged, a torrent of energy bolts followed seconds later by grids of laser fire. The fast moving laser lances caught up with the energy pulses exactly as they reached the Drazi frontline, a perfectly timed tactic that maximised the impact of that opening volley created by Warmaster Jha'dur based on her combat experience. She had been very quiet when her brother found the people of Earth had been using a similar principle for centuries.

The Drazi fleet took more damage in those few seconds than the rest of the battle combined. Entire squadrons were turned to ruin, debris scattering in every direction as smouldering pieces of the Drazi warmachine cooled in the eternal darkness. Yet even then it was a small portion of the total Drazi numbers, and they were moving so fast that they were in range of their own guns before the Dilgar managed a second concentrated volley.

The Drazi likewise massed their own firepower on the leading Dilgar elements, it was not so precise or carefully timed as Dar'sens opener but it was still a devastatingly well placed strike that ripped the front ships to scrap.

"Leading Pentacans are gone." Ca'ra reported with dismay.

"Move the second wave forward, pull back any surviving ships." The Warmaster ordered. "Drazi ships?"

"Approaching at full speed still despite losses."

"Of course they are." Dar'sen grinned. "They aren't so easily discouraged. All units fire at will, use saturation fire, you don't have to destroy every ship just damage them and put them out of the fight. Keep it fast and don't linger on any one target. There are plenty for everyone."

The Dilgar fleet hit back hard, the well trained gunnery crews putting fire exactly where it needed to be. Drazi ships were blown into pieces, every second bringing a hundred hits and a handful more ships wheeling away trailing flames and fuel. The return fire was equally well placed, pummelling the tougher Dilgar ships and causing increasing losses among the Strike fleet. What the Drazi lacked in accuracy they made up with through simple numbers.

Fighters intensified their duel to the death between the fleets, the more skilled Strike fleet pilots inflicting grievous losses on the Drazi aircrews. Missile armed Thoruns pumped weapon after weapon into the sides of Drazi vessels aiming for the bulbous engineering section unprotected by guns and heavy armour. Drazi ships used powerful and exotic reactors that took up half the mass of the ship, a system which when combined with the ships anti inertia systems created a lot of waste energy that needed radiating. It was a balancing act, some Drazi ships had completely exposed Engineering sections, bright intertwining energy grids like red and yellow webs merging and rolling in a glass jar. Others covered over most of the aft hull in armour for greater protection but reduced reactor and drive efficiency.

Stro'kath had his best armoured ships leading the way, but even those had thin strips of radiating metal on their sides and were targets for the better Dilgar pilots.

The Thoruns closed to point blank range, backflipped and fired missiles into the gap before breaking off. The unfortunate Drazi victims splitting open as they were destroyed from the inside out. The Drazi fighters did what they could but against the well flown Dilgar craft it was a losing battle.

Like a swarm of fireflies the Drazi pressed on despite the losses, holding their formation no matter what in a show of cast iron will that even the Dilgar were forced to acknowledge.

"We're almost upon them." Stro'kaths aide yelled over the rattling hull fittings, the ship was virtually falling apart they were accelerating so hard. Every system was beyond its limits, pushed to breaking point in an effort to get to grips with the enemy. Amid the roaring chaos Stro'kath was serene, watching the tactical reports with a dispassionate or at times amused eye. It was like nothing the crew had seen before, and Stro'kath quietly enjoyed shattering preconceptions. Like he was about to do to Warmaster Dar'sen.

"Tell the hawk to spread its wings."

Stro'kath broke into a wide grin. "Alright Warmaster, see what you think of Drazi tactics now."

In a heartbeat the Drazi formation split doen the middle, so fast that it took even Dar'sens well trained gunners by surprise and a sizeable portion of the gunfire missed. The Drazi vessels began to spread out just like the wings of a great silver bird of prey, lapping around the edges of the solid Dilgar fleet and flowing around to surround him.

It was a hard turning manoeuvre and some Drazi ships were too damaged to fully complete it. They fell victim to the Dilgar guns as they were gleefully picked off, but the rest of the Drazi ships were swooping into position with the control of fighter pilots.

Dar'sen watched in silent fury as his flanks suddenly seemed very weak. His enemies were about to concentrate on either side of him, a vice of warships that would squeeze his fleet to destruction.

"Clever Drazi." He said through gritted teeth. "Break formation, divisions one through ten break left and engage, Eleven through twenty break right. Bring them into the forward arcs and open fire!"

As would be expected from a student of Gar'shan the Dilgar response was rapid and decisive, the fleet split in two just like the Drazi and began turning hard to face the expected direction of attack. They were fast, but the Drazi were faster.

It was a breathtaking show of skill, the Drazi wings curled up above the Dilgar deployment, rolled majestically in the sunlight before plummeting down into the midst of Third Strike Fleet. Even some one as cautious as Dar'sen had underestimated them and been shocked by the perfect poise and control Stro'kath had exercised. But the time for elegant moves and precise flying had ended, now it was a close range ship to ship brawl with no finesse, just brutality and hatred powering the fight.

The first Drazi ships dived into the solid green mass of Dilgar ships slicing chunks of metal from their opponents. The return fire was swift, searing any vessel foolish enough to loiter in front of the repositioning Strike fleet. A Sunhawk collided violently with one of the Dilgar cruisers, physically bending the ship in the centre to a forty five degree angle, gusts of air jetting out from a thousand tears and rents in the hull.

Two Drazi cruisers fell to a storm of fire from one of the Dilgar dreadnoughts, a ruptured engine pod spearing a third Drazi ship and lodging in the hull like an arrow in a target. The speared ship wobbled but held course and continued to attack. The fighter engagement moved into the maelstrom, both sides launching strikes on enemy ships and then endeavouring to protect their own fleet.

The Drazi ships had the edge in speed and agility but Dilgar vessels had much better weapons coverage and with the heavier guns and weak Drazi armour an attack run on a Dilgar ship from any direction was a risky undertaking. Yet the Drazi did not hesitate and flung themselves again and again through the interlocking fields of fire coordinating with their fellow ships to deliver the maximum impact against the invaders. The insect like vessels swarmed forward again and again, overwhelming Dilgar Pentacans with simple weight of numbers before regrouping and moving on the next.

"The Hammer just went down!" Captain Ca'ra reported. "We're losing the whole division!"

Dar'sen could see the location of the battle, one skirmish among hundreds waging everywhere. It was chaos but the more he looked the more patterns he could pick out. There was a plan, and the Drazi were executing it magnificently.

"They attack, withdraw a few hundred miles, reform their formation and attack again." He observed. "That brief pause to recover, that's the key. It's the difference between a concentrated wall of ships and a ragged and spent force."

"I see it sir." Ca'ra noticed. "Can we exploit it?"

"We can try and give chase as they pull back, for for each group that retreats two more attack." The Warmaster shook his head. "A sustained attack, they can withdraw and recover, we cannot. Advantage of numbers Captain."

He continued to watch as a Pentacan was swamped by eight times its number of Drazi ships, they fought stoically but didn't have a chance. It was over in less than a minute and was being repeated constantly across the Strike fleet.

"All ships, this is Warmaster Dar'sen." He announced suddenly. "Break contact, prepare hyperspace entry."

Ca'ra quickly aced on the orders. "Jump engines coming on line sir."

"We enter hyperspace, hop to the supply moon and start again." Dar'sen said. "We can't fight them here, but with support from the planetary weapons we can still halt this attack. Go!"

The Strike fleet went to hyperspace, vortexes opening randomly across the battlefield. Some of them caught Drazi ships and erased them utterly from existence, a handful of damaged ships simply exploded as their systems failed to correctly direct the massive energies required to make the transition taking a score of nearby fighters with them. A couple of Drazi ships followed the fleet into hyperspace claiming one more Dilgar Destroyer before they were rounded on and destroyed.

"Reform the line!" Stro'kath ordered. "Warn Taggla he has enemies on the way, then set course for the moon at full speed!"

"You are sure they are going there Warleader?"

"Certain of it, full speed Commander, we are on the eve of victory! My senses burn with the nearness of triumph! The hunt continues, attack!"

The swarm of ships once again paused and gathered before driving forth, eliminating some Dilgar stragglers on the way.. The remnants of the Line fleets were already gathering by the moon with a portion of the Drazi fleet still engaging them. It would only be minutes before Stro'kath would join them.

"We're ready." Ca'ra stated with a hint of worry. "It's putting a lot of strain on the jump engines sir."

"They can handle it, bring us back to normal space."

For the second time in minutes the Dilgar fleet opened their vortexes and made the transition, passing the spectacular light show this mode of travel created. It was a huge risk jumping so soon after making the initial transition, the jump engines had to be recharged at a far higher rate than safety recommended and with such delicate equipment accidents were inevitable.

Six ships didn't make it, their engines exploding violently in a fearsome storm of energy enhanced by the distorted rules of hyperspace. Each ship took the other four members of its Pentacan with it, a stinging loss for the fleet but as far as Dar'sen was concerned an acceptable sacrifice.

To say the battle wasn't going as expected was an understatement. A quarter of his fleet was gone and even more ships damaged but fighting to stay in action. The Drazi were a completely different enemy almost as if they had been replaced overnight with an opponent who could fly and fight like the Dilgar themselves. Gone was the reckless passion that had doomed them at the start of the war, the New Drazi Navy was a professional enemy. And even worse they now outnumbered him five to one.

"Damn they covered that distance fast." Dar'sen winced. "Standard formation, we'll take them head on!"

"Planetary defences are activating beside us." Captain Ca'ra read out from his boards. "The Line fleets are still heavily engaged."

"Ignore them, they're out of this fight." Dar'sen grunted. "All ships, saturation fire, engage!"

But the Dilgar were too late, they barely made it into formation before the Drazi were upon them, racing forward at high speed without even trying to dodge.

The front of the Drazi fleet was like a wave of fire, bright white and red foam on the crest of a steel wave. Explosions and energy fire marked the rapid advance, burning ships carried along by momentum twisted and spun creating a shield for following ships. The Strike fleet reaped a heavy toll but it was nowhere near enough.

Stro'kath had sent the fleet in on a simple frontal attack, it was speed that was decisive this time, and his followers did not disappoint.

The wrecked Drazi ships slammed through the Dilgar frontline like an avalanche, forcing the defenders to break formation or be carried away by the millions of tons of uncontrolled metal. Into the confusion flew squadron after squadron of Drazi ships, as soon as they crossed the threshold of the Strike fleet they split and began strafing the Dilgar elements.

The planetary defence grid lasted a few minutes, far less than expected. Massed fighter strikes brought down the satellites while the defending Dilgar Thoruns were busy elsewhere. With so many vessels the Drazi could cycle their ships through attack and recovery, the Dilgar could not. It was now just a battle of attrition and Dar'sen could see the result.

"Drazi ships locking on!" Ca'ra warned.

"Take them out of my space!" The Warmaster growled. "Recover formation, where is our cover fire?"

"All escorts are also under heavy attack, bow guns armed and firing."

The Command Dreadnought swatted two Sunhawks out of the sky with contemptuous ease, but as it did so five others turned in suddenly from above and battered the heavy ship with gunfire and missiles. The Terror was thrown several miles straight down by the attack, causing the Warmaster to black out for a few moments. When he recovered the bridge was a mess with consoles sorted out and a massive bulge in the aft bulkhead where the metal had taken an explosion.

The Drazi ships swept past and went on to look for a new target, not loitering and making themselves targets for Dar'sens escorts. One more example of their discipline.

"Damage report Captain." Dar'sen asked politely.

"Multiple hull breaches sir!" Ca'ra sounded anything but calm and politely, there was a steady rumbling growl from somewhere in the ship as everything started going wrong. "Weapons failing, main sensors gone, Engines at half power!"

"Where are the Drazi?"

"Everywhere!"

"Make your report correctly Battlecaptain." Dar'sen snarled. "Remember that rank you bear and the blood you carry."

"Sir," Ca'ra forced himself to speak evenly. "Drazi forces have broken our lines, we are surrounded tactically and strategically. All units report they are under heavy attack and cannot break out to assist us."

The Warmaster observed the information without comment, glancing at his wounded crew and battered equipment. He knew his responsibilities, to his ship, his fleet and his post. Whatever decision he made he was going to have to answer for it, in one world or another.

"Seems the odds are against us today."

The ship vaulted with another hit, the thunder roaring through the corridors and bulkheads.

"Orders sir?"

"Orders?" Dar'sen smiled bitterly. "There are no orders that will make this better Captain. The battle is over. Signal the general retreat."

"Retreat sir?"

Dar'sen managed a slight laugh despite everything. "You expected to fight to the death Captain? No, a Strike fleet is too valuable to lose on a gesture. Even in our current state we are a valuable asset. Send the orders, activate jump engines and pray we don't explode."

Dar'sen sent a final order to the supply yard below informing the commander that the Drazi fleet had achieved orbital superiority and he should take the necessary action to avoid his base falling into enemy hands.

With a groan the power shifted from weapons to the jump drives without any feared disaster. The Vortex opened before the Flagship and she made it to safety. Across the fleet the scene was repeated, reflected also in the survivors of the two Line fleets. Many ships could not run, they either had no jump drives and were to far away to share one created by a comrade, or were too damaged to try. Those ships fought on to the death, firing every gun until it failed and then wading through the Drazi on a path of destruction colliding with anything too slow to get out of the way.

But it was an after thought, the Dilgar fleets were gone, fled into hyperspace and finally the Drazi could reclaim their colony. The war ravaged fleet formed up one more time, this time there were no enemies to press, no attack to force, no invaders to vanquish. They had won.

"I want Casualty reports." Stro'kath grunted. "Reassemble the fleet groups based on operational ability, all active ships will resupply immediately and prepare to move out."

"Sir, we won! The Dilgar are fleeing!"

"I see that Commander." Stro'kath indulged. "But one victory does not win a war. The Dilgar will be back, they will gather every ship and counter attack from Tithalis, I estimate they will be back here within a month."

"Yes sir."

"Therefore we must be at Tithalis by the end of this week to maintain the pressure and prevent them regrouping. We have them on the run, we must press our advantage."

The supply base exploded, a series of tremendous detonations wracked the area as fuel and munitions were ignited in a huge chain reaction. Thousands of Dilgar perished in the firestorm, though it was probably preferable to becoming Drazi prisoners.

"Scorched Earth." Stro'kath observed. "Our enemy will be ruthless, I do not expected to find any Drazi survivors on our recovered worlds."

"Their atrocities are well known to all our people." The Commander spat. "We will bring them our retribution!"

"We will, and swiftly." Stro'kath advised. "This is a great day, our first true Victory over the Dilgar. We've shown they can be beaten, and even the legendary Strike fleets are still just ships and crew. They can be destroyed."

The hefty Drazi warrior closed his eyes and took a long steady breath.

"As Droshalla guided us to this victory, may he continue to light our path."

The crew nodded in reverence.

"Let the dead be honoured as Drazi heroes, they fought well each and every one, we have overcome this first challenge. Prepare for the next one."

Calmness returned to the Fendamir system, the peace of the grave. Ships silently glided through the void now as tombs and memorials, as cold and lifeless as they bodies ensconced within. Dilgar and Drazi ships passed by no longer firing, no longer on opposing sides, now just united in their final end.

Supply ships trickled into the system to replenish the surviving Drazi Warships, still a vast fleet and easily more than capable of grinding any hostile battle group it came across into the dirt. The surprise was sprung, the Dilgar now knew what they were facing, but it was an open question whether or not they could do anything about it.

The Dilgar had failed in battle before, losing ships and failing to fully complete their missions. But on balance they always made the most of a battle and came away with some measure of success. Today was different, it was a total defeat. The Dilgar could salvage nothing from this, they had lost Fendamir, they had lost the initiative, they had lost millions of tons of supplies and they had lost a staggering number of ships. For the Drazi it was a total victory.

It was going to shake the Dilgar navy to its core, and instill a burning thirst for revenge upon those responsible. And not all of those judged responsible would be Drazi.

Operation Retributive Strike had achieved the first of its aims, and Warleader Stro'kath was assured his glorious place in history.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 41

49

Mitoc

Dilgar occupied Space

Usually setting foot on a planet reinvigorated Warmaster Jha'dur, it was a rare pleasure and always made her feel good especially after a long military campaign. Mitoc itself had rapidly become one of her favourite places, in terms of scenery and climate she preferred it even to Omelos.

She was glad the council had chosen this world as the new Dilgar homeworld and looked forward to the day her race would thrive under these clear blue skies. The reasons for the choice did of course extend beyong pleasantries like scenery, the planet was far enough from the other powers to be a secure location and surrounded by a buffer of former League colonies the Dilgar planned to turn into fortresses. While the system did lack certain natural resources its strategic position and the similarity of Mitoc to Omelos in its prime had sealed the worlds fate.

It's population was an afterthought. The Council was happy to exterminate them with a plague bt Jha'dur had argued that they should be used as a pre existing workforce transforming their own world into a place for Dilgar to live.

Those that survived the slave labour would then be efficiently disposed of.

Jha'dur considered it a simple and resource saving plan any fool could administer, but apparently the Council had appointed a fool of grand proportions to act as temporary planetary governor until an official leadership was installed. Governor Par'nan had neglected his duties and while strictly speaking Jha'dur should have just ignored him and let the Council handle his failures her fleet was currently in orbit and supplies were delayed.

She thought a personal visit might just send the correct message.

Unfortunately she had underestimated Pr'nan's foolishness, not only was he not at the capital to greet her he had also failed to leave a deputy, and that had put her in a bad mood. She apprehended the first officer who walked past, discovered the Governor was at one of the work camps and had the officer escort her to that location in a staff car that bumped on a poorly maintained road.

By they time the rattling journey came to an end she was determined to take out her rage on someone. She thundered past the gate guards who had the sense not to ask for her I.D and found the Governor surrounded by guards glaring at a group of workers.

"Warmaster Jha'dur!" he tried to sound welcoming but instead sounded terrified. That at least cheered her up a little. "What a pleasant surprise, I wish…"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if you checked your reports." She cut him off. "Then you would see I filed a flight plan to come down here, would you like to know why?"

"Of course Warmaster."

"Because a week ago I requested supplies be prepared so my fleet could refuel immediately. Those supplies are still being gathered, so it seems I have some time to kill."

She made sure she was glaring straight in Par'nan's eyes when she said 'kill' to make sure he got the threat.

"I apologise Warmaster." He didn't sound remotely contrite.

"I reviewed the reports from this planet. You are behind schedule across the board. Why?"

"I was just in the process of resolving that very question." Par'nan beamed. It seemed once he was over the initial shock his confidence was returning. The Man had to be a crony of Len'char and that annoyed Jha'dur more.

"Go on."

"This work group has failed to meet its targets." Par'nan stated. "I am going to make an example of them."

Jha'dur stepped forward to look at the workers, they were split into three groups and the central group was easily the scruffiest looking of the three.

"This is the group that failed?"

"It is." Par'nan said. "The other two groups met their targets, they will be dismissed."

She looked over the twenty people of the group, most looked sullen and resigned but there was one who met her gaze squarely.

"You." she pointed to him and said in flawless Abbai, diplomatic language of the League. "Step forward."

The Mitoc worker glanced around uncertainly, but complied and moved to the front of his group.

"You have some nerve to look at me directly." Jha'dur remarked.

"I'm a dead man whether I cower or not." He said. "Why should I hide my face?"

"You should not." Jha'dur answered. "You failed your targets, you realise the penalty for that is death?"

"I do."

"Why didn't you try harder?"

"Because I am not a slave."

Par'nan chuckled behind the Warmaster. "Not what it looks like from here."

"Governor," Jha'dur spoke with an edge. "Kindly do not interrupt my conversations." She returned her attention to the Mitoc native. "You do not wish to work for the Dilgar?"

"I will not build your war factories so you can conquer other worlds." He spat. "I will not help your kind spread violence and death, and I won't be a part of what you are doing to my home!"

"Even though it means death?"

"Yes." He answered defiantly.

"And your whole group agrees?"

"They do." The man said. "That's why your precious targets were failed."

Jha'dur looked out over the camp, it was a vast work site filled with dust, construction machines and toiling Mitoc natives. There were thousands of them labouring and more than a few nearby had stopped to watch the discussion. That alone was a sign of the lax discipline here, no one should stop when a Warmaster looked their way.

"I would guess most of this camp agrees with you." She mused. "That is why the whole project is behind schedule."

"You would be right." The Mitoc said. "Your only choice is to kill us all."

"Don't think that I won't if necessary." Jha'dur replied coldly. "But there are other options. Guards, load rifles."

The dozen Dilgar guards checked their power feeds and the air hissed with energy rifles charging. The Mitoc's of group two took a step back.

"You." She gestured at the spokesman. "Step forward, you should see this."

He reluctantly did as instructed.

"Guards." Jha'dur commanded. "Execute work group One."

"Group one met its targets." Par'nan said. "It was group two that…"

"I am aware of that." Jha'dur sighed impatiently. "Group two failed its targets knowingly. They were ready to sacrifice their lives to make a point. Admirable." She fixed the spokesman with her cold gaze. "But I said the punishment was death, not necessarily your own deaths. Guards, follow my order."

Without further question the guards lowered their rifles and fired into the surprised workers, easily gunning down the unarmed people. The snapped their rifles back up afterwards leaving smoking barrels and shocked silence from both Mitoc and the Governor.

"You may be ready to lose your own lives." Jha'dur spoke softly, the scene was silent enough for everyone to hear. "But what about the innocent lives of your neighbours? Your friends and family? Fail in your targets and the group beside you will be executed. Fail twice and you will face your own deaths anyway. By vivisection."

She looked down on the spokesman.

"I'm putting you in charge of this whole camp." She stated flatly.

"You can't do that!" The Governor blustered.

"I just did." Jha'dur snapped. "You will organise work, meet targets and keep your workers motivated." She explained to the Mitoc. "Fail in your monthly targets and the camp on the other side of the city will be executed, some thirty thousand people if memory serves."

She turned her back and began walking, before suddenly pausing.

"By the way, you better hope that other camp meets its targets, the lives of everyone in this camp depends on it. Make sure that information is well known. Governor, a word please."

Jha'dur swiftly walked to the corner of one of the guard buildings, the Governor rushing to catch up.

"I really don't think…"

Jha'dur drew the glittering sword that was part of her uniform and flipped the blade up to neck level, the point connecting with Par'nan's throat bringing him to an utterly stationary stop.

"Firstly you will address me as Warmaster Jha'dur at all times." She said coolly. "You may be part of the civilian structure, but you will respect my rank and position as a council member. Am I clear on this?"

He very carefully nodded.

"You will not contradict me in front of your men." She continued. "And certainly not in front of the natives. Is this also clear?"

He nodded, a trickle of blood running bright down the gleaming blade.

"You will obey my orders. You will perform your duties on this world. You will respond to official requests for supplies. You will maintain schedule. Also clear?"

He nodded.

"Questions? Comments?"

He shook his head.

"Good." She lowered the sword. "I believe everyone should get a second chance when practical." She took a white cloth and cleaned the blade. "This is yours, I expect a radical improvement or I shall extract your internal organs and see if you can live without a body. Always wanted to try that."

"Of… of course Warmaster."

"Oh, and disrespect me again and I shall skin you alive and bury you in a box full of salt." She threw the bloody cloth at his feet. "I have better things to do than clean up your mess."

She replaced the sword in its scabbard in time to notice the officer who brought her to the camp skid to a hald beside her with a piece of paper in his hand.

"Urgent message Warmaster."

Governor Par'nan tried to get a look but Jha'dur began walking away as she read. She read the brief message twice, a communiqué from War Command, then turned to the officer.

To her pleasant surprise he was already holding out a comms device, anticipating her need.

"You'll make a good aide Commander." She smiled. "Remind me to mention your assistance in my report."

"Thank you Warmaster."

She activated the tube like device. "Captain An'jash?"

"Receiving Warmaster." The familiar voice replied.

"Prepare to break orbit, we're leaving."

"The whole fleet?"

"Not yet, just the flagship and escort. The rest of the fleet will continue to resupply and be prepared to depart within the next five days."

"Yes Warmaster, our heading?"

"Omelos." She said the word with little relish. "We are needed at home, it seems things have slipped in my absence."

"We will be ready Warmaster."

"We have much work to do, Jha'dur out."

She turned to the Governor.

"I want my fleet supplied in three days. Fail to meet this target and by all that is unholy I will make you suffer. Get out of my sight."

The Governor scuttled away, leaving Jha'dur and the efficient Commander.

"What do I need now?"

"A shuttle Warmaster." He smiled. "I called one in, it is in the air and due to arrive in six minutes beside the main gate."

"Outstanding Commander." She nodded. "What unit are you in?"

"Fortieth Storm trooper division."

"Not anymore, I'm transferring you to the First Division attached to my Strike fleet. You are too skilled for this menial location."

"Thank you Warmaster."

"Captain An'jash will draft your orders, I expect to be in heavy combat within two weeks."

"For the Imperium Warmaster."

"Exactly right." She agreed. "Because if we fail so does the Imperium."

Dublin

Ireland

Earth Alliance

Gerald and Maureen O'Leary kept a neat house, it wasn't especially large or grand but they took a good amount of pride in its appearance. Maureen was fastidious when it came to cleaning, and Gerald more or less had to put up with it and do what he could to avoid creating mess. If anything Maureen had been working at double the pace this week to clean the place up for the homecoming of her son Francis.

While he kept in touch regularly he hadn't actually managed a visit home in months, not since he had taken his new 'Grown up job' as his father called it, though for obvious reasons neither of them knew the true depth of what their son was doing in Geneva for Earth Intelligence.

His room had been left almost exactly as it had been the day he left, though noticeably cleaner, and the guest room had been made up in equally immaculate fashion for his guest Heather. To his eternal relief his parents had welcomed his fellow agent with restraint and had yet to say anything embarrassing. Of course there was still time.

"So is your Mom a good cook?" Heather queried laconically.

"Well, she isn't a bad cook." Francis answered. "But I made a stomach pump just in case."

She laughed lightly as they stood in the garden admiring the green fields behind the house. It was a traditionally overcast day but the rain was thankfully holding off.

"My mom never cooked, she phoned the Chinese takeaway." Heather shrugged. "When she was sober enough anyway."

"Yeah." Francis looked awkwardly at his feet. "Must have been tough."

"Well yeah, but it showed me how to survive by myself. Showed me the hard way that the only person who can look after me is me."

"I don't think I ever had to face that." Francis answered honestly. "You could say I've had a bit of a sheltered life."

"Not Sheltered, just normal." She smiled slightly. "I'm a little envious of you, seeing this place you grew up, a real family, friends like Dom."

"Your envious because I know Dom?" Francis made a joke of it. "You can take him with you home!"

She laughed. "He signed up with Jaws didn't he?"

Yeah, Earth Force recruit." Francis shook his head in lingering disbelief. "Never thought he would."

"People can surprise you." Heather stated, the depth of meaning there clear to Francis.

"Francis?" Maureen called from the house. "You have a visitor at the front door!"

Heather shot him a sideways glance. "Not an old girlfriend I hope?"

"No." he went somewhat red. "At least not that I remember."

He reluctantly left the back garden and walked through the hall to the opposite front door where his mother stood chatting to a figure. As he approached she stepped aside revealing Agent Chapel.

"Hey Francis, Heather here too?"

"Yes sir." He nodded

"Somethings come up at work." Chapel said. "Mrs O'Leary, do you have a room we can chat in quietly.

"Of course, there's a study through that door." She gestured to the left. "I remember you visited the day my Francis got his job."

"That's a good memory Mrs O'Leary." Chapel smiled. "I see where your boy gets it from now."

"Ah, don't flatter me." She beamed proudly. "Now you will stay for dinner."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose."

"Sir, I don't think that was a request." Francis hinted.

"No it wasn't." Maureen said in mock seriousness. "You'll stay and eat, its only hospitable and I like to run a civilized house."

"Well I am feeling a little hungry." Chapel caved in.

"That's the spirit." Maureen grinned. "Roast Beef and Potatoes alright with you?"

"Sounds great." Chapel replied. "But first…"

"I'll get Heather." Francis darted off while with another nod of thanks Chapel took up residence in the study.

The study was a small and cluttered room lined with shelves which in turn were stacked with traditional looking bound books and more contemporary racks of data crystals. Most were reference books and texts used by Francis' father in his career as a chartered Accountant but there were also a fair selection of novels and classical fiction. The movie collection on the crystals mostly belonged to Francis, he just hadn't had time to arrange their transfer to Geneva. Perhaps in part he didn't want to, keeping them here meant a part of him was always home.

He allowed Heather into the room first, closed the door and cleared three wooden chairs around a writing desk for them to sit on. Chapel had taken on a business like expression putting both Heather and Francis on alert.

"I've been speaking with the Director." Chapel stated. "And while you still have four days of leave left he has asked that I come and recall you."

"Something gone wrong?" Heather wondered.

"Maybe." Chapel said. "We've had a massive surge in high level Dilgar communications and I need the whole codes section back to work on it."

"A new offensive?" Francis guessed.

"Our early reports indicate the opposite, a defeat." Chapel drummed his fingers briefly on the chair arm rest. "The Delphi is out in neutral space intercepting as many signals as it can and sending them our way. Our preliminary work up indicates the Drazi have launched a massive counter offensive and might well be turning the tide of the war."

"Finally." Heather exhaled gladly. "About time the League got their act together."

"The Director was on vacation too, having a little fun in his own way." Chapel half smiled, the Directors idea of relaxing was practicing his old infiltration and disguise skills. "But he's back in Geneva now and I'm heading back in three hours, as soon as the HALO jet arrives and fuels up."

"Then I better come with you." Francis nodded. "If it's this big I understand the recall."

"Me too." Heather agreed. "This could be the turning point for the League."

"The Director is going to meet with the President when we get some solid data." Informed Chapel. "We recently came to an arrangement with a League power, the Balosians. Through them we'll share some intelligence and make sure they and the Markab know what's happening."

"Wouldn't their own agencies know that?"

"They might, but the Director isn't impressed by League intelligence." Chapel dismissively waved his hand at the idea. "They missed all the signs of a massive Dilgar military build up on their doorstep until it was way too late. The Director is the kind of guy who likes to do things himself to make sure they're done right."

"We'll be on that plane." Francis said firmly.

"Me too." Heather concurred. "Been a good break though."

"Glad you rested." Chapel stood, motioning for his two agents to do so too. "Well then, lets eat."

"Roast Beef and Potatoes." Heather smiled. "Irish food."

"Could be worse." Francis offered.

"I was raised on Italian food, so I got standards." Chapel flashed a grin. "But I also know good hospitality when I see it, and I won't throw that back. I just hope my gut can handle it!"

"One way to find out." Heather announced, then opened the door.

To Francis' relief dinner turned out fine, the Beef was done to perfection and the vegetables soft but not soggy. They had been joined by Dom who was extremely excited about his new career choice.

"So it'll be Earth Force for you Dermot?" Gerald O'Leary sparked conversation.

"Yes Mr O'Leary." He answered in a pleased tone. "I want to fly Furies."

"You're brother did that didn't he?" Maureen addressed her husband.

"He did, back in the Ch'Lonas confrontation." Gerald confirmed. "He got two kills!"

"That's pretty cool." Dom grinned.

"It is no such thing." Maureen chastised. "He just did what he was told."

"He defended Earth territory." Gerald agreed. "Flying an old Aries class Starfury."

"That's a solid old fighter." Chapel mentioned. "Had a chance to fly one once."

"Really?" Dom frowned. "I didn't think you were that old?"

Heather made a slight grunting noise as she suppressed a chuckle.

"It wasn't in active service." Chapel smiled. "Just a training flight."

"You were in the Force Mr Chapel?" Gerald asked.

"For a few years." He nodded.

"What was it like?" Maureen asked pleasantly.

Chapel finished a slice of Beef before sitting back and getting a slightly distant look. "Well I kinda enjoyed it, I could have done that job for life but a better offer came my way."

"You're current job?" Gerald asked. "Same job Francis has?"

"That's right Mr O'Leary." Chapel nodded. "I had some fighter training but my main expertise was planet side."

"So you were in the army?" Dom asked.

"Assault Rangers." Chapel confirmed proudly. "First in to heavy attacks, better than those Airborne nancies."

Gerald laughed. "There's some rivalry there?"

"Yeah, the Airborne guys call themselves the elite of Earth Force." Chapel swigged some Guiness provided by Francis' father. "So do the Marines, but truth is the Rangers are the best."

"And I bet if I had an old airborne veteran he'd be saying the same thing about your guys!"

"Absolutely!" Chapel laughed. "My assistant Jenny, I think you met her?"

"Ahh yes, the young lady you came with last time." Maureen said. "The one my boy kept giving looks to."

"Mom!" Francis protested.

"That's her, quite the head turner." Chapel confirmed. "Well she spent some time with an Airborne unit end of last year on a little field trip, she thinks they're the best in the Force."

"Well I'm still going to try for a pilot." Dom remarked as he filled his mouth.

"In the end that's for Earth Force to decide." Chapel explained. "Everyone does the same basic training, discipline, drill, basic weapons proficiency and all that. Gives every member of the Force a common base so if it came to it anyone can grab a rifle and fight, right up to Starship Captains and back room guys."

"Who decides?" Francis asked with genuine interest.

"Usually the base commander." Chapel said. "But if you get exceptional scores in any one field you'll get cherry picked by the top brass, that happened to me and a lot of people I know. They'll put you where they need you and where you can really shine, even if you don't realise it at first."

That was true and Francis himself had experienced it. He'd been picked out of civilian life and given a job he couldn't have imagined applying for, and it had turned out to be perfect for him, and he was perfect for it. Heather was the same while for Jenny and Chapel something similar had also happened only for them it was military life they were taken out of, the Rangers for Chapel and deep recon teams for Jenny.

"So I might not end up a pilot?" Dom asked.

"You can put in a preference." Chapel said. "But Earth Force will give you the job your score suits you for, trust me they're really good at fitting you in somewhere. You'll love it, Army, Navy or Flight school."

"So I was wondering." Maureen raised a question. "What was it exactly you do?"

"The company?" Chapel raised an eyebrow. "Imports and exports."

"So like a shipping company?"

"Sort of, we do have a few ships on our register, but mostly its just people and liasing."

"And Francis runs you computers?" she pressed.

"Absolutely, he's very good at it." Chapel said honestly. "We need an up to date computer system for our business."

"And I'll be leaving early." Francis dropped in. "I need to go back tonight."

"Tonight?" Maureen seemed mildly distressed.

"Yeah, I'm afraid we've got something big come up." Chapel said soothingly. "Francis and Heather are needed, they're very important to us."

"Important?" Maureen huffed. "Well I suppose they do pay you a good wage."

"And it's a steady career." Gerald added. "Do you good to keep your employers happy."

"And our customers." Francis said, getting an approving nod from Chapel.

"This is all to do with those Dilgar isn't it?" Maureen said angrily. "I know they are to blame."

For an unhealthy moment Heather and Francis shared an 'Uh-Oh' glance.

"How do you mean Mrs O'Leary?" Chapel asked carefully.

"Well if you're an export company you must work a lot with the League." She said. "From the news it looks like the League is falling apart and that must be bad for business."

The EIA personnel smiled with relief. "Exactly right, bad for business." Chapel said. "We have certain assets out there that need protecting."

"I understand." Gerald nodded. "There's a lot of trade potential in the League, and I can't see healthy relations with these Dilgar."

"You'd be right dad." Francis said. "Cold blooded bunch."

There was a moment of silence before Gerald started a new topic.

"Mind if I make an observation Mr Chapel?"

"Go ahead."

"You don't look like the office type."

"Well it's a pretty recent promotion, I used to be a field man."

"What did that involve?"

Chapel took a long drink before continuing. "Well my company has an interest in cross border traffic, we don't like it when things cross EA space without being registered."

"Like illegal imports?" Gerald clarified.

"Exactly, and exports." Chapel confirmed. "We like to be able to control what goes to alien powers, even the nicer ones. Sometimes that means computer traces through people like Francis, sometimes it means putting people on the ground to seek out organisations doing a little illegal trade."

"And that would be you." Maureen stated.

"That's right Mrs O'Leary, and that's why my old job as a Ranger came in handy. See my first job was Beta Durani, not a pleasant place overall."

"Big criminal underworld." Dom chipped in. "They say its run by the Durani Mafia."

"A lot of it was." Chapel confirmed. "And my company found that concerning. The Mafia was running a lot of illegal trade, goods, people, information and stuff. All going on under the local governments noses."

"Sounds serious." Gerald said.

"It was, so my company along with the local law guys set up a guy on the inside. Two guesses who they picked."

Everyone at the table had stopped eating and was listening to the story, Heather and Francis with a little more understanding of the context than the others.

"Now getting into the Mafia ain't easy." Chapel continued. "First you gotta earn some respect. So I set up in the underground boxing rackets. That's how I got this nose, had it broken four times and after that there's no way it'll set properly. Now I did pretty good and earned a reputation in those circles, that got me into the Mafia as a foot soldier, like an enforcer."

"Damn, really?" Dom said in awe.

"Yeah, really." Chapel grinned. "From there I worked my way up, by earning trust and making sure they guys ahead of me got caught red handed by the law. After three years I was a Capo, like a made man. You've seen those Mafia movies right?"

"Yeah, loads of them." Dom replied eagerly.

"Now back then there were plenty of groups on Durani, but the big one was the Regio family, they were Mafia royalty, genuine Sicilian descent. They ran everything including this little trading business. Those are the guys I got in with."

"Saw them on TV." Dom announced.

"So I hear that somehow they got the plans to one of our ships, our brand new Heavy Cruisers and they are making a deal to sell them to an alien government."

"The Narns." Dom said.

"Yeah, so my boss tells me that's the evidence they need. I have to find out when the transfer will happen which meant sneaking around Regio Headquarters, which was the family mansion, and stealing the data. Now that was hard, I'm not a subtle guy but I did it and got the information to the police. Rest is history."

"Holy Mother of…"

"Gerald!" Maureen snapped. "language!"

"Ah let it go woman, this is they guy who brought down the Regio family!"

"Whaoah." Dom gasped, suitably impressed.

"Well it was a team effort." Chapel said quickly.

"That's an eye opener." Francis agreed.

"I wasn't always old." Chapel grinned. "And I still get plenty of field time now, but not so much with the undercover. Usually one of our people only goes into deep cover once."

"You're like a spy!" Dom smiled.

"Well, pretty close yeah." Chapel grinned knowingly. "But it isn't anywhere near as fun as being a real spy, right Francis?"

"Well it has it's moments." The young man grinned back.

"Francis," His mother said. "I don't want you infiltrating the Mafia."

"Don't worry Mrs O'Leary," Chapel said. "Your son is too valuable to send into a job like that, he's always surrounded by colleagues. Don't worry about it, I've guaranteed his safety."

"And mine I hope!" Heather retorted.

"Only if you start dressing better." Chapel smiled.

"He's right." Maureen agreed. "You're a lovely young lady, you should dress smarter."

"Mom!" Francis sighed. "I like Heathers clothes, very casual."

"Thanks." His fellow agent smiled.

"You know I have a nice woman's suit that might fit." Maureen mused. "Nice blouse and skirt."

"Thanks Mrs O'Leary, but I don't think I'm much of a skirt person."

"Oh, you haven't got hairy legs have you?"

"Mom!" Francis exclaimed, but Heather was verging on hysterical laughter. Even Chapel was amused.

"Unless that's undercover clothing." Mrs O'Leary paused. "Like a street gang?"

"It's the way she always looks." Francis defended. "I like it."

"Well you never did know good clothes."

His Father laughed. "But you have good taste in women."

"Dad, don't you start too."

"Now the last one was good, but if I can say so you young lady are radiant."

"Aw, thanks Mr O'Leary." Heather grinned.

"You'll make a good Daughter in law." Maureen said.

There was a dull thud as Francis' head hit the table.

"I'm flattered." Heather took the comment effortlessly.

"Well much as I genuinely hate to break this up," Chapel wiped his hands on a napkin. "We've got a plane to catch."

"So soon?" Maureen asked.

"Afraid so, been a pleasure again Mrs O'Leary, Mr O'Leary."

"You are welcome anytime." Gerald offered.

"Thank you." Chapel rose. "My car is outside if you two would like to pack."

Francis picked himself up and stood, still a fetching shade of crimson. "I'll get my bags."

"Me too." Heather followed, still incredibly amused. "Been great meeting you."

"Now you will come again?" Maureen said. "Nice to have another lady around the house."

"I'd love to." She said honestly before heading to her room.

"Sorry about that." Francis offered when they were out of earshot.

"Don't be, it's so refreshing to be around a normal family."

"You think that's normal and refreshing?"

"Of course it is, you're a lucky man Francis O'Leary."

He smiled. "I think I'm beginning to see that." He held her gaze for a long and pleasantly rewarding moment, then grabbed his bags. Five minutes later they were ready to go.

"Take care." Maureen said. "And don't forget to call."

"I won't mom."

"Still getting travel sick?" she enquired.

"Actually no, I think I got over it."

"Ahh, knew you'd grow out of that victim phase one day."

Heather again snorted slightly as she withheld laughter.

"Try get home at Christmas son." His father said. "And feel free to bring your girl friend."

"That's friend who happens to be a girl dad."

"Whatever son." He winked. "Best of luck with that one."

Chapel reached out and shook hands. "Thanks for dinner, you have a lovely home."

"Very kind of you." Maureen grinned.

He gave Dom a slap on the shoulder. "Have fun with training." He said. "It'll be great, just as long as you don't get Gunny Hurley. But I bet he's retired by now."

"What?" Dom said. "Who?"

"It'll be fine. Probably." Chapel shrugged. "Well good luck, and I hope to see you all again soon."

They set of to the roadside

"Remember to call!" Maureen called after them, and with a finally wave they piled into the hired car and left.

"He's growing up nicely." Gerald said proudly. "And he's got my taste in women."

"I better pick a proper wedding dress." Maureen headed into the house. "She's not marrying my son in fatigues and Marine boots!"

"Marriage?" he blinked.

"Ah come on, it was obvious!" she slapped his arm. "I better start planning, there's a million things to organize!"

With a chuckle Gerald closed the door and went to find a newspaper.

Omelos

Homeworld of the Dilgar Imperium.

Warmaster Jha'dur's task force had been given priority clearance all the way to the homeworld, the dozen heavy warships bypassing the jump gate and emerging from hyperspace almost in orbit of the planet itself, an extremely rare occurrence usually outlawed for the inherent dangers of ships arriving in the busy overhead orbital lanes.

But today speed was by far the most important factor with the emergency meeting of the War council holding priority over every other concern. Jha'dur didn't have the full details but she knew Fendamir was lost and that was enough. She was good friends with Warmaster Dar'sen, one of the few people she actually respected as a competent leader and knew that for him to be defeated the Drazi must have pulled some real surprises out of thin air.

She was already in the shuttle when the fleet arrived and within ten seconds she was out of the hangar and hurtling at maximum safe speed for the capital city.

On the way down she regarded the scene in orbit, dozens of ships held station within visual range scrambled in case the Drazi risked a raid on the heart of the Imperium. Omelos was surprisingly lightly defended for such an important world, it had a couple of stations and an outdated defence grid with a scattering of lightweight satellites. War command simply hadn't expected to face an attack on Omelos itself so the resources that would have gone on defences had been channelled to warship production instead.

The one thing Omelos did have a lot of was shipyards, vast complexes of them orbited the world and many others beside feeding the Dilgar warmachine.

A small cluster of yards caught the Warmaster's eye, the ships in them were of an unfamiliar design. She scrutinized them as the shuttle passed below and made a mental note to ask what they were after she landed. The navy was desperate for tried and proven ships, commissioning prototypes at this critical stage was foolhardy in the extreme.

The shuttle bounced through the air, shaking the passengers but eliciting no reaction from Jha'dur. She held the same hard expression she had worn since hearing the news, it was a failure on a grand scale and utterly unacceptable, a defeat like this could galvanize the League and threaten everything she had worked for.

They broke through cloud cover and began a rapid breaking descent, the grey sprawl of the capital beneath them. Jha'dur absently watched it flicker by, the heavy stone buildings, the countless statues to dimly remembered heroes of dimly remembered wars, streets choked with cars and on the horizon wisps of smoke from distant munitions factories.

There were no skyscrapers on Omelos, no great towers. Every building was a squat heavily built fortress designed to survive artillery strikes. It made an intriguing insight into Dilgar mentality, everything, even architecture, was a military concern for the race and should be optimised for warfare. From homes to schools roads and gardens. Everything was geared for war. It was no wonder the people were the way they were.

At the centre of the city was the Imperial palace, still a squat building but with far more decoration than the average government residence. The Emperor was currently on a tour of war factories but it did not matter, he had no say in the way the war was run or the direction of his people. He was a figurehead, a powerful symbol and despite his bloodline The Emperor took his orders from Gar'shan just like everyone else.

The shuttle flew over the palace, its destination a more unassuming structure that housed the Council a mile further out from the city centre nestled in a huge paved square. It had the effect of isolating the building for two hundred yards on all sides, a statement of the structure standing strong alone. More practically it also offered clear fields of fire for any defenders garrisoned inside in case the city was under attack.

Today the square was packed with crowds surrounding a circular area marked out for landings and a path from it to the building was fenced off and lined with armed soldiers. A small party was waiting at the edge of the landing site to greet the Warmaster, their features indistinct at this distance.

The pilot put the ship down neatly on the pad and opened the door for Jha'dur. She didn't bother with a formal escort but as always she was followed by her personal Spectre bodyguard invisible beneath his black light stealth suit. She did however turn out in full Warmasters regalia, decked in gold and blue when she stepped off the shuttle the roars from the crowds intensified prompting mild puzzlement.

Despite everything Jha'dur could not help but smile when she the leader of her welcome home party.

"War Captain Tor'han." She greeted. "It is good to see you."

"And you Warmaster." He saluted, which Jha'dur returned crisply. "The Council is ready, if you would follow me."

Tor'han had been Jha'dur's first commanding officer and an excellent Captain. His battles in the early days of the Dilgar navy had earned him a series of prestigious commands and the favour of Warmaster Gar'shan. When he had assumed the title of Supreme Warmaster he had promoted Tor'han to act as his fleet aide in much the same way An'jash supported Jha'dur or Evenil supported Sha'dur.

As a consequence Tor'han spent most of his time commanding the home fleet guarding Omelos, a highly prestigious posting but it had kept him from the front lines which Tor'han secretly resented.

But he accepted it, the Supreme Warmaster had assigned him a role and Tor'han would fulfil it to the full extent of his abilities. The loyalty and dedication he had shown had not gone unnoticed and he was currently the first in line for a Warmasters post on the council when a place became available. It would give Gar'shan four close allies on the nine member council, all but guaranteeing any votes would be passed that the Supreme Warmaster required.

"What are they so cheerful about?" Jha'dur nodded at the crowd as Tor'han escorted her down the cleared path way, troops standing rigidly to attention on either side.

"They're welcoming you home, conqueror of the League." Tor'han grinned. "You've become quite the public hero while you were gone, there's talk of a statue."

She scoffed. "Only if we can fix the current situation. Does the planet know?"

"No, we've suppressed the information." Tor'han answered quickly. "That's probably why they are still cheering, nobody knows the real situation."

"So how bad is it?"

"Nightmare." Tor'han said, Jha'dur could count on him for honesty. "Third strike lost forty percent of its strength, the two line fleets about seventy percent."

"Truly?" Jha'dur gasped. "That's nearly fifteen percent of our entire navy!"

"The Drazi fleet outnumbered us about five to one." The Captain continued. "It is a massive fleet, as much as our whole navy but concentrated in one fleet."

"Where the hell did they get them from?"

"We think they've been mass producing them deep in their territory, the Supreme Warmaster also believes they bled the Narn border fleets dry to fill out the numbers."

"A risk for them, but it seems to have worked." Jha'dur considered. "How is Dar'sen?"

"Alive and at Tithalis." Tor'han relayed. "And absolutely furious, he was lead on a wild goose chase by Len'char."

Jha'dur froze on the steps or the War Council building. "What?"

"Dar'sen was ready to launch a pre-emptive strike, he predicted a Drazi fleet was massing." Tor'han explained. "Base don the numbers he couldn't have won, but he could have hurt them and delayed the attack long enough for us to reinforce and fortify Fendamir."

The Warmaster bared her teeth. "I'm going to kill him for this!"

"You need to get to the meeting Warmaster." Tor'han reminded.

She carefully gathered her composure, turned with a smile to wave out the crowds who cheered even louder, then stormed through the doors with blood on her mind.

The meeting room was as busy as it had been for a long time with six Warmasters due to attend, Sha'dur and Dar'sen had their duties on the frontline and would participate via video link while the Supreme Warmaster had been judged to ill to attend but would also use a link to cast his vote. Despite his elevated position in the interest of balance Gar'shans vote counted for the same as any other Warmaster unless there was an abstaintion in which case it could count as two. The Supreme Warmaster was there to direct the Council and steer through policy with the Council as a whole deciding to implement it or not. Jha'dur did not relish a council without Gar'shan's strength driving it on.

"I can't go past these doors." Tor'han said.

"Not yet anyway." Jha'dur nodded in acceptance as they stopped outside the Council Chamber. "I saw some ships in orbit under construction, new designs, do you know of them?"

Tor'han nodded. "You must mean the Sekhmets, six of them."

Jha'dur briefly searched her memory, the name falling into place. "Those ships were a proof of concept design, a vessel to take on the Centauri using recovered League technology."

"That's what I heard too."

"Well it's impossible, those technologies are decades away from integration." Jha'dur frowned. "I ran the numbers myself, improved lasers, rapid fire pulse weapons, fully integrated gravitic drives, even shields! Impossible for at least a generation or more!"

"There must be a mistake." Tor'han frowned. "Those ships are working prototypes."

"They work?" Jha'dur was surprised. "I read a report from my people in Research and Development, we're making progress on captured technology but not to the point of replication!"

"The development was being handled by a private corporation outside the military."

"Nothing is outside the military."

"The Corporation answers to," Tor'han sighed. "Len'char."

Jha'dur's face hardened again. "We're definitely going to have words about this."

"Good luck Warmaster." Tor'han saluted, then departed letting Jha'dur join the meeting.

Jha'dur descended the steps and took her place at the circular table, the rest of the Warmasters either seated already or present on the video monitors except for Gar'shan.

"Welcome Jha'dur!" Len'char grinned falsely. "Now, shall we begin?"

It annoyed her that Len'char seemed to be trying to take charge.

"When we begin is dictated by the Supreme Warmaster." She replied coldly. "We will wait for his word."

"Where is he anyway?" Sen'la asked grumpily from beside his associate Len'char. "Is the link working."

"He is stood right here." A voice snarled. "And he expects some respect from the council."

Len'chars face was priceless as the Supreme Warmaster made his way down the stairs and took his seat at the head of the council. He was painfully thin and gaunt with a shock of white hair replacing his once rich and healthy hair, but while his eyes were now more sunken they remained sharp and contemplative. Despite outward appearances Gar'shans mind remained a dangerous and practiced weapon.

"Supreme Warmaster." Len'char rapidly put on a fawning voice. "Is this wise? The doctors said you should not leave your quarters."

"I do what is required by duty." He sat down carefully. "And I answer to no man Len'char, not even you."

"I mean no disrespect."

"You mean very little of anything." Gar'shan retorted drawing a smile from Jha'dur. "While I still draw breath I still command in the name of the Emperor and Imperium. We face a crisis, Warmaster Dar'sen, current status?"

From the video link the Warmaster nodded and began.

"I have ordered the heavy fortification of the Tithalis system. I am holding my Strike fleet in reserve to launch an instant counter attack when the Drazi arrive, hopefully unbalancing thm before they can assume formation and commence their own attack."

"A good strategy." Gar'shan approved. "What forces do you have?"

"The survivors of Fendamir and the guard fleet from Tithalis."

"Assessment of the quality of these forces?"

"May I speak freely Supreme Warmaster?"

"I expect nothing less."

"The Line fleets from Fendamir are broken. Just over a third of them survived, too small a force to be an effective battle fleet. Additionally their morale is dead, they have lost what fighting spirit they had and now fear the Drazi."

"And the Guard fleet?"

"Untried in battle." Dar'sen answered. "And nervous."

"Planetary defences?"

"Weak."

"Ground forces?"

"Insufficient to hold without orbital resupply."

"Thank you Warmaster." Gar'shan turned to the council. "This council has grown complacent in my forced absence, and this is the price we pay for it."

Gar'shan did not raise his voice above a conversational level, but there was such a level of bitterness and contempt in it none of the council dared meet his gaze. Even Jha'dur who had done nothing wrong and could stare down entire League fleets felt tiny in front of the focused anger of the Supreme Warmaster.

"If you represent the best of the Dilgar then we deserve the death that awaits us." He continued plainly. "You rely on Dar'sen to hold the Drazi back but then overrule his judgement and in so doing bring this disaster upon us. For it is a disaster."

"Dar'sen could not have stopped this!" Sen'la piped up.

"He could have delayed it with a spoiling attack." Gar'shan replied calmly. "And that would have been enough for us to respond appropriately. The council overstepped its bounds when it ordered Dar'sen to stay at Mokafa. Warmaster Jha'dur, who is the Grand Strategist of the Imperium?"

"You are Supreme Warmaster." She answered.

"What does that mean?"

"That all decisions relating to overall military strategy must be approved by you, the Supreme Warmaster."

"And that includes when to seize planets and when to assault enemy fleets?"

"Yes Supreme Warmaster."

"You see?" He addressed the council. "Jha'dur understands the way of command. She understands that some decisions are not hers to make. That is way Jha'dur is feared across the League. It is why Dar'sen is respected by the Drazi. It is the reason we have been successful in this war. Now you see what happens when the Way of Command is disregarded. You may well have killed us all."

"Surely we have the forces to defeat them? Dru'tal added his thoughts.

"After the losses we've just sustained?" Dar'sen countered. "Not on this front."

"He's right." Jha'dur agreed. "We're going to have to draw forces from the planetary siege forces and other fronts to counter this Drazi offensive. It jeopardizes our entire schedule."

"But if we work fast we can turn them back?"

"Perhaps." Gar'shan said. "But we shouldn't have to. Len'char, why did intelligence not see this build up?"

All eyes turned on the head of covert operations, who seemed to physically shrink in his chair.

"Our, our long range scans found no evidence."

"And your spy circles?"

"We have no spy rings in Drazi space."

"No spy rings in Drazi space." Gar'shan repeated, mulling over the words. "Did you not think this could put us at a disadvantage?"

"It was too difficult to try and…"

"Difficult!" Gar'shan exploded out of his chair, planting both fists hard on the table. "You are a Warmaster! Your job is meant to be difficult! You failed grossly to predict this attack and you wrecked our one chance of stopping it before it became a disaster! Five million Dilgar Naval crew and Soldiers on Fendamir are dead because of your laziness!"

His tirade stunned the room, for all his frailty he still had the voice of a flag officer. He held Len'chars gaze for a long few moments before weakness caught up with him and Gar'shan bent over and started coughing, a grating racking sound that emanated in his lungs. Jha'dur was the only one to come to his aide.

"I am fine." He said, but his face was a shade of purple and his veins bulging across his temples. He eased back into his chair and took a few steadying breaths.

"What have the doctors said?" Jha'dur whispered so the council could not hear.

"Enough." The old leader grunted. "Enough to know that I will not live to see this future we are building."

"I want to see their reports." She whispered. "I have some skill in this field, I am near a break through which might help you."

"It can wait Jha'dur." Gar'shan said appreciatively. "I have other work for you, now return to your seat, we must continue."

She sat down beside the Supreme Warmaster, watching him with some concern as he gathered his composure.

"Unfortunately." Gar'shan sighed heavily. "To remove you as a Warmaster requires an undisputed unanimous decision by the council, and I know that there are some who owe you favours and will not remove you." He turned to Dru'tal and Sen'la. "For any reason."

"Well," Jha'dur smiled coldly. "There are other means."

"There will be no assassinations or accidents." Gar'shan stated firmly. "We are Dilgar, not Centauri. We will follow the laws of the Imperium and that means we are all accountable."

"They have already corrupted the rules of the council." Jha'dur accused.

"There are other ways." Gar'shan raised his hand. "And killing each other in this time of war is not acceptable. I am, however, using my authority to remove Len'char from his post. You will no longer be in charge of Military Intelligence though regrettably you remain on the council."

"Who, may I ask, will replace me?"

"Somebody who understands secrets, that is all."

Len'char dropped the issue, he utterly resented it but he was still in a position to wield great power, though his authority was greatly diminished.

"You will have no authority over fleet matters." Gar'shan continued. "Nor will you leave Omelos. You, Len'char, are no longer a link in the chain of command. You are an observer to our war, not a part of it."

Len'char nodded grimly, but said nothing. Jha'dur caught his eye, and ever so subtly made a slashing motion across her neck, then winked at the former Intelligence chief.

"Now to the matter at hand." Gar'shan fell into his old commanders pattern, brief to the point sentences delivered in clear and concise tones. He was in his element and in these moments it was clear why he had made it to Supreme Warmaster. Jha'dur may have had his skill but Gar'shan was a more measured personality, he didn't have the tint of arrogance his protégé had, he was cautious and deliberate but when need arose utterly ruthless. A perfect example of Dilgar belief.

"In broad terms we need a two tier operation into Drazi Space, Warmaster Jha'dur, I believe you have a strategy?"

"Yes sir." Jha'dur took the floor. "Simply speaking it is an extrapolation of the pin and flank tactic. Warmaster Dar'sen will remain at Tithalis with heavy reinforcements and hold against the expected attack. He will draw in the Drazi and pin them. As he does so I will strike coreward, sweep around Drazi space and come upon Zhabar itself. The Drazi homeworld."

Her plan was answered by gasps.

"You can't be serious!" Dru'tal choked.

"I am entirely serious." Jha'dur replied. "I do not propose we simply return to the status quo, I propose we use this as an opportunity to destroy the Drazi once and for all as I have done to every other League power I have fought."

"You want to bypass Drazi space?" Warmaster Yor'lothan looked concerned, he was a senior member of the council who was a staunch traditionalist, but to his credit no friend of Len'char.

"I will launch a hook around their border." She said. "Which will require a blitz through Far League space."

""This is foolish!" Sen'la shook his head. "To bypass Drazi space you will need to cross three or four other Empires! You'll bring the Hurr, the Grome, the Pak'Ma'Ra and Lumati all into the war against us!"

"All minor powers and all easily defeated with minimal resistance." Jha'dur dismissed. "I have some expertise in this area Sen'la."

"Ridiculous."

"I can knock the Hurr, Grome and Lumati out in an afternoon, their fleets are either weak or small. The Lumati are advanced but woefully ill suited for a major offensive. The Pak'Ma'Ra are scattered and disorganised, a single surprise thrust at their home will take them off guard and beat them before they can mass a force."

"All assumptions!"

"The great powers of the League are on their knees thanks to these tactics." Jha'dur said icily. "The Hyach, Abbai, Brakiri and Cascor are individually greater than these far League powers combined. The victory is not in doubt."

Yor'lothan asked the next question. "So let us say you are successful, then what?"

"Zhabar is hard to reach from Omelos, every jump route is guarded, every system fortified. We can flank these worlds and will only need to siege one major system before Zhabar is opened up before us."

"Your supply lines will be enormous and easily interdicted."

"I won't need them." Jha'dur answered. "I can be at Zhabar in a month and my fleet train can bring enough supplies for that time with me."

"The Seige of Zhabar will need intense resources though."

"By the time I am there I predict the Drazi will pull back their ships to support their homeworld, leaving Warmaster Dar'sen an opportunity to launch a direct attack against significantly weakened Drazi defence forces. Our two fleets will converge at Zhabar, crush the Drazi fleet on our terms, then level the planet."

"What is your predicted timescale?" Gar'shan asked.

"Three months from today until Zhabar is ash." Jha'dur said. "But I will need full strategic freedom, and I will need Warmaster Dar'sen to hold Tithalis throughout all that time."

"Can you do that Dar'sen?" Gar'shan asked.

"If those are my orders, I will hold Tithalis while I still have one ship and one breath."

"I am deploying the home fleet to join you." Gar'shan said. "They will double your combat power, they are fresh and veterans to a man or woman."

"They will be a great help Supreme Warmaster."

"It will be a month before I can begin the counter attack." Jha'dur said. "I need to redeploy my fleet and with the loss of the Fendamir supply depot I'll need to bring in munitions from Mitoc."

"Then you must face the Drazi alone for a month Dar'sen." The Supreme Warmaster informed.

"With the expected reinforcements, and now seeing the Drazi tactics and skill, I am confident."

"If Tithalis falls we don't have the forces available to protect Omelos." Gar'shan spoke grimly. "If they break through Dar'sen, we all die."

"I understand Supreme Warmaster."

"There is no one better suited to this battle than you." Gar'shan nodded. "You have my confidence and free reign over local strategy. Fight this battle as you see fit."

"And you Jha'dur." Gar'shan nodded to her. "Also have my approval."

"With respect," Dru'tal spoke up. "This decision represents more than Grand Strategy, it is a major new direction of the war."

"It is a matter of strategy." Jha'dur answered.

"It is more than that, you are bringing us into a war with four powers who are currently neutral!" Sen'la agreed. "This is a matter for the whole council to decide, we must vote on this plan."

"Vote on it?"

"And if it does not pass, I suggest we use Yor'lathans plan which requires a gradual advance forward without bypassing any systems."

"Slow and methodical." Gar'shan said with mild concern. "A fair strategy, but time consuming and it does not give us the chance to deliver a single knock out blow to the Drazi."

"The Centauri way of war." Jha'dur noted.

"I have served with the Centauri." Yor'lathan stated. "And found their methods most effective."

"So our mine." Jha'dur said in reply.

"Then we must vote." Sen'la called. "For Jha'durs plan, and against?"

Of the nine members four voted for Jha'dur, five did not.

"You are missing a great opportunity." She said coldly. "You suffer one defeat and become terrified of risk?"

"The vote is cast." Gar'shan said. "It is the law. We will confine the attack to Drazi space."

Jha'dur set her jaw and glared at Dru'tal, who refused to meet her gaze.

"We will employ a two tier defence and attack." Gar'shan said. "And Warmasters Dar'sen and Jha'dur will retain full strategic command of the front."

"But within the Councils limits." Dru'tal emphasised. "No crossing borders."

"As the council wishes." Gar'shan agreed reluctantly.

"Well consider this." Jha'dur returned to the debate. "We have lost something more than lives and Fendamir, we have lost terror. The League thought us invincible, but now they see we can be beaten, that we can be driven back. It will embolden them, it will encourage them to become proactive and attack us before we attack them. It could do the one thing that would hurt us most, it could unite the League."

"The League hates each other." Sen'la remarked. "I see no danger."

"They hate us more." Jha'dur replied. "And when it comes to survival there is only one rule, kill or be killed. Which would you choose?"

Sen'la did not answer.

"You don't want to antagonise these Far League worlds? They are already our enemies and one day we will fight them. Better to do it now before they are organised and united."

"The Council has spoken." Dru'tal growled. "leave them."

"We will look weak." Jha'dur continued. "That we cannot afford."

"I am afraid the debate is over." Gar'shan said. "First Strike will redeploy and prepare to assault the Drazi. "Third Strike will hold Tithalis with local forces and the Home Fleet." He turned to the video link. "Warmaster Sha'dur?"

"Yes Supreme Warmaster?"

"Will you be able to maintain the Rimward offensive without Jha'dur's forces?"

"I believe so sir." He replied. "The major powers have fallen and the schedule demands a pause for the supply lines to keep up and secure our holdings."

"Very good, maintain your attack against the smaller powers." Gar'shan said. "When the Drazi are beaten Jha'dur will return and you may destroy the last of the League forces while Warmaster Dar'sen deals with the Lumati and others nearby."

"Then that is our plan." Jha'dur accepted uncomfortably. She knew her plan was better, it was a tried and tested doctrine of terror and impact. Shock and Awe as she had read in a book of human history, and Gar'shan knew it too. But the Supreme Warmaster was simply first among equals, he was not a dictator and could not impose his will. He chaired and directed the Council, he could not unfortunately override it.

"It is a sound plan." Gar'shan said. It was unambitious and far too cautious, but it probably would work and restore the Drazi front to its earlier state. It would have to be enough. "The council is dismissed, you all have your duties except for Len'char. Now, go and prepare for battle."

The council began to rise and leave.

"Len'char." Jha'dur spoke up. "Can I have a word in private?"

He looked with a hint of nerves at his allies Dru'tal and Sen'la.

"Scared?" Jha'dur grinned widely.

With a huff he sat down again opposite her.

"When you are done," Gar'shan stated. "I will see you in my quarters Jha'dur, we have some business to discuss."

"Of course sir." She nodded. "This will not take long."

The last officer out closed the door behind him, isolating Jha'dur and Lenchar.

"You have been busy." She stated. "Making a lot of mistakes lately."

"None that cannot be quickly corrected."

"Hard to correct the extermination of the Dilgar species." Jha'dur countered. "Or did you forget why we are waging this war in your lust for power?"

"You are light years away fighting the League." Len'char said. "You don't see the big picture."

"On the contrary, being so far from the halls of power gives me an excellent overview." She smiled. "When I look at the Supreme Warmasters medical file, what will I see?"

"I don't know."

"Really?" Jha'dur frowned. "Malnutrition, Lung infection, signs of anaemia and a weakened immune system? Very serious. Yet there is no history of such diseases in Gar'shans family. Isn't that odd?"

"I wouldn't know."

"You are aware, Len'char, that I am an expert in poisons and biological agents, and if I find even the slightest hint of poison in the Supreme Warmasters blood, well somebody is going to be advancing medical science in Lab 9."

Lab 9 was Jha'dur's personal research post on her Dreadnought. Nobody came out in the same condition they went in. It was rumoured she kept the eyes of every creature who passed the doors, shelves filled with jars containing them.

"Well there are many suspects if it is poisoning." Len'char said conversationally. "How would you know who did it?"

"Well I'm not one for lengthy investigations." Jha'dur remarked dismissively. "I'll just kill everyone on the suspects list, they won't be missed. By the way, who do you think is at the top of that list?"

Len'char stood up. "Goodbye Jha'dur."

"Oh, there is one more thing." She also stood and walked around the table, cutting him off from the door. "The Sekhmet class, one of your friends is involved in constructed them. How?"

"How what?"

"How is it possible?"

Len'char smiled widely. "Lets say I've got friends you have no idea about. In fact you might want to start showing a little more respect to me, I wouldn't want you to have an accident."

"Ahh, I see." Jha'dur looked down. "Well, if that's the way it will be."

She began to turn away, but then in a blur of speed spun completely around drawing her ceremonial sword in the process. With a scrabe of blade on scabbard she took the silver weapon and drove it with all her weight deep into Len'char's stomach. The Warmasters eyes went so wide the could have fallen from their sockets, his jaw dropped and for a moment he was so surprised he forgot to breathe.

"Never." Jha'dur whispered softly. "Never threaten me again."

She pushed the sword deeper, right up to the hilt. She was so close her cheek was almost touching his, and over his shoulder she could see the red stained blade protruding from his back. There was a dull patter as blood dripped on the hard floor.

Len'chars mouth worked as if he was trying to get over his shock and speak.

"Don't say anything." She whispered, her breath tickling his ear. "Just listen. If I find poison in the Supreme Warmasters blood, I will invent a punishment for you that the devil himself would cry at. Is that clear?"

He seemed to nod in the affirmitive.

"I have been ordered by the Supreme Warmaster not to kill you, that is why your head is right now still on your shoulders. You cost us millions of lives. There will be a reckoning, this is not it."

Len'chars breath gasped in his throat.

"I will lead this council." She continued whispering. "And if you want an easy life I suggest you put a gun to your head before that day and do the honourable thing, at least for once in your life."

She stepped back, the sword still wedged in her opponent.

"I am not allowed to kill you, but the Supreme Warmaster did not say I can't hurt you. And believe me," she yanked out the sword, Lenchar falling hard to the floor as she did so. "You will wish you were dead."

With an utterly calm expression she took a napkin from the table and cleaned her sword as she stepped for the door.

"The wound is not fatal provided you get medical help, it is just a reminder." She called over her shoulder. "I suggest you take it for what it is, a warning Len'char. Do not cross me or the Supreme Warmaster. The results would be unfortunate."

She opened the door and waved a guard in.

"Warmaster Len'char has accidentally stabbed himself with my sword. Send for a medic."

"Yes Ma'am." He saluted.

Jha'dur returned her sword to its scabbard with a huge grin, then walked to her next meeting. At least she had found some enjoyment today.


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 41

50

Fendamir System

Drazi occupied.

Warleader Stro'kath screwed up the report and threw the sheet of paper to the ground. The ball was caught in a breeze and skipped for a while on the dirt beneath the table and away into the open plains beyond.

Fendamir was a habitable world but the climate was dry and dusty with a few hardy plants and animals calling it home alongside a previously rather large Scientific research colony. The bare bones of that structure were visible from Stro'kaths vantage point but he mostly ignored them.

"The Dilgar did not leave much behind." He grunted in annoyance as if the ruins were left as a personal insult.

"They were thorough in their attack sir." His second Captain To'mak stated. "They have had six months to level this world, it is amazing any of our people survived."

Stro'kath agreed, he hadn't expected to see any survivors from the start of the war, but with the liberation they had started emerging from deep caves by the dozen, then hundreds and then thousands. It was still a small percentage of the pre-war population but every life was a victory and built Drazi pride.

"Now it is ours again." The Warleader remarked with bitterness. "And we must ensure it never falls again."

"The other fleet leaders are assembled, they are ready to discuss a defensive strategy."

"The other fleet leaders are morons of the highest order." Stro'kath grinned. "This is not about defence, we need to press the advantage."

"They are wary of over extending our forces sir." To'mak cautioned. "They were not enthusiastic about another attack."

"Then I will convince them." Stro'kath gathered his bulk and turned on his heel. "Where are they?"

"That pre-fab sir." To'mak pointed at a bland building that had recently been unloaded from a shuttle, beside it a nest of dishes and antennae were being assembled. "Sir, you are going to be diplomatic aren't you?"

Stro'kath chuckled. "Of course I will! I'll give them a chance to change their minds first, then I'll beat it into them as a last resort."

It wasn't exactly what the Captain had meant.

There were four officers gathered around the traditional thick set table completely obscured by layers of reports and system maps, Stro'kath recognizing most of them as Fendamir and Tithalis navigational charts. The reports were the traditional mix of status indicators, ship readiness, resource levels and casualties, the symphonies of a General's life.

The Leaders themselves were hunched over reading the same chart, an atlas of the surface of Fendamir marked with the locations of former cities and stations.

"The poles are the obvious location." General Indriz spoke gruffly. "Heavy particle cannons there will have excellent firing arcs."

"We need to try and rebuild the satellite grid." His neighbour General Yanli added. "But getting the resources will be very difficult."

None of them looked up as Stro'kath walked in which did little to improve the Warleaders mood. He stood at the opposite side of the table for a few moments before deciding to grab their attention. He slammed his fist down hard on the table, making it jolt and filling the simple building with a loud retort of squeaking metal.

"That was unnecessary Warleader." Yanli said in exasperation.

"I will decide what is necessary." Stro'kath said. "For example, assaulting Tithalis immediately."

"We have been discussing that." Yanli stated. "And do not believe it is prudent."

"Discussing?" Stro'kath rocked on the balls of his feet. "My apologies, I was looking for the Drazi Fleet command, not a Student Debating Society!"

"At this time the risks…"

"I am Warleader of the Drazi people, I issue orders, not suggestions."

"The risks are unacceptable." Yanli finished.

"Operation Retributive Strike is clear." Stro'kath held his temper. "We stop when we reach Omelos, not before."

"It is our considered opinion that Tithalis is a trap." Indriz spoke. "We've seen it before."

"The Dilgar fight us, then withdraw." Yanli picked up. "We give chase and are ambushed. It is a feigned retreat."

"There is nothing fake about this." Stro'kath growled. "We have given them a defeat! We must capitalise before they recover."

"We believe it is a trap."

"What you believe means nothing to me." Stro'kath dismissed. "Prepare your fleets for battle."

None of them moved.

"The order was clear." Stro'kath glared at them. "Or do you want me to assert my authority the old fashioned way." He slammed his fists together. "One at a time or all together, either way I'll be the only one walking out of here."

"We've spoken to central government, they agree." General Yanli remarked.

"And as we all know the Government is the foremost collection of strategic thinkers in the Galaxy!" The Warleader scoffed. "I will make it simple, follow me or be relieved."

"Orders from the Government supercede your own, Warleader."

"Not in times of war." Stro'kath said firmly. "They appointed me to this position, now they have to put up with it. Prepare your ships."

"We will not." Yanli said in defiance. "Our orders are to fortify and prepare to hold a counter attack."

"The Dilgar are going to concentrate their best ships here, we won't be able to hold them back without massive losses."

"The fleet stays." Yanli dismissed. "If you disagree you should take it up with the Government."

Stro'kath glared at them for a moment longer, then with a disgusted growl stormed out of the pre-fab building.

Outside Captain To'mak didn't need to hear Stro'kath to know how it had gone.

"Complete fools." The heavy Drazi snapped. "They'll throw away this victory in their cowardice!"

"Cowardice sir?"

"They are still scared of the Dilgar, they don't want to lose their careers to a defeat!" He laughed grimly. "Fools."

"They will not support an attack then?"

"No, the bean counters on Zhabar have ordered the fleet to fortify this system." Stro'kath exhaled. "We sit and let the Dilgar regain the initiative, and we both know there is nothing that will stop the Dilgar War machine once it starts rolling."

To'mak shook his head. "Short sighted idiots. What do we do?"

"Do?" Stro'kath paused. "We attack of course!"

That took the Captain by surprise. "But our orders…"

"Are not binding, I outrank those politicians, at least that is tradition when we are at war inconvenient as that is to those scale-less weaklings!"

"But the other Generals won't follow you."

"I command a third of the fleet directly, enough to fight Warmaster Dar'sen." Stro'kath stated. "By our actions perhaps we can shame these curs into following us into battle." He shook his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when a Drazi General refuses to attack. See what the Dilgar have done to us?"

"Sir, the Dilgar will be heavily reinforced."

"Not yet Captain, right now its just the survivors of the Fendamir Garrison and a guard fleet at Tithalis, easy prey. The Strike fleet is the only true opposition and it is badly mauled. We can beat them before their reinforcements arrive."

"But when they do show up…"

"Then we will have the rest of our fleet shamed into advancing on Tithalis ready to meet whatever Warmaster they send our way." He smiled. "I think we can guess who that will be."

"Deathwalker." To'mak said the name with a mix of fear and loathing.

"The greatest enemy of the Drazi people." Stro'kath said. "Perhaps the greatest enemy any of our worlds has ever faced."

"No one has beaten her in open battle."

"She hasn't fought me yet." The old Drazi grinned.

"She has a reputation for breaking Empires in the course of an afternoon."

"Then she better adjust her timetable, I have other plans." Stro'kath savoured the prospect of battle. To him a warrior was only as good as his opponent and could only prove himself the best by beating the second best. Right now Jha'dur was the most successful warrior in the galaxy, and by defeating her Stro'kath would become legend.

But for now he would settle for Dar'sen, a leader who in Stro'kaths opinion eclipsed the Generals he had just been forced to endure.

"We're leaving. Prepare the fleet."

"Our destination Warleader?"

The Drazi shared a crooked smile. "Where do you think?"

3rd Strike Fleet

Tithalis Star System

Dilgar Occupied

They were as prepared as they could be. Every ship in the nearby area capable of fighting had been assembled regardless of its status or experience. The ranks of the garrison forces had been bolstered enormously, heavy warships had been deployed in their famous Pentacans in loose groups able to converge or disperse as required while frigate and fighter patrols scoured the system for clues as to when and where the Drazi would come.

The Tithalis garrison was a strong one, not so powerful as the ships at Fendamir had been but still a potent force. It's main disadvantage was an inexperienced crew coupled with lighter than standard ships set up for simple patrol and guard duties. Few of them had anticipated fighting a pitched battle so early in their careers, but every one of them had the confidence and self belief needed for victory.

Mixed in with these ships was the Fendamir garrison, or at least what was left of it. On the plus side most of the surviving ships were larger types, Cruisers and Destroyers, that had weathered the Drazi storm and come through in one piece albeit with some extra holes. Likewise their crews had learned more in those few hours than years worth of peace time service, war was a hard teacher but it was by far the most efficient.

Those ships formed the centre of the Guard fleet pentacans, Dar'sen had tried to split up the experienced Fendamir ships to give some back bone to his untried crews placing the Tithalis ships in escort and support positions around the Fendamir survivors. He hoped it would be enough to keep them together and fighting, there was no retreat today.

His best ships were naturally the Strike fleet under his direct command, those he grouped together in a loose formation above the plane of the garrison fleet ready to plug any gaps and counter the main thrust of the expected Drazi attack. He would be frugal with them and commit only when necessary, these ships had to stay alive to guarantee victory.

He knew his crews were keening after being forced to retreat. They hated it, it was a stigma to their honour and he appreciated that most of his officer would happily have fought to the death. Today they might well have the chance. The Supreme Warmaster had ordered Dar'sen to hold the system and that was what he had resolved to do until help arrived or death took him. No surprises, no radical tactics, no feints and bluffs. He didn't have the time to set them up and most of his forces didn't have the skill to pull them off.

It was going to be a stand up fight, ugly and brutal. Most Dilgar lived for that.

Dar'sen preferred subtlety to brute force, wars of manoeuvre and skill where a battle could be decided before the first shot was fired. It had become a trade mark of his to gain the perfect position from which to attack or defend from and he had a knack for turning battles due to careful deployment and ordering of reserves. Even in such a simple and hastily assembled defense as this he still planned to fight his personal fleet like an ever flowing river, never staying still, sweeping forth with crushing power and then melting away from reprisal.

The key to victory however was not Dar'sens fleet but the several hundred vessels travelling at emergency speed from Omelos. The Home Defence fleet, last line of defence for the Imperium had been deployed with the Supreme Warmasters direct order and had the numbers and skill to turn the tide, if employed correctly.

Fortunately the skill and loyalty of the Home Fleet was unquestioned, and as Gar'shans own command there was no dange rof political meddling reducing its combat effectiveness as had happened in other lesser fleets. The ships and commanders of that force were all veterans, mostly from First and Third Strike fleets which was recommendation enough, most battle group commanders had trained under either Dar'sen or Gar'shan at one time or another.

The Home fleet was a potent force, and while its edge was not so keen as that held by the Strike fleets that had been in constant battle for months the Home fleet was more than a match for any standing force known in the Galaxy. Dar'sen was positive it could defeat a Drazi fleet even coming in cold from Omelos.

The problem was Fendamir was much closer than Omelos, and the Drazi ships notably faster than Dilgar vessels, though paying for that with less endurance. The Drazi fleet would arrive first, and it would be up to Dar'sen to hold them and spend his ships wisely so that when the Home fleet did show up they had only to fight a gutted and broken Drazi fleet, even if it cost every Dilgar ship in Tithals to do it.

That at least was how Dar'sen had seen the battle going, he doubted he could stop them but he could hurt the Drazi enough to give the follow up fleets a sound chance of victory. But the Drazi had not come, it had been weeks since they had been driven from Fendamir and there was no sign of the follow up attack, nothing.

Dar'sen had expected to be up to his neck in Sunhawks less than four days after retreating, but so far it hadn't happened. He could only guess at the reason, as Dilgar Military intelligence was more a concept at this point than a reality, but expected that supply problems or internal divisions were holding up the attack. Probably the latter.

He had studied Drazi, and though he did consider them an inferior race, as all were to the Dilgar, he had found plenty to respect in their culture and history. Ill led as they might be Drazi were undeniably brave and he admired the simplicity of their lives. He had been surprised by the subtlety in some Drazi poems and actually found he preferred their music to his native world's version, thou of course did not make that fact known openly.

Gar'shan believed knowing your opponent was vital in planning for war, it was the thing he emphasised most to his followers and the ones who embraced it had met with great success. It had been that way for Dar'sen and especially Jha'dur and today would be the ultimate test. The Drazi fleet commander was smart, he understood warfare and had given the Dilgar their worst defeat to date, fighting him would not be easy. But he was still Drazi, still a product of his worlds long and fierce history and Dar'sen knew he could predict his moves, if he got it wrong it could cost the war.

"Warmaster, we have a transmission from a Thorun flight in grid sixty."

Dar'sen snapped out of musings as though he had been doused in ice water. "What does it say?"

"It's an energy signature, looks like a jump point."

"Withdraw ships from that sector." Dar'sen ordered. "Sound battle stations and order the fleet to combat readiness."

His crew was already alert and Battle stations was more a formality than a necessity by this point, but it had the affect of adding more focus to the men and women crewing the Dreadnought. The ready fighters drifted fearlessly out of the launch bay while vast cannons swung back and forth as the gunners made sure the tracking systems were calibrated correctly.

The orders filtered quickly through the system among both ships and planetary based units. Ground batteries armed themselves, space stations made ready and hundreds of obsolete fighters took off and made to join their far more effective Thorun cousins. It was a full deployment, each of them knew the price of failure and the way they were expected to fight and die. Not many expected to live past this day, including Dar'sen himself.

"All battle groups have reported ready." Captain Ca'ra reported efficiently. "Planetary systems are set up for long range support fire, fighter wings standing by."

"Hold at this time." Dar'sen said flatly. "What's happening in Sector Sixty?"

"I'm reading six jump points." The Sensor officer stated. "No more."

"Scouting party." Ca'ra guessed.

"I'd say so." The Warmaster agreed. "But it tips their hand, the main fleet will be just behind. Hyperspace readings?"

"Nothing sir, probably jamming, there could be a whole fleet out there or nothing at all."

"He's out there." Dar'sen sensed a cold smile forming. "He's looking for our reinforcements."

"Home fleet is still hours away." Ca'ra spoke.

"Can we raise them?"

"No sir. The jamming."

"Of course." The fleet commander nodded. "The Drazi will be coming in force very soon, all ships prepare for close combat."

His prediction was annoyingly accurate, sometimes it would have been better to be wrong. This was one such time.

"Multiple vortexes!" The sensor officer yelled, his voice matching the pitch of warning sirens. "Sectors two and three!"

"Right on top of us." Dar'sen found himself appreciating the nerve of the Drazi commander, no one would willingly get into a close range duel with a Dilgar fleet, the overgunned feline ships excellent in such point blank slugging matches. The Drazi leader must have been eminently confident in the skill and discipline of his forces.

"Is he insane!" Ca'ra shouted in disbelief.

"Just bloody minded." Dar'sen replied. "Evasive action, avoid incoming Jump points at all costs." He slapped the nearby gunnery officer on the back. "Concentrate fire on the nearest vortex, I want them to come out of hyperspace into a wall of energy fire."

The Drazi had taken a massive risk, but it had the potential to be a devastating tactic. They had made their hyperspace exit in the front ranks of the Dilgar fleet, the scout ships providing the necessary telemetry to link Real space and Hyperspace and predict where the Vortexes would form. Stro'kath was hoping that the opening jump points would catch as many Dilgar ships as possible in their formation, the sudden energies and shredding of normal space would prove instantly destructive to anything caught within a few miles of the entry point.

It was far from an exact science and the Drazi jump points drifted from their supposed location, but with so many opening at the same time it was inevitable some would have the desired effects. A score of tightly packed Garrison ships were ripped apart by the unreal blue funnel dropping into their midst. Ships were reduced to unrecognisable hulks, some of their mass simply missing, erased from reality by the tear in space.

Those ships that were not caught in the destructive energies lost formation, diving or accelerating to avoid an incoming Drazi squadron. The mutually supporting Pentacans of the Garrison forces began falling apart and turning the linear lattice of ships into a dispersing cloud.

The Strike fleet recovered instantly and their long years of training and experience paid off, but the Garrison fleets were much slower and would not be able to regain formation before it was too late.

Once again Dar'sen found reason to respect his opponent, though it was a bitter sensation to experience.

The Drazi ships now began emerging, the bulbous grey hulls transiting reality with a sharp deceleration as physics took hold and forced the newly arrived ships to abide by its terms. Some ships with Jump points too close to each other collided, bouncing off their comrades hulls and fighting to regain control before the Dilgar picked them off. Some flew into debris, crashing headlong into stony cold oblivion while others waded into a firestorm. Most however made it through cleanly and immediately altered course and sought out targets.

Those that emerged close to the Strike fleet had the worst time, finding themselves facing a prepared and enthusiastic barrage of fire that intersected at the event horizons of the various entry points. Dar'sens command ship gunned down three Sunhawks before they had a chance to even take evasive action, their thin hulls useless against the Dreadnoughts barrage.

"Recover formation!" The Warmaster ordered. "Standby to engage in support of the garrison fleets!"

"Warmaster," Ca'ra grabbed his attention. "I ran a count on the Jump points, this is only a fraction of the Drazi fleet."

"Just a first wave." Dar'sen realised. "Sacrificial ships to break up our formations and sow chaos." He smiled. "This Drazi thinks like we do."

There was a shudder as a Drazi ship exploded nearby, its end rocking the Dreadnought with a final expenditure of power.

"Fleet is almost reformed sir."

"Excellent." Dar'sen praised the speed of his fleet and their control. "We hold here for a short time, lets see what this Drazi springs next."

"The Garrison fleet sir?"

"They can hold by themselves for a short while, I want the Strike fleet uncommitted until we see the main thrust of this attack." The Warmaster smiled slowly. "Wait for him to make his move, then we'll attack him directly and see exactly what this new Drazi fleet is made of."

Drazi Cruiser Stormhawk

Hyperspace

Stro'kath grunted in grudging respect. "He isn't falling for it, he's ignoring the bait."

"This Warmaster is better than his comrades." To'mak remarked. "It will make our victory sweeter."

"Exactly right Captain." Stro'kath said approvingly. "Defeating a weak minded enemy is degrading, it's practice. But this, this Captain is true Warfare. Death here is a true honour and nothing to be ashamed of, it is not a failure, just destiny." He slapped his hands together. "But to earn victory against such an opponent, that my friend is to live as a Drazi of old. This war will become legend and we must live up to what is expected of us. We must be heroes."

To'mak registered a swelling of pride within, Stro'kath was right, history was being written by them, something which future generations would look back on with awe and day dream about being a part of. This battle was the essence of being a Drazi, a just battle against a skilled but totally reprehensible enemy. He pitied the officers in the fleets that had been ordered to stay behind that they would not be a part of this.

"Signal the rest of the fleet, we commence the attack." Stro'kath boomed, his voice deep and powerful enough that To'mak half believed the fleet would hear him without the need for radio channels.

"Aye sir, jump engines online, beacon locked."

"Subtlety and deception are aides to victory, but do not win wars." Stro'kath intoned, his words carried from ship to ship. "True victory is delivered only by honour, bravery and blood. We have all bled for our people, today we claim what we have bled for. Remember you are Drazi, remember the blood in your hearts is the same as that which ran through the heroes of legend. We are heroes one and all, today we prove it. Engage jump engines and commence attack."

The prickles of light began piercing the blackness, emptying bright beams of energy and radiance into the material universe. Each point of light was recorded, locked and then targeted by whatever guns Dar'sen could muster, his strike fleet braced for the assault.

Stro'kaths main force arrived on the flank of the garrison forces further away than the first wave, most of which was still duelling with the superior Dilgar force and eagerly anticipating these reinforcements. About one in ten Drazi ships had a jump engine, the expensive and energy intensive devices were not common on the small Drazi ships and their installation invariably led to a degredation of a vessels combat power as weapons were deleted to make room for the jump systems.

These jump capable ships often ended up as control vessels, opening the way in or out of hyperspace for a wing of conventional Drazi ships and then hanging back and providing objective data and Electronic Warfare support while the better armed ships did the knife work. In this instance however the situation was dire enough to warrant these high value ships also being thrown into the front line to aide their shipmates in battle, a risk but one the crews gladly accepted. Battle was nothing for a Drazi to shy away from regardless of his role in the Navy.

Stro'kath's fleet was the best the Drazi had, in terms of maintenance, training, skill and resources. Each ship was fully crewed and the damaged units fully repaired since the last engagement. As an additional weapon Stro'kath had also made sure every ship that had the ability was loaded up with missiles. The Drazi did not use missiles much, preferring to fight at close range where stand off ordnance was of little value, but the Warleader was a practical officer and wasn't going to discard any weapon that increased his chance of victory purely on personal taste.

Before the Drazi even made it out of hyperspace they were firing missiles, a massed barrage designed to sweep the way ahead of them clear of Dilgar targets. The Garrison fleet took the brunt of the attack, their inexperienced gunnery officers already desperately busy with the first wave of Drazi had a hard time redirecting fire and paid dearly for it. Dozens of ships on the perimeter were struck by the high yield weapons melting through armour and flaying the Dilgar ships before their destructive arrival. The Strike fleet and more experienced members of the garrison force were largely unaffected, for their size Drazi missiles were quite slow and easily targeted by point defense systems. However the toll taken on the new crews was a grim one and keenly felt by the already outnumbered defenders.

With the way open the main Drazi fleet followed the missile barrage at full speed and immediately broke into squadrons, each one breaking off in a random direction to confuse Dilgar gunners. Again those that arrived close to the Strike fleet found their entry points criss crossed with well aimed fire and took losses the instant they arrived, but for most units the Dilgar fire was sporadic and badly timed letting them form up almost without incident.

"Close the range!" Stro'kath snarled energetically, his blood thumping through his veins. "Get under their guns! Strip those warships to the bone and don't stop!"

The strike ships were set up to attack from different directions, squadrons of nine or ten backed up by some fighter cover swooping in and strafing a Dilgar ship then immediately moving on to the next. No stopping, no slowing down, no loitering on a target. They would hit one ship and hopefully hit it hard enough to put it out of action in one pass, if not they would leave it for another strike group. Stro'kath was adamant that they did not try and engage just one ship until it was destroyed, it would force them to fight at the speed of the Dilgar ships robbing the Drazi of perhaps their biggest advantage, the speed and agility of their Sunhawks and Warbirds.

A portion of the fleet detached and went to help the first wave in its battle with the garrison forces, while the majority followed Stro'kath into battle against the smaller but far more deadly Strike fleet which was by now charging down towards the miasma of Drazi cruisers in their loose formations.

Dreadnought Terror

Dilgar Command ship

"Hold formation." Dar'sen eyed the incoming force, the Drazi weren't going to give him an easy target. "Accelerate to flank speed, same course."

"That'll take us right through the enemy formation sir." Captain Ca'ra checked.

"Yes it will, straight through and out behind them, then they'll have to turn around and chase us." Dar'sen smiled. "Which gives our gun crews a better chance to shoot them."

"Aye sir, orders relayed."

"Then open fire and hope the Drazi flinch and get out of our way." Dar'sen chuckled. "Or else this will be painful."

The Dilgar Strike Fleet followed up their commanders orders and pushed on towards the rapidly approaching Drazi forces spitting gunfire and missiles at each other. Fighters buzzed around the warships waiting for their chance to earn some glory while deep in the steel bellies of each warship regular crew members could only tense and listen to the roar of power transfers and clangs on the hull to judge how the battle was going.

The first of the Sunhawks spun wildly out of control as vast areas of hull were punched or blasted away by the Dilgar fire, the forward hulls popping apart like paper bags in a black shower of flotsam. One ship lost its wing thrusters, slewing it suddenly sidewise into its wingmate. Both ships locked together, trapped in a tangle of wreckage forming one big uncontrolled target. The Terror administered the final blow, obliterating both ships with a pair of high yield nuclear missiles.

Neither side altered course, neither side gave in during this grand game of chicken. The loose hunter groups of Drazi ships and the rigid Dilgar Pentacans collided in a convulsion of explosions and hammering impacts, whole squadrons vanishing amid the flashing fireballs and ruined vessels.

The first three Pentacans didn't last a second, even with their superior warships they were swamped by ten times their number of Drazi ships cutting them down with particle weapons and the odd missile. Likewise the leading Drazi cruiser squadrons stumbled into the well planned crossfire between Dar'sens ships and were gored by the wide variety of weapons arrayed against them.

The Drazi fleet broke up and wove in and out of the Dilgar pentacans, each formation bristling with guns and throwing out destructive energy in every direction. Most Drazi vessels could suffer only a handful of its before destruction and casualties mounted very quickly. Some ships did not bother taking evasive action, plowing headlong into the nearest Dilgar ship and driving deep into its hull before exploding, consuming both ships and crews in oblivion.

The Dilgar did not slow down, pushing through the Drazi despite their losses and clawing through the fleet with the primal brutality of a wild animal fighting for its life.

Dar'sen was pitched forward from his chair and hit the deck heavily as a Drazi ship scraped along the Dreadnoughts lower hull, a scream of tortured metal audible even through the thick armour of the command deck. Only skilful piloting by the helm officer had avoided a lethal head on collision.

"Warmaster!" Captain Ca'ra leapt up.

"Man your station!" Dar'sen commanded firmly before spitting a mouthful of blood and two broken teeth. "Damage report!"

Ca'ra sat down, he looked shaken but was still in control of his senses. "The Mass driver is completely destroyed, hull breach on every lower deck."

"We can fight without a Mass driver." Dar'sen remarked and pulled himself to his chair. "The hull breaches aren't important, damage control parties will wait until they are needed for something vital."

"Aye sir."

He paused. "I don't feel our guns firing."

"We're through the Drazi fleet sir, our rearmost ships are clearing now."

"Good, aft weapons fire at will, they'll be turning after us soon. I want the fleet ready to execute a wheel manoeuvre."

"Aye sir."

A fleet wide wheel involved each Pentacan making a full hundred and eighty degree turn while holding its tight formation, a difficult order to fulfil but for a professional fleet like Dar'sens it was a well practiced trick.

"Drazi coming about!" Ca'ra said. "They're splitting their fleet!"

"How so?"

"Reading three distinct groups, one is coming head on, the others are going to loop around our flanks."

Dar'sen smiled a bloody grin. "Smart Drazi. Commence wheel, concentrate on the force directly ahead and kill as many as we can, no matter the cost."

"No matter the cost." Ca'ra repeated stubbornly, that was in the end why they were here.

Stormhawk

"They are preparing to meet us head on again."

"Good." Stro'kath relished the conflict. "This Dar'sen knows how to fight his ships. But we will not play his game, flanking forces attack at will. Lead fleet prepare to break off."

The front Drazi fleet including Stro'kaths flagship was staring down the gun barrels of the Dilgar fleet newly turned and blazing for them once more. It wasn't subtle but it played to the Dilgar strengths of well armed ships and disciplined crews. Stro'kath knew he would win in a frontal fight but his losses would be unacceptable, so rather than meet Dar'sen he would draw him forward and then evade with his lead fleet while the flanking ships performed a classic pincer move.

It would be a thing unheard of for a Drazi warrior to refuse a frontal attack, and Stro'kath expected his Dilgar opponent to be taken greatly by surprise. Indeed even if Stro'kath had given the order to break most Drazi Captains would continue anyway, their lust for battle overriding their sense of tactics or even self preservation. Fortunately Stro'kaths hand picked commanders were as confident in his orders and as disciplined as any Dilgar crew, he was banking on it. They were the elite of the Freehold, Leagues ahead of any other Drazi fleet and they were proving it.

The Dilgar engaged at maximum range, but with the closing speeds of the two forces that distance was rapidly closing. A dozen ships ahead of Stro'kath exploded in searing light forcing the flagship to drop suddenly to avoid the wreckage.

"Hold course, fire at will!"

The attack ships opened up with their bow guns and began taking their toll on the Dilgar, numbers countering the better armament and weapon arcs of their enemy.

"Thirty seconds until the fleets meet." To'mak said. "Twenty five."

"Hold steady." Stro'kath snarled leaning so far forward he was on the very edge of his seat.

"Twenty!" The din of the engines and shudder of guns almost drowning the Captains words, soundproofing and insulation being ideas the Drazi laughed repeatedly at.

"Come on Warmaster." Stro'kath hissed. "Keep coming this way."

"Ten seconds!"

"Break, break now!" Stro'kath commanded. "Clear the forward arcs and keep the forward batteries on target!"

The Drazi ships moved like a shoal of fish swinging their insect like ships in different direction and flaring their engines with a burst of emergency speed. Stro'kaths forces parted in the face of the Dilgar fleet, many still falling to accurate fire, and found themselves above and below their enemy relative to the Dilgar plane of travel.

Stro'kath however was not fleeing and he had ordered the ships to keep firing. As Drazi weapons were fixed on the forward arc it meant the ships had to cut their engines and drop their bows to keep the guns on target, a move which put tremendous stress on both ships and crews. More than one ship snapped in half as battle damage weakened their structure and caused massive hull failure, but most held together and swept on either side of the Dilgar strafing as they passed by at high speed.

Dreadnought Terror.

Dar'sen restrained his reaction as the Drazi fleet melted away and redeployed with the sort of skill and control he believed was the sole providence of the Dilgar navy. At least if he was to die this day it would not be to an inferior enemy, these were the best warriors he had ever battled. It was an honour.

"Enemy are about to penetrate our flanks!" Ca'ra said. "Incoming fire from all sides!"

"All ships cut engines, defence pattern alpha. Fighters free." The Warmaster replied with utter calm.

On his word the Strike fleet rapidly altered formation, from the rough delta shaped formation each Pentacan held to a more spherical pattern drifting through momentum alone. The warships rotated in place so that no matter which direction the Drazi chose to attack from each Pentacan had at least one ship ready to shoot back with its forward arcs, and in practice would mean an attacker would face a wide range of primary and secondary weapons from the Pentacan as every ship could bring at least one gun to bear.

At the same time the fighters finally broke away, switching from defence to attack and going for the Drazi warships now instead of fighters. They rushed forward with no thought for personal safety and met the Drazi at full speed proving why they were so feared as the nimble Thoruns orbited enemy ships deluging them with guns and missiles.

The Drazi fleet poured through the Dilgar formation like water through a grate, ebbing and flowing around the Pentacans and sometimes just overwhelming them with fire and numbers. Both sides were going all out for the kill not caring if it cost their own lives in the process, they just needed to take down as many of their opponents as they could before the end.

No mercy was displayed on either side, crippled ships were callously destroyed, life pods were filled with fuel or explosives and made into makeshift mines or missiles, it was a fight to the death. Both sides were desperate to hold this system, it was crucial to the war. Whoever held Tithalis could dictate the entire Drazi front and both leaders knew it. It was about more than pride, it could spell the difference between extinction and survival for both sides.

The Terror blasted a pair of Warbirds out of the sky as they circled in on the flagship, globules of molten metal spattering the Dreadnought and leaving a rough texture of cooling metal on its upper hull. A Sky Serpent fighter crashed through a section of the hull damaged by the earlier ramming attempt causing more internal damage while the point defences barely stopped a nuclear missile strike.

"Enemy ships are concentrating on this position!" Ca'ra yelled.

"Redeploy Pentacans forty one and Fifty six to cover us." Dar'sen ordered. "Set up a crossfire, if they want us they'll have to fight for the privilege!"

The Heavy cruiser beside the Terror vanished in a rolling explosion, the flames billowing in almost slow motion as the great warship heeled over and disappeared under a concentrated attack leaving a gap in the Flagships screen.

"Three Sunhawks bearing down!"

"Take them!" The Warmaster ordered unnecessarily.

The ship was already locking on and in a blink turned one attack ship to silver confetti. The other two however were too close and were upon the Terror before she managed a second volley.

They did not however ram the ship, instead they rapidly decelerated and spun so their bellies banged heavily into the wounded battleship, spears of metal with thick cables on the end harpooned the flagship and pulled taught as the two Sunhawks latched on, one on the upper hull and one below.

"Oh hell." Ca'ra let slip.

"All hands this is the Warmaster," Dar'sen announced. "Prepare to repel boarders."

The one thing Drazi enjoyed more than fleet battles were personal battles, often between one another. When Drazi fought Drazi it was largely symbolic, a cultural right and while it was often fought until one or another was senseless it was incredibly rare for anyone to suffer serious injury. This was not the case when the Drazi went to war and could unleash their full fury on their enemies, and right now the sheer level of fury the Drazi held towards the Dilgar was incalculable.

Drazi Marines were not as well equipped as the Brakiri army or as professional as Earth Force or as physically nightmarish as the Gaim. But they were fanatical and highly experienced in the field of close combat making them ideal for the narrow confines of an enemy warships insides. Each individual Marine wore an eclectic mix of armour and protective gear ranging from full environmental suits to nothing but a shirt on their backs. Likewise weapons were equally varied with some Marines bringing Pulse rifles or shotguns and others just knifes or maces. Usually they would carry both ranged and melee weapons preferring the former to clear a breach point and the latter for the up close and personal job of clearing the ship of enemies.

As a counterpoint Dilgar Marines wore fully sealed body armour allowing the command staff to vent atmosphere from the decks they were defending and were armed with short barrelled particle bolt rifles or fletchette guns along with grenades and knifes which often served as bayonets. In this instance they were also joined by nearby crewmen armed with everything from guns and knifes to bent pieces of metal and repair tools.

The Drazi ships punched through the hull in three seperate locations each to try and avoid choke points. The Drazi were natural masters of boarding actions to the point where in addition to simple breaching pods they had also fitted full sized warships for the role perfect for deploying large numbers of troops to a high value target, and as fleet flagship the Terror certainly qualified.

The hull sections were blown through with cutting charges dropping the heavy hull plates heavily onto the deck, in one case smashing through the floor. They were followed by the first screaming Drazi soldiers, the most fanatical and frenzied of the assault troops who dropped through the breach and ran forth to find an opponent. The second group was more restrained and better equipped, these troops would perform the main tasks of securing the engine room and bridge while the less disciplined colleagues caused death and chaos throughout the vessel.

The Dilgar sealed off the breached areas and set up defensive points where the Drazi were expected to move towards. They didn't have long to wait. The first Drazi thundered around the corner with a roar of challenge and rage, wielding a thick triangular blade in each hand he rushed the prepared defenders screaming obscenities at them. Completely unfazed the Dilgar troops dropped him in a heartbeat before mare Drazi arrived.

Unfortunately the ship was still in battle meaning most of the crew needed to be at their stations shooting down more breaching pods and assault ships leaving the Marines badly overstretched. It was not long before a Drazi party broke out and started a running battle through the ship.

"I want close escorts down here now!" Dar'sen roared. "Where is the sixtieth Pentacan?"

"Wiped out sir." Ca'ra replied. "The Drazi are concentrating on this part of the line, no one can fight through to us!"

"We need to free up the gun crews to support the marines, to do that we need clear skies!"

To emphasise his point the ship jolted as it was rocked by a Drazi ship exploding nearby. The Warmaster felt a lot like he was stood alone at the top of a very tall building being pushed from all sides. He was losing his balance.

"Fighter squadrons." He said suddenly. "Recall the nearest two wings that still have nukes and put them on close patrol."

"Sir, they won't last long pinned to us with such intense combat going on."

"They don't need to, just long enough for us to regain the ship." By fixing the fighters to a particular area Dar'sen was taking away the one thing that would keep them alive, their ability to rapidly evade concentrated enemy fire. "Get them here now, then turn out every crew member to fight the Drazi."

Within a minute the fighters had taken up the defense, effortlessly destroying breaching pods and putting anti ship missiles into any larger vehicles. The crew of the Terror were quickly armed, organised by department and sent into the fight. Through the corridors the crackle of energy and thump of grenades reverberated mixing with the scent of spilled blood.

The Dreadnought was sealed for battle which meant airtight doors cut off any easy access through the vessel slowing the pace of the boarding parties. The Dilgar Marines were hitting them hard but were well matched by the Drazi troops who were putting up a hard fight and executing a well thought out plan. Small groups of Drazi were scattered through the ship sabotaging systems and tying down defenders while the best troops made for the Bridge flattening any resistance in their path.

A squad of Marines rapidly set up a barricade of small arms boxes and tables on the approaches to the bridge, no sooner had they done when the far doors creaked and sparked as the system was overridden and forced open. The first three Drazi through the door were hit by deliberate and well aimed fire, they were dead before they hit the deck plates. Their comrades held back and took cover behind the heavy door, peering round only to fire a badly aimed burst of energy weapon fire at the barricaded Dilgar. Marines.

Both sides took the next logical step together and primed grenades, swiftly hurling them at their enemies with such timing the explosive devices passed each other in mid-air. The Dilgar reacted fast, bolting away from the Barricade and finding alternate cover while one of the Drazi heroically threw himself down on the Dilgar grenade letting his comrades charge forward while the Dilgar Marines were preoccupied.

The two explosions filled the corridor with smoke and shrapnel, destroying the simple fortification and wounding a small number of combatants. The Dilgar recovered quick but the Drazi were running at full tilt screaming at the top of their lungs. They were met but full automatic fire but it was too late, they ran into the Marines like a train slamming them to the floor or against walls and letting knives do their quick work. Then they made the last run to the massive doors protecting the bridge.

Captain Ca'ra watched it all on the internal cameras. "The Drazi are at the door."

A few muffled thuds sounded as the door took the few rounds fired at it.

"They'll need more than a gun to break through that." Dar'sen dismissed. "Get some Marines here, and I mean now Captain."

"Aye sir, I have two full platoons converging now." He replied heatedly. "A few minutes."

"They might be too late." Dar'sen rose from his chair. "Look at that."

The Drazi were carrying a heavy device the the door, heavy enough that it took six of them to move it at an ungainly pace. They dropped it in front of the door and extended four spikes from left and right, then aimed them at the thick door.

With the press of a button the device fired thick darts with cables attached into the doors and hull on all sides, a similar principle to the harpoons holding the assault ships to the hull. Pulleys in the machine began to work, bracing against the wall it began pulling the doors apart.

"Everybody arm yourselves." Dar'sen ordered. There were twenty people on the bridge of which only two were Marines and only half had any sort of side arm. "Find some cover and be ready."

Dar'sen had the traditional sword and elegant energy pistol given to Warmasters as part of their uniform, like Jha'dur's they were decorative but eminently functional and Dar'sen was considered something of an expert with both. He smiled sideways slightly as he stood by his chair facing the door wishing he'd followed Jha'dur's example and recruited a body guard, one of her Spectres would be a useful ally at this point.

"They do not take this ship while any of us breathes." He said simply as he drew his sword. "If it falls make sure our escorts know what to do with their last nuclear missiles. This ship will not become a Drazi prize."

"Orders sent sir." Ca'ra said, his own pistol charged and drawn.

The doors ground haltingly apart as the Drazi machine forced the pinions apart.

"We fought like Dilgar should today." Dar'sen said. "Marines are on the way, don't stop fighting now." He pointed his sword at the door, the first Drazi face raging at the gap. "For Omelos!"

The door split apart letting the tide of blue and purple bodies fall in. At once they met a volley of fire as the armed crew pumped rounds into the boarders dropping them to the deck, some writhing in pain others completely still. Those who followed stumbled over the corpses, slowed down and became easier targets for the defenders, the two Marines and Dar'sen in particular taking a toll of the Drazi.

One of the attackers avoided the bodies by just leaping over them, hitting the deck in a roll and rushing to his feet in front of a Marine. Before the Dilgar soldier could react the Drazi had shoved a thick blade through his chest and was heading for Dar'sen whilst drawing a stubby falchion style short sword.

The Warmaster was in the middle of reloading his hand gun and only his own sword to defend him, it would do. There was no way he could match the Drazi for strength so did not even try, watching as the alien swung the blade in a massive overhead cleaving strike aimed at splitting the flag officer in two. Dar'sen side stepped at the last second and used his blade to slightly nudge the Drazi strike to the side temporarily unbalancing the attacker. With the simplest of effort he twisted the blade back and skewered his assailant through the side before he had even stood up straight again, the master crafted blade meeting no resistance despite the Drazi body armour.

In the few seconds it took to defeat the swordsman several more Drazi had piled through the bridge which a half dozen more laying lifeless on the floor. The Sensor officer split the skull of a barely coherent Drazi soldier with a wrench before two more drove knives into his back. The last Marine emptied his rifles power pack with a long burst dropping four enemies before charging at bayonet point into the rest with a screech of defiance.

Two Drazi charged Dar'sen, no doubt recognizing his stature from the ornate uniform. The Warmaster remained totally unfazed by their blood curdling screams, calmly reloading his pistol, raising it and firing twice as the Drazi arrived less than two feet from him. Both slid to the ground on either side of the Warmaster, acrid smoke wisping up from neat holes in their foreheads.

Beside him the gunnery officer was lifted into the air and thrown down to the floor, hitting the deck with bone splintering force. His attacker raised a club to finish the job but never had the chance, Dar'sen lancing his sword between the thickly protected Drazi ribs. On the other side Captain Ca'ra kept firing into the doorway, his left arm bloody limp while his right was held out still gripping the pistol in his good hand.

With a sudden burst of blue energy the doorway emptied, there were a few screams from beyond answered with chattering gunfire before it went silent.

"Bridge?" A gruff voice called. "Hold your fire!"

A black suited Marine peered around the corner, noting the stack of bodies at the threshold.

"Marine." Dar'sen lowered his hand gun. "Are we clear?"

"Yes Warmaster, the main Drazi parties are neutralized. We are mopping up stragglers."

"Don't let me keep you." The commander nodded and let the Marine take his unit elsewhere.

"Warmaster," It was Ca'ra. "We're running out of fighters."

"Get the gun crews back on station." Dar'sen cleaned his sword on the shirt of a dead Drazi. "Resume firing all batteries."

"Aye sir."

"Do you need medical help?"

Ca'ra looked at his arm. "It will keep sir, I should take the gunnery command, Commander Tas'lo has been badly injured."

"No, take sensors." Dar'sen sheathed his blade. "I'll take the weapon console."

The Warmaster stepped over the bodies littering the deck and dropped into the chair familiarising himself with the layout.

"Are you sure sir?" Ca'ra asked with trepidation.

"I was gunnery officer for Gar'shan when he was a mere Commander, all that's changed since then are the size and number of guns I have at my command. Now find me a target."

"Aye sir." Ca'ra accepted and turned to his sensor screen. "Warmaster," The Captain smiled. "You won't believe this."

Dreadnought Fury

Flagship, Dilgar Home Fleet.

"Warmaster Dar'sen, please respond."

War Captain Tor'han rubbed his chin with pent up rage, the scene of devastation before him almost too much to believe. The Garrison fleet was faring better than expected with the more experienced officers holding the newcomers together as Dar'sen had hoped, however this was because most of the Drazi fleet was busy with the Strike fleet as its priority.

It was hard to make out individual Dilgar ships in the maelstrom of streaking hulls and heavy electronic warfare signals thrown up by both sides to confuse targeting sensors. The Drazi were a cloud morphing and changing as the surrounded the Strike fleet and picked it apart, a long field of debris marking the path of the battle. It was hard to imagine anything surviving in the heart of that battle yet judging by the constant and intense explosions the Strike fleet was still there and still giving hell.

"Sir, got something!" his sensor officer said. "It's the Terror, she's still fighting!"

"Alright, lets get in there and give them a hand. Full attack, line us up and take us in head on. Fire at will but watch your targets, avoid friendly fire and try not to collide with anything."

The Home Fleet swept forward, a wave crest of intense fire preceding it and ravaging the heavily engaged and by now exhausted Drazi. Some of the squadrons turned to attack but they were so busy fighting Dar'sen and so split up they could not concentrate enough force to make a dent in the new battle fleet.

Reluctantly Stro'kath ordered a withdrawal and a regroup to prepare for another strike.

"Message on the comms sir." An officer said. "It's the Warmaster."

"Put it through." Tor'han sighed in relief, the Dilgar could ill afford to lose an officer like Dar'sen whose skill was judged as second only to Jha'dur. Some would even rate him higher.

"Captain, by the gods I am pleased to see you!"

Tor'han laughed. "We had an invitation to this party, hope you don't mind us turning up early."

"Mind?" Dar'sen laughed in return. "You may have just saved us the war! How did you get here so fast?"

"We rode the limits of the beacons, shaved six hours of our time." Tor'han replied. "When we lost contact with the jamming I guessed the attack was imminent."

"You were right." Dar'sen agreed. "Again, excellent timing. I owe you a debt."

"All Omelos owes you a debt Warmaster for holding here long enough to pin the Drazi." Tor'han said. "I advise you retire, we can take it from here."

"No you don't Captain." Dar'sen shook his head. "My fleet can still fight, we will support your advance."

Tor'han nodded gladly. "An honour to fight beside you Warmaster."

"Thank you Captain, now redress your formation and prepare to advance."

Stormhawk.

"Do we retire Warleader?" To'mak asked apprehensively.

"We do not have the numbers to take on the Dilgar Home fleet alone." Stro'kath said bitterly. "If those cowards on Fendamir had obeyed orders instead of hiding we could have gutted both fleets and left Omelos defenceless!"

"Dilgar ships are massing for an attack sir."

Stro'kath growled dangerously. "Then we will meet them. Win or lose we can hurt them badly enough so they will never retake Fendamir."

There was a sudden beep on the ships communication station, one that signalled a priority message.

"It's General Indriz!" To'mak couldn't hide his surprise.

"General," Stro'kath opened the channel. "Where are you?"

"At the edge of the system." The female Drazi replied. "I have secured the sixth and seventh planets with my fleet."

"Excellent work!" Stro'kath praised.

"I could not stand by while you fought alone." She said. "My conscience would not allow it, but Warleader even combined we cannot win this battle."

"We can!"

"Our losses would be too great." Indriz answered. "Even if we beat these fleets, what of Deathwalker?"

The Drazi leader lowered his head, she was right, even if they defeated this force they would be easy prey for Jha'dur. They had to reinforce, gather the other fleets and prepare for another battle. One that would pit the full Drazi fleet against the best the Dilgar could offer led by the reviled Deathwalker."

"You are right." Stro'kath resigned himself. "Hold your position, we are on our way."

He ended the transmission and looked at To'mak.

"Sir, orders?"

"Withdraw to the sixth planet." Stro'kath said. "We rearm, repair and try again with more ships."

"The Dilgar Home fleet…"

"Will not follow us with Indriz in the system, they will wait for Jha'dur and her fleet. Send the orders Captain, today has been a glorious battle but there is more to come for us." The old warrior smiled. "Cheer up Captain, the next battle we face will be the defining fight of our time, the best of the best matching each other."

"Very well sir. Coming about."

Stro'kath watched the Dilgar fleet begin to recede into the distance.

"Well fought." He whispered quietly. "But next time, you are mine."


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 41

Chapter 51

Omelos

Night had descended as Jha'dur made her way to her quarters, a clear sky spanned the heavens offering an unparalleled view of the planets moon and the ancient constellations beyond. She could name all of them, and from the square in front of the Council chamber could identify each of the home systems of the League stood out towards the rim. She could not see Drazi space from her current location, she was in the wrong hemisphere for that, nor could she identify the system where the Dilgar navy was preparing a desperate defence against the next step in the Drazi counter attack.

She could se Brakir, and Abba low on the horizon. She could make out the blue tinge of the Vree home system high in the inky dark, and finally just beside the Moon was a new star, one she hadn't much cared about until a few months ago.

Sol, the Humans called it, home of the Earth Alliance. A tiny speck far from the conquered League at the edge of known space. Beyond Sol was the unknown, the Rim of space where myths and legends became reality. Stood alone in the freezing night she had yearning to visit those far worlds and bring some light to them, a pure and simple wish just to see what was out there, a desire she had long believed buried behind the concrete walls of the Warmaster she had become.

She shivered, a chill of memory racking her spine for a moment. The night was not cold but still she felt a chill at her core, a complete lack of any warmth. High above points of light moved, a carpet of distant engines signalling the deployment of the reserve fleets from the defences around Omelos to the developing battle on the Drazi border. She had friends in that fleet, a rarity in her life.

There were few in the world she respected enough to pass time with, and fewer yet whom she felt secure with enough to talk of matters beside the war. She could count them on one hand. Two of them served with the Homefleet and would for the first time now be serving under her direct command. It was an odd sensation, for while she cared for the lives of all her crews as valuable assets she could still order them to certain death for the right goal. But now she wondered if she would be reluctant to order in ships knowing people she really cared about might be killed.

It was perhaps the ultimate test of her credentials as a Warmaster, and she found doubt there.

She returned the salute of the door guards and entered the chambers, a temporary room had been set up for her on the first floor until her shuttle was ready to leave. It occurred to her that she had no home to call her own, not truly, just an assortment of barracks, depots and warships. She had made them pleasant enough, but on a very fundamental level it wasn't the same thing.

She passed the council chamber, noting an area of dried blood on the floor where she had stabbed Len'char. That brought a smile to her lips briefly. He had survived of course and was currently in a military hospital half a mile away no doubt plotting revenge. Jha'dur remained largely unconcerned, he couldn't touch her or anyone she cared about. His time would come.

There was plenty of activity opposite the Council Chamber itself, an extensive control room humming with electronics and quiet conversation monitored activity in the Tithalis system, it would not be long before the Drazi attacked, perhaps a few hours. She would return and monitor the battle from here while her fleet assembled but now she just wanted to sleep.

The door slid open as she ran her identity card through the lock, an appropriately well protected door amid bombproof walls revealing a traditionally spartan room. It was a simple guest quarters without adornment or decoration, just a table, a few chairs and separate rooms for sleeping and washing.

She was too tired to take advantage of the shower and was resolved to retire immediately, the top button of her uniform jacket already popping open as the blast door clanked shut behind her.

Tired as she was Jha'dur's reactions were still as sharp as any military officer, and especially those with a feline ancestry.

So when she heard the loud popping noise from her living room she had her side arm drawn and raised in a heartbeat. The lights rose up to full intensity revealing a Dilgar male stood openly in front of her couch and desk decked out in a fleet uniform with an impressive number of decorations and rank badges. He was young and clearly in his prime and he regarded Jha'dur with an expectant look. In his hands was a newly opened bottle of brandy, the source of the miniature explosion.

"Good to see you too Warmaster Jha'dur." He offered.

"You shouldn't sneak into peoples quarters." She safetied the sidearm and replaced it in her holster. "Even if you are first born of the Supreme Warmaster."

Battle Captain Dal'shan nodded in acceptence. "I thought in the current climate it was safer to use a little stealth, you aren't very popular with a lot of people."

Jha'dur released a cold smile. "How is Len'char?"

"Not dead, which is a pity." Dal'shan shrugged. "He's run off to his Villa, no one has seen him since."

"If he has sense he'll stay there."

The Captain grinned. "Sense? Len'char? I would call that a delusion of adequacy."

The Supreme Warmaster had three sons, and as expected they all followed their fathers expectations and joined the military, Naval command, Fighter command and Army command. Naval service was considered by most to be the most prestigious way to serve Omelos and command of a warship was justly called the pinnacle of achievement. Dal'shan had risen fast to the lofty heights of Battle Captain, the equivalent of an Earth Force Fleet Captain, and commanded the prestigious Vindictive Battlegroup centred on the Dreadnought of the same name.

Like all of Gar'shans progeny Dal'shan had achieved this post by merit alone, receiving instruction from his Father and the inner circle of the household including the future Warmaster Dar'sen. The Captain had earned his rank through skill, luck and a series of bloody battles against Llort raiders and more recently full scale war with the Drazi.

Dal'shan was a rising star, the best ship commander in the fleet and tipped for high office one day, Jha'dur could see him following his Fathers foot steps and leading the Dilgar to glory as a future Supreme Warmaster. He would be an able leader if it came to pass.

"How is Ari?" Dal'shan moved to the couch, Jha'dur following and relaxing. "I heard he disobeyed an order."

"He let his conscience be his guide." Jha'dur answered as she dropped down fatigued to the couch. "He has too many ideas in his head, all those operas and legends he reads."

"That's Ari." Dal'shan chuckled. "Glory seeker, like a Champion of old."

"This war is no place for Champions."

"It is exactly the place." Dal'shan contradicted. "What are we if we cannot embrace such purity?"

Jha'dur gave him a sideways glance. "It is not the Dilgar way, and you know that."

"It is not our way." Dal'shan corrected gently. "You and I are soldiers, we kill for a living and deliver victories. Honour and glory mean nothing to me, just success and survival."

"For us and our race." Jha'dur agreed.

"Exactly, but there has to be something afterwards." The Captain poured two glasses. "Something more than just killing, a higher ideal."

"Ari is an idealist, you are right there."

"You and I Jha'dur, we make the present. People like Ari make the future. His way isn't our way, it is a far, far better way."

"But it won't beat the League." She pointed out.

"That's why you and I are here." Dal'shan nodded. "And why people like us and my Father direct our people. It isn't Ari's time yet, there is still murder to do."

"To answer your question," Jha'dur took a glass. "He is fine, he took a little dose of radiation fighting the Cascor but nothing I could not fix. He'll be fighting for me when the Fleet arrives."

"Then we both have business with the Drazi." Dal'shan raised his own glass. "A toast to Warmaster Dar'sen. May he remain immovable."

"Dar'sen." Jha'dur raised her glass then drunk. "He fought well at Tithalis and Fendamir."

"The Drazi seem to be undecided, wavering." Dal'shan said. "The new head of intelligence has intercepted some signals, they only sent a portion of their fleet to battle."

"Dissention in the ranks." Jha'dur grinned. "Never an omen of good tidings."

"I also understand the Narn are deploying to the Drazi border."

"They scent blood." Jha'dur guessed. "An easy conquest, with the majority of Drazi ships facing us the border is thinly defended. Watch them take a colony, I'd bet on Hilak."

"Might disrupt our plans, Hilak is a useful location for pressing the Drazi flanks." Dal'shan said. "Our plans call for it to remain in Dilgar hands."

"I'll see to it." Jha'dur said. "The Narn will back down from us, the Centauri are making moves near Quadrant 14 again, the Narn dare not commit a large force while they feel threatened by the Centauri."

The Captain laughed. "You read these aliens like a book, are you ever wrong?"

"Sometimes." She admitted. "I thought the Abbai would panic and flee. They fought well instead."

"Nobody is perfect."

Jha'dur smiled. "Speak for yourself."

Dal'shan took another drink and lowered his eyes, the body language quickly becoming more guarded. "I understand you have analysed my Fathers blood."

Jha'dur quickly understood why the officer had grown apprehensive. "I did." She confirmed.

"Did you find anything?"

"Nothing conclusive." Jha'dur shook her head in sorrow. "I am still working on it, it all seems normal but something feels very wrong about it. Your Father was never a weak man, at his age he should still be in his prime."

"I know he's been poisoned Jha'dur."

"Do you have proof?"

Dal'shan sighed heavily. "No, but I know it, instinct."

She nodded in agreement. "I ran all known poisons and agents, and I assure you my library on the matter is unrivalled. It is something new, the like of which no civilized race has encountered." She looked firmly at the Captain. "Whatever it is I swear I will find it, cure it, and formulate an appropriate response."

Dal'shan smiled coldly. "Whoever did this, I want them to suffer."

"I defined the word." Jha'dur stated icily. "I'm really hoping it's Len'char, I'd enjoy having him under my knife."

"Guilty or not, one of these days I expect you'll get your wish."

They sat silently for a minute, taking sips and contemplating the world unfolding around them. Jha'dur broke the moment.

"Are you still with Home Fleet?"

"Yes, my battle group is rearming before we join the battle."

"I've been assigned command of the Home Fleet alongside my own force, we will be fighting together."

"I look forward to seeing the master at work."

Jha'dur huffed. "The council has restricted my strategy, it will be a bloody affair."

"What else are we here for except to bleed?" Dal'shan asked rhetorically.

"To live." She answered simply. "That's the whole point, survival of the species."

"I'd prefer survival of the individual."

Jha'dur laughed slightly. "It would be quite nice."

"I understand Mitoc is our new home, sounds a beautiful place." Dal'shan mused. "No pollution, no war factories churning out filth, no nuclear wastelands. An Eden."

"I was careful in preserving it." Jha'dur spoke. "I was the first of our kind to set foot on it, it is perfect. A good place for your Father to retire to. I'll see to it."

"I have every confidence in your abilities." Dal'shan said. "Every confidence."

The Warmaster exhaled a long sigh. "Did you ever want to be a Champion? Like Ari?"

"Once I suppose, as a child." Dal'shan admitted. "Before I saw the reality of what we do for a living."

"Think you can ever go back to that?"

"Not after all we have seen and done."

Jha'dur nodded. "That's why I gave Ari a second chance. Of course he's a good pilot, the best I've ever seen, and of course he's like a younger brother to me. But mainly there's something about him I am deeply envious of."

"Envious?" Dal'shan frowned. "You're the greatest warrior of the age, a paragon of Dilgar teachings and culture."

"Soldier, not Warrior." She said hollowly. "I never had the desire to be a hero like you had, never wanted to be noble or just. I didn't care for chivalry or honour, I just wanted to survive and damn anyone who got in my way."

"Of course you did, and that's what made you what you are." The Captain said supportively. "It honed your wits and brought you to my Fathers attention. I know he promised your own Father to look after you, but he never gave you any special favours just like his own children. We all stand on our merits."

"Not Ari'shan." Jha'dur said. "He hasn't entered our world, he still lives in myths and legends, something I never knew and now never will. And you can't guess how much I want to."

"You are vital to the war effort as you are." Dal'shan stated. "The Imperium doesn't need a dreamer."

"Perhaps as you say, one day it will." Jha'dur smiled simply. "You know it's been a long time since we last met."

"Since before the Abbai battle." Dal'shan agreed.

"Then we have a lot of catching up to do." She placed the glass down. "Remind me why our last parting was so memorable."

Dal'shan put his glass on the table and leaned in close. "When is your fleet arriving?"

"Ten hours." She whispered quietly. "Can you think of a good way to spend that time?"

"I'm sure we'll find something." He leaned closer. "Something memorable."

Parris Island

United States

Earth

Dermot Hannigan felt his rear end slip a little on the faux leather seats as the bus took a corner a little too fast, the young man sat beside him also adjusting his feet to avoid travelling down to the floor.

"Dammit." The man snapped. "This is a bus not a Starfury!"

"Least Furies have seat belts." Dom huffed. "Would it kill 'em to fit some here?"

"That'd cost money." The man beside him said. "And when did the Senate ever give the military enough money?"

"Well least they got new fighters, I mean those Furies…"

"Oh yeah." The man grinned. "I'll be flying one of those soon."

"Me too, I hope." He extended his hand. "Dermot Hannigan, most people call me Dom."

"William Hague." The companion said. "But Bill will do."

"Good to meet you." They shook hands. "So I guess we'll be in the same unit?"

"I think so, the whole bus." Bill looked around. "Nice mix of people."

"You could say that." Dom looked over his shoulder. "Wonder if they want a fighter too?"

"I hear competitions tough." Bill advised. "Everyone goes for fighter command, they only take the very best."

"Guess that's us then." Dom grinned. "Can't wait."

The bus slowed for the gate, it's driver checking in with the guards before proceeding out of civilian life and into the realm of Earth Force. The armed guards watched the bus go by, locking eyes with any recruits staring out at them before returning to duty.

Parris Island was an old academy situated in North America and well known for turning out hardened troops. The complex was vast and split into two rough zones, the first was the area set up for basic training where civilian were turned into military personnel. The second was a more specialised area which turned people with basic training into genuine Earth Force infantry. It was also home to one of three Assault Ranger schools in North America, the other two being in Canada and the New Mexico deserts.

"Big place." Dom gazed from the windows as the Bus snaked through barracks and administrative buildings, all sharing the same low and simple look. He also noticed how pristinely white they all were. "How do they keep it so clean?"

"My guess," Bill Hague spoke. "They get us new recruits to do it on our of time."

"You don't think those movies are true do you?" Dom suddenly realised. "Where they yell at us all the time?"

"Nah, it's just Hollywood." Bill dismissed. "Probably."

"Probably?" Dom raised an eyebrow. "well so long as we don't get Sergeant Hurley. I heard he was a tough character from a family friend."

The bus ground to a halt at the edge of an open square four hundred yards across hemmed in by the same low barrack buildings. On the opposite side were three flagpoles, one bearing the flag of the Alliance, one the United States and the third the pennant of the Earth Force Marine Corps. While training new recruits was handled mostly by the EA Army Parris Island happened to be run by dedicated Marines. Likewise other training centres had specialist trainers, Alfredo Garibaldi had gone through Fort Bragg before joining his Airborne unit and Captain Franklin through Westpoint. Dom's arrival here was simply luck, either good or bad.

The doors to the bus opened and a man in full uniform stepped up, green fatigues and a black beret.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Parris Island." He smiled warmly. "I am Captain Morris and I'll be your commanding officer while you are here. Your welfare is my responsibility and if you have any trouble at all I will have the final say on it."

Dom relaxed a little, this man seemed surprisingly open and friendly.

"This isn't impressment, you are free to leave at any time." Morris said. "If you don't want to continue then Earth Force has no use for you, I'm sure Burger Palace will."

There was a hint of nervous laughter in the bus.

"Alright, in a moment I want you to step off the bus and form up on the white lines just over there. Any questions before you do?"

"Excuse me, Captain?" a female from a back seat raised her hand. "Are there any Starfuries here?"

"No." Morris said. "Anything else?" There wasn't. "Okay, up and out, quick as you can."

Bill and Dom were near the front and among the first out, finding the white lines and standing on them while their new comrades followed suit, the twenty young men and women creating two lines a few feet apart.

"Well this is okay." Dom smiled. "Guy's polite."

"Yeah, but I don't think we'll be seeing any fighters for a while." Bill said dejected. "Never mind, we probably do that after basic."

Morris stood ahead of them and looked up and down the line.

"Well you like a fine bunch, I'm sure you'll all pass basic."

The new platoon radiated smiles at that.

"Sir?" The same female raised her hand. "Will you be training us?"

"Me?" Morris laughed. "I'm just in charge, we have Drill Sergeants for that."

Dom and Bill's faces dropped in perfect unison.

"In fact, here he is." Morris turned and gathered himself as a short man quick timed across the court yard and slammed to a halt in front of the Captain, exchanging a crisp salute.

"Gunnery Sergeant Hurley reporting for duty Sir!" The new man announced.

"Understood Sergeant." Morris answered. "I've welcomed the platoon, they're all yours."

"Yes sir." Hurley acknowledged.

"Carry on Sergeant."

The two Marines saluted again before Morris turned and retired to his office. The brief jubilance of the recruits evaporating with them.

Hurley was a bulldog in a hat. He was small in bearing but had the sort of whip like build that could happily break skulls. He looked like the sort of man to fight dirty, who wasn't above anything if it meant victory. In short, he was a Marine.

"I am Gunnery Sergeant Hurley!" He bellowed at the recruits, a portion of them by now actually blanching. "I am your drill instructor, I am your guiding light, I am your doorway to meaning! Right now you are nothing! When I am through with you whatever has survived will have purpose! You will be members of Earth Force, heaven help us all!"

It was impossible to fully gauge the Sergeants age, Dom guessed middle aged but with the energy almost crackling from under the wide brimmed felt hat it was clear his actual years meant nothing.

"I know many of you will grow to hate me." Hurley continued. "This means I am doing me job, hate is a motivator! I thrive on hate!" He paced up along the front rank staring at each recruit in turn with intense eyes.

"You have many reasons for being here." He continued. "Scholarships, adventure, a desire to see the universe, hell maybe even boredom! I officially don't give a rats ass why you got on that bus, from now on you are all here for one reason and one reason only! To kill the hell out of the enemy!"

Dom heard somebody gulp.

"I don't care what any of you think, this is Earth Force!" Hurley started pacing on the second row. "Our job is to shoot people and I will make sure you can do that! I am the best at what I do, my recruits always come top, you will come top. You will scream, you will bleed, but you will succeed and I will motivate you!"

His pacing brought him to the end of the line.

"This is how it works, six weeks basic training. I will teach you left from right, I will discipline you, I will show you team work and I will teach you to kill. I will make you soldiers. After that based on your aptitudes and my recommendation you will go onto further training. Some of you will go to flight school, some of you will go to the fleet. If you are damn lucky, you might even become a Marine!"

"So we don't get Furies now?" a small voice asked.

"Who said that!" Hurley bellowed, tearing down the line. "Who spoke? Which one of you maggots interrupted me? Nobody huh?"

The same young woman raised her hand. "Sorry sir, I just…"

"You will not interrupt me! You will not speak unless spoken to!" Hurley yelled. "You will get your face on the deck and you will give me ten push ups!"

"Ten sir?"

"It's your first day, I'm going easy, now on the deck and don't answer back!"

The recruit began her punishment.

"This parasite raises a good question, why go through basic?" Hurley spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "Because basic training builds you maggots into men and women. What you learn here you take with you no matter where you go or what you do. Everyone in the force, from the guy who digs latrines on Proxima to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs himself can march in time and handle a rifle. Army, Navy, Airforce, doesn't matter. We all come from the same place. And that place boys and girls, is my little version of hell."

Hurley came to a halt in front of Dom.

"You're shaking private! Do I intimidate you?"

"Sir, a little sir."

"I am your ally! If you are scared of me how will you act when facing the enemy?"

"Well sir, I… I'll have a gun then."

For a long moment Hurley just glared, then suddenly moved away.

"A gun does not make you a soldier. Only one thing can turn you into a soldier, and that thing is me!"

He stomped to a stop in front of Hague.

"What about you? Are you ready to kill?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Is that a fact?" Hurley moved closer, the brim of his campaign hat a whisker from William Hague's head. "Are you ready to bring death and destruction to the enemies of Earth?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Are you ready to stand in blood and mud with all hell breaking loose around you?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Well great, guess you're already trained then sonny!"

"Sir no sir!"

"Correct!" Hurley stepped back. "Bravery will only get you halfway! It will get you into battle but not out. I will show you how to do the most important thing in war, Live!"

"Do you know what this badge on my chest symbolises?"

Amid the ranks of ribbons the Gunny had a number of silver badges.

"This badge indicates Airborne training." He pointed at each following badge on his chest and shoulders in turn. "This indicates Ranger training. This indicates Marine Assault training. This indicates Zero Gravity combat training. This indicates Vacuum combat training. These three represent merit in marksmanship, close combat and long service. These badges are history, they show what I have achieved and what any one of you can also achieve if you have the will!"

He took up his position in front of the serried ranks, arms rigid behind his back.

"You will never find a more rewarding call than the service of Earth. You will never find better people. When you wear the uniform you are part of a family, you have siblings and parents no matter what or where you came from. This is not something to be endured, it is a privilege to wear the uniform of Earth. It is an honour to serve, and it is with pride I bear these badges as a sign of my commitment to the security and safety of all our people."

He nodded slowly.

"It will be hard, you will have to earn your place in the Force, in the arm of your choosing and the role you will serve in. But once you have earned it, you will belong to something. You will mean something, and your actions will have a greater purpose. That is what it means to wear the blue, the green or the grey. Make me proud people, make everyone proud."

He smiled a hard smile.

"Now get your asses off my Parade ground! This is a place for soldiers and that ain't you yet! Get your trash and get in your damn holes! Move it!"

In a confused rush Dom grabbed his canvas bag and half ran, half stumbled into the barracks he would occupy. Inside he was greeted by the equally harsh looking assistant Drill instructors, both equally menacing and tough looking who would be working with the Gunny.

"Find a bunk!" The leading one yelled, a man whose skin had the colour and texture of an old boot. "Get to it maggots! Ain't no sea views here! Get your crap stowed and get out on the square!"

Dom didn't have time to truly register what was happening, the constant yelling, bustling of bodies and need to do things fast had him in a spin. Bill had enough presence of mind to claim the bunk next to Dom, a simple metal framed bed with dull grey and white sheets and a pillow that could have been made from old packing crates shoved in a bag.

They had no time to do anything other than drop their bags on a bed and fall out of the door, lining up outside as the Drill Instructors ran back and forth yelling at the mightily confused people to get in line.

"Line up! Line the hell up!" The instructor bellowed like a bull. His voice was deeper than the Gunny's, indeed this instructor could have been twice the weight of the more senior Sergeant, he was vast.

"It ain't rocket science sweethearts! In a damn line!"

The recruits fell in, gasping more with nervous terror than exertion.

"This is the sorriest looking shower of crap I have ever seen!" he roared. "If you were all that stood between us and the Narn I'd start painting spots on my damn head and get a fetish for leather!"

Despite himself Hague snickered.

"Glad you're enjoying this scumbag!" the instructor snarled. "I am Staff Sergeant Perkins! I will be in charge of your squad working with Gunnery Sergeant Hurley! I am your Shadow! When you look in a mirror you will see me! When you open a door you will see me! And heaven help you when you screw up, because I will be right there ready to put your face in the dirt and start you pushing!"

There was another snicker from somewhere in the squad.

"Who was that? I will tear the fat out of your lardy ass and make you mean!"

As expected the squad was silent.

"Fine, I guess it was Casper the Friendly ghost! Every damn one of you on your faces! Down!"

The squad lowered themselves.

"Doing push ups for the Corps is a privilege! Hot damn I love the Corps, and so will you!" Perkins informed them vigorously. "Now get pushing! One, two, three, four, I, Love, the Marine, Corps."

Dom endured twenty push ups, the lengthy exercise flaming his arm and chest muscles and making him feel his lungs were bound in iron.

"Pathetic!" Perkins yelled. "When I'm done with you you'll be able to crank out two hundred pushups with a full pack and a tank on your back! On your feet! Snap to it!"

Hague was up pretty fast but Dom took a little longer. Most of the squad was by now noticeably breathless.

"I want you all in that building!" The Sergeant pointed to another featureless white hut. "And I want you there in thirty seconds! Asses in gear! Move it along! Do not make me throw you!"

It wasn't a long way but with Perkins roaring at them all the way it could have been a world away. Dom staggered falteringly to the building, his feet barely lifting of the hard concrete by the time they arrived at the door. This particular building was marked with the Quatermasters symbol and was somewhat larger than the barracks they had recently visited.

"Alright, orderly line. Pick it up precious!" Perkins ordered. "File in, get your gear than get the hell back to your holes!"

Dom and Bill took their turns and entered the building to find a long wooden counter manned by a trio of green clad personnel. As they advanced along the counter they were handed fatigues, underwear, boots, a black standard beret and finally a long and heavy rifle.

Overburdened by their loads they rushed back to their quarters, passing an unlucky recruit who had dropped their gear half way across the parade ground with a Drill Sergeant berating him in either ear. They stumbled into the barracks, found their beds and fell on them, clutching their newly requisitioned gear to their chests.

"Oh man," Dom wheezed. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"

"First weeks the worst." Bill answered, sounding tired but nowhere near as weak as Dom. "They gotta break you down, make every one even so they can build you up again."

"How you know that?"

"My Dad went through it, he's in the fleet." Hague relayed. "It'll get better."

"Did I say lay down!" a voice boomed in the barracks. "Did I say get some Beauty sleep? Do Earth Force personnel get siestas?!"

Dom and Bill rapidly slid to their feet and stood straight as Gunny Hurley stood in the centre of the building, his presence utterly dominating the sleeping quarters.

"Look alive, stand to!" He paced to and fro waiting for the recruits to stand by their beds. "Hope you all settled in!"

At the doorway stood the two other Drill instructors in a solid and angled 'At ease' pose, faces totally unreadable.

"You have your gear!" Hurley continued. "Do not lose it! If you do, you pay the Force for new stuff, and you pay me for screwing up, and I demand a very high price! You will be clean and presentable at all times, you will take pride in your appearance, you will polish your boots so they are visible from orbit! You will iron your clothes, you will not allow fluff on your beret! Later you will be issued more advanced pieces of warfighting technology, and you will care for them!"

He stopped before Hague. "Private, hand over your rifle!"

Bill quickly retrieved the weapon and swiftly gave it to the Sergeant.

"In the future the most important lessons you will learn will involve rifle safety! These rifles you have been given are real weapons! They are old, they are obsolete, they are larger and heavier than the weapons serving soldiers use. You will drill with them, you will respect them and appreciate their weight and bulk. Maybe then you can handle a real one!"

He made a swift motion and checked the chamber of the weapon, then handed it to Hague.

"Tonight you will not be drilled." Hurley announced. "You will get to know each other. You will arrange your lockers and clothing. You will make an effort to look soldierly. Tomorrow, you're all mine. That is all."

The Gunny span on his heel and marched out of the door, his subordinates following suit in perfect unison leaving the recruits alone.

Bill let out a long exhalation of relief. "Whoah, I thought he was going to have me doing push ups."

"You're getting pretty lucky." Dom managed a weak smile. "Think its like this for everyone?"

"Yeah, bet on it." Bill nodded. "You know nobody else does this. The Centauri army just show their guys how to shoot and duck, pure technical training. In the League its even worse, they get agun and that's almost it. Only the Brakiri really bother with discipline, for the rest its more about bravery."

"That's why the Dilgar are kicking their asses?"

Bill nodded. "Probably. I forgot about them. Yeah, the Dilgar probably drill their people."

"I hear its like some Gladiator tournament." The recruit next to Dom cut in. "That Dilgar soldiers fight each other to toughen them up. They even expect a third of them to die in training."

"That can't be true." Dom dismissed. "Can it?"

"Doubt it, they'd be throwing away useful troops ding that." Hague said. "But I did hear they fight each other, but not to the death."

"So the Dilgar are tough, disciplined and fanatical." Dom thought. "What do you think would happen if we fought them?"

"It'd be hard." Bill guessed. "They've got Tanks, air support, solid artillery and ships. But I think we'd win."

"Course we would." The neighbouring recruit said. "We just drop the Gunny on them!"

Bill and Dom broke out into laughter. "Ain't that against the Geneva convention?"

"Who cares, least it gets rid him!"

Dom sat on his new bed and tested the weight of the rifle. This was going to be his new life, the path he had chosen. Despite it all he still felt optimistic, and he even suspected he was going to enjoy this.

London

United Kingdom

Earth

The rain was falling in an ever so gentle drizzle adding a cold edge to the mornings events. Pale grey clouds wedged togother in the laden skies above blotting out any early rays from the weak sun and throwing the city into an amorphous and directionless hazy daybreak. The skein of moisture gave the paving stones and roads a glistening and reflective quality and beaded on the clothing of people going to work like dew.

Jenny Sakai found it refreshing to be in the heavy air despite it being the apparent height of a British summer. She savoured the slight chill and welcomed the cool rain on her skin as a sensation, neither good or bad but just real. After spending a great deal of time on spacecraft or in climate controlled colonies such as Mars weather of any description was a thing of unpredictable beauty to be relished wherever it was encountered. While most of the populace grumbled and huffed Jenny walked the streets with a grin fixed permanently to her face.

Jenny was taking some well earned personal time off, over the months she had accumulated a rather large amount of leave and was still working her way through it. For the time being there were no truly enormous emergencies facing Earth, the Delphi was deployed near Drazi space intercepting Dilgar communications for the Code breakers to decipher, internal security was being reviewed for the umpteenth time and Agent Chapel was on a recruitment mission to Earth Force Special Forces camps. It was a perfect time to relax.

Jenny had visited England once before when she was young and had harboured a desire to return since then. Originally from Hong Kong Jenny had English blood in her family line from many years earlies, along with Chinese and more recently Japanese influences. It had all combined to give her a look which could not easily be placed, an attractive mix of western and eastern features merged into a particularly well wrapped package.

She had visited Hong Kong many times in the past and had a lot of family still out there including her brother and his wife who were sadly going through a bit of a rough patch in their marriage. She felt especially sorry for her young neice Catherine who couldn't really understand all that was going on around her. But she had promised herself to enjoy this rare time off, so Jenny had chosen London followed by Paris as her destinations.

Today everything about the city seemed grey, from the stone faced buildings and monuments to the cold churning of the river Thames. Yet none of this depressed her. In addition to taking in the sights and indulging in a little exclusive shopping at a series of very expensive shops she had also agreed to meet Paul Calendar for an early dinner at the Ritz hotel.

Jenny and Paul had a lot of history and she was extremely pleased by the recent turn they had taken. She had started out as a crew member on his ship hiding her identity as an EIA Agent as the Space Race operated in League space. She had orders to gain first hand data on the Dilgar, a mission which turned lethal when the hostile race launched their invasion.

After Paul learned the truth their friendship had turned very icy for a few months, but happily things were on the mend and the pair had recently undertaken some dangerous tasks on behalf of the Earth Alliance spying on Dilgar assets.

The invitation to lunch was a welcome one, and had only served to put more of a spring in Jenny's step as she strolled down the historic streets to the Ritz.

London, like most other European and indeed Earth cities in general, was a city straddling time. It was possible to trace the history of the city from some of its earliest times right up to the more current buildings. Jenny had seen much the same thing in New York with the majestic 10k tower overshadowing historic Manhattan with its aged but still impressive skyline of twentieth century buildings. From the sea it looked much as it would have done centuries earlier, but rather than being a dark staccato line against blue sky these buildings were now grey pillars in front of a white forest of mega skyscrapers that tangled with the Atlantic clouds drifting landward.

In Europe it was the same, in London the same type of vast buildings rose high in the air from the outskirts linked by a variety of walkways and maglev tunnels allowing transit from apartment to office to shops without ever setting foot on the ground. Indeed it was quite possible a person could live their whole life and never touch the dust and dirt of Earth itself. Something Jenny found an anaethma.

In New York Jenny had seen buildings that were almost five hundred years old preserved by modern science so they appeared almost brand new. But here in London many of the buildings were upwards of a thousand years old, the squat fortresses and opulent homes of long dead Kings coupled with exquisite places of worship and burial.

Walking the streets was an act of time travel, from bleak stone edifices of the early Medieval period to the Grecian splendour of the Imperial age. An Empire had been run from these handful of buildings, countless millions learning the ways Victorian Britain and spreading the foundations for the ideas and beliefs that shaped Earth as it stood today. The Palace of Westminster, still the House of Parliament and still a functioning centre of National Government remained as ornate and imposing as it had four hundred years earlier, the ancient bell of Big Ben cracking out the chimes for Ten in the Morning.

The echoing of the bell confirming Jenny had arrived exactly on time as she stepped up to the hotel, smiling to the doorman who opened the doors for her. Inwardly she was rather pleased by the service in a day when virtually every door opened automatically, to see something made of wood and glass that you actually had to push or pull was rather quaint.

The door had barely closed behind her when Paul arrived, mildly surprising her as he rarely if ever showed up exactly when he was meant to. Even with her honed eye it took two glances to actually confirm it was him, to her growing delight Paul had made something of an effort to dress up and look suitable for a dinner date in such an exclusive location.

Instead of his almost trademark grey and brown flightsuit he was wearing an expertly tailored Charcoal coloured suit and tie in the latest fashion with a red rose in his lapel button hole. He had foregone his steel reinforced slightly magnetic flight boots for a bear of clearly new shoes polished to a military gleam and had even indulged in wraparound sunglasses despite the utterly abysmal conditions.

But most noticeable was his mode of arrival, an incredibly beautiful silver shark of a sports car that growled to a halt and purred expectantly as he eased himself up and gave the keys to the valet parker, who clearly considered all his Christmases had arrived at once. He eagerly took the wheel as Paul rose the few steps and tipped the doorman, then stepped into the lobby to meet a highly amused Jenny.

"Who died and made you a movie star?" she teased in good spirit.

"Well I thought I better make an effort." Paul shrugged and offered a lopsided grin. "What do you think?"

"I think that if I didn't know you better I'd say you actually had class."

"Well that's what I was going for." He chuckled slightly. "Fancy a drink while they get lunch ready?"

Jenny looked at her own outfit, a flattering but still casual combination of black trousers, white blouse and cream lightweight jacket. "I suddenly feel under dressed."

"You look a vision." Paul offered in utter seriousness, rather pleasantly surprising the Agent. "Come on, we already look like tourists, we've got nothing to lose."

The pair walked through the large reception area to the nearby bar, a long and curved dark wood stretch lined with red velvet crowned stools. Beyond was the dining hall and the table they had booked.

"What will you have?" Paul sat down on one of the Stools, Jenny setting up beside him. A bar tended in a smart white jacket attentively waiting on their order. "Let me guess, cold beer?"

Jenny smiled. "You remembered. Last time you bought me a drink was…" She paused, careful not to stumble onto any bad memories and ruin the atmosphere. "Was almost a year ago."

"Too long." Paul stated. "Two beers." He asked the barman. "Cold as you can make them."

"Very good sir." The man deftly reached below the counter and provided two bottles and two glasses, wisps of ice cold air billowing from their necks. He then departed to take care of other customers.

He poured them both a glass and began downing the frosty beverage, idling glancing to a large TV screen playing ISN business news silently behind the bar.

"So," Jenny began. "I didn't even know you owned a suit."

"I didn't until last week." Paul admitted. "Well, not any I'd wear in public again." He tugged on the lapel of his extremely high quality garment. "I had this made in Savile Row here in London, supposed to be the best suit makers on Earth. It's a mix of rare wool and Centauri silk. Hand made."

Jenny stared at him open mouthed. "But, I mean that must have cost a fortune!"

"Twenty five thousand credits." He nodded. "But I wanted to make an impression."

"Yeah, hell of an impression in your bank balance!" Jenny shook her head. "But it is a good suit."

"Better be." Paul agreed. "I realised that with all the work I've done lately I'm actually pretty rich."

Jenny fought back a smile. "You could say that."

"After dicing with Dilgar for you guys I figured I owed myself a treat, to live it up a little. Nice clothes, fancy restaurants, oh and then that car…"

"I noticed." His companion smiled appreciatively. "Aston Martin?"

"DB 25, less than a month old." Paul recited with the kind of affection usually reserved for family members.

"You know the new Dodge Preybird can actually fly?" Jenny informed. "Now that's a Sports car."

"But it isn't an Aston Martin." Paul came back. "Besides, we all know who is supposed to drive cars like that." He smiled widely at Jenny. "Lets say I bought it in honour of our mutual employer."

Jenny shuffled a bit at the implied mention of the EIA, it usually made her slightly concerned when she thought of her job and the layers of secrecy involved. She didn't like even passing mentions to it.

"Besides," Paul continued. "You aren't exactly poor yourself."

"I get a good wage." Jenny confirmed. "Especially bonus payments for out of office work."

"And what about your cut of the Race fees?" Paul reminded. "Sure you might not have the same recent contracts, but you still have your cut of the old Abbai job. Six figures if I remember."

"That's held in trust for when I retire." She explained. "We have a policy on personal fortunes like that, the Director doesn't like us to have too much luxury, especially his travelling staff."

"I can see that, might take your edge off I guess?"

"Something like that." She agreed. "We keep a careful eye on personal accounts, any discrepancies had better be backe dup by a damn good reason."

She recalled quietly that they had found a double agent through tracing hidden bank accounts. A man she had called a friend right up until the moment she put a bullet through his skull on the personal orders of Director Durban. She had thought it was the hardest thing she had ever done but in hindsight she had found lying to Paul and the Space Race crew had really harmed her soul. It was an eternal relief to know the surviving crew still welcomed her and understood now why she had to do what she did.

"Say," Paul interrupted her musing. "Isn't that your office on TV?"

Jenny looked up and sure enough recognized the EIA headquarters. "Barkeep, can we get some sound here please?"

The attendant dutiful turned up the TV and allowed them to hear the news broadcast. It showed a press conference taking place in the lobby of the EIA building, a handful of men and women standing in front of a blue curtain.

"While the name of the Earth Intelligence Agency is well known across the Alliance it's inner workings are by definition top secret." The Female Newsreader relayed in a jaunty tone over images of the building and suited staff. Jenny beamed as she spotted Francis and Heather running away from the cameras and shielding their faces. She recognized them easily by Heathers cacophony of clothing.

"Today we were invited into the Headquarters building to witness this unveiling."

The screen changed to show Vice President Levy stood beside the curtain, Director Durban smiling beside her.

"The EIA has long been the watchful eye seeking threats to our world." Levy said from a memorised speech. "As it's symbol, the Eagle, has long embodied. However in these more dangerous times the EIA has been changing as has every asset geared towards the defence of Earth."

She took hold of a gold knotted rope by the curtains.

"It is no longer enough simply to look for threats, under its new Charter the EIA has been given greater freedom and authority to seek out and hunt down those who wish harm to our people. To show this the EIA has created a new badge to replace the Eagle, a new emblem for a new Agency."

She pulled on the cord and parted the curtains revealing the new badge of the EIA. It had the expected seal of the Alliance in traditional blue and gold in the foreground, but above it instead of the scanning Eagles head was the profile of a Guard dog, the slender and proud head of an Alsation with ears pricked up and alert.

"The EIA will guard our homes with the fierceness and diligence of a trained Guard Dog." Levy said proudly. "Our first point of warning, it bark ready to alert the heavily armed soldiers and fleets who will more directly meet open threats to Earth. Like Blood Hounds the EIA will track down our enemies, foreign and domestic, and I assure you in this case their bark will not be as bad as their bite. The new EIA has a sharp set of teeth."

On cue an Alsation was lead up to the stage and merrily received a treat from the Vice President before obediently sitting by Durbans side next to the new badge.

"And a round of applause for the EIA's official Mascot!" Levy laughed. "Alright, the Director and I will take a few questions."

"That's Gretal." Jenny grinned genuinely.

"The Dog?"

"Yeah, she's a real EIA agent now! I could tell you quite a story about that little lady."

"But then you'd have to kill me, right?" Paul smiled.

Jenny however wasn't amused, giving him a hurt stare. "Don't joke about that sort of thing Paul, seriously." She sighed. "Happens more often then you might think."

He retreated a little. "Sorry, I guess I kind of forgot about what it's really like. Blame TV." He paused for a drink, feeling the sudden tension heavy in the air. "So you know the Dog?" he tried.

"Friend of mine owns her." Jenny said, picking up a little. "She distinguished herself, nobody will ever now the true story and nobody will ever officially recognize her, but the changing of the badge isn't coincidence."

"Wait, you changed the EIA symbol to honour this dog?" It was Paul's turn to be taken aback. "Seriously?"

"Plus the reasons Levy said, about a more aggressive role in defending Earth instead of just watching." Jenny added. "But yeah, the Director wanted this to happen so those of us who knew could take a little pride in it."

The bar was gradually filling up as time dragged on.

"It's getting a little busy in here." Jenny said. "Too busy to talk about my job."

"I understand." Paul nodded. "Our table is probably ready, shall we?" he stood and offered his arm.

"Delighted." Jenny smiled widely. "Let us dine My lord."

They moved into the dining hall where a waiter checked their reservations and then led them to a cleanly prepared table. They ordered a mixture of exclusive cuisines and wine, then settled down for the early dinner.

"Dinner at the Ritz." Jenny maintained her smile. "Hard to believe its real."

"I never thought it'd happen either." Paul agreed. "I didn't expect to make this much money so soon."

"It was well earned." Jenny said plainly. "Tough contracts."

"Seems like the time to be in our business."

She sighed. "Sadly true, people are willing to part with a lot of money to book passage off world, in the League anyway."

"I'm making a run to Bestine next week." Paul informed. "Thought you might like to know."

"The Descari homeworld?" Jenny recalled her basic geography, the Descari were rather Primate like in appearance, aggressive, xenophobic and neighbors of Earth. Humanity had little dealing with them and they kept to their territory, despite a brief war with the Narn they had played no major part in galactic politics.

"Some wealthy business people taking a long stay at Orion." Paul continued. "A very long stay."

"Seems like everyone is running to us." Jenny mused sadly. "We've got more refugees now than any time in our history. The Red Cross are shipping food out to the border worlds daily to keep these aliens fed."

"The Narn would probably turn them away, the Centauri would enslave them, the rest of the League probably won't last a year." Paul recited. "Earth is the only place these people can run to."

The waiter returned with their food, ant the two diners paused while he worked then thanked him respectfully as he completed his allotted tasks.

"I hear the offensive has lessened." Paul said quietly as the waiter left. "The Dilgar are weakening their fleets on our front."

"Where is that from?" Jenny enquired seriously.

"The spacer community." Paul replied. "Couple of Belt Alliance ships had a narrow escape at I think Vartas, only reason they made it was because the Dilgar didn't throw up their usual ring of steel. Too few ships."

"It fits with some details we've picked up from our monitoring ships." Jenny answered in an equally quiet voice. "I have friends looking over intercepted messages, seeing if they can read them."

"Sounds like something big." Paul guessed. "Big enough to disrupt the Dilgar plans."

"Don't suppose you'd mind asking around when you go to Bestine?" Jenny proposed. "Ask some of the League pilots maybe?"

"Sure." Paul agreed. "But I was hoping you would."

"Me?"

"Yes, of course you." Paul smiled. "Toby has been keeping your seat warm."

Jenny smiled widely but looked down. "I'd like to, but I can't."

"Your place is on that ship with us." Paul said. "And I think you know it."

"Paul, I have a career here, a very important one."

"I know, but that's the beauty of it. Technically you are doing your job by coming with us and asking questions."

"I can't just hop on a ship and pick my own assignments, it doesn't work like that."

"But you've got influence." Paul said firmly. "Come on Jenny, we need you on that ship."

"We need?" she asked quietly.

"I need." Paul answered. "I need you on that ship with me."

Jenny could feel something fluttering inside, a light and thoroughly enjoyable sensation that had been waiting to escape for a long time. "You need me?"

"Of course, you're the best shot I know and that hand to hand stuff might be really useful in a bar if we…"

She dropped her fork down in frustration, her light heartedness vanishing like a balloon with a tank tied to one end. "Good shot? That's what all this was about?" she waved her hand at the restaurant. "To get me back on your crew?"

"No, there's more, it's just…"

"Just what?"

"I'm not very good with this sort of thing, believe it or not."

"Oh please, I've seen you chatting with a hundred women in every damn port we stopped at!"

"Yeah, but I never actually cared about them."

Jenny shot him an ice cold stare that bristled with razors. "That's unbelievable! How can you treat people like that? how can you lead girls on?"

"What? No, just let me explain! The reason I asked…"

Jenny stood up and shoved her chair back, ignoring the half eaten meal before her. "We've got business Paul, we've both got our jobs, so lets leave it at that."

"But…"

"If you learn anything at Bestine you know where to contact me, until then I'll be wanting some time alone."

"Just let me explain! I invited…"

"Goodbye Paul." Jenny set off at a brisk pace, her face a mask of controlled emotion gifted to her by years of undercover training.

"If you would just…" Paul reached to grab her but a sharp glancing blow reminded him why grappling with a trained secret agent would not end well. He stood idly by his chair watching her go with a pained and frustrated expression. Slowly he took the rose out of his lapel.

"I forgot to give you to her." He said quietly, running over the symbolism in the abandoned flower. He dropped the plant on the table along with a generous tip for the waiters, then dejectedly left the building, for the first time noticing the dull grey sky and the cold impacts of falling rain.

He told himself to stop being sad, that this was trivial compared to what was happening in the League. It seemed he wasn't convincing anyone today, least of all himself.

Abbai cruiser Syontar

Captain Cashik Commanding.

The mood on the Abbai vessel was low, scraping along the deck plates like a weighted bag of bricks. The atmosphere was heavy with tension and pressed down on the souls of each member of the ships crew and its diplomatic passengers. Cashik had endured a pulsing headache for the last week that felt as though her brain had expanded and was now too big for her skull to adequately contain. It was the same pressure cooker of a feeling familiar to all her crew, conversation was non-existent and hope was a dimly remembered state of being. This mission was feeling more and more like a funeral procession.

They had been counting on gaining Narn help for the war, and they had failed. Ambassador Itala was confident she could convince the Narn Regime that the Dilgar were their biggest threat, more so than the Centauri, because it was unlikely the invaders would simply stop once the League was crushed. Their culture, their doctrine, their very interpretation of life demanded that the Dilgar would never stop until all life that was not their own was either enslaved or destroyed.

For all her vigour the Narn remained unmoved, refusing to take sides in the war and remaining steadfastly neutral. With the possibility of a huge fleet of Narn ships racing into battle now no more than fantasy there seemed no hope for a swift counter attack, no method of breaking the siege of the embattled League homeworlds that had fallen to the Dilgar advance, and no way of saving their people.

The Syontar and her two frigate escorts had left Narn space without any sort of plan or direction. For two days the senior staff debated what to do before coming to the ultimate decision that they would visit each League world still free and see if they could do something to help. They may not have the strength to counter attack against the Dilgar but perhaps they could organise a united front and stop any further expansion. It was not a task Cashik expected to be successful, even now the remaining League powers were unwilling to work together, though the arrogance displayed at the start of the war had turned now to fear.

The ship had set course for the next League world still free, and be default the next likely target on the Dilgar push to the rim, N'chak'fah. The insular and decidedly primitive world was home to the Gaim species, large insectoids who were very new to the galactic scene and the most recent addition to the League of Worlds.

The Gaim were an enigmatic race inhabiting a world whose thick atmosphere was rich in methane and other noxious gases making visits by most League powers impossible without bulky survival gear. They had no Space industry, indeed nothing a civilized League world would consider industry at all, and relied on purchased transports to ply their trade. Most Gaim were physically similar to giant multilegged insects with the utterly vast Queens ruling their hives telepathically, each Queen about the same size as a large house and well protected. No one in the galaxy had ever seen these Queens and relied on the Gaim Ambassadors for descriptions.

The Ambassadors were remarkable beings, a genetically manipulated creature spawned by the Gaim Queens to speak for their world. They had been created in a humanoid shape with far greater intelligence than the Drones and Warriors of the hives and a healthy degree of initiative and self dependence. They had a unique telepathic bond with their Queens and could relay requests back and forth instantly, a trick known only to the Centauri Imperial Telepaths who traditionally accompanied the Emperor.

Despite a lack of technology what the Gaim truly excelled at was biological sciences and genetic engineering. These commodities proved highly valuable on the galactic market with Gaim medicines showing a level of complexity previously unknown in the League, and rivalled only by the emergent Warmaster Jha'dur. It was argued that the stockpiles of biogenetic weapons made by the Gaim could match any horrors the Deathwalker could conceive.

It was a great irony that despite only arriving on the galactic scene less than two decades earlier the Gaim were in fact a vastly ancient race. However they had never developed science and technology as the League knew it, simply refining their mastery of genetics over the long millennia. Their world was ignored by the Galaxy and smothered in their perpetually clouded world did not even conceive that there could be more than their rocky and harsh globe in the universe.

That changed when a Narn landing party arrived, followed soon after by a full invasion of several thousand soldiers. The Narn massacred the Gaim drones in countless numbers, their energy rifles and armoured vehicles like monsters to the Gaim. For the Narn it looked like turning into a walkover.

Then the Gaim deployed their Warriors, a caste of insect refined in constant internecine warfare over tens of thousands of years. The Gaim Warriors lacked heavy weapons, but were incredibly tough within their strong carapaces and could boast acidic spittle and immense Mantis like claws capable of scything through steel. While the Narn could shoot them with sustained fire, blast them with artillery and nuke them from orbit, there were always more to follow. Countless Warriors fought the Narn, dying in vast numbers to drive back the invaders. Million after million fell to the advanced weapons but in short order the Narn invasion was wiped out to a man and the Kha'ri deemed the world not worth the effort of depopulating.

After such a harsh awakening the Queens united and using captured Narn landers took to the stars.

"We're here." First officer Trinki announced with a detectable absence of entusiasm. "N'chak'fah beacon confirmed."

"Activate the gate, be ready to break off if we find unwelcome guests." Cashik ordered. "Take us through at high speed."

With a growing rumble the ships engines increased power and propelled the cruiser ahead towards the opening vortex. The Abbai vessel and her escorts exited at combat acceleration, a tactic designed to throw off any enemies that may be waiting for them. Luckily they had not been preceded by a Dilgar assault force.

"Skies are clear." Trinki noted with an escape of relief. "We're being hailed by the trade station."

The N'chak'fah Trade Station was the only real technological construct in the system, though there had been a Brakiri mine on an outer world which had since been abandoned as the war turned more vicious. The station was built and run by the Pak'ma'ra, one of the few races who could actually breath the air on the Gaim world below and who seemed content to spend more than a few minutes among the highly alien species. All League contact with the Gaim went through this rather small and poorly armed station which even a few years ago in peace time had been slight, since the war began nobody had much cared for the Gaim due to their lack of space going warships to help turn the tide.

"Captain, you should see this." Trinki directed Cashik to the sensor display. "We've got some ships here, I read a Hyach and a Brakiri cruiser as well as a flotilla of Pak'ma'ra ships."

"The Narn mentioned they had been approached by other League ships, I'd guess these are the same ones." The senior officer thought out loud, secretly pleased to see some familiar vessels. "Respond to the hail, This is Captain Cashik of the Abbai cruiser Syontar. We come to warn you of an imminent attack and seek whatever aid you can give the League."

There was a long pause before an answer came.

"Abbai ship," an electronically translated voice replied. "Please dock, we are holding a meeting with other League Captains, please dock and come aboard. Much to speak about."

"Understood, we are slowing now." Cashik ended the transmission. "Alright helm, docking procedure."

The battered vessel altered course slightly, Cashik approving of the care her bridge crew took while performing their orders.

"Those ships look in poor condition." Trinki raised a point. "And they aren't fighting ships."

She was right, the Brakiri ship was a freighter while the Hyach vessel was an auxiliary vessel, a logistics support ship. Neither of them had anything more than basic defensive weapons making the Syontar still the most powerful ship in the sector. Considering its poor state that was not a reassuring situation.

"I'll make the Ambassador aware," Cashik said. "You have the bridge Commander."

"Yes Captain." Trinki nodded with easy confidence. "Should be quite a discussion."

"What are we supposed to do?" The Brakiri governor slammed his fist against the table. "We're dead!"

The negotiation room on the Station was an exact copy of the League chambers on Tirrith, a very large and spacious area designed to hold a hundred or more souls. Today it had ten even though this discussion was easily the most important the room would ever witness.

"Governor Lacor, please calm yourself." Itala of the Abbai said softly. "There are many options open to us, if you will allow me to finish."

"This is a waste of time!" He snapped. "What are we supposed to achieve here?"

Lacor had been Governor of the Brakiri colony at Comac near the border with Balos. He had been on a pleasure cruise at the time of the Dilgar invasion of his people and had thus not been on Comac when it fell. His personal luxury cutter had met a freighter and together fled to the Homeworld only to spot Dilgar ships already on the way. He had wondered the League since then, which while heartbreaking was a far better fate than his people on Comac. The last reports indicated massive orbital bombardment and deployment of biological weapons, it was unlikely anyone had survived.

"Our aim Governor is to try and draw up a united front." Itala continued calmly. "We will travel to each homeworld still free and warn them of the Dilgar, tell them the true nature of the threat they face and prepare them for battle. The first stage to beating the Dilgar is stopping their advance."

"The Abbai couldn't stop them." Lacor pointed out. "Nor did the Hyach, the Cascor or the Brakiri. Our people had more military power in one fleet than every League world that is left combined!"

"Don't be so sure." The Hyach representative spoke up. "The Vree maintain a large and potent fleet, the Markab are skilled warriors and the Yolu conceal the most advanced battleships in known space, greater than even the Centauri."

"How pleasant for them." Lacor smiled humourlessly. "Except the Vree do not care what happens to the rest of us, the Markab are too busy cosying up to their new friends from the rim, Humans or something, and the Yolu wouldn't know how to fight if you gave them a diagram!"

"Tat will be our mission." Itala answered patiently. "To correct this state of affairs and bring together what is left of the League before it is too late." She paused to look at the representatives, a very meagre selection of traders, politicians and military officers. Itala was the only real diplomat there, she would trust her aide Kalika to negotiate treaties before any of these people. But circumstances had thrown them all together and she had to work with what she had.

"We represent the old League that failed." She spoke solemnly. "Our words will carry weight because we have seen first hand how the Dilgar fight and win. My Captain can provide details on fleet tactics."

"And I can help with their fighter tactics." A lone Cascan pilot added. "I've fought them."

Pilot Tullaq was lucky to be alive, after surviving the death of the Cascan navy she had been recovered from hyperspace by the Hyach Logistics cruiser as it fled a Dilgar assault on the Cascan homeworld itself. Despite being a young officer with precisely zero diplomatic training the small being now found herself the last free voice of her species.

"It is important that we try." Itala resumed. "That we tell our allies what they face and ensure they survive so they can one day help us fight back."

"You want to fight back against the Dilgar?" Lacor scoffed. "I'll try to attend your funeral."

"It is not hopeless." The gritty translated voice of the senior Pak'ma'ra stated. "They can be beaten, the Drazi are beating them."

"Drazi?" Itala perked up. "You have news from them?"

"The Drazi are attacking, they have claimed two systems and fight for a third."

Itala's spirits soared at the news. "Why didn't you say this earlier! How did you find out?"

"Pak'ma'ra ships travel everywhere, we learn, we share."

"A Drazi counterattack." Tullaq smiled. "It could be the break we need, give us some breathing space while the Dilgar shift their focus to combat the Drazi coreward."

"No, they still attack us." The Pak'ma'ra interrupted. "Some ships are still here, a Strike Fleet."

"Just one though?" Tullaq questioned.

"One is enough." Cut in Lacor

"Not necessarily, not if we rally a coordinated defence." Itala spoke swiftly and enthusiastically. "One strike fleet is powerful, but with what we know now we can beat it! Where is it?"

"At Vargas."

That news brought some of the enthusiasm down a few notches.

"The Llort homeworld?" Itala frowned.

"Yes." Confirmed the Pak'ma'ra. "Their defences are dust, the surface of their planet is under attack. No cities are left standing."

There was a slight wave of panic and sympathy running through the group. The Llort were habitual thieves and not well liked, but to have their world levelled from orbit was a punishment no one would wish on them.

"They have retreated underground." The trader continued through his translator. "But much death, much loss."

"Well that's the Llort out of our grand fleet." Lacor dismissed. "And the Ipsha, we tried to get out there but the place was alredy cut off with Dilgar ships."

"The Gaim want to help." Tullaq added. "But with no ships or orbital weapons, they can only offer ground troops and even then rely on us to transport them."

"They are a hell of an army." Lacor admitted respectfully. "But infantry don't stop Mass drivers."

"The Dilgar will come here." Itala said. "It is the fastest route to the surviving League worlds."

"We can only hope they discount this world as no threat." The Hyach Captain said. "Otherwise it is defenceless."

"I suggest we evacuate this station." Itala stated. "It is too easy a target."

"Yes, we agree." The Pak'ma'ra representative said.

"So, what exactly do the Pak'ma'ra bring to this effort?" Lacor prompted. "Your world is still unthreatened by the Dilgar being on the far side of Drazi space."

"Pak'ma'ra gather news, we move refugees, we run blockades, we bring in supplies."

"He's right." Tullaq supported. "I've seen Pak'ma'ra ships running through Dilgar lines to help keep the besieged people on Cascor and Brakir alive. They take a lot of losses doing it, they are fulfilling their part of the League charter."

"Our ships are not built for great war." The representative explained. "But we help how we can."

"And it is appreciated." Itala bowed her head respectfully. "But we need more, we cannot stay here for long."

"After here Bestine seems a logical target." The Hyach officer suggested. "We should go there, then on to the Yolu and Vree ending with the Markab."

Itala nodded. "I think I agree, we'll leave the further worlds until last."

"If I may ask a question?" Kalika spoke up for the first time.

"Proceed."

"Shall we ask others for help outside the League, beside the Narn?"

"Like the Centauri?" Lacor hissed. "They are as bad as the Dilgar, the whole reason we made a League! If they did help they would just enslave us after victory anyway."

"Actually I was thinking about the humans."

"Earth Alliance?" Tullaq recalled. "Does anyone know anything about them?"

"Nothing." Lacor huffed. "We traded with them, and human fashion is big on the homeworld." He paused with a tinge of sadness. "Well, it was."

"The Abbai have had the barest contact with them." Itala said. "They see passionate, uncouth, militant even."

"But they have never invaded anyone." Kalika pointed out. "And I heard a story of an Earth warship helping defend a refugee convoy."

"I heard that too!" Tullaq chipped in. "At Tirrith!"

"Most interestingly of all it was said this ship was more than a match for the Dilgar ships it battled." Kalika mentioned hopefully.

"Impossible, Humans are primitive, I've seen their ships." Lacor grunted unimpressed.

"Have you seen them in battle?" Tullaq countered.

"Well, no, but…"

"I recall we all said the same thing about the Dilgar, that they were primitive and no threat." Itala intoned. "Look how wrong we were."

"They are at the edge of known space, but we should at least try to talk to them." Kalika pushed. "The Markab seem to like them, so they can't be as bad as the Centauri or Narn."

"We will go the Earth." Itala announced. "After we visit the Markab. We would be fools not to at least try."

"And if they refuse, what then?" Lacor asked.

"I don't know about the rest of you." Itala said calmly. "But I will return home and fight for whatever is left of my people until we are finally extinguished."

"Lets hope it doesn't come to that." The Hyach officer said.

"That my friend is why we must not fail." Itala said. "More depends on us than we can possible conceive, fate has given us this unbearable burden but we must be strong, and we must have faith. We are the Leagues last chance."

As she looked around the room she realised how slim that chance was. They would need a miracle to save the League and the tens of billions of lives depending on them. She could only hope that somewhere on their journey they found one.


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 41

52

Dilgar Dreadnought Ravager

Hyperspace, Near Tithalis.

The Dreadnought was one of a great many Dilgar ships holding at the edge of the Tithalis main beacon, a steel cloud misting in and out of visibility through the tumult of the blood red sky and crow black clouds populating this ethereal world behind reality. The Dilgar had scrambled every ship they could realistically muster to this location to meet the Drazi attack, an effort that had taken a month to adequately realise.

The loss of Fendamir to the Drazi counter offensive had cost the Dilgar a staggering amount of supplies and raw materials, almost every easily accessed munition store or fuel tank in this part of the galaxy. So unthinkable was the notion of defeat that no one had considered splitting their resources to avoid such a singe devastating blow.

A new supply base was set up at Balos feeding the fleets as they massed for battle. Jha'dur's force had to transit from one side of the expanding Imperium to the other, a journey which took an excessive amount of time as her fleet was also virtually dry in terms of their own supplies having just completed a major phase of the rimward expansion.

Fate had given the Dilgar a cruel blow to their pride, the equivalent of a cold shower that had brought most of them back to a grounding in reality and emphasised they were still in a precarious position, something the best of the Dilgar commanders knew to begin with.

Those commanders had no gathered on this one ship, if any of the Dilgar enemies had even an inkling of this it would have becoming the highest target priority in the galaxy. Two Warmasters and two War Captains met in the main conference hall to decide the immediate plans for their respective forces.

"Gentlemen." Jha'dur greeted as she arrived last, fresh from Omelos with her now fully prepared Strike Fleet. "Time is short so I suggest we make this succinct."

"That suits me." Dar'sen took his seat. "Sooner we get to the fighting the happier I'll be."

Also in the room was Captain Tor'han we ran the Home Fleet in the name of the Supreme Warmaster and the new head of Dilgar Military Intelligence.

Jha'dur regarded the new officer closely, his uniform was the deep green of an army officer rather than the blue of the fleet and was still rich in its colour, probably less than a week old.

"We have met before War Captain, have we not?"

"Yes Ma'am." The relatively young man replied. "On Mitoc, I was formerly an aide to Governor Par'nan."

"The efficient Commander of the Fortieth Division." She smiled as the face fitted into her recollections. "I assigned you to my staff."

"Yes Ma'am, but it seems the Supreme Warmaster altered those orders and gave me this promotion."

"And gave you a rapid promotion Captain, Sa'goth is it not?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"It is a good sign to have Gar'shan's patronage, it is not easily earned. You must have impressed him."

"Thank you Ma'am."

"Now you can impress us." Jha'dur sat down. "Though given your immediate competition was Warmaster Len'char a trained monkey would prove a superior intelligence chief. Proceed when ready Captain."

Captain Sa'goth expertly activated the semi holographic display at the end of the table, dimming the lights and showing a map of local space. Each member of the room could name each system without using the helpful tags.

"Our intelligence network was, well, a shambles." Sa'goth said. "We had the assets but with no strong leadership there was no coordination. I've spent the last three weeks trying to regain control."

"Have you had success?" Dar'sen asked.

"In terms of agents, it will take a very long time." He admitted. "Fortunately our listening stations, spy ships and analyst sections while underused are all in prime condition."

"Excellent." Tor'han smiled approvingly.

"The Drazi codes were very easy to break once we put our assets to work, since then we've learned a great deal about the Drazi deployment and regional strength."

"What is the current break down?" Jha'dur asked.

"We have a Drazi fleet here at Tithalis under a General Yanli." Sa'goth pointed out. "It is well equipped, fresh and equal in power to a single strike fleet. Currently it is guarding the sixth planet while the Drazi fortify it."

He highlighted another sector of the map.

"Fendamir, the main Drazi fleet is here, approximately equal to three of our Strike fleets. It is under General Indriz."

Once again the map changed. "We have a smaller fleet at Latig and another at the main supply base at Deskartalos, the other big Drazi fleet is back at the homeworld. That was the fleet Warmaster Dar'sen fought commanded by a Warleader Stro'kath."

"Why is that fleet at Zhabar?" Dar'sen wondered. "They were well led and well trained, best enemy I've ever fought."

"Surely they'd be on the front ready to meet us?" Tor'han concurred.

"We think Stro'kath has fallen out of favour with the Drazi political leadership. Our intercepts state he was ordered home to face a reprimand."

Jha'dur smiled widely. "What an excellent time to let politics get in the way of practicality."

"Judging by some of the language Stro'kath used he did not go quietly." Sa'goth added. "He blames political meddling for delaying his offensive and costing the Drazi the initiative."

"It might well have done." Jha'dur agreed. "What do we know about the enemy commanders?"

"Stro'kath was the most respected by the common Drazi, he's out of the picture now."

"Pity." Dar'sen considered. "I'd like to finish what we started. Hard to find a Drazi worth killing."

"General Yanli is a political creature, traditional and power hungry. Indriz is competent but cautious, she lost four hundred ships in the first week of the war and it has affected her deeply."

"She fears us." Jha'dur noted. "She also commands the largest Drazi concentration of ships. I'd bet she will be reluctant to meet us in open battle. She'll delay, seek orders, look to someone else to lead her. That is no General, I bet she always played subordinate to Stro'kath."

"Our reports seem to indicate that, yes Warmaster." The intel chief confirmed.

"Then breaking her is my main task." Jha'dur resolved. "Scare her, break her nerve, than kill everything around her."

"Master of the simple plan." Dar'sen chuckled. "What is our objective?"

"The supply base at Deskartalos." Jha'dur pointed out. "Our aim is to hamstring the Drazi fleet so they cannot threaten homeworld, acquiring territory is a secondary concern. Killing ships and burning supplies is the main mission."

"Hard to threaten anyone when you're dead." Tor'han laughed. "Good tactic Jha'dur."

"The council seems to have lost the simplest lesson war teaches us," Jha'dur shrugged. "Sometimes the best solution is just to kill the enemy. Forgot complicated plans and various levels of battle. Just go out there and kill. It's refreshingly simple."

"So our orders are to give battle and worry about planets later?" Tor'han sought to confirm.

"We have supplies for a prolonged offensive." Jha'dur confirmed. "This is a hunting operation, we can be sure the Drazi will helpfully gather to fight us making it easy to break them."

"Before then we have to handle this force at Tithalis." Tor'han remarked. "We can't leave anything behind us, especially as Omelos will be scarcely defended."

"Warmaster Dar'sen," Jha'dur smiled wickedly. "I understand you have some business to finish, perhaps this would be the time?"

"My forces can handle this Yanli runt." The older Warmaster huffed. "I'll use the Fendamir survivors."

"I think they've proven themselves in these last two battles." His fellow Warmaster remarked. "I'd support elevating them to Strike status, bring your fleet up to full strength."

"Fifteen percent over strength." Dar'sen corrected. "Which is useful."

"Very well then." Jha'dur highlighted three areas on the map. "We have three offensive groups, Home Fleet, Third Strike and my own First Strike fleet. The Tithalis garrison will aide you Dar'sen in taking the system back and then remain here to guard our supply lines and prevent any flanking move towards Omelos."

"Who are we leaving in charge?" Tor'han questioned.

"Battlemaster Yeg'dra." Dar'sen suggested. "He proved useful at Fendamir, a support role is within his skill."

"Agreed." Jha'dur confirmed. "I've stripped forces from the Alaca, Tirrith and Balos garrisons and as many ships as I think we can get away with from the League siege fleets to create a reserve. These ships are low quality but will prove a useful buffer if we need it. They will manage our supply lines which will be rather long, especially as I don't intend to seize a base until Deskartalos."

"When do we start?" Tor'han asked eagerly.

"Three days." Jha'dur said. "They expect an assault on Tithalis and then Fendamir, Dar'sen will provide it. Level the Drazi base at Tithalis and then probe Fendamir. As you do so Tor'han and myself will hit Latig and flank the defences at Fendamir, then drive on Deskartalos. I want this battle over in a week, we ignore Fendamir and force the Drazi fleet to abandon it or risk being cut off from home and supplies."

"If they stand?" Dar'sen wondered.

"Then we hit Fendamir from two sides after we cut their supply lines and let them wither for a while." She answered. "If they try and break out we let them fly into a prepared wall of ships, mines and nukes. In either case by the end of this month the Drazi fleet will be a memory."

"So all we need is a little luck and a lot of ammunition." Tor'han chuckled. "Good to be back in charge of a battle force again."

"There's not much like it." Dar'sen agreed passionately. "Commanding Home Fleet is a great honour, but leading it into battle is something special. I find myself envious of you Captain."

Tor'han inclined his head respectfully.

"All the pieces are set." Jha'dur spoke in summary. "You have your orders and I trust each one of you to act on you initiative to fulfil our objectives. You all know how to fight, this campaign will be our biggest test in the war so far."

She observed the map again, eyes wandering across the illuminated border.

"We've learned from our defeats, don't underestimate the Drazi and suspect everything as a trap. They still outnumber us but we are united, concentrated and single minded. They are divided and bereft of their best leader. Make them bleed."

"You can bet Stro'kath will be back." Dar'sen reminded them. "Once the scale of this attack is revealed they'll throw every ship at us."

"So much the better." Jha'dur drummed the table with her fingers. "This campaign is a distraction, our real goal is rimward. Already homeworld is being evacuated and we have the first colonists setting up our new home on Mitoc. Our goal should be securing the territory close to Mitoc. Once the Drazi are broken I will return command of this front to you Dar'sen."

"Things will be much quieter when we're done here." Tor'han suggested. "We can still maintain our schedule of defeating resistance by the end of the year."

"Time is our life blood gentlemen." Jha'dur related. "And every second causes more to drip from our veins. We must act quickly or all of this will be for nothing."

"Not quite." Tor'han replied. "Live or die we have carved our name in history. Nobody will forget the Dilgar."

"Small consolation for extinction." Jha'dur shook her head. "Let's not allow it to go so far. Kill them all and do it quickly, we have a schedule."

The group stood and left the room, taking ship back to their commands and setting in course. The counter attack wa son the move and the Drazi remained completely oblivious.

Hilak

Drazi Colony world

Narn Border.

Hilak was a relatively small colony, no more than a few thousand Drazi residents and a mid sized military base. It had a very scant defence grid and like most Drazi colonies had come to rely on the nearby garrison fleet for its continued security. This tended to suit the Drazi who preferred the mobility of warships over the mundane fixed defences offered by satellites and stations, an attitude the Dilgar were steadily beating out of them.

The Drazi had been buoyed by recent successes against their hated enemies, news of the Victories at Fendamir and Tithalis had been well received and rejoiced over. Across the Freehold there was a sense of fortune turning, that they had endured the worst the enemy could throw at them and that now, at long last, the natural courage and dignity of the Drazi would show its worth.

It was a sensation the government was nurturing and promoting with every piece of propaganda they had, the defeat of the Dilgar fleets was indeed a massive boost for morale and Operation Retributive Strike was seen as a total success, final victory could not be far from the Drazi grasp.

Unfortunately the truth was different. The Drazi operation had lost its momentum and become mired and sluggish, their speedy advance reduced to a planet by planet crawl heavily resisted by the Dilgar. The Feline race had thrown ship after ship into the grinder to buy time and it had worked. At one time there was nothing between the Drazi and Omelos except broken or untried fleets, now they faced a well led and fully prepared Dilgar fleet group consisting of some of the finest ships and crews in known space.

Even worse was the fact the Dilgar were not content to sit behind their lines and wait for the Drazi to attack but were rather massing their numbers for their own attack. The Dilgar were not planning some simple stalling attack but a full blown offensive that the Drazi would have to fight hard to survive.

All of this meant little to the people on Hilak, few even guessed the extent of the real situation and how incredibly fragile the Drazi position really was. For the colony the only issue was where their ships had gone. To feed the military machine high command had called in every ship they could spare to assault the Dilgar, every garrison, every patrol, every reserve. It had left the border units like the Hilak fleet a shadow of their former selves and in many cases reduced to support ships masquerading as military gunships.

High command assumed it would be fine as long as nobody actually tried to engage their border guards.

"Hilak colony, this is Captain G'Sten of the Narn Regime, we advise you to stand down and do not attempt to engage our ships."

The unexpected transmission caused a wave of panic in the Colony, the meagre garrison of ground troops taken completely by surprise.

"Narn vessels," The Drazi ground commander quickly responded, technicians and specialists scurrying around him. "You are entering Drazi space, withdraw at once!"

"I think you will find this is Narn space." G'Sten replied. "And that we have the strongest claim to this system."

"This is an act of war!"

"If you wish to contest the Narn claim to this system my fleet is prepared to present a conclusive argument." The incoming Captain warned grimly. "But right now I don't think your people need another war. Stand down and you will not be harmed."

"This is Drazi space!" The commander feebly protested once more, fully aware of how powerless they were to resist.

"Not anymore." G'Sten said simply. "Welcome to the Narn Regime."

Captain G'Sten's journey had been a remarkably easy one. Patrols had found the usually well patrolled Narn/Drazi border unusually quiet prompting a more coordinated probe of Drazi defences. A dozen small fleets investigated different parts of the border with only one or two units encountering Drazi ships, and even then they were relatively small forces and easy to escape from.

The truth behind this weak defence became apparent when news came through of the massive Drazi assault on the Dilgar lines, clearly involving as many ships as the Drazi could gather. That had created an opportunity for the Narns to exploit providing the Kha'ri could be sure that the huge Drazi fleet would not be suddenly turned on the Narn.

They watched carefully as the Drazi attack petered out and the Dilgar forces began to build up enough ships to tip the balance. They looked for an appropriate world to test their claim and came up with Hilak. It was very close to the border, had light defences and was out of the way of any potential battlezones. It was perfect, and when it looked like the Drazi would be very busy with the Dilgar for the foreseeable future they had struck.

"Get a message to Homeworld." G'Sten barked. "We have secured the system and are beginning to deploy ground troops." He smiled, showing worn teeth that had once torn the throat from a Centauri Guardsman. "No resistance encountered."

Narn Homeworld

"Welcome back to civilization."

Representative G'Kar looked over his shoulder, his boot grinding loose chips of gravel into the rough stone floor beneath him.

"Oh, Ta'Kai." He provided his most patently false smile. "How pleasant to see you."

"Our marvellous leader G'Quonth is preparing to make a speech." The female said completely ignoring G'Kars distaste of her. "It promises to be most informative."

"The last time he made a speech we invaded a Centauri world and were driven away in embarrassment." G'Kar huffed. "Lets hope this one goes a little better."

"I'm impressed his political career survived that debacle." Ta'kai mused. "I expected him to fall."

"Yes, I remember." G'Kar eyed her warily. Ta'kai was a political animal and as fiercely ambitious as they came. Both she and G'Kar had started at the same station but her dishonest manipulations had caused her to rise above him in rank. "As I recall you were very eager to see G'Quonth go from power."

"He was a great resistance leader." She shrugged. "For that he is rightly honoured, but he is no statesman. He lead us in our war of freedom but he is not qualified to lead us as a galactic power."

"Galactic power?" G'Kar chuckled. "To be a Galactic power we would need, oh I don't know, power?"

"We have power, our fleets and ships are strong, our soldiers fearless, our commander cunning and brave." Ta'Kai repudiated.

"Spare me the propaganda." G'Kar dismissed. "Our record is as poor as a blind man in a maze."

"Because our leadership is foolish!" the female spat. "They involve us piecemeal in small wars, squander our strength and retreat at the first sign of difficulty! The Gaim, the Bestine, the Balosians, the Tirrithans, we could have beaten any of them if the leaders had remained committed."

"Those places are a waste of Narn lives." G'Kar countered. "Lives we will need for our inevitable war with the Centauri."

"I agree, we shouldn't have attacked them in the first place." Ta'kai nodded. "Another sign of weakness and incompetence from our leaders. Listen to me G'Kar, their time is done. The Narn need a new practical generation to lead them."

"Like you?"

"Like us." She stared closely at him. "You have certain skills, certain contacts."

"People who could help your ascent to power." G'Kar smiled back. "Absolutely not."

She stepped back. "And why not?"

"Because you are a schemer Ta'kai, and schemers never stop. Even if you become our leader, de facto voice of the First Circle and most influencial person in the Regime, you will still scheme, still attack those around you. Even those who help you to power."

"You're worried I'll turn on you?"

"Worried? No. Certain of it? Yes."

"I would never…"

"Never do to me what you intend to do to our most beloved leaders?" G'Kar uttered. "Oh, perish the thought."

"You have vision G'Kar, and that is useful."

"Yes, it means I can see the door over there and a way to escape your poisonous words."

"Believe it or not I am trying to help you."

"And I thought you were asking me for help?" G'Kar remarked. "Listening to the League must have hurt my ears."

"These next months could make you G'Kar, they could put you in a place of great power."

"But at what cost?" he answered.

"Maybe you should listen to the speech first."

"Will it make you sound less like a snake?"

G'Kar started to walk away.

"He's invaded Hilak." Ta'Kai called after him, hiding a triumphant smile as he stopped and slowly turned.

"Hilak? In Drazi space?"

"They've had their eye on that world for a long time." Ta'Kai spoke calmly, happy now to be in charge of the conversation. She enjoyed it when people hung on her every word. "With the Drazi fighting for their lives it is an opportune moment to take it from them."

"It isn't the Drazi I am concerned about." G'Kar said.

"You mean our allies the Dilgar?" the representative raised a brow. "By the terms of our neutrality treaty the Dilgar will cede us a number of Drazi worlds in exchange for our tacit support."

"Yes, worlds they give us." G'Kar snapped. "If we take worlds on a whim I doubt they will be very happy."

"It will influence their war plans, and you know how they get when things crop up in their way."

"They'll wipe out the colony and anyone on it, Narn included."

"Did I mention the first colonists are due to settle in two days time?"

"Two days!" Ta'kai felt a mild thrill at G'Kars outburst.

"Aggressive colonisation." She explained. "Harder to claim it back when ninety percent of the population is Narn. I believe the humans have a phrase 'Possession is Nine tenths' or something."

"It'll be nine tenths of nothing if the Dilgar show up!" G'Kar forced his voice to remain low. "As far as allies go the Dilgar are far from ideal."

"An alliance of convenience." Ta'Kai passed comment. "Well, that is how I see it. Of course our leaders are bound by a more rigid code of honour. They will do nothing to upset the Dilgar."

"Taking Hilak will upset them."

She smiled lightly. "I didn't say they were smart. The colony will stay."

"Not for long." G'Kar growled. "It will last as long as it takes for that Deathwalker woman to show up."

"Of course if there was a change of government, well policy would change." Ta'Kai walked her fingers up his arm, both a sensual and repulsive feeling. "The colonists would return home."

"A change of government." G'Kar sighed defeatedly. "And I suppose there will soon be a challenge?"

"There will, and I can use your help." Ta'Kai's voice was a whisper. "There are many of us, over a third. But we need to find certain ammunition to use in our challenge."

"You mean dirt to throw at the leadership."

"And you G'Kar, with your contacts, you have dirt on everyone. All those dark little secrets our leaders hide, you have them." Ta'Kai leaned in close and looked up at him. "You are loyal G'Kar, I appreciate that, but don't confuse loyalty to your leaders with loyalty to your world. Sometimes they are different."

"You disgust me."

She stepped back, still grinning wildly. "But I am right. Listen to the speech, hear it for yourself, then we will talk a little more."

G'Kar did not watch her walk away, so furious he was with both the Kha'ri's foolish greed and with himself for the knowledge that his idealistic view of politics was about to be stained black forever.

"See you soon G'Kar, welcome to the real world."

Zhabar

Drazi Homeworld

The door guard was about to offer protest when a fast moving blue and grey fist prevented him from acting. The young and fit Drazi guardsman hit the ground like a sack of bricks without even impeding War Leader Stro'kath's stride. The Drazi commander pushed open the doors to the secure government conference room, batting aside the heavy doors like they were made of cardboard and focused his attention on the inner cabinet of the Drazi Government.

"War leader." An officer stepped up beside him, but one look from Stro'kath was enough to make the man keep his distance. "This is a private meeting." The officer was visibly quailing.

"In that case you better get out." Stro'kath said with barely restrained fury. "And shut the door behind you."

The officer thought about arguining the point, but rapidly decided it was a bad idea and scurried out leaving Stro'kath and the six senior Government officials alone.

The room was heavily protected, thick stone and metal walls formed a solid barrier against airborne attack while rows of monitors cast a blue light throughout the room. At the centre the Cabinet members were gathered around a metal table, nobody else was in the room which suited Stro'kath just fine.

"Welcome home." Defence Minister Kalsha offered with the sincerity of a poisonous snake.

"Yes, it is good to be back." Stro'kath walked powerfully forward. "This is the only place I can find you all in one place."

"The War Cabinet is aware of your objections." Kalsha dismissed.

"And are you aware of what I'm going to do about it?"

"A Challenge?" the Defence minister smiled. "I think we're beyond that."

"Far beyond." Stro'kath agreed. "I'm just going to go ahead and kill you all."

The atmosphere in the room suddenly electrified, an overburdening air of tension emanating from the Cabinet as Stro'kath stood at the foot of the table. Few doubted his sincerity but chose to try and ignore the threat.

"You aim to kill your own Government?" Kalsha commented. "I didn't think you were Centauri."

With a vast blur of silver Stro'kath pulled a thick triangular bladed knife from his tunic and drove it deep into the table, penetrating the metal top with an excrutiating scream of grating metal. The room went as quiet as the void.

"Do not insult me." Stro'kath said in a low growl. "If anyone has acted like a spineless Centauri it is you and this cabinet. You six have robbed us of victory."

The Defence minister carefully sat down and gazed at the fleet commander.

"We saved our navy from annihilation."

Stro'kath spat on the floor. "Operation Retributive Strike had a timetable, that timetable was an absolute requirement of success, not some sort of guideline!"

"All plans need to be flexible." Kalsha said. "We are still able to continue the counter attack."

"No, we are not." The heavy warrior grimaced. "We have left it too late, I insisted time and again we needed to leave Fendamir within a couple of days! We had driven a sword through the chest of the Dilgar Navy and we had to keep it there! We had to keep up the pressure and forget about territory!"

"That territory you dismiss belongs to the Drazi, the are sovereign colonies and need protection."

"Protection from what?" Stro'kath hit back. "If you had followed my plan there would be no Dilgar to threaten those worlds!"

"The colonists demand…"

"There are no colonists, they were all killed within a week of the Dilga rinvasion!"

"They are our worlds!" Kalsha began to grow agitated.

"They are rocks. Weights chained around our neck now pulling us down. We could have left them until after the Dilgar fleet was beaten."

Stro'kath grunted in annoyance. We let them recover, gather their strength, and now they will counter attack and destroy us."

"You should have more faith in our defences." Kalsha chided. "We do have a plan."

"It will fail."

The Defence Minister leaned forward over the desk, a level of confidence returning to him as he felt the familiarity of his plan.

"If we had charged headlong towards Omelos the Dilgar would have ambushed us and torn us apart."

"They wouldn't have had the chance." Stro'kath replied coldly.

"Feined retreat was always a favourite tactic of the Dilgar, we all know that."

"There was nothing feigned about this retreat. It was a rout, a panicked withdrawal with little order. We should have exploited the chaos and burned Omelos!"

"It was a trick."

"It was our only chance to win!" the War leader bellowed.

"No, already with our pieces in place." Kalsha smiled. "We have a contingency, as soon as the Dilgar show their hand we will hit back."

"What contingency? Our entire fleet is committed to this campaign, we have no reserves, no reinforcements!"

"And the Narn have just taken one of our colonies." The Minister added. "But this does not concern us, we will deal with the Narn later."

"You have broken up our fleet, scattered it into smaller groups." Stro'kath said. "It will take a week to concentrate our numbers once again to launch a new attack."

"We don't have to, we have a fresh fleet ready to attack."

Stro'kath laughed. "And this ships are going to fly magically out of your head are they?"

"No." Kalsha smiled superiorly. "The Hurr."

The War leader paused as he absorbed that news. "The Hurr? Those alien backstabbers?"

"Our Government has formed an alliance with them, the recognize our common cause."

"The last time we had dealings with the Hurr our conversations were conducted with particle cannons and missiles!"

"Times change." Kalsha said as if to a child. "The Dilgar threat has been of great concern to the Hurr, as they share a border with us and their home is one jump from Latig they have an interest in keeping the Dilgar away."

"They have always claimed Latig." Stro'kath said. "If they advance over Latig they will keep it, garrison it, and force us to fight them to take it back."

"I am not concerned." The Minister dismissed. "We can easily drive them back."

"Yes, we can." Stro'kath agreed. "And if we can defeat them in battle how long do you thing they'll last against Deathwalker?"

"They don't have to last long, just enough to distract the Dilgar while we administer the crushing blow."

Kalsha pointed to the map of local space.

"The Dilgar will attack Tithalis, and then try to reclaim Fendamir. When they do we will pin them at Fendamir, use the Hurr ships to go through Latig and flank the Dilgar, then grind them down in a battle of attrition."

"You are a fool to believe Deathwalker will meet you in a battle of Attrition." Stro'kath huffed. "She fights on the move, lightning war. She'll hit you where you don't expect it and hard."

"I suppose you have your own plan?"

"Fall back to a central location." Stro'kath said. "We can't attack into Dilgar territory with three elite fleets facing us, we need to dispose of them first then move quickly on Omelos."

"You would abandon our front line?"

"We can't hold it." Stro'kath said flatly. "Not spread out like this, not against a determined Dilgar attack. We exchange space for time, gather our full power and meet them in a place of our choosing."

"Where do you suggest?"

"Deskartalos."

Kalsha laughed. "Don't be a fool!"

"It is the only place where we cannot be outflanked." Stro'kath said. "The Dilgar can bypass the other worlds, but not this one. They have to go through here to reach Homeworld."

"Not that it matters, the plan is set. This discussion is academic."

"The Hurr couldn't fight their way out of a wet paper bag. To trust them with our plan is foolish."

"This plan will work."

"Every ship we deploy will be destroyed."

"Well that is not your concern, you are staying here."

Stro'kath blinked. "What?"

"You disobeyed an order, you attacked Tithalis before the schedule dictated."

"I was following the approved battle plan!"

"We ordered you to stop."

"You don't have that authority!"

"But we do have the authority to relieve you of fleet command." Kalsha stated. "You will command the reserves here at Zhabar, General Yanli is now fleet commander."

"Your little puppet?" Stro'kath snarled. "Yanli and the Hurr? We're all dead!"

"You will support the supply fleets and be ready to detach ships to replace front line losses." Kalsha said in a bored tone. "You are dismissed."

"This is foolish! I challenge you to a duel! I demand the right I was given by the people to lead our forces in battle!"

"The challenge is denied." Kalsha said. "Until after the war."

"I should kill you where you stand, all of you!"

"In time of war that is punishable by a dishonourable death." The minister reminded. "A sad end to your career."

"You haven't heard the last of me." Stro'kath snarled, then thundered out of the room in a furious anger.

"A relic of an old world." Kalsha ignored the threat. "Lets worry about things that matter, now, where are the Hurr?"

Bestine

Homeworld of the Descari

The entire right side of the ugly warship was a mass of bright yellow light, thousands of tons of molten metal sliding from the twisted and molten hull framing the immense damage the Descari vessel had taken. Bright jets of white and orange flame fountained from the wreck, gouts of ignited fuel and pumped atmosphere spewing from severed lines like arterial blood from a grevious wound, starkly bright against the inky black backdrop of space.

The heavily damaged vessel veered out of control, its guns silent as it busily haemorrhaged air and power while the crew desperately tried anything to stay alive. It was hard to really imagine what was going on in the vessel, the panic of fires in zero gravity, the incessant warnings as computers reayed the impending doom, the fact that their enemy was still out there and quite capable of finishing the ship at any time.

These thoughts bombarded Captain Cashik's mind for a single moment, a kaleidescope of emotions, empathy and remembrance of her own near death situations commanding the Syontar in battle. She had come so far, seen so much, sacrificed so frequently that Cashik didn't really recognize the person who stared flatly at her without expression in the mirror each morning. She had noticed an emptiness in the eyes of her crew, an absence of something very fundamental in their souls and it had turned out that she too had that same unloving look. Oddly she had not been surprised or saddened, just numb.

Cooly she noted the out of control ship was going to cut across their path and impede her firing arcs. Quickly recalculating the constantly changing battlefield she worked out mentally where the new optimum firing position would be and directed her crew to achieve it.

"Helm, hard right." Cashik ordered. "Resume normal course in fifteen seconds, main batteries standby salvo fire."

The cruiser Syontar silently angled away from the crippled Descari ship, the flaming wreck passing within five miles of the Abbai cruiser and spraying it with molten debris. The Gravitic shields stopped the debris without trouble, a few shimmers of light marking where the scattered debris bounced off on a new course.

"Dilgar cruiser in range." Gunnery officer Franir, a Brakiri Mercenary, reported.

"Fire for effect, standby for a full strike when we get a solution."

The Abbai forward laser cannons fired in short bursts on a set pattern, each at a slightly different angle to try and improve their chances of hitting the offending Dilgar ship. At long range and with the amount of ECM the Dilgar force was putting out Cashik couldn't rely on the sensors to achieve a reliable lock, so had developed this tactic based on Dilgar strategy. The ship fired blind until it hit something, then focused a full strike on any resultant explosions.

In the distance there was a bright flash, it was brief but provided enough solid information to triangulate the position of the Dilgar warship, a slight denting of the enemy ships hull splitting open seams in the armour and releasing a cloud of icy gas like a spectral exhalation.

"Sensor lock!" Franir called out. "Firing solution set!"

"Full power strike, engage at will."

The bow lasers paused for a second as they cycled up to full power, then unleashed twin beams at the distant target, stabbing across space at light speed. The twin red lances speared the Dilgar cruiser, piercing clean through its hull and ripping apart its internal systems in an unimaginable blast of heat and light. Externally the damage looked incredibly weak, two neat holes and a small cloud of vanishing flame, but inside the ship was a hell of burning metal.

Cashik's crew had become expert Dilgar hunters, they had survived for almost a year surrounded by Dilgar warship and had participated in two major battles. Over that time they had learned about the different types of Dilgar ships and by now could pick out the weak spot in any potential enemy and formulate a plan to exploit it. Many of them were even at the point where their instincts and proven better than the ships computers with Cashik able to plot a near perfect intercept course from memory and Franir becoming unerringly accurate at calculating target drift when firing blind.

"It's down." He reported.

"Well done." Cashik congratulated plainly. "Just four more to go."

Captain Cashik had been on their way to Bestine to try and reach an accord with the Descari Government, after the brief stop at N'Chak'Fah the League representatives had agreed to form a single united fleet for greater protection and to add weight to their words of unity. Joining together had turned out particularly useful when they suddenly ran into a Dilgar scouting fleet the second the arrived at the Descari home.

Two Descari ships had already been destroyed by the five strong Dilgar party with a third now a useless wreck. Cashik hadn't even paused to consider what to do, immediately she sounded battlestations and deployed to engage the Dilgar force. With the element of surprise and the still impressive weapons on her cruiser she had made an early impression, but like the well trained professionals they were the Dilgar ships responded quickly to the loss of their comrade.

Cashiks problem came from the fact that while she had increased the size of the League fleet each of the new ships were strictly civilian in design, only the Syontar and her two Frigate escorts could be classed as real warships and despite her technological edge the Dilgar heavily outgunned her little force. She had hoped for some help from the Descari, but the three surviving ships of the local defence force were milling about in confusion with no central leader.

This was not going to be pleasant.

"Brace yourselves." Cashik warned. "Evasive action, maintain salvo fire and hit any target of opportunity!"

A wave of pulse and laser fire grazed by the Abbai ships as the Dilgar opened up from long range. At this distance accurate gunnery was more down to luck or volume of fire, and the Dilgar seemed to be embracing both concepts.

Two rounds pummelled the forward shield, the sudden burst of energy attracting slightly more accurate fire. A Dilgar ship was in turn hit by one of the Frigates beside the Syontar, but quickly altered course resulting in a miss when the escort followed up with a full power strike.

"I can't raise the Descari ships Captain." Trinki called from her station.

"Jamming?"

"Incompetance would be my guess."

Cashik sighed with bitterness. "The Dilgar are going to go through these fools like fresh air."

The cruiser bucked again with an additional hit.

"Shields weakening." The first officer said dispassionately.

"Transfer power reserves, continue engaging."

The next volley winged a Dilgar destroyer, burning a deep rent along its starboard side and silencing its weaponry on that quarter. Its companions however were not discouraged, some of their shots striking the civilian League vessels trying to shelter behind Cashik.

"What the hell are the Descari doing?" Cashik grew increasingly annoyed with their apparent allies. "We were trying to save their lives here!"

"They aren't in any formation." Trinki shook her head. "The Dilgar keep firing light weapons at them, damn fools can't seem to spot the difference between point defence guns and ship killers!"

"If they want to see where the Dilgar ship killing guns are pointing they should look at us." Franir growled.

"Fine, if they won't come to us we'll go to them." Cashik grunted. "Alter course, put the Descari between us and the Dilgar."

"Aye Captain."

There was still some part of Cashik that was appalled by the plan, putting an ally in the line of fire. Ostensibly she wanted to bring them to battle but at least a part of the plan was to use them as cover so the Syontar could recover its shields. It was a cold move, but the times of waging polite war were long gone.

"Captain, sensors registering new contacts moving in fast!"

"Who are they Officer?"

"Not sure, but they aren't Dilgar." Trinki said. "Weapons fire, they're engaging!"

A dozen small ships cut through space from the direction of Bestine, at their centre a larger and better armed command vessel coordinated their actions. The fast squadron opened up on the Dilgar flank, each ship having fairly weak plasma weapons but when combined with their colleagues provided a heavy wall of gun fire.

The already damaged Destroyer on the flanks was overwhelmed within thirty seconds, falling apart as it was destroyed by degrees. The neighbouring ships tried to engage the new attackers but the fast moving warships had already broken formation and were retiring rapidly from range.

"Firing solution!" Franir announced excitedly.

"Take it." Cashik responded, impressed her gunners had managed to find a clean lock amid the confused battle.

The cruisers guns spoke again, making their presence felt by expertly slicing into a Dilgar destroyer, detonating its fuel stores and completely shattering its rearmost half including the engines. A desolated green box containing its sensors and a few silenced weapons drifted with false peace serenely away, all that now remained of the ship and crew.

"Last two ships are running." Trinki said. "Jump points forming."

"Keep us clear." Cashik said. "Find me a damage report."

Cashik checked her nearby display screen and called up scans of the new ships, a three dimensional shaded model rotated in the middle of the screen with text on its dimensions and weaponry highlighted beside it. The small ships were new to her, but the larger ship suddenly struck her as very familiar.

"One of ours." She said to herself. "Old Abbai patrol cruiser."

"Captain?"

Trinki had silently stepped up beside her and overheard the mutterings.

"Nothing Officer." Cashik took the report, it was very short and with no particular problems. "What about the other ships?"

"They took a few hits but sensors show they are sound, I'll have them transmit a detailed report to us."

"Thank you, but first get me a line to the new ships."

"At once Ma'am."

Cashik had only to wait a minute before the connection was established.

"I am Captain Cashik, Abbai Self Defence fleet."

"Greetings Captain, I am Commander Lelant of the Alacan starship Pyrotina, and it is an honour to meet you."

Cashik now knew why this ship was familiar, she had seen it on the news years ago travelling the League trying to warn them about the Dilgar, that the hostile race was going to attack the League and they had to act to stop them. The League had ignored this lone ship, and countless billions had paid with their lives for that laisez faire attitude.

"Commander, you have my gratitude." Cashik meant it, but her words sounded hollow, the knowledge of where this ship had come from and why a bitter knife in her heart. Her people had ignored the Alacans in their hour of need, they had felt sympathy but not enough to send a fleet to their world and force a Dilgar retreat. They had suffered for nearly two years under Dilgar occupation, even a year ago her superiors had judged the Alacan species to be extinct.

"You are welcome Captain, we had help from Captain Marso and the surviving ships of the Mitoc defence fleet."

Again Cashik felt like she was going to be sick, the Mitoc were another race under direct Dilgar occupation. At least her home remained under Abbai control, even if it was under siege.

"That explains why I did not recognize your allies, they fought skilfully and bravely."

"Thank you, I shall pass that on to Marso." Lelant bowed his head slightly. "Your timing couldn't be better Captain, we came here to find you."

"Find us?"

"We have some bad news, the Descari government is in session and ready to receive you. We should land and start the talks at once."

"We will be there Commander, Syontar out."

The screen went blank and Cashik could breath again, she hadn't even noticed her chest had been as tight as iron while talking to the master of the alien ship.

"Alacans." Trinki said in a mix of awe and unfathomable sadness.

"I know." Cashik echoed. "I thought they had been killed months ago, they actually made it."

"That one ship," Franir whispered hoarsely. "The only thing that got out of that system before the Dilgar shut it down."

"They might be the last Alacans left alive." Trinki said. "One ship."

Nobody said it, but the thoughts of the crew all turned to their own plight, and the fact that in the Pyrotina they were looking at their own future. A scant few refugees flying back and forth trying to find some forlorn hope that would rescue their world, never accepting the obvious truth that after all this time there was probably nothing left to save.

Cashik felt like crying, but somewhere along the line had lost the ability.

"Make for the planet, best possible speed." The Captain ordered. "Inform the Ambassador the Descari are prepared for us."

"Captain, there is something else." Trinki raised her voice calmly. "Governor Lacor of the Brakiri is dead."

Cashik froze. "Their ship only took one hit."

"Seems it was enough Captain, he was the only casualty."

The Abbai senior officer shook her head, one more life might not seem much in this vast conflict, but on their tiny fleet every soul was familiar. Cashik knew the man, and while she hadn't greatly liked him his death was still a hammer blow.

"Understood." Cashik thought she sounded weary, really it wasn't a surprise. Nothing was a surprise anymore. "I'll tell our Ambassador, I can guess how she'll take it."

The diminished League fleet came about, the Descari still out of formation, and made for their next destination and their efforts to make a new unified front.

Bestine

Two hours later

The Descari homeworld was unusually attractive given the harsh attitutude most of its inhabitants displayed. The planet had truly enormous forests with some of the biggest trees on record reaching high into the thin powder blue sky. Like the Cascor the Descari had foregone cities for the most part and built up their homes in the immense trees, grand communities constructed of the hard wood of their environment. In many instances they had shaped the growth of the trees themselves forming great arches and buttresses from the living branches surrounding them.

From high above it was hard to see anything except the green canopy of leaves blanketing the land, pearlescent oceans meeting the green blanket with little in the way of beaches or cliffs. The lower the League parties came though the more familiar structures became. Amid the wooden homes were glints of metal, communication masts painted a worn green protruded unnoticed through the canopy, gun batteries rested on towers just below the obscuring leaves and channels were seen through the forests to facilitate landings and travel.

"We have clearance and a vector." The pilot reported. "Setting landing thrusters."

Itala didn't really need to know, but the commentary was a welcome noise in the silence of the shuttle. The death of Governor Lacor had shaken the League party quite seriously, it had been a sharp reminder of their own mortality and the extremely precarious nature of their existence. If they stumbled on even a moderately powerful Dilgar squadron they would likely all be killed despite the best efforts of Captain Cashik. It had been close enough today.

"The Brakiri are drawing up a shortlist of new representatives." Kalika spoke softly beside the Abbai Ambassador.

"I am sure they will choose wisely, Lacor had a large entourage. At least one of them has to be a diplomat."

"Let's hope so." Kalika was not enthused.

"Were you surprised to see the Alacans?" Itala changed the subject.

Kalika nodded hastily. "Yes, it's amazing they are still in one piece."

"They've been on the run for two years, I can't imagine how they survived." Itala agreed. "Or what they went through to get here."

The shuttle glided easily through the canopy and descended to a well maintained landing pad within walking distance of a large government building, probably the Leagues own meeting place on Bestine. It probably hadn't seen use in months, probably longer based on the relatively distant relations between the planets owners and the League.

The Descari were large Ape like creatures, not dissimilar to Earths Neanderthal species in overall appearance but with more advanced brains allowing them to grasp the concepts of stellar technology. As a race the Descari were not advanced and could offer very little in terms of naval forces, their ships were generally based on scavenged technology and fell apart quite quickly when taking on a real enemy as the Dilgar had just proven.

A big problem was the Descari attitude, they had an insular and distrustful view of things around them to the point of Xenophobia. Their involvement with the League was entirely mercenary and they contributed the bare minimum to the group, just enough to benefit from the name and what it meant for their protection. Unfortunately that name had proven to mean nothing as world after world fell to Deathwalker and her kind.

Since the basic collapse of the League the Descari had grown even more hostile and fearful, but the fact they had accepted them ambassadors told Itala they were probably terrified of the Dilgar and would take whatever help they could. They knew they were going to be next.

The meeting hall was already occupied by a dozen or so elder Descari, likely senior officials and ministers. As Itala predicted they looked extremely nervous and while they tried to keep a straight face their body language was a dead give away. Each member watched as Itala, Kalika, Tullaq and Commodore Shiree of the Hyach took their seats.

The Abbai ambassador also noted with restrained surprise a healthy number of Alacans gathered among the mostly empty places of the meeting room, along with some Mitoc and even one Krish representative. All three races looked somewhat more gathered and relaxed than the Descari, and indeed more so than Itala's party. They had already seen the worst happen, perhaps come to term with it in their own way and were now resolutely fixed on their path.

That certainty must have been a welcome distraction from the thoughts that no doubt plagued them about their homes, as they did for the Abbai, Brakiri and others respectively. For all their peace it seemed certain that inside they shared the heart stopping horror of what may be happening to their worlds under Dilgar occupation, a sensation Itala could not and surely did not want to imagine feeling.

"This meeting is in session."

The largest of the Descari, a male with a bristling shock of grey hair announced in accented Abbai. His voice was loud and clear, obviously the product of years of public speaking, however behind his level tone the leaders eyes darted back and forth nervously like a prey beast cornered by a predator looking for an avenue to escape.

"First matter, Commander Lelant if you would make your report."

With a nod the slightly built Alacan officer stood up, his blue and red uniform paleand threadbare at the shoulders and elbows showing the battering it had been put through. The Pyrotinia had escaped with literally just the shirts on their backs, overloaded with refugees and recovered fighters their journey was a tale of extreme endurance and unfailing valour. Itala would have to hear it after this meeting.

"Delegates, it is my duty to inform you N'Chak'Fah has fallen to the Dilgar advance."

"How?" Kalika spoke up voicing the surprise of the League party. "We were only there a week ago!"

"You were lucky." Lelant conveyed calmly. "The Dilgar Second Strike Fleet arrived less than ten hours after your departure catching half the Pak'ma'ra merchants still gathering their valuables and many refugees. Our scans indicated everything in orbit was wiped out within half an hour."

Ambassador Itala could guess with accuracy the prevailing thoughts of her party, first relief at evading the enemy and then guilt for making it out while thousands had perished in their wake. The image of the Pak'ma'ra trading post was still very present in their minds, the odd but unthreatening inhabitants shuffling back and forth in their relaxed nature even at this time of war still stamped an indelible impression on the delegation.

"What about the Gaim?" Shiree asked

"As you know they have no useable space force." Lelant said. "Our final sweep showed Mass Driver units lining up for massive orbital strikes. By this time we doubt any above surface cities remain."

"Luckily most Gaim exist underground in their hives." Itala added. "Reinforced to cope with millennia of civil war between the Gaim Queens, they are probably well protected."

"What about biological weapons?" Shiree questioned.

"The Gaim are masters of biological science, I am positive they can counter these toys Jha'dur plays with." Itala's response was delivered with total confidence, though in her heart the Ambassador was far less certain. Jha'dur's latest works used against the Cascor had been a mixture of biological and technological systems, a truly unholy hybrid that by all reports had proven adept at penetrating the full environmental suits worn by medics trying to contain the virus' and outbreaks. Only military grade combat suits had proven tough enough to resist the Nanological attack, and they were few and far between.

"Our main concern now is what the Dilgar do next." Lelant directed the conversation back. "Chancellor Grollor has already instituted emergency actions, but we wanted to hear what the League has to offer."

"You have the floor." The elder Descari, presumably the fore mentioned Chancellor, gestured to Itala. "What can the League offer to help us?"

Itala stood and prepared a grim report.

"Simply put, the League has nothing left to offer you. Our fleets are broken and pinned protecting our various homeworlds, our resources are dwindling under incessant Dilgar raids and our morale is approaching rock bottom." She forced herself to deliver her final painful assessment. "The League as we knew it is dead."

The Descari shared a few frantic looks, the Alacans and Mitoc still seemingly calm and emotionless. Itala considered their empty stares reminded her of Captain Cashik. Perhaps one day she too would share that forlorn gaze as hope steadily vanished.

"So if you have nothing to offer why are you here?" The Chancellor demanded, some rage slipping through.

"Because we still have a chance." Itala began. "Because the old League may have fallen but many of its members are free. This world, the Yolu, the Markab, the Vree. Powerful nations with well tried ships."

"What good will that do against the Dilgar?" Chancellor Grollor grunted. "They've beaten nearly two thirds of the entire League navy. Two Thirds!"

"The Dilgar succeeded through superior tactics and training." Itala answered. "We underestimated them, that won't happen again."

"They tore apart anything that touched them."

"Not true, the Drazi have recently mounted a successful counter attack." The Abbai returned. "The tide is turning, the Dilgar have withdrawn their best fleets to take on the Drazi, our front is significantly weakened. Now is the time to strike."

"But strike with what?" The Chancellor asked loudly. "Our navy would be slaughtered!"

"Alone, yes, but as part of an alliance of free League worlds, we have the numbers and technology to drive back this Dilgar fleet!"

"You mean join the Vree, Yolu and Markab?"

"Exactly." Itala underlined. "These three races are far more advanced then the Dilgar, if they went to war together we can stop this over stretched fleet in its tracks!"

"Wait." Grollor raised a heavy hand. "You said 'if' they join the war."

Itala nodded. "We haven't asked them yet, this was our first port of call."

"So you can't even tell us if there will be an alliance?"

"No."

"And I suppose you need Descari ships?"

"As many as you can spare."

The Chancellor exhaled heavily. "None. We can spare none."

"Mr Chancellor, please." Itala spoke passionately. "With a Descari armada travelling with us it is much more likely we will convince the other races to join."

"I have a thousand Dilgar ships heading this way, and you want me to split up the fleet?" Grollor questioned with incredulity. "Unthinkable!"

"Chancellor, unless we unite the Dilgar will pick us off one by one, just like they did before!"

"Then come here with a Markab or Vree fleet to defend this world!" Grollor snapped. "You save my people from extermination first! You bring some victorious Drazi battle group, or some mythical Yolu super ship, or even what's left of your precious Abbai and Hyach fleets! We will fight the Dilgar, nothing will change that, but we will not leave our home undefended!"

The Descari leaders words echoed for a few moments even after he had finished speaking, such was the vehemence and power of their delivery. It was an ultimatum but not one born of politics or some sort of economic gain, the Descari position was one of total and petrifying fear.

Itala let the Chancellor regain his composure before continuing, his blood still colouring his face as he resumed breathing more steadily.

"Let me be clear." She said. "Your fleet, if it fights the Dilgar alone, will be destroyed."

"Your confidence in us is admirable."

"But accurate."

"So, rather than fight and die for our home you would have us fight and die elsewhere for your home?" Grollor asked.

"You would fight to liberate us all." Itala said. "If the Dilgar come here nothing will prevent them conquering you, nothing except a united fleet. We might be able to set that up before the Dilgar arrive and make this the decisive battle, but not without your help."

"I will say this." The Chancellor announced formally. "We will join this fleet, this unified Navy of Liberation, but we will not be the first, and we will not deploy our ships away from home unless your alliance is strong enough to beat the Dilgar."

Itala could see she wasn't going to make a difference here. "Very well Chancellor, we will take your pledge with us to the Yolu."

"So let it be settled." He concluded formally. "Item two, in the event this alliance fails we have a contingency plan, evacuation."

"Of what?" Commodore Shiree asked.

"Of the Descari." Replied Grollor.

"With respect, you can't hope to evacuate a planetary population." Itala spoke carefully.

"No, but we will send as many as possible in our own and hired ships." Grollor explained. "We have already secured a huge number of Vree, Pak'ma'ra and human vessels to help."

"Where do you plan to go?" Kalika wondered.

"Anywhere." Replied the Chancellor. "Our first waves have already left for Yolu, Markab and Human space."

"And they have accepted these ships?" Itala frowned.

"Well they haven't been turned back, and we understand the humans have special refugee cities on on eof their colonies built for the war refugees, from all our peoples."

Itala hadn't heard a thing about Abbai refugees after Tirrith, it was welcome news at least some seemed to have survived even though it had meant them travelling across a huge distance.

"It is our hope to visit these humans." Itala stated. "But we cannot be sure of outside help, this is the Leagues war. Already the Narn have turned us down, and the Centauri would never help us."

"There is an alternative we haven't considered." Shiree raised. "The Minbari."

"Minbari?" Chancellor Grollor repeated in some puzzlement. "Who are the Minbari?"

"The Minbari are an old story." Itala said. "No one has seen one in decades, perhaps centuries. They live on the far side of Centauri space and are staunch isolationists. We will receive no help from them."

"Our stories tell us the Minbari fought in the great war of Darkness." Shiree pressed on. "The Markab speak highly of them, they claim to have a strong sense of honour and a dedication to good over evil."

"What they had a thousand years ago may not be what they have today." The Abbai said. "If all else fails we can try, but if the histories are correct the Minbari must be already aware of this war. Their silence is deafening."

"Many consider the Dilgar to be demons." Commander Lelant added. "True soldiers of darkness, the inheritors of the great enemy of a thousand years ago."

"The Dilgar are just sentients like the rest of us." Itala shook her head. "They are not supernatural, they are not creatures of myth here to eat your souls. They are soldiers, nothing more. They are the best trained and the best led in the galaxy, but they have weaknesses and we can exploit them. If we work together."

"Fine words." Grollor said. "But show me a fleet that can win a battle with the Dilgar and will we join. Not before." He stood. "This meeting is over, may the Maker take pity on us all."

The Descari vacated the room quickly without further comment, each with a pressing agenda weighing on them and whatever department they served. The plan to evacuate their world seemed like a rushed solution, there had been no mention as to how the evacuation would occur or how they would select people. Like most of what Itala had seen of the Descari it was disorganized and panicked. Deep down she sympathized.

"What do we do now?" Shiree asked out loud.

"Now we set course for Yolu space and pray they listen." The Abbai Ambassador said simply. "There is nothing else we can do here."

"The Descari are afraid." Lelant pointed out. "We should not resent them for their fears, I'm sure somewhere inside we all feel the same."

"I do." Itala said. "But it will not stop me doing what is necessary, despite the risk. I learned that the hard way."

She turned to Lelant, the last free Alacan leader in the Galaxy. Itala moved with a stateliness that belied her rather large size, a poise that came from serving in the Royal Court of the Matriarch.

"Commander, the Abbai Nation apologises for not acting more decisively when Alaca was attacked."

The statement seemed to come from nowhere greatly surprising the assembled delegates. As the Dilgar had advanced and the key worlds of the League were overrun the example of Alaca had been prevalent in the minds of the survivors. Their fate was foreshadowed by that world, the storming, orbital bombardment and biological warfare all repeated across the battlefronts. The Alacans, Lelant himself, had warned the League, told them that what was happening on Alaca would be repeated League wide and he had been ignored, scorned or pitied.

Then he had been proven absolutely correct.

"We should have lanched an immediate attack, tried to liberate you as soon as the Dilgar arrived." Itala said. "We left your people to their fate, and in so doing emboldened the Dilgar to push their advantage. We doomed you, and in so doing doomed the entire League to a painful death." She sighed. "Some days I think we deserve this fate, that it is the Great Maker's punishment brought down upon us for ignoring your pleas. We failed in the most fundamental aspect of a civilization, to aid our neighbours in their hour of greatest need. Perhaps we do not deserve to live."

Commander Lelant carefully moved closer to Itala so he would not need to shout, but so quiet was the room he could have whispered from the highest stalls and still have been heard.

"Ambassador, I don't know how many Alacans are left. I do know that I am a Naval officer, not a diplomat or politician or great Religious leader. I wasn't picked by my people to represent them so I can't in good conscience say I represent their views, beliefs of opinions."

He looked to the other League members, like him they were a wide mix of military, political and civilian individuals thrown together by circumstance.

"But For whomever I can speak for I will say Alaca does not hold a grudge. We're beyond that now, all we've been through, all we've seen, it changes people profoundly. We don't blame you for your reluctance to fight for us, we understand. None of us can change the past, but we can change the future by learning from the mistakes we've made and uniting."

Lelant's past year had been hell, he had been where the League was now, he had warned people and watched helpless as potential ally after potential ally had fallen all too rapidly in battle. Like the Balosians he had live dlife on the run begging and borrowing food and supplies to keep his lone ship active. Unlike the Balosians he had no fleet, no way to at least raid a Dilgar convoy and exact a measure of retribution. He had no physical power, but through that had learned a wide array of evasion and survival skills.

"We are all being hunted." He continued. "The Dilgar know about your Ambassadorial fleet and have patrols out in order to destroy it, just like us. They want to stop your mission succeeding. Our mission."

Shiree came to a sudden realisation. "Those ships we fought past, they were here to intercept us?"

"Probably." Lelant agreed. "Dilgar military intelligence seems to have actually started getting its act together this last month."

"And we don't have the firepower to handle even one light squadron." Itala said. "We have a cruiser and two Frigates."

"With your agreement I'd like to change those adds." Lelant proposed. "The Pyrotinia is old but shes seen more action than any ship in the League. Plus with Captain Marso we can add the Mitoc Frigates to our force. It won't be the Free Balosian Fleet but it will make a Dilgar Pentacan think twice."

"It would be a humbling privilege to travel with you." Itala said with complete sincerity.

"As we all agree, we are stronger united than we are alone." Lelant voiced. "We share a common goal, the greatest and most vital task in the history of each of our civilizations. We can't fail, whatever the cost we just cannot fail."

Itala bowed her head slightly. "Thank you for your words Commander, nothing will ever truly erase the guilt I bear when I think of the suffering of your people or the part we played in allowing it. But than you none the less, you are a better person than I am."

"Not better, we are all the same now." The Alacan said. "We at least are in perfect union, now we just have to convince the rest of the League to do the same."

"What do you think the Descari's chances are?" Shiree piped in.

"Officer Tullaq?" Itala asked. "You've seen the Dilgar fighting up close, what is your view?"

"Honestly?" She shook her head slowly. "Every one of them is going to die in minutes. They are outnumbered, outgunned and woefully outclassed. Based on that display when we arrived they're going to be target practice for a well drilled Strike Fleet."

"I agree." Marso spoke for the first time in a hoarse voice. "The Dilgar will gut them."

"Even if the Yolu agree to help the Dilgar move fast." Lelant contributed. "There is no one who can get here before the Dilgar, this world will fall."

"Then we must retake it quickly before the Dilgar can wipe out the whole population." Itala said. "The Descari army is not to be sniffed at, ill led as they are they have strong soldiers and an iron will. They'll be useful when we have to drive Dilgar ground troops out of our colonies."

"With respect," Tullaq spoke. "We should leave. If the Dilgar are on their way we need to be somewhere else."

"Agreed, we can't stay." Lelant responded.

"I don't like the idea of abandoning this world to its fate." Kalika raised a concern.

"There is nothing we can do." Itala replied. "Our fleet won't make a difference here fighting, but in the long run we can save this world by organizing a liberation force, and doing so quickly."

"Yolu territory then." Shiree made her way to the door. "Think they'll be more receptive?"

"They have to be." Itala made a show of confidence, something that was hollow, a shell with nothing to back it up. "We are fast running out of allies."

She glanced at the Alacan party, her heart aching not just for them but for the glimpse of the future they represented for all the League.

"We were wrong, and we can only hope somebody will learn from our mistakes and do something before the Dilgar kill everything between the core and the rim."


	54. Chapter 54

53

Tithalis Star System

Disputed Space

The music rose to a crescendo of voices and percussion, the grand climax to the lengthy opera relating the story of Sol'kist, one of the greatest warriors of Drazi legend. A warrior who had fought in the service of one of the old city states, slaying both beasts and whole cadres of hostile soldiers single handed. So great was his skill and fame he had become a potential rival to the king of the city state who then had him poisoned.

The opera ended with the weakened Sol'kist driving his short sword through the heart of his king, earning retribution with his final breath. It was one of the most popular tales in Drazi history, showing the courage and skill of their race and the fervent belief that revenge will always be achieved. Understandably the story had seen a massive resurgence in popularity as the Dilgar war dragged on with defeat following defeat, with many hailing Warleader Stro'kath as the Sol'kist of this new age. His political removal only serving to increase his standing among the Drazi public.

Naturally enough this greatly angered General Yanli who had succeeded Stro'kath as commander of the Dilgar front. His activities and strategy had been implanted over Stro'kath's plan, indeed Yanli had pulled many strings to sabotage supply deliveries which had ultimately forced the abandonment of Operation Retributive Strike and hopefully prevented Stro'kaths ascendance to power after the war.

Retributive Strike was a good plan, but Yanli knew his own to be better. His planned called for a flanking attack, not a Dilgar style Blitzkrieg like Stro'kath wanted. Stro'kath wanted the Drazi to fight like Dilgar, which was heresy to Yanli and had immediately turned him against it. Yanli's forces would fight like Drazi, they would use manoeuvre to outwit the Dilgar and courage combined with numbers to thwart them. They would win the war like Drazi, final and undisputable truth that Drazi warriors and their traditions were the superior warrior culture.

The fact history would remember Yanli's plan as the final instrument of victory over the Dilgar was a bonus. He also expected to be leading his people within a decade.

The addition of the Hurr was something of a master stroke in Yanli's opinion. The race shared a border with the Drazi and their homeworld of Androma was one jump from Latig, a world constantly changing hands between Drazi and Dilgar fleets. Currently it resided in Drazi hands with a small detachment garrisoning the system. The Hurr hated the Drazi, but hated and feared the Dilgar to a much higher level and through necessity would now fight against the invaders. Their sense of self preservation and the enticement of seizing Dilgar territory too much for them to adequately resist.

The Drazi were happy to allow this and would let the Hurr believe they were turning the war. They would lead the flanking attack against the Dilgar with Drazi ships following up. While Yanli had kept it quiet he expected the Hurr fleet to be utterly shredded by the Dilgar within one or two battles, but in so doing they would absorb fire that would otherwise claim Drazi ships which would then administer the decisive strike.

The Hurr were good old fashioned cannon fodder.

What made the arrangement even better was that the Hurr had in the past claimed Latig as their own and fought numerous border skirmishes with the Drazi. While they would likely try and claim that system as their own again during the offensive they wouldn't have the numbers to hold on to it, thanks to Deathwalker. In its weakened state the Drazi Navy was slightly concerned about a concentrated attack by the Hurr, but this way their coreward neighbours would be in no position to mount any military action for years afterwards.

As a human trader mentioned, it was like killing two cats with one stone. Something like that.

All the pieces were in place, fleets were deployed, plans communicated and Hurr forces on the move. The timetable called for an attack within two days coming from Latig, with The Drazi fleets there linking with the Hurr and attacking the Dilgar forces in Tithalis. At the same time Yanli would attack the Dilgar Tithalis fleet from a different direction catching it in a pincer.

Once Tithalis was taken Omelos was wide open, and the end of the war in sight. The problem was the Dilgar navy, Yanli had seen no more than half a fleet, a few hundred ships at best in the Tithalis zone. A very poor defence feet. He knew Warmaster Dar'sen was out there somewhere and the Dilgar Homefleet, but nobody knew what else was out there.

They knew the Dilgar rimward fleet hadn't been recalled, it was reportedly bombarding the Gaim, so as far as Yanli was concerned the Dilgar hadn't been reinforced. He suspected the Home fleet had likely been recalled to Omelos while Dar'sen was acting as a mobile reserve. Based on reported losses he doubted the Third Strike fleet had barely half its former strength.

The big question mark was Jha'dur.

Intelligence had indicated she had been spotted on Omelos meaning she was in the area, however with the news of the Gaim assault and the fall of Vargas Yanli could see that the Dilgar were still driving for the rim and knocking out the surviving League members. They hadn't seemed to care enough about the Drazi to scramble every ship and heavily bolster their front lines around Tithalis. Yanli was going to make them pay for that arrogance.

The Rimward fleet was sufficiently strong to completely overpower anything thrown at them and based on Pak'ma'ra recordings it had continued to use the brutal and efficient tactics of Deathwalker. Yanli reasoned that after meeting the council Jha'dur had gone back and continued masterminding the destruction of the League and had taken her forces with her. By the time they realised their mistake it would be all over.

He did briefly entertain the idea that Jha'dur had taken command of this front, but without her fleet he doubted it would make a difference. She had built a reputation in the early days of the war and many veterans of those battles were terrified of her. Yanli on the other hand considered her overrated and her success more due to surprise than skill. The Drazi fleet had changed and would not suffer another series of disasters like those of the original campaign.

Eventually she would need to be beaten, but Dar'sen would be first. The older Dilgar leader had proven a stubborn and relatively skilled foe over the last few months. Yanli would enjoy the coming struggle.

Almost perfectly on cue Yanli was alerted by a chiming signal, its tingly tone merging with the last few notes of the opera as it ended.

"General here." He answered brusquely.

"Bridge, we have Dilgar contacts."

He sat up, suddenly very alert. "Direction and strength?"

"It looks like the Guard fleet, it's heading this way at full speed."

"No sign of any support?"

"No General."

Yanli felt a nasty smile, he outnumbered these ships and they were of fairly low quality.

"I suppose they couldn't wait for their fate to arrive, well we won't disappoint them. Battle stations, alert all units and prepare to attack."

The General's fleet had seen action at Fendamir but not during Stro'kaths seizure of this system, it had instead relieved Yanli's comrade General Indriz when she had been assigned the position of strategic reserve based at Fendamir. High command had not forgotten Indriz had gone to help Stro'kath in violotion of orders, but it had however secured half of the Tithalis system for the Drazi meaning she had not suffered the same fate as the old Warleader.

Her fleet would probably be the first unit into the Dilgar home system, an honour to be sure but likely a short one. Projected casualties for her fleet were a hundred percent. Somebody had to lead the way, and Yanli didn't mind if that person was a potential future rival.

The war had greatly helped Yanli's ambitions by thinning the herd somewhat, all his political rivals had found themselves having unfortunate encounters with Dilgar warships, often without Yanli's intervention. He had gone from a mid level staff officer to the de facto commander of the Drazi fleet, something he would happily capitalize on.

Quickly he made his way to the command deck and assumed his place in the dominant position, the small crew already seated and waiting for orders.

"General, all wings are reporting ready." His aide reported.

"All ahead full." Yanli ordered. "Once we achieve sufficient velocity accelerate to attack speed. We'll hit them hard and fast and not give them a chance to respond."

In sequence the Drazi ships began to move, the forward elements advancing first with each subsequent wave following on a t a short interval. The crews were eager but cautious, a healthy mix for a Drazi, but did not share the same cold discipline as the fleet Stro'kath had trained. Yanli's fleet was better than the badly coordinated units from the start of the war, but they were still dangerously overconfident and would not hold together in a prolonged battle.

"Dilgar ships are firing missiles." The Aide said.

"At this range?" Yanli raised an armoured eyebrow. "Careless of them, gives us plenty of time to shoot them down. I don't think we're dealing with a professional Warmaster."

"A subordinate eager for glory?"

"Probably." Yanli confirmed. "And he's just thrown away a precious fleet for his own vanity. Attack speed, fire on the missiles."

With a slight shudder the throttles opened to their maximum capacity and threw the Drazi ships onward. Yanli was now fully committed, turning or breaking away at this speed would be impossible and likely tear the ship apart. They could manoeuvre enough to avoid colliding with their foes but not much more. Naturally that was fine for the Drazi, they weren't planning on running away.

"General, Dilgar ships are turning away!" His aide beamed. "They are accelerating!"

"All of them?"

"Yes sir! They're running, they've turned Ninety degrees and are fleeing."

The screen confirmed it, the Dilgar ships fired another uncoordinated missile volley then turned broadside on to Yanli and tried to avoid his charging warships.

"Too late now Dilgar." He hissed. "You can't outrun us."

The Dilgar ships began firing with their available weapons, at long range most of the fire missed with the few on target rounds causing mediocre damage. One Sunhawk flipped wildly over in a repeated barrel roll, making a full spin every half second after a Dilgar particle bolt twisted one of its wing engines out of position, still locked at full throttle. The vessel spun faster and faster disappearing out of formation with its crew long beyond saving.

The other ships however held formation and made the minor adjustments necessary to hit the Dilgar fleet.

"Target the nearest ship." Yanli ordered. "We'll commence a slashing attack through their fleet, one pass should be enough. Then we slow down and come back for stragglers."

"Yes General, the fleet is informed."

"Their commander is a fool, if he'd met us head on he could have made us pay dearly with his heavy weapons. By turning his flank to us we will barely take any casualties."

"A perfect target." The Aide said. "We couldn't have prayed for a better position to attack from."

"Time to optimum range?"

"Thirty seconds."

"Hold fire until then, but make sure those missiles are down."

The Drazi ships maintained a light scattering of gunfire bringing down the Dilgar missiles with ease. They were still far enough away to ignore the poor disruptive fire from the fleeing Dilgar ships, further inspiring confidence in the Drazi.

"An excellent start to the campaign." Yanli affirmed.

He was of course completely right, unfortunately it was the Dilgar who had set up the perfect opening positions for their counter attack. Yanli had been most obliging.

3rd Strike Fleet

Hyperspace.

Z+ 5 minutes

"Signal from Battlemaster Yeg'dra, he has lured the Drazi fleet into position."

Dar'sen acknowledged the report from the sensor officer. "Order him to come about and meet the Drazi head on."

"Yes Warmaster."

"By the time they reach Yeg'dratheir won't be much left for him to mop up." Dar'sen mused. "Shame we had to meet this General Yanli."

"Sir?" Captain Ca'ra, his second in command perked up his ears.

"I was getting used to creative Drazi, this fool is attacking in the same old style, and we're going to meet them in the sam eold style."

"I'm sure we'll face Stro'kath soon sir."

Dar'sen smiled. "I'm looking forward to it."

The bridge of the Dreadnought still bore the scars of the recent boarding action it had endured, and while the various wrecked computers and controls had been replaced Dar'sen insisted on leaving the burns and dents from weapons fire unchanged on the walls. It was a reminder of their victory. Likewise captured Drazi swords and bludgeoning weapons were mounted through the corridors and mess rooms as trophies, there had even been talk of mounting Drazi heads of the dead Marines.

Dar'sen however had ruled that out, though he understood Jha'dur enjoyed keeping similar trophies of her enemies. He'd never seen it but he had heard she had jars full of eyes removed without any painkillers. That sort of thing did not appeal to Dar'sens more aristocratic sensibilities.

"Jump engines ready, coordinates received from Yeg'dra's fleet."

"Very well, all ships will fire as soon as we make the jump, you have your firing solutions already programmed. Watch your spacing and firing lines." Dar'sen issued the final reminders. "Alright, take us in."

Making the transition to real space was something Dar'sen had done a thousand times but it still made him nervous. He would never admit it of course but there was so much that could go wrong, especially with a full fleet jump, that it petrified him. His greatest fear was an accident while transitioning hyperspace. Legend said that if a ship exploded between hyperspace and real space its occupants would be trapped in limbo forever, frozen in time at the instant of death suffering an eternity of agony as their bodies refused to die.

Most people didn't believe in it, but Dar'sen did and after talking to Warmaster Sha'dur who was as much an expert in hyperspace physics as Jha'dur was in biology, it had been confirmed as possible. Nothing filled him with more dread.

Fortunately the jump went perfectly with each ship arriving safely and more or less in position, though calculating precisely where the jump point would form was an art beyond the Dilgar. They were usually accurate to within ten miles, which was enough for safe travel but not enough for offensive use.

To say Dar'sens's arrival was a surprise does not really do justice to the ripples of panic that ran through the Drazi fleet. One second they were the predators sensing blood in the form of an out of position Dilgar fleet, then they became the prey every bit as vulnerable as the enemies they thought they had in their grasp.

Dar'sen's forces were moving in from the forward right flank of the Drazi ships, while Yeg'dra's ships were now turning toward the front of the Drazi and preparing a precisely timed all out strike. Far from being a disorganized rabble the local fleet was displaying the discipline and training that had become hallmarks of the Dilgar Navy, a tight turn in perfect formation putting them in an excellent first strike position. A skilled General should have spotted that while the Dilgar seemed to be running they were in fact maintaining an orderly formation, hardly a sign of panic.

Unfortunately Yanli was not an especially skilled General, he had taken the bait, rushed his whole fleet forward and now the Dilgar Warmaster had sprung his trap.

To make matters worse the 3rd Strike fleet was not the anaemic force Yanli expected but a heavily reinforced battle group. With its numbers bolstered by worthy survivors of earlier battles Dar'sen's command was over strength by almost twenty percent, a truly formidable fighting force and in terms of raw firepower the most destructive fleet the Dilgar had. And it had caught Yanli out of position, out of control, and out of luck.

"Solution locked in, weapons charged, enemy are exactly where we want them." Ca'ra announced with evident satisfaction, after the hard battles of the Drazi counter attack it was good to be on the offensive again with an easy target ahead of them.

"All batteries and all ships, fire at will." Dar'sen leaned expectantly forward in his chair. "Remind them who they are facing."

Dar'sen's fleet opened fire at an area of space in front of the Drazi fleet, a massive barrage not focused on any one ship in particular but designed to create a wall of high energy death in the path of Yanli's forces. The Drazi ships were moving so fast they had no hope of decelerating or even turning away, their momentum took them straight into the firing plots of the Third Strike fleet and a firestorm of titanic proportions.

The results for the Drazi were horrendous, their ships slamming one after another into the storm twisting and turning wildly as they tried to power away in a new direction. Most ships cut their engines, back flipped and then accelerated at emergency power in the opposite direction. Unfortunately they had built up so much speed the change in engine direction barely shaved a few percent off their forward velocity before they crossed into the firing line.

Other vessels made powered turns, their hulls bendind and buckling as they forced the ship away. In most cases they evasive action caused as much damage as a direct hit and those that survived were crippled and easy pickings for after the battle. Some ships more sensibly cut engines, turned to face ninety degrees to their direction of travel and then accelerated. These ships followed a more gradual curve but like their comrades often it just wasn't enough to get them clear in time. Different ships would go to emergency power and try to pass through the firestorm at full burn, hoping to be through before they were hit. There was no set plan, each Captain did what he thought best and the fleet ceased to be a single unit and instead became uncoordinated groups of single ships trying to survive.

The results were disastrous, Yanli had grouped his ships in tightly together to maximise their impact when they hit the fleeing Dilgar, this now had the effect of making them easier to bombard than a more dispersed fleet. The first wave vanished into the barrage and left existence, swept away by the concentrated fire. The weak hulls of the Drazi ships did little to hold back the multiple hits each ship took and within seconds the path in front of subsequent waves was choked with debris.

With evasive action so ineffective following ships would smash headlong into the broken remains of earlier vessels, often destroying or severely damaging the next ship in line. Damaged cruisers spun out of control and collided with their neighbours, panicked crews twisted and turned in random directions often running into other desperately manoeuvring vessels. It was a morass of silver and red insects crumbling, falling or outright exploding and that was before they even met the Dilgar river of fire.

Nearly half the Drazi fleet doomed itself under Yanli, those few that made it through the bombardment found themselves nose to nose with Battlemaster Yeg'dra and his fully redeployed and prepared battle line. The Dilgar crews took an inordinate amount of pleasure picking off the survivors, the Drazi had believed them to be running for their lives, and it had become a pleasure to prove them wrong.

The rearmost ships of the Drazi attack did however have just enough time to evade. Some near the centre of the formation were still caught in the barrage, but a significant number managed to get clear. The problem was in the confusion of the escape they had become scattered, splaying out in whichever direction seemed best to make a quick bolt for survival. It meant they missed the concentrated attack but were now isolated and distanced from the support and safety of their comrades.

"Cease fire." Dar'sen ordered calmly. He quickly took in the situation, calculated how long it would take for the Drazi to regroup and how best to exploit their predicament.

"Increase jamming." He ordered. "Let's keep the Drazi from talking to each other."

"Sir, it will severely affect our own communications." Ca'ra reminded cautiously.

"The difference is my Commanders are smart enough to hold formation without my constant orders and have enough initiative to fight effectively alone." The Warmaster grinned. "All ahead full, get us among the Drazi, keep them split up and pick them off."

"Understood sir, sending orders then initialising jammers."

The Warmaster nodded his approval and sat back. His crews were skilled enough that he didn't really need to contribute further to the success of the battle, all he had to do was watch his people at work and plan the next phase of the offensive.

With a fluid and unified purpose Dar'sen's fleet advanced and began a less intense but much more focused series of attacks, picking off Drazi stragglers first that foolishly ventured too close to the deadly fleet. Some Drazi bravely tried to attack, rushing in a mad fit of glory towards the teeth of the Dilgar. But unlike the great legends of childhood no single ship was going to make a difference today, and no display of almighty courage would alter the ultimate fate of Yanli's forces.

Yanli was still clinging to his seat when the deflection fire stop and Dar'sen began to move. The command Sunhawk was still straining at full power as it sought out an area of open space away from immediate threat. He didn't have time to see what happened to his fleet but on some instinctive level he knew that he was watching a disaster unfold before his eyes. This was really going to hurt his political career.

"We're picking up a lot of jamming!" His aide called.

"Throttle back, we must be clear by now!" Yanli snarled. "Issue the recall order!"

"Yes sir!" The Aide replied frantically. "But I don't know if it'll be received."

"Who are those ships?" Yanli demanded, ignoring his aides caution. "Where did they come from?"

"We identified the Dreadnought Terror before they engaged." The sensor officer stated. "Warmaster Dar'sen."

"I need a ship count now!"

"We're below half strength and losing ships fast!" The aide reported.

"The Dilgar have us outgunned, we can't fight back in this condition!"

"I decide whether we can fight back or not!" Yanli roared. "Bring us about and prepare to attack!"

Unfortunately with the lines of communication cut only a few dozen Drazi ships were close enough to hear the angry orders General Yanli was proclaiming. Even if the whole fleet could respond there would be no rally, no reordering and counter attack. The Drazi Purple fleet was broken, and only Yanli refused to see that.

Dar'sen's fleet pushed on relentlessly, a widening spear driving further into the Drazi heart which parted in sparks and glittering wreckage before it. For the Dilgar they were just mopping up stragglers now, the battle was over.

"We can't contact any other ships!"

"Keep trying!" Yanli yelled. "Find me a target!"

"General we must withdraw!"

"No!" he bellowed. "We give no ground!"

"We must save all the ships we can! We need to fall back and join General Indriz!"

"I am in command!" The General spat, screens all around him screaming disaster. "I am! Me! Not that damn fool Indriz! This is my fleet and I will do with it what I like!"

"We're getting massacred!"

"Then let it be a massacre!" Yanli roared on the brink of delirium. "Let us all go to hell at the hands of the Dilgar!"

Small groups of Drazi ships futilely threw themselves at the Dilgar and were cut down in turn. Dar'sen didn't even bother launching fighters, they just weren't needed. Fire and debris rained across space, red and white flickers betraying the carnage that burned behind their existence. The Drazi fleet was dying and leaving behind an exquisite field of blowing blossoms, each piece a fragmented ship. A pretty face on a bloodied corpse.

"Withdraw General!"

"How dare you!" Yanli leapt to his feet. "A mere aide ordering me?"

"You are risking our future!"

"I will not go home in failure! So Indriz and Stro'kath can look down on me? They already think I am not fit to clean their boots!"

The second in command was inclined to agree. "General." His voice dropped low. "We need to withdraw now."

"Go to hell!"

"Issue the order General." He stood before the officer. "Right now, or I'll kill you."

From his wrists two bright daggers slid down beneath his sleeves.

"Right now General."

Yanli laughed in his face. "You can't kill a staff officer mid battle! That's assassination!"

"Order it."

"We fight to the death!"

"No, only until your death."

With a swift strike the officer opened up his superiors throat, dropping Yanli back into his seat in a spasm of utter surprise.

"Helm, break off. Issue the recall order."

"Sir," the comms officer found his mouth completely dry, his eyes riveted on the dying General. "The jamming, the fleet will not hear us."

"Then open jump point." The second said, ignoring the gurgling sound behind him from the command chair. "When the fleet sees we are leaving they will follow."

"Understood sir."

The Captain looked down, bright white blood pooling at his feet given a pink hue from the bridges lighting. By killing Yanli he would likely face execution himself, but better to die alone facing his actions than with a whole fleet because of one mans madness. It was his only explanation for Yanli's dishonourable behaviour.

One by one the Drazi ships that could flee went to hyperspace, those isolated from jump capable ships made a last defiant assault on the Dilgar aiming to collide with their foes and take an enemy with them.

None even got close, Dar'sens gunners were among the best in the Galaxy.

"Warmaster, enemy fleet has fled." Captain Ca'ra informed.

"Estimated casualties?"

"Over seventy percent enemy losses." The aide said. "Less than five percent for our forces."

"An excellent victory." Dar'sen congratulated. "We needed a win, morale has been low but such a win will show the Galaxy exactly what the Dilgar are made of."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Once we are on the move there is no force in the galaxy that can resist us." Dar'sen affirmed. "We let our guard down, we were complacent and we have paid for that laxity. If anything it has made us stronger."

Ca'ra frowned. "With respect, how sir? We have lost many ships and risked our schedule."

"Simple, the ships lost were weak, soft." Dar'sen answered. "Not fit to be called Dilgar, the survivors, the ones who endured those battles and now make up this fleet, well they were forged in the fires of a hopeless battle. There is no one more dangerous than a warrior who has surrendered to death but then survived."

"Like us." Ca'ra understood.

"Jha'dur's fleet are all second chancers, outcasts and orphans, the dispossessed who have something to prove. That's why they fight so hard and with such bravery, they are fighting for a place in society. They fight to prove that they are worthy of being called Dilgar as she had to fight in the early days. As she likes saying, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Dar'sen called up a data chart showing the status of his fleet as he spoke.

"We're second chancers too, but our second chance is at life. We were ready to die but didn't, the gods did not take us but kept us alive for a reason, and that reason is to kill as many people as possible."

The old Warmaster smiled.

"We came back from the dead, and we brought all of hell with us."

Latig Star system

Disputed Space

Z + 15 minutes

"Roll fifteen degrees, ventral batteries maintain suppression fire, bow batteries alpha strike on my designated target."

Battlemaster Dal'shan was in his element, focused entirely on his ship, crew and mission as he had been taught over his entire life. He had the blessing of the best teacher any Dilgar could ask for, as soon of the Supreme Warmaster he had access to the man widely regarded as the best Ship commander in Dilgar history, Gar'shans tactics were the bedrock of Dilgar combat and the bane of most races.

As the elder of the three sons Dal'shan had often felt a pressure to perform, to live up to the mighty standards his Father had set which on most days was a nigh impossible task. No doubt his brothers also felt some pressure, but Dal'shan had long ago taken it on himself to follow steadfastly in his fathers footsteps.

That endeavour had become suddenly much easier when Gar'shan had adopted the orphan girl Jha'dur and her brother, children of his former first officer Ari'dur who had been killed on active duty. For a long time she had been left alone to se ehow she fared under her own devices, a cruel test perhaps but one designed to bring out her true personality. Once Gar'shan was satisfied he arranged for her to receive a commission in the navy and brought her into his household, in effect she had become one of his family.

Not that Dal'shan saw it that way, he hadn't seen a sister so much as a lover. While his initial efforts were fruitless five years ago she had finally accepted him and a tempestuous romance had begun. Jha'dur was certainly not the easiest person to get along with, she had a vast amount of fury built up inside from a great many sources, everything from her parents unfair deaths to Len'chars threats to her adoptive family. But on those occasions he could get past that sea of anger Dal'shan had found a surprisingly heartfelt person. A sliver of the sophisticated and compassionate person Jha'dur might have been had fate turned out differently.

Her path had been different to his, Dal'shan's own career was considered remarkable with perfect academy scores and his own command within three years, but Jha'dur left him in the shade. She was the youngest Warmaster in history, even younger than Gar'shan had been on his day of promotion, and her battle record was exemplary. She had surpassed any other officer in terms of both achievements and the age she made them, the Dilgar public were ready to proclaim her the greatest living Dilgar being, something which hugely aggravated her political rivals.

It was an open secret hat Gar'shan would name her his preferred successor for the role of Supreme Warmaster and she would be well received. He had trusted her with the rebuilding of the Imperium after the imminent solar disaster, Gar'shan had given his life to the point where he would likely be dead in months to the goal of establishing an eternal Imperium. It was truly his lifes work and he had entrusted it to Jha'dur.

Some men in Dal'shan's position would be furious at Jha'dur, would se eher as replacing him in his own fathers heart and taking the place he as elder son should attain. But not Dal'shan for he knew Jha'dur and he knew his father. There was no favouritism or emotion in the decision, it was purely practical. Warmaster Dar'sen also knew that, and while he was the senior officer and had served Gar'shan with faith for much longer than Jha'dur he had stepped aside without question.

Jha'dur was a born leader, with a combination of skills beyond any of them, Gar'shan included, and she would be leader one day over a new Imperium.

Jha'dur herself had accepted this responsibility for the same simple reasons Gar'shan gave it to her. But coming to terms with it was something very different, it was a huge job for any one person to rule an empire, and when that empire was as volatile as the Dilgar it was an even more monumental task. Like Gar'shan she would need a trusted circle of advisors, an inner core of government who thought as she did and would accept her orders without question. "At the centre of that group was Dal'shan.

Jha'dur had few trusted friends, Gar'shan was like a Father to her while she looked on his other children like junior siblings. Her own brother she kept very close but for all her life she had led him, she had been the one to take responsibility as their mother withered away and had eventually become the Matriarch in her place.

Jha'dur had family been could only find her emotional equal in Dal'shan, and that gave him a unique insight into the dynamic Warmaster. It also made him the only person who could claim to understand her. Deep down she was just another person, she defined herself by her responsibilities but truthfully she had never asked for them, she just accepted them as circumstances and survival dictated. For all her great victories she was a scientist first and if she could do anything she would much rather go back to the laboratory for the rest of years instead of leading an empire.

That was not to be her destiny. And while she still practiced science it was military science, creating weapons and plagues to annihilate the enemies of the Imperium. It was necessary, but within that she had continued to pursue her ultimate life's work.

"It isn't about death." She had said in a private moment. "It's about life, and only by examining death in all its forms can you really find the beauty of life."

Dal'shan couldn't claim to truly understand that, but Jha'dur was nothing if not persistent.

"I am as familiar with death as I am with myself. Everything I do, every act I perform I feel my hand tangled up in death's. Wherever I go I bring death, ever since I was a child people around me keep dying. But you know what? I'm not afraid of that anymore. I use it, I command it. I have mastered death, it obeys me now. That is why it was so perfectly delicious when the League named me 'Deathwalker.' The universe does have a sense of irony don't you think?"

He remembered Jha'dur's eyes had been alive at that point, the pale blue rings dancing with a lit fire.

"Now it's just a matter of time until I master life as well." She stated confidently. "Life eternal, if I am remembered for just one thing, that is what I would choose. The bringer of immortality, something the gods themselves failed to attain."

They had spoken a few times about it in recent years, though the necessity of war had kept them apart and they could never talk openly over communication channels, their relationship was considered a total secret in case a rival tried to exploit their connection with each other for political gain.

"I know there is just one more piece." She said. "A key to unlock the door, I almost have it."

She would then talk about brain chemistry and enzymes, things that Dal'shan had just the barest understanding.

"It goes against evolution, to have such a large brain but use only a small percentage of it? No, evolution does not give us what we do not need. We are supposed to use all our brain so what is restricting us?"

Dal'shan had not known.

"It is artificial, some manipulation at a genetic level probably when our species was still developing. I am certain of it."

"An alien race interfering in our evolution?" Dal'shan had been surprised.

"Exactly, I have shown it is theoretically possible in my own work. A sufficiently advanced race could hold us back through genetic tampering. But not just us, the whole sector, every race out there shares the same qualities."

Suddenly Jha'dur had become very excited.

"Think about it, we all evolved on different worlds widely spaced from one another. So why do we all have ten fingers and toes? Why are we all bipedal? Why do we have two eyes, two ears? Even though some of us evolved from primates, others reptiles and others birds or fish, how did we all end up looking so alike? And how did we end up all using just a percentage of our brains?"

It had really caught his attention. "How?"

"Well, I don't know." Jha'dur answered. "But there are no coincidences, this is all part of some plan millions of years in the making."

"Some ancient alien race playing with evolution?"

"You know the stories from the League and Narn, ancient beings that came from the sky with the power of gods."

"Myths."

"All myths have a basis in fact." She had replied. "Not gods but powerful aliens. Look at telepaths, they just show up out of nowhere, nothing in evolution happens overnight. A telepath uses marginally more of their brain than normal, imagine what happens if we can learn to use it all?"

"What would happen?"

"My guess? We would be gods, just like the myths." She smiled fervently. "Telepathic to the extreme, wise and highly intelligent, plus most likely of all immortal. I just need that key, the base code which is holding our evolution back. It is common to every species, I just need to find it and reverse it."

To Dal'shan's knowledge she was still searching, though the counter offensive had put her work on hold for a while. As part of the home fleet he had been deployed to Latig on the northern thrust of the attack. Jha'dur was aiming to attack three worlds at once, Tithalis in the centre, Latig on the coreward flank and Hilak on the rimward flank. These simultaneous attacks with full fleet elements would hopefully throw the Drazi into confusion as they tried to work out where the attack would truly come from.

The attack would ultimately sweep down from Latig with the First Strike fleet and the Home fleet hitting Deskartalos while Dar'sen launched a diversionary attack on Fendamir where the Drazi were making their preparations. They would pin their fleets at Fendamir, snip their supply lines then crush them before moving unopposed to Zhabar itself.

At least that was the general plan, the specific tactics were down to each theatre commander in turn, Jha'dur at Hilak, Dar'sen at Tithalis and War Captain Tor'han here at Latig. Jha'dur was confident enough in the abilities of her comrades to entrust local success to them individually without micromanaging the entire front and taking the risk of getting something fundamentally wrong somewhere.

Dal'shan's responsibility to this plan was simple, fight his ship and escorts through any opposition and form part of the solid core of the Home fleet. As master of a Mishakur class Dreadnought he controlled a precision instrument of war, a near perfect balance of firepower, protection and speed. Ton for ton it was the most efficient command ship in space and fewer than five percent of them had been lost to enemy action since the war began, an amazing survival rate considering how highly prioritised they were as targets. The Dilgar played on the League's fear of these ships and often used them as bait to lure in enemy vessels before the escorting units swooped down and delivered a killing blow.

Dal'shan was in the middle of performing that same tactic at Latig, leaving his ship deliberately vulnerable to draw in an attack squadron of Drazi Sunhawks. It was a particularly dangerous tactic that required Dal'shan to move his Dreadnought away from the protective screen of the five Tratharti class heavy gunships acting as escort, if he strayed too far they would not be able to reach him in time. Five Gunships was an abnormally heavy escort, as each Tratharti would usually deployed as a centrepiece of its own battlegroup, but with the eldest son of the Supreme Warmaster at stake the Commander of the Home Fleet wasn't scrimping on safety measures.

The warship rotated in space lashing fire down on the approaching squadron while the forward laser cannons engaged a second Drazi unit, melting two small cruisers in a lengthy dwelling attack. Thirteen Sunhawks and Warbirds had noticed him and were rapidly closing, a force even a dreadnought as well built and well crewed as this one could not hope to survive against.

"Send the signal." Dal'shan ordered calmly. "Close the trap."

The helmsman turned towards the greatest concentration of Drazi, the Lizard like warriors rushing in full blooded fury towards the juicy target with no thought for their formation or the five heavy warships descending around them. The escorts moved into range and opened fire simultaneously, their heavy guns cleaving the Drazi ships apart with unerring accuracy. Each of Dal'shan's escorts was a veteran of one of the legendary strike fleets, some of the best cruiser Captains in the Imperium and they displayed their well earned reputation flawlessly.

The three Drazi ships that broke through were no real challenge, disorientated and spread out Dal'shan's gunners picked them off with ease.

"Resume formation, hold course and speed, fire on any target of opportunity."

Dal'shan had seen war before, but this was his first true pitched battle, he had to admit he was a little disappointed.

"Fleet command is setting up a redeployment sir." His first officer Battle Commander Ese'lan reported. She was very young for such a senior position, barely twenty years old and very thin, almost gaunt in build, but with the sort of dedication usually reserved for fanatics.

"Show me."

The fresh orders lit up on Dal'shan's display to the right of his command station, they were fairly simple orders commanding a reordering of the line. Clearly the Drazi were not presenting any special challenges.

"Acknowledge the signal and reduce thrust to fifty percent."

The new formation would create a wall in space, one of the more basic formations and one the Dilgar rarely employed. It was only really useful for mopping up scattered remnants of enemy forces which Dal'shan guessed must have been the current situation. He didn't have access to the same intelligence and sensor feeds as the fleet commander but he knew Tor'han was among the most experienced people in the Dilgar fleet and would not select such a rigid formation without making sure the enemy could not exploit it.

His gunners fired a few more salvoes, but the pace of the battle was slackening indicating the Drazi resistance was evaporating more and more rapidly. Hopefully they would offer more resistance when the Dilgar struck deeper into their territory.

"Sir, I have jump points forming." Ese'lan reported curtly and to the point.

"The Drazi are running?"

"No sir, they are incoming jump points."

"Incoming?" Dal'shan found his interest peak. "Well this should be interesting."

Beyond the range of the Dilgar fleet scores of jump points were forming, each one emptying a small mass of dark ships into space. They bore no resemblance to the Drazi ships that were by now mostly burnt out husks littering the battle ground, instead of the rounded insect like design they were squared off and stocky looking, though overall appeared to be still quite small.

"That's a lot of ships." Dal'shan observed casually.

"Running a profile match." Ese'lan informed.

"No need, they're Hurr ships."

"Hurr?" the First officer frowned. "I thought they hated the Drazi?"

"It seems they've had a readjustment of priorities." Dal'shan smiled thinly. "Standby jump engines."

"Sir?"

"We're going to be ordered to withdraw soon, Tor'han won't take this force alone."

Sure enough the next moment orders for a withdrawal began to filter through.

"Even though Hurr ships are, shall we say fragile, they outnumber us by just over three to one." Dal'shan theorized. "We'll wait until Jha'dur arrives as scheduled and hit them together. If anything this helps our plan."

"How so sir?"

"The Drazi see us retreat and will believe this flank is secure, Dar'sen will reinforce this belief when he launches his diversionary attack on Fendamir. I would estimate that is virtually the whole Hurr Navy out there, with Jha'dur's forces we can wipe out their entire defence."

"Then continue to engage the Drazi?"

"Not quite, if I know Jha'dur she'll want to send a message." Dal'shan smiled slightly. "She'll want to make an example of what happens when you interfere in Dilgar plans. I expect she'll level the Hurr homeworld as a warning to the other races to keep away."

"Sounds like a worthy battle." Ese'lan grinned.

"I'm sure it will be, but we shouldn't risk losses on this probing attack. Tor'han is right to withdraw. Let them believe they have won, they will get a reality check later."

The Dilgar fleet executed their jump rapidly and in perfect order long before the rather primitive Hurr ships moved into range. They triumphantly joined the surviving Drazi ships and began celebrating their victory. As Dal'shan predicted it would be a brief and hollow party.

Hilak Star System

Z+ 20 minutes.

Jha'dur's sharp gazed darted back and forth across the tactical display looking for any indication of a threat. "Run the scans again." She ordered

From her station An'jash proceeded as ordered, the coordinated sensors of the fleet returning exactly the same data.

"Nothing Warmaster, no ships in the area."

"Are there life signs on the colony?"

"Thousands Warmaster."

"So why leave it unprotected?" Jha'dur paused. "Especially if the Narn had their eyes on this place."

"We are receiving a message from the colony, standard frequency." An'jash reported with a hint of humour. "They wish to negotiate with us."

Despite herself the Warmaster smiled. "Does the prey get to know the Predator? Receive transmission but do not acknowledge, not yet. I think this will be an entertaining experience."

An'jash set up the main display to receive the transmission and project the image of the Colony Governor on screen. Jha'dur was not surprised to see a Narn though it sounded from the intakes of breath her crew was.

"Dilgar fleet, if you can receive me, respond." The Narn spoke with a clear hint of nerves in his voice. "I am Na'shal, leader of this colony. We are part of the Narn Regime and neutral in this conflict. We do have Drazi on the planet, but they are… labourers of the Narn now. We remain neutral."

"Well that explains the lack of ships." Jha'dur mused. "The Drazi are driven off and the Narn didn't want to risk losing a ship to us."

"They could have provoked a war by putting one of their fleets in our path." An'jash reasoned.

"So instead they leave this world to our mercy, they obviously have not been paying attention." She steepled her fingers and sat back relaxed in her chair. "Alright, open a channel, let's see what their story is."

The Narn on the screen visible changed his expression as the sound of the channel opening reached his ears.

"Na'shal, I am Warmaster Jha'dur of the Dilgar Imperium. Are you lost?"

"Warmaster I… Lost?" the Narn frowned. "No Warmaster."

"You seem to have landed on a Dilgar world without any form of permission, surely this was not intentional?"

"Warmaster Jha'dur, this world was Drazi when we arrived, we acquired it from them and made it our own. It was Drazi,we had not heard a Dilgar claim to it."

The Warmaster offered a charming smile. "Governor, all of Drazi space belongs to the Dilgar, in fact all of League space is ours when we chose to claim it. By seizing a Drazi world you are seizing Dilgar territory. Understand that my people take a very dim view of such activities."

"It was made clear to me Warmaster that the Narn would have their pick of League worlds for remaining neutral in this war."

"And so you shall." Jha'dur confirmed. "When we are done with them. Your presence here is a violation of Dilgar territory, something your government is well aware of."

"There must be some mistake, the Kha'ri…"

"Have thrown you in my way to see what I do." She finished for him. "You are sacrificial offerings from the Kha'ri to test my mercy. To see if I will risk war with the Narn while still engaging the League. Quite clever."

"I assure you…" Na'shal began but was cut off.

"They seem to think the Dilgar are too heavily engaged to oppose the Narn, that the threat of their fleet aiding the League will force us to cede this world to you. But I don't think they are fully committed to that, if they were they would have left you a ship or two for protection. It seems they don't want to risk a cruiser, and after the losses the Centauri inflicted at Gorash who can blame them?"

She nodded.

"The Kha'ri must put a high premium on ships, they must know the Centauri still heavily outgun them and so jealously guard every vessel they have. Would you like to hear my opinion Governor?"

She did not let him answer.

"I think the Kha'ri are bluffing. I think they won't go to war with us no matter what because they know we will bleed them and they cannot risk losing ships while the Centauri are still getting used to a new Emperor. I think that as long as we stay clear of their borders the Kha'ri will stay quiet. They are gambling with you Na'shal."

"My Government will not sacrifice us."

"You have seven thousand colonists, in terms of lives it is barely a fleet." Jha'dur answered coldly. "They abandoned you to your fate, hoped we would be too cautious to act and sought to play us. Nobody, not a soul in this universe, tries to take me for a fool."

"Warmaster…"

"You're Government does not have the strength to oppose me, and I will send them a seven thousand body message to that effect. You were sent here to your deaths in the full knowledge of your Government, for that you have my pity."

She ended the communication before Na'shal could reply.

"Orders Warmaster?"

Jha'dur did not answer at once, she slowly closed her eyes and took a few breaths before responding. "Total population on Hilak?"

"Seven thousand Narns, eighty thousand Drazi."

"Deploy a ground team, pick up some Narns, tell them I wish to negotiate in person. Twenty will do, take them to Lab Nine."

"At once."

"After they have returned wipe out anyone who is left, use strain K-90. It will be a good test of its trans species infection rate. See if the Narn or Drazi die first."

She stood. "Watch for Narn ships, I doubt we'll see one but if one does arrive destroy it without question."

"Yes Warmaster."

"I'm not playing games with these creatures, my time is precious and I have better things to do than waste it on the Narn." She paused mid thought, then smiled. "Still, I've never dissected a Narn before. Perhaps it is a worthy use of my time after all."

The Warmaster stepped down from her chair and made her way to the large doors at the back of the command deck, head already filling with techniques for examining her new subjects.

"Warmaster, wait! Urgent signal!"

Jha'dur paused and looked over her shoulder.

"It's from Home Fleet." An'jash worded to decrypt the signal. "They've, they've been engaged by the Hurr!"

Even Jha'dur found that a little surprising. "The Hurr? Well that's interesting."

"War Captain Tor'han has disengaged, he reports primary objectives are completed with minimum losses."

"Acknowledge the signal and order Home Fleet to stand by at the rally point."

"Yes Ma'am."

"The Hurr." Jha'dur chuckled. "The Drazi must have convinced them to fight. Fools, they just went and signed their own death warrant."

"Do you think they fear the Drazi more than us?" An'jash was puzzled.

"Not for long, they just killed themselves." The Warmaster stated flatly. "Unlike the Drazi I don't care what the galaxy will think of me for burning their home planet to the ground. We are advancing the schedule."

"What about this world Warmaster?"

"Take the samples, deploy the plague then leave a scout here to monitor the effects." She ordered. "Everyone else needs to be in hyperspace within the hour."

"Understood Warmaster."

"This is an opportunity, by joining the war the Hurr have validated my theories. They have shown our setbacks have emboldened the surviving League worlds to try and work with each other. We must crush this alliance quickly and return them to a state of fear." She smiled. "It also opens a back door into Drazi space, if we return to my original plan we can totally bypass the Drazi defences and hook around through Hurr, Pak'ma'ra and Grome space, then attack the Drazi from behind."

"Was that the plan the council rejected?" An'jash checked.

"They did, and this is proof of how short sighted some of the council have become." Jha'dur said firmly. "I was right, and now at least I can execute my plan with no interference from the council."

"Our course is set for the Rendezvous Warmaster."

"Very good, leave when we have the samples on board. I will be in Lab Nine if you need me," Jha'dur felt a mild tremor of anticipation at the thought. "Preparing for our new guests."


	55. Chapter 55

54

Beta 9 Colony

Yolu border

"One more step on the path to extinction." Newly appointed Brakiri Ambassador Bortalla Kani stated dejectedly. "And we're running out of road."

While Itala had no intention of entertaining such dismal thoughts the truth was Bortalla was right. Every day brought a worsening of the situation, a decrease in the resources of the Leugue worlds under siege, another victory for the Dilgar, another mark on the roster of allied losses. A never ending punishment for their arrogance and complacency.

"We still have options." She replied. "We must not surrender to despair."

"Hide from it if you like." Bortalla sneered. "Delude yourself that we have a chance, but we all see it. This war is over."

The League envoys had been pinning their hopes on persuading the Yolu race to join the battle, to throw their immense knowledge and deadly ships into the fray and shred their way through the local Dilgar Armada.

Even Itala had to admit that it was an overly optimistic assessment, in nearly three thousand years of history her research had not found a single occasion where the Yolu had engaged an enemy beyond their borders. Not even during the Great Darkness a thousand years earlier, they had bottled themselves up and refused calls to battle the Dark Ones.

The Yolu were the best armed race in the known Galaxy, and ironically the least likely to go to war.

As an Abbai Itala could respect their pacifism and unwillingness to engage in open war, it was a philosophy central to Abbai life before the Dilgar had arrived and for the Yolu to maintain that in the dire circumstances of the past was remarkable. But now, in these circumstances it simply looked like they were burying their heads in the sand.

The Yolu attitude stemmed from their early history, the time in most race's existence when they defined their society and set the ground work for stepping out into the stars. For the Yolu it was a violent process. The various nations of Pa'arl, the Yolu homeworld, waged incessant war upon one another just a bloody, violent and increasingly advanced as would be seen much later on Earth, Centauri Prime and Omelos. After the discovery of Nuclear wepons the Yolu came dangerously close to wiping each other out permanently, an event which prompted a massive shift in society.

On Earth the culture of the lone warrior, a champion representing all his race had been replaced by mass armies and the concept of total war, but on Pa'arl the exact opposite occurred. Faced with extinction during another global war the major religious groups with the massive support of the population forced the governments to institute a form of stylised single combat to resolve issues, a tournament that evolved into the Mu'Tai.

This shift saved the Yolu, and gave them an outlet for their violent tendancies that didn't risk billions of lives. As a society the Yolu lost the stomach for war, though retained the basic concepts of combat including the value of an advanced and potent armed force. When challenged the Yolu had the power to eviscerate anything up to and including the biggest Minbari Warcruisers, during the Shadow war one of Valens most fanatical allied race tried to force the Yolu to join the allies and when they refused launched an attack. Valens personal intercessation prevented a bloodbath for his allies, but even he for all his diplomatic mastery could not encourage the Yolu to fight.

In time they became the gentle giants of known space, happy to trade with the future League worlds around them but never to fight unless their borders were crossed. If they saw a battle as anything but a certain victory they would retreat, reinforce and come back with overwhelming force. They also made every effort to drive off enemy ships with non lethal force before finally unleashing their ridiculously powerful armaments.

It was often seen as a contradiction that a race so adverse to warfare could create the Mu'Tai, the most vicious blood sport in the Galaxy. Yet that very invention made them the pacifists they were, a strange but in the end logical relationship.

This however had meant nothing to the League ambassadors when they had spoke before the Yolu Parliament. No matter what treaties she named, what arguments she put forward or pleas she made, the Yolu remained obstinate. They had no love for the Dilgar and expressed sincere sympathy for the League, but nothing more. No ships, no aid, no chance.

Commander Lelant of the Alacans delivered the most impassioned plea on the behalf of the innocent people of the League, and for a while it looked like the Yolu might budge. But their instincts took over and their deep seated aversion to warfare took over.

The Yolu apologised, but would not fight the Dilgar unless their borders were crossed, and even then would not pursue their attackers into occupied League space. It was the Yolu way.

That answer had robbed the League of its most advanced military power and naturally enough was a bitte rpill to swallow for the ambassadors, though admittedly not unexpected. They had said farewell and returned to their ships to continue the increasingly forlorn journey.

As a gesture the Yolu offered supplies to the fleet before it departed which led them to a stop off at the Beta Nine colony to refuel and take on more food before heading on to Vreetan and eventually Markab.

A signal from the overhead speakers cut into the discussion between the Ambassadors.

"Attention, this is Captain Cashik. Will Ambassador Itala please respond."

The old Abbai rose to her feet. "Excuse me delegates."

She moved away and looked for one of the wall mounted communication panels. The first one she found was burnt out, a reminder of their hard journey, but the second was operational. "Itala here Captain."

"Ambassador, we've been contacted by ships just arriving in the system." Cashik reported.

"Who are they, can you identify them?"

"Quite easily." She could catch some amusement in the officers voice. "They're Vree."

Itala understood, the Vree flew very distinctive Saucer type ships, vessels that had become part of subculture in many younger races where they had been spotted on survey missions.

"What do they want?"

"To talk Ambassador, they ask for permission to come aboard."

Itala felt just a brief surge of hope at the request. The Vree had actually come to them instead of waiting for the delegation to arrive at their homeworld. She took that proactive action as a positive sign.

"By all means welcome them aboard, all the Ambassadors are still here."

"Very well Ma'am." Cashik replied. "Lets hope this shows a turn in our luck."

Itala could not agree more.

The three representatives of the Vree Conglomerate were typical of their race, relatively short, extremely slender with large hairless heads containing tiny mouths and large black eyes. Each had the same pale grey hued skin with some slight silvery overtones and wore a simplistic one piece metallic flight suit. The leading creature held a sophisticated translation device while the others simply seemed to be impassively coming along for the change of scenery.

By most standards the Vree were enigmatic, a truly alien race whos sensibilities and emotions bore little in common with the majority of other League beings. While clearly an advanced race they were not as old as most people believed, the majority of their technology having being reversed engineered a few centuries earlier giving them a huge leap up. They had stumbled on a lost fleet of unknown warships that had been destroyed in some epic battle long ago, later found to be Minbari ships of Valens era. The Vree took gravitic propulsion and the basics of antimatter weaponry from these hulks and over time applied it to their own ships with great success.

The Vree as individuals were naturally curious, a throwback to their evolution as a cave dwelling race on their icy homeworld. They had a basic level of telepathy allowing them to communicate with each other mind to mind, only encouraging them to develop alternate modes of communication when they met alien races and found that they did not appreciate a Vree reading and transmiting thoughts.

They had become natural explorers with a knowledge of hyperspace that even superceded the Minbari. They made a habit of visiting and more often than note panicking less advanced worlds on their travels and leaving quite an impact on some worlds, Earth especially. It didn't help that the Vree had a peculiar sense of humour and thought it was hilarious to leave crop circles or buzz high flying jet aircraft.

One thing the Vree did have in common with the other races of the galaxy however was trade and an enjoyment of profit. The various Vree guilds that ran their society found the League a hugely tempting business opportunity and accepted membership mainly as a way to take advantage of the preferencial trade treaties given to partners. With fast and well armed ships the Merchant guilds were highly in demand while the Explorers and Navigators were well employed working for various League governments and corporations as they expanded.

All that came to a crashing halt when the Dilgar invaded and started severing supply routes and cutting off customers. Vree ships were fired on and often destroyed as they tried to run blockades and gradually the guilds stopped sending forces and material into occupied space. A huge debate had sprung up about the consequences of this new circumstance and what the Vree should do about it.

When they heard their customers still had representation a representative was despatched to track them down and inform them of the Vree races opinions on the situation.

"Welcome aboard Ambassador." Itala said formally.

The Vree nodded, his translator deciphering his telepathic response into spoken Abbai.

"We are glad to meet you, we have been seeking you." The representative said. "I am Cy-teh."

"Our next stop was to be Vreetan." Itala offered the small alien a seat at the table, the other League members watching him closely. "This saves us a great deal of time, your world is rather distant."

"A blessing." Cy-the said. "Or sometimes a curse."

"I will not hide behind words." Itala said plainly. "We need help. We need warships to engage the Dilgar, drive them back and liberate our homes."

"You have asked the Yolu?"

"We did." Itala confirmed. "They refused."

"Not surprising." Cy-the agreed, the translator relaying no emotion.

"The Yolu have powerful ships, but in terms of overall military power the Vree and Markab are stronger." Itala stated. "Your ships and those of the Markab are our real goal."

"We have no military." Cy-the reminded. "But our exploration division does utilize heavy armaments on their vessels."

"They are warships by any League standard Ambassador." Itala said. "And therefore vital to our future."

The grey alien seemed to fix his unfathomable gaze on Itala. "The Dilgar have not militarily threatened us."

"Only because they haven't invaded this far yet."

"We cannot defeat them alone."

"You won't be alone, your example will inspire the rest of the League to take heart. With the Drazi still strong and the Markab we can still win this war."

"My council has made its decision." Cy-the said. "We will deploy a fleet to engage the Dilgar in battle."

That sudden announcement left Itala speechless, the other ambassadors could also find no words to say.

"This war is bad for business." The Vree said. "As the League falls our profits have turned into losses, each world lost seriously hurts our business. It is decided that while war is expensive the long terms implications for our economy justify an assault to free our customers."

"You are going to fight for money?" Botalla managed.

Beneath the table Tullaq kicked him as encouragement to shut up.

"When can you be ready?" Itala asked trying to keep the joy contained.

"Our fleet is already deployed in hyperspace."

"You're target?"

"Brakir." Cy-the looked at Bortalla. "Our best customer."

"Well, thankyou." Bortalla grinned.

"This is not free." The Vree said. "We expect the Brakiri to pay for our supplies and any damage we sustain."

"Of course." He accepted readily. "Anything, we have a deal."

"Then the Vree will go to war."

Itala was jubilant, the sort of exultant joy she had forgotten existed. Finally they had succeeded, finally they had found a race ready to send ships to war even if it was for rather mercenary reasons.

"On behalf of the League, thank you."

"We will break the Brakiri blockade." Cy-the said. "But first we will need to resupply enroute. Brakiri credit will need to cover this expense."

"Gladly." Bortalla beamed, the usually exhorbitant terms now music to his ears.

"If you can liberate Brakir getting the other races onboard should be easy." Itala said confidently. "Not just the Markab but our own guard fleets will be freed and we can support the Drazi, give the Dilgar a real war on two fronts!"

"If support is not forthcoming we will be forced to retreat." The Vree warned.

"We understand." Itala nodded. "In fact your show of force should be enough to bring the Descari immediately into the war."

"Then let this be the first day of the liberation!" Bortalla announced loudly.

"The League acting as it should." Itala confirmed. "Helping each other."

"So be it." Agreed the Vree. "But when this is over, there are some trade restrictions my people which to see addressed, in recognition of our help."

Itala did not argue, indeed she was in absolutely no position to offer protest. In those words she saw a brief reminder of the selfish attitudes of the Old League, and it bothered her immensely. But that was an issue for the future, in the days where there would actually still be a League to exploit for profit. Right now it was a far smaller price than she would have paid for help.

Finally they had some success, finally things were turning and the journey was still not over yet.

Kha'ri Building

Narn Homeworld

G'Quonth was an old man, his spots were turning grey as they years assaulted him and deep wrinkles lined his leathery skin. He belonged to another age, a younger age when life for the Narn had been simple and uncomplicated. It was simply a case of killing Centauri until they went away or until you died. That summed up G'Quonth's life rather well.

But then something entirely unexpected happened, they won.

The Centauri left, abandoning the Narn to their own devices with very little notice or warning. Suddenly the world that had been so structured found itself in freefall. The foundation Narn society had been based on for generations, namely the hatred and struggle to defeat the Centauri had been removed virtually over night. The planet fell into chaos and it fell to the old Resistance leaders to try and bring order to the planet. That desire had given birth to the Kha'ri.

But they needed something more to direct their people, to keep them united and gloss over the cracks and rivalries between families and city states that had resurfaced without the threat of the Centauri. The obvious solution was just to reinsert the Centauri back into Narn culture, with absolutely no sense of Irony.

Despite the long struggle it seemed that once again the Centauri were central to Narn life, though this time the goal was not freedom but revenge. The Narn called for holy war, a pure crusade to cleanse the galaxy of the vile Centauri and their depravations. It was their destiny to be that instrument of justice, and all Narn should take up the sword.

It had worked, in a short time the Narn became a potent stellar power. Unfortunately they achieved that reputation by seizing worlds around them, mostly abandoned Centauri colonies but also sometimes inhabited worlds. When the Centauri abandoned Narn they also left some of their other possessions near Narn space, worlds that naturally would have joined the League. Before they had a chance a scratched together Narn fleet had arrived to 'liberate' them and absorb them into the safety of the Regime, whether they liked it or not.

As the Narn expanded further they ran up against League space and were quickly curtailed by the more advanced or numerous ships of the League powers, and later they encountered the Earth Alliance who similarly forced the Narn to back off after one or two brief skirmishes. The recent Gorash incident had further driven home the fact that the current Narn borders would probably be the fixed perimeter forever.

However this had not stopped the Narn from trying to find a way to annex more territory, more resources to turn into ships and guns with which to purge the Centuari. So single minded was that desire the Kha'ri was ready to pounce on any opportunity, and that had led them to deal with the devil. Or Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan as he preferred to be called.

Unfortunately the Kha'ri had miscalculated and tried to acquire some territory before their time, and the Dilgar had treated their greed with ruthless contempt by wiping out their fledgling colony. It was a black day for the Narn Government.

The grizzled Veteran didn't have the fire he was so well known for today. He sat in his chambers slumped behind a cold desk with barely any light flickering through the closed shutters into his domain. He hadn't moved in an hour and suddenly looked not like the hero of Narn, but like a frail and weary old man.

He door shuddered as someone knocked on it, the old leader knew who it would be.

"Come in." he spoke, trying to regain some composure.

The heavy door opened to reveal a pair of youthful Narn, and G'Quonth recognized both of them. "Ta'kai, G'Kar. Take a seat."

The two young people did so, as was traditional G'Quonths office furniture was made of hard stone quarried from a pit once worked by slaves. The granite chairs and table reminding him constantly of the hardship his people endured.

"So, why don't you tell me why you are here?"

G'Kar was looking extremely uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with the stone block he was sat on.

"By now you must have heard about Hilak." Ta'Kai did the talking. "That the Dilgar have destroyed it."

"I heard."

"And that several thousand people have died as a result?"

"Do you think I would not have asked the cost?"

Ta'Kai locked her cold eyes with his. "Did you ask the cost before you sent the colony in the first place?"

The old leader did not flinch from her accusation. "I weighed up the risks and the gains and made a decision."

"The wrong decision."

"Isn't hindsight wonderful?" he offered a smile. "You would not have done so?"

"Putting a colony in the path of a rampaging warfleet is not my idea of wisdom."

"It was a gamble, a risk, it did not pay off this time."

"And thousands died for nothing."

"Well perhaps we should just sit behind our borders and never take any risks in the future? We should just be quiet and stagnate while the Centauri consolidate their power? Yes, and then when once again we become playthings for the Royal Court you can amuse them by balancing a ball on your nose!"

G'Kar raised his hand to prevent Ta'Kai's inevitable outburst.

"Enough, whether the decision was right or wrong is by now academic."

"What do you mean?" G'Quonth narrowed his eyes.

"The truth of the matter is not as important as how it is portrayed, and this loss will be portrayed as a miscalculation on the part of the First Circle of the highest magnitude."

"Did you know G'Quonth, that the only reason you remained in power after the debacle at Gorash was because of G'Kar here?" The female said. "Out of some misplaced loyalty."

The leader looked to the younger male. "How?"

"I convinced many of my friends in the Media to portray it as a response to Centauri aggression, that was where the story of the raid came from."

"You engineered that?"

"The Regime could not afford the embarrassment, we could not appear weak with the Dilgar on our doorstep."

"And now, thanks to you." Ta'Kai spat. "We do look weak! Any leverage we might have had on the Dilgar is gone!"

"Do not forget your place." G'Quonth snarled dangerously. "Show respect when you address a member of the first circle."

"I haven't forgotten anything! I give respect to those who deserve it!"

"Ta'Kai!" G'Kar snapped, giving her a sharp look.

"I was killing Centauri with my bare hands before you were born." G'Quonth's voice dripped with acid. "They killed my family, my friends, my whole village and I never stopped, I have sacrificed for my people, given up more than you will ever possess so don't you dare come in here and treat me like an old fool!"

The younger Narns were quiet, taken aback by the sudden outburst from the living legend.

"I know why you two are here, you want to try and use this to your political advantage."

They were still silent, though Ta'Kai still had the nerve to glare at him.

"Do you think this is the first time I have endured a power grab? That because I was born to a farmer and not a scholar I have no political senses?" G'Quonth laughed bitterly. "You are making a mistake, a big and fatal one."

"No, no I don't think we are." Ta'Kai answered. "In fact I think you are trying to intimidate us."

"Believe me little girl, I wouldn't have to try."

"So you can rip apart a Centauri with your bare hands? Does that give you a divine right to rule?" She pressed. "Why are you still in charge anyway?"

"Because the members of the First Circle made Narn a free and powerful state."

"Is that what you think?" Ta'Kai pressed. "How nice for you."

"Well as you seem to have all the answers, why don't you educate me?" G'Quonth sat back. "Why am I in power?"

"Because you are a hero." She said. "Because the people are so in awe of you they fall at your feet in reverence. You and the rest of the First Circle have this bubble around you, an air of invulnerability than can never be breached by simple reality. You are beloved by the people and untouchable. Infallible."

"Jealous Ta'Kai?"

"Hardly."

"You want to be like us don't you? Loved and revered by the masses? Not going to happen."

"Nobody deserves what you have." She said curtly. "You make mistakes and nothing happens, people die and you continue on driving us down the wrong road. You have led Narn to a dead end, a path we cannot escape from without fighting a major war, one we will lose."

"And you G'Kar, what do you think?"

He had been dreading this, like so many others he had enormous respect for G'Quonth and knew the story of his life back to front. G'Quonth was the face or Narn defiance, he embodied the determined fighting spirit of the people, their unshakeable resolve and determined fury in the face of overwhelming odds. He was Narn embodied, he had endured beyond any breaking point. G'Kar idolised him.

"The time has come to change." He said flatly, the words sounding like lament.

"And how should we change G'Kar?"

"We should…" Ta'Kai began.

"I asked G'Kar!" G'Quonth snarled. "He is here by his own free will, let him answer!"

The young man felt under more intense pressure now then at any time in his life. G'Quonth's eyes bored into him, the red discs testing his resolve and challenging G'Kar. He couldn't back down now.

"We have been expanding, butting up against other powers, we can't sustain that."

"Ahh, so you would join Ta'Kai in stagnating behind our borders?"

"We need a new way to increase our power, not through territory but by influence."

G'Quonth said nothing, emboldening G'Kar slightly.

"We can no longer simply seize resources so we must acquire them through other means. Trade, guile and diplomacy should be our new tools."

"I see, and who will you trade with?"

"Anyone who has what we need." He replied. "Except the Centauri."

The old man smiled. "Glad to see you are still a Narn at heart."

"We have stolen Centauri weapons we could trade, ship yards we can hire out and mercenaries the envy of the Galaxy."

"Well very good G'Kar, and what will you do when we have sold every advantage we have?"

"Our greatest advantage can never be sold. We are Narn."

The atmosphere in the room had become noticeably heated during the discussion, it was getting to be physically uncomfortable as well as mentally.

"You must realise most of the First Circle will not accept this." G'Quonth informed calmly. "They have lived by war and conquest, Narn was made great by aggressive expansion. They still believe that is key to success."

"It is the key to getting us into a war." Ta'Kai said. "Yesterday that policy brought us to the brink of war with the Dilgar, a race we cannot afford to antagonise."

"Are you afraid of a war Ta'Kai?"

"I'm afraid of a war we cannot win." She answered. "And I'm afraid that you will lead us headlong into one."

"And you G'Kar?"

"Death holds no fear for me, only shame and dishonour." He answered. "And if we find ourselves in a war we cannot win we will face all three of those. I can't permit that."

"The First circle isn't going to change policy."

"Then the Circle itself must be replaced." Ta'Kai said with perfect simplicity.

"Which must be why you are here." G'Quonth smiled. "You hope your logic will persuade me to go."

"No, not really." Ta'Kai said. "We have a more reliable means to ensure you step down quietly."

G'Kar exhaled a long drawn out breath. "I have arranged for certain captured Centauri documents to be released to the media, that show you and other First Circle members collaborated with the local officials."

G'Kar did not expect the news to go down well, but the pure fury that suddenly erupted from G'Quonth was such a shock it terrified him into silence.

With a roar that thundered in the room the old Narn leapt to his feet, then in one effortless move flipped the stone table up and into the wall to his right, smashing shelves and stacks like clay. He lunged forward, grabbing G'Kar by his tunic and pinned him with massive force to the wall behind him.

"I am no traitor!" he yelled in G'Kar's face. "I will rip out your eyes and feed them to you!"

"The documents aren't sent yet." Ta'Kai stepped up beside the pair, utterly calm and collected. "They don't have to be."

"They are lies!"

"But repeat them often enough and they become truths as people accept them." Ta'Kai responded. "We have the power to do that, if you do not decide to see things our way."

Slowly, gradually, the leader backed off, easing the pressure on G'Kar's chest. But G'Quonth's eyes were still utterly furious.

"You are both without honour."

"You are clinging to the past." Ta'Kai said. "This is how things are done, with words and appearances, that is the new Narn. We grow strong not by fighting, but by thinking."

"Tellig these lies will destroy something at the very core of Narn culture!" he protested.

"Then for the good of our people, step down."

"You are blackmailing me?" the elder said. "This is all you can come up with? The level you have sunk to?"

"It is enough." Ta'Kai dismissed.

"It is how the Centauri play politics, with secrets and lies!"

"And look where it got them." The female replied with a confident smile. "Admit it or not, we learned a lot from the Centauri, this included."

"Then you have clearly learned the wrong lessons."

"It serves Narn, nothing else matters."

"Not even your honour or integrity?" G'Quonth demanded. "And you G'Kar, did your father die so this could happen?"

"My Father died by Centauri hands." G'Kar said bitterly. "And I have sworn that my two hands will not rest until they have throttled the life from every Centauri I find, my greatest wish is to live just long enough to squeeze the life from the Emperor himself."

"Yet you aide this filth?"

"For my world, I would do far worse, sacrifice all that I hold dear. Just like you did."

"Don't dare compare this to what I endured."

"Take responsibility for Hilak." Ta'Kai said. "Step down with your reputation intact, retire and pretend this never happened."

"If not you release your lies, destroy all we have given the Narn, and likely see us all lynched by an enraged and betrayed population?" G'Quonth laughed blackly. "Some choice, but I will have my honour."

"Only you will know that." G'Kar said. "Everyone else will see you as a pariah, you will exhiled at best, killed at worst."

"Death would be preferable." G'Quonth said, pain evident behind his words.

Ta'kai walked to the door. "We've said all that needs to be said. Tell the rest of the First Circle. You have a week, if you have not left and set up fresh elections by then we release the documents. Farewell, Leader G'Quonth."

G'Kar followed her, he couldn't wait to get out and escape the environment in the office, breath the metaphorically clear air of the corridor beyond, taste the purity of a world that would never know what had happened in those earlier minutes.

He looked over his shoulder as the door closed, a glance long enough to see G'Quonth drop down to his knees in the centre of the floor. This man, this colossus of Narn who had done more than any other to forge G'Kar's own people into one united world was powerless in the middle of the floor looking every year of his age.

G'Kar wanted to take it back, to apologise, to make any gesture but it was meaningless, an insult to an already broken man. Pity would be an even worse assault to endure. The words did not pass his lips, and with unfeeling and shaking hands G'Kar closed the door.

"We're both going to hell."

"Don't be so melodramatic." Ta'Kai replied. "We're ushering in a new age for our people."

"We just destroyed the greatest man since G'Quan."

"If he goes quietly his name will live on untarnished. Don't blame yourself."

"Blame myself?" G'Kar snapped his head up. "I don't! I blame you!"

"Don't try and wash your hands of this G'Kar."

"I can't! I will never get rid of the stain this will leave on my soul! I destroyed our greatest hero, I did that! By G'Quan I can only pray it was worth it!"

"Why did you come along if you weren't prepared for this?"

"Because much as G'Quonth is a great man, you are right. We can't go on like this and we must change. This is all for Narn."

"And yourself G'Kar, you can profit from this too."

"Keep your bribes." He said in revulsion. "I'm going to leave the Kha'ri for a while, I don't think I could sit there without being sick."

"You won't get far with such weakness G'Kar."

"What you call weakness I call conscience. I don't expect you do understand." He turned his back and walked away, though he wasn't going to be able to just leave this day behind him. "Don't try and contact me. Or follow me."

"I won't forget your help G'Kar." Ta'Kai called after him.

"Neither will I." He muttered in bitter sadness. "Neither will I."

Bestine

Descari Homeworld.

"I hate this job, I hate it, hate it, hate it!"

"So why don't you quit?"

"Because I'm weak and greedy and it makes me really rich!"

The banter between Toby and Jors followed a very familiar pattern, with the young man complaining and the more mature pilot snapping back and inevitably telling his to eventually shut up. Paul counted off the seconds to the response.

"So shut the hell up then!" Jors growled.

Paul Calendar couldn't resist a smile despite the all too familiar and all too dire situation that once again the independent freighter Space Race found itself neck deep in.

"We've got Dilgar!" Toby called. "Oh boy do we have Dilgar!"

The young crewer in this instance was very correct, every screen on the small bridge was warning of more and more contacts entering the system and lighting up targets with their gunnery sensors. Based on the numbers it looked like a full on fleet assault, which much to Paul's curiosity he didn't feel himself panicked about.

"Show me distance and bearing." Paul ordered.

"Contacts in all directions closing on the planet." Toby reported quickly.

"The Jump gate?"

"Still there, along with a dozen major warships!"

"Oh, joy." Jors remarked with incredible sarcasm.

"Well boys, looks like we're in a tight spot. Again."

Paul and his crew had a reputation for taking risky jobs developed over the past year, and with good reason. The Space Race had woven in and out of massive warzones, pitched battles and full scale planetary invasions and still made it home. The ship had generated a lot of rumours, from its unregistered trips and unfilled flight plans to its newer and somewhat more aggressive looking design. Some considered it a secret government design, others a Raider in disguise, and others still that it was all a big bluff to generate business.

The truth of course was far stranger than any of the fiction, but Paul wasn't about to reveal that. He quite liked the enigmatic shroud that had draped over his ship, and true enough it had done wonders for business. Most of the jobs he had were incredibly lucrative, and more often than not incredibly dangerous. In recent months he'd run through Raider alley between EA, Centauri and Narn space with a hold full of Quantium-40, the equivalent of holding a red rag in front of a thousand angry bulls, then skipped across Dilgar occupied territory to shave a week from a delivery to far League space.

His ship was incredibly lucky, but this time his luck had been stretched just a little bit too far. The Descari had issued an urgent call for freighters to evacuate refugees, in Paul's case he'd be taking them to the Earth Colony at Eridani and the veritable city that had sprung up there. ISN had estimated a staggering twenty million refugees were encamped there, making it the most populous world in EA space bar Earth itself and with more people than the next 3 EA Colonies combined.

Getting food to that world had turned into a massive effort, an almost military scale mobilisation of freighters taking stocks from Earth out to Eridani. What wasn't generally known was that the EA had been quietly hoarding freighters for just such a massive relocation of supplies, though according to Jenny it was a careful preparation in case Earth Force had to shift supplies into League Space to support a war.

The Government contracts were good solid money and a guaranteed paycheck for as long as the refugees stayed in place, which was looking like a very long time. While it was also valuable practice for Earth Force Logistics Command the Belt Alliance that owned most of the ships being hired out were also seeing a big climb in profits. It was a good safe time to be a Captain, especially as most Raiders and Pirates were either hiring their services as privateers or mercenaries to embattled League powers, or more often preying on isolated worlds abandoned by the broken League and ignored by the Dilgar.

But there was a small band of human Captains, usually the younger ones, for whom these steady contracts weren't enough. They were safe but also dull and not a patch on the money that could be made by taking a couple of risks. The Space Race had proven an unlikely trailblazer in this respect and its mission to the League inspired others to do likewise. The huge sums being offered by threatened powers no doubt helping generate interest.

The Captains who made these trips were adventurers, old style buccaneers who enjoyed the challenge. Some were motivated purely by greed, others by necessity as the sums on offer were enough to buy new parts or even whole new ships. Big rewards for a few weeks work. Paul and his crew had been set up financially for life, and others were following suit.

Most made the run to Descari, Vree or Markab space, places that were under threat but not actively at war. As a rule the safer the place the less the fee, so a journey to Markab wasn't really a huge leap in the standard fees. But Bestine was widely regarded as next on the Dilgar hit list and was offering huge expenses to call in ships, and it's proximity to Earth made it a short trip of just a handful of jumps over the border.

The really hard core adventurers, or the border line insane, took jobs running the Dilgar blockades of the core League worlds. There was even rumour of a ship making it as far as the Abbai homeworld and back. Such a mission would let a lucky Captain earn enough money for a tremendously rare and prized Jump Capable bulk Freighter, the sort of ship even Paul couldn't afford with his considerable earnings. Unfortunately almost every ship with the nerve to take such a job never returned.

Bestine was a race against time, to get in, get a contract and get paid before the Planet fell to the inevitable Dilgar fleet. Paul had already made two runs and had been warned by both Jors and Toby going for a third was pushing his luck too far, but he went anyway. Not because of the money either, but for some reason much closer to his heart.

Unfortunately they had been right, but on the bright side this time he wasn't alone.

Bestine was surrounded by ships, almost all of them freighters and the majority flew the Descari flag. However nearly fifty ships had human registry and fell under the jurisdiction of the Belt Alliance. Under their contracts, and for a substantial fee, the Belters could request armed escorts from the BA private navy if they were heading to a risky location. In this instance due to the sheer level of money involved the Belt Alliance had no less than Thirty One Gunships, escort destroyers and Carriers in the system shepherding the human ships. It was one of the biggest Belt Alliance deployments in it's history, but of course would not last long against a real military force.

Paul was part of this group, adding the extremely impressive anti fighter defences of his ship to the convoy. The Race had been armed with Earth Force interceptors and fire control computers a generation ahead of the Belt Alliance equivalents, a thank you from the Earth Intelligence Agency for services rendered. While the ships cargo pods were filled with Refugees instead of the more preferable 'Q-Ship' masked gun pods they had also acquired its basic defences could shred a squadron of the Dilgar's finest fighter jets.

One other Freighter was a well armed Bulk vessel, though not comparable to the Race, beyond that each freighter had limited defences, usually just one particle gun or small plasma cannon, and were totally dependant on the Belt Alliance escorts.

In that matter they could draw some confidence, the Belt Alliance ships while built to Merchantile standards rather Military grades could still weather a respectable barrage of fire. Their Gunships were considered superior to Earth Force's equally sized but more expensive patrol units and the newest Star Fox fighters were direct copies of early model Starfuries.

While the Belt Alliance were restricted to primitive weapons and small hulls by Earth their skill at turning out designs within the rules that were still excellent light ships had annoyed many EA Senators and impressed many EA Generals. Most ships used Blast Cannons, no more than starship grade shotguns ideal for swatting squadrons of fighters or pelting enemy ships with armour piercing bolts of heavy metals. Earth Force had abandoned the design for Rail guns even before First Contact with the Centauri but he Belters had made it their own.

Likewise the Belt Alliance fighters had nowhere near the power of a Starfury but compensated with cheap easy to build and maintain designs. The famous triangular Delta-V Zephyr was the most widely known, often flying under Raider colours, but the Star Fox was more effective. With a stand up Cockpit, multiple directional thrusters and uniquely a slug based chain gun with fearsome armour penetration they were not craft to take lightly.

Add to this the fact that many of the crews and pilots had served in Earth Force, and more recently other navies as the BA expanded into Narn space and accepted League refugees into the payroll and it made the little ugly ships into one of the best escort and patrol forces in known space.

Sadly the Belt Alliance were not Earth Force. Where an EA warship could exact a heavy toll on a small Dilgar force the Belt Alliance just did not have the firepower or endurance to take on more than a scout or patrol ship, even a basic Dilgar Frigate was a tough proposition thanks to the Dilgar insistence on cramming guns onto every conceivable area of hull, something Earth also tended to do.

The Belt Alliance had provided escorts into League space to aid blockade running at first, but casualties had proven unacceptably high which had prompted the EA Government to ban such missions anyway to prevent the risk of a human officer provoking a substantial Dilgar retaliation against the Alliance as a whole. The commission for running escorts was more than enough to replace lost ships, but lost crews were a tougher prospect so the BA was more than happy to comply.

In situations like this the escorts and freighters had the same orders, run and try to escape. By taking on the job against Earth's recommendations they couldn't expect help from the Navy, and looking at the ramshackle nature of the Descari ships they weren't going to get much help their either. The Human vessels were going to have to fend for themselves.

"Put us at the front of the convoy." Paul pushed himself out of his chair. "We've got the best defence grid, if we take point we'll draw most of the Dilgar fire."

"Nice idea General Custer!" Toby grumbled.

Paul took a seat at the weapons console, the place Jenny would usually have occupied. He had been tremendously disappointed she hadn't joined this mission and blamed himself for the disorganized and ill conceived attempt he had made to convince her. Jors had suggested hiring a replacement, but for some reason Paul couldn't put another person in that chair. It felt like closing a door on something important.

So instead he would man the weapons, which was far from ideal as it would absorb his concentration when he should be acting as Captain. He was simply going to have to trust his crew to know their jobs and stay within the mutual protection of the BA convoy. He activated the system and brought the various targeting sensors and countermeasures online.

"Signal from the Descari local command," Toby relayed. "They're going to try and clear us a path to the gate."

"Generous of them." Jors remarked flatly.

"We're hauling tens of thousands of refugees, they need to own the gate so we can get out." Paul reasoned. "Plus we're only one convoy."

"I expected them to circle their homeworld, like the Abbai and Brakiri did."

Paul shook his head. "The Abbai had defences, and the Brakiri had a fleet that could hold its own. These guys know they don't have a chance at stopping the Dilgar, so they'll save who they can. Hell of a call to make."

"Hell of a call." Jors repeated sombrely.

The Descari ships were a mix of their own designs and larger vessels copied from captured Narn heavy ships. While the Descari ships looked like Narn cruisers on the outside they had far less firepower and protection, plus their crews didn't have the single minded dedication to fighting and winning as their Narn counterparts. Despite these failings however the Descari crews moved to engage the Dilgar head to head, their painfully slow ships forming a line in front of the various refugee ships with the intention of at least temporarily breaking through to the jump gate and letting the lucky few of their people already in orbit escape.

Unfortunately the Dilgar had foreseen this event and predicted almost down to the exact placement of the Descari fleet what tactics they would use, where they would strike and how effective such an attack would be. Their analysis did not bode well for the Descari, and while it looked like the gate was relatively lightly guarded it was a trick.

Once the Descari took the bait and moved on the Jump gate the bulk of the Dilgar fleet would suddenly alter course and pounce, hitting the Descari formation on three flanks and pushing it away from both the gate and the planet towards deep space. At the same time the bombardment ships and their escorts would encircle the virtually defenceless planet and begin the process of pacification with Mass Drivers and Nuclear bombs. The Descari were considered useful slaves due to their strong physical build, so biological weapons were mercifully not to be used.

The defenders raced forward towards the gate keeping nothing in reserve. Every cruiser and destroyer set course and advanced at full thrust, convoy escorts and fighters left their charges for this vital mission and from Bestine itself glittering swarms of atmosphere capable gunships, police cutters and light fighters answered the call to arms. It was almost every ship the Descari had, perhaps on or two other ships were still out in deep space escorting earlier convoys but as far as the Dilgar were concerned the next hour or two would make or break the Descari. In all likelihood the latter.

"Deploy fighters and standby to advance." Warmaster Sha'dur commanded.

"Yes sir, orders sent." His Aide Captain Evenil responded efficiently. The neatly spaced Dilgar ships began to slot into their preparatory positions and made ready for the order to engage.

"I want the convoys ignored." The Warmaster emphasised. "I am aware they are tempting targets but we have other concerns first."

He kept his eyes fixed on the readouts and displays, converting the numbers to an image in his head of the fleets moving in relation to each other. He'd found visualising the data had helped him tremendously when it came to planning.

"Start the turn." He ordered without warning, judging the Descari were in the right position far enough away from both gate and planet. "Increase to attack speed, all weapons fire and will. Release the fighters to engage any targets of opportunity. I want no survivors."

Sha'dur had been an officer who had followed. At the start of his career he had followed his sister, but gradually he had ended up following a different band of senior officers who had taught him many wrong lessons. Those lessons had nearly killed him when fighting the Abbai and would have deprived Gar'shan of a valuable ally on the council, perhaps the true motives of those who had led Sha'dur.

For a while it was suggested he be given a second line job but his sister had sworn she could turn him into a real Warmaster in the same mold as herself and Dar'sen. For months she taught him, steered him and oversaw his battle plans. He had used his new found restraint and judgement at Brakir and Ipsha achieving success with acceptable losses. Following Dar'sen's fleet set up and Jha'dur's tactics he had managed to turn the Second Strike Fleet into a true force to be reckoned with.

Now he was facing his greatest test. The entire rimward front was under his command in Jha'dur's absence, it was now his responsibility to ensure the invasion remained on schedule without error or disaster. The simple weight of this task was tremendous, yet Sha'dur had not flinched. He had coolly and calmly destroyed the Llort and wiped out anything above ground on their planet. He had turned N'Chak'Fah into a giant target for Mass Driver practice, and now he was taking on yet another minor League power that stood in the path of Dilgar supremacy.

He had been transformed into an effective leader and final earned the title of Warmaster.

The Descari had taken the bait and fallen headlong into his trap, they were strung out and exposed in open space away from what scant support the token planetary defences could provide. Their ships were too primitive and travelling too fast to adequately slow down and redeploy to meet the real threat Sha'dur had now revealed and so whether by design or through total lack of choice the Descari held course and pressed on for the Jumpgate, hundreds of transports following in their wake.

The Dilgar ships turned away from the planet, accelerated and fell upon the open flank of the Descari like wolves among a flock of sheep. The ships closest to the attack were cut down in seconds, shredded by massed bolter fire or punctured by laser cannons. The Descari had tried hard to make their ships effective weapons, but compared to the Dilgar navy it was hopeless.

For every Descari ship turned to a flaming wreck two dozen fighters followed it, the Dilgar fighter wing not only outnumbered the under funded Descari aerospace forces but utterly outclassed them. The Thorun dartfighters were generations ahead of the simplistic Descari copies of already obsolete Narn craft, coupled with the experience and skill of the Dilgar pilots themselves it was a foregone conclusion.

Sha'dur had weighted the right side of his fleet with Dreadnoughts, these ships now lapped around the front of the Descari fleet like a tide rising into a cove blasting apart the forward Descari elements and forming a moving barricade between the fleet and the gate. The Descari tried, but nothing made it past the Dreadnoughts. Mile by mile the Descari were pushed away from the gate and further into the Dilgar trap.

Paul was close enough to see all this from the convoy trailing a safe distance behind the Descari fleet. Like an ever changing cloud of lights the Dilgar had closed and attacked the Descari in an all to familiar pattern. A League fleet out gunned, out manoeuvred and out fought by a Dilgar fleet. It was becoming far too common a sight to witness.

"They never had a chance." Jors commented with regret. "Poor fools."

"They're doing their job." Paul answered. "They're keeping the Dilgar pinned down destroying them. While that fleet is busy it gives us a better chance."

"Not much, that fleet guarding the gate still badly outguns us."

"Plus we have more Dilgar ships near the planet." Toby warned. "Look like bomb ships."

The distant flashes of the dying Descari fleet were clearly visible out of the forward left viewports, the fires of the battle burning away what scant hope the planet had held on to. Around them the other freighters not owned by humans were beginning to run from the second group of ships moving on the planet. There were a few flashes as the defences tried to respond but the massed fighters and heavy ships began to make short work of the satellites.

"We need to go now." Paul said. "Send a general signal, make for the gate and stop for nothing."

"We're taking charge of the whole convoy now?" Toby asked in surprise.

"Well I'm technically a Belt Alliance Captain, they hired me for that arms run to Brakir remember?" Paul pointed out. "Besides, we've done this plenty of times before."

"Angels and Ministers of Grace defend us." Jors muttered, then pushed up the engine power.

In heavy fighting Sha'dur would have deployed his own heavy Pentacan of five battleships into the fray, but in this case he was content to stay back and simply watch his main units go to work. There was no urgency in the work, no great concern and oddly for a battle the bridge was quite relaxed. It might as well have been a training exercise.

"The Dreadnought group is registering fifty six kills sir." Evenil informed. "Their commanders are wagering on how much tonnage they can kill each."

Sha'dur nodded in approval. "A little healthy competition never hurt. Inform them the winner will also receive a crate of vintage wine from the flagship's galley."

"Aye sir." Evenil looked back at her desk of consoles, noting something. "Warmaster, the refugee convoys are running for the gate."

"Our guard ships will handle them."

"You might want to see this." She forwarded on a sensor return. "One convoy is holding formation."

The senior officer took one look and felt a slight shiver.

"Humans." He announced. "Great."

"Over eighty ships, some seem well armed for escorts. Nothing beyond a destroyer size."

"Don't underestimate them." Sha'dur cautioned. "They are not to be dismissed so lightly."

"What shall we do sir?"

For a moment he contemplated letting them leave, but that would not enforce the policy of punishing those who interfered in Dilgar strategies or aided their enemies.

"Deploy Pentacans Thirty and thirty one, they will engage the refugees and destroy them. Tell them to use particular caution when engaging the humans." He paused. "And make sure a record of this engagement is made so my sister can watch. I am sure she will be fascinated with any example of human warfare."

"I don't think we need to worry about the guards at the gate." Toby said.

"Why?"

"Because we're going to be dead long before we get there, two battle groups heading our way, fighters on point."

The fighters didn't bother Paul so much, good as they were they couldn't dodge interceptor fire and all the BA escorts mounted adequate overlapping defences. The warships were another matter.

"We should have packed some nukes." Jors said absently.

"Even Jenny didn't let us play with that sort of firepower." Toby responded.

"So we use what we have." Paul spoke firmly. "Our interceptors can stop their gunfire, put us between the convoy and the Dilgar."

"If we're going for guns we won't be able to shoot fighters." Jors warned.

"Well we'll have to rely on the others to watch our backs." The Captain allowed. "This is going to suck so stay cool, Toby watch for new problems and Jors keep us mobile."

"I need a new job." Toby clenched his eyes shut. "I'm going grey and I'm nowhere near thirty yet!"

"Relax, we've been through worse." Paul stated, not really believing it. "Trust me, when have I ever been wrong?"

The Belters began changing position to match the Space Race, the escorts forming a loose wall between the main threat and the convoy. Within the convoy itself the individual freighters armed their light weapons, while individually they didn't look like much among fifty freighters those small guns suddenly started to look quite formidable.

"Belters are launching fighters." Toby said. "I count sixty total."

"Better than nothing." Paul said. "Advise them to stay behind us and go for the Dilgar fighters that get past us. Tell them not to try and chase the Dilgar if they run and stay the hell away from the warships."

"Got it." Toby confirmed. "And wow, they actually acknowledged."

"Good to be famous." Jors grinned grimly.

"We've got a message, the Hispaniola bulk freighter on our six."

Paul didn't recognize the name. "Go ahead."

"Space Race," A female voice crackled through the static. "We're hauling a battery of point defence cannons down here, you won't see them on scans yet. Call them an after market add on."

Paul frowned. "Carly? Is that you?"

"Hey Paul, been a while."

He laughed slightly. "Damn, that's a nice ship! Last time I saw you, you were pottering about on some barely spaceworthy piece of junk!"

"Hey, I could say the same of you!" She called back. "You think you're the only one to make a fortune running routes to the League?"

"So what you packing Carly?"

"Twelve particle cannons."

"Ouch." Jors hissed. "Nasty surprise for Raiders."

"They aren't interceptors but I'd hate to be a fighter that got too close." Carly remarked. "We'll keep those fighters off your back while you do your thing."

"You're a dream Carly." Paul enthused.

"Now why didn't my ex-husband think like you do? You owe me a round for each fighter when we get back."

"Deal. Good to have you around Carly, best of luck."

The Dilgar fighters blasted forward, outpacing the warships that had launched them and zeroing in on the Belt Alliance ships. Paul immediately spotted their mistake, by advancing away from the warships the fighters were going to be isolated, instead of the Earth ships needing to split fire between incoming weapons and aircraft they could concentrate on fighters first and hopefully kill enough to focus all their attention on gunfire later. Clearly the Dilgar here didn't understand exactly how deadly Interceptor grids could be to unsupported fighters.

Behind the fighters the warships were a more difficult prospect, the two Pentacans based on a single Targath class strike cruiser, a useful multirole warship with nasty weapons and a spacious hangar deck for fighters. Backing them up were two Ochlavita class destroyers and two Jashakar class frigates each. Both models were well armed and more than a match for a BA ship alone, and while the Dilgar were outnumbered three to one ship the actual tonnage figures were a lot closer thanks to the larger and heavier nature of the hostile cruisers. The real difference was in firepower, with many BA ships outgunned by just one weapon on the bigger Dilgar warships.

But even so the Belters had more interceptors then the Dilgar had offensive weapons, so provided the systems held on long enough before over heating the odds were not as hopeless as they seemed. The Interceptors were humanities wonder weapons, they had been trailed, improved and tested in intense combat before now, but absorbing fire from ten well armed Dilgar ships and four squadrons of fighters was going to be a very strenuous ordeal. No doubt the folks in the EIA would be interested in Paul's report, provided he lived long enough to deliver it.

"Enemy fighters locking on, they're breaking into attack formation." Toby warned, information that was feeding through the top grade scanners to Paul's weapons screen.

"Do we let them fire first?" Jors asked.

"Bollocks to that!" Paul huffed. "Tell everyone to fire at will."

"All ships, all units, fire at will, I repeat fire at will." Toby announced, then covered the microphone and grinned from ear to ear. "Always wanted to say that."

The Space Race interceptors fired first, their slightly longer range letting them reach out and strike the still manoeuvring Dilgar fighters before the pilots were fully prepared. The targeting computer did most of the work, tracking courses, predicting where the enemy might go and straddling the area with quick firing white and blue pulses. The ship had enough guns to reliably target two fighters at once, or up to eight incoming pulses which were much easier to predict and target.

Paul's job consisted of picking out the biggest threats and assigning them a priority for the targeting system, it was remarkably easy and yielded instantly satisfying results as the first fighters burst into brief flames. The real trick was designating the right targets at the right time to keep the enemy off balance and under fire, if he got confused or too focused on one target he could miss the deadly shot that sneaked by and killed them. And with Dilgar weapons it would only need one good hit from a cruiser to end their lives.

He needed to remain cool and detached, looking objectively at the whole battle space and watching for trouble. He was quick enough to pre-empt the Dilgar moves but couldn't truly predict what tactics the enemy would use unlike a well trained military officer. He quickly came to appreciate how good Jenny was to make it look so effortless.

Surprised as they must have been the Thoruns did not panic and barely flinched. Rapidly they altered formation to account for losses, spread out to avoid the little armed freighter and drove for the until now silent BA escorts, perhaps guessing the quasi military ships were not so well armed. They were partially right, the Race had true Earth Force interceptors but that did not mean the BA ships were any less dangerous once they closed range.

The dart fighters crashed into a wall of well placed energy fire, the BA ships laying down the same long range suppression fire the Race had done carpeting every possible vector with interceptors. The fighters that held course were wiped out, with those who took evasive action finding their paths also filled with showering white pulses. The best pilots managed to weave their way out of the nightmare, throwing the agile but large fighters into random twists and turns that helped confuse the human targeting computers, but more than half of the attacking wings had been gutted, two dozen wrecks gliding silently towards the wake of the convoy.

The surviving fighters retreated out of range, sufficiently humbled and retired to the line of slowly advancing warships.

Toby was extremely pleased by their performance, though Paul was just relieved. Already his eyes ached from darting back and forth across the control panel and he'd only had to operate the system for less than a minute.

"They bugged out." Toby reported happily.

"Yeah, but they're on their way back." Paul saw. "And this time they're playing it smart."

Instead of rushing forward the Dartfighters were now sheltering alongside the bigger warships and using their bulk as cover. While interceptors were deadly against fighters they just didn't pack enough punch to really hurt a warship, any hits would just chip paint. It slowed down the advance letting the convoy get closer and closer and to the Gate, but it was still not going to be close enough.

"There's something else." Toby spoke up. "The Planet."

Paul momentarily focused his high resolution sensors on Bestine and performed a quick sweep. It didn't take him long to spot what had caught his sensor operators attention.

"Mass drivers." He grimaced.

"They're in position, loaded and firing." Toby echoed quietly. "Looks like they're going for the main population centres."

"Same story." Paul bit down on his lip in impotent rage. "Every world they hit, always the same. Genocide."

Far behind them the bombardment ships began their deadly work, their escorts brushing away the last surviving fighters near the planet with no real effort. A few flickers of glowing light rolled through space as the fighters burned out before falling silent forever while a pair of broken space stations fell from orbit, their ruptured hulls exposing the stacked skeleton of decks and beams inside.

The drivers began their work, the rocks varying in size from a couple of hundred metres to upwards of half a mile depending on the ship firing them. Even the smaller projectiles could level a city, piercing the sky and impacting like a fiery bullet turning a thriving city among the trees into showering brown dust.

Chancellor Grollow, leader of the Descari committees and commander in chief of the military calmly stood on the roof of the Chancellory above the height of the nearby trees and observed the path of the flaming missiles, each leaving a white tube of cloud across the bright blue sky. He counted six separate tracks and watched as one hit the ground beyond the horizon, roughly where the planetary Army command was situated. The black and purple mushroom cloud was already thousands of feet high by the time the shockwaves reached him, violently shaking the building and cracking its façade.

People screamed in panic beneath him, the streets were filled with litter and detritus as the frantic population raced for some assumed safety in underground transport tubes or basements. Two upturned cars burned on the roadside while riot police fired wildly into looters and refugees not caring who was gunned down. Civilization on Bestine was effectively at an end, even without a Dilgar soldier setting foot on the surface.

Grollow observed a final rock on its way down, arcing tightly over and then seeming to stop in midair, an optical illusion that told the Chancellor it was heading straight down towards him. He ran every decision he had made, every order given and request refused through his mind to try and decide if he had done the right thing, if this had been preventable. The simple answer was yes, if he had acted two years ago when all this started he would not be stood here now looking at fiery death.

He had ignored a race in this same position begging for help, it seemed a sort of poetic justice that he now stood here at the end of his races existence and likewise, there was no help coming.

From orbit Paul spared a moment of grief as the Descari capital city was consumed in a twenty mile wide fireball that turned slowly into an ugly black cloud. Amid the blackness was the occasional flash of white flame, almost like the souls of the dead flying up and escaping the maelstrom.

But one moment was all he could spare, millions had died but thousands could yet be saved if the human freighters could hold together and break through to the gate.

"Receiving targeting lock." Toby warned. "It's the warships."

"Alright, focus defences on incoming fire."

"What about the fighters?"

"We'll have to let the freighters fend for themselves." Paul said. "Fighters might kill them in a few minutes, but if we let one of those warships break through its over in seconds."

"Setting priorities." Toby agreed. "Fleet is ready."

"Okay, well lets trust in the defence grid and hope the engines don't fail."

Jors raised an eyebrow. "If my engines fail you can shoot me yourself. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Me too," Paul said. "These death defying escapes are getting to be more and more effort. Are we getting paid enough."

Toby and Jors answere din unison. "Yes!"

"Well, okay then, Toby can pick the next contract."

"Hauling bed springs to Proxima." He said immediately. "Nobody ever died from bed springs."

"Fair enough, keep an eye out for flanking tactics and listen to any distress signals. Here we go yet again."

The Dilgar warships fired at medium range cutting down a little on the reaction times of the defensive gunners. Fortunately with so many interceptors available the results were buch the same. The barrage of Dilgar pulse weaponry was either stopped or went wide through miscalculated targeting, none of the BA ships or freighters were damaged in the first volley. In return the BA vessels held their fire, their weapons only really effective at virtually point blank range, and even then there was no guarantee against a warships armoured hide.

The Thorun fighters began advancing again now the escorts were tied down by the Dilgar warships, sweeping at long range around the line of escorts and lining up on the laden transports burning for the gate. They had been over eager at first and the interceptors had punished them for it, but they were fast learners and were handling the second approach with much more caution.

"You were right," Toby announced. "Fighters are flanking."

"Yeah, they're gonna make this hard for us." Paul grunted. "Well we're busy, get me Carly."

Toby flickek a few switches. "You're up."

"Carly, you there?"

"Ready and waiting." She answered.

"We've got fighters on their way, might help if you pulled back and held close to the freighters."

"Tired of me already?" she said with a smile in her voice. "No problem Paul, we'll back up our own fighters."

"Don't let them gang up on you," Paul warned. "Once they see you're the main threat…"

"Relax, I've done this sort of thing before, you just watch those cruisers."

The Hispaniola broke away from the escort block and sidled across to the freighters to take up a position towards the centre, its dozen point defence turrets swinging back and forth as the system warmed up and checked its readiness. The vessel was a gaudy yellow and blue colour and a fair amount larger than the rest of the freighters. While most ships were hauling eight thousand or so civilians crammed like sardines into the cargo holds the Hispaniola had nearly forty thousand in its vast internal bays, making use of the full three dimensions of internal space thanks to the lack of gravity on board.

Carly Cruz was the eponymous owner of 'Cruz's Cruises' and as far as Paul was concerned had the name and birthright to be something of a celebrity in the freighter community. She usually ran the Hispaniola as a passenger ship but had lately started ripping out the rooms and berths in order to carry huge amounts of freight on the profitable but sometimes deadly League routes. Carly didn't have Paul's connections in Earth Force but had still managed to acquire a slightly more than legal loadout of weapons on her ship and a lot of extra armour. It made the ship lethal to Raiders and their light fighters, and would hopefully proof a tough challenge for even the elite Dilgar pilots.

The freighters closed together to create a sort of interlocking fire and try to cover each other while the BA fighter craft weaved in and out of the convoy prepared to face the Dilgar from the cover of the Hispaniola. Even the ex-Earth Force pilots knew better than to risk tangling with a Thorun squadron in the open.

The Dilgar fighters lined up and once certain the BA escort ships were occupied accelerated for the convoy ready to extract some vengeance. Despite orders to take on warships first the pilots had it in their minds to attack the convoy and the thousands of refugees it contained, judging the blood that would be spilled by their attack to easily justify their initiative.

The convoy waited until the fighters crossed into optimal firing range, then on Carly's orders opened fire, a lengthy barrage of orange and yellow streaks of light that scattered the black of space before them. However the Thorun pilots had expected this and fell into a well practiced series of evasive twists and turns, each one using the agility of their dart fighters to its upmost limit. The faster firing interceptors and their advanced targeting systems would have shredded the Dilgar despite the dodges they were performing, but the conventional particle guns weren't much better than the ones employed by the League and offered no new challenges to the Dilgar.

The fighters drew in closer, entering their own firing range and giving the pilots opportunity to try their own attack runs. The first four Thoruns strafed the rearmost freighter, theur bolt cannons mostly bouncing off the hull leaving minimal damage. They whipped around, pursued by a criss cross of defensive fire and made another run, looking for some weakpoint they could exploit.

Their path took them right under the Hispaniola allowing Carly's gunners to let loose with their guns at close range. The relatively heavy firepower of the big freighter caught the Dilgar off guard, slamming three fighters out of the sky and forcing the other to run. It rolled up and over the Hispaniola straight into a trio of Delta fighters which managed to hit it enough times to snap a fuel line and ignite the Thorun's reactor.

The remaining fighters gave the Hispaniola a wide berth, deigning to wait for cruiser support before taking on the well defended ship. They instead began to engage the freighters at very close range in order to throw off the defensive gunnery. Carly's crew were pretty accurate but not good enough to hit a Thorun that was skimming a friendly without a very good chance of hitting the freighter itself, and the damage done by a ship mounted cannon would be worse than an average Thorun strafe.

It came down to the BA fighters, the Delta's and Starfoxes to take on the Dilgar now. By weaving close to their targets it was hard for the Dilgar to concentrate a flight or squadron on one target and take it out quickly, instead they had to stay on the same ship for several minutes gradually wearing it down and avoiding counter fire. The BA fighters ganged up on the small Dilgar groups using their numbers to try and flush out the Thorun, either to give the convoy a clean shot with point defences or try for a clean kill themselves.

A pair of Delta fighters rolled onto the tail of a Thorun and engaged with everything they had, the particle guns mostly missing the deceptively agile heavy weight fighter or simply bouncing off on the rare occasions they did strike. A few miles away a Starfox hit it's target first time with a deflection shot from its chain gun, the heavy metal projectile slicing the wing tip engine clean off the Thorun sending the Dilgar ship and pilot spinning out of control and away from the battle.

Every second they bought brought them closer to the gate, but it also brought the Dilgar warships closer. The BA escorts were now able to fire their offensive weapons at maximum range toward the enemy vessels, though any hits were largely ignored.

"We've still got heavy warships at the gate." Jors cautioned. "They're waiting for us."

"Probably going to do the old hammer and anvil thing with the ships closing." Paul guessed. "We'll just have to rush past and trust in the interceptors."

"Going to be nasty." Jors winced. "At that range we won't get a lot of reaction time."

"Our defences can handle it."

"What about the rest of the convoy?" Jors pointed out. "They don't have our friends in high places."

"We'll just have to cover them as best we can."

From his screen Paul could see the extremely difficult situation they were in. To their far left the Descari Navy was all but destroyed, the last few ships fighting to the death against the Dilgar Strike Fleet. Behind them the planet was undergoing a lengthy systematic bombardment focused on bases and population centres, even from so far away he could see the small circles of black representing massive clouds of smoke and dust. On their rear right quarter were the two chasing Pentacans, they had fighters among the convoy and they had a Dreadnought and heavy cruiser escort blocking the gate.

That was Paul's immediate concern, the Dilgar had moved to a point less than half a mile in front of the gate struts, going around them would be all but impossible which meant they had to go through. Flying between the Dilgar formation seemed a nice idea until he worked out the sort of crossfire they would be flying into. It wasn't healthy.

He was confident in the Race, but the rest of the convoy probably wasn't going to make it.

The Dilgar fighters continued their cat and mouse game among the freighters, using their training to lure the civilian fighter pilots into traps and easily blast apart the Delta fighters, though the Starfury inspired Starfoxes proved somewhat harder. One pilot who had seen action at Brakir performed a tight backflip, chan gun shuddering every instrument he had as he unloaded heavy calibre rounds into a Thorun diving on him from behind the Hispaniola. The Dilgar craft fractured without even a fireball, just a brief puff of white gas.

Far ahead the first of the Descari freighters ran for the gate, chosing to try and escape alone instead of being tied to a slow moving convoy. They entered range with their holds crammed full of civilians and were mercilessly shot to pieces by the guard ships, little more than callous target practice for the Dilgar. It revolted Paul to the pit of his stomach, but he wa spowerless to help and knew he too would have to face the same barrage as the convoy moved inexorably forward.

The Chase fleet was also very close now, the interceptors were beginning to overheat as they had to work harder against the close ranged fire. The BA ships were firing with their own guns now, solid rounds clinking up into gun turrets and blasting in a ball of bright flaming gas towards their opponents, the barrels recoiling viciously and slinking back afterwards ready for the next shot.

At close range the solid rounds were performing rather well against the Dilgar, the shots punching through the warship armour and breaching the Dilgar hulls. Unfortunately the rounds just didn't have a large enough calibre to really hurt a ship the size of a Dilgar cruiser.

One of the gunships ranged a lucky shot against a Dilgar destroyer catching one of its heavy guns with a well placed shell. The round penetrated the gun shield and exploded inside, wrecking the machinery and shattering the hull nearby in a burst of flame. In retaliation another Dilgar ship cut another BA escort into thirsds with its laser cannons, neatly slicing armour and systems with little impediment.

"Two minutes to the gate." Toby reported. "We could use a plan."

"Working on it." Paul assured.

"Could you work a little harder?" Jors asked. "Unless our plan is to close our eyes and accelerate."

"I better make that plan B then." Paul exhaled. "Okay, there's a lot of wreckage out there from Descari freighters. They weren't lucky enough to make it but if we use their wreckage as cover it might take the strain off the interceptors a little, give us a chance."

"Hell of a long shot chief." Jors' face contorted to a grimace.

"Well it's all we've got. Spread the word."

Toby didn't get a chance, his sensors blazing with an energy surge.

"Someone's opening the gate!"

"What? We aren't close enough yet?" Paul snarled. "What moron just wasted our…"

"It's opening from the other side, incoming!"

"More Dilgar?" Jors asked.

"I don't think so, not based on these signals." Toby frowned at the display, running the details past the ships records. "Hey, according to this they're Vree!"

"No way!" Paul exclaimed.

"Oh yeah." Jors grinned. "This is going to be fun to see."

The Vree fleet from Beta Nine had made good time on its journey to relieve Brakir, well armed and resolute the Vree ships represented a powerful force that could not be ignored by the Dilgar. Not only was the Vree force a potent weapon of war but the Dilgar at Brakir were understrength thanks to Jha'dur calling up reserves for the Drazi counter offensive. The Vree were conducting a strike in exactly the right place at exactly the right time, it had all the marks of being a success.

Except for one oversight, the Vree fleet had diverted to meet the League envoys and explain the Vree Conglomerates position on the war, something which had expended fuel and supplies requiring the fleet to stop off on the way and resupply. That way point was to be Bestine. A message had been sent warning the government of the fleets arrival, however the message and anyone who had known of it including the Descari Chancellor had been atomised during the first wave of bombings before they could reply and tell the Vree to stay away.

It also meant the Dilgar had not intercepted any messages of warning and so had absolutely no idea what was about to happen. Sha'dur had logically enough deployed picquets in hyperspace to avoid just such a situation and spot any reinforcements before they arrived. However the Vree navigators were almost legendary for their ability to find shortcuts through hyperspace and had managed to completely bypass the Dilgar frigate line, which also meant the Vree had no idea that Bestine was no under Dilgar control.

Neither side was expecting each other and neither side was ready for a firefight on these confused and awkward terms, unfortunately fate didn't really take suggestions from mere mortals and threw both fleets at each other regardless.

The first three saucers through the gate were dead before they knew what was happening. By putting their ships so close to the gate the Dilgar had made very sure no vessel could get out but had not expected ships to suddenly arrive behind them. All three Vree ships ran into the back of the commanding Mishakur dominating the guard fleet, two were sufficient to destroy it while the third merely made sure of the job, the pitiful remnants of all four ships drifting rapidly out of the way streaming gas and fuel.

The rest of the Vree fleet now had a clear path and ship followed ship out of the gate before the wide eyes of the Dilgar cruiser officers surrounding the gate. Twenty saucers had made it through before they finally snapped out of it and ordered their batteries to open fire across the mouth of the gate and start doing damage.

If anything the Vree were even more surprised than the Dilgar, but unlike the Dilgar did not have anything like the sort of disciplined training necessary to react swiftly to changing circumstances. The ships that made it through first did however have enough sense to see the danger posed by the Dilgar cruisers around the gate and turned hard about to deal with them.

Two Vree ships were shot to pieces as they exited the gate, still with virtually no warning of the impending threat, before the first wave had quickly turned and began firing. While not a military race the saucers were very fast, well built and heavily armed with anti-matter cannons that were lethal at close range.

The saucers made a lightning fast strafe on the cruisers, with five Vree ships ganging up on each cruiser and smothering it in antimatter. Given the volatile nature of drive and weapon systems Dilgar ships often exploded brightly, but with the addition of a barrage of antimatter reacting explosively with the ships hull these particular Dilgar ships died in spectacular fireballs that shimmered on the underside of the Vree combat vessels.

"Now that was worth sticking around to see!" Toby clapped his hands together.

On the sensors Vree ships were pouring out of the gate and gradually realising the depth of the hot water they were sinking rapidly into. They formed standard battle formations and continued advancing, realising their speed was an advantage to be maintained.

The warships attacking the BA convoy had broken off a few seconds after the Vree arrived, the commander realising correctly that a far greater threat needed his attention. They redeployed quickly into a static formation in the path of the oncoming Vree fleet while the convoy took a little evasive action to avoid the inevitable exchange of gunfire.

"Anything we can do here?" Toby asked.

"Yeah, keep running!" Paul said. "They cleared the gate for us and we've got a hold full of refugees. Lets get out of here before something screws that up!"

The Dilgar ships opened fire at long range in the path of the Vree ships. The saucers did not respond, at this range their anti matter weapons diffused enough to the point where they were largely ineffective. A few ships launched antimatter torpedoes, but they were quickly hunted down by Thoruns before they could deliver their deadly payload.

As the range closed rapidly a pair of saucers fell out of formation, their gravitic drives fluctuating and spinning the ship like a top, round and around in a dizzying spiral robbing it of any control. The other Vree returned fire, outnumbering the Dilgar they thundered past the BA fleet without a second glance and parted to envelope the Dilgar pursuit squadrons. Simple weight of fire carried the engagement, flaying the armour from the Dilgar ships and causing massive internal damage as bolts of blazing green antimatter annihilated anything in their path.

The Vree had not even altered course, and even now pressed on in a straight line directly towards Bestine itself and the bombardment ships.

Warmaster Sha'dur was fuming at the incompetence of his picquet line for failing to do its job, mentally making a note to execute the commanders responsible for deploying too far out from the gate and allowing themselves to be flanked. He closed his eyes, accepted the fury and allowed it to well up inside him like a boiling geyser, then buried it. He found that if he allowed a few moments of pure emotion and basically got it out of his system he could then better focus calmly on the mission at hand and not rush into any major mistakes.

"Cut communications." He ordered with a wave of the hand. Immediately Evenil silenced the frantic comms chatter and brought relative peace and quiet to the bridge.

"Where are they now?" He asked, still with his eyesed closed.

"Heading for Bestine, they have destroyed our convoy raiders and gate guards." Evenil reported. "Many freighters are escaping."

"Irrelevent, ignore them." He dismissed. "The Descari fleet?"

"Ninety five percent destroyed." She paused. "Ninety six now."

"Ignore the rest for now, break contact, come hard about and advance on Bestine at maximum speed."

"Understood Warmaster."

"I'll bet these Descari ships run, let them, they are no threat." Sha'dur said. "The Vree however can really hurt us, but if we handle this right we can give them a real beating."

"Sir?"

"Look at the sensors Captain, the Vree ships didn't have their jump engines charged, they were at cruising stations." He said, still with eyelids masking his gaze. "We can get between them and the gate, cut them off from retreat until their engines recharch. In that time we can gut them."

"What our bombardment ships? They aren't set up for a fleet battle."

Sha'dur opened his blue eyes. "Casualties of war."

The main battleforce took its orders and disengaged immediately, displaying none of the reckless bloodlust of earlier battles where ships would remain in battle until every enemy ship, fighter and lifepod was a black shell. They broke away with a final stuttered volley of suppressive fire in a textbook withdrawal designed to discourage the Descari from trying to pursue. They need not have bothered, the handful of Descari warships thanked their deities for the unexpected miracle and ran at maximum speed for the jump gate, for them the battle was over.

But for the Dilgar the main event was still to come. The Vree ships either did not see Sha'dur or more likely did not care, perhaps believing they could slay the ships bombing Bestine before the main force could arrive to interfere in that plan. The Vree certainly had a speed advantage, but the Dilgar at the planet were hardly going to take the attack lying down.

The Bombardment force consisted mostly of light ships with nothing larger than a destroyer, and the Athraskala class bombardment vessels themselves were of very limited effectiveness in open battle. Even so they pulled away from orbit and deployed for battle, their fighters taking point and long range weapons locking on to the incoming Vree.

The Dilgar fired first, throwing out any weapon they had into the path of the fast moving saucers, lasers, particle bolts and missiles and spluttered forward in a kaleidascope of colour and cut into the leading Vree vessels. The fast moving ships took evasive action avoiding some of the deadly barrage but a few were not so lucky. Three Saucers were sliced apart by lasers, their rotating drive trains throwing wreckage out in wild directions as the ships literally flew apart in a spinning wheel of violence. Others took pulse hits, blasting gaping holes in their hulls and sometimes sending the targeted vessel into a back flip over and over again.

The Vree launched their own fighters, tiny and nimble craft that shared the saucer shape common to their bigger cousins. These fighters were so small they could be carried in immense numbers, coupled with their amazing agility they represented very hard targets to suppress. Unfortunately the price for that was paper thin armour and weak cannons making them overall inferior to their Dilgar counterparts.

The first Thorun wave broke through the fighter screen in a vicious exchange of red and green pulse fire, the bigger Dilgar fighters muscling past the Vree with few losses, clearing a path for missile armed craft coming up behind. These fighters closed in on the Vree warships, accepting the deadly anti fighter defences and the losses they inflicted to find the perfect position, then opened fire.

The missiles had been provided to deal with the Descari defence satellites and were standard armour piercing nuclear tipped warheads, deadly against most targets the Dilgar had met though very expensive to use often. The missiles that hit punched a neat hole in the Vree saucers, briefly illuminating the interior in an orange engine glow before the system cut out. For a heartbeat there was nothing, then the unfortunate vessel vanished in a brief white flash that flung molten wreckage out into space, often wedging in the hulls of nearby vessels. Even though the Dilgar warheads were relatively small the internal detonations were more than sufficient to break apart the Vree warships.

While the Vree were not natural soldiers they did understand that their ships and way of war was best suited to close range duelling, something which the Dilgar also tended to favour. In many ways the Vree ships represented an ideal the Dilgar designers were aiming for, though the Warmasters would not readily accept a ship that depended on just one basic weapon type like the Vree did.

The Vree hit the bombardment ships like a blizzard, both sides pummelling each other with point blank fire as the two front lines intersected and dissolved into one another. Dilgar ships fell to the intense volleys of antimatter, exploding in showers of light and blazing wreckage while the Vree ships ran foul of the accuracy and well trained gun crews the Dilgar employed.

Despite the disparity in age and technology both fleets proved more than capable of killing each other, with Vree agility countered by well sited Dilgar guns offering all round coverage and the powerful Vree weaponry matched by the simple number and concentration of Dilgar guns.

The Vree weaved through the battle line spitting Antimatter back and forth, the static Dilgar vessels blossomed whenever they were touched, their armour doing little to protect them but still offering some limited chance for the crews to survive. Planetary attack missiles glided slowly into the path of the Vree force, some slower Captains flying right into them and immolating themselves in city killing blasts of nuclear energy. Damaged Dilgar ships attempted to ram, but were sidestepped by the nimble Vree and showered with blistering attacks instead.

The main target of the Vree fleet was the bombardment ships and these came in for special attention. Saucers ganged up on the bomb ships, coming in from different angles to head them off and destroy them rapidly, often taking just one or two passes to finish the job. The escorts responded bravely, but there was little they could do except defend themselves from the constant attacks which were by now coming in from all sides as individual Vree ships engaged at will.

The bombardment group was picked apart, but it had fulfilled both of its jobs. It had smashed the Descari Government and infrastructure enough to remove it as a threat and it had tied down the Vree long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

Those new Dilgar ships, fresh from smashing the Descari Navy now began engaging the fast moving saucers, advancing slowly and methodically picking off ships as they entered range.

The more heavily armoured Dilgar capital ships were able to soak up a few hits from the antimatter cannons, each hit leaving a black silver streaked crater in the hull often leaking atmosphere but not allowing internal damage. In return the heavy guns under Sha'dur's command opened fire at medium range, deliberately holding back to force the Vree to either close into the teeth of a heavy barrage or stand off and see their weaponry cause less damage through diffusion.

"My sister was right." Sha'dur commented as he watched two Saucers vanish in a storm of bright flame. "She said the Vree had the best attack ships in the Galaxy, and the worst commanded."

Evenil watched the continually updating tactical display as she listened to the Warmaster, always interested in furthering her knowledge of strategy. "They have taken a heavy toll on our bombardment force sir."

"Those ships are deadly at close range, and have the speed and agility to get there with minimal losses. Unfortunately ther eis no coordination, they arrive, break up and engage as single ships. Such a waste."

"I'm not seeing any cohesion in the Vree ranks." Evenil confirmed. "It's chaos in there."

"And chaos is no way to fight a war. By engaging our forces in orbit they have lost their speed advantage, we are deciding where the battle occurs now, not them. They are pinned, out of range and too dispersed to concentrate their power and really hurt us. The Vree are not a warrior race, and it is certainly showing today."

"How shall we proceed Warmaster?"

"Hold position and use our more accurate and better ranged guns to pick them apart one group at a time." He smiled. "Look at them, even though we've started hitting them they are still going for the mass drivers, they just do not grasp the threat we present. So much the better."

The arrival of the main fleet took the pressure off the escorts and allowed the damaged vessels to begin to retreat, Sha'dur had learned that a repairable ship was more useful than some sort of final gesture of sacrifice and defiance. The battle was rapidly turning against the Vree, their lack of a rigid chain of command now exposing them to the sudden change in circumstances they faced. Almost every gun in the Second Strike Fleet was now bearing on the Vree, smashing through their vessels as they insisted on continuing to attack their original targets, the situation was unsustainable.

Finally someone took responsibility and ordered a retreat, the order cutting through the confusion and reaching the surviving Vree both electronically and telepathically. Those vessels that could broke away and opened jump points in clear space. Some opened jump points still among the Dilgar fleet destroying at least two more vessels while a handful of damaged saucers simply exploded as the massive energies needed to open a vortex ran out of control.

The remaining Vree ships fled, entering the relative safety of Hyperspace and running for home with a shadow of their former power. Behind them abandoned fighters attempted to surrender and were met by vengeful Dilgar gunfire.

"Do we pursue Warmaster?"

"No," He answered Evenil. "Let them make it home and tell their people of this defeat, let them sow a little fear."

"We destroyed nearly three quarters of them sir."

"Good, but that represents just one expedition, the Vree have more ships than that at their disposal. Even with such atrocious leadership their simple numbers could pose a very serious threat to us. Hopefully they will be discouraged from venturing out in force after today."

"Yes sir."

"But this still should not have happened." Sha'dur said darkly. "We were surprised, and that is not something that should happen to a fleet like this. Someones head will roll. And I mean that literally."

A great distance away the Space Race came about and passed through the gate. Paul had chosen to stay behind and see what happened while the rest of the Human ships departed and made the run back to EA space. A stream of Descari freighters and a few warships had used the distraction the Vree caused to make good their escape, and if nothing else the saucers had let hundreds of thousands of civilians escape, albeit unknowingly.

"Well that kinda sucked." Toby grunted. "I thought Vree were better than that?"

"Advanced weapons don't win wars." Paul said. "Take a look at the Dilgar, they're not much better than our guys."

"Nice to look at though." Jors remarked. "You know they'll be going for the Vree next."

"Probably, and that little display does not fill me with confidence." Paul agreed. "They keep tripping over each others toes."

"They better get their act together." Jors said. "If they fall it'll be just the Markab."

"Then us." Toby guessed.

"We've told the Dilgar to stay away."

"And you think they're gonna listen?" the sensor operator scoffed. "Come on chief, they won't stop until their dead or until we are."

Paul didn't try to argue, he believed Toby for his youth was actually right.

Jors piloted the ship into hyperspace and past the beacon, the Dilgar oicquets still too far away to even notice the fleeing freighters and refugees. He didn't like to think what would happen to the force commander, but then again he was Dilgar and deserved anything he got by virtue of his species. Jors was no fan of any Dilgar by this point and considered them all blood stained mass murderers. Sadly most of them fitted the stereotype.

"So you going to see Jenny?" he asked.

"What? Why?" Paul snapped defensively.

"Give her the data we recorded on the battle?" he expanded.

"Oh, that. sure." Paul exhaled. "Yeah, business."

"Something happen?" the pilot asked. "you're usually the first to suggest a meeting with her?"

"Doesn't matter." Paul dismissed. "Lay in course for Altair and take us home, I'll send a secure message to the EIA when we cross the border."

Paul sunk back into his seat, despite the vital nature of the information they carried this was not a meeting he was looking forward to, even though it was once something he would have warmly embraced.

Like the world around him things were in turmoil and threatening to get worse.


	56. Chapter 56

55

Zhabar

Drazi Homeworld

This time when Stro'kath stormed towards the war room he found the doors already opened in expectation, the two guards snapping into a salute as the heavy set commander glared briefly at them as he passed. The pale blue lit room beyond was eerily empty and quiet, considering the rapidly changing situation on the frontlines the place should have been bustling. Display screens still showed three dimensional images of Drazi space while the central table had a hologram of Fendamir hovering above it.

One other person occupied the room, seated at the head of the table with arms folded waiting for Stro'kath. He was easily identified as Defence Minister Kalsha, the Warleaders bitterest political opponent.

"You summoned me?" Stro'kath accused. "Does this mean you have accepted my challenge?"

"I am not here to fight you Stro'kath." Kalsha said. "Sit down."

The Warleader did not move.

"Just sit down!" Kalsha growled. "The Dilgar are moving and we don't have time for these games."

"What you call games I call honour." Stro'kath said as he took a chair none the less.

"By now you are aware General Yanli has fallen in battle?" Kalsha asked.

"Yes, I heard the party from my room." The other Drazi grinned thinly.

"Yanli was a good friend of mine Warleader." Kalsha cautioned. "His death is a loss to us all."

"Good friends do not win wars, good Generals do." Stro'kath returned. "Yanli was not a leader of ships, he met an appropriate end."

Kalsha looked like he was going to argue but ultimately backed down. "This is beside the point. With Yanli's death we find ourselves short one General Officer."

Stro'kath smiled. "Are you reinstating me?"

"Our government has… overruled my decision as Defence Minister to remove you."

Stro'kath bellowed out a laugh. "They pulled rank on you!"

"I stand by my decision!" Kalsha snarled. "You are not the man to lead this fleet!"

"Why? Because victory means I'll have your job next?" Stro'kath wondered "You put ambition before the good of all Drazi, you make my stomach churn! When the front is stabilised you and I will have to settle this."

"I look forward to it." Kalsha retorted. "But until then, you are reinstated. You will take the reserves and reinforce Fendamir before it is attacked."

"No." Stro'kath said. "I will not."

Kalsha glared at him in utter fury. "What?"

"I will take command, but will not go to Fendamir."

"Those are your orders, if you wish to disobey them then you will be relieved, imprisoned and I will take your fleet to battle."

Stro'kath smiled. "You'd like that wouldn't you? But no. Firstly I am Warleader of the Freehold, I give orders, not receive them. Second, the War cabinet couldn't formulate strategy if it had a diagram and large print letters. And thirdly, the Dilgar aren't going for Fendamir."

"That is where you are wrong." Kalsha announced. "They have been scouting our defences there for a week."

"Know your enemy." Stro'kath countered. "Dilgar value surprise, a lengthy scouting mission telegraphs their intentions and lets us prepare. They only send in scouts an hour before they attack, trusting in the initiative of their commanders to win battles, not intricate plans."

"The ships belong to Dar'sen's fleet. He is their foremost Drazi fighter, he will be entrusted with the main attack."

"They want you to think that." Stro'kath shook his head. "But it is a trick, they show us what we fear and expect most, they draw us into a trap using our own terror as bait. Fendamir is too obvious, it is a diversion."

"How are you so sure?"

"Deathwalker." Stro'kath said.

"She's nowhere near here."

"Wrong again."

"She is fighting the other League powers."

"If you bothered reading intelligence reports from other fronts you would know the Narn invaders at Hilak have been wiped out. Do you know ho is responsible?"

"She can't be!"

"Deathwalker is here." Stro'kath snarled in anticipation. "We find her, we find the main offensive."

"The attack will come from Hilak then?"

"Unlikely, she seems to have moved." The Warleader considered. "It will be Latig."

"Then she is a fool, Latig is our staging area for the new offensive." Kalsha smiled. "We have half the fleet under Indriz there, and the whole Hurr Navy! She will be massacred!"

"Don't count on it." Stro'kath warned. "She is a deadly enemy, subtle and brilliant. Don't trust numbers to beat her, they did not help her other victims."

"But we have the edge now!" Kalsh defended. "Our offensive is about to begin!"

"Are you paying attention?" Stro'kath snapped. "The Dilgar are already on the offensive! We've lost our window of opportunity! We must prepare to meet them in our own space!"

"But surely Fendamir…"

"Even a fool of your calibre would not advance with a knife at your back would you?" Stro'kath demanded angrily. "The Dilgar have seen the force at Latig, do you imagine they forgot? Do you imagine they will attack our centre with so huge a fleet poised to sink into their flanks? Our surprise is gone! They will hit that fleet with as much force as they can muster, smash it, and then attack our heartlands from Latig!"

"That cannot be done, our fleet at Latig is too powerful for them."

"This is why I am assuming overall command." Stro'gath said harshly. "War is the province of warriors, not mewling cattle like you!"

Kalsha exploded out of his chair. "I will see you dead!"

In return Stro'kath merely smiled slightly. "You may yet see us all dead. The fleet Deathwalker commands is the finest in the Galaxy with over a year of intense combat experience. She likely has the Home Fleet with her now, giving her more ships than she has ever commanded. You know how effective she is with one fleet, now she has two. I give us perhaps a twenty percent chance of survival in a straight fight."

"What? You are the Warleader and you tell me we can't win?"

"Not in a straight fight." Stro'kath confirmed. "Of course I have no intention of fighting fair."

"We need to deploy to Latig."

"Not everything, keep the Fendamir garrison where it is."

"But Jha'dur…"

"Is our main threat, but if we strip Fendamir I guarantee you Dar'sen will exploit it. Then we will have a Strike fleet in our rear lines and everyone dies."

"So what do you do?"

"Give me my fleet, it is in reserve correct?"

"Yes." Kalsha nodded.

"I will take the survivors from Tithalis too, Yanli's ships." Stro'kath said. Iif they lasted this long they have skill, and their current senior officer had enough sense to execute that mad man you left in charge."

Kalsha seethed a little but held his tongue.

"Get orders to Indriz, tell her to hold her ground but be prepared to fall back." Stro'kath spoke confidently. "It is a holding action, we can't stop that fleet at Latig."

"Where do we stop them?"

"Deskartalos, it is their obvious objective." Stro'kath answered. "Tell Indriz to withdraw if she loses more than a quarter of her fleet."

"What about the Hurr?"

"They're all dead." Stro'kath shrugged. "We can't help them, but they will distract the Dilgar enough for us to do our job."

"And where will you be?" Kalsha asked.

"Where else?" Stro'kath grinned. "Leading my fleet and being on hand to make quick decisions."

"What is your plan?"

"I don't have one, I'll make it up as I go along." The Warleader answered. "What I have is an objective and the resources to achieve it. That is enough."

"You need a plan."

"The Dilgar do not use plans, it seems to work for them." Stro'kath answered. "My ships know what they need to do, it does not take a lifetime of service to know how to kill someone."

"Well you are the Warleader."

"Never forget it." Stro'kath said with a steely tone. "I will decide how to achieve the objective when I arrive and see the full extent of the situation for myself. But what I do know right now is that the decisive battle will be at Deskartalos."

"And the Hurr?" Kalsha questioned. "If the Dilgar choose to attack them first, do we help?"

"Help, no." Stro'kath felt a grin coming on. "Exploit, yes."

"Then there is nothing more to be said. You have your ships and I doubt anyone will now question you."

"I better leave then." Stro'kath stood, the chair squeaking on the floor. "But Kalsha, once the front is stabilised you and I will settle this dispute. I will have the satisfaction of spilling your blood."

The Warleader spun and purposefully strode out of the door, leaving an apprehensive Kalsha in his wake.

Latig

Combined Drazi/Hurr Battlefleet

Over the last two days more and more ships had begun filling in the system, a healthy mix of Hurr warships and Drazi cruisers. Both sides had laid aside their antipathy towards each other and had united in the common cause of survival. And greed.

The alliance between Hurr and Drazi was not based on friendship or mutual respect but on necessity. It was not an inspiring union of like minded creatures sharing the same viewpoint but a means to an end for both parties, and each side was quite prepared to stab each other in the back when the time was right.

However that time was not now and a greater threat faced them, that of a renewed Dilgar offensive possibly commanded by the Deathwalker in the reviled flesh.

News had already filtered through of atrocities on Hilak on the other side of Drazi space and probing attacks on Fendamir. Whatever was die to happen it would happen soon and the anticipation was palpable. The Drazi thirsted for battle, a glowing eagerness to inflict death and pain on the Dilgar burning bright in their chests. For the Hurr it was a cooler situation, an opportunity to better themselves at the expense of others. In either case both halves of the fleet were prepared to fight intensely in the coming days.

Superficially the Hurr were human like in appearance and seemed to have followed some of Earth's principles when building their warships. They were slow ships, blocky in style and armed with simple weapons. Unfortunately at that point the resemblance ends, while the EA warships are vast heavily armoured engines of destruction the Hurr vessels are small, poorly built and not renowned for their combat record.

As a race the Hurr were quite new to the Galactic scene, with a small empire they could not call upon the vast resources of the Earth Alliance and did not have the lengthy history of intensive warfare which had shaped human military design. While a fairly violent race the Hurr nations had developed at different rates unlike Earth where the major nations were rarely more than a few years apart in terms of technology.

It had meant that when war came the most advanced Hurr faction had quite handily won its battles and over a brief time established a global power base without the centuries of to and fro experienced on Earth or Omelos that had bred such canny and determined warriors.

When the Hurr did finally branch out with a mind to conquering nearby races on other worlds with their starships they began to realise that they were a small fish swimming with sharks. They first expanded coreward and ran into the ancient Tal'Kona'Sha race. Nobody had ever seen a member of this species, not even the Minbari. They were hundreds of thousands of years old, a middle race in galactic terms and more than capable of defending their territory.

After one skirmish the Hurr fled back to their homeworld Androma.

Undeterred but cautios they tried other direction, clashing with the Drazi and the Grome who proved equally stubborn but with weaker technology. It was however enough to thwart a Hurr invasion leaving the young race with a single colony beside their homeworld.

The Hurr were fuming in their frustration. They considered themselves conquerors, overlords in a galaxy of unworthy species. They considered it their destiny to rule and would aggressively pursue that goal. Yet all around them the other races not only refused to bow but promptly ignored the Hurr, considering them little more than a blustering joke.

It was more than Hurr pride could take, but with such weak ships even in large numbers they were powerless. Where they could have been masters they were reduced to Jesters.

Then the Dilgar made their move, and suddenly the balance of power was turned upside down. The big League powers went from intimidating well armed empires to a scraping of ships overnight. So thoroughly were the League fleets defeated that suddenly the Hurr fleets began to look rather formidable. While still weakly armed they now significantly outnumbered the war ravaged main League powers. An opportunity for conquest presented itself.

While the Hurr Republic government began to see their dreams of a Hurr dominated League begin to have more than a ghost of a chance of coming to fruition there was one problem. That was the Dilgar war fleet.

The League was gutted and ripe for plucking, but the Dilgar had already claimed it and to have a chance of expanding their sphere of influence the Hurr would have to beat the Warmasters. There was also the Drazi, who despite a year of warfare were still rather powerful.

The solution was obvious, let the Drazi and Dilgar bleed each other dry in a grand battle, then mop up what was left of either side. Simple, elegant and brilliant. The plan was immediately accepted and an alliance of convenience proposed.

Naturally the Drazi sought to use the Hurr in the same way, to expend their numbers to save Drazi ships from attacks. The Hurr would not be playing along. While the Drazi believed they had command the Hurr senior officer, Admiral Tak, would not be forming a living shield for his erstwhile allies.

Tak was a confident man, he firmly believed that numbers and warrior spirit would compensate for his lack of technological advancement, after all the Dilgar were fairly primitive and had brought slaughter to powers hundreds of years more advanced. He admired the Dilgar example, the victory of spirit over odds, of courage and determination over technology. He also realised that he would soon be facing that instrument of pure warfare and he would be expected to win.

In an equal battle he knew he wasn't going to win, as a realist he could see the Dilgar would do to him what they had done to everyone else. But this was not an even battle, with the Drazi on his side and the Strike fleets engaging Fendamir the only thing between the Hurr and destiny were some weakly crewed second line warships. Easy kills.

By the time he was done the Strike fleets and Fendamir would be in ruins and the Hurr would be the sole surviving military power this side of the Vree homeworld. It was going to be glorious.

"Admiral, I have Hyperspace anomalies." A voice reported, sounding tinny as it echoed slightly on the bare metal interior of the bridge. The Hurr ships had no soundproofing or even cushions to prevent scrapes and bruises in the zero gravity environment the crew endured. They were built quickly and cheaply with minimal comforts to keep costs low and allow for larger production runs.

"Where?"

"Far side of Latig, incoming jump points."

Tak accepted the report with growing anger, he had anticipated some sort of spoiling attack from the Dilgar to delay the offensive, but secretly had wished to launch his own attack first.

"How many Lieutenant?"

"Sir, a lot."

Tak frowned. "How many? There aren't supposed to be any major forces beyond Fendamir."

"With respect Admiral, I think somebody got that wrong."

Away from the combined fleet the first Dilgar scouts rushed through their blue jump points and fanned out, their ion engines burning brightly as they fanned out and performed intense scans of the area. Less than thirty seconds later they signalled the all clear and moved to the edges of the designated convergence point to maintain their watch on the distant enemy fleet.

In sequence the main body of the Dilar force began arriving in methodical waves, destroyers and frigates first followed by the main heavy warships and finally the support and ELINT vessels used for communication and intelligence gathering. The whole Dilgar force transited in less than two minutes, a remarkable speed for so many ships.

"Sensors report two very large Dilgar formations." The sensor Lieutenant warned apprehensively. "Working to identify."

"Sound combat stations throughout the fleet." Tak ordered. "Power up all gun batteries and deploy fighters."

"Message from General Indriz, she orders all ships to standby for further orders."

"What further orders?" Tak scoffed. "Either we run or fight!"

"Sir I have an ID on the fleets, one is the Dilgar Home Fleet, the other is First Strike Fleet."

In an absent moment he wondered how many other commanding officers had heard that report before their deaths. The rumours had been true after all, Deathwalker had come and brough two of the finest collections of ships and crews in the galaxy with her. The odds of victory were plummeting with every new piece of information.

"Inform Indriz we are facing Warmaster Jha'dur." Tak said. "Then assume defensive posture."

"Understood sir." His aide Commodore Rokap nodded. "We won't be attacking?"

"Against Deathwalker? We'll never get a chance. She'll be here before we get speed up. No, this going to be defensive action. Array for action, as soon as the Dilgar enter range we'll accelerate to attack speed and try to avoid their initial volleys."

"Aye sir."

"This is not going to be pleasant." Tak guessed, his images of glorious victory misting other with the harsh reality of his situation.

Dilgar First Strike Fleet.

Jha'dur was still rubbing her hands on a towel when she entered her Dreadnoughts bridge, the crew already busy plotting the deployment to her standing orders. With satisfaction she took her seat in the middle of the room, settled into the slightly red tinted dull light and counted to five. By the time she reached three Captain An'jash had a report scrolling up onto her commanders display station.

"All vessels have deployed in formation Warmaster." An'jash summarized. "No movement from the enemy."

"How long from initial hyperspace transition to full deployment?"

"Four minutes eight seconds Warmaster."

Jha'dur nodded in approval. "Excellent Captain, a most efficient deployment. Note my compliments in the fleet log."

"Yes Ma'am." An'jash confirmed. "The enemy fleet does outnumber us by some thirty percent, however all vessels are of a small scale, none larger than a heavy destroyer or scout cruiser."

"We will concentrate our attack, overwhelm one section at a time and deny them the chance to use their numerical advantage."

The Warmaster carefully observed the enemy details being constantly updated across the various bridge displays. "The Hurr and Drazi are deployed separately."

"Yes Warmaster, with the Hurr on the left near the planet."

"And closer to the gate." She mused. "Intelligence reports General Indriz is located here commanding Drazi assets, can you find her ship?"

"I think so Warmaster, deployed centrally in the Drazi formation."

"Then that confirms it." Jha'dur said. "A cautious deployment, Stro'kath would be nearer the front. She is timid for a Drazi, defensive. We will focus the attack on her exclusively, smash the Drazi fleet with as much force as we can muster and break her nerve, make her run. Then we'll deal with the Hurr."

She screwed up the towel, once white and now moist with red blood.

"Lets make this fast Captain, I was in the middle of examining Narn brain tissue and would like to return while my subject is still fresh, refrigeration may have an affect on the nerve impulses."

"We are in attack formation Warmaster, focusing on Drazi lines."

"Execute."

The two masses of Dilgar ships moved in unison, changing their orientation slightly so they would be hitting the Drazi from different directions. Missile ships began their long range spoiling barrage while the aggressive destroyer and frigate commanders surged ahead to sweep away the skirmishing light ships between the two main bodies.

For the Dilgar it was an old dance, its steps as familiar to them as their names and its practiced execution a matter of pride. By this time it wasn't just enough to deploy appropriately for battle in a way to out manoeuvre the enemy but the Dilgar officers now sought to array in parade perfect formation. They already knew the enemy couldn't respond properly to the coming attack so they instead challenged themselves with how to look good while inflicting death.

There was a healthy competition among Pentacans, and while completely unofficial the best deployed unit that retained perfect spacing and pure synchronisation of movement received praise and recognition from the fleet. Recently the commanding Warmaster had begun awarding delicacies to the successful crews and sometimes assigning them more prestigious deployments in the fleet.

They had turned war into a competitive sport, a game where losing didn't really cross the minds of the average officer or crew member. Fed on a diet of nationalism and xenophobia since birth the Dilgar were raised to see themselves as the Master Race in a very real and literal sense.

During the war that image of importance had expanded wildly as the propaganda machine began churning out its message continually. The victories over the League further fuelled the air of infallibility surrounding the military as stories of battles against the odds served to inspire the feelings of superiority.

The average Dilgar believed the Dilgar race could not lose, and while individuals may die the Imperium would endure eternally, overcoming all who stood in its path. It created a soldier who was so direct in thought and pure in belief that he could not be reasoned with, would never show mercy or fear, would never surrender and would obey any order no matter how grotesque without question or complaint.

The Warmasters were above such propaganda of course, the most dangerous thing to the Imperium was a leader who bought his own hype and so even the less forward members of the council still knew exactly where they and the Dilgar stood. Gar'shan surveyed every report with the cold detachment he had built as the most successful Dilgar intelligence chief in history, and even though his health kept him almost entirely in his quarters now he was still a constant hand guiding Grand Strategy for the war and ensuring the best assets were in the right place.

But even among the senior echelons of the Dilgar there was a growing sense of invincibility, Officers in the Battle commands like Battle Captains and Battle Masters had begun to believe no power could stop them and that a war with the Centauri would end in victory. Even some of the lesser War command officers believed the Dilgar were unstoppable even though they must be aware of the lengthy supply lines and serious overstretch on the crews.

Normally the active crews were cycled through either the Home Fleet or Guard fleets for some rest and recuperation after two months active duty, but with those fleets now actively deployed there was no chance for rest and it was only fanatacism and belief in self superiority which kept the fleets fighting. That and the cold discipline instilled by the senior officers of the Imperium.

Jha'dur knew the role she played in the war was more than practical, while her strategy and tactics won battles and her training methods and researched made the Dilgar war machine the engine of death it was there was a symbolic role too. She had a carefully cultivated image, something she worked astutely to maintain and propogate in public.

Jha'dur's fleet was the pride of the Dilgar, fearless, relentless, hard as steel and most important of all victorious against all opponents. She had already seen the benefits of this reputation in the League, some forces hesitated when faced by her giving Jha'dur an opportunity to exploit. Others were so hateful of her they attacked immediately often charging right into a carefully planned trap. She prided herself on being able to predict how a given race would react, in either fear or hate, and plan accordingly. With the now efficient intelligence chief gathering data on individual commanders she could now claim to know how an enemy commander would react to, an ability to plan an enemies battle tactics before even the enemy commander himself.

Such a reputation had a profound effect on the Dilgar themselves, especially in the various fleets of the Imperium. Her own Strike Fleet was proud beyond words of its commander and worked hard to live up to the reputation it had built. Assignment to First Strike was the pinnacle of fleet service and during the war it had achieved a prestige beyond even the Home Fleet.

Not only did it make her fleet a weapon of unparalleled precision and determination but it had a knock on effect across the whole Navy as every ship tried to hold to those high standards in the hope of being noticed by Jha'dur and selected for service under her command. The amount of reverence for her could not be underestimated and her popularity among the people of the Imperium had made it inevitable she would one day be the leader of the Dilgar.

Jha'dur knew she served this useful morale function and exploited it, using her charisma to motivate allies and her military record to intimidate opponents. As a final layer of insurance was her experiments on living beings, something which added a black shadow of terror to her presence both in the League and the fleet. She was loved by most Dilgar, hated by some, but feared by all. She couldn't ask for anything more.

She was the Avatar of Dilgar kind, and as they strove to be like her so she strove to fulfil the ideals of Dilgar society. Intelligent, courageous, remorseless and ruthless. She was a Goddess of War and instrument of conquest, renowned as the perfect Dilgar. But of course she knew she wasn't. That title would belong to Ari'shan, youngest son of the Supreme Warmaster who was just as tactically skilled and intelligent but tempered that with chivalry and a code of honour. Something Jha'dur had long abandoned.

Her people faced extinction and to survive that they needed conquest, they needed to win time and again. To do that they had to be merciless and cold blooded, they needed to kill until the sky wept blood and the land was carpeted in bones. Survival was their most primal instinct, and to live others had to die. Jha'dur was a sign of the times, a simple embodiment of the Dilgar races clawing grip on life at the cost of all else.

Afterwards things could change, would change. One day there would be no one left to fight and the violence she had sowed in the soul of the Imperium would destroy it if not countered. People like Ari'shan would change that and bring about a honourable peace to the Imperium, a legacy to last for all time. But their time was not today, this was a time of blood and steel, of murder and nuclear fire, and creating all of that on behalf of her people was Deathwalker.

Both sides knew what they were facing, some took heart and drew confidence from it, some panicked, others grimly accepted their lot and prepared to fight on regardless. The Drazi had been there before, General Indriz presided over a Veteran fleet that had seen first hand what the Dilgar could do. They knew Deathwalkers reputation and feared her, but they also knew she was just one person. The rest of the fleet were just Dilgar, well trained and fanatical to be sure but still just mortals. They had been beaten before, they could lose again.

The Drazi fleet respected Indriz as a honourable warrior, her decision to engage the enemy at Tithalis had earned her much respect. Yet she was not venerated in the same way as Jha'dur and in honesty the Drazi did not really believe she could match Deathwalker. The only officer who could do that in Drazi opinion was Stro'kath, widely viewed as an hero of the ancient days reincarnated for this time of dire crisis.

The news that Stro'kath had been reappointed and even now was gathering a fleet for battle gave the Drazi a massive boost of heart, the ships under Indriz knew that even if they fell their comrades would now carry on to victory, they simply had to do their part, fight bravely and then die well.

Faced with the Deathwalker leading two prestigious fleets with a reputation for excellence and cold efficiency in the art of killing large numbers of ships Indriz's command did not hold much hope of survival, but if by their deaths Stro'kath would have tme to form the last great fleet of the Drazi and launch his own attack then it was a noble sacrifice.

The Hurr on the other hand were not motivated to die for the glory of delaying the Dilgar and ensuring ultimate victory, and it was therefore with some relief they saw the bulk of the Dilgar firepower coming to bear on Indriz.

Waves of fighters took defensive station, by this point in the war the Drazi were smart enough to avoid meeting the Dilgar Thorun fighters on even turns, the exceptional craft and bold pilots of the Imperium able to take on and win any League fighter duel with confident ease.

Light ships sheltered with larger vessels, though in practice the Drazi and Hurr had little in the way of large warships. They formed a wall of supporting ships ready to weather the coming storm and try to exact some vengeance in turn. It was a slim hope, but enough for a warrior like a Drazi.

The Dilgar Strike fleet opened the battle with a brief withering fire on the scout elements to slow to pull back, mostly Hurr ships. The blocky vessels provided no challenge for the Dilgar destroyers and were rapidly swept aside, the first Hurr casualties of the war meeting their end with their backs to the enemy. The picquet fighters were even less impressive, a license built copy of the venerable Belt Alliance Delta-V, were torn apart by the Thoruns before they could meaningfully influence the battle.

The main fleet cruised past the scattering of wrecked ships, passing by with no thought for the dead and nothing but contempt for the living. They lined up on the Drazi and closed to optimal firing range.

General Indriz maintained a careful image of peace as she watched the fleet, an image which did not reflect the truth. She was terrified, the size and skill of the Dilgar fleet over awing to her experience.

"Missile batteries." She said quietly, afraid to raise her voice incase her nerves weakened it to a high squeak. "Commence fire, first wave ready to release."

Drazi missile boats began unleashing their cargoes, but at this sort of range most of the missiles were easily stopped by point defences or fighters, only a handful reached their targets in a brief welter of flame. Following the missiles the foremost Drazi ships began to move. With their thin armour and small size the ships would be useless in a line of battle fight, so even in defence the best tactic for the Drazi was to assault.

They made it five hundred miles before the Dilgar returned fire, an alpha strike of laser fire cut into the Drazi ships, cutting them down in bright sprays of fire then followed by the slower moving bolt cannon rounds. Where the lasers killed ships and broke formations the more intense and numerous particle bolts flooded the frontline and hammered the shaken and confused attack wings.

"Second wave, go." Indriz ordered. "Third wave proceed to flank."

She was rather surprised at how calm she was, directing ships into the firestorm and working to buy time. Beside her fleet the Hurr scouts had withdrawn to the main fleet that was so far unengaged.

The second Drazi wave ran into the teeth of Jha'dur's guns and didn't stand a chance, Indriz knew it but sent them anyway. While they died to keep the Dilgar occupied the third wave was looping over the fleet to attack while the Second wave was keeping them distracted.

Unfortunately the Third wave also flew into a firestorm, this time from the Home Fleet. Tor'han was keeping his ships back, covering Jha'dur and watching her flanks. The Drazi ships dove with magnificent courage through the maelstrom, vessels erupting into debris on all sides as the steadfastly made for their targets, every gun they had blazing as they approached Jha'dur's forces. None of them made it close enough to count.

"Comms, get me Admiral Tak." Indriz demanded. "Immediately."

The front of the fleet was a constand flickering wall of light as the heads of the fleets met, the rigid formation and heavy fire of the Dilgar dominating the engagement. Indriz needed to ge tmoving and flank Jha'dur, use her ships to run rings around the Dilgar but with Home Fleet watching the approaches her fleet would still be massacred, it would just be a Battleship of a slightly different colour doing the killing.

"Admiral Tak, what is your condition?"

"General Indriz," The Hurr eventually replied. "We have taken minor losses, so far the Dilgar haven't pressed us."

"My forces are under heavy attack, I need you to advance on the Home Fleet, draw them away and allow my ships to flank Deathwalker."

"You want us to Assault the Home Fleet?"

"At once."

"That's suicide, without support from your forces we'll be massacred!"

"If I break off to support you Jha'dur will tear us to shreds, you are on your own Admiral."

"We can't cover that distance quickly enough, the Dilgar will pick off half the fleet before we even get into range!"

"Then you'll just have to make the surviving half of your fleet fight twice as hard!"

"General, I was not placed in command to throw away the Hurr navy."

"It is the only plan, if you attack Jha'dur Home fleet will kill you anyway. If you sit still the Dilgar will destroy us and then hit you with overwhelming force. Attack now or both our fleets are doomed!"

There was silence.

"Admiral Tak! Engage at once!"

"Very well." He replied with very little enthusiasm. "The Hurr Navy moves to give battle."

"Tie down Home Fleet, let us handle Jha'dur, then we will come to your aid. Indriz out."

Indriz had been wary of the Hurr, while they had deployed a fleet she wasn't too thrilled at the idea of having them watch her back. Tak's reluctance had born out some of those fears, but gradually the tactical displays showed the Hurr redeploying and proceeding to advance towards the enemy.

Ultimately whatever the Hurr truly thought about their gains in this war it was obvious what they now had to lose. They had challenged the Dilgar and couldn't turn away from that, it was either fight and win or run away and die.

Not a dissimilar position to Indriz.

"Wait for the Hurr to start drawing fire." She ordered. "Then we attack in force."

Dilgar Fleet.

Jha'dur could feel the slight shake in the deck as the guns spoke, timing each slight rocking motion with satisfaction as she gauged the effectiveness of the gun crews.

"Warmaster, we have movement from the Hurr." An'jash pointed out calmly.

"Indeed, a little earlier than I expected." The Commander mused with a faint shadow of disappointment. "Still, this is not unexpected. Open a channel to Battlemaster Dal'shan."

An'jash expertly tapped the controls on her station and called up the details for the Supreme Warmasters eldest son. She located his ship, tuned the secure comms system to the appropriate frequency then opened the channel.

"Battlemaster, are your forces prepared."

"Yes My Warmaster." The male responded plainly, utterly businesslike in the furnace of battle.

"Break off your detachment from the main fleet and commence assault, close to point blank and destroy the Hurr." Jha'dur ordered. "Make an example Battlemaster."

"As you wish Warmaster."

She had confidence in Dal'shans abilities, he was the best ship commander in the whole navy and was well suited to the additional responsibility she had given him. Still she couldn't help but feel a little worry as the Dreadnought left home fleet and began gathering its subordinate vessels.

The Drazi fleet was the priority and Jha'dur would be dealing with them personally. To fight them effectively she would need the big warships of both her fleet and the Home Fleet, and while she was confident that she could achieve victory alone it would cost far less lives with both fleets acting in union. However she also could not afford to leave the Hurr unconfronted, and while she considered them more an annoyance than a threat they did have the potential to cause problems while Jha'dur was otherwise engaged with Indriz.

This was where Dal'shan came in. She had assigned him a large number of Destroyers and Frigates from both Dilgar fleets with orders to close in and fight the Hurr at point blank range. While Dal'shans force possessed much less firepower than the main fleets his Destroyers were still superior to the best of the Hurr forces, and in terms of training and discipline far superior.

While he was outnumbered his skill as an officer and the effectiveness of his ships should even the odds letting him tie up the Hurr without significantly weakening the punch of the two Dilgar main fleets and letting Jha'dur reserve her Dreadnoughts and Battlecruisers for fighting the Drazi.

But she still worried.

"Send over half our fighters to support Battlemaster Dal'shan." She ordered. "Hurr fighters are weak but numerous, I want no embarrassments."

"Orders relayed."

"Now, let's move forward to optimum firing position and began picking off these Drazi on our terms. Home fleet will advance with us and maintain cover position on our flanks."

"Warmaster, I'm also picking up Drazi troops on the planet."

"Ignore them." Jha'dur dismissed. "Stay clear of any defence satellites and let the follow up ships deal with them. We have more important things to do then tie ourselves down with garrisons." She grinned slightly. "No matter how fun it is to bomb them from orbit."

Swiftly the green ships of the Dilgar navy changed orientation, some blasting away in one direction, others holding a steady course. Fighters peeled out of the homogenous mass of the main fleets and took up attack positions alongside Dal'shans expedition while the Drazi gathered for a full fleet strength attack.

"All units are clear to fire at will." Jha'dur confirmed. "Lets get this over with, full attack."

The Hurr were not prepared for the intensity of the assault. The leading Frigate groups pierced the Hurr fleet in three locations, each prong of the attack displaying intense and often reckless adherence to orders. The Dilgar warships were engaging up close, in some cases just a few hundred metres away as the small ships fought their way into the midst of their enemies. The Destroyers followed on with the same sort of single minded determination, cleaving apart Hurr vessels and formations with practiced ease while taking little damage themselves.

"Pull the flanks in!" Admiral Tak called across his cramped bridge. "Concentrate all ships on the centre, fire on this Dilgar now!"

With growing concern he registered the changing disposition of his fleet, its forward advance coming to a halt virtually in seconds as the Dilgar countermove came out of seemingly no where. Missile armed Dilgar fighters began shutting down his escort vessels while the capital ships, such as they were, found themselves outgunned and increasingly out fought.

"Enemy forces are inside our fleet perimeter!"

"Pull back the unengaged ships at the front, get them to turn around and attack the Dilgar from behind!" Tak ordered

The Dilgar attack wasn't on a broad front, but a sharp dagger aimed at the heart of the Hurr Navy, namely his own flagship. He could see the red triangles representing enemy ships coming closer and closer to the place his own flagship was deployed.

"Get some more ships here now!" He demanded. "Before the Dilgar split this fleet in two and cut off its head!"

For his part Squadron Leader Ari'shan was finding the experience enjoyable if not truly satisfying. The Hurr had deployed a large number of fighters and it was keeping him very busy, no sooner had he brought down an enemy craft when he found several more jostling for his attention. He looped over an embattled Destroyer, sweeping between the crossfire as it took on three Hurr vessels with half a squadron of triangular Hurr fighters close behind. Ari'shan knew the design to be a copy of a human fighter design, but also that the design itself was a century old and the Hurr were not using their craft in a particularly adept way.

He made a half spin and fired at the nearest target, slicing it in two with his powerful main guns before rolling away from the strobing return fire.

As usual Ari'shan did not deign to use a targeting computer, preferring an old fashioned iron gunsight mounted in front of his cockpit and zeroed for two hundred yards. He fought like the pioneers of aviation in a time before computer targeting and fly by wire when hitting targets was down to individual skill rather than superior electronics. He fought at close range, often close enough to see his enemy behind the clear canopy of the enemy craft and close enough so that a sudden twist or turn by his opponent could seriously threaten Ari'shans life.

He didn't mind of course because he knew he wasn't about to get shot down, not anytime soon anyway. It was a mix of youthful confidence and actual skill that was so far unrivalled in space. He'd survived a few close calls, especially in Cascan space, but he never doubted his own ability to win duels.

But at the same time Ari'shan was no fool, he ran his ECM systems at full to throw off enemy warship point defences and he never flew in a straight line for more than three seconds at a time. He enjoyed a challenge but simply flying back and forth like an invincible king of the sky would get him killed very quickly.

If need be he would use missiles despite looking down on them, and there were even occasions he'd switch on his computer and fire from range though again he hated having to do so. It was simply a case of orders, he had learned the hard way that when a Warmaster orders something then it happens. Fortunately Jha'dur had an understanding and knew how to use Ari'shan in a way that suited them both, exploiting his talents and not offending his sensibilities. Most leaders wouldn't have taken the effort to do that, and it was a side of Jha'dur not often seen.

He burned his retro thrusters and cut his forward velocity, then back flipped just in time to see three Hurr fighters making tight turns to avoid colliding with the Thorun. Ari'shan depressed the trigger and unleashed the four wing mounted Bolt cannons, the condensed energy effortlessly punching through the weak Hurr craft before they had even completed their turns.

With a slight sigh Ari'shan was moving again, finding little to redeem the Hurr fighter forces. They were simplistic, amateur in their tactics and displaying a mix of incompetence and misplaced arrogance. There were lots of them which kept him busy, but truthfully Ari'shan found the engagement empty.

It was a test, but there was no honour in this battle, just an exercise of his skills. He still longed for glorious single combat, to meet an opponent in a decent fighter with the same outlook he shared. He was even willing to disable an opponent in a weak fighter and find a way to give them a Thorun so they could fight on a truly even playing field. He could imagine Jha'dur's reaction to that, but his sense of chivalry demanded an even battle.

He had fought such a duel once before against the Cascor, an epic and entirely fulfilling example of single combat with an ace pilot some months ago. It was a defining moment and the proudest of his life, he'd never felt more alive or sure of his purpose as he did when he fought the Cascan. He had even let the diminutive creature live, saving her from the slow death that awaited her comrades after Jha'dur's victory. One day he hoped to duel that pilot again.

But today it was fighting by the numbers, while the Cascor appreciated the nobility of single combat the Hurr did not and sought to engage the Dilgar two or three to one. Fortunately with the well practiced combat formations and the fact Dilgar pilots expected to be outnumbered in most battles the Hurr were being flayed.

"Knight squadron, respond?" He spoke into the communication panel.

"Knight two here, we are formed up and prepared."

"There is nothing here for us Knights, deploy as standard and support the command ship."

Usually Ari'shans squadron was tasked with seeking out and destroying elite enemy fighter groups, a practical use of such a skilled force from the Warmasters point of view and the true calling of their souls for the pilots. It was an ideal arrangement but surplus to requirements today, the Hurr had nothing that a regular squadron couldn't handle.

"Understood Knight leader, we'll fight like a normal squadron today."

"Unfortunately so." Ari'shan sighed with palpable disappointment. "Never the less we still have a duty, I expect nothing less than perfection in this battle."

"It will be so sir."

"Our enemies may not be worth our skill, but they are still worth our time. Amateur as they are they chose to fight, and that at least deserves a worthy death."

Meanwhile the fighting was growing ever more intense close to the heart of the Hurr fleet. Dilgar ships pressed forward, forcing their way forward through the press of ships which surrounded them. The weak Hurr vessels offered little resistance to Dilgar weapons but for every ship lost more would rush forward to try and take its place. Dal'shans expedionary force were taking a massive toll, especially the Battlemasters personal Dreadnought, and despite weight of numbers the Hurr continued to give ground.

One of the dull angular ships took a heavy particle bolt head on, holing it through the bow. Every weld and seam on the front half of the ship burst open in a knifing jet of flame that sprouted like orange geysers from within the hull. By the time the initial violence had expended itself two ships on either side were suffering the same fate, removed from the battle with a single well placed shot. It was frightening example of Dilgar efficiency, that for all their cruelty and blood lust they were so precise and accurate when the needs of battle demanded it.

Some Dilgar ships were showing signs of damage, with a Destroyer still fighting despite losing half its guns, or a pair of burning frigates ramming a Hurr cruiser to deny it a chance to do more damage. The close ranged plasma weapons proved marginally effective against the Dilgar taking advantage of their relatively fragile hulls, but compared to the Hurr ships the Dilgar vessels were built like tanks.

"Multiple targets locking on." Commander Ese'lan announced sharply.

"Five degrees to port, increase speed ten percent, standby salvo fire." Dal'shan rattled off, already planning his next moves. "Engage targets on our forward quarter, open fire."

The Dreadnought finished its turn and immediately unleashed a vicious close ranged volley, the mix of laser and pulse weaponry pummelling three Hurr vessels that had been trying to engage the heavy ship. Within a few seconds they were burning junk and the warship was already firing on different targets.

Dal'shan was handling the ship like a Destroyer, throwing it into tight turns and off axis manoeuvres that it wasn't really designed for. The helm officer was easily the best in the fleet and had been hand picked months earlier by the Battle master for exactly this type of battle. He had practiced and trained while in reserve, strengthened the Dreadnoughts hull to accept these stresses and conditioned the crew to keep working despite the inevitable high g-forces they would endure.

Those tactics were paying big dividends with Dal'shan's heavy vessel easily keeping pace with the destroyers and frigates of his command, swiping aside any of the far smaller and weaker Hurr ships foolish enough to not try and escape.

Fighters grimly hung in space nearby, Dal'shans brother among them. He smiled widely, no doubt Ari'shan was sulking because there weren't any worthy pilots to fight against. Dal'shan found the attitude amusing some days, but he also held tremendous respect for a man so defiant in his convictions, especially when they were as noble as Ari'shans. Nobility was a rare quality in Dilgar, a thing of the distant past which was a sad truth of the time they lived in.

"The Hurr are still falling back."

"Good, keep up the pressure." Dal'shan approved. "What's the overview?"

"All ships are in formation." Ese'lan confirmed. "Drazi forces are heavily engaged with the First Strike fleet."

Dal'shans battle was more of a side show despite the size of the Hurr force, he took a quick glance beyond his zone of responsibility at the larger battle several hundred thousand miles away. It was a joy to behold, Jha'dur's fleet deployed in a saw tooth formation designed to increase the number of guns they could bring to bear on the Drazi. Indriz was throwing ship after ship into the maelstrom from any angle she could try to find a weakness, but Jha'dur had every approach covered and was inexorably grinding down the Drazi fleet.

"Are we anywhere near the Hurr flagship yet?"

"Within a hundred miles sir, but we can't get a clear shot, too many ships in the way." Ese'lan reported. "And more converging."

"Then we'll have to thin out the herd a bit, concentrate two destroyer Pentacans ahead, let them take on the barrier ships and give us a chance to break through." Dal'shan chuckled. "Then we have some fun."

Admiral Tak on the other hand was in no mood to try duelling with a Dilgar ship mounting five times the firepower of his own little command ship.

"The assault is intensifying ahead!" the sensor officer warned. "More enemy ships are joining the assault!"

"How long until they break through?" Tak asked.

"Minutes sir!"

He could feel sweat gathering on his brow. "Reinforcements?"

"Our back up is being delayed fighting past a Dilgar Frigate screen, they won't get here in time."

Tak exhaled, the massive Dreadnought getting nearer with each second, a red mass of impending doom.

"This battle is over." He announced. "We serve no useful purpose staying."

"Our losses haven't reached beyond a quarter yet sir." His second informed.

"And theirs haven't come anywhere near even that!" Tak countered. "And this isn't even a Strike fleet! Just a collection of escorts! If we can't beat them how do we stop Deathwalker when she is finished with the Drazi?"

"Sir, just to be clear, are you ordering a withdrawal?"

Tak looked again at the rapidly closing Dreadnought. "Yes I am, we're leaving, all ships jump to hyperspace and make for home. Maximum speed."

Dal'shan wasn't incredibly surprised when the Hurr began to withdraw, starting of course with the flagship.

"Another short term victory for self preservation." He observed.

"Every Hurr ship is withdrawing, I'd say back to their homeworld of Androma." Ese'lan noted. "Picking up some furious Drazi signals."

"I bet you are." Dal'shan grinned a little. "We were right, focusing our attack on their commander broke their nerve very fast. He chose to save himself and take his fleet with him instead of sacrificing himself for the mission."

"Hurr losses are less than twenty five percent." Ese'lan read. "Must have shaken them, but hardly fatal."

"We were slowing down, getting bogged down with so many ships against us. Another ten minutes and they could have turned the tide against us." Dal'shan considered quietly. "But by then their Admiral would be dead. Our personality profiles are surprisingly accurate."

"Must be our new intelligence chief, seems he actually knows his job."

"About time someone did." Dal'shan huffed. "Well we still have a battle to fight. Regroup the fleet, inform fleet command of our readiness and then prepare to engage Drazi ships."

General Indriz could not adequately express her feelings regarding the Hurr. Anger didn't cover it, disappointment fell short, genocidal rage only scratched the surface. She watched aghast as the Hurr fleet, faced with a force even they should have been able to beat simply by numbers, turned tail and vanished into hyperspace. She absently knew her mouth was lolling open and it was not an inspiring position for a General to command from, but she simply could not alter her expression. Her facial muscles may as well have been stone, such was the limit of her control.

For a painful moment she was lost, not knowing what to do next. Her support was gone, her own fleet under massive concentrated attack and now more Dilgar ships threatened to flank her. It was not an agreeable position to be in.

"Suspend attacks." She ordered quickly. "Signal recall, prepare jump engines."

"We're going to run too?"

"We don't have a choice." Indriz said. "Without support we're dead. Hurr Cowards!"

"General, we have people on the planet."

"I am aware of that Captain, but it is more important to the Drazi to keep this fleet in fighting order." She sighed. "I can't lose this fleet, we must withdraw to fight another day, hopefully with Stro'kath guiding our battle."

"We are ready General."

"Withdraw by division, Droshalla pity us we've lost the battle."

"We were betrayed." Her Captain spat. "Next time it will just be Drazi fighting."

"It will have to be." Indriz concurred. "There's nobody else left."

"Enemy fleet withdrawing Warmaster, we have the system." Captain An'jash announced with obvious pleasure.

"I'm slightly impressed Indriz recognized how untenable her position was at such an early stage." Jha'dur spoke conversationally. "I'd have preferred to destroy the fleet here and now, but some credit to her, she's smarter than most Drazi."

"Think they are running to Deskartalos Ma'am?"

The Warmaster smiled. "Positive, it's the only place safe enough for them. Well, so they think. Captain Tor'han if you please."

An'jash found the right channel.

"War Captain Tor'han, status?"

"Minimal losses." Jha'dur's former commander stated. "We are formed and ready."

"Excellent, transition to hyperspace at once and pursue General Indriz. Don't let her regroup, don't let her pause. When she arrives at Deskartalos I want you right behind her attacking as soon as you jump out."

"Yes Warmaster."

"She's broken and confused, keep her in that state and it will be an easy victory. I will order Warmaster Dar'sen to bypass his diversionary raids at Fendamir and commence the main attack at Deskartalos in conjunction with you. Both your fleets should arrive simultaneously. Wipe out everything you find."

"With pleasure Warmaster Jha'dur."

"Good, now go, I'll have supplies set up and on their way ready for you the second the battle ends. I will join you at Deskartalos myself when I have finished my duties here."

The channel ended and Jha'dur was already on to the next issue. "Battlemaster Yeg'dra is guarding our supplies, where is he?"

"One day out from here Warmaster."

"Good, he will hold at Latig, guard the supply ships and await our return. Then we will all proceed to Deskartalos for the decisive battle."

"With respect Warmaster," An'jash questioned. "Where are we going?"

Jha'dur chuckled. "The Hurr."

"But they are not much of a threat to us."

"No, but they did challenge me and I need to make an example. We will follow them home, destroy their fleet and bomb their world. It should take us two days at most, and the majority of that will be travelling."

"Then we return and head for Deskartalos?"

"Precisely Captain, after resupplying with Yeg'dra we will arrive fresh and fully armed ready to turn the tide of the battle firmly in our favour. Though I wouldn't be surprised if Dar'sen wins without our help."

"And then on to Zhabar?"

"Eventually." Jha'dur nodded. "Though I think we will return to the rimward advance and let Dar'sen finish the Drazi, he has certainly earned the glory that will come from such a conquest."

"May I speak freely Warmaster?"

"Always."

"I think I'll be happier back on the rimward front, things are too static here, fighting over the same systems again and again."

"It was policy." Jha'dur shrugged. "We contain the Drazi and push for the rim. Unfortunately certain elements of the council underestimated how dangerous the Drazi could be." She smiled. "Fortunately those elements are no longer part of policy making."

"Our latest reports say the Second Strike fleet is at the Markab border."

"My Brother has out done himself, he has made all Omelos proud."

"It is a great achievement." An'jash agreed. "But what next? Do we invade Markab?"

She shook her head. "I'd prefer not to, it is an unnecessary risk."

"The humans?"

"Partially." Jha'dur confirmed. "They issued an ultimatum, that an attack on Markab would draw an Earth response. I'm not sure I believe them but I'd prefer not to take the chance. Does us no good to annoy races we don't intend to conquer soon."

"I remember that human ship at Tirrith, made a mess of one of our scout forces." An'jash commented. "I'd hate to fight a fleet of them."

"That wasn't even their best ship." Jha'dur relayed. "They have at least two superior designs. Though how many and how they deploy them are a closely guarded secret."

"It would not be enjoyable to find out first hand."

"I suspect not. Still my agent on Earth has been feeding me a steady stream of information. Earth is not ready for war, it would take them months to mobilise so even if we did hit Markab by the time they had a fleet together we would be established, dug in and heavily fortified. Plus there would be no Markab left to liberate by then."

"With respect, are you sure of this source?"

"Dar'ro is the best undercover agent I have ever met, he is never wrong, never incomplete, he never guesses. The information is accurate and I trust it fully. The human Military may want to fight us, but they just don't have the means." She paused. "Still, I will advocate bypassing Markab space and attacking the Vree. Just to be sure."

"A wise precaution Warmaster."

Jha'dur nodded. "Sometimes it pays not to take a chance. Activate jump engines, set your course for Androma. We have some business to conclude."

As the ship rumbled into life Jha'dur found herself considering humanity for the ten thousandth time. There was still a great deal she didn't know about them and that troubled her. With so much information on the galaxy net it should have been easy, but while she had read volumes about Earths past its current attitudes and views on the galaxy were becoming hard to predict. That unpredictability could be disastrous if the Dilgar pushed too far too soon.

Best just to leave Earth alone, she decided, and not stir the sleeping Lion.

Hong Kong

Earth

November 1st, 2231

For an autumnal day it was surprisingly clear and pleasant over the rolling waters of the harbour. There was barely a cloud hanging in the sky and the previous days rain was just a long distant memory. All around the city thrummed with traders, tourists and sharply suited financiers scuttling back and forth among the cramped streets of the old city and the expansive walkways of the various new mega scrapers and constructions.

Hong Kong was never quiet, it never slept or rested but instead beat each second of the day with energy and activity. There was always some office open, some bar or club turning away drunken revellers, some enterprising market trader trying to impart some oriental wisdom or medicine on a tourist or other likely mark. It was among the busiest cities on Earth, indeed in the whole galaxy, and in the past it would have been the most likely place to find an alien.

There were still some off worlders in Hong Kong, though those were mostly ex-patriots who had settle don Earth now. The visitors to Earth had been quite rare in previous years but since the war tourism from the League had vanished, and no refugees progressed beyond the camps on Eridani where they were sheltered.

Hong Kong had grown massively since its founding, it had been turned into a major final centre early in its history by the old British Empire and when China resumed control of the island made every effort to keep up that reputation. With a surprisingly open and hands free policy Hong Kong continued to expand both in terms of wealth and population.

The mountains formed a natural barrier to expansion for the main city itself, the stunning contrast of glistening white towers reaching up to the tops of lush green mountains one of the cities most remarkable vistas. It was decided to expand seaward instead with the Chinese government approving the construction of artificial islands on the edges of the harbour to be used for new tower blocks and offices.

World War Three left Hong Kong mostly untouched physically despite the terrific damage done to China itself. The city had been protected by Western troops and for a while was held by the west until China rightly reclaimed it. While no bombs had fallen the economic fall out of the war caused a massive recession, one that only really corrected itself with the official forming of the Earth Alliance and China's later acceptance of the new World Government.

Since then Hong Kong had experienced massive growth with several artificial islands springing up and within a decade finding themselves populated and covered in huge buildings. Like reeds from a lake the massive mega scrapers rose up to the clouds, each linked to each other and the old city by a network of bridges and walkways stretching over the harbour in a silver and white web. It was a truly astonishing sight to behold for the first time, a humbling example of engineering on a gigantic scale and even the old residents sometimes had to just stop and stare.

After first contact and the increase in technology the city had expanded yet further, mostly upwards, with larger and newer buildings. New York had the worlds biggest building, and Tokyo had the most, but Hong Kong had the most Mega scrapers per square mile giving a busy appearance from the sea, almost crowded like a thick forest of redwoods.

Recently Hong Kong had become famous as the home of Earth's planetary Stock Exchange and the Headquarters of half a dozen major banks and insurers operating on a stellar level. One of the newest mega scrapers also housed the head offices of Universal Terraform, Earth's biggest Jump gate contractor.

It was all these things to Jenny Sakai plus one more, it was home. Her family was at least in part native to Hong Kong, though if she looked far enough back into her ancestry she could pick influences from across the world. She had Chinese blood, a dash of Korean, a good helping of Japanese on her fathers side and a healthy measure of English. It served to give her a look which was hard to place, clearly from South East Asia but with enough western European heritage to keep her features sharper than would be expected and a few tones paler.

When she was younger she'd been called a mongrel and it wasn't pleasant, but in later years she had not only embraced her wide ranging ancestry but become proud of it. For all those people to have met each other in her family history, to have travelled so far and through some unlikely chance had kids, it spoke to her of adventure, that somewhere deep in her blood was the need to explore, and to risk and to go somewhere never seen before.

She knew it wasn't just her, that her sister had that same desire before she settled down with a kid, a marriage which was over fast but which did at least produce an angelic daughter. Jenny had spent time with little Catherine Sakai on this trip home and could already see that Sakai family adventurous spirit in her as the child came down from the mountains caked in mud.

She had promised to take Catherine to meet her Grandmother on Mars one day soon and show her the family business and their cargo ships. She naturally hadn't gone into detail about her own life and job.

And it was in part why she was stood on the walkway now, admiring the blue sky and the unusually clear harbour waters beneath her. She was leaning on one of the uncovered walkways between skyscrapers about half a mile out from the harbour looking towards the old city. It was quite low down so didn't suffer from the strong winds and icy temperatures higher up forcing the more lofty walkways to be covered and heated, she was just a few hundred feet above the water, high enough to watch freighters sail underneath but not much else.

She pulled her jacket a little tighter as the stiff sea breeze brought a chill to her back and checked her watch. It was just passing nine in the morning which made her contact late. The very second she put her arm down she noticed from the corner of her eye the male figure step onto the bridge and make his way toward her.

"For a moment there I thought you were going to get lost." She smiled slightly.

"For a moment there I was." Paul Calendar replied slightly stiffly. "Damn that's a view."

"Everytime you look at it you find something new." She gestured at the old city. "You can live next to it all your life and you never learn everything about it."

"Good." Paul said. "What's life without a little surprise and adventure?"

She continued smiling. "Glad you came back."

"A thousand Dilgar ships tried to convince me otherwise, but they were never good company."

"Well that's the truth." Jenny nodded. "So Bestine is gone?"

"They didn't have a hope in hell." Paul said bitterly. "The whole thing was done in less than an hour."

"One more world for the Dilgar Empire." Jenny stated. "And one less potential ally for us, this brings the Dilgar right up to the Markab border now."

"The line we told them not to cross." Paul remembered. "So this is break point, will they stop or won't they?"

"That's the question everyone is asking, well everyone in power anyway." Jenny said. "My boss has almost all our assets reading the Dilgar orders we're intercepting looking for anything, any clue as to their intentions."

"Anything?"

"Enough to be worried." Jenny answered. "We've seen a lot of supplies moving this way, fuel, food and the like. They aren't done yet and base don the build up we estimate either a prolonged campaign for one fleet or a short month long campaign for two Strike fleets."

"Jha'dur's coming back?"

"That's our guess, though not for at least a month and a half, she's busy with the Drazi. Based on our intercepts the Dilgar are winning."

"That's turning into an old tune." Paul grunted. "One day someone better show those guys a real defeat."

"Someone will." Jenny confirmed.

Paul glanced across at her. "So the President is ready to step up and take a stand?"

"Well nothing concrete, but the Director thinks so. If they cross into Markab space it'll be war."

Paul nodded. "Can we win?"

"We don't have a choice. We can't surrender, can't sue for peace if we get it wrong, not with the Dilgar." Jenny remarked. "If it comes down to war it will only end when one side or the other is utterly destroyed."

"Better make sure its them then." Paul smiled nervously.

"You remember the Persephone?" Jenny asked quietly.

Paul nodded. "Not something I'll forget for as long as I live."

"That was one ship, just one, light years from home with no support." She spoke softly but with a hard edge. "You saw what she did, she turned a whole Pentacan to scrap and then tried to take on Jha'dur herself.."

"She was fighting to defend refugees from murder." Paul recalled. "It was a hell of a cause to fight for."

"Well this time it won't just be refugees, they'll be fighting for their homes and families." Jenny spoke with a reassured tone, a certainty and understanding. "I can't think of any force I'd rather have defending me."

"No, me neither." Paul confirmed. "But bravery alone doesn't win wars, I hope our Generals have a plan."

"The do, but I don't know what." Jenny laughed. "I'm not that important!"

Paul grinned beside her. "Well that's a crime."

"I'm confident." She replied. "If this does happen we have the means and the will to defend ourselves and our allies."

Below them a small ferry passed under the bridge between towers chugging towards the old city, the venerable green and white ships identical to those that sailed so iconically centuries ago though benefiting from modern engine technology. Scattered across the harbour between powerboats, ferries and cargo ships were traditional Chinese junks, their wooden hulls and triangular sails little changed in a millennium of history.

"Here's a copy of the data recorder." Paul produced a crystal from his pocket. "Full account of the battle at Bestine. You might see some new Dilgar tactics or capabilities."

"Thanks." She took the proffered device. "I can think of a lot of people who will want to watch this."

"There's only the Markab really left now." Paul stated. "After losing so many ships I doubt the Vree will try to intervene again."

"And the Markab aren't very aggressive, they won't launch a unilateral attack on the Dilgar."

"Which means there isn't anyone left to help the League." Paul concluded. "Except maybe us."

"I wouldn't bet much on it." Jenny shook her head. "The administration isn't going to start a war, they'll only fight if provoked."

"But it's obvious the Dilgar will take that step too far."

"They might, but they aren't stupid. We've warned them often enough, lets hope they pay attention."

Paul looked down at the water. "I'm not sure I want them to."

She looked across to him. "You want them to attack us?"

"Well if they don't we'll just sit here and glare, and no one will fight for the League. If they do attack us like you said, this war will only end when we've got ships orbiting Omelos. Which means the League will be free."

Jenny didn't reply immediately.

"You saw what happened in the League." Paul continued quietly. "A war with these people will be bad in the short term, but imagine how many will die this time next year, or in the next ten years? By sitting here we doom a hundred billion people to death."

"And in the end the Dilgar have the biggest Empire in space, with more resources, worlds and infrastructure than the Narn and Centauri combined." Jenny added. "I assure you Paul the people higher up then me know this."

"So why aren't they doing anything?"

"They are, they're just doing it quietly." She turned to him. "You fly cargo, how many of your friends have been moving parts to shipyards?"

Paul shrugged. "A lot."

"That's because we're on a war footing, and we have been for months."

"When did that start?"

"Not long after we got back from Tirrith." Jenny answered. "When we brought back the Persephone data it caused a lot of concern, enough to increse the military budget and our infrastructure. You've seen the works at Proxima right? Those ship yards have three times the capacity they had at the start of the year."

"Really?"

She laughed. "You need to take more jobs in the Alliance instead of running Raider Alley!"

"So we're mass producing ships?"

"Starting March we'll have a Dreadnought rolling off the lines every week, and command thinks they can maintain that for five years if the have to. Not to mention Cruisers, Corvettes, Frigates and all the rest." She informed. "We've been making ten squadrons of brand new Starfuries per day since the lines opened, we've got brand new Tank designs rolling out of the factories, VTOL Gunships, more bombs then we know what to do with. Its all under the Radar, but we've been preparing for a total war on a massive scale."

"Didn't the public notice?"

"Sure they did, but officially we're just replacing old ships and weapons, of course we just haven't decommissioned the old ones yet." Jenny grinned sneakily. "Luckily no one's asked about them."

"Well what about crews?"

"Recruitment is up, and we've set up incentives to keep existing people in the service longer, but if we do go to war finding new personnel is going to be the big challenge. Building a ship is easy, getting an experienced crew to run it is hard."

"I guess if it starts you can draft people?"

"If we have to, yeah. But there will still be a couple of months before the recruits reach the front line. That'll be the real test of this war, the first two or three battles."

"We've never fought a war like this before." Paul realised.

"And the Dilgar have turned it into an art form." Jenny grimaced. "We're going up against the undisputed masters of starship combat for our first real fight."

"Talk about getting thrown in at the deep end." Paul sighed.

"Luckily we've got plenty going for us." Jenny returned. "For one we've got training based on centuries, on millennia of warfare between each other. Tactics change with technology but strategy remains the same. Second our supply lines are right next to our fleets while the Dilgar are light years from home. Thirdly the Dilgar are fighting on half a dozen fronts, even if they send their best fleets we can concentrate more power in one place than they can, and our overall numbers are similar based

on the latest intel."

"And we've got right on our side." Paul said. "Yeah okay, not as good as having big guns, but theres a lot to be said for the cause you fight for."

"There is." She nodded. "And you can't find a more just cause."

She reached into her jacket and produced her own data crystal. "Got a job for you."

Paul smiled. "Really? Very cool."

"It isn't that adventurous, you don't even leave Earth Space."

"What do you need?"

"Someone to go up to Eridani right on the border and deliver some goods to the Free Balosians."

Paul brightened right up. "The Balosians? Excellent, they're good guys, we get on well."

"The Cargo is some heavy plasma weapons to fit onto their ships, give them some extra punch."

"Fantastic, hell I'm almost tempted to do it for free." He paused. "Almost."

"Relax, it's a standard fee." Jenny grinned. "It isn't dangerous but there is a confidentiality clause which pays well. The Government isn't advertising the fact its giving Earth heavy weapons to aliens, even noble ones like the Balosians."

"Which is why you need little old us." Paul nodded. "No problem, we'll pick up the stuff next week?"

"Sounds fine." Jenny said. "And I've been asked to go along."

"Really?" Paul raised an eyebrow, failing to hide his joy at the idea.

"The Director wants me to see what news the Balosians have, they've been raiding Dilgar supply lines for months now with our weapons. We're interested in seeing how they've performed, plus it gives us a better idea of the Dilgar disposition of forces."

"Well I mean, well we're always glad to have you."

"Thanks." She smiled. "Hey, I remember what you said in London, sorry for biting your head off."

"Nah, I had it coming." He dismissed the incident. "I got my words tangled."

"I thought you just wanted me along for my skills."

"Well I do, but not for all that shooting and Kung Fu you do." Paul grinned. "You've got other skills too, I mean nobody keeps Toby in line you do."

Jenny laughed, a genuine and open sound.

"And Jors can't even try and match your cooking." Paul continued jokingly. "Plus you were the only one ever to dust the old ship."

"Glad to see I'm appreciated." She grinned widely.

"But really, I know you've got your job here and what that means. But you've also got family out there. That's what we have on the Race, you go through what we've been through and you end up closer than friends." Paul said solemnly. "Much closer sometimes."

"We had some times." Jenny nodded. "Made my day job seem nice and safe in comparison."

Paul kept smiling. "Well I guess some of those scrapes take some beating."

"You know, I kinda look forward to stepping on the Race again." Jenny admitted. "I dunno, just feels like somewhere I belong."

"I know the feeling." Paul nodded along. "That little bucket is my home, more than that little hut on Mars. More than just engines and bulkheads," he paused. "Now I sound crazy."

"You say that like I didn't already know."

"Touche." Paul gave in. "It's good to fly with you again."

"Likewise." She nodded. "Fresh start?"

"Fresh start." He agreed.

"Well I better go take this to the regional office." Jenny patter her pocket with the Bestine Data. "Thanks for remembering."

"How could I forget?" He asked rhetorically.

"If this does turn into a war, I'm probably going to be pretty busy."

"Then I guess we should savour this next little job then." Paul grinned. "I'll see you in a week."

Jenny nodded with a smile. "I'll be waiting."


	57. Chapter 57

56

Hyperspace

Near Latig

Without a sound Stro'kath watched the small points of light on his display screen moving from left to right, each point representing either a friendly vessel or one of the enemy. At this extended range it was impossible to tell exactly which vessel was which but to his trained eye the Warleader could see two distinct masses, one an evenly spaced symmetrical formation, the other an amorphous mass of confused vessels.

Much as he regretted it, he found it obvious to pick which formation was the enemy.

"There they are." He pointed at the disciplined force. "One of the Dilgar fleets."

"Just one of them sir? Where is the other?"

Stro'kath frowned. "My guess would be they are pursuing the Hurr, as these are pursuing General Indriz."

"Which one belongs to Deathwalker sir?"

"I do not know, and it does not matter, our objective remains unchanged."

He watched the two groups of contacts moving across his screen a few moments longer.

"They're riding the beacon to Deskartalos, they should pass us straight by."

"If they follow standard procedure they will have their sensors focused ahead searching for mines and traps dropped by Indrz."

"Which means they have no idea we are here." Stro'kath confirmed. "And they will not warn their comrades. Wait another five minutes until they are out of range, then we move for Latig."

"Warleader, while this is a fine and aggressive plan, what if Deathwalker is still at Latig?"

Stro'kath chuckled. "Then we will have the fight of our lives Captain, and I welcome it." The old Drazi nodded. "Live or die we will do damage to her fleet, and that damage will prevent her supporting the main battle shaping up at Deskartalos. Our primary objective above all others is to prevent the three Dilgar fleets linking up. No matter the cost we must prevent that."

It was in Strokaths mind the only hope of survival for the Drazi, not necessarily victory as the odds were stacked greatly against them, but a method where they could blunt the Dilgar attack and buy themselves time to rebuild and rearm for a third time.

His reading of the situation had been incredibly accurate, guessing the Dilgar would attack from three separate locations and converge on the key jump nexus of Deskartalos. He would have been completely right had the Hurr not intervened and forced Jha'dur to alter her plan and concentrate at Latig. While the Hurr had proven useless in battle the fact they pulled Jha'dur to Latig and made it a two pronged attack on Deskartalos instead of a three pronged attack greatly aided the Drazi.

It seemed that however unwittingly the Hurr involvement had aided the Drazi after all.

Now Stro'kath had to disrupt that plan, to make the odds a little more even by preventing the Dilgar concentrating all their force in one place. He had to stop at least one of the Dilgar fleets, and while he would have preferred another glorious showdown with Warmaster Dar'sen it was obvious Jha'dur was the greatest threat, yet ironically the easiest fleet to hamstring. And the true master stroke of the plan was that Stro'kath stood to lose very few ships, and if he did it right would be back at Deskartalos for the big finish.

He took a few more moments to make sure the Dilgar fleet had passed by intently chasing Indriz back the way Stro'kath had just travelled. He was quite amazed that the timing had been so neat, a few hours later and he'd have met that chase fleet in hyperspace. A few hours earlier and he'd have arrived at Latig in the midst of a major battle. As it was fate had put him in exactly the right place at the right time. As the old saying went, Fortune favoured the Bold. There were few bolder than Stro'kath and this crisis had made him even more willing to take chances.

The stakes were high, but playing safe wasn't enough to win against an opponent as skilled as the Dilgar Warmasters now closing the noose on the Drazi fleet. His current plan could swing the course of the war, or it could guarantee the defeat of the Freehold before the week was out.

"Lay in course for Latig." He ordered expectantly. "Action stations, we are going in all guns blazing, as a Drazi should." He was grinning widely, he couldn't help himself. "I only wish I could see the looks on their faces when we are done here."

Dilgar Third Line Fleet

Latig.

For Battlemaster Yeg'dra the trappings of success were proving quite welcome. His stalwart defence with fairly limited resources had earned him a measure of respect from the local Warmasters which was the highest form of political currency and had sparked some ambition in the officer. He was well aware of the political wrangles in the Council and knew there were two basic groups. He had chosen to hoist his flag alongside Jha'dur and whatever influence he had he would use to help her party.

While in some ways it was a show of loyalty it also seemed to be common sense on his part. As far as Yeg'dra was concerned the contest was a foregone conclusion, no one was going to outwit Jha'dur and if somebody was fool enough to oppose her openly he wouldn't live long enough to gain anything.

Jha'dur had a lot of popularity, a lot of resources, and a lot of friends in the espionage business, real spies and assassins not the clowns Len'char had appointed. It was obvious to him Jha'dur was going to be the next Supreme Warmaster, though it could have been Dar'sen. Either way he knew which side he would choose to support. It was less about gaining friends in high places and more about avoiding making enemies like Jha'dur.

"Sir, I'm reading energy surges." His sensor officer frowned.

"What type of energy Commander?"

"Sir, looks like jump points, three of them."

"Get a Pentacan out there." Yeg'dra ordered. "Intercept, identify and if they are hostile destroy immediately."

"Aye sir, dispatching a cruiser group."

The Battlemaster was in no mood to take chances, the Drazi were as a race very stupid but recently one or two leaders among them had proven to have an animalistic cunning. It was the only way he could account for the otherwise inexplicable defeats the Dilgar had suffered, his mind did not even conceive the Drazi might actually have a superior plan to the Dilgar.

"Tachyon transmissions sir." The officer warned again. "Encoded signal by the looks of it."

"Informing their superiors of something, but what?" Yeg'dra frowned. "Home Fleet just chased the Drazi out of this system, why would they scout it again?"

"Maybe they are looking for us sir?"

It was a possibility Yeg'dra had not yet considered. His orders were to guard Latig, but primarily to guard the massive supply fleet that had recently arrived from Omelos crammed to the rafters with fuel, food and ammunition for the next step in the offensive, the storming of Deskartalos. There were hundreds of bulk cargo ships in the system gathered in a huge convoy away from any threats. There were enough supplies to sustain the three main combat fleets for at least two months of all out war, by Jha'dur's schedule it would be enough to get them to Zhabar itself, the Drazi Homeworld.

Naturally the Warmasters were aware of exactly how tempting this target was and had kept it well behind the lines until now. Latig was judged safe and secure and so the supply fleet had been brought forward and deployed ready to instantly rearm Jha'dur when she returned from Hurr space. As soon as she was freshly armed she would go to Deskartalos and cause as much trouble as possible.

It was still a risk to bring these ships forward, but a necessary one in the Warmasters eyes balanced out by the time delay in retreating back to Tithalis to resupply before going back to the crucible of battle. The chance of a raid had occurred to the planners and as such they had assigned Yeg'dra to protect the convoy.

It was perhaps a measure of how vital the Warmasters considered these supplies that they had deployed almost eight hundred warships to provide escort. The Third Line fleet was a potent force in its own right and a reserve force used to replace cruiser and destroyer losses among the Strike Fleets. The fleet didn't have any Dreadnoughts or Supercarriers as they remained exclusive to the great fleets of the Imperium but they did have a higher than average compliment of cruisers and those ships alone were notably superior to anything in the Drazi or Hurr arsenals.

As far as Convoy escorts went it was grossly oversized, but considering the entire fate of the Drazi campaign rested on those supply ships it was an entirely justified use of so many prime warships.

"Sir, more jump points!"

"How many more?" Yeg'dra demanded.

"Hundred plus! A full fleet deployment!"

The Battlemaster growled in annoyance, he really hadn't wanted to see any trouble, just get his mission done and go home. "Sound action stations across the fleet! Redeploy for a fleet engagement, order the supply ships to make a run for open space and stay clear of the fighting."

The lighting dimmed to better contrast with the various information displays as the crew tightened their belts and seat restraints. This was not the first battle the crew had fought and with quiet confidence they set up their consoles and began heating up the various batteries.

"Go active on sensors, get me an exact reading." Yeg'dra ordered.

"Confirming Drazi fleet sir." The sensor officer stated. "Working to identify."

"All ships formed and ready, fighters fuelled and standing by."

"Very well." The Battlemaster said in acceptance, taking the path now before him. "Launch fighters and advance the fleet. Standby all batteries for time on target fire." He paused. "And watch out for other forces sneaking around us."

Drazi Cruiser Stormhawk.

"Here they come Warleader." Captain To'mak stated.

"So they do Captain, so they do." Stro'kath observed in satisfaction. "They are advancing in standard formation."

"Confirmed sir, standard line of battle, strong centre and escorts on the flanks."

"Then we will deploy to meet them, standard wedge formation."

"Yes Warleader, deploying the fleet."

The grey swarm twisted and turned in space as they jostled for position, each ship well aware of where it fit into the grand formation. They rapidly assumed a pyramid shape with the point focused at the heart of the Dilgar fleet, an unimaginative but extremely effective formation for breaking a wall of enemy vessels.

The ship right at the point of the pyramid had little chance of survival beyond the first exchange of fire, though occasionally they did make it through a battle. Despite the poor odds of survival it was a much sought after location and it was deemed a tremendous honour to lead the fleet into battle, albeit a short experience.

Stro'kath had been at the point of three fleets and survived each time, but now as Warleader of the Freehold he had to let younger crews take the glory of a glorious death in battle, he was needed alive and as such was ensconced in the heart of the fleet.

"In position sir." To'mak reported.

"Then we go now to battle. All sips know the plan and why we are here." Stro'kath said solemnly. "All ahead full."

With perfect timing the Drazi advanced, the few carriers in the fleet launching their modest cargo of fighters, either a small group of super heavy Serpent fighters or much lighter but more numerous Star Snakes. Neither design was particularly well suited to duelling with Thoruns and the Drazi fighter command had been utterly decimated in every battle of the war, even victorious ones.

"Dilgar ships moving to meet us."

"Of course they are." Stro'kath grinned. "Are they altering formation?"

"No sir."

"Then we are not dealing with a Warmaster." The old Drazi reasoned. "No highly skilled Commander would meet a wedge attack head on."

"They are keeping their fighters close to the parent ships."

"Relying on their guns to defeat us." Stro'kath mused. "He'll fire a full strike with every gun at optimal range, rapidly decelerate or perhaps even reverse and continue to bombard us."

"Making us wade through fire to get to him." To'mak said.

"This leader has skill." Stro'kath allowed. "At least he is no fool, but neither is he a genius. He isn't anticipating us, he doesn't have a back up plan if we do something unexpected. He believes we will charge head long into his guns because that is what Drazi always do. Let him think that."

Stro'kath was well aware of the reputation his people had for impetuousness, that they would rather just launch a frontal attack then an elaborate flanking action because they were too rash and impatient to see it through and tended to take the shortest route to battle.

On the whole that was true, however Stro'kath was not an average Drazi and so great was his charisma and so revered his history that by sheer force of presence he had made his fleet in his image. They were unpredictable, disciplined, controlled and were not dominated by ego or a lust for glory. They fought as a team and obeyed their leader without question even if the orders seemed shameful.

They did this through faith, simple belief that Stro'kath was undefeated and unbowed in battle and that whatever he said or did, somehow it would lead to glory no matter what. So far he had not disappointed.

"Arm weapons." He ordered. "Active sensors, lock onto the leading Dilgar ships."

"Selecting targets." To'mak confirmed. "Gunnery control reports ready."

"Remember the plan fellow warriors." Stro'kath urged. "Remember what rests on us, and the rewards success will bring."

"Thirty seconds to Dilgar firing range."

"They think they know us, they think we Drazi are fools, idiots, morons." The Warleader spat. "Many are, but we are not!"

"Ten seconds."

"Now is your time! Break and evade! Make these Dilgar weep at the depth of their failure!"

With a sudden violent turn the Drazi fleet altered course, exploding outward like a silver firework throwing ships outward in a radial pattern. The pyramid turned into a spoked wheel widening in the same way ripple sin a pool expand, leaving just void in the middle facing the Dilgar ships.

"What the hell?" Yeg'dra managed to spit.

"Enemy ships have broken contact, they're, they're running."

There were a few smiles among the crew at the thought of such an easy victory, but Yeg'dra wasn't about to bite.

"No, this is too perfect. Look at that formation, there is no panic, no fear there."

"They are spreading themselves thin sir, the edges are already beyond our flanks."

Yeg'dra saw it was true and part of him believed the Drazi were fleeing. Every Drazi tactic relied on a mass of ships, each small vessel staying close to others for support and a way to concentrate fire. By radiating out they were leaving large gaps between ships, isolating themselves. It went against all logic and all prior Drazi tactics. It had to be a mistake, a panicked attempt to run.

But still, the precision irked him, he really didn't like this turn of events.

"Deploy fighters, missile armed units go for ships, interceptors cover the strike wings."

"Understood."

"Hold the advance, fire on any target in range and be ready to alter course, I have a bad feeling about this."

The Drazi ships spun through the void a few more seconds, their blazing reactors lighting up the back of the ship like a Firefly while the wing mounted thrusters shimmered white hot as the throttles remained wide open. They were still well out of Dilgar weapons range though the newly released fighters would be upon them quite soon.

Exactly forty two seconds after the fleet broke they altered course, not towards open space and escape, or back toward the fleet, but parallel to it though facing the opposite direction. They had altered from a pyramid now into a ring and resumed their original course, now passing around the tightly packed Dilgar fleet and accelerating away leaving them behind.

"We are still outside enemy range." To'mak reported happily.

"Excellent, now we see if they can catch us." Stro'kath chuckled. "Maximum power to the engines, reform into hunting packs and order all units to fire at will. Primary target is the supply fleet."

"Understood."

"The Dilgar won't like this." The Warleader beamed. "No, they won't like it at all."

With their edge in speed the Drazi fleet leapt forward, abandoning their ring formation once the Dilgar fleet was behind them and breaking up into groups of about ten centred on one jump capable vessel acting as command ship. The Drazi fighters throttled back and turned in preparation to meet the Thoruns hurtling toward them even knowing their chances were virtually non existent. Even though these were not the Elite Strike Fleet Squadrons they were still far superior to the green recruits the Drazi had been forced to field as replacements. It would not be pleasant.

But it did buy some time and it would keep fighters away from the vulnerable rear sections of the Drazi ships letting them focus on engaging the Dilgar freighters instead of using half their number to cover the other half. It Stro'kaths estimation it was a steep price, but one he was willing to pay for victory.

The Drazi quickly closed the gap on the fleeing freighters and began to lock weapons.

Yeg'dra was in a fury, utterly unbelieving of the fact he had been outwitted by a race as obviously stupid as the Drazi. It had to be random chance they altered course at the same time, it had to be, nothing else made sense.

"Hard about dmmit, hard about!" He yelled bitterly. "Flank speed!"

"Sir, we're losing fleet cohesion with this tight turn."

"I don't care! All Pentacans are free to engage at will, just get back there and kill some Drazi!"

"At once Battlemaster."

The rigid Dilgar fleet broke up as faster and more agile ships made the turn first and began pushing for the supply ships. The larger and more useful cruisers were a few seconds behind, but by the time they reached the supply ships it could all be for nothing.

"Order the supply ships to turn around!"

"Are you sure sir, they'll have to decelerate to make the turn. It will let the Drazi catch them faster."

"We can't cover the distance fast enough, they have to come to us and meet half way!" Yeg'dra snapped. "Send the order on my authority."

"As you wish Battlemaster."

Stro'kath hadn't anticipated the order, but when he saw the massive convoy start to slow and turn he couldn't have wished for better.

"Easy targets my warriors." He laughed loudly with the exultation of it all. "Destroy them all, no survivors, leave nothing useable and do it fast!"

The Drazi barrelled in quickly reaching range and engaging. The Dilgar freighters didn't have a chance, they were too huge to evade, too weakly armoured to absorb damage and mounted a small number of anti fighter turrets for self defence. It was an entirely one sided competition and one the Drazi relished.

Yellow particle lances tore through hulls and raked the ships leaving deep cuts in their bays. Sometimes it took three or four passes to destroy a ship gradually stripping away food or consumables until they hit a vital system. Often though the vessel was carrying missiles or fuel and would erupt in a spectacular fireball as the munitions ignited.

Stro'kaths own ship shredded a fuel tanker, and as it exploded it ruptured the hull of two more nearby ships causing a cascade explosion which removed all three vessels with just one shot.

"Well done guns!" He cheerfully banged his hands together. "Lets find another one!"

The first of the Thoruns began to weave in and out of the maelstrom, but while the Drazi ships didn't have much in the way of fighter cover the actual battle space itself was turning into a cauldron of explosions and showering detritus. The Drazi ships could absorb some debris hitting them, the much smaller fighters were not so sturdy.

One Drazi cruiser exploded, its reactor split open by a pair of nuclear missiles from a Thorun squadron. A few seconds later that squadron lost half its number when a fuel ship exploded nearby throwing a sheet of flaming fuel over them, ironically destined for use inside other Thorun fighters.

While Drazi ships ploughed through the thickening debris the fighters had to dodge and weave greatly diminishing their speed and allowing the Drazi to actually start outrunning them. A few more cruisers were lost, a couple to fighters and a handful more to the leading elements of the Dilgar destroyer units surging ahead from Yeg'dra's fleet.

None of it really mattered though, it had taken just one pass, less than three minutes total for the Drazi to attack the convoy. Stro'kaths people had been precise and totally in control, and they had followed their leaders instructions to leave nothing intact behind them.

"Dilgar fleet closing sir." His aide To'mak checked the scans. "They are out of formation, widely dispersed. An easy target to pick apart Warleader."

"Tempting." Stro'kath agreed. "But no, prepare to jump."

"I would greatly like to finish this fleet and complete it's humiliation."

"As would I my friend." The leader allowed. "But time Captain, we must set course for Deskartalos and help the defense there. Even if we have successfully hindered Deathwalker there are still two formidable fleets on the way, more than Indriz and Yanli's old fleets can handle alone."

"I understand and obey Warleader."

"We've done well here, but our truest test is yet to come. We might yet find a warriors end Captain, a brief glow and a cold grave amid the stars. If that is our fate we will accept it."

Stro'kath was grinning widely.

"But we will make it such a battle as to be remembered for all time, even by our enemies. We have evened the odds, but they are still not in our favour and our opponent is both wise and determined."

"Dar'sen."

"Warmaster Dar'sen." Stro'kath honoured his enemy with use of his full title. "A worthy opponent, not so cruel and heartless as Deathwalker but skilled none the less. It will be a great battle."

"Jump engines ready."

"Then set course for Deskartalos, best possible speed." Stro'kath ordered. "Let's not keep destiny waiting."

Behind them Yeg'dra watched the Vortexes open, again stunned that the Drazi would ignore his challenge and vacate the system while armed enemy ships still opposed them. He was physically shaking, not just because he had been outwitted but because he had survived the battle and could see the depth of his failure.

The supply fleet was gone, fuel and munitions still burning in space amid the hollowed out freighters. The Drazi had lost just a handful of ships in the attack and while Yeg'dra's fleet had not lost a single warship that wasn't going to help him.

"Deploy all ships to salvage what we can." He said weakly. "Anything of value, supplies first, surviving crew second."

"Yes Battlemaster."

"Try and signal Warmaster Dar'sen, inform him we have encountered a new Drazi fleet and it is likely heading towards him."

"Understood sir."

"I will be in my quarters." He swallowed hard. "Reporting this situation to Warmaster Jha'dur. I will take full responsibility."

No one on the bridge answered that, but Yeg'dra knew their thoughts. Rather him than them.

"You have the fleet Captain, if you need me I will be drafting a report."

He turned his back on the bridge and did not expect to see it ever again.

Markab

Homeworld of the Markab Theocracy.

Last unengaged major League Nation

"What a place of beauty this is." Ambassador Itala said breathlessly, her eyes wide with a rare excitement. "Look at it Kalika."

"Yes Ambassador, quite remarkable."

Itala shot a sideways glance, knowing from her aides tone that she was distracted. "No Kalika, look at it. Just look at it."

The Abbai aide looked up from her notes, not especially seeing the point of all this. She was deep in the middle of Markab history filling in the blanks the diplomatic service had left. Usually an aide to an Ambassador like Itala had years of training, Kalika had virtually none and had been plucked at the last moment for this mission as she spoke more than one language. Reluctantly she followed Itala's gaze with a heavy expression, gradually coming to see what it was the Ambassador was noticing.

They were stood on the fringe of a forest on a hill looking out over the Markab capitol, a name which translated roughly as 'City of Light' in the Abbai language. It was a surprisingly low town set up in concentric circles with no tall buildings, indeed nothing over two stories existed in the city apart from the object at the centre, a shrine to the Great maker whose dome stood several hundred feet high, quite a wonder to behold.

It was dawn, the sky a mix of deep red and lush dark blue merging into the black of night the further from the sun one looked, a few twinkling stars still holding on in the dark as if they were clinging on waiting to see the sun rise.

The city was on the coast, with the sun due to rise up over the ocean in the distance. Gently the light intensified and over what felt like hours but could not have been more than a couple of minutes the orb broke the surface with gleaming radiance and began to haul itself from the ocean. The sea turned silver, its glass surface catching the early light with a glint that was truly spectacular, reminding Kalika a great deal of day break on her oceanic home of Ssumssha.

The dancing light reached the green shore and touched the clean white city, caressing its buildings until finally reaching the temple. There something truly wonderful happened as the light found itself refracted by hundreds of prisms embedded in the roof and walls of the temple. In a heartbeat the building became the epicentre of a thousand rainbows, multicoloured light leaping away from the temple and into the still dark sky of dawn.

Kalika had seen nothing like it in her life, it was so precise, so simple and yet so breathtakingly beautiful words completely failed her.

"The Markab are a deeply spiritual people." Itala spoke softly. "The believe that there is wonder and Beauty in all of the Great Makers creations, but none more so than light. They find that even something as simple and everyday as sunlight has a complexity and meaning that extends beyond the obvious, and that is why they built their temple over a thousand years ago."

"It's amazing!" Kalika managed.

"Nobody else has ever managed to copy the design, an Abbai artist tried but just could not get the same radiance." The Ambassador informed gently. "It is one of their holiest sites and for good reason, the appreciation of light is ingrained in Markab psyche."

"How so?"

"The Markab believe in the dichotomy of the universe, that there is good and evil, light and dark. They see the eternal battle between light and dark played out everywhere they look, from the cycles of day and night to the to and fro of League politics and likely this war too. They consider themselves denizens of the light, pure in soul and purpose and that their religion makes them strong."

"Our briefings say they have a very strong sense of morality."

"They certainly do." Itala agreed. "They are an old race, older than us and could have wielded great power. Yet they did not develop a powerful fleet, nor did they expand and conquer. Never in their history have they launched a war of aggression, merely wars of defence and never do they fight beyond their borders. Except for one war a thousand years ago, but records from that time are very sketchy as the Yolu also recall."

"That war against the Darkness?"

"Yes, the one the Yolu avoided and the Minbari apparently lead, though our brief contacts with them over the centuries told us nothing."

"So the Markab will fight for a good cause." Kalika reasoned.

"And we must convince them of our cause." Itala confirmed. "They have a strong fleet and exceptionally sturdy crews, a very valuable ally and a force which when combined with the Vree can turn back the Dilgar."

"The Vree lost a lot of ships at Bestine."

"But have many more yet." Itala added. "They are just reluctant to commit them without a clear sign of victory."

"You think the Markab can give them a victory?"

"I think so." Itala watched the sun rise higher, its rays beginning to eclipse the lights of the temple showing why dawn was the best time to observe the spectacle. "But only if we convince them. We have another six hours, read the reports and tell me anything of interest. We absolutely must not fail"

The time passed swiftly and far sooner than Kalika liked Itala came to fetch her.

"Here is all I have on Markab wars." She provided an electronic note pad to Itala. "The focus is on the war against the Darkness, but it's hard to separate myth from fact with that one."

"Thank you Kalika." The older Abbai nodded in appreciation. "We shall do what we can."

The League party stepped up to one of the low buildings, this one rather expansive and containing a huge number of windows across its façade. A few curious citizens watched the mixed party but overall there was no fanfare or any of the ceremony of a state visit. The door guards let them through where they were greeted by a mid ranking Diplomat.

"If you would follow me," The smooth skulled alien bowed slightly. "The Theocrat will see you."

They were led through the chambers of government, each corridor decked with art works both alien and familiar. The Markab had quite diverse tastes but the familiar themes of light and dark seemed to be quite common.

They passed through a large doorway and came to a low roofed and well lit meeting room where an older Markab greeted them.

"Welcome to my world." He bowed, his richly coloured brown and red robes seeming to radiate warmth in the rooms light. "I understand you have had a long and difficult journey, I bid you please to rest here as long as you need to."

"Thank you Theocrat." Itala as usual spoke for the group. "Your offer reflects the generosity of your people."

The Markab bowed. "We sympathise with your situation and extend what comfort we can."

"Again we thank you, but we come to ask for more direct help from your race."

The Theocrat nodded. "I expected this, you wish me to send the warriors of Markab to war?"

"It is a hard request to ask."

"And a harder one to grant."

"I can only tell you the cause is just, and from a practical point of view a wise move."

"In what way is this war practical?" The Theocrat asked.

"The Dilgar are on your border, even now their fleets are gathering, probing Yolu space and building their forces."

"We are aware of this, but the will not attack us."

Itala frowned. "How do you know this?"

"Because the Maker protects us of course."

Itala nodded at that. "With all due respect to your religious beliefs Theocrat, the only protection against the Dilgar is an aggressive fleet and a pre-emptive strike."

"I don't believe I just heard an Abbai advocating a pre-emptive strike." The Theocrat said carefully.

"It is not easy for me, but we made a mistake." Itala said. "And we would ask the Markab not to make the same one."

"The Markab will not make any mistakes." The Theocrat said. "We noticed the Vree seemed to agree with you, they launched a pre-emptive strike as you know."

Itala saw where it was going. "The Vree attack was badly timed, another mistake."

"They were slaughtered by the Dilgar, cut to pieces."

"It won't be the same next time, the Vree were surprised!"

"We will not be surprised because we will not attack the Dilgar."

"If you don't go to war now, on your terms, the Dilgar will come for you when the advantage is theirs."

"We have done nothing to them, we are no threat."

"It isn't going to stop them."

"We also have powerful friends, the Humans are very impressive in battle."

"The whole League was destroyed, the most powerful collection of ships in the Galaxy." Itala replied. "Our measures of strength mean nothing."

"Honoured Theocrat, please listen." Commander Lelant of the Alacas added his voice. "The Dilgar don't care if you are threatening them, all aliens are a threat to them and all will be destroyed, that is simply their way."

"They will not cross our borders, the Great Maker will not allow it."

The Brakiri representative Kani scoffed. "Unless your maker rides down on a thunderbolt and starts some personal smiting the Dilgar will have you for breakfast."

"You insult my beliefs?" the Theocrat accused.

"No, I just insult you!"

"Gentlemen!" Itala slammed her hand on the table. "Enough of this, it is not helping matters!"

"We are a peaceful people, we do not want war and will not bring one down on us!" the Theocrat said firmly. "If they cross our borders we will fight them hard, and our friends in the Earth Alliance have promised military aid if we are attacked. The Dilgar do not dare provoke us!"

"They do whatever they want to do." Itala warned.

"The Maker guides and protects us, as long as we are pure of heart we will never fail. Never."

"Then I think this discussion is over." Itala sighed heavily. "Thank you Theocrat, I wish you all the luck in the Galaxy in your future. I pray you are right."

"So do we, and through our faith we will be saved."

Itala kept her views about Markab religion to herself while the Theocrat left with a respectful bow. As soon as the door closed the cacophony erupted.

"Who the hell is that?" The Brakiri snapped. "I thought he was a leader? Or did he just walk out of an asylum?"

"He can't be serious." Tullaq added. "He's just going to hope the Dilgar ignore him?"

"They are a strongly spiritual people." Itala said. "They have faith in their Maker."

"Well they'll be meeting him soon, hope he's good at small talk."

"Enough." Itala said with dejection. "This isn't going to work."

"Can't reason with fanatics." Tullaq sighed. "Pity, I bet that faith makes them good soldiers."

"They never retreat." Kalika agreed. "Never surrender, never stop fighting. Good allies to have."

"Only if they bother getting into their ships!" The Brakiri said. "Well, we're all dead. Nice work people, we really helped the situation."

"Shut up Kani." Itala grunted. "I refuse to let this be the end!"

"Why not?" Kani replied. "We're finished, doomed."

"No, no I will not allow it!"

"You won't allow it?" Bortalla Kani laughed in anything but good humour. "Oh well, that makes it all right then. Itala of the Abbai says 'no' and I'm sure the Dilgar will just turn around now and go home."

"Why don't you just be quiet?" Shiree of the Hyach wondered. "You're giving me a headache."

"Our impending annihilation is giving me a headache!" Kani retorted. "Alright then, now what? We've exhausted every option, we've got Dilgar snapping at our heels. What now?"

"Do we stay here?" Shiree asked.

"I am tempted." Itala admitted. "But within a month I bet these streets are burning with Dilgar orbital strikes."

"So we run again." Tullaq concluded. "But where."

"Earth." Kalika spoke up. "We should go to Earth."

"Waste of time." Kani dismissed. "Humans are isolationist."

"But the Theocrat said they were allies with the Markab." Kalika addressed. "So they must have some relations outside their border, and apparently they have fought enough to impress the Markab."

"I think we should try." Itala responded. "They are just one jump away."

"You are wasting time!" Kani said.

"Why don't you stay here then?" snapped Tullaq. "Give us all a rest from your complaining!"

"We stay together." Itala said firmly. "And we go to Earth."

Kani just snorted.

"I met a human once." Tullaq said. "Seemed decent enough."

"I heard a story from the Free Balosians." Lelant began talking. "It was about an Earth Ship, a military vessel, that took on the Dilgar at Tirrith to defend refugees."

"Human refugees?" Shiree asked.

"No, League ships, not even their own people but defenceless, so this ship went to fight anyway."

"What happened?"

"It fought well and hard, defeating many powerful Dilgar vessels before the Deathwalker herself destroyed it."

"Just a story." Kani dismissed.

"I've heard it enough times to know it is real." Lelant countered. "We should meet these humans, and we shouls meet them very soon. They truly are our last, best hope for survival."

Hyperspace near Androma

Hurr Homeworld.

Admiral Tak's feet ached. It was an odd thing to focus on at this time but it had been weighing more and more on his mind as he tried to focus on something other than the doom that was no doubt going to consume him soon. He concluded the reason they ached was because of the constant vibration through the floor that was shaking his whole body, and he presumed his feet were taking the worst of it.

He could alleviate the situation by slowing down, decreasing thrust to the engines would cut the vibration and give him some respite, and his crew too who were no doubt also rather uncomfortable, but such an action would be suicidal. Therefore Tak accepted the annoyance without complaint and not for the first time offered a prayer for speed.

Speed was the only thing keeping him alive, it was the only asset his ships had and even then it was being eroded. Speed was bringing him home and it was giving his people a chance to coordinate their fleets with their planetary defences. Aches and pains aside this was his civilizations last chance for survival.

The Latig offensive was a failure of epic proportions, the great offensive that would finally give the Hurr their rightful place as a prime race in the galaxy and vanished like mist in the afternoon sun, burnt away by harsh and unforgiving reality. Any hopes of glory or conquest had been dashed, many ships lost in the process, and now the survivors were running for home with their tails firmly between their legs.

But that was not the worst of it, the humiliation and loss was nothing compared to what was about to happen. The retreat was not merely a withdrawal or even a rout, it was a pursuit, a hunt, and the Hurr were the prey.

The Dilgar had not been content to just drive away the Hurr and had instead sent a fleet in pursuit aiming to chase thema ll the way back to Androma, and once there no doubt exact vengeance on the Hurr for daring to oppose them. The Hurr fleet and planetary defences were respectable but Tak knew they would not deter a Dilgar Strike fleet, especially the one chasing him now.

Long range scans had confirmed the presence of Deathwalkers command ship, she was coming in person to Androma and that more than anything else chilled Tak to his core.

"We are ten minutes from the gate sir." His helm officer reported.

"Fuel reserves?"

"Less than three percent." The officer answered. "But it will be enough."

"Have we managed to get a warning to homeworld yet?"

"No sir, the Dilgar fleet is jamming us and none of our units are out of range."

Tak huffed in a mix of anger and anxiety. It meant the first his people would know of the impending Dilgar attack would be when his fleet jumped out with Deathwalker on his back.

"Keep trying, any advanced warning will be useful."

"Sir the Dilgar are still closing, they are just a few minutes behind us."

"I know Commander, as soon as we jump I'll need all ships to come about and standby for battle."

It was a far from ideal situation to fight a battle in but Deathwalker wasn't going to give him the luxury of time and preparation. His fleet was exhausted, he doubted many had gotten a chance to sleep on the run from Latig and a lot of his ships were starting to fall apart at the seams after so much strain. The simple Hurr ships just weren't built for this sort of prolonged chase and a large number of ships had suffered mechanical failures. Some had been repaired, others had suffered only minor faults, but many had lost power or found themselves losing thrust. Those craft fell behind and found themselves at the Dilgar fleets scant mercy.

"Admiral, I just picked up internal explosions on the cruiser Unstoppable."

Tak swore under his breath. "How bad?"

"From the location I'd say it was a fuel line overload, she's losing engine power."

He watched the icon on his screen begin to slow and fall out of formation, one more valuable asset that wouldn't be able to defend their home.

"Confirming distress call from the Unstoppable."

"There is noting we can do for them." Tak sighed, usually he would have come alongside and grappled the ship before towing it home. To lose propulsion in hyperspace signalled a long slow death for the crew as the ship drifted off beacon to be lost forever. In this situation however with the Dilgar close behind if he stopped to help both ships would be destroyed.

"Tell Captain Solak to launch his fighters, those craft will join us in defending Androma."

"Yes sir."

It was a seemingly callous order and sealed the cruisers fate, it would not be helped but while the ship was lost Tak could still use its fighters. It was a cold thing to do, but one that reflected the practicality of war. Tak had to save what he could and sacrifice what he could not. He could mourn later.

"Their fighters are launching, Captain Solak wishes us luck."

"Offer him my praise and tell him the Hurr will not forget his honourable finish."

"He says he will try and engage the Dilgar and do damage before death takes his ship and crew."

"Tell him he dies as a hero of Androma and will be glorified."

Assuming there was any Hurr left to remember.

In all likelihood the scores of ships that fell out of formation probably just vanished into hyperspace without even seeing the Dilgar, and those that did get close enough were probably ignored. Owing to the cruelty of their race Tak believed the Dilgar would rather let a Hurr ship drift into oblivion than destroy it and give the crew a quick death. He hated fighting these people, not just because they were vicious and cruel but because they were such effective warriors.

"Approaching the beacon."

Tak acknowledged the report. "All ships initiate jump, combat spacing as soon as we are clear and back in open space."

The vortexes began to punch through the red swirls of hyperspace, looking increasingly like a sea of spilled blood to the Hurr Admiral. He buried the feeling, hoping to his household gods it wasn't a portent, then held on as the ship passed through the window between worlds and returned to the wide open blackness of the material universe.

Androma sat exactly in front of his ship, a stirringly beautiful world of green and white In that moment Tak could see it all, the grey snow capped mountains and craggy yellow valleys, the lush forests and wide plains, the turquoise seas and softly gurgling streams. He could virtually touch every facet of his world, taste the cold crisp air of the highlands and feel the baking warmth of the summer sun. It was a sudden and unexpected sensory memory and very timely.

"All ships come about, prepare for battle." He ordered. "Tell central command we have an enemy fleet incoming and to prepare for battle."

Dilgar First Strike Fleet

"We are almost there Warmaster."

Jha'dur acknowledged Captain AN'jash's report. "Very good, bring the fleet to first degree readiness, arm main weapons and begin deployment."

Like the Hurr fleet the Dilgar had been at full thrust since leaving Latig several hours after the Hurr. During the chase the Dilgar fleet had steadily gained ground turning the several hour lead the Hurr started with into a mere several minutes. While Hurr ships were hastily assembled designs using slapped together technology no suited for extended operations the Dilgar fleet was efficient enough to travel at full burn for days without serious incident.

Jha'dur's fleet had not been plagued by engine failures like the Hurr and still had more than half its fuel reserves available, a fortunate side effect of the Dilgar needing long range long endurance ships designed to fight wars a long way from home.

However when the ships had been designed, often with Jha'dur's personal insight, nobody had really expected the war to have advanced quite so far. While Dilgar ships had excellent endurance the action at Bestine had been very close to the limits of the fleet operating out of Mitoc. Any attack against the Vree or Markab would be at the very edges of the existing supply chain and a primary objective would be to secure a colony world to act as a new forward base.

Jha'dur would soon return to the rimward front and resume command of the attack, and as such was already planning ways to defeat the Vree but now she carefully cleared her mind and allowed herself to find a moment of peace and clarity before the next battle of her career.

"All ships formed up for jump."

"All units are weapons free." Jha'dur stated calmly. "Engage the moment we transition, no grand plan or clever strategy here. Just make them all die."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Bombardment ships can hold by the beacon until we clear away the enemy fleet, then move in and begin standard saturation strike."

"Warmaster, while our nuclear weapon magazines are full we have virtually no biological weapons." An'jash said with a hint of disappointment. "Second Strike fleet requisitioned almost the Imperiums entire reserve for use on Vartas and N'Chak'Fah and we haven't had a chance to resupply from the Alacan weapons factories."

"A shame, but it can't be helped." Jha'dur accepted. "Still, Androma is a side show, its ultimate fate means little to the Imperium. Expend what weapons we have, it should be enough to underline our message."

Simultaneously jump points began opening as the Strike Fleet made its move, advancing into Hurr spacevery close to the still deploying Hurr fleet. Before they were even out of the vortex the Dilgar ships opened fire, slicing through the nearest Hurr gunships with minimal difficulty.

The Hurr ships already in position began firing back, aiming at the vortexes which acted as choke points but to little avail, they just couldn't concentrate enough firepower fast enough to damage the tide of Dilgar warships arriving in system, most of which vastly outgunned the average Hurr vessel.

The Dilgar fleet deployed in a perfect fan formation centred on the fleets dreadnoughts and expanding out into cruisers, destroyers and finally frigates. The whole procedure took under three minutes, a test of precision among the crews of the fleet.

Hurr fighters raced forward, with their home to their backs they did not hesitate to attack despite the odds. While their formations were loose and technology lacking there was no doubt to their courage as they took on the mightiest of Dilgar forces.

The results were unfortunately predictable, with the Delta style fighters running into a wall of Elite Thoruns and getting cut to shreds, barely a quarter making it past the fighter screen to be picked off by the fleets guns.

For the Hurr it was the battle of their lives, an all out desperate engagement to stop the depraved forces of Deathwalker ending their civilization. For them it was the ultimate calling, a defining point in Hurr history and quite possibly their final defiant gesture in the galaxy. For the Dilgar it was a momentary distraction, an opportunity for some gunnery practice and a securing of the flank, nothing more than that.

There was little subtlety to the battle, it simply was not needed. The Dilgar fleet had no need for complex deployments, constantly shifting formations or fluid tactics because their opponent did not warrant it. The Hurr were attacking in either rigid blocks or desperate individual units offering no tactical challenge to be overcome. It was simple old fashioned slaughter and to Jha'dur actually quite boring.

Warships flung themselves at the strike fleet in a blaze of guns and overcharged engines, like small comets filled with righteous fury. Yet each and every one battered themselves futilely against the Dilgar bulwark, the concentrated guns of dreadnoughts and cruisers tearing through the Hurr in an instant and leaving their small ships as little more than empty coffins.

"The Dilgar continue to advance!"

Admiral Tak fought back his bitterness at this disaster. He blamed the Drazi for not fighting hard enough, he blamed his government for entering into this disastrous alliance in the first place, and he blamed the Dilgar for their blood lust.

"We don't have the ships to stop them." He reasoned, though he had known that fact since they had fled Latig.

"Our lines are breaking, Dilgar ships are passing through our fleet!" his executive officer warned. "They are heading for the planet!"

The icons on his tactical display vanished one by one, each one a ship he knew the name of, a Captain he could see the face of, a sliver of hope he could no longer feel. In their place a mass of enemy symbols took their place, remorseless and unrelenting in their quest for victory.

"This battle is out of our hands now." Tak said. "We have done our part, pray the defence network is enough."

The Hurr fleet had fought well, but the results were terrible. They had accounted for barely a handful of Dilgar ships, the interlocking fields of fire serving to cut down Hurr ships by the dozen before they even reached range. It was as one sided a fight as Tak had ever heard of, the Hurr was just outclassed on every conceivable level.

The ships beside Tak salvo fired their missiles, a potent volley of forty warheads each that aimed to saturate the Dilgar lines with nuclear fire, but like so many other Hurr attempts it failed. The missiles simply weren't fast enough to avoid the Thorun screen and the point defences meaning each weapon was shot down before it could do anygood. One more example of the common pattern of the battle. Nothing the Hurr did seemed to work, and now they had no more ships to try.

"Helm, reactivate the engines." Tak ordered. "Set a collision course with the nearest Dreadnought."

The helm officer obeyed without question. "Course locked, engines engaging."

"All guns fire at will, do what damage you can." Tak ordered. "When we die, we die with every gun firing and the proud history of our people guiding our path to finality."

The ship and two others seeing their Admirals choice made for the Dilgar lines, passing by the wrecks of their comrades. The Dreadnought in their path was busily finishing off a pair of carriers and did not immediately spot the new threat.

"If I could pick any die to die, it would be this day." Tak said with a swell of pride.

The ship on their left shuddered as a Thorun fired a missile into its engineering section, falling out of formation with its stern a sheet of white flame.

"If I could pick any way to die, it would be this way."

The ship to the right was struck by a Dilgar cruiser, a trio of particle bolts physically blasting the ship into two halves and sending the severed ends rolling over and over into the void.

"And if I could pick any enemy to make my last stand against, it would be this one."

The Dreadnought swung its awesome array of heavy weapons about, easily outgunning Tak three or four times over. Its maw filled the video display on the bridge, its mass driver reaching forward like skeletal fingers grasping for Tak's soul.

"And this is how it ends." Tak said finally, not just of his own life but that of his race too. He could do nothing more now but accept it and let go.

The Dreadnought fired its forward weapons, cutting deep into Tak's flagship with its lasers while the heavy bolters ripped huge portions of the hull away. The Hurr vessel took the barrage for three seconds before exploding in a storm of white light and black metal, still a hundred miles from it's target. Unharmed and unknowing, the Dreadnought resumed its course.

Jha'dur remained still in her chair, dimly lit by the reddish lights of the bridge at alert status.

"The Hurr fleet is destroyed." An'jash announced.

"Stragglers?"

"A few fighters, no warships." The Captain answered.

"Assign two Thorun wings to hunt them down, recall the rest of our fighters."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Signal the bombardment ships to deploy on our position, then get me an analysis of the Hurr defence grid."

On Jha'dur's orders more jump points formed releasing the attached squadrons of Athraskala bombers. The Athraskala class was a simple boxy hull design which was well used in Dilgar service. They served as armed freighters, bulk troop transports, refuelling ships and even mobile repair vessels. However their primary role was as a weapon of planetary destruction and as such the standard model was well armed for that task.

The ships Jha'dur had brought mounted a Mass Driver each along with large magazines given over to unpowered warheads dropped from the ship into orbit just like ancient ballistic weapons. In this case they were Nuclear and radiological devices rather than a mix of nukes, chemical warheads and biological weapons.

One of the variants among the fleet was euphemistically called a 'Hospital' ship, and while it was well equipped with labs and operating theatres its mission was anything but merciful.

Most large Dilgar ships mounted a Mass Driver and facilities for nuclear weapons, but not to the extent of the Athraskala. Those ships were pure weapons of terror used exclusively against civilian targets. Of all Dilgar ships they were the most hated, even more so than the mighty dreadnoughts and constant stream of destroyers. While the guns of the Dilgar had killed millions, the Athraskala class had killed billions, and their medical ships were a sight to freeze blood across the galaxy.

In open combat the ships were easy kills as the Vree had shown at Bestine and as such usually waited in hyperspace until the way was clear for them. They were a valuable tool of Dilgar policy and harbingers of doom for billions.

"Warmaster, report on the Hurr defence grid."

"Let me hear it." Jha'dur commanded.

"Multiple defence satellites, short ranged by our standards and armed with mediocre weapons. We also have one large station."

"We'll stand off and destroy the satellites from range using fighters to cover us from missiles." Jha'dur quickly planned. "As for the station, send in Knight squadron and have them remove the main targeting sensors. And then find me a rock for the Mass Driver."

The Dilgar fleet began making passes on the defence grid firing a few shots and range and retiring while the Thoruns quite easily intercepted the Hurr missiles which fired back. Sometimes the Dilgar ships hit the satellites, sometimes they most though those stray shots invariably landed somewhere on the planet itself to the satisfaction of the Dilgar officers.

The Station orbiting above the capital was another issue, while primitive it was large enough to absorb a lot of firepower before it collapsed and Jha'dur didn't have the time to waste battering down its defences. While the rest of the fleet engaged the satellites Squadron Leader Ari'shan sped through the emptiness and lined up on the station.

"Lead to two, you'll follow me in." Ari'shan said calmly, entirely focused on the task at hand."

"Understood." Came the confirmation.

"All knights pair off, odd numbers and evens." He ordered. "If I miss Knight three will make your run, then five and so on."

Ari'shan wasn't expecting to miss but he also needed to plan for every eventuality.

"Until then all fighters run interference, draw their fire but do not over extend yourselves. We've got specific orders from the Warmaster, let's not ruin her plans."

In a cinematic display of precision Knight squadron rolled into battle at full thrust, splaying like fingers and fanning out in pairs to attack the station from different directions. Ahead of them the starbase grew rapidly in size, far bigger than any ship in the Dilgar fleet with a cylindrical core and four large oblong arms reaching out to form docking points for cargo ships.

"Reading a lot of guns and missiles on that thing." Knight two warned.

"Mostly anti ship weapons though." Ari'shan noticed. "No danger to us, watch for the light plasma guns, they are the only weapons small enough to track us."

No sooner had he finished when the sky filled with white flashes of hot plasma, the stations point defences trying to get a fix on the agile Dilgar craft. Ari'shan barrel rolled his fighter gracefully as a stream of pulses seared past his black and red Thorun and dissipated into space behind him.

"All Knights start your runs, fast and clean."

The Dilgar squadron turned in and raced for the station from different directions passing very close to the hull itself. They fired on targets of opportunity, picking off guns or communication nodes as they came across them before turning wildly and unpredictably to hinder the stations gunners.

"I've got the main sensor panel." Knight Two called. "Centre left, a black recessed panel."

"I see it."

"Picking up a lot of emissions from that, no question, that has to be it."

"Alright, we'll go in from the opposite side and mask our intentions. Stay close, we'll be skimming the deck."

"Sounds like fun." His wingman chuckled "Increasing ECM systems to full."

"Be ready on countermeasures when we make our pass, chances are they'll be firing every weapon at us as we leave."

"Understood, I'm ready."

"Then let's embrace the new challenge." Ari'shan smiled, as usual bereft of a sealed helmet.

Ari'shans fighter dropped down to the level of the station heading straight for a docking port at full speed. With half a second to spare he rolled out of the way and skirted barely a foot above the grey surface of the station, close enough to leave a long black scorch mark on the paint from his three engines.

The Hurr guns swung around to target him, but the closest guns with the best chance of hitting couldn't depress their muzzles low enough allowing Ari to weave through them on a flat trajectory. He carefully kept his wings level during turns, just a few degrees out could let his wing tip engines clip the station and he doubted even his piloting skill could recover from that situation at this speed.

Two other Thoruns raced past in a black and green blur trailing a long purple trident of ions behind them while white plasma tried in vain to chase them down. He noted his wingman was still behind him and playing his role to perfection with no thoughts of ego or misplaced glory. Knight squadron was a true elite, not just skilled but devoted to a particular way of life, a rare ideal among Dilgar. Unlike many of his race they fought with honour and while ruthless to their enemies they would only fire on those who responded to the challenge and had a chance to defend themselves.

Ari'shans waypoint finder lined him up nicely with the scanner array on the far side of the central core. He put his fighter in a shallow turn before suddenly pulling up hard and throwing off the stations gunners. He blazed around core before cutting his engines and spinning to point his guns at the scanner while momentum threw him past it sideways. He had a tiny window of opportunity at this speed and as tradition dictated would not use computer targeting. In the high ECM environment of the station he didn't trust the computer anyway.

He held down the trigger as he flashed past the target strafing with all four guns to increase the chances of a hit. The red bolts chewed into the station, doing little more than superficial damage to the surrounding hull but two rounds hit the scanner square on, shattering the fragile structure.

"Direct hit!" Knight two confirmed as he raced past a second behind Ari'shan. "It's completely destroyed!"

"That's it, mission done." Ari'shan called as he put the nose back in the direction of travel and made a curving powered turn away. "All Knights break off and reform by the flagship, I don't think we want to be within a hundred miles of this place."

In a display of organised chaos the Thoruns broke away and headed for home along a random course leaving the Hurr station blind and vulnerable until they powered up their secondary system.

"Knight squadron reports the main sensor array has been destroyed."

"Very well." Jha'dur smiled. "Gunnery officer, open fire."

Jha'dur's dreadnought was a unique design different from the other ships of the Mishakur class. Most noticeable was its black and red colour scheme familiar galaxy wide but the ship had more to commend it that just that. It had more weapons, better engines allowing it to turn like a cruiser, superior sensors, much heavier armour and various internal additions such as labs and hermatically sealed storage rooms.

Probably the most obvious difference was the Mass Driver. All Dreadnoughts carried one but in the case of the Dreadnought Deathwalker the driver had a unique 'double barreled' design which was essentially two drivers mounted side by side.

The power requirement for Mass Drivers were huge usually requiring all other weapons to be deactivated, and the double weapon of the Deathwalker was no exception. It did however offer a faster method of causing tremendous destruction, something Jha'dur would soon demonstrate.

There had been no appropriate asteroids so the utility shuttles had instead loaded the device with the bow of a Hurr cruiser on one launcher and a pair of truncated engines in the second. Jha'dur usually preferred rocks due to their tendancy to shatter on impact throwing up more dust and debris into the atmosphere, but in this instance the better penetrative epower of a metal projectile would be better anyway.

The ship launched the bow first, the broken metal hull crackling with blue energy as it was kicked out of the rack. A few seconds later the engines followed, both aimed for the station.

Usually Mass Drivers were useless against anything other than a planet, but the station was slow enough and predictable enough to target and hit. Usually the heavy guns would have shot down the relatively slow moving projectiles, but after Ari'shans attack run the defensive fire was seriously impaired and firing wildly at the incoming projectiles.

By chance one round hit the engines, destroying them instantly, but the bow was not intercepted. The armoured hull segment ploughed into the station in a shower of molten metal and shook the facility apart. Two of the docking arms fell away in a trail of broken metal before the stations reactor itself exploded and consumed most of the facility.

"My compliment son your aim Lieutenant." The Warmaster stated.

"Thank you Ma'am."

"The fleet reports the satellite defences have been destroyed." An'jash confirmed. "Minimal damage to our forces."

"Deploy bombardment ships."

The Athraskala's made their sluggish way into position and armed their weapons, Mass Drivers and nuclear weapons. They spaced out in orbit, found targets relating to infrastructure, industry or major population centres and awaited the final order.

"In position Warmaster."

"Destroy everything." Jha'dur ordered. "Empty the magazines."

With no further comment the strike began, a black rain of conical warheads began re-entry leaving a path of fire in their wake. Debris loaded into the Mass Drivers proceeded them, falling faster and focused on the great cities of the Hurr. Most of the historic cities were constructed in places surrounded by hills for defence, those hills now served to concentrate the blast of the incoming strikes causing almost total destruction of the targeted location.

Mushroom clouds sprouted in black, grey and brown across the planet taking hundreds of millions of lives in seconds. The policy of the Dilgar Imperium was once more delivered to the helpless civilians of some distant planet, most of its inhabitants having never even heard of Dilgar a few years earlier. No one who lived past today would ever forget.

"That's it, all nuclear weapons deployed." An'jash said. "I estimate forty percent of urban areas have been hit between the Mass Drivers and the bombs."

"Nearly three billion people." Jha'dur calculated. "Not counting those who will starve as the Hurr infrastructure breaks down. All in less than two minutes."

"Shall I order the Mass Drivers reloaded for a second strike?"

"No, no this is enough. I have no need to exterminate the whole race." Jha'dur remarked. "Yet."

"Shall I prepare jump engines?"

"At once Captain, we have a schedule." The Warmaster said. "We return to Latig, refuel and assault Deskartalos. No doubt the battle will be underway by then and our presence will be a timely relief for our sister fleets."

"Transmitting orders to the fleet."

"I haven't seen a force in the Galaxy that can withstand two Strike Fleets working together." Jha'dur mused. "We will finish the Drazi, dispose of the Vree and then turn back and secure our new Empire by levelling every last League homeworld that resists us."

"And then our victory is complete." An'jash grinned. "And our people saved."

"Until the next war." Jha'dur added. "There will always be another war and we must prepare. But after this war ends only a fool would challenge us. We can rest for a while." She paused, then smiled thinly. "And take some time to correct misconceptions in the leadership about exactly who is in charge of the Imperium."

The Dilgar fleet turned its back and left, while behind them Androma burned.


	58. Chapter 58

57

Latig

Dilgar Occupied Space.

Jha'dur had been very quiet since the return of her Strike Fleet to the Latig system. Captain AN'jash had found herself surprised at this as her mentor and Warmaster had never really had much of a problem expressing herself before. Jha'dur would speak openly of things on her mind to An'jash on a regular basis as the Warmaster did not consider sharing her concerns a sign of weakness providing she could find an answer to them. An'jash had learned a lot from observing her commanders thought processes and how she solved problems, but today was different.

The fleet had expected to be met by Battlemaster Yeg'dra and a few hundred supply vessels crammed with fuel and munitions to replenish their stocks. Instead they had arrived to find a field of wrecks, many still burning even after all these hours since the attack, and news of a surprise Drazi attack in force.

Yeg'dra had surrendered his command and reported to the Flagship where he was now locked firmly in the brig awaiting Jha'dur's attention. Something she had yet to deliver.

"Captain," She spoke at last. "What is the average fuel level across the fleet?"

"Fifteen percent Warmaster." An'jash had compiled the figures minutes after their arrival, anticipating the Warmasters question.

"Enough to get us to Tithalis." Jha'dur did the math. "But only half way to Deskartalos."

"We have a major supply yard at Tithalis." An'jash informed. "I checked the Quartermaster records, they have enough fuel for five Strike Fleets."

"But to claim it we have to travel there first as we have no fuel tankers nearby." Jha'dur remarked. "They are all on the rimward front now. By travelling to Tithalis we lose four days before even starting for Deskartalos."

"If we can postpone the attack, ask Warmaster Dar'sen to delay…"

"Then we give the Drazi time to fortify and prepare, to ressuply themselves and be fully combat ready when our fleet arrives after a lengthy journey." She shook her head. "No, it is less dangerous to attack with two thirds our force now than it is to send every ship in a weeks time."

"With respect Warmaster, does this mean our part in this campaign is over?"

"I'm afraid so Captain." Jha'dur answered. "We failed, no, I failed to predict the Drazi had more forces than we had encountered. I also failed to predict that force would be disciplined enough to refuse the challenge to open battle and instead focus on the target that would hurt us most."

"I've never heard of any Drazi refusing battle with a warship."

"Well you have now Captain." Jha'dur remarked with a cold humour. "A Drazi who would fight strategically. It must be Stro'kath, the warrior Dar'sen encountered and actually came to respect."

"He's more trouble than a whole fleet of other Generals."

"Far more trouble." Jha'dur agreed. "A worthy candidate for assassination."

"Assassination Warmaster?" An'jash raised a furry eyebrow. "Is that possible?"

"Stro'kath is undoubtedly well guarded, and is himself likely a superb fighter. However my Spectres are the best in the galaxy at infiltration and murder." The Warmaster grinned for the first time since returning. "This is a job for them. I will see to it when we return to Tithalis."

Jha'dur stood, slightly more energetic with this new idea in her head.

"Make sure there is nothing salvageable, then prepare to jump. We leave in an hour."

She stepped down from her central raised platform and headed for the doorway.

"I will be spending some time with Battlemaster Yeg'dra if you need me."

Yeg'dra had remained utterly still for the past two hours stood to attention inside the Brig. He had a metal shelf that served as a bed and a plain chair and desk in the middle of the room but at chosen to stand all this time. Perhaps he considered it a form of penance, a self inflicted hardship to try and cleanse his sin of pride. Or perhaps he just wanted to be a soldier in his final moments of life.

He had no illusions about what would likely happen next. Failure in Dilgar service usually had one punishment, death. Often it was a slow death to serve as an example to others and his high rank was no safeguard. He was aware of two full Warmasters who suffered death by Vivisection before the war for failing to prevent a Narn or Drazi incursion. Their demise had opened up positions for Jha'dur and her Brother to join the council, likely on the orders of Gar'shan.

No, Yeg'dra knew his fate and he knew Jha'dur's reputation. Vivisection would be a paradise compared to some of the exquisite tortures Jha'dur was renowned for among the fleet. She had a mixed record when it came to punishment, often chosing not to execute her subordinates on the spot for mistakes providing they were down to fortune and not incompetence. Jha'dur did not like to waste resources like a skilled officer or good pilot. However Yeg'dra did not think he fell into that category, and he did not think a mistake of this magnitude could be so easily forgiven.

The heavy door squeaked and clanked as its locks slid down within its frame then ground open. Two armed guards moved in and quickly ran a scan over him looking for weapons, then withdrew. Yeg'dra remained stood motionless as his Warmaster walked in with the easiness of a young woman out for a stroll.

"Seal the door Sergeant." Jha'dur spoke. "I wish to speak in private with the Battlemaster."

Yeg'dra noted she still used his formal rank, and not the term 'prisoner' he expected.

The door closed shut and Jha'dur stood before him silently staring at him. Yeg'dra in turn offered a perfect salute.

"Battlemaster Yeg'dra reporting for punishment."

"Very well Battlemaster." She returned the salute expertly. "Sit down."

"With respect I prefer to stand Warmaster."

"Sit down Yeg'dra." Jha'dur repeated firmly. "I intend to sit and will not have a subordinate looking down on me."

Without further discussion he sat, and Jha'dur followed suit taking places on opposite sides of the small desk.

"I have read your report."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Do you believe this Drazi officer to be the same one from Fendamir and Tithalis?"

"Our sensors identified the same command ship, it would appear certain."

"An unpredictable foe." Jha'dur considered.

"Yes Warmaster, but it is no excuse."

"No it isn't Battlemaster." Jha'dur agreed simply.

"I deployed in text book formation to meet a frontal assault, as the Drazi were arrayed for such an attack."

"But it was a bluff, and the Drazi altered formation, direction and targets all within the space of a few seconds." The Warmaster noted. "Quite impressive really, this Stro'kath knows how to use his ships to their strengths."

"He did Warmaster." Yeg'dra spoke in regret. "He refused battle and attacked the convoy."

"Which you ordered to run?2

"Yes Warmaster, I believed that if we were to engage in open battle they would do better away from us."

"And you did not predict the Drazi were tricking you? Even though you knew who commanded this fleet?"

"I did not consider it Warmaster."

"And you did not order the Convoy to scatter as is standard procedure when faced with military grade Raiders and no escorts?"

"No Warmaster, they remained closely packed."

"Making them easy to destroy quickly." Jha'dur grimaced.

"I make no excuse." Yeg'dra said.

"No, and that interests me." Jha'dur fixed him with her gaze. "You know this can end only one way."

"Yes Warmaster, an example must be made."

"Yes, that is true."

"While I was unlucky in facing Stro'kath I failed to set up a contingency. In hindsight I should have deployed my fleet in waves so the rearmost force could still have covered the convoy."

"Or scattered the convoy so the Drazi could not attack them all at once, giving you time to redeploy and hunt them down individually?"

"Yes Warmaster." Yeg'dra sighed. "Even now I cannot see the correct strategy."

"Stro'kath is the best they have, the best in the whole League and the most cunning commander we Dilgar have yet faced." Jha'dur stated. "There is no shame in losing to him, you are not dishonoured."

Yeg'dra raised his chin in slight pride. "Thank you Warmaster."

"Your family will not be tainted by allegations of failure or incompetence, it was an honest defeat."

"Warmaster, I am slightly surprised by this."

"Don't be." Jha'dur said. "You will still serve as an example, but it will be one more positive than simply removing your insides in public."

"Thank you Warmaster."

"Don't thank me, thank Warmaster Dar'sen." Jha'dur shook her head. "He spoke highly of you and said you prevented the defeat at Fendamir becoming an even greater disaster. For that alone I'm going to put destiny in your own hands and let you make one more choice."

She took a hand gun from a holster by her side. It was not her usual sidearm but an antique weapon at least a century old but still in seemingly perfect condition. The dull scent of grease and oil lingered around it telling of a mechanical device rather than an energy weapon.

"You will die Battlemaster." Jha'dur said plainly. "Nothing can change that, your mistake has cost us the campaign in all likelihood. Even if we win at Deskartalos which is in no way certain now, we do not have the resources to pursue the Drazi fleet any further. The best we can hope for is a return to the status quo of a stable front."

"I understand Warmaster."

"Your choice, your responsibility, is to die like an officer."

She reached into her pocket and took out a cartridge for the antique slug thrower, placing the bullet on the desk beside the gun.

"I would prefer not to kill you under current rules." She spoke quietly. "I think you have earned a more dignified end Battlemaster, with your honour and rank intact.

Yeg'dra looked down on the weapon and the bullet.

"In the past, when military leaders failed in battle," Jha'dur continued. "They would retire to their command centres with a single bullet, and would atone for their mistakes."

The Battlemaster nodded. "I understand."

"You have taken responsibility for your failures, that is why I am giving you this opportunity to take responsibility for redressing them." Jha'dur informed. "If you had made excuses, bleated about bad luck and a tricky enemy you would have been in Lab Nine faster than you could scream for mercy. But you did not ask me for anything but due punishment. I respect that Yeg'dra."

The Warmaster stood and banged on the door, a second later it opened. She took a recorder from the Sergeant and placed it on the desk.

"You have five minutes to leave a message for your family." She said. "I will be back in six minutes, I hope you make the right choice Battlemaster, I don't want to have wasted my time here."

"You have not Warmaster." He expertly took the round and chambered it in the antique gun.

"That weapon was given to me by the Supreme Warmaster as a gift when I became Warmaster myself." Jha'dur said. "Some of our greatest leaders who fell from grace made their final apologies to their people with that self same weapon. It has a proud history as do we all. Five minutes Battlemaster."

"Warmaster Jha'dur." Yeg'dra spoke up. "I pray you lead our people to victory."

"As do I." She bowed slightly. "You are an example to us all, a man who takes responsibility for his mistakes no matter the cost. Farewell Battlemaster, your place among the glorious dead in the afterlife is assured."

She stepped out of the room and closed the door, the Sergeant moving to seal it.

"No," she ordered. "That is not necessary, leave it unlocked."

"As you wish Warmaster."

"He isn't going to run."

With her original plan in tatters there was now nothing else to do. She couldn't support the Homefleet and Dar'sen now in their decisive battle, and there was a whole fleet under Stro'kath likely on its way to reinforce the Drazi. That could be very bad for them.

She couldn't even warn them, the Drazi were jamming all frequencies in their territory and both other Dilgar fleets were striking far behind enemy lines. She could only hope Dar'sen was skilled enough to withdraw from an un-winnable battle but creating a lot of damage in the process.

Deskartalos was the supply hub for the whole front, similar in purpose to Tithalis in the Dilgar grand strategy. Dar'sen could in theory completely cripple the Drazi fleet by razing the planet and thereby preventing any substantial Drazi counter attacks for months, perhaps longer. By which time the Dilgar should have stabilised the far flung edges of the advance and would be able to concentrate all three Strike fleets and the Home fleet to finishing the Drazi. Against a force like that even with their heavily defended worlds and inspirational leader the Drazi would be finished.

Behind her came the sharp retort of a gunshot, then the muffled thump of a body dropping to the floor.

"Assemble a detail Sergeant, place Battlemaster Yeg'dra in a coffin and send him home. Full military honours, he earned that in earlier battles and atoned for his mistakes. I want him buried in the Battlemasters Cemetery on my authority."

"Ma'am, that may generate controversy."

"Let it, he is an example that you can maintain honour by accepting responsibility. I hope he will inspire officers in lesser fleets to be more bold if faced with battle. I would rather lose a battle through an honest mistake than lose because someone is too scared to make a choice."

"It will be done."

"And see his personal effects reach his family, then clean my gun and return it to my quarters in case I need it again."

Jha'dur acknowledged the Sergeant's salute, then headed for her quarters to try and see what the Dilgar could do next to try and gain something from this situation.

Parris Island

United States

Earth

"Parade!" Gunnery Sergeant bellowed the command with such force that half the civilians gathered for the event almost jumped up themselves. "Attention!"

With a grinding slam a thousand pairs of heavy boots stamped down on asphalt, neat squares of grey uniformed men and women standing rigid in the cutting early December air. Despite the utterly inhospitable temperatures the ranks of soldiers were stood in just their dress uniforms grasping old looking wooden stocked rifles. Not one of them shivered or showed even a hint of discomfort in front of the crowd.

It was the official passing out parade for the newest batch of troops in Earth Force, no longer recruits or trainees but now fully fledged members of humanity's military.

"Present Arms!" Hurley commanded again, and across the parade ground the slap of hands on rifles was accompanied by a gleam of light as the well polished ceremonial weapons caught the scant sunlight.

In front of them a few thousand proud family members looked on along with some local diplomats and dignitaries showing up for official support. There was also a fair selection of military officers including one retired General and a Naval Captain.

Less conspicuous among the crowd there were also a couple of representatives from the EIA in a less official capacity.

"Which one is he?" Jenny Sakai squinted at the rows of uniformed troops.

"There." Francis O'Leary pointed. "At the far end, with black hair."

"They're wearing berets Francis." She replied with mild amusement.

"Just there, right on the end." He gestured emphatically. "That's Dom, Dermot Hannigan."

"Now Private Hannigan of Earth Force." Jenny mused. "Good for him."

"I'm still a bit surprised." Francis admitted. "I didn't take him for the military type."

"How long have you known him?"

"Twelve years." Francis smiled. "He did always like gadgets though, and fast cars."

"Well the military have all the best gadgets, and fast cars can't beat a Banshee strike fighter."

"That's got to be it." Francis nodded. "The only alternative is he got all responsible and civil minded."

"Perish the thought." Jenny grinned widely. "Course if he knew your day job he might say the same thing about you."

Francis laughed. "I'm only in this because you people have the best computers anywhere, and the prettiest girls."

"Sure you are." Jenny let the point slide with a wide grin.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," The tannoy system crackled. "Please welcome General Cadiz, former commander of the Iberian division."

The crowd applauded appropriately as a grey haired officer stepped up to a podium on the asphalt just in front of the stands filled with spectators.

"Help me Jenny, who is he?" Francis whispered as he applauded.

"His division was responsible for securing the main factory district during the Mars rebellion twenty years ago." Jenny explained. "And he held off a Narn assault during the Eridani skirmishes, he's retired from active duty now but he was an excellent officer. Quite an honour for him to take the salute at your friends passing out parade."

The elderly officer still moved with the precise gait of a trained soldier, despite being at least eighty in Francis' conservative opinion. His face was mostly hidden by a neat white beard though behind it his dark eyes still gleamed with an energy that seemed out of place in such an old man.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." He spoke in English but with a clear Spanish accent. "Today we welcome a selection of the bravest men and women of our world into the family of Earth Force. We honour the choice they have made to defend our people and we offer them our respect and gratitude for the risks and sacrifice they are willing to take."

Francis found himself quite impressed by the unwavering quality of General Cadiz's voice.

"Earth Force has a proud history." He continued. "Since its formation after World War Three it has grown to encompass the traditions and abilities of the entire globes fighting forces. It has learned new skills as we have been forced to fight on barren worlds and the emptiness of space. We employ new technologies, agile fighters and great starships. We wield more military power now than at any time in human history, yet it means nothing without the people you see behind me."

He looked over his shoulder, then back at the crowd.

"All the weapons in the galaxy mean nothing without skilled and brave people willing to use them. If we learn anything from our neighbours it is that the will to fight and the skill to fight are paramount in the way of modern war, just as they have always been. It is to these men and women we now entrust that bond between Earth and its defenders. They have the will, they have the capability, and after today they will also have the title of Earth Force personnel. Whether they fly fighters, or command warships, or stand on the ground rifle in hand they are all one and the same. Today they join Earth Force, and we pay our thanks."

Cadiz stepped down to applause once again, then walked over to the dais facing the parade ground and joined the Camp commander in preparing to take the salute.

"Parade!" Hurley once again roared. "Slope arms!"

With sharp practiced drill the troops moved their rifles from the salute position to a marching position.

"Left face!"

Again boots skidded and slammed like a thunder clap in the distance.

"By the right, forward march!"

On the order the brass band waiting silently hidden behind the troops struck up a drum beat followed by a series of trumpet calls, then settled into a string of traditional marching songs from across the globe. Earth Force had adopted the traditions of its member nations including the old tunes its armies had marched to. Now it was common to see Russian soldiers marching to American tunes or French soldiers following a German beat. In this case the first song was American in origin to honour their location.

Sergeant Hurley was at the front of the parade in immaculate grey with a drawn sword polished to a mirror finish. He led the snaking columns past the dais where general Cadiz took the salute.

"Eyes right!" he bellowed, and on cue the new troops turned to acknowledge the old General who responded in kind, along with an assortment of other officers beside him and in the front row of the crowd.

"Wow, he's got that down good." Francis nodded at the distant figure of Dom. "He couldn't walk ten yards in a straight line this time last year."

"Well the army excels at getting people to walk." Jenny said with slight sarcasm. "But I see your point, he's got direction now, and I don't just mean following the Sergeant around the square."

"Dom with a purpose in life?" Francis chuckled. "That's a good one."

"But true." Jenny continued. "He made a choice to be something more than a guy on a street corner wasting his time. It's admirable."

"Nice to have a choice."

Jenny smiled. "You're wondering if he did this because his best friend vanished to an office in Geneva?"

"No I'm… yeah, actually I am." Francis frowned. "How did you get so good at reading people?"

"Kinda my job, remember?" She unleashed a dazzling smile. "You broke up the team, left him without a sense of belonging to something, so he chose to belong to the army. I can see why you'd think that but I wouldn't blame myself."

"It must have been part of his decision."

"Maybe, but it was still his decision." Jenny said. "Gotta grow up someday, for Dom that day is this day. Be glad for him, I'm sure he'll be along soon."

The Parade made its way past the dais and away back to a standing position in the neat squares demarking platoons and companies. There Sergeant Hurley proceeded to the front of the ground, saluted general Cadiz and formally asked permission to dismiss the troops.

"Parade!" he yelled a final time at the arrayed soldiers. "Dismiss!"

The group stood to attention, turned on their heels and then dissolved into mass of smiling men and women congratulating each other.

"Lets go say hello." Jenny smiled. "He made it through the Gunny's academy, guy deserves a medal for that alone."

The crowd stepped down from their stands and began to mingle on the parade ground with the troops seeking out family members and friends and sharing their pride in the achievements of their sons, daughter, brothers and sisters. Francis made his way through looking for his own friend, eventually finding him embracing a fellow soldier.

"Hey Dom!"

The Soldier looked around. "Francis? You made it!"

He dashed forward and caught the young agent in a strong bear hug.

"You've been working on those muscles." Francis managed through the crushing hug.

"Ah, sorry." He let go. "I loose track sometimes."

"This is Jenny Sakai, we work together in the export business."

She shook hands. "Glad you made it through the Force Dermot."

"Please, call me Dom." He revealed his best smile for the attractive female. "You've got a good grip."

"Well I like to keep in shape."

"And what a shape!" Dom laughed. "Just joking."

"You better not be!" Jenny mocked indignation. "Takes a lot of work to stay this trim."

The three of them shared the joke.

"Oh, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine." Dom remembered. "Bill?"

Beside him another young soldier turned joyfully. "Dom, man we made it!"

"Sure did!" They slapped each others backs. "This is my buddy Francis from home, and one of his friends Jenny."

"Damn you pick good friends." The Young man grinned. "William Hague."

"Good to meet you." Jenny shook hands.

"Likewise." Added Francis.

"So you guys got your assignments yet?" Jenny asked.

"Just before we came out on parade." Dom confirmed. "I'm joining Airborne."

"Paratroopers." Jenny raised an eyebrow in appreciation. "You must have impressed the Gunny to get into that sort of outfit, very high standards."

"That's what I heard, but really I'd rather fly Furies like Bill."

"You got into the Starfury Programme?" Francis asked.

"Nova Furies too." Hague beamed proudly. "Apparently I'm a natural pilot, I'm going straight to an operational training squadron."

"Some guys get all the luck." Dom jibed in good humour.

"Airborne is something to be proud of." Jenny offered. "I spent some time with some Airborne people once, good characters, tough but real sense of comradeship. You'll love it. Real challenge."

"You did really well Dom." Francis congratulated. "Really."

"Thanks Franky, means a lot." He grinned. "And now I've got a more exciting job than you!"

"Well I don't think…" he felt Jenny give him a slight kick. "Yeah, you got me beat."

"Well I better go find my folks." Dom said eagerly. "You staying for drinks later?"

"Sure, but I have to be somewhere tomorrow, company business."

"Then we'll see you at six, get started early!" Dom laughed. "Glad you made it, really."

"Me too." Francis stretched out his hand. "Well done Dom."

His friend shook it. "Six Franky, don't dare forget!"

"I won't, now get out of here!"

Still laughing and grinning Dom drifted into the crowd to look for his own parents.

"He's happy." Jenny stated simply. "And he made Airborne selection, he must have been really giving it a lot of effort. I wasn't making it up when I said they have high standards."

"You coming for drinks too?"

Jenny shrugged. "Why not, but first we have to go see a man about that job, and tomorrow I've got a ride to catch for the border."

"Guess we better move on then."

Francis sat on the stands for a while watching the crowd slowly disperse as the soldiers left to change into civilian clothes for an evening of celebration. Jenny had gone to change her own clothes in the van she had been provided with as transport in order to pass through the base without raising any comments.

When she returned a few minutes later she had exchanged her pale civilian attire for green fatigues and a dark blue beret with a silver wolf's head before a gold full moon badge mounted on it.

"Nice outfit."

"Earth Force makes it's stuff simple yet effective." She adjusted her jacket. "Been a while since I wore these, I think I lost a little weight."

"They look great." Francis said, quickly back tracking. "I mean the fit, it's very good."

"Thanks." She said genuinely. "Lets go for a walk."

The set off around the edge of the parade ground to wards the base itself, Jenny leading and Francis close behind.

"So do you go undercover in the military a lot?"

"Undercover?" Jenny frowned. "Oh the uniform? No it's mine. I served in the Army for a year or two until Vic recruited my into the EIA."

"Really?"

"Of course really!" She grinned. "Good times, but the job I do now, that's something else. Not just anyone can do what I do, and when Vic Chapel explained it to me like that, made me realise that sometimes we don't know where we belong until somebody points it out."

"Any regrets?"

She didn't answer for a while. "Not one."

Francis wasn't a field agent, but he knew Jenny well enough to spot a lie. He chose not to press it.

Jenny walked to the guard post and showed the man on duty her ID card, then written permission from the base Colonel to allow Francis entry. With a nod and a salute the guard opened a gate and let them both into the compound. It was much quieter inside with the majority of the recruits now on their way off the base towards the local drinking establishments leaving just the drill instructors moving to and fro on final errands around the camp.

"You were a Captain?" Francis noticed Jenny's shoulder ranks.

"All field agents have equivalent rank of Captain in the army." She informed. "But I made Lieutenant on my own merit, not easy in the unit I picked."

"I meant to ask what is that badge?" he gestured at the Beret. "Haven't seen that before."

"Deep recon." She answered. "I mean really deep, we were trained to vanish into the terrain for literally weeks at a time observing enemy movements without them ever knowing. We'd go right behind enemy lines, trained to land on alien worlds even and survive alone for months."

"Damn, that's got to take nerve." Francis appreciated.

"Yeah, takes a rare kind of person to do that, and also those skills are exactly what the EIA looks for in field agents. Not just me, Chapel and Director Brogan all started as Special Forces, though Chapel was less about deep recon and more wiping out whole platoons with a knife and a bad attitude."

"Like the Special Forces on vids?"

"Much, much worse than that." Jenny corrected. "Chapel's probably killed more people than nukes. You do not want him as an enemy. Best ally you could wish for, but I'd hate to be in his way."

"He doesn't like that guy Bester does he?"

"He doesn't like any Psi Cop." Jenny nodded. "Long story."

"What happened?"

Jenny shook her head. "I can't tell you, that's for Vic to share if he wants to. But the Psi corps did something that really hurt him, and if he thought he could get away with it he'd wipe out every Psi Cop in the Alliance without regret."

A pair of Corporals marched past, saluting Jenny who returned the formal acknowledgement with a professional snap of the hand and arm.

"We're nearly there, you ready for this?"

"Ready." Francis nodded.

"You don't have to do this, you can still back out, no shame." Jenny reminded.

"Nah, I need to do this. It's best for the job."

"Well alright then." Jenny nodded. "This building here."

They walked a bit more across the camp to a standard looking hut, and which point Jenny knocked on the door, opened it and stepped in followed by Francis.

They entered a small reception room with a another door leading to a small office, the door was stencilled with the name of Gunnery Sergeant Hurley, Senior Drill instructor.

Jenny knocked on the second door.

"Come on in." a voice barked.

Jenny went through first to see the Gunny stood beside his desk ramrod straight.

"Gunnery Sergeant Hurley at your service ma'am."

"As you were Sergeant." She answered. "Captain Sakai, formerly of the First Deep recce group."

"I remember Captain." Hurley smiled thinly. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Of course Sergeant."

"I remember all my best Students." Hurley barked a hoarse laugh. "Damn spooks get all my best recruits! Present company excepted."

"Been a long time Gunny." Jenny stretched her hand. "How are you?"

"Hard as stone and twice as cold." The Sergeant shook her hand. "On the job at least."

"How's Mary and the kids?"

"Sue's in college now, and Alice is in the last year of university." The Gunny said with evident pride.

"That came around quick, I remember when they were still in school."

"Now you're making me feel old Captain!"

"You can call me Jenny, I'm not on duty right now."

"Well why don't you two take a seat, drink?"

They both sat down while Hurley found a cabinet.

"I'll drink with you Gunny." Jenny confirmed. "And so will my friend."

"What do you have sir?" Francis asked a little tentatively.

"Only one drink here son." Hurley found a bottle and three glasses. "Let me introduce you to my friend Jack Daniels."

He poured three glasses and set them on the table, then sat with them. "Here's to the Force."

"The Force." Jenny and Francis repeated then took a drink. It was quite an effort for Francis to keep a straight face as the liquor attacked his taste buds.

"Well done son." The Gunny grinned. "First shot?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice to have survived the whiskey.

"Well good man for trying. Now then Jenny, this they guy you want me to put through the wringer?"

She nodded. "Just the basic techniques."

"Basic for who?" Hurley asked. "Basic infantry, basic Airborne?"

"Basic Rangers." Jenny affirmed. "Unarmed combat, marksmanship, that's all."

"No field craft? No fitness training? No infiltration and evasion in enemy territory?"

"Francis isn't going to be a field agent." Jenny said. "But we feel he could use some knowledge of how to defend himself more fully. And frankly you're the best in the business."

The Gunny gave Francis an appraising look, sizing him up and down. "You stay fit son?"

"Yes sir."

"How fit?"

"I can run five miles."

"A Ranger can run twenty with a full pack, what do you think to that?"

"I think I'm not going to be able to do that."

"Damn right." Hurley nodded. "But I guess you don't need to. We aren't turning you into a Ranger, what exactly are we turning you into?"

"Someone who can defend himself and those around him." Francis answered.

"Buy a gun."

"Guns don't always work. If it isn't in your hand it's useless."

Hurley smiled. "Smart answer, I can see he's one of yours Jenny."

"We had a little security scare earlier this year." Jenny said. "Francis did well in this incident, but he feels he could have done more if he knew some hand to hand combat techniques."

"Why don't you guys train him in house?"

"We don't have the spare resources or time." Jenny said honestly. "And like I said earlier, you're the best."

Hurley nodded and looked at Francis again.

"Ranger school is six months, but most of that is building endurance, you don't need that. I figure two weeks to give you what you need."

"Thank you sir."

"I start Ranger school in three days, taking those good enough to qualify from the latest batch of recruits across the globe and turn them into soldiers that would make Death back off and apologise for wasting their time."

"Yes sir."

"Don't think you'll be getting it easy." Hurley said. "You won't be running through fields but you will be thrown to the ground, punched, kicked and probably beaten. This is intensive training and you will not be as tough as most of these guys."

"I'm ready for it sir."

"Maybe, maybe not. Guess we'll find out in three days. You know where we're at?"

"Fort Bragg sir?"

"Don't make it a question, state it as fact, right or wrong." Hurley said. "And you're right anyway."

"We'll see you there then." Jenny stood. "Good to see you again Gunny, my best to the family."

"Likewise Captain." He stood. "And if you get bored you know we've always got space for you."

"Appreciated Gunny, and thanks for this."

"It's a little irregular, but it helps Earth and it helps a friend." Hurley nodded. "Besides, nothing like a little fresh blood." He grinned widely at Francis. "See you for hell week."

The two EIA agents made their way out and back into the open air.

"Well you're in it now." Jenny concluded.

"I'm ready."

"No one is ready for the Gunny." She replied. "But he'll teach you what you need."

"After that Dilgar agent got so close to us, and I couldn't do anything to stop him until…"

"I understand Francis, but don't mention it again." His companion chided. "I know we're safe here in the middle of an army base, but you need to get into the habit of suspecting everything."

"The Gunny teach you that?"

She shook her head. "I taught myself that after some bitter experience. Think the code team will be okay without you?"

"They can handle it for a couple of weeks, I understand the new boss is working on a new portable code cracker."

Jenny grinned. "Your little black box."

"But modernized with the latest systems, and simple enough for army liaisons to use." He paused. "In theory."

"Well I bet Heather is already planning your welcome home party." Jenny chuckled. "Nice girl."

"Yeah, yeah she is."

Jenny smiled wider "Anyway, I have a ship to catch."

"The Delphi?"

"Little smaller than that." She said happily. "So you're on your own with the Gunny, but I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Yeah, or you'll be coming back to find my in pieces."

They shared a laugh.

"We better get to the party, Dom will be waiting." Jenny stated. "You probably won't see him for a couple of months as he gets his drop wings, so make the most of it."

"Don't worry." He smiled widely. "I will."

Deskartalos Star System

Drazi Key World.

The Dilgar attack was timed to such exquisite perfection it was almost supernatural in it's planning. Everything had been accounted for, from the maximum speed of Drazi sunhawks to the distances to and from Deskartalos right down to the Hyperspace currents and projected storms and disturbances which could affect the journey. Every variable, every pattern, every eventuality. The Dilgar had turned this battle into a masterpiece of manoeuvre, unfortunately it was a game with one huge piece missing.

The ships moving into battle did not know of the fate that had befallen Jha'dur and the fact she would not be coming to their aid. Nor did they know Warleader Strokath was even now tearing through Hyperspace at dangerous speed to make it to the battle before his fellow Drazi were routed by the highly skilled ships chasing them down. Warmaster Dar'sen had his objectives and he had a perfect tactical and strategic situation unfolding exactly as predicted in front of him. Everything pointed to a flawless victory.

"Home fleet just crossed sensor range." Captain Ca'ra informed his Warmaster. "Right behind General Indriz and her retreating ships."

"Time to enter Deskartalos territory?"

"They will arrive in five minutes six seconds."

"And our time of arrival?"

"Five minutes two seconds."

Dar'sen grunted in pride. "That's how a professional does it. Sound action stations."

The Third Strike fleet had been on a rushed journey of its own. While Home fleet had defeated and then chased the biggest Drazi fleet out of Latig Dar'sen's forces had hit Fendamir and the anaemic garrison left there. The Drazi hadn't been prepared for an attack so soon there expecting Jha'dur to lead the attack and Dar'sen to act as a diversion or perform some sort of holding action. But in the Warmasters words: 'Third Strike is not a theatrical company, we attack.'

The Fendamir fleet clearly had orders not to contest the system I the face of a real attack, and had promptly fled after a brief exchange. It had surprised Dar'sen a little considering how much the Drazi sacrificed to take and hold this system in the past. The fact they gave up so easily concerned Dar'sen, it was a logical decision. If they didn't withdraw the would be trapped between two Strike Fleets and utterly destroyed, by withdrawing they could join the mass fleet gathering at Deskartalos.

It meant the Drazi were taking orders from someone who knew how to fight, and that someone had to be Stro'kath, no one else would have the nerve to abandon Drazi territory to an enemy even short term.

That had only underlined the wisdom of the attack. The Dilgar would arrive literally minutes behind the two Drazi fleets, and roughly at the same time as each other. The Drazi had no time to recover, no time to form up and no time to catch their breath before the Dilgar arrived.

Jha'dur's arrival would be extra insurance, but with these odds Dar'sen was confident the two converging fleets would be sufficient despite being quite heavily outnumbered. What they lacked in tonnage they made up for in control and discipline, something the scattered and fleeing Drazi fleets were completely bereft of.

"Drazi fleets are jumping in." Ca'ra said.

"Stand by jump engines." Dar'sen ordered. "All ships engage any targets once we arrive. This is our big chance to finish the Drazi. Do not waste it."

"In position Warmaster."

"Commence jump, fire at will."

The Drazi jump points had barely closed when a fresh set pierced their way into reality, bright funnels of blue that held darkness within their flowing and spinning lights. The two Dilgar fleets arrived in near perfect union, emerging from two different locations at roughly ninety degrees to each other. The deployment formed two sides of a square, a natural crossfire with the scattered and confused bulk of the Drazi Navy caught in the guns of the Dilgar ships.

It was the worst possible situation for Indriz, her ships were low on fuel after the chase and her crews exhausted. She hadn't even had time to deliver new orders to the fleet before the Dilgar emerged and began locking weapons onto her ships. There was no time to change formation, no time to order, no time to do much of anything. The Dilgar had them cold.

"All ships break!" She ordered desperately on fleet wide. "Regroup at Deskartolos Three, full evasive action!"

The already chaotic formation lost all semblence of order now, Indriz had effectively ordered every man for himself, a no holds barred retreat for the safety of the supply worlds defence grid. Some units stuck together for mutual support but in most cases the ships just bolted and began to string out the Drazi fleet as faster ships lurched ahead of slower ones.

For the Dilgar it could not have been better. They couldn't catch the smaller and faster ships but they could shred the now unsupported larger Drazi ships labouring to accelerate out of the closing vice of the two enemy fleets. It was going to be yet another example of Dilgar precision firing and some useful target practice.

Fighters raced forward armed with missiles, ignoring the mostly fleeing Drazi fighters and making straight for the warships. The Dilgar fleets quickly deployed into the best firing positions, made final tracking corrections and then opened fire.

The barrage was as devastating as expected, the heavy Dilgar guns smashing their way through the Drazi armour and turning their ships inside out. Waves of bright orange light illuminated space as Drazi ships exploded or burned brightly under the attack. Puffs of white atmosphere jetted from damaged ships, vessels spun aimlessly as they lost engines or main power, others simply ceased to be after a direct hit, reduced to pieces no bigger than postage stamps.

All the Dilgar had to do was fire into the mass of ships, there was no concerns about defence or counter attack or any need for clever tactics. They just fired again and again and again. Long barrelled bolt cannons slid back violently under their recoil launching orange spheres of particles towards their targets. Laser beams danced from ship to ship in a long continuous touch, raking back and forth until the safety systems forced the weapon to shut down and cool off. The banks of missiles hoarded during early battles were now fired in droves, bursting in nuclear flashed amid the light Drazi ships sowing much destruction.

The Drazi response was mixed, some tried to respond, sweeping about in uncoordinated attacks on the Dilgar that were easily swatted aside but most followed directions and kept running. Nimble Thoruns weaved in and out of the Turmoil blasting away at targets of opportunity with impunity, there was little that could adequately fight them.

The Drazi fleet was slowly dissolving in fire.

That situation changed in the blink of an eye.

"Jump points forming Warmaster."

Dar'sen frowned. "First strike fleet isn't due for at least a day yet."

"Located on our flank, less then I'd expect from a strike fleet."

"It's the Drazi." Dar'sen said.

"Sensor returns are being analysed." Captain Ca'ra reported.

"That's not necessary, it's him." The Warmaster stated grimly. "SO be it, if that is the battle fate wants us to fight then we will embrace it."

"Confirmed Warmaster, Drazi assault fleet."

"It's Stro'kath." Dar'sen instinctively knew. "SO much the better, I'd hate to leave him running around out here. Signal Home Fleet, Captain Tor'han will continue pursuing the main Drazi force, hut them down and kill them. We'll handle these new arrivals."

"Aye sir."

"The order all ships to redeploy for a stand up fight, formation number Six. Recall fighters and arm weapons for an alpha strike. Time to put this troublesome Drazi in his place."

Warleader Stro'kath treated the scene with disdain, the sight of hundreds of Drazi ships running for safety made his blood boil, especially as that safety was imagined. The Dilgar would tear them apart as they fled, then finish off whoever was left when they reached the supply world, by which point they would barely have enough ships left to make it more than a mopping up job for the Dilgar.

Stro'kaths own fleet was a formidable force, but did not total more than about a quarter or a third of the total Drazi force, Indriz had far more ships than him and the seemingly uncommanded Fendamir garrison was almost of similar size. Almost every combat ship in the Drazi fleet was here, herded by the Dilgar to a battlefield of their choosing and caught in a deadly trap. If left alone to continue on this path the Drazi Navy would be totally defeated.

"Wide band transmission Captain, I wish to speak to all ships."

His aide flicked a switch and nodded.

"Drazi ships, warriors of Zhabar, I am Warleader Stro'kath, commander of the Drazi armed forces and inheritor of our great tradition of struggle and courage. I am assuming command of this fleet and issuing new orders. Come about and attack!"

He didn't have time to set up a strategy, but he did have the advantage of numbers and while it wasn't elegant he hoped it would be enough to bludgeon the Dilgar into submission.

"All ships will turn and you will attack. Swarm them! Close to point blank range and split their fire! Attack, with everything you have, Attack. For all Drazi, for all we are and all we hold dear, attack!"

"Third Strike fleet is turning toward."

"Then we will meet them!" Stro'kath snarled, his blood fired. "This is the time to throw all we have at them, either we win or we die gloriously!"

The old Warleader allowed his calm exterior to slip and embraced the warriors lust for battle that dwelled in his core.

"Full attack speed, divide by assault squadrons, close the range and attack! Split them up and overwhelm them!"

"Sir, this is Warmaster Dar'sen we face, he is probably ready for us."

"Probably, but we will engage him none the less and keep him tied up long enough for the rest of the fleet to recover. It may cost us our lives Captain, but if we spend them wisely and buy time for our allies numbers will win us this battle."

"Understood sir."

"It is not a clever or complex plan, it is attrition, and we can lose ships faster than they can." Stro'kath admitted. "We hit each other with all we have and see who breaks first."

The hull thrummed beneath his feet as power surged throughout the Sunhawk, pushing the diminutive but potent warship once more into action. The rest of his fleet, the pride of the Drazi, the greatest pilots, Captains and crews the Freehold had ever borne into battle followed their leader without hesitation into the teeth of the deadliest Commander and most lethal fleet the Freehold had ever battled.

The battle now began in earnest.

"Stro'kath's fleet is charging us head on." Ca'ra said. "He's going too fast to break, he won't turn away this time."

"No he won't, this is his decisive battle." Dar'sen observed. "He has too much at stake, everything his riding on victory here. If he fails it will cost him his life anyway. He has nothing to lose, so he will fight like a mythical warrior to either win or die a legendary death." Dar'sen grinned. "At their core all Drazi are the same, even someone like Stro'kath, but he was wise enough to put us in this position before unleashing his ships with such fury."

"The rest of the Drazi fleet is starting to come about, Tor'han is slowing to meet them."

"Inspired by their leaders courage." The Warmaster acknowledged. "Yes, this Stro'kath knows how to wage war. He knows he can't control this fleet, it is too chaotic and we would not let them disengage to form up. SO instead he hopes to hammer us with numbers, trusting the fury of his people to carry the day over discipline."

"An act of desperation."

"But calculated to occur at exactly the right time to do the most damage, when our two fleets can't support each other. We must engage Stro'kath, his fleet is ordered and skilled and we can't let it turn one of our flanks. It is a greater threat then the larger mass of Drazi ships. We must beat him quickly and aide Tor'han, for all his skill he is heavily outnumbered and alone will be overrun. We do this quickly, load every Nuclear missile we have. No compromises Captain, this fleet is the deadliest instrument of destruction for lightyears around, time to earn that reputation."

Indriz's fleet turned under fire, losing scores of ships in the torrent of Dilgar weaponry. Burnt out wrecks marked the path of the battle and formed a long curve as the Drazi turned to face their tormentors. They raced forward into a storm of nuclear missiles, laser fire and bolters

The losses were immense as the Dilgar gunners focused everything on their enemies, the full destructive power of the Home Fleet concentrated down onto a few hundred square miles of front. The Drazi raced on, roaring in defiance at the destruction, praising the fallen and cursing their enemies. They were in a frenzy, advancing no matter what. Months of losses, of conflicting orders, retreat after retreat. All that time seeing ships burn, comrades killed and whole worlds burned to ash by orbital strikes. The sum grief and pain of a whole species was no focused and released in one place at one time, and these ships were to be the avatar of that sadness and vengeance.

Several waves worth of ships were blown to pieces, but each wave made it closer than the last until finally the two forces met in a sudden tidal wave of destruction. The Drazi ships seared by leaving trails of smoke, areas of their hull glowing white hot from their proximity to explosions.

They weaved through the Drazi fleet opening fire with their bright yellow beams and what missiles they had left and Dilgar ships began dying. But Tor'han was no fool and his ships had deployed in tight mutually supportive squadrons. The Drazi that penetrate dhis lines were stormed on from all sides by secondary guns, and the brave first few were rapidly sent to join their comrades in the world beyond.

Stro'kath's fleet was more ordered, moving at the same speed and holding its formation until the last minute. With a final word of release from their leader the fleet broke, accelerated beyond safe levels and pushed furiously at their most hated enemies. It was a sight to chill the blood, a sky full of Drazi ships bearing down on the Dilgar fleet with no sense of self preservation or mercy, just a righteous fury and a desire to spill blood.

Dar'sen watched them come in silence, taking a moment to appreciate the glory of the spectacle, the sheer courage of his enemy and the forlorn magnificence of charging a Strike Fleet head on. He closed his eyes and inclined his head ever so slightly in an almost imperceptible salute, then returned his gaze to Captain Ca'ra at the station before him.

"Fleet wide order, open fire."

The Strike Fleet offered the Drazi fleet the welcome they deserved, energy weapons casting a red and orange glow across the front of the Dilgar lines as they lanced out like a series of thin lines and dashes connecting one side with the other. Missiles were ejected from their bays and tubes in a puff of gas before their motors initialised in a stream of ions or plasma. Every item of destruction Dar'sen had was primed, aimed and fired at Stro'kath, a truly awesome display of Dilgar military power.

The effects were catastrophic, Drazi ships were snatched away in a heartbeat by gunfire or stripped by Nuclear energy. Wrecked skeletal shapes floated among the active warships, vessels that had lost most of their hull plates to area effect weapons and were now faint shadows of their previous glory.

Following ships rushed through the maelstrom, barging through damaged or ruined hulls and passing through the fading traces of the Nuclear strikes, the radioactive elements bombarding their ships of no concern to the frenzied warriors within. They were already dead, radiation poisoning was just a pointless joke.

Losses were staggering, but so fast was the fleet moving that the Dilgar did not have as long to engage them as Dar'sen expected.

"They are coming in far too fast." Ca'ra announced. "At that speed they won't be able to make any course changes without breaking up."

Dar'sen could hear a warning at the back of his head. "How many ships at that speed?"

"The whole fleet sir."

"That's suicidal." The Warmaster shook his head. "With their close formation, and our close formation there isn't space to pass around each other." His eyes widened. "Oh by the gods."

"They're not going to even try to break off are they?"

"All ships take immediate evasive action!" Dar'sen ordered. "Open the lines, spread out!"

"It has to be a bluff!" Ca'ra yelled. "You can't throw away a whole fleet in a ramming attack!"

"If it removes an enemy Striike fleet? At that price? I would, and so would Stro'kath."

He fire slackened as the Dilgar ships made emergency turns and opened a hole for the Drazi to pass through, but even after ten seconds Dar'sen could see it wasn't going to be enough.

"Emergency jump protocol!" Dar'sen roared. "Get us out of his way!"

The dispersing Dilgar ships began opening up vortexes, the Drazi virtually on top of them. Some were close enough to get caught in the formation of a few jump points, reducing them to component atoms scattered across billions of miles of immaterium. The rest ploughed on, past the vortexes, through the weapons fire and into the midst of the Dilgar fleet.

While Dilgar ships were larger, tougher and more armoured that their Drazi equivalents Stro'kath's fleet was moving fast enough to make it a moot point. The leading ships shattered into a million pieces when they made contact, breaking up a row of Dilgar cruisers in a bright flash of immolating metal. Several were blown to pieces by Dilgar firepower, but more and more slipped through the rapidly withdrawing fleet and smashed their way through their targets.

It was the ultimate expression of attrition, alone one Sunhawk had no chance of destroying a Dilgar battle cruiser, but now by ramming said ship they could guarantee an instant kill. In either case the Drazi crew was dead, but this way they took some major Dilgar units with them. It seemed like a waste of life, but considering the losses Stro'kath would have taken in a conventional fight with Dar'sen this ironically worked out more effectively.

But the Dilgar were not content to stay in place and let Stro'kath have his way. Dar'sen's quick reaction managed to get most of his ships to safety, sidestepping into hyperspace to avoid the assault. As his flagship transition realities Dar'sen noticed Stro'kath's warship itself passing the area of space Dar'sen had been occupying. The Warmaster allowed a slightly amused scoff at the temerity of the Drazi commander.

"Most of the fleet has transitioned." Ca'ra said. "We have taken minimal losses."

"Plot the course of Stro'kathss fleet, I suspect it will also intersect Tor'han's forces."

The aide called up a quick graph and plotted a line on it. "Confirmed, he'll hit the home fleet in four minutes."

"And they are heavily engaged with the main Drazi force. Stro'kath will hit them on a flank where their guns are weak, they can't turn to engage him without becoming vulnerable to General Indriz, and they are already grossly outnumbered."

"And sir, the Drazi are still accelerating, byt the time they arrive they'll be crossing through weapons range in less than a minute."

"Not enough time to shoot them down anyway." Dar'sen said. "What I wouldn't give for another fleet right now, not even a Strike fleet! Just anything!"

"Our jump engines will recharge in twelve minutes."

"Tor'han will be dead in five, and we can't lose a fleet as powerful and loyal as his."

Dar'sen weighed up the options, looked for a solution but did not find one. "We don't have a way around this, not without additional reinforcements."

"Perhaps if we regroup Warmaster, return in an hour?"

"We still wouldn't have the firepower to shoot dead every Drazi ship before it rammed us. They'd sacrifice their whole navy to beat us, hard to stop fanaticism like that without a full magazine of Nukes, and we've expended all ours."

"So we wait for Jha'dur?"

"I don't think even that will help, we'll need more ships than that. We'd need all our Strike fleets." Dar'sen shook his head. "We cannot achieve our objectives, signal Tor'han to withdraw the home fleet immediately. We return to Tithalis."

"That's it then sir?"

"That's it Captain, but don't sound so disappointed. We've held our ground and counter attacked, and reduced the Drazi fleet to a fraction of its size. Whatever they do next they don't have the strength to launch a new offensive against us, and we will reinforce our front long before they rebuild theirs. Time Captain, is on our side."

"Orders sent Warmaster."

"It wasn't our day Captain, but at least we withdraw with the bulk of our fleet intact." Dar'sen stated plainly. "In the long term those ships could be worth their weight in gold."

Stro'kath watched from a distance as the Dilgar Home fleet opened Vortexes mid battle and fled, taking a good number of nearby ships with them. Some Drazi were eager enough that they followed them into hyperspace before the jump points closed, but mostly they found themselves in open space with nothing to shoot, their anger suddenly cooling.

"Reduce engine power." Stro'kath ordered. "Slow us down carefully, It seems today is not our day to die."

"Helm answering, the rest of the fleet is responding."

Stro'kath nodded at the information. "Signal home world, tell them the Dilgar are in retreat, but we are unable to pursue."

"We are letting them go Warleader?"

"We have no choice, our fuel reserves are virtually non existent, these ships were not built to cross the whole Freehold twice and then fight a battle at the end of it." The Warleader laughed. "I expect we have travelled further on this campaign than any other Drazi fleet in history!"

"Sir, I have General Indriz on the line."

"Very well." Stro'kath allowed. "General, I am fairly pleased you are alive."

"Good to hear your voice Warleader, my fleet is now yours."

He detected more than a hint of relief in her voice, she just wasn't cut out for command and it was only circumstance that had put her in charge. Those circumstances being the death of every other General in the fleet within the last month or two.

"I accept command General, stand your ships down and recover any survivors."

"Warleader, I assumed we would be giving chase?" Indriz questioned. "Following the Dilgar to their bases and defeating them."

"Our ships are running on residue General, we couldn't make it across to Fendamir, let alone Latig or Tithalis."

"Why don't we resupply from the dump on Deskartalos?"

"There is no dump." Stro'kath answered.

"Sir?" Indriz was clearly confused.

"Every resource we had was tied into your grand offensive. There is no reserve, Deskartalos is dry General."

"So why did we fight here and not Fendamir or Latig?"

"Because this is for behind our lines and the Dilgar would be stretched thin trying to reach us. If we'd have fought closer we'd have Jha'dur to deal with, and we'd have lost."

"So this battle was a bluff?"

"A complete bluff." Stro'kath confirmed. "The whole of the Freehold has enough fuel and munitions for about half an hour of intense battle, half an hour General. If the Dilgar come back tomorrow we won't be able to stop them. That's we we're going to have to resort to ramming attacks. We can't last in a straight fight long enough to do damage."

"Droshalla's flame, I had no idea we came so close!" Indriz gasped.

"Let's hope the Dilgar are also fooled." The old Drazi grunted. "Because right now the Hurr could beat us, if Deathwalker left any of them alive."

He was not confident of that fact.


	59. Chapter 59

58

Eridani system

Earth Alliance/Markab border

December 19th, 2231

"Good luck on your hunt Commander." Paul Calendar said with an eager smile. "Give them hell."

The Balosian cruiser Seffensa began powering its jump engines, it's hold filled with extra capacitors and charging chambers for its plasma cannons, unmarked gifts from the Earth Alliance.

"We will Captain Calendar." The slightly reptilian hiss of the ships commander confirmed with amusement. "A colourful turn of phrase, I like it."

"I bet the Dilgar won't." Paul grinned. "Good fortune Commander, and we'll see you next month."

"Good fortune to you Captain, and to all who oppose the demons."

The Balosian vessel made its jump point and vanished into the golden waves of light and energy, the vortex collapsing into infinity behind it.

"Demons?" Toby asked for clarification.

"The Dilgar." Paul replied. "The Balosians consider them Sky Demons who rained terror on their planet."

"What, really?"

"Well they know they came from Omelos and used Mass Drivers and Virus bombs to do their dirty work, and they know they are flesh and blood, but I think they had some prophecy and the religious guys think these Dilgar are part of it, hence demons."

"I never really considered the Balosians really religious." Jenny said from the gunnery station to Paul's right. "Not like the Markab, more of a practical race."

"I guess everyone gets religious when you have Armageddon happening outside your front door." Paul shrugged. "It's like the end of the world for them, total extinction along with fire and brimstone. Amazing they've still got the nerve to keep fighting when their planet is on its last thread of survival."

"Wouldn't you?" Jenny asked seriously.

"I don't know, never really thought about it."

"I would." Jors said from the pilots station. "If I was the last man alive I'd try and kill whoever finished the rest of us."

"You always had that Valhalla thing going on." Toby laughed. "Last of the Vikings right here on this ship!"

"Cut it out Toby." Paul said calmly. "Earth won't get to that stage."

"Maybe, maybe not. You know the Dilgar are two jumps from here." Toby reminded the crew unnecessarily. "Wouldn't take much for them to get here."

"It would take the Markab." Jors stated. "Not such an easy task."

"Markab can fight like men possessed." Paul agreed. "But that won't help them against a disciplined and ruthless Dilgar fleet. They'll suck them into a trap and massacre them. If they want Markab they'll have no problem taking it."

"Except that then brings Earth into the war against them." Toby pointed out.

"You really believe that'll happen?" Jors raised a mocking eyebrow. "Half the Senate want peace at any price, they hate the fact we even have a Navy."

Toby turned in his seat. "Come on Jenny, you know this stuff, would we go to war?"

"That's up to the Senate." She answered. "But the President can make an emergency decision if necessary, though the Senate has to ratify it later."

"So if the Dilgar crossed our border in force, the President could order our ships into battle without Senate approval?" Toby asked

"Yeah, it could take days for the Senate to decide, and we can't afford that sort of time delay. In an emergency he can make an Executive decision."

"So if the Dilgar hit Markab, would that count as an emergency?" Jors wondered.

"It might, but the Senate would still have to confirm it later, and if they thought he overstepped his bounds they could impeach and remove him and seek a cease fire, or recall the ships."

"That wouldn't surprise me." Paul huffed.

"The Senate is pretty practical," Jenny assured. "If the Dilgar show up on our border waving nukes I think they'd make the right decision."

Paul shook his head. "I wish I had your confidence, but after all that's happened and they have done nothing, I don't trust they even know what the right thing is anymore."

"They have to represent the people, and the people don't want a war. They don't want to send sons and daughters to die unless Earth itself is threatened."

"If they knew the truth about the Dilgar they would want to stop them."

"It's up to the people." Jenny said as answer.

"Democracy sucks." Toby grunted.

"It's the worst form of government in the Galaxy." Jenny stated. "Apart from every other type there is."

Their conversation was cut short by a beep from Toby's station.

"It's a jump point." He checked the sensor data.

"Nothing's registered to arrive until this evening." Jenny ran the more sensitive EIA provided scanners over the area.

"Refugee ship?" Jors asked.

"Not with it's own jump point, they would use the gate." Paul figured out. "Better open a line to Eridani Station."

Toby flicked a few switches, each one creating a growing frustration. "I can't get a clear channel, long range communications are being jammed."

"Oh this is great." Paul let his head roll back in his head rest. "Just how our luck runs, we're in EA space and we still get trouble!"

"Vortex forming." Toby warned. "Got some ships, power curve indicates military vessels."

The light of the jump point was just about visible from the windows of the flight deck, spilling a group of tiny dots into normal space far ahead of the Space Race.

"Jenny?"

"Getting a profile." She ran the military grade sensors over the new ships. She concentrated intensely on the data until suddenly her whole mood lightened. "Relax, they aren't Dilgar."

"Well thank heaven for that." Paul exhaled. "Who are they?"

"Mix of League ships, Abbai, Hyach, Brakiri, few smaller ships I can't identify. And this one, it's Alacan."

"Alacan? Weren't they the first to fall to the Dilgar?" Toby asked.

"Over three years ago." Jors confirmed. "And they've been running ever since."

"Well I think it's obvious what happens next." Paul stated. "Lets go say hello."

As the freighter drew closer they had time to gather more detailed information on the League ships, a mix of warships and freighters that had survived the various disasters of Dilgar invasion.

"I'm only reading two Cruisers." Jenny reported. "And fourteen frigate sized ships, mix of Abbai vessels and a group I haven't seen before. I'd guess a smaller League power."

"The rest are freighters, cargo haulers, a Brakiri economic liner, couple of small Descari ships." Toby added. "Not much of a fleet."

"They survived this long." Jors remarked. "That takes something more than luck."

"How are short ranged comms?" Paul asked.

"We're close enough to use them through he jamming." Toby hoped. "Ready when you are."

"League vessels, this is Paul Calendar of the independent Earth Freighter Space Race. Welcome to Eridani."

There was a crackle as the automated translators got to work before an answer returned.

"Captain, I think this has to be some sort of open. Good to see you again."

Paul frowned as he wracked his memory. "Captain…Cashik isn't it?"

"Well remembered Captain, I remember your ship from Utriel."

"And I remember you, we owe you our lives for that escape Captain."

"It was our duty, and privilege to help."

The Race fell in alongside the League ships, now close enough to positively identify the Abbai cruiser as the Syontar, its name plaque scorched and unreadable through battle damage.

"I can't speak for my government," Paul said. "But I think you will be given sanctuary here in Earth Space from the Dilgar."

"Thank you, but we do not seek sanctuary, we have a mission." Cashik answered. "We have asked for a meeting on Earth, but we do not know if our message got through."

"Jenny?" Paul looked across.

"I don't know, might have come through while we were on this job. Or they might not have told me, we still have a need to know thing going on."

"Captain," Paul spoke up again. "If you'd like to cut your jamming we'll get a message to Eridani station and inform them of your arrival."

"That's not us." Cashik answered apologetically. "I'm afraid we are not alone."

Once again, perfectly on cue, Toby's station flashed a warning. "Multiple jump points."

"It is them." Cashik sighed. "I'm sorry for bringing this to your doorstep, but we are out of choices."

The vortexes burst open and from their maws issued forth the all too familiar green curves and blades of a Dilgar battle squadron.

"They picked us up in hyperspace as we left Markab." Cashik continued. "We could not shake them, I am sorry."

"It's alright Captain." Paul said grimly. "They're in Earth Space now, they just made it our business."

The Dilgar force spread out and formed into an attack posture focuse don the League vessels, and the Space Race.

"I'm reading six heavy cruisers and eighteen frigates." Jenny spoke bitterly. "The League ships don't stand a chance."

"They've been chasing us all across League space." Cashik added information. "We have the last free Ambassadors of the League in this fleet, the only voice our people have left, and the Dilgar are determined to silence us."

"Start getting some distance Captain." Paul said. "You can't fight these odds, try to escape."

"We'll try, but we can only run as fast as our slowest freighter, they will catch us."

"Then I'll try and buy you a head start, get going." Paul said. "Make for Eridani station, they've got enough firepower to hold off a fleet three times this size. Get there as fast as you can."

"Thank you for this Captain." Cashik said.

"You helped us at Utriel, now we get to repay the favour." Paul replied. "See you at Eridani."

The League ships powered up and began to move, engines glowing brightly as the warships moved to the rear to cover the lightly armed liners and freighters crammed with refugees and the Ambassadors.

Behind them the Dilgar were also accelerating.

"Captain," Toby announced simply. "I didn't want to say it with the Abbai on the line, but if you're talking about taking on the Dilgar single handed, I'm going to quit."

"Toby, don't be a moron." Paul smiled grimly. "Just open a channel."

"Okay, any time."

"Dilgar ships, this is Earth Territory." Paul announced using his best serious voice. "You ar enot authorised to be here, turn around and leave."

Toby shook his head. "No response."

"Your continued presence here is a violation of inter stellar law, and if you fire on ships within Earth space it will be considered an act of war."

Paul of course had no authority to decide what was or wasn't an act of war, but he hoped the Dilgar didn't know that.

"Still nothing." Toby reported.

"Dilgar ships, respond."

"New contacts." Jenny warned. "They're launching fighters."

"Guess we weren't threatening enough." Paul said with obvious disappointment. "Well that leaves plan B."

"Which is?" Toby asked.

"The usual Plan B, run away." Paul answered. "Jors, go."

The Space Race made a sharp turn and then accelerated, its high grade engines giving it a surprising turn of speed. The little freighter could happily outrun the Dilgar warships, but the fighters were going to be an issue.

"Spin up interceptors." Paul ordered. "You good for this Jenny?"

"It's oddly familiar." She half smiled. "I was wondering what was missing from a trip with you guys, and here it is. Getting chased by Dilgar. Now it's a real Paul Calendar mission."

"I wouldn't want to disappoint." He chuckled despite the situation. "Jors, slot us in with the Abbai ships."

"You know we could run all the way to Eridani and get out of this without a scratch." Jors said.

"I know, but we have a debt to pay."

"Good." The pilot grunted. "I was hoping we could find a way to pay back Cashik."

"We'll help thin out those Dilgar fighters, then intercept the biggest incoming weapons fire." Paul said. "But we need some serious help out here, we can't take a fleet that size."

"I can't get through to Eridani or the patrol ships." Toby said in exasperation.

"Well what about the Balosians?" Jenny suggested. "They can't be more than ten minutes away, and they've got the ships and power to turn this fleet to junk."

"But how do we get past the jamming?"

"We don't, they do." Paul pointed at the nearing League ships. "Open a channel."

Captain Cashik monitored the closing distance between the Dilgar and her own charges. They couldn't run, couldn't win in a fight, they didn't even have the numbers to ram them and take out the big ships the hard way. It looked like their journey was over just before the finish line.

"Message from the Earth Freighter ma'am." Officer Shusa reported from the Communication terminal.

"Let me hear it."

"Captain," the human translated voice spoke. "We might have a plan, how are your jump engines?"

"They need another five minutes." Cashik answered. "But I have a Hyach Logistics cruiser fully charged."

"It has a jump engine?"

"The Hyach like to keep their options open." The Abbai smiled. "What did you have in mind?"

"We just had a meeting with the Free Balosians, they left for Bestine to hit Dilgar supply lines no more than three minutes before you arrived."

"I've heard of them."

"If the hyach ship can catch up with them, evade the jammers, it could bring them back here." Paul said. "they would be the ships we need to win!"

"They would come back?"

"It's a chance to kill Dilgar, they'd take it in a heartbeat." Paul confirmed. "Give them my name, we've got a bond of trust."

"Alright, but even at full speed we're going to have to hold out for fifteen minutes at least." Cashik said.

"Just keep running and hope they don't catch up in time." The human stated. "We'll help cover you."

"Then I look forward to fighting beside you, good luck Captain. Syontar out."

The orders were relayed and the bulk form of the Hyach ship pulled away and then opened a jump point away from its comrades, racing now against time to bring back help. The rest of the force held their course for the distant safety of the Earth Force Orion class military station and the ring of defence satellites around the planet.

"Dilgar fighters approaching in two groups." Jenny watched her screens. "One dead astern, one moving in from above."

"Focus on the group astern, it'll pass closest to us." Paul settled down to business. "The League will have to handle the others."

"Hangar bays across the fleet are opening, they are deploying fighters."

"Let's hope it's enough." Paul nodded sincerely. "Fourteen minutes to go."

The League fighters were a motley assortment of Abbai, Hyach, Brakiri, Alacan and a pair of Cascan Starskaters. Of all the various craft only the two Cascan fighters could realistically compete on even terms with a Dilgar Thorun, and only Tullaq actually had earned combat time against the Dilgar fighter command.

"Stay close to the unarmed ships." Tullaq ordered. "The warships can protect themselves. Do not chase them, if you get more than a hundred miles from the fleet turn back because they're leading you into a trap."

She twisted the nimble bronze coloured fighter around the lumbering transports and lined up on the incoming Dilgar Dart fighters.

"Fourteen minutes." She set her clock to count down the Cascan equivalent of the human measurement. This was not going to be easy.

"Dilgar are in range." Jenny said in a fast clear tone well practiced across military officers in the Force. "Enemy fighters locking on."

"Let 'em have it." Paul demanded with relish.

Outside the eight interceptor batteries snapped into place and began firing blue/white pulses of complex energy at the Dilgar fighters. The first few exploded before registering the attack so fast and precise was Jenny's gunnery. The rest took immediate evasive action but the quick tracking turrets followed their every twist and turn bracketing their possible course options and shooting them into a corner. More fighters died.

A few moments later the Abbai ships engaged with their own point defences, banks of quad turrets chugging orange plasma in vast quantities towards the Thoruns. While not as accurate or fast firing as the interceptors they balanced the fact with sheer volume of fire.

"They're pulling out of range to regroup." Toby read from the main sensor panel. "Second group closing."

"Hold here." Paul ordered. "We can't be in two places at once, and we need to be ready to intercept warship fire too. If any get close Jenny…"

"They'll regret it." The agent finished.

"Toby, watch those other fighters." Paul concluded. "Twelve minutes."

Tullaq let the first fighter get to half range before firing, guaranteeing a direct hit. With satisfaction she watched the Thorun transform from dull grey to bright flame. All around her the other League pilots began engaging, taking a better than expected toll on the Dilgar.

"Break by flight." She ordered. "Engage freely but be aware of your surroundings, go!"

The mix of League craft advanced to give battle, something the Dilgar were glad to embrace. The Brakir fighters died in seconds as they strayed into the guns of a Dilgar squadron. An Abbai fighter was winged, its shield the only thing saving it from total destruction. Elsewhere a trio of Hyach fighters tore through a Dilgar flight with their laser cannons, an unusually powerful weapon for a League fighter.

The Dilgar absorbed the losses and came on, rolling past the worst of the League fire and replying with deadly accuracy destroying another half dozen League craft. The pilots were fighting with utter conviction and bravery, but compared to the Dilgar they were still amateurs and all the courage in the galaxy wasn't going to help them.

The two Cascan fighters skipped across the hull of the Brakiri liner and rolled hard chasing down a pair of thoruns. The Dilgar fighters strafed one of the Descari refugee ships that had joined them before Tullaq found her shot and destroyed the lead craft, her wingman just seconds behind on the next Dilgar.

Straight away they had to take evasive actions as more Dilgar fighters arrived seemingly from nowhere and opened fire, peppering space around them with bright weapons fire. The Cascor pilots dived and spun in an effort to throw off their attackers as Tullaqs clock reached ten minutes.

The flight deck of the Space Race yelled in danger as warning lights flicked on everywhere.

"Enemy Frigates in range and locking on!" Toby yelled.

"Jenny?"

"Computers got it!" she shouted in return. "Auto tracking is responding to enemy weapons."

The interceptors now switched to defensive fire tracking the incoming energy bolts from the Dilgar warships. However with just eight turrets there was only a limited amount the crew could do.

"Fighters coming up again!" Toby warned.

"Stay on defensive fire." Paul decided. "The Frigates are more of a threat."

Beside them the Syontar took a pair of hits, its shields rippling as the energy dispersed over them. In return it fired its point defenses on the Thorun squadrons, snatching away a handful of fighters. Unfortunately the cruisers main guns were forward facing, to engage the Frigates she'd have to turn and by the time she did Cashik would be staring down the barrels of six heavy cruiser that outgunned her one on one.

The Thoruns rushed past and splayed out amid the warships firing as they went. Two of them strafed the Race, shuddering the hull.

"Armour is holding!" Toby reported. "They're coming around again!"

"Stay defensive!" Paul told Jenny. "Brace yourselves and take the hit!"

Tullaq had to bite her lip as an Abbai pilot misjudged her turn and flew into the side of the hulking Brakiri ship, exploding instantly and punching a breach in the hull. The Dilgar were doing a good enough job of massacring them without relying on the League pilots own foolish mistakes.

She fell in behind two more Dart fighters, expertly destroying one while the other flew into a storm of fire from the Syontar and failed to emerge from the other side.

"All fighters, consolidate, regroup at the Pyrotinia!"

By this time there wasn't a whole lot of craft to respond, only the Alacans seemed to have faired moderately well losing just three of their number. Clearly Commander Lelant had trained his people well.

The Dilgar were close behind, skirting the point defences of the warships to finish the fighters directly.

The battle intensified as the various combatants gathered closer together, the fighters having less space to manoeuvre in the middle of the League ships concentrate on attack neglecting defence. It cost the Dilgar more lives but allowed them to reduce the League fighters at an alarming rate. A Mitoc Frigate suddenly exploded after taking a direct hit to the engines, overloading in a shock of fire and wreckage.

"Keep together!" Tullaq ordered, seeing from her peripheral vision the human freighter taking more hits from Dilgar fighters as it protected the heart of the fleet from weapons fire. "Not long now!" She checked her clock, then checked again in disbelief. They still had five minutes to wait. They would not last that long.

"More fighters behind us." Her wingman warned.

"Ready to engage!"

She slid the nose around, a fey mood descending on her. If this was to be her last battle she'd make sure the Dilgar at least remembered it. That mood chilled in a heartbeat as the reported fighters raced past, a design totally unfamiliar to her.

"Huh," She grunted. "Those are new."

Paul wiped his hand across his brow, leaving a long trace of red blood on the back of his hand. "Ah hell."

"You okay Paul?" Jenny asked with deep concern evident on her face.

"Just a graze, where are they?"

"Coming around again." Toby said.

"I can't afford to take a single interceptor off task." Jenny said. "We're directly behind the unarmed League ships, the Dilgar only need two or three good hits to kill them."

"Time?"

"Five minutes." Toby answered despondently. "I don't think we'll hold together that long, we've already got hull plates splitting."

"Getting splashed by Dilgar." Paul considered. "You know I'm not even going to pretend to be surprised."

"I hear Valhalla is nice this time of year." Jors mentioned. "I think you all qualify for an invitation."

"Here they come again." Toby mentioned. "We can take maybe three or four more passes."

The Thoruns lined up on the Race and came in fast, but just before firing suddenly broke off and turned hard out of the way, sweeping behind the freighter and away from the League ships.

"What is that?" Paul frowned, "A joke?"

"Better." Jenny grinned. "Cavalry."

The Dilgar fighters had turned away to avoid a collision with a trio of newly arrived craft, unlovely looking grey craft in an 'X' configuration that passed through the League fleet and took station at the back.

"Holy…" Paul grinned as wide as he ever had. "Starfuries."

"All channels transmission," Toby was also beaming. "You'll want to hear this."

He transferred it to speakers for the benefit of the whole crew.

"This is the Earth Alliance ship Temeraire to Dilgar vessels, you are violating Earth space and will stand down and withdraw at once."

Paul's similar message had fallen on deaf ears, but with a battery of plasma cannons and an official remit from the government the Dilgar would have to take this ship a lot more seriously.

"They've actually ceased fire!" Toby laughed.

"But they aren't pulling back, just recalling fighters." Jenny pointed out. "They're redeploying for a stand up fight."

"This is your only warning." The Earth Force Captain continued. "You are conducting an act of war in Earth Space and if you do not withdraw I am authorised to use deadly force."

Finally the ship came into view facing towards the Dilgar, the long grey hull of an Earth force cruiser glinting with pale hull plates and blue bands framing its name. Beneath the name was the more than welcome emblem of the Alliance in blue and gold.

"They aren't backing down are they?" Paul said in realisation, his elation quickly vanishing.

"I don't think they are." Jenny replied in a similar tone. "They are getting ready to attack."

The Temeraire came to a relative halt behind the League ships placing itself between them and the Dilgar, the six Furies falling in ahead of the cruiser.

"It's the Persephone all over again." Toby groaned. "One ship can't stop all those alone."

"They aren't alone, look." Jenny pointed.

Falling in beside the Starfuries came Tullaq, lining up the remaining League craft around the human fighters. Likewise the Syontar, Pyrotinia and the Mitoc frigates were turning and slipping into a cover formation alongside the Earth Warship, a unified line opposing the Dilgar.

The green ships slowed their advance, pausing to consider this new scenario for a moment.

"They still have six cruisers, and six more Frigates than we do, better frigates too." Toby noted. "We're still outgunned."

"Look at your sensors again." Jenny suggested. "Temeraire isn't a Hyperion class like the Persephone was, she's a Hecate, a battlecruiser. Similar in appearance but armed with heavier guns and more armour. And we've only got three minutes until the Balosians return."

"We can hold them three minutes." Paul grinned. "We're going to win this."

The Dilgar must have had the same idea. As one the ships turned on the spot and formed jump points back into hyperspace back the way they had came. Rapidly they exited the Eridani system and left the League ships to complete their long and eventful journey.

"Damn, that Calendar luck is still going strong!" Jenny laughed out.

"For a minute there I wasn't sure." Paul admitted. "But come on, I thought we'd be safe in Earth Space!"

"Nowhere is safe with you around!" Jenny shot back. "We could be walking in New York and you'd get jumped by Deathwalker herself!"

"Yeah," Jors laughed. "Wrestled to the ground by the whole Warmaster council!"

"I bet Jha'dur is your new dentist!" Toby added to the relief fuelled fun. "You're too old for this!"

"We done now folks?" Paul asked good heartedly. "Fine, Dilgar are attracted me, I can't help it if I'm irresistible."

"It's that Catnip aftershave." Jenny winked. "Only possible explanation."

"Well sensors show the League ships heading back to Eridani station." Toby said. "And the jamming is clearing up."

"We're going to need repairs." Paul frowned. "Well so much for this fee, this old girl drinks money like Jors drinks Jovian Sunspots."

"The Temeraire is on the line again, they want us." Toby stated.

"Put them through." Paul nodded. "Captain, I'm going to nominate you for best timing ever award."

"Captain Calendar, glad we could help."

Jenny leaned over her chair. "Manny?" she wondered. "Is that you?"

"Lieutenant Sakai?" The man replied. "I was wondering what happened to you!"

"I got promoted to a different department, same job but with smarter clothes."

"Well good news, hope you're enjoying it."

"It has its days." She said back. "So they gave you a bigger ship."

"Quite a sight isn't she?" Paul could hear the smile over the radio. "Brand new, she still smells of paint and disinfectant."

"So that's what scared the Dilgar off." Jenny joked. "Better than that little Corvette you used to pull me out of Centauri space that time."

The rest of the crew turned to give her a long look. "Really long story." She shrugged.

"We'll escort you back to Eridani station." The Captain replied. "Lucky we were in the area keeping an eye on you, secret arms deals are often full of things to go wrong."

"Well thanks for the catch Manny." Jenny replied. "Will you be docking for drinks?"

He chuckled. "Love to, but I'm afraid I have patrol for the next three days. Some other time."

"Some other time." Jenny confirmed. "Take care Manny."

"Same to you, all of you. Pleasure talking Captain Calendar. Hope to see you around sometime for a proper chat."

The channel ended, and from the windows they could see the cruiser banking away to follow the League ships to Eridani station.

"So, old friends?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, from my days in Special Forces." Jenny explained. "I was on a mission to take a look at a Centauri tank factory, see wht they were made of. Manny was responsible for getting me out when the civilian ship I was meant to be hitching a lift on got hit by Raiders."

"How did he do it?" Toby wondered. "Get an Earth Force ship through Centauri space."

"You'd have to ask him." Jenny grinned. "He loves telling that story."

"What's Manny short for?" Jors asked.

"Manly." She answered. "Is full name is Manly Power."

The room was quiet for a few moments as the information sunk in.

"You made that up." Paul stated.

"I didn't, check the transponder!"

"No one in the real world is called that, Comic books maybe…"

Toby frowned. "His crew would have to call him Captain Power."

"That's just the most awesome name I have ever heard." Jors chuckled. "Damn I love it!"

"Manly Power?" Paul repeated. "Good job he joined the Force, can't see him getting a job in a supermarket with a name like that."

"You see? That's why he goes by Manny." Jenny said. "Saves people making jokes at his expense, remember he just saved our butts back there."

"Good point." Toby said. "Okay, I'll shut up. But Captain Power?"

"Toby, now the jamming is gone try and raise the Balosians." Paul said. "I expect they'll be very eager to learn there's a Dilgar fleet in the vicinity heading for home." He grinned. "They do love a good hunt."

Bestine

Dilgar Occupied

December 20th 2231

"We have a problem Brother."

Jha'dur was as direct to the point as usual in matters of war, barely pausing to embrace her last breathing relative before launching into strategic considerations. Her journey had been rather long, taking two weeks to travel from Tithalis all the way through captured League space until arriving at the Dilgar Navies new staging point at the former Descari homeworld.

The space there was rather quiet with a minimum of traffic passing back and forth. Sha'dur's second Strike Fleet had made a quick job of taking out any hostile vessels in the area smashing the Descari defences and turning back a badly timed Vree intervention. Losses to his fleet had been higher than expected, especially in the shape of bombardment ships, but his fleet was still a fearsome weapon with all of its potency.

"I hear the Drazi front has stabilised." He welcomed her to his flagship, the Conqueror.

"Its at almost exactly the same position it was six months ago before the Drazi offensive." Jha'dur replied. "Only with hundreds of thousands less people to see it. Mostly Drazi."

"No great loss then."

"But they were smart enough to burn our ready reserve of fuel, meaning we need to acquire more tankers and tenders to support an offensive into their space."

"It'll take a long time to build that many ships again, three or four hundred I would guess." Sha'dur spoke.

"Exactly, and right now all our yards are busy with warships, and next year they will be building a new design of bulk passenger ship for the evacuation of Omelos. We don't have spare capacity."

"But what we do have is three hundred tenders right here supporting this campaign." Sha'dur realised. "Ships we could move to the Drazi front in a few weeks."

"If we end the Campaign here soon." Jha'dur confirmed. "And that my Brother is our problem."

They made their way up through the ship to the well appointed conference room that usually held councils of Captains before the start of a new campaign or a battle. Today it played host to just two people.

"We've got enough support ships here to keep two Strike Fleets in action for as long as we have resources." Sha'dur informed. "If you want to run three fleets there will be shortages."

"Within acceptable levels." Jha'dur returned. "And I do not anticipate the final act of the Drazi campaign to last long, we have hurt them badly and their numbers are depleted. Even with a clever commander our victory is inevitable."

"But take them now and our rimward advance ends." The male considered. "I assume there is a plan to end this war quickly then?"

"Two plans as a matter of fact." Jha'dur chuckled. "The problem is which one we use."

"Has the council decided?"

"It will in a few minutes, we are due to participate electronically." Jha'dur stated.

"Well that will be a barrel of laughs."

The sister sighed. "The Council is not what it once was, pity really."

"Like all things, leaders change." Sha'dur considered quietly. "They will change too. So, what is this plan?"

"As you know the Vree are the last power that is opposing us in this region." Jha'dur began, nod needing to produce maps and graphs for her fellow Warmaster to perceive. "They still have a formidable fleet that will cost us to attack."

"They've stayed behind their borders since we beat them here, but their losses were only a percentage of their total force. They are indeed a threat, and proven hostile to us."

"So we need to remove them, however a frontal attack is out of the question. They've fortified their colony and have the jump route mined. Our scouts learned that the hard way."

"Sadly true." Sha'dur acknowledged. "But we could force through."

"Losses would be unacceptable, especially as we still have the Drazi to handle, then we have to garrison all these worlds we have taken. We can't afford to lose ships at this stage."

"So we go around, avoid the colony and its ships and hit Vreetan directly."

"That is the plan." Jha'dur confirmed. "The question is where do we jump off from?"

"We need a closer world then any Descari territory." Sha'dur guessed. "It's going to be either Yolu territory, or Markab space."

"My thoughts exactly." Jha'dur confirmed, "So, which one?"

Sha'dur considered for a few moments, weighing up the options and deciding on scenarios for each possibility, his mind working to a swift conclusion.

"Yolu."

"Why?"

"Because no one cares if they die."

"And who cares for the Markab?"

"Humans." Sha'dur replied. "They have a treaty and seem quite insistent on honouring it."

"You believe they would attack?"

"I don't know, but there is no need to take the risk and find out the hard way. Yolu."

Jha'dur smiled. "My reasoning exactly. We've already seized some Yolu space and frightened away their main fleet, we jump off from there, by pass the minor powers around them and strike Vreetan hard before they know what is happening."

"What do you think Sister, will the humans fight for the Markab?"

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "My agent on Earth suggest public opinion favours peace, but as you say there is no need to risk it. This campaign is winding down, we are almost finished, the last thing we need is someone else to fight."

"Especially given the reputation for human warships." Sha'dur agreed. "By the way, I had some news about that."

"What news?" Jha'dur asked.

"Our mission to kill those League representatives, the ones flying around trying to stir up trouble?"

"I remember them."

"We almost had them yesterday, they were heading to Human space and my officer came within minutes of wiping them out."

"A problem arose?" Jha'dur wondered.

"They crossed the Earth border and were met by a human warship."

"I sincerely hope your commander followed standing orders not to engage Earth Warships?"

"He did." Sha'dur confirmed. "He turned and left, the humans did not follow."

"I'd like to speak with him about his observations of the human ship." Jha'dur asked with interest.

"I'm afraid that is not possible, soon after reporting in he was ambushed by those infernal Balosians."

Jha'dur sighed. "Aren't they dead yet?"

"They seem to have found a new sponsor, someone supplying them weapons and parts." Sha'dur remarked. "I suspect Earth, but there is no evidence. Could be anyone."

"We'll handle them eventually." Jha'dur said. "And the last League Ambassadors, they've got no where else to go."

"You should have your man on Earth investigate their reception, Dar'ro wasn't it?"

"That's him." She confirmed. "We should contact the Council, get this chore out of the way."

The two Warmasters took seats and dimmed the lights, Sha'dur tapping a few controls to bring up the main communication screen.

"Captain Evenil," He called the bridge. "Do we have a connection with Omelos?"

"Confirmed sir." The female voice answered. "Channel secured and ready."

With another switch the screen lit up to show the familiar architecture of the Council chambers, it's circular shape mostly hidden by the narrow view of the video screen and the large table.

Five officers were seated in the room, each one immaculately turned out while the fur other Warmaster of the nine members of the council would speak over video. Beside herself and her brother Dar'sen was also on deployment stabilising Fendamir and could not attend in person, while the Supreme Warmaster was confined to his quarters on Doctors orders. Something Jha'dur was going to question as soon as the Vree situation was dealt with.

It did not escape her attention that the five people in the meeting room were also the least competent and most political of the council, including the narrow face of Warmaster Len'char.

He glared noticeably at the image of Jha'dur appearing on the video panels before reigning in his emotions and attempting to remain calm.

"Warmaster Len'char." Jha'dur allowed him no such comforts. "Good to see you up and around again, I trust you have no pain?"

Subconsciously his and went to his side where a few months earlier Jha'dur had impaled him. "I am fine, your concern is noted." He replied tactfully.

"I am so glad." Jha'dur grinned seemingly in happiness. "I'd like you to be in perfect health next time we meet, wouldn't want you to not enjoy the full experience I am planning for you." She stared maliciously at him. "Fitter you are the longer it will take."

"Quite." He said coldly. "Shall we begin?"

"What is it you do now exactly Len'char?" Jha'dur interrupted. "After all, you are no longer head of intelligence."

"I am advising."

"Advising what exactly? I'm curious to hear what exactly you can actually advise someone else on?"

"On matters of intelligence."

Jha'dur tilted her head. "My response to that would be too easy and predictable."

"Far be it from me to contradict the almighty Jha'dur, but you will find…"

"Enough." The Supreme Warmaster cut Len'char off. "We need to vote and carry out the actions quickly, you have all been made aware of the strategic situation?"

They all answered in the affirmitive.

"So vote, do we pass through Yolu space, or Markab space?"

Unsurprisingly Jha'dur, her brother and Dar'sen voted with their leader Gar'shan. The remaining five sided with Len'char and voted to attack Markab territory.

"You are making an error." Jha'dur stated flatly.

"By attacking an inferior enemy?" Len'char asked. "I don't think so."

"The Yolu are toothless, we outwit them, drive them to a battleground of our choosing and destroy them in detail. They are not strategic thinkers, hell they aren't even tactical thinkers. It will be too easy."

"Did you forget Yolu ships are the most powerful known to exist?"

"We've beaten strong enemies before, a well commanded Hyach force would have torn us apart."

"The Yolu are not the Hyach." Len'char said.

"Which is why beating them would be so much easier."

"One of their ships could turn a Mishakur to molten metal in a couple of seconds, you are a fool to provoke such power Jha'dur."

"I would not presume to debate Len'char on the definition of a fool." She announced for the benefit of the whole council. "But the Markab are more trouble than they are worth. For one they are fanatics."

"Making them reckless."

"Making them impossible to reason with or scare into giving up." Jha'dur corrected. "We need to fight each and every one of them, inferior technology or not it will be an intense action."

"Scared to face them Warmaster?" Len'char accused.

Jha'dur merely smiled at the taunt. "There is also the question of Earth."

"Not an issue." Len'char dismissed.

"It will be an issue if they fire on us, their cruisers are second only to our Dreadnoughts, they would happily defeat anything smaller." Jha'dur informed. "We cannot afford to waste time fighting a prepared and well armed enemy."

"I thought that was our job?"

"My job Len'char." Jha'dur said coldly. "I believe your job is to sit in your apartment jumping at shadows isn't it?"

He fixed her with a vicious stare. "If you are refusing to fight the Markab, perhaps this council should replace you, as it is within our power to do."

"Not if you wish for your internal organs to remain internal."

"What we need," the Supreme Warmaster spoke up." Is some facts."

Despite his ailing health Gar'shan was still treated with a healthy mix of respect and fear. He maintained command of all Dilgar forces and the fleets and armies of the Imperium were utterly loyal to him. If he ordered them to nuke Omelos they would have no hesitation in doing so, such was their devotion.

That gave him power Len'char could not yet rival, and it was a power Jha'dur was rapidly claiming as her own. For all his wealthy backers and industrial contacts without the military len'char would never be Supreme Warmaster. For that to happen four people had to die.

"Intelligence on Earth is sparse, no one has had much dealing with them." Len'char announced. "They are new, primitive and hide behind their borders blustering about keeping away from them."

"Well done Len'char." Jha'dur slowly clapped her hands together. "How did you ever lose that job of yours?"

"Something to add Warmaster?" Gar'shan asked formally.

"A few points, first Earth has had dealings with other races. Koulani, Ch'lonas and the Narn. Each tried to annex a piece of Human Territory, each failed in the end." The female listed. "Secondly we ourselves encountered an Earth ship, it gutted one of our Pentacans before being overcome. Thirdly we have met humans, both soldiers and diplomats. Do you know what we learned from them?"

"I've seen the report, they gave no concrete information on Earth." Len'char replied gruffly.

"Exactly." Jha'dur slapped her hand on the table. "Nothing. They went to great lengths to conceal their details, their soldiers caught on Tirith fought their way out of our planetary headquarters, our actual Headquarters! And they stole my personal ship!"

"So you make your incompetence look like human skill?" Len'char accused with some glee. "I had hoped for a better excuse."

"Keep talking Len'char, by law of probability you will eventually say something that isn't moronic. Eventually."

Gar'shan stepped in. "A reliable source has provided more accurate details of Earth."

"What? Who?" Blustered Len'char.

"A reliable source." Was all the Supreme Warmaster returned. "And you will continue addressing me as 'sir' if you wish to keep breathing."

"Apologies, sir." The bitter officer said with no hint of repentance.

"Our information shows that Earth has the equivalent of two Strike Fleets." Gar'shan announced in a hoarse voice. He was keeping an even tone and not wavering but clearly he was on a slippery slope. He was pale and gaunt with rapidly whitening hair and increasingly sunken eyes. His uniform hung limp from his shoulders betraying the skeletal frame beneath and the occasional cough broke his façade. It was a pain for Jha'dur to watch.

"Two Strike Fleets?" Warmaster Sen'la, an ally of Len'char scoffed. "Easy kills for us."

"I don't see the concern if that is all they have." Agreed his colleague Dru'tal.

"Then you need to pay more attention." Jha'dur spoke as if she were addressing a raw recruit. "Look how much damage we did to the League in this area with just two Strike fleets. Look how much we did with just one Strike Fleet."

"But those are Dilgar ships, and the Dilgar are the undisputed masters of warfare."

Jha'dur smiled thinly, noticing how the Council were trying to claim some shared credit for her victories. She made a note and let the remark pass. A reckoning would be due later.

"We are also at the end of our supply lines with serious shortages of tanker and tender ships." She pointed out. "Even a moderate human attack could seriously impede our timetable, and I need not remind you how vital it is we remain on schedule."

"This report we have been given states the humans are not ready for war." Dru'tal remarked.

"The humans are always ready for war." Sha'dur said with a mild sigh. "It is in their blood almost as much as in ours."

"You are saying humans are as good as we are in batte?" Len'char pounced.

"No." Sha'dur stated.

"Fine," Jha'dur stepped in. "I'll say it, they are better than us. I have seen it in person, and while not all humans will be such great warriors the ones I have encountered defeated up to six times their number of Dilgar forces. If that doesn't make you concerned you should not be in uniform."

"Sheer luck." Sen'la dismissed. "You must have been fighting Special forces."

"Our examination of the human information net does not suggest so." Sha'dur answered. "I also had the opportunity to look at some human military history. They are consummate soldiers, ingenious, cunning and brave. They have fought amazing battles against staggering odds, used technology in new and eye opening ways to gain an advantage. They have advanced almost as fast as we have and the tactics of their past leaders mirrors our own. Their only failing is compassion, they never took the final step to utterly exterminate their enemies instead allowing them to live on as equals, not even slaves."

"But there were enough humans who could have been Dilgar." Jha'dur added. "Warriors and leaders who's names still inspire fear centuries after their deaths. I admit to a fondness for the story of a man called Vlad the Impaler. There is a Dilgar in human clothes."

"Stories aside, the past tells us nothing." Dru'tal arrogantly surmised.

"The past tells us everything." Jha'dur countered. "Their character then is no different to their character now, only the weapons change. They will fight as hard as Spartans three thousand years ago, as Crusaders, as Samurai, as Partisans, as Paratroopers, as Chindits, as Rangers. The list goes on and on."

"It will take at least a month for them to mobilise, by then the Markab will be a piece of that history. Their reason for wall will be gone."

"It won't stop them fighting. Humans will fight for an idea." Jha'dur stated. "Something as nebulous as Freedom of Justice. Laughable to us, but the bedrock of civilization for humanity. Though more to the point they'll have a warlike race on their borders and will attempt to force a buffer zone. We can afford it, but it will impact our timetable."

"Lets summarize shall we?" Len'char finally said. "Can you beat the Markab?"

"Yes." She answered.

"Can you beat the humans?"

"Yes, but with higher losses than you might guess. I estimate forty percent."

"More than Third Stike lost when fighting several times its number of Drazi." Dar'sen pointed out.

"And that estimate is conservative." Jha'dur continued. "I strongly advise not provoking humanity."

"The vote still stands." Len'char announced. "Unless anyone wishes to change their vote?"

No one did.

"Then the Council has spoken. Formulate and execute a plan to remove the Markab, then proceed to destroy the Vree Conglomerate. We will welcome you victorious in two months, Warmasters."

The conference ended, sending the screens black.

"Welcome us home?" Sha'dur chuckled. "With glowing sniper rifles."

"I wouldn't worry." His sister shook her head. "My security is far superior to any little tricks Len'char can come up with. Devious as his little mind is."

"The Spectre units." Sha'dur reasoned. "How are they?"

"Fifty six members, the war has created a number of suitable recruits."

"Very useful asset to call on, all completely loyal?"

"To me and the Supreme Warmaster first." Jha'dur confirmed. "Though of course they know you, Dar'sen and Tor'han are staunch allies and believers in a true Imperium, not Len'chars parody. They will serve you when the day comes."

"The day we put Len'char in his place?"

"Yes, that place being under my knife." Jha'dur couldn't resist a little happiness at the concept.

"Are we going to attack the Markab?"

"We must, the council has spoken." She answered. "If we refuse we lose a lot of currency with the public hurting our position in the leadership contest. Much as I hate to admit it Len'char has us in a corner. Refuse and look like a coward, go ahead and risk getting shot to pieces by fresh human ships."

"What happens if the humans challenge us?" Sha'dur spoke with trepidation.

"We fight, and we win." The female Warmaster said simply. "Because we have no other option, no other result will be acceptable for our race's future. Pray it doesn't come to that. Humanity is not a warrior race like the Drazi, where fighting is their tradition, nor are they forced into war like the Narn. They fight because they chose to, and they fight with such conviction and skill it terrifies me. To fight like that through choice, imagine how they will fight when forced into a corner?"

"It will be costly, but I am confident of victory."

"In the end, probably." Jha'dur agreed. "But they will bleed us, and we will need all our strength in the future. One day or another we will have war with humanity, but not today. Gods help us, not today."

Eridani Station

Earth/Markab border

The room was not what Ambassador Itala had grown used to in her long years serving the Abbai people as their voice in the League. She had become used to large windows gazing onto starfields and planets, opulent curtains and drapes, rich rugs beneath her feet and sumptuous chairs that engulfed their occupants in silk cushions. The human quarters had none of that, despite being billed as diplomatic accommodation.

But Itala did not mind, compared to the hardships she had endured on the hard worn Syontar these rooms were like a mansion. The cruiser had been conceived as a part time diplomatic transport and did possess a lush ambassadorial room at the time of its commission for senior diplomats and Admirals, but that room had been turned to a cinder during the initial battle of Utriel that Captain Cashik had fought through. The space was now filled with food crates for their long journey and Itala shared a room with her aide Kalika originally built for Junior Officers. It was the best room on the ship, even Cashik's quarters had been lost, turned into a temporary sickbay after damage to the ships primary medical facilities.

She was reminded of how much of a miracle it had been to make it this far, and that many among their party had not been fortunate enough to see this new world. While her quarters were faceless grey with a few images of sunrises and oceans on the wall that made her oddly homesick the simple fact she was in them at all filled her with enormous gratitude and hope.

After seeing off the Dilgar the League representatives had been escorted to the ring type station orbiting the planet Eridani, a mostly untouched and temperate world only recently acquired by Earth, within the last decade or so she had heard. Yet ironically despite its youth the world was by far the biggest colony in the Alliance with an estimated twenty million inhabitants on the ground and in orbit. Not humans, but refugees from across the League who had fled to Earth seeing some sort of neutral refuge there.

Most of the refugees were from nearby Bestine but there were significant numbers of Brakiri and Cascans, plus a selection of Abbai including a few ships that had seen the battle of Tirrith. Itala had sent her aide Kalika to talk to those people, reassure them their home still endured and the war went on while also seeking to find the truth of the stories about that battle.

It seemed Lelant was right, a lone human cruiser had fought vigorously to gain some time for the defenceless refugees to flee, these Abbai among them, and had taken a hefty toll on the Dilgar before succumbing. The story had clearly caught Kalika's imagination and Itala agreed the concept of a human ship battling to guard innocent League civilians would aide their case. However the fact it was an isolated incident had to be addressed.

They had been given a day to talk with their respective refugees and prepare their position while the human diplomats sought instructions from their government. The hours had gone very fast and the time of the meeting was now upon them. The Ambassadors assembled and were directed to a bland conference room.

"Oh look," Brakiri Ambassador Kani remarked. "It's grey. I am surprised."

Itala glared. "A races choice of paint is rather irrelevant at this stage don't you think?"

"Decorations tells me a lot about a people." Kani returned. "These humans are simple, unimaginative and primitive."

"Or they simply do not waste their efforts on the unnecessary." Itala returned. "The samples of artwork in my quarters told me more about human creativity that the colour of their walls. No sit, and let me do most of the talking."

"Logical." Kani agreed. "But only because you have the longest diplomatic experience."

"Reason enough." Itala nodded, then sat at the plain wooden table, an improvement on the steel table used in most other negotiations.

Mere seconds later the door opened to reveal two humans, an elderly thin man led the way with well kept facial hair and a tailored black suit. His colleague wore a much simpler suit in the human style coloured tan or light brown and had balding red hair.

"Ambassadors, welcome to Earth Alliance territory." The older man began. "I am Sir Richard Grenville, Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Senate. This is my associate David Sheridan."

Itala stood and bowed. "You speak excellent Abbai Mr Secretary."

"I have had many dealings with the League in my days." Grenville smiled. "And as Abbai is the diplomatic language of the League it was prudent to becoe fluent in it, among others. In fact we have met before, thirty six years ago on Brakir during one of Earths earliest trade conferences with the League."

Itala searched her memory for the event. "I dimly recall it, but I can't say I remember you Mr Secretary, my apologies."

"Not necessary." Grenville smiled. "It was a long time ago, and please call me Richard. Now, shall we begin?"

Itala nodded and steepled her fingers as the humans sat down opposite her. "The situation is remarkably simple sirs, we need help fighting the Dilgar."

"Direct military help?" Sheridan asked for clarification.

"That would be ideal." Itala nodded. "And in all honesty probably the only thing that will save the League."

"We understand that you have met a lot of governments lately." Grenville said. "How have you done in gaining support?"

"Our results have been mixed." Itala said truthfully. "The Vree have acted on our warnings, but were defeated by the Dilgar in battle and now are massing for a defensive battle. We do not expect them to win."

"We agree." Sheridan confirmed. "We found two Strike fleets and a Line fleet concentrating in this sector, they arrived a few hours ago."

Kalika raised her point. "That is a very fast flow of information."

Sheridan smiled. "We take some pride in our intelligence community, they're pretty good."

"Good enough to have gathered a lot of information on Dilgar activities, information we are willing to share." Grenville built on Sheridan's statement. I am sure it will be useful to you."

"Very." Itala agreed. "But even if we could see the future it wouldn't help us unless we had warships to act on it."

"That Ambassador is an issue." Grenville said sombrely. "Earth is an expansionist world, we have taken much territory in our eighty years of interstellar travel, but at no time did we take space that was claimed by another race. We have never annexed territory or conquered a race. We are not invaders, not warmongers, not exporters of violence. We fight to defend ourselves and nothing more. It is not the way our world works."

"Our people don't look favourably on war." Sheridan continued. "As I am sure you can understand. Our Senate, the governing body of Earth, has on numerous occasions voted against sending military support to the League. It may surprise you to know this is an almost monthly debate on Earth with the Senate almost evenly split on the issue."

"What does that mean?" Kani wondered.

"It means half the human government wants to help us." Kalika made the answer with wide eyes. "Half of them."

"And half do not." Itala reminded.

"Everyone has a reason." Grenville explained. "Senator Santiago wants to see Earth take more of a part in the Galactic community, a trading and diplomatic partner helping bridge hostile factions, like the League, the Narn and the Centauri. Liberating the League would be the method we use to take this role in the Galaxy. Senator Bien on the other hand looks at this from a purely humanitarian perspective, that we should fight to free the imprisoned League worlds and restore them to their rightful owners, a sentiment with a lot of support."

"But there are others who don't think we should send human soldiers to die in somebody else's war." Sheridan provided counterpoint. "That involving ourselves in this war will be a disturbingly aggressive act of foreign policy which could turn Earth into an imperialistic faction using our fleet to impose our terms. Some look at it purely as a waste of money. That's the split, but mainly it's between those who wish to fight to help the innocents of the League, and those who wish to avoid involvement for the sake of human lives."

"I see." Itala nodded. "So we must convince the reluctant half to go to war?"

"For something as major as war the Senate needs a three quarter majority to pass the declaration." Grenville said. "The President will have the power to do the rest."

"Your President is your leader?"

"Yes, Dieter Hauser currently." Sheridan informed them. "He is in favour of intervention, but without Senate backing can't take any open action. He has however been aiding the Free Balosians with supplies and expanding our intelligence assets, among other more blunt methods of protecting Earth interests."

"Warships you mean?" Kalika suggested.

"Among other things."

"I have a question." Tullaq raised a paw. "If, and I stress If, Earth goes to war. What can you bring to the table?"

"You're asking if we can beat the Dilgar?" Grenville mused. "I am not an Admiral so can't say for sure, what I can see is we have enough ships to match everything they have in this sector and we are confident that ton for ton our ships pack more punch than the Dilgar."

"The Persephone showed this." Kalika nodded.

"Yes, yes it did." Sheridan agreed. "You are well informed."

"Thank you, I have recently begun studying human history. That event stood out to me."

"And to many humans." Sheridan confirmed. "The fleet hasn't forgotten that ships loss, and if it does come to war I guarantee our ships will fight hard to honour the memory of the Persephone."

"But will Earth go to war?" Kani demanded.

"Right now, no, we won't." Grenville said. "A long as the Senate is divided like this Earth will take no offensive action."

"So everything rests on the Senate." Itala concluded. "We must make a good argument."

"Very much so." Sheridan agreed. "But without a direct threat to Earth, it's going to be a very hard concept to sell."

"We've arranged passage to Earth for you." Grenville announced recovering some papers for Itala. "In a few days you will address the Senate yourselves, all of them, and will have the opportunity to make a speech to them to state your case."

"We have free reign to speak as we please?"

"Entirely, there are no restrictions. Furthermore your speech will be broadcast across the Alliance, you will be addressing the whole of humanity, not just the Senate."

The implications didn't take long to sink in with Itala. Before they had met a handful of leaders and made their pleas to hardened political figures. This time they would talk to ordinary people, and that public opinion could sway the politicians if they could harness it.

"How long will the speech be?"

"As long as it needs to be."

Itala nodded absently, her mind already deep in planning. "Thank you Ambassadors for this opportunity."

"You've come a long way, it wouldn't be fair if you couldn't make your case freely." Grenville allowed. "Your ships are refuelled and an escort is ready, I suggest the sooner you go the better."

"We'll be gone in an hour."

"Then good luck, I sincerely hope you achieve your goal." Grenvile stretched out his hand.

"Thank you." Itala recognized the human gesture of respect and shook the Ministers hand. "Earth is our last chance."

"I know."

The Ambassadors began packing up and leaving, their short timetable hardly an imposition as they had only to carry the items already on their person. There was not an especially buoyant feeling of hope, especially as they could think of little beyond the speeches they had shared with other governments to try and convince Earth.

"Miss Kalika?"

The young Abbai turned to the sound of her name, seeing the human named Sheridan squeeze through the bustling Ambassadors.

"Mr Sheridan, can I help?"

"Just the opposite in fact." He smiled. "About the speech your leader will make, I have a suggestion."

"Yes?" she endeavoured to hide her curiosity.

"Make the speech for humans. Not a standard address you would use anywhere, try to make it so humanity will understand and empathise."

"How do I do that?"

"Link it to human history, show that what are going through now is something that has parallels on Earth."

"But does it? I mean has this happened on your world?"

Sheridan produced a data crystal from his pocket. "You said you were looking into Earth history, I think you'll find the files on here pretty useful."

He handed it over.

"What are they?"

"Warnings from history." Sheridan replied. "A lot of people on Earth hold special meaning for two simple words. Never again. It is happening again, not to us yet but I am sure one day the Dilgar will come for us too. We can stop this, if you can convince the Senate to act before it is too late and the League is just a sad memory."

Kalika nodded. "I think I understand."

"This is for my people too, this is the best time to hit the Dilgar." Sheridan said. "For the sake of both our governments, make this speech work."

The young Abbai put the crystal in her pocket, feeling a little light headed with the realisation of what had been entrusted to her. It one define her life, though for better or worse was up to her.

"The right words can change the future." Sheridan said. "Use them wisely, and maybe we can do something good here, something right, and make sure the darkest moments in the history of sentient races do not happen again."


	60. Chapter 60

59

Bremen, Germany

Earth

December 24th 2231

The trees looked almost black against the white morning sky, the clouds low above heavy with snow and ice barely holding back from blanketing the cold land and completing the wintry scene. The lines of trees reflected on the car windows as the vehicle weaved its way into the countryside outside the busy city and away into the tranquillity of rural Germany.

The land the car passed through had remained largely untouched by the parade of years and retained a greenness that radiated even in the heart of winter. It was easy enough to imagine armoured knights ranging across the countryside or well dressed noble men leading a hunt through the trees and across the fields. The truth, as is often the case, was somewhat more disappointing and the land around was as much a product of mans husbandry as it was natures feats, but it was still captivating for its majesty and a timeless image of this part of Northern Germany.

However the occupant of the vehicle had little interest in his surroundings today. Normally he probably would have taken time to appreciate the stands of trees and waterways, and would certainly have investigated Bremen itself with its ancient heart. But on this occasion he hadn't even noticed the ornate public buildings as the car passed through the city from the neighbouring airport nor the busy port and markets. The occupant had a lot on his mind, more so than usual at least.

Karl Durban's life was not a simple tale by any stretch of the imagination, both his past and present was shrouded in mystery as befit the Director of the Earth Intelligence Agency. It was known he had a wife and some children, it was known he had a sister and two parents still alive, it was also known he kept in touch with his colleagues from the military and even school. What wasn't known was the names of any of these people nor the whereabouts of his family. Nobody even knew their faces and the Director was careful to keep it that way. The picture of his family kept in his office was a fake, a computer generated miss match of faces to make a totally imaginary person. The same made up people had government records and an address meaning a search would yield a supposed location for the Directors family should an enemy wish to try and use them as collateral. Unfortunately for them the address led to an EIA safe house kept under constant surveillance.

Such were the depths the Director went to in order to hide what mattered to him. It was a hardship and it did affect him on a personal level, but one of Durban's first lessons as a young agent had been the ability to detach himself from any feelings or emotions that could weaken him as a tool of Earth.

Many agents couldn't deal with that, becoming utterly cold in life which tended to make them perfect assassins. Vic Chapel had been going that way until Durban had intervened, seeing more potential than just a hitman in the agents skills. If they could balance detachment while still holding onto emotions it could give an agent an unrivalled insight into other people which elevated them above the average and marked them for the higher ranks of the EIA where the big decisions were made. Durban was the case in point.

The car turned down a side road that led up to a pair of large black barred gates guarded by plain clothed men. While their clothes gave nothing away it was clear by their posture and bearing this were very fit and very professional individuals who could fight with skill. The were members of the Earth Force Secret Service, a descendant of the various diplomatic protection agencies of member nations now tasked with safeguarding the key leaders of Earth.

The guards checked both the identity of the driver and the passenger, Director Durban, before signalling for the gates to be opened and the vehicle allowed through. The black vehicle entered the compound which on the surface could have been any wealthy persons home in the countryside. A closer examination would have uncovered monitoring devices, sleeping gas traps and reinforced walls rated to stop a tank. It was a well guarded fortress and it was so for one reason.

The compound was owned by Dieter Hauser, current President of the Earth Alliance and most powerful individual among humanity. While his official residence was at Earth Dome in Geneva surrounded by security he retained a personal retreat not far from his home town here in Northern Germany. Eventually he would retire to this location where the security arrangements would remain. A former President was still a high profile target for terrorists and activists and was guaranteed life long protection for both themselves and their family.

Durban's car, itself able to take plasma and RPG hits without exploding, pulled up in front of the low and wide spread house where a butler was already waiting to open the door and escort him inside.

"Good Morning Mr Durban, I hope the journey was pleasant?"

"Very enjoyable thank you." The EIA Director nodded. "Though sadly brief."

"Unfortunate side affect of your business I'm sure." The Butler lead him in. "The President is in his study, that room there at the end of the hall."

"Thank you." Durban handed his coat to the Butler. "Looks like snow huh?"

"White Christmas." The Butler parted a smile. "I shall have some Tea waiting."

He knocked on the wooden door and waited for a moment.

"Come in." a voice called from beyond and in response the Director turned the handle and stepped in.

It was an amazing room, nearly half of it was a semi circle of tall glass windows with stunning views of a lake and trees behind the house. Its wood panelled walls were mostly hidden by a small library of books and a cabinet hiding the ill fitting modern communication equipment.

President Hauser himself was behind a walnut desk strewn with papers and books with a focus on local history. He rose, comfortable in a simple pair of trousers and a dark green wool sweater and offered Durban a seat.

"Welcome to my home Karl."

"It's a very wonderful place." Durban complimented. "Eighteenth Century?"

"Nineteenth." Hauser replied. "Made a few years after German unification, the first time at least."

Durban recalled Germany had been unified twice, in the mid nineteenth century and then the late twentieth. "I noticed some nice paintings in your hall, local artist?"

"Yes, my Mother as a matter of fact." Hauser chuckled slightly. "My family come from this region so we have some history here."

"Her painting of the town centre is very evocative, excellent detail." Durban said honestly. "How is your family?"

"Preparing for dinner tomorrow." The President said. "It is rare we have time together recently, it is nice just to be a Father once in a while and not a President." Hauser had a slight look of sadness about him, a hint of regret that his chosen path had perhaps robbed his family of something fundamental. Durban could understand that, he often thought the same way.

"I'll be heading home myself after this." Durban mentioned wistfully.

"Then I suggest we make it quick, I won't keep you from your plane."

Durban took his seat and brought his briefcase to the table, opening the lock with a DNA scan coupled with a password. The traditional black leather container disguised a high impact composite shell designed to protect the sensitive contents from anything short of a nuclear war. He removed some documents, still printed on paper, and handed them to the President.

"Our weekly intelligence summary." Durban said. It was a tradition that he delivered the documents personally and was on hand to take President Hauser's questions. He considered it part of his job and regarded it as a duty, but he also didn't trust anyone else with the complete summaries or expect anyone to be as well informed on the variety of missions the EIA was undertaking.

It was first and foremost a security matter, the different departments of the EIA were well separated and worked on a need to know basis. The average code breaker would be aware of Dilgar fleet movements and orders, but would have no idea about where Earths field agents were deployed. Likewise a spy handler in Centauri space would know where three or four moles were, but wouldn't know the names of every Centauri agent working for Earth.

The higher in rank you went the more people knew, but the only man who knew everything was Durban, not even his two Deputy Directors had the whole picture which was why Durban took responsibility for these briefings. Indeed he prided himself on knowing everything about his Agency.

"You'll notice a Centauri deployment to their far border, an indication of Orieni activity."

"Has the diplomatic service made contact with them yet?"

"No Mr President, the only way to them is through Centauri space, and they are unsurprisingly reluctant to let us go through there. They claim the border s too dangerous."

"Good excuse."

"We could try going around, but that space is currently unexplored and rumoured to hold a race called Minbari. We've got nothing on them but a name."

"We'll take a note to investigate later, when things quiet down."

"The two other items of big News are the League Ambassadors and the Dilgar deployment."

"Let's start with the League." Hauser requested.

"They arrived yesterday and were put up in Geneva at the diplomatic quarter. We've booked the senate for the Twenty Sixth when the Senators will be back from their Christmas breaks."

"Short notice, I bet they'll resent it."

"Perhaps, but the League wanted this to happen fast. They're putting together quite a speech."

"I will watch it from here and vote electronically." Hauser said. The Presidents decision was not based on an unwillingness to see the Ambassadors in person but because it was considered a security risk for the President, Vice President and full Senate to be in one place at one time.

"I expect they'll want to meet you in person after the speech, one way or another." Durban said. "Shall I invite them up here?"

"Sure." Hauser nodded. "It is a part of Earth they will not have seen before."

"I'd also like to offer them Sanctuary if things don't go well."

"Approved." The President confirmed readily. "They've had a nightmare of a journey, I wouldn't send them back out into that."

"Their speech will go out live world wide to anyone interested in watching. ISN as picked it up and there is a lot of general awareness."

"People want to know about the Dilgar from first hand accounts." Hauser surmised.

"As this is live sir, the information we have been reluctant to release may be given out by the League Ambassadors."

"I expect it will." Hauser nodded. "And it will influence opinion. It is no secret I think we should help the League and that war with the Dilgar is inevitable. I have believed it since we lost the Persephone."

"Yes sir."

"I would rather fight them sooner instead of later, General Denisov tells me we will be at full strength for March of next year."

"Enough time to shore up public support if we follow on from the League speech." Durban admired Hauser's political savvy. "And hopefully soon enough to still find a League resisting for us to save."

"Moving on." Hauser prompted.

"The second item is the Dilgar." Durban turned the sheet he was keeping notes on, though he could more or less recall the information from memory.

"As usual." Hauser sighed grimly.

"They have two Strike Fleets, the First and Second, massed at Bestine along with a Line Fleet recently arrived. Almost a third of the Dilgar Navy and easily their best ships and commanders."

"Are they going to hit Markab?"

"We don't know." Durban said through gritted teeth. "Our intercepts show a lot of talk about the Yolu and Vree aswell, they could go in any of three directions."

"What's your instinct Karl?"

He exhaled. "Base don the frequency of mentions, and the way the Dilgar supply chain seems to be setting itself up, Markab."

"After we warned them not to." The President shook his head. "We can't accept that, we can't lay down an ultimatum to leave the Markab alone and then not act if they are attacked."

"I agree Mr President."

"And we can't live with the Dilgar on our border waiting for them to attack us just like the League did."

"The Joint Chiefs are finalising an appropriate response plan Mr President." Durban informed. "General Denisov will present it during the next scheduled briefing."

"Good, this is not a time for half measures." Hauser tapped his fingers on his table. "How are our forces?"

"Approximately thirty percent are on leave for Christmas." Durban recalled. "We can be at full battle readiness in a week, though I'm sure the Generals will want to wait a few months until their new batches of Dreadnoughts are completed. They only just received their new build cruisers, one was on deployment to Eridani and escorted the League ships in."

There was a beep from Durban's top pocket, one that repeated itself every second.

"Please excuse me Mr President."

He took the small tube like device from his pocket and held it up to his ear. His personal communicator had a number known to less than five people and each had instruction to use it in only the most dire of emergencies. To get a call while speaking with the President had him very worried. It turned out the interruption was justified.

He placed the device back in his pocket and turned to the President who was reading through the names and known facts on the League Ambassadors.

"Mr President, I have to report that twenty three minutes ago the Dilgar navy crossed the Markab border in force."

Hauser froze solid, his eyes rising to look with an intensity Durban had not seen before. It was the look of a man whose life was about to change.

Durban took the Presidents silence as an indication to continue. "They breached the border in two locations at Tiree and Troth, both are Markab colonies and both have relative light defences. Populations for both exceed thirty million."

"Anything from the Markab?"

"They haven't contacted us yet, however they are already massing for a major counter attack." Durban answered. "Thanks to Ambassador Itala and her people the Markab were warned and were mobilised already."

"What are their chances?"

"Against two Strike fleets? Slim to none." Durban sighed. "Our analysis indicates the Markab will be spun into a religious fury and attack with great courage but little discipline. The Dilgar will pick them apart with ease. My best guess for them would be at most two weeks before The Dilgar destroy them, and that has more to do with the over stretched Dilgar supply lines than Markab resistance."

President Hauser took in the news calmly, but inside he was terrified. His palms were sweating and he felt as warm as he did in the height of summer. He was uncomfortable, fidgety, everything was building up to crush down on him. He forced himself to breathe steadily despite the sudden sensation of having steel bands tightened across his chest.

"Two weeks?" he repeated, half a question and half just to hear his voice and remind himself it was still there.

"Unless the Dilgar mess up, which considering the commanders involved is quite unlikely."

"We're not going to have all our forces, just our current fleets."

"Yes Mr President, however I believe it will be enough. We can match the Dilgar for numbers, only just but it's enough. I'd prefer a superiority but we can win this."

Hauser couldn't remember a moment in his life when he was so scared. Scared of doing the wrong thing, of not fighting and running away in shame, or of fighting and losing. The fate of humanity could well rest on what he chose to do next, it was something which turned his bones to jelly.

"What do we have out there?"

"The Third Fleet under Admiral Hamato and Sixth fleet under Admiral Ferguson are stationed at Altair, one jump from Markab and it's colonies." Durban stated. "The Fourth and Fifth fleets are about a week from the border on exercise, both are on alert and can be moved into action immediately."

"And our full might can be mobilised in a week?"

"Yes Mr President, the main issue is our supply ships, they are currently stood down and we need to get a few hundred at least mobile to support any type of offensive."

"How long?"

"As an emergency measure, perhaps three days to get enough to support our fleets."

"Three days." The President leaned back in his chair, unable to do more. "Three days to make a decision."

"This changes a lot Mr President." Durban emphasised. "With Dilgar hitting the Markab it's going to add weight to the League request. It's not a distant war any longer it's on our doorstep now. People can't ignore it anymore."

"I can use my executive powers to prepare, but I'll need the Senate to agree before I order any attack."

"Of course Mr President."

Hauser closed his eyes tight, reaching inside to gather some strength and face the black wall of a decision hovering before him.

"Get in touch with General Denisov, set DefCon two across Earth Force, all units are to prepare for war."

Durban stood a little straighter. "Yes Mr President."

"It'll take three days to get our supplies ready, only then can we begin moving ships and troops?"

"Yes Mr President."

"Then don't cancel leave until the day after Christmas." Hauser informed. "Let our people have time with their families, it might be the last they see."

"Understood."

"Then I want to see the General's plan for liberating the Markab and if it will work with current forces. If it will I will approve deployment in hyperspace and await final orders from the Senate and myself."

"Shall I make diplomatic contact with the Dilgar?" Durban asked. "Give them an ultimatum to leave?"

"No." Hauser shook his head in confidence, more and more certain of his path now he had begun down it. "No ultimatum, no contact at all. If we give a deadline they'll be ready to meet us when the timer runs out. No warnings, no tip offs, nothing. That time is past, the next time a human speaks to a Dilgar it will be at the point of a thousand plasma canons."

"Very clear Mr President."

"Alright, go, warn Denisov, then go home."

"Yes…" Durban paused. "Home sir?"

"You said you were having a family dinner tomorrow."

"Well yes sir, but this changes things."

"It changes nothing, it just reminds us of what we already know to be important." Hauser said firmly. "Go hope, have a good family Christmas, then meet me here the day after to listen to the speech and await the vote."

Durban reluctantly nodded. "Of course Mr President."

"Savour it Karl, three days from now we're going to be at war."

Geneva

Earth

December 26th, 2231

Itala stood by the banks of Lake Geneva wanting more than anything else in her life to simply dive in and swim, to feel the gentle embrace of the waves around her body and the touch of the currents and warmth on her skin. She had not been this close to water for a long time with the option to just leap in and let go for a few minutes. She had even dipper her foot in, just to see what it was like.

But it had not been the same, the water was the same of course but this was Switzerland in December and the Lake was almost as cold as ice. If she tried to swim there she would go into shock and die before getting a few hundred yards, a far cry from the tropical waters of her youth.

She understood Earth did have more agreeable waters but they were far from here, and Itala did not have the time to seek them out. To see the water there, so clear and inviting yet so deadly touched something inside that disturbed her. She saw the seas and oceans of her home as lifegiving places to nurture young, to relax and to conserve for the enjoyment of future generations. This water here upon which the human centre of government was built was very different.

Still, she did notice some boats and diving gear for the land born humans to try to experience the glory the Abbai took for granted, and it gave her some hope. In summer she could imagine the Lake teeming with life, the laughing of children and calls of adults as they splashed and frolicked it made her feel so terribly lonely and small, but never more determined to serve her people and ensure the waters of her world would continue to give life.

This would be the Speech of her life, all her diplomatic service, every word she had uttered, every breath, every heart beat, it all had been merely a contribution to make sure she attended this place, this meeting, this time. Nothing else mattered, not even her life. If the humans demanded a blood sacrifice to even think about helping she would go willingly to her death to buy just that glimmer of hope. She had nothing left, her race had nothing less, just the words and images she would show today on behalf of her people and the dying League as a whole.

"So clear."

Itala turned to see Kalika stood beside her, a thin blue palm computer in her hand.

"Beautiful." She agreed readily. With the clear water, the blue skies, white mountains and green grass you can see why the humans choose to meet in this place. So much wonder, so much to feast your eyes and imagination on. Such a reminder of your world and such an incentive to protect it."

"As we seek to protect ours." Kalika nodded. "I hope that common bond stretches deep enough here."

"I hope so too." The older Ambassador lowered her head for a few moments. "You have seen the news?"

"The Markab are launching their counterattack." Kalika commented. "According to our human liaison the attack should be going in as we begin our speech."

"I noticed you spent much time with him, David Sheridan."

"Yes Ambassador, he has been a great wealth of knowledge, with his help I have found many examples of human history we can use to help us in our cause."

"Does he have a family Kalika? Children?"

"He does, a son and a daughter."

"Are they old enough to fight?"

"He tells me no, but if things go badly they may be called into home defence."

"By the Natar, we're doing it again, bringing destruction to all we visit." Itala hissed in despair. "We're the wardens of death! It follows our path claiming who it wants, and it wears the face of a Dilgar Warmaster!"

"No Ambassador, no that isn't right." Kalika gently took hold of her mentors arm. "The Dilgar are not here because of us, but because of their lust for conquest and their wish to see all races bow to them and burn."

"Even the Centauri at their height were not this brutal, they did not win so often and so easily, and they weren't even fighting equal races! Most of their conquests were simple worlds!" Itala could feel her anger rising. "Yet these Dilgar seep all in their path into ruin, even the Drazi! Greatest warriors in the Galaxy! Even they barely slowed them down!"

"Drazi are warriors, but the Dilgar are soldiers." Kalika replied. "We need soldiers to beat them, skilled and determined. Ambassador that is what humanity is. I've seen it in these files and I've flagged events to use in the speech."

Itala took the computer. "Humans are warriors?"

"They were." Kalika nodded. "They evolved into soldiers."

"Like the Dilgar."

"Except the Dilgar fight for conquest and vanity, humans fight to protect what is dear to them."

"Like their worlds and families."

"And often to protect others." Kalika added. "But more importantly than that I think I've found a key, sometimes humans will fight against what they perceive as evil."

"Evil?" Itala frowned. "That's a rather abstract concept."

"Human wars are fought for practical reasons like everyone else, but it is the people fighting who seek inspiration to steel them in battle. Earth will go to war because the Dilgar must be a clear threat to them now, but we must give the public a reason beyond that, a moral reason, a fight against evil in a very tangible sense."

"You have an example of this?"

Kalika grinned. "Hundreds."

Tiree Star System

Markab Colony world.

December 26th, 2231.

It was with some interest Jha'dur watched the camera image of a Markab cruiser roll past her view, its hull torn with impacts and petalled open after suffering internal explosions. It was one among many, the entire defence fleet had been thrown into an ill timed frontal attack on Jha'dur's ships and had met predictable ends. Still, their total devotion to battle had intrigued her.

"Did they think they could win?" Captain An'jash noted her superior officers interest.

"The Markab?"

"Yes Warmaster, they assault us with two dozen ships, just two dozen against a whole Strike Fleet! What were they thinking?"

"They thought they were invincible." Jha'dur confirmed. "That their gods would give them armour to resist our bolters and prime their weapons so they might smite our ruin with the wrath of heaven. Such a poetic final thought to have before they died."

An'jash was smiling. "They really believe that?"

"Entirely Captain."

"How did they make it out of the Stoneage?" she returned half joking.

"I would say faith." Jha'dur answered. "In themselves, in others, in portents and destiny. They are quite open for a religious people, fairly tolerant to a degree. They will accept radical ideas as inspiration from above, a question or challenge to prove or disprove. That curiosity gave them science, and science gave them the stars. All the will of the gods of course."

"Naturally." An'jash still had a fixed grin. "And is it divine will that we just annihilated their first task force?"

"For the Markab, yes. They will consider themselves either at an end in this life and we are the instrument that sends tem to heaven, of more likely for warriors that they have been tested and found unworthy of the gods service, and therefore killed by us as agents of the underworld."

"Agents of the underworld? As in demons?"

"Precisely Captain." Jha'dur chuckled. "We get that quite a lot you know."

The colony had fallen very quickly and already troops were on the surface rounding up locals to use as slave labour. The fit and healthy went into concentration camps until they were assigned roles among Dilgar work teams. Those who couldn't work were left to starve or executed on the spot, depending on the whims of the officers conducting the searches.

Tiree had been selected as the main base in this sector of space and would be transformed into a fortress world. It was a logical choice thanks to its ready workforce, its reasonable climate and of course its proximity to the Earth Alliance, a group Jha'dur continued to treat with a healthy measure of respect. Tiree was just one jump from two EA worlds, including a fairly large colony and military base at Altair making it an obvious choice for a fortress. It would be given a massive defence grid, advanced sensors and be tasked with pinning the rimward extent of the Dilgar Empire. In a few months the world would be an unassailable bastion of Dilgar power watching humanity.

For a few minutes Jha'dur watched the world turn on the video screen. The capital city was a black hole in the ground but the rest was still liveable for the anticipated Dilgar garrison and their various families and civilian support groups. It would probably one day be a rather pleasant assignment in a quiet sector, assuming humanity remained quiet.

That was something the Warmaster was putting a lot of faith in. She hated it, Jha'dur was not a person of faith but of facts. She didn't trust to providence and beseech the gods in their imaginary towers for blessing, she made things happen. She ensured victory through careful planning and training, the batles in the League were years if not decades in the making. There was nothing random about them, just the twists and turns of luck which any good commander knew how to read and exploit.

Jha'dur left nothing to chance, she calculated probabilities and solutions to any eventuality, she had contingency plans ready for when things inevitably did go wrong and she surrounded herself with leaders and subordinates who were as skilled and likely to take initiative as she was.

But right now Jha'dur was uneasy. She disliked sitting on the edge of humanities border waiting for something to happen. Maybe Earth would deliver an ultimatum to leave, or tell the Dilgar to withdraw, or just warn them to stay outside Earth space. Maybe they would say nothing, maybe they would just show up two months from now and kill everything in sight.

Jha'dur did not know, and that really, really bothered her. It wasn't just that she didn't know for sure what the humans would do, it was that she had absolutely no inkling at all. Mostly she could guess very reasonably what would happen and how a race would react. It had worked perfectly when playing games of brinkmanship with the League but trying those same games with Earth was in her view extremely unwise.

Her information from Dar'ro was concise enough, telling her about public opinion and relative military strengths. It should have emboldened her, proof that humans were not going to attack. It all seemed perfect, exactly as the Warcouncil predicted.

Yet, despite that she was uneasy, gods help her she might even be feeling a little fear. Like a child slowly reaching out to touch fire, or a young officer ready to charge into battle for the first time she had a strong sense of apprehension. A feeling of something very bad on the horizon.

She knew Earth history, she had studied it often between her work and her battles. When she wasn't overseeing massive assaults or the squealing resistance of some random alien pinned to her operating table she was reading and watching Earth history. There was a surprising amount of information floating around the electronic mediums of the galaxy and Jha'dur had gathered as much as possible.

She had found an insight into human kind, something the Council did not have and would not take her word on. She had seen the wars of Earth's past, the conquering tyrants and brave resistance. She had seen warriors face odds that made her hair stand on end, and seen images of war machines that shook the ground, battleships, tanks, huge waves of propeller driven bombers. The Dilgar had similar inventions and she could find similar examples in her own worlds archives, but it was how Earth fought that concerned her.

The Dilgar had a concept called 'Blood wind' that called for pure sacrifice in war, that the death of the enemy was the sole concern and sacrificing ones own life would lead to eternal glory. It was matched by the Earth concept of 'Kamikaze' from an island nation.

The Dilgar practised 'The Tsunami' during attacks, a strategy based on overwhelming firepower, multiple linked forces operating in perfect union and an emphasis on speed and initiative. On Earth it was called 'Blitzkrieg' and disturbingly similar.

Almost every Dilgar war winning tactic was duplicated among humans, she had read Clausewitz twice in shock, had actually adopted lessons learned from Machiavelli that were better than the cut throat games of the rest of the Warcouncil, and was shocked to see Sun Tzu had written his rules of war millenia earlier. Not only was Earth a significantly knowledgeable military power, it had been for thousands of years.

That sort of history does not just vanish. Whatever her operatives told her, whatever the Council chose to believe, whatever Earth did or did not show to her, it knew how to fight. They knew not just War, but Total War, a concept previously only known to the Dilgar.

"Warmaster?"

Captain An'jash's voice brought Jha'dur back to the dim light of the command deck.

"Yes Captain?"

"Multiple Jump points Warmaster, Sectors twenty two to Forty."

"Broad front assault." Jha'dur recognized. "Simple brute force approach, they'll come at us at flank speed. Warn all ships to prepare for ramming attacks and deploy accordingly."

"Transmitting Warmaster."

"I don't expect clever tactics, the Markab are brave and smart, but they will have very limited control over their frenzied crews. Their Admiral may know his business, but it won't matter. This is a horde, an armed rabble, and we will respond accordingly."

The Markab force was indeed large and proceeding directly towards the Dilgar, they wer ein a lose formation spread out to hit the Dilgar fleet evenly across its front in all three dimensions, which gave the Strike Fleet plenty of targets to fire on without wasting shots.

Both sides dropped fighters and took an aggressive stance, the Dilgar out ranged and outgunned the Markab but in their current state nothing short of total destruction would halt a Markab vessel. It would be quite a test of gunnery.

Inside the Senate there was a constant rise and fall of voices as hundreds of conversations ran simultaneously. They ranged from topics as diverse as military spending, welfare reforms, economic slowdowns in some of the national economies down to a senators taste in clothes or accounts of family dinners over Christmas. But mostly the conversations all came to a common theme in the end, that of the Dilgar.

The Senate itself was fairly well briefed on the matter and had recently heard of the Dilgar strikes on the Markab. So far their alien allies had asked simply for supplies and economic aide, confident their military could stop the Dilgar without human help. All that could change very quickly however if the Dilgar earned a major victory, as was looking rather likely based on earlier performances.

What happened next was the big question.

The Markab were meant to serve as a kind of buffer zone between Earth and the Dilgar, a slightly cynical policy perhaps but one which the various Senators had been happy to accept. The Dilgar were a distant enemy, a world on the wrong side of known space fighting aliens most humans knew very little about. It just wasn't Earth's problem.

With Markab now likely to fall however Earth found itself without that buffer and with a very large, very aggressive Empire on its doorstep. The distant war had come home with a crash and now nobody on Earth could continue to ignore or discount it.

Even before the League Ambassadors spoke there was a growing swell of concern, even fear regarding the Dilgar menace and the cold realisation that something was going to have to be done. Something unambiguous and decisive. The Senate was finding itself backed into a corner with very few options left to them. Today would be the last day Earth remained neutral. One way or another a decision was coming, a change, and the Senate knew it.

"You can feel the tension." Kalika whispered quietly from the cool hallway, so nervous she felt none of the benefits of the gentle air conditioning. "It's like electricity in the air."

"It is actually a good thing." Itala said. "They are worried by the Dilgar, and that shows they actually appreciate the enormity of the threat on their doorstep. We were all so confident in our fleets and strength, we didn't stop to really analyse the Dilgar, to see just how deadly they were. But these people, they know."

"Ambassador Sheridan tells me the attack on Markab has prompted Earth Force to prepare for war." Kalika informed. "As we speak ships and troops are gathering."

"A wise precaution, but it doesn't meant they will launch an attack. We still have to convince them Kalika, we must, or all is lost."

Kalika nodded in silent agreement. "If anyone in the League can it is you, I have never seen a more passionate speaker."

"It has not served us well so far."

"Perhaps fate was saving its influence until now?" Kalika suggested. "The Descari and Markab are strong, but only a shadow of the might Earth can deploy if Ambassador Sheridan is correct."

"I hope so." Itala said. "They have more power than the Narn, but the Dilgar still outnumber Earth and its ships."

"Their quality and determination will make up for their lack of numbers, as it did with the Persephone."

"Let us pray we will have an opportunity to find out." The old Ambassador took a series of deep breaths. "I had always believed in the water spirits and the divine, that they preserved our race from our enemies. This war destroyed my faith, I did not believe they could allow such death and pain to occur, to stand by while such suffering was inflicted all around. I have little faith left Kalika, but I hope today it will be restored."

The door to the senate chamber opened allowing a man to walk out. He quickly located the two Abbai and walked briskly towards them.

"Ambassador Sheridan." Itala bowed slightly. "Once again I thank you for your efforts helping us prepare."

"Least I could do." The human accepted. "What's happening out there is the greatest crime in history, it sickens me more than anything else I could possibly conceive of. Something has to be done, and this is how we start."

"What is the mood in the Senate?" Kalika prompted.

"Expectant." Sheridan answered. "By now everyone knows about the Markab coming under attack and it's sparked a huge desire to learn more about who the Dilgar are and what they might one day do to us. Because you have been through it, seen Dilgar atrocities first hand, they will listen to you."

"But will they act?"

Sheridan exhaled and looked at the ceiling for a moment. "I can't say." He admitted apologetically. "You have allies in there, but there are still plenty of people who don't want a war. I don't know what will happen, it's too close to predict."

Itala absorbed the information and forced her nerves to hold.

"One good speech could turn this." Kalika whispered. "It could sway the undecided and give us the help we so vitally need."

"It's happened before." Sheridan agreed. "One voice can change the world."

"My life has been dedicated to this." Itala said whimsically, almost distantly. "Using words to bring about a change for the better. It was our way."

The Senate door opened again.

"That's the signal." Sheridan gestured. "it's time. You remember the protocol?"

"Clearly." Itala replied.

"Good luck Ambassador." Kalika bowed. "I will be in the gallery with the other Ambassadors."

"Good luck." Sheridan concurred. "You can do this."

Itala stepped forward towards the door, a blazing portal of light leading to the assembled dignitaries beyond. There was no turning back, no room for doubt. She strode confidently because that's all she could now do, and with the fate of billions on her shoulders Ambassador Itala became the first Alien to step onto the floor of the Senate since First Contact.

The Senate chamber was a multi tiered semi circular room which was a common design for government buildings among humans. The Senators sat shoulder to shoulder among the tiers facing a small area at the centre of the room where a table and chair was provided for Itala, along with a jug of water and a small computer. Behind that was another bank of raised podiums where a smaller number of humans sat including the chairman of the meeting, a man with the title of 'Speaker of the House' who would start proceedings.

Above them on the back wall was a large video screen which Itala would make use of, while on the round opposite wall in galleries above the senators massed news crews fought for space to see this event, their pictures beamed live worldwide on a hundred channels including ISN which would be seen beyond Earths borders. It was a good bet the Narn and Centauri were watching this, and if they had any sense Dilgar military intelligence would also be paying attention.

As she walked between the wooden tiers down from the back of the Senate to the floor Itala was aware of the eyes viewing her, taking her measure and character from her appearance. As such she walked without fear or distraction to the table, showing this world and any others watching that she was not afraid, for her mission transcended fear.

Itala moved behind the desk, electing to stand and not use the provided chair. In front of her the Senate was a sea of black and white clothing mixing in wit the warm wood of the furniture. The human government all seemed to be dressed similarly in well tailored black or grey suits with white shirts or blouses. Even the females were dressed in suits very similar to those of their male counterparts. It created a severe and sober picture, heightened by the obvious concern on their faces.

In contrast Itala wore flowing robes of red and blue, light and airy fabrics which billowed and danced playfully whenever she moved. It was such a contrast, yet for the Abbai her clothing was an example of formal wear, and her mood had nothing light or playful about it. She stood as a small explosion of colour amid the monochrome ranks of Senators, standing clearly out to television audiences everywhere.

"Members of the Senate and honoured guests, I call the house to order."

The Speaker of the house was an experienced and steady Senator named Luis Santiago, a representative of the Central American Confederation. He was a senior member of the opposition party in relation to President Hauser's ruling body, somewhat more liberal Santiago was neutral on the issue of military action but had recently become more and more sympathetic to the League.

Santiago was a moral man, but also a practical one. He appreciated that Earth was new to galactic affairs but believed all races have a greater responsibility to their neighbours, and over the months had started to ask whether or not Earth should now accept some responsibility for the current state of the Galaxy.

His Party contained most of the anti-war voters, while Hauser's was more unite don intervention. However his party were also moved by the plight of the League and felt a desire to help. The speech would be very important to them.

"Our one order of business in this special meeting of the house is to hear a speech by League representatives regarding the current Galactic situation. May I introduce Ambassador Itala of the Abbai Matriarchy."

Normally such an introduction was met with applause, but not today. The Senators were so focused, so apprehensive and on edge they did not think to clap. Itala faced a wall of empty space, a vacuum as harsh as that Captain Cashic plied to bring them here, a whole galaxy waited for her words in complete and utter silence.

It was mirrored in homes over the world, and in the study of President Hauser's home. It was too great a risk for him to be there so he watched on a secure link with Director Durban and General Denisov seated beside him. In the Senate itself Vice President Levy represented the Executive branch of government waiting just as expectantly as the rest for Itala to begin.

"General, what is our current status?" Hauser asked, barely a whisper as Itala prepared.

"We have two fleets at Altair ready to jump as soon as the vote comes in." Denisov answered. "With two more at Eridani that are awaiting supplies. I estimate two days until they can move."

"Ground forces?"

"Our support ships are gathering at Mars, we can lift all twelve divisions to the front in batches of six. The first can be ready as early as tomorrow morning."

"And the second?"

"They'll go in with the Eridani fleets two to three days later."

The President regarded Director Durban. "The Dilgar?"

"Latest reports show they have landed troops on Tiree with minimal orbital support, looks like they want to take it intact for some reason."

"And the other colony, Troth?"

Durban shook his head. "Levelled."

"Based on Dilgar fleet strength we'll need all four fleets to match them." Denisov informed. "And that's factoring in Markab losses."

On the screen Itala took a drink and raised her head.

"It appears we are about to begin." Hauser noted. "I will hear your thoughts at the end."

"Knight lead to Knight squad, set Raptor formation and prepare for high speed interception."

Skimming past the green metal sea of the Dilgar warships the various Thorun squadrons linked up and mapped out their engagement zones. Ari'shan's Knight squadron as usual led the pack, providing a fearless example for the other squadrons to follow.

His flight computer beeped and began scrolling text.

"Orders from command," Ari'shan read. "All fighters concentrate on enemy light craft. Command expects enemy fighters to ram Capital ships, it is imperative Thorun details prevent this. Use any and all methods to achieve this."

He sent the acknowledgement and noted the various squadrons taking their places.

"Alright Knights, we have been challenged to a duel, one more test of our prowess. Find a target, engage and destroy immediately. The Warmaster is watching, conduct yourselves accordingly."

Ari'shan was not merely choosing an evocative name for his squadron when he called them Knights, in his view that is what they were. Chivalrous and honourable warriors of the sky seeking single combat with like spirited enemies. There was no hate like regular Dilgar, there was even respect and recognition of their opponents skill and courage.

Many in the Imperium called them anachronistic and looked down on their prosaic view of war. But no one could deny their skill and the handful of elite squadrons had quickly become legend. Ari'shan had inspired at least five squadrons of similar minded people in different fleets, but the Knights were still regarded as the best in the Navy.

"Lead fighters heading straight for the line."

Ari'shan accepted the warning. "They're ignoring us, mustn't think we're worth the effort. Very well, pick your targets and attack."

The Thoruns turned away in perfect unison and swooped down towards the combs of Markab squadrons blazing at high speed towards the main fleet formations. The Markab did not take evasive action or even give any indication they had seen Ari'shans forces, though logically they should.

"Looks like they aren't prepared to accept our challenge." Officer Car'nal huffed from Knight Three. "Do we engage?"

"They have challenged the whole fleet." Ari'shan answered. "We may fire at will."

The waves of Markab Drofta class fighters were not to be taken lightly, while slower, less agile and not as well armed as Thoruns they were tough ships with better armour. They also had a longer acceleration time meaning they had achieved a high relative velocity compared to the newly launched Dilgar craft and if they did want to ram the warships of the First Strike Fleet they would be hitting with the force of a hyper velocity missile.

Dogfighting these fighters wasn't going to be a challenge, however intercepting them held a great deal of risk. The closing speed between the Thoruns and Droftas was extremely high giving the Dilgar at best a second or two to register their shots before needing to get out of the way. It was unlikely the Markab were going to give way.

With a silent roar the purple drive flashes of the Thoruns fired them into the path of the Droftas, rolling for precise alignment and disengaging the safeties. Ari and his squad mates engaged with the precision they were famous for, hitting the low profile front sections of the incoming Markab before rapidly evading all in the space of three seconds. The burning wreckage of their kills passing past in disintegrating white light.

"Do we turn and go after the rest?" Car'nal wondered.

"We'll neve rcatch them, leave them to the rest of the squadrons and point defences." Ari'shan ordered. "Line up on the second wave, same drill, shoot and evade."

In the Senate Itala took a final steadying breath, prayed her voice would hold, then began.

"Senators and Citizens of Earth, I wish to thank you for hearing me out. When I began my long journey I thought of myself as a representative of the League of Non Aligned worlds, but as I travelled I came to realise that this was not true. The League is dead, as I speak it is drawing its last laboured breaths, pierced mortally through its many hearts. While its life bleeds away I realised that it's soul, its essence, had long since departed.

"The League of Non Aligned Worlds was a dream, a vision of peaceful unity created by peoples who had been slaves and victims of Centauri aggression. We would unite to form a strong unity, brought together through fear we would stay together through friendship. In peace we would trade openly and freely, in disaster we would give aid and shelter, in war we would fight together against the aggressors. It was a dream, but little more.

"We forgot to accept the nature of all sentient beings, the capriciousness and selfish nature of life. Our trade was met with greed and avarice, disaster relief was withheld because of cost or political motivations, and in war, well I am sure the Dilgar can explain better than I the League's failings in battle.

"That bright hope we had on the day of founding was buried by conveniece, its purity muddied and torn by self service and apathy. We were already hollow, rotten through, it just took a slight tap to crumble our treaties and ideals into the dust they had become as valuable as. And the Dilgar did not tap us, they drove a mallet through our eggshell of an Alliance."

The Senate made no motion, no sound or comment. They just listened.

"The League is dead, its ideals and ambitions cast into ruin. But for all that the League was just politics, some words on a page. I do not laments its death because the League was poisoned from within and was not fit to live. But it is not the organisation which is paying the price for it's short sightedness, it is those who live within it's boundaries. Death is not confined to the tables of Presidents and Kings, it haunts all our worlds like a cold night slaying mercilessly. This death has a name and a face, it changes through the ages but today Death has made its home on Omelos."

The large screen behind activated, showing a green, blue and white world hanging serenely in the emptiness.

"Alaca." She informed. "A small world, inoffensive, peaceful."

Clearly noticeable even over such a distant overview bright flashes began to dot the surface, gleaming spheres of light that were consumed in dirty brown and black clouds.

"As you can see Dilgar Mass Drivers are truly horrific weapons. True instruments of Mass destruction."

Black clouds spread, more sprouting as the bombardment continued.

"With no defences and their tiny fleet destroyed there was no opposition. In the few moments you have been watching over a billion Alacans died. One Billion lives. One Billion."

She let the words hang.

"AN hour later half the planetary population was dead, we have no idea how many are left today. The images came from the only Alacan ship to survive, the Pyrotinia, A crew as brave and even as any I have met. I am not worthy to stand in their presence."

"When they came to us, the League ignored them." Itala said forcefully. "We saw this footage, we condemned the Dilgar, we took the moral high ground and decried the crimes against life. And that was all. We sent no ships, no troops, no great mobilisation. Nothing. The Dilgar then were weak, the Brakiri or Abbai alone may well have beaten them. It is a cruel twist that the ships used to destroy the League were made from resources strip mined from Alaca. An eternal reminder of our failing."

The image changed to a browner world.

"Balos." Itala announced.

Seconds later massive explosions silently engulfed its cities too.

"Utriel"

More destruction.

"Comac, Brakir, Latig, I could show these images for hours." Itala claimed harshly. "These worlds paid the price for our failures, billions after billions of lives are gone because we did not act, we did not oppose the Dilgar while we had a chance for victory. We did not unite, we remained divided, deluded, afraid. Because of it, we died. The League and its dependants."

She looked about the still frozen Senators.

"The Dilgar started this war, but it is the League who must be blamed for the current situation. We were formed to prevent just such a thing happening and we failed totally. Instead our inaction has created the largest and most aggressive Empire known to exist, rivalling the Centauri at their height. Because of us, this menace now sits on your doorstep."

"I have accepted this fact and do not deny it, we were wrong and we in the former League do not expect sympathy for our leaders. We brought this upon ourselves through our isolation and unwillingness to take a stand and do the right thing. But what I do ask is that you remember the people of the League now suffering under Dilgar occupation. This is my one and only concern and the reason I have travelled across the League with Dilgar warships hunting our group at every turn."

She brought up images of women and children behind wire fences.

"These images were beamed out from Mitoc. It is just a snap shot of a wider crisis. More than half the population of the galaxy faces this, invasion, occupation and extermination by the Dilgar."

More images flicked up from Balos, these showing far more emaciated prisoners.

"Torture is the Dilgar way, to them we are nothing, vermin to be used how they please."

Images of increasingly thinner and more ill looking people crossed the screen as Itala spoke.

"Reports show League worlds are being used for military experiments, Krish, one of our most peaceful worlds is now used for Mass Driver target practice. Latig was infected with a plague just so Warmaster Jha'dur could time how long it took for the population to die."

The images continued.

"Refugee ships are destroyed. People worked to death building Dilgar weapons. Whole cities wiped out on a whim. Our civilization, our worlds, our people are slowly dying. We can do nothing to stop them, and in a few months the galaxy will be a very different, emptier place."

The rolling images stopped on a child staring past barbed wire with sunken terrified eyes in a skeletal face. It was so similar to the other images it took a few heartbeats for the Senate to identify the race. The Child was not Abbai or Brakiri, but in fact human.

"The nightmare we face is not unique in the history of the galaxy. It has happened before, and one place it occurred was your world two centuries ago."

The photograph faded and was replaced by ancient news footage so old it wasn't even in colour, let alone holographic. It showed ranks of men marching in tight files down a cobbled street somewhere in Europe, black uniforms immaculately pressed and steel helmets glinting as they passed. They had rifles sloped at their shoulders, bayonets at their side and on their arms the crooked cross of the Swastika.

"Two centuries ago a group called the Nazis did to your nations of Europe what the Dilgar today are doing to us." Itala narrated, on the screen the strained face of Adolf Hitler yelled fervently and soundlessly to a see of uniformed men waving flags and eagle standards.

"The Nazi regime was, like the Dilgar, a government based on dominance, highly militarised in nature it perceived it had a higher destiny, that its neighbours had been to blame for all its problems and the world could be made right under their rule, at the point of a gun. The rest of the world disagreed, and paid for it."

The old news footage turned to show simple tanks storming across landscapes and propeller driven bombers diving and strafing tiny dots on the ground, people.

"The Dilgar news service is constantly reminding its people that they need living space, that they must expand and take more territory if they are to prosper and embrace destiny. It is the same words, almost exactly the same words, that the Nazi's used to justify their invasion of peaceful neighbours."

The black and white footage showed stiff looking men in suits debating with each other, trying to come to a united course of action.

"Europe and the world did not treat the Nazi's like the threat they were, and by the time they truly realised what was at stake it was too late. The old nations of the world fell quickly, one after another until only an isolated island stood to oppose the full might of the Nazis. But it did not end there, for emboldened by their success they attacked other nations and here the true slaughter began. Just as it has done recently across the League."

The battle lines closed in on each other, with the Dilgar moving very slowly into weapons range.

"Lead elements in range." An'jash reported to the Fleet Commander.

"Engage." Jha'dur ordered bluntly. "Fire three salvoes, then full reverse engines."

"Reverse Warmaster?"

"Give them ground Captain, we can't outrun them but the further we pull back the more time we have to turn those Markab cruiser into coffins. Relay the orders, then order our own gun crews to fire at will."

The front of the Dilgar fleet erupted in light like so many times before, and like all those earlier engagements their enemies were blasted by well aimed and well timed volleys. The righteous fury of Markab warrior priests was extinguished in the cold vacuum of space, our out burned in the heat of a rending laser cannon. Scores of Markab vessels were destroyed, even more damaged and wounded by glancing hits and this was still at long range. The closer they got the more destructive and accurate the Dilgar became.

Yet the Markab did not flinch or falter, if anything the losses just made them more enraged, their hearts thirsting for vengeance the Markab fleet raced on spewing its own crimson and yellow energies of destruction.

Ari'shan wheeled his fighter around as the gun exchanges began in earnest, taking his squadron away from the massive crossfire forming a shrinking grid between the warships.

"That's it, lets pull away." He ordered. "Take a flank and look out for enemy strike fighters or bombers trying to circumvent the barrage."

"I don't see any." Car'nal grunted. "They're going right down the middle, right into the teeth of the Strike Fleet."

He was right, and it was amazing to behold. They were a glittering field of tiny ships catching the light of the thousand suns blazing from guns to hulls amid the battle space, not weaving or dodging but careening ahead with the sureness of the gods own warriors. Whole squadrons were sliced into oblivion by a laser cannon aimed at a distant Markab cruiser, or pummelled by bolt rounds, or if they made it far enough swept contemptuously aside by pulsar batteries on the Dilgar warships.

It was slaughter and something the Dilgar were used to, but where other League powers rushed to their deaths through ignorance the Markab did so through zeal, their judgement clouded by a lifetime of faith and doctrine. They knew no other way to lead into battle, and the Dilgar cut them to pieces.

Ari'shan absently wondered if one day the indoctrination and blind arrogance of his own race may result in such an event befalling them. He surmised it might, but not so long as Jha'dur held her power.

In Bremen President Hauser watched with a stony face as Itala showed image after image of war. The President had seen most of it before in school, the horrors of the Nazi era were still taught in Earth schools and especially in Germany and Austria where there was still a deep undercurrent of regret and sadness.

Long centuries had passed but the memory of that taint still endured in Germany. Even a few decades after the Nazi regime fell Germany had become a totally different nation dedicated to a peaceful way of life. It placed its efforts into industry and commerce becoming one of the most powerful of the worlds economies, a title still held today with an annual turn over superior to some smaller alien planets. German efficiency had entered the global vernacular and it was generally accepted that a product made in Germany would be of the highest quality, from pens to cars to fusion reactors.

Even so, even after so much time and so many contributions to help benefit the world the shadow of the Nazi regime could never truly disappear, and many believed it never should. Better to remember the pain and live with it rather than forget and one day repeat it.

Germany had gradually returned to a position of global influence, restoring its political influence as part of the foundation of the European Union and eventually its military credentials in the later stages of World War Three. German entry into the war as part of the EU task force was hotly debated in the Reichstag and met a great deal of public opinions from all spectrums, before ultimately the decision was made to fight alongside the other NATO forces. The German army distinguished itself and firmly settled any ghosts that had docked it since the last great war, proving as skilled and level as any other professional army.

Watching his history displayed in the Senate was like something stripping the flesh from his heart, the shame of it and the regret battling with Hauser's pride that his nation had come from so low and risen so far in its history. His nation had atoned and made peace with its past, and the world had accepted that bringing Germany without question back into the brotherhood of nations. But even so, it was a painful experience.

"Only in the middle of the war did the true horror begin to emerge." Itala continued. "Death camps, slave labour, mass executions on a scale unthinkable to civilisation at the time. People died in millions for no reason other than their place of birth, their ancestry, the creeds of their forefathers or choices of conscience. Earth learned a new word, Holocaust, and with it some innocence in the human spirit died.

"But more than the factories of death was the cruelty, medical experiments on living beings conducted in the name of science. Mental torture combined with physical abuse carried out with no conscience. The Nazis made a whole breed of people for whom the sufferings of their fellow man meant nothing, because they saw anyone who was not like them as vermin to be exterminated. The exact words used by the Dilgar Warcouncil two centuries later.

"Despite some minor set backs the Nazi war machine ground on, destroying all in its path. Until one day they made a mistake, their reach extended beyond their grasp and they brought another nation of the Earth into war, an event which shifted the balance of power and signalled the end for the Nazis and their equally loathsome Imperial Japanese allies.

"But while in the end they were defeated humanity learned its lessons well. The Nazis were insatiable in their desire for conquest like the Dilgar, they will attack anyone they see as an easy target, and right now I guarantee you they think Earth is weak. They murder without a hint of conscience and wage war with such brutality it makes the Eastern European front of the Nazi war pale in every way. They are committing genocide in the most heinous form, using women and children in experiments whose very thought turns the stomach of any feeling sentient. They are worse than the Nazis, far, far worse, and they are coming for you."

Behind the gunfire the Dilgar ships were burning their retro thrusters hard, pushing the vessels backward though still in perfect formation. The Deathwalker was rattling as the engines and guns combined to shake its fixtures and fittings. Jha'dur closed her eyes and focused on the sound, her trained ear telling her the stresses were still well within tolerances. She had after all designed this very class of vessel with her team, and this flagship in particular.

"Heavy losses to the Markab Warmaster, but they have not slowed down or turned away." An'jash reported.

"Nor will they." Jha'dur predicted. "If one lives he will take on the whole fleet, an amazing display of zeal but fruitless."

"Warmaster, you once said one ship opposing many was an act of great courage and honour." An'jash spoke respectfully. "Is this not the same?"

"You refer to Tirrith, that one Earth Cruiser." Jha'dur nodded. "There is a difference, the Markab do not think they will die, that if they are pure the gods will give them the power to kill us all. That human ship, they knew they were dead but they attacked anyway, not just fought, but attacked. It is a big difference, the difference between fighting for a cause and willingly giving up your life for it. The latter is much, much more dangerous."

"The Markab do not do that?"

"Not willingly Captain, though the result is the same." Jha'dur watched on as more ships were destroyed under her command, the Dilgar gunners unfazed by the shaking ship or reverse course and still as pinpoint as ever.

"Open a general channel."

An'jash frowned. "Not secured to the fleet Warmaster?"

"Just general." She ordered. "Receive only."

An'jash did as she was instructed, and as soon as the speakers activated they were filled with voices crying out in a mix of tones.

"By the gods! What is that noise?" she grimaced.

"The Markab." Jha'dur sat up straight, fascinated. "War prayers, challenges to us, supplications to the gods. Quite an experience, this hasn't been heard in a thousand years."

"I'm not surprised." The aide remarked sardonically.

"I am not very well versed in Markab speech, but I can tell the loudest prayer is for forgiveness." Jha'dur heard. "They ask for the cleansing light to forgive them."

"Why Warmaster?"

"Because they failed, listen more, you can hear their bulkheads creaking and splitting. They are on a heavily damaged ship."

An'jash strained her ears, but couldn't really tell.

"They think the blessing of the gods has been withdrawn from them." The Warmaster inclined her head. "That they were not worthy to battle in their name and now have been forsaken, abandoned to the demons."

"That would be us?" An'jash asked.

"Indeed Captain, we're the demons."

The high pitched frantic praying was overwhelmed in a screech of metal and roar of air, then disappeared.

"Mark that as a cruiser kill Captain." Jha'dur said detached. "And find me another critical ship, I find these death chants most intriguing."

"At once Warmaster." An'jash replied. There were many to choose from.

"One day, maybe sooner, maybe later, the Dilgar will wage war on Earth. If you wait perhaps you will buy time, but more likely the threat will diminish in the public eye, Earth will return to normal life in its own borders and peace will reign. For a while.

"Then one day the Dilgar will cross your borders in overwhelming force, with the resources of the League under their domination their fleets will be vast, advanced and even more ruthless as no one has stood up to them. They wiped out the League with the resources of just five worlds, and only three of those had decent populations. Now they have over forty planets, mining stations or resource centres under their control and will soon begin exploiting them. With the efficiency of the Dilgar, their skill at arms and their ruthless soldiers they will conquer all in their path. Then they will do murder.

"Leave them alone and they grow stronger, strong to the point where it will not matter if you fight or not, they will win through total numerical superiority. If anyone is to fight the Dilgar they must do it sooner, not later. They must decide quickly and strike while the Dilgar are overstretched, weak and vulnerable. They must attack while they still have allies in the League who can aid them and while there is still some life left to save resisting the Dilgar.

"I beg you for your own sakes to attack now while you have the advantage and not wait until the Dilgar rebuild. I beg you for the sake of my people to strike soon and drive back the Dilgar so my people will live to see freedom once again. For the sake of the galaxy I beg you to stop this menace before it grows into a superpower and dictates life and death for all known races. And for the sake of the future I beg you to remember the words of your own people two centuries ago. Never Again."

Itala stepped back, behind her the screen showing a pit at Auswitz filled with piled bodies, and beside it an almost identical image of the same scene on Mitoc, so close in appearance it was unnatural. The Senate still did not say anything, through the whole speech absolutely no utterance had been heard, not a thing. Itala's robes were as loud as thunder as she left the floor and walked up to the door which was opened before her, letting her leave the chamber.

"Senators." Santiago spoke, his voice sounding forced as if he'd much rather just be quiet. "We will now vote on resolution five one three six eight six. The votes are yes or no and will be cast using a secret ballot. A three quarter majority is required to pass the resolution and enact a response. After voting this session of the house will close."

Santiago stepped back from the speakers chair and cast his own vote, the one his conscience told him to vote for. He opted for war. Vice President Levy was next, then Secretary of State Brogan and Foreign Secretary Grenville. All voted the same way. One by one each Senator made his or her voice heard, until finally the Government had made its choice.

From his vantage point Ari'shan had a grandstand view as the Markab force expended itself without great effect against the Strike fleet. It was breathtaking to watch, if chilling to witness thousands of beings snatched from the universe in such a violent manner. As a Dilgar he naturally enough felt little sympathy, and even if he had he knew these were soldiers who had chosen to fight knowing death could be their end. He appreciated that they had found a warriors death, and they passed with honour.

It was a Death Ride, a screaming roaring fury of fire and ice, blazing guns and freezing vacuum claiming the Markab fleet ship by ship, and soul by soul. A magnificent spectacle in a very morbid sort of way, like the universe wanted the Markab to die and was making it as easy as possible for Jha'dur.

"I can't make out any targets." Car'nal said hesitantly.

"No, nor I." Ari'shan confirmed. "And I wouldn't take us into that hell storm for nothing. Hold position and keep watching for a flanking force."

He didn't expect one, the Markab were far too focused on just getting to grips with the Dilgar all thoughts of tactics and even common sense had left them. Even the Drazi were not so stubborn in their assaults, on one level it was frightening. On another it was just very sad.

"Such a waste of good soldiers." Ari'shan sighed. "Pity."

Jha'dur was unaware of how long it lasted, the battle could have been hours or minutes, it had blended together. She hadn't needed to issue further orders or react to a changing situation because simply put the situation had not changed once.

She noted the last four Markab ships rushing along the exact same course from the exact same place as every other Markab vessel. The guns of her immediate escort forces elevated to track them, slowly rotating as the gunners quickly calculated the correct deflection to hit the fast moving cruisers, then activated the firing chambers and rattled the ship with the recoil of the main batteries.

The heavily protected Markab ships took the first few hits, jolting and slipping as the force of the strikes pushed them in the opposite direction to the impact, but ultimately the volume of fire proved too much. The final few ships shared the fate of all those that had come before, cracked and broken shells fit only to be recycled into a new generation of Dilgar warships.

"All sensors report clear." An'jash finished her monitoring of the battle and shut down her sensor link. "Minimum power readings from fourteen wrecks, probably some trapped crews in sealed areas."

"Stop engines. Send a destroyer group to clean them up, no survivors."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Munition status?"

"Within expected levels, but we will need to refuel before proceeding to Markab itself."

"Very well Captain, contact the local supply ships and have them meet us at the rally point." Jha'dur ordered. "Sha'dur can take over this system and support our ground troops, our business lies elsewhere."

After sending the orders An'jash relaxed a little in her chair, appreciating the rather informal atmosphere Jha'dur maintained. The Warmaster trusted her crews to conduct themselves properly without the strict enforcement of protocol at every turn, especially in battle. Even if they didn't salute or end every sentence with 'Warmaster' Jha'dur knew they respected her and were utterly loyal and devoted, her ego didn't need to be reminded of it every few seconds.

"I understand the forces on Tiree are under the command of the Supreme Warmaster's son?"

"One of them, yes." Jha'dur confirmed. "Kem'shan, he has ten divisions including a Guards division."

"I didn't think they sent Guard divisions into the field?" An'jash mused. "They were for use on Omelos only."

"We're running low on spare divisions, the Guards are among the best soldiers we have, second to none in their prestige and training. They make Stormtroopers look like Abbai Police officers."

An'jash laughed. "With respect Warmaster I'd take a regular division over Stormtroopers any day."

"Honestly, so would I." Jha'dur agreed. "Stormtroopers tend to be too political, more like enforcers than fighters. Still, with all the worlds we've taken we need people like that to keep our slaves in line."

"Executioners and Concentration Camp Guards." An'jash remarked with distaste. "Thugs in uniform Warmaster."

"We still need people like that." Jha'dur responded. "They will never earn the glory of true warriors like this fleet or Kem'shan's divisions, but they are necessary none the less."

"I'm just glad we're up here and they are down there." An'jash shuddered.

"We all face their choice Captain, sometimes brutality is the only answer."

"I appreciate that Warmaster, and that mercy is a weakness." An'jash agreed readily. "But killing because we have to is different from killing because we enjoy it. Those Stormtroopers, they enjoy what they do. They don't kill for Omelos like us, they do it for amusement."

Jha'dur was going to answer but stopped. She knew what she did in her labs was for the benefit of all Dilgar kind, but she could not deny that she was often smiling as she went to her work. She never questioned her motives, but at the same time she never stopped to ask if she was prolonging the effects on her subjects simply to feel a power over them, even to glory in their weakness and her strength. An'jash had just forced her to look in a mirror, and it was not an image she was wholly comfortable with.

"The first of our fighters are returning home." Her aide announced, bringing the Warmaster back to her senses.

"And Knight Squadron?"

"No losses Warmaster."

She allowed a moment of relief, Jha'dur considered herself a steward for Ari'shan, a big sister trying to keep him safe. It was not easy with someone so forthright in a warzone, but by surrounding him with similarly minded and exceptional skilled pilots she was investing in some insurance. Each of those pilots would sacrifice themselves for Ari'shan, and if they didn't, if by some failing Ari'shan died and they saved their own skins, then Jha'dur would ensure the survivors and their skins did not stay together for long.

"Signal Omelos, tell them the Markab navy is broken." Jha'dur ordered, forced by formality to report her successes to the Council. "We will be moving on the homeworld within a week, probably less than five days if all goes well."

"At once Warmaster."

"Then I want hyperspace sensor buoys deployed at the beacon, facing coreward."

"Coreward, Markab is rimward Warmaster."

"But the Earth Alliance is not." Jha'dur reminded. "And I do not want to be surprised. Set up the beacons then begin a staged withdrawal to the rally point to resupply."

"Understood."

Across the hull there was a constant dull plinking sound, a mix of small dings and more resonant echoes like the chimes of a bell striking the time.

"Fragments of Markab ships." Jha'dur recognised. "Finally reaching our lines."

"This was a great victory Warmaster."

"No, not yet. Not until we burn the Markab homeworld to a smoking cinder." Deathwalker stated coldly. "As long as the Markab live there is a chance Earth will try to save them, so we must ensure there is no one left alive to save."

"Our first true campaign of extermination."

"First of many." Jha'dur said flatly. "And I have just the Biological Agent for this task. I would have preferred to use it on the Yolu, but needs have been dictated for us."

"The fleet stands ready Warmaster."

"Begin Jump sequence." Jha'dur issued the order. "Speed is now our master, we have no time to waste. To delay could be very unfortunate." She paused. "Especially if the humans notice what we are doing in time to try and stop us."

Mars

It was with a moment of fascination he watched the wisp of cold air rise from the neck of the bottle, a white wisp of frozen gas and vapour snaking up from the neck and fading into the warm air of the apartment. The effect was momentary, but quite fascinating.

"You gonna drink that Freddy, or maybe propose to it?"

Alfredo Garibaldi shot a look at his friend Bugs perched on the sofa beside him, with Tucker leaning back in a chair not far beyond.

"You need to get some perspective my friend." Garibaldi took a long swig of the icy beer, savouring the chill he received. "For one thing I'm already married."

"Oh yeah," Private 'Bugs' Malone grinned widely. "And you wouldn't cheat on her, she's the best looker on the planet."

"Plus she's got Italian blood." Garibaldi reminded. "She'd cut me to pieces while I slept."

The three men were enjoying a slight break at Bug's apartment, a rather small and unkempt place provided by the military for his use rather than have him simply live in the barracks, not that Bugs would mind. While Garibaldi and Tucker had families Bugs was single and the state of his home proved that. However he had beer in the fridge, reasonably comfortable furniture and a huge TV. That had made the place a refuge.

"I forgot to ask," Bugs sipped a beer. "How was your Christmas?"

"Great." Garibaldi couldn't stop a genuine smile. "Having a kid makes it something great."

"Definitely." Tucker agreed. "And they're at that age where they still believe Santa makes it from Earth in a Sleigh to deliver his gifts."

"My Mikey's smarter than that." Garibaldi stated. "He knows he uses a jump drive to make it to Mars in one night."

Tucker laughed. "Can't beat that look on their faces Christmas morning though eh?"

"Makes running around looking for a 'Major Malfunction' battle droid worth while. I had to get that damn thing shipped from Earth. Hundred credits, just listen to that again, a hundred credits!"

"Families ain't cheap." Bugs pointed out.

"Gotta say it was worth it though." Garibaldi grudgingly admitted. "And his birthday is coming up soon, Sophia and I should have timed that one better."

"That's going to hurt your wallet." Tucker winced.

Garibaldi grunted in agreement and drunk some more.

"Well relax for a bit." Bugs said. "This is a family free zone, we've got beer, a giant TV, Pizza delivery guy on speed dial and I think the Dodgers are playing in…fifteen minutes."

"I should probably be getting back." Garibaldi announced with a hint of regret. "Sophia wanted to set up some stuff for New Years Eve."

"No way, not without having another Beer." Bugs ordered jokingly.

"Well, maybe one more." The Sergeant grinned. "Put the TV on when you hit the fridge."

Bugs walked to the kitchen, activating the screen as he passed and showing an ISN reporter sat immaculate behind a silver desk.

"What channel is the game on?" Tucker asked, fumbling with the remote.

"Hang on, put up the volume." Garibaldi said.

Tucker found the controls and did so.

"…With the vote now cast we await the results from the Senate and the President."

"What vote?" Bugs handed more drinks to his friends.

"The League speech was today." Garibaldi reminded. "I meant to watch it, but hey."

"Well we saw it up close." Tucker shuddered a little. "Nasty business."

"They're voting on whether to fight, yeah?" Bugs wondered. "Go help the Markab?"

"That's what I hear." Garibaldi confirmed.

"When will we know?"

"Well the votes are electronic, cast by thumbprint and recorded by a DNA marker to make it totally accurate." The Sergeant spoke. "They'll know the results almost instantly but the announcement will be the big indicator."

"How?"

"If it's peace they'll announce it straight away, or at least tomorrow. If it's war they'll wait until our ships are in place, then announce it so the Dilgar don't get a heads up."

"Wonder how it'll go?" Tucker mused.

There was a beep from Garibaldi's pocket, a repeating chime that cycled every second until he reached in and retracted a small pager device. He held it up and read the message.

"All leave cancelled, report to base by zero six hundred tomorrow morning."

He put the pager back in his pocket with a sigh, as he did so the pagers of the other two soldiers beeped sharing a similar message.

"Guess that answers how the vote went." Garibaldi shrugged.

"Sophia will be disappointed." Tucker said. "She was really hoping for a big New Year party."

"Yeah." Garibaldi nodded. "Well they don't pay us to party, they pay us to crack heads so it looks like we'll be earning some credits soon."

He stood and finished the beer quickly.

"Get some sleep guys, early start tomorrow."

"Well I was getting kinda bored sat around here." Bugs shrugged. "Here we go again."

"Except this time," Garibaldi grinned. "We're gonna have tanks and Dreadnoughts covering our butts. I sense some payback coming on for the Persephone."

"About time." The other two agreed. "For once they did the right thing."

"And our job is to carry it out." Garibaldi confirmed. "I'll see you both in the morning, we've got someone's parade to rain on."


	61. Chapter 61

60

Spaceport Prime

Mars

December 27th 2231

The night had flown quickly and all too soon dawn had risen red and bloody over the Martian sands. The Garibaldi household had already been active with Alfredo packing some basic gear before leaving for the barracks, a pass for his wife and son on the table that would let them into the Spaceport through the tightening security for a final farewell.

The Erwin Rommel barracks were as busy as Garibaldi expected, uniformed men and women crissed and crossed everywhere as he made his way past them to Red Platoons particular building and the small Sergeant's office he occupied just within the doorway.

"Morning Sergeant." A voice halted him inside the doorway.

"Captain Franklin." Garibaldi saluted his company Commander. "I was about to inspect the platoon sir."

"Very good Sergeant, our orders are to be ready to leave at ten hundred, make sure you've packed everything. Supplies are already in the fleet waiting for us, so just bring the basics."

"Understood sir."

"This is for real Sergeant." Franklin stated simply. "They haven't announced it yet, but believe me, this is not going to end with us sat at Altair to make a political point."

"I'm ready sir."

"Good Sergeant, Red Platoon is the first unit in the first company, you'll be leading the way for the Regiment. I have confidence in you and the Platoon." Franklin nodded, allowing a rare smile. "If you see Lieutenant Fox send her my way, I have the roster to give her for Red Platoons billets fleet side."

"Yes sir."

Franklin saluted and left Garibaldi to get his people together.

The muster had been surprisingly dull with the Platoon being prepped and ready to go within half an hour leading to a long wait until the trucks arrived. When they finally did Garibaldi loaded in his people and hopped up last, sitting on the fairly uncomfortable seats and reminding himself it was better than walking.

They arrived at the Spaceport to find the crowds had already gathered and thousands of family members were queuing to get in and wave farewell to their loved ones. The numbers surprised Garibaldi a little, with so many people it had to be a truly massive deployment.

The trucks entered the building and pulled up in a loading dock more used to handling baggage and cargo. Rapidly the jumped off the trucks with their gear stowed in shoulder bags and lined up on the long flat expanse of concrete under the building.

"Red Platoon!" their immediate superior First Lieutenant Sean Brook caught their attention, his bullish voice echoing in the large chamber. "Move out through that door, follow the yellow line to terminal six, gate ninety, and await further instructions."

Brook was relatively new, a replacement for Lieutenant Sanchez who had been killed in action on Tirrith. He was experienced and respected enough, but most of the platoon still preferred Sanchez. However the new Second Lieutenant attached to the Company Headquarters had proven very popular, and naturally it had nothing to do with Lieutenant Emma Fox's short blond air, trim figure and attractive face. Only Corporal Dorothy Harlow seemed to be immune to her requests for volunteers.

Aside from her looks Fox was still a fairly new officer with no combat experience but good potential on the exercise range. With Brook and Franklin as her superiors and Garibaldi backing her up Lieutenant Fox could call on advice from three veteran soldiers to learn how to act like a good junior officer. So far she'd done pretty well, but the coming conflict would be her ultimate test.

In steady and silent lines the platoon headed up through the access doors and into the Space port itself, followed gradually by the rest of the Regiment. Spaceport Prime was the largest facility of its type on Mars and the main transfer point for visitors and travellers to and from the colony. Today about two thirds of its capacity had been turned over to Earth Force and the forecourts and concourses were literally packed with green clad people waiting their turns to leave.

The port was just on the edge of the large habitat dome that encased the city, jutting out like a parasite or limpet nestled in next to the larger structure. In front of the port lay the various launching and landing areas, a mix of rocket pads and long runways, often with a ski jump at the end to give launching shuttles a little help in achieving orbit.

It was an absolutely vast stretch of runways and parking areas and as the platoon arrived at the gate they could see from the windows a sea of metal lined up where civilian shuttles and transports would usually be found.

"Damn." Bugs pressed his nose against the window looking left, then right. "Ever seen so many tanks?"

Garibaldi had not. There were hundreds of them parked in blocks across the spaceport, slowly driving up into heavy lift transports for the journey into orbit and transfer to a troop ship, probably one of the Tantalus or preceding Ixion class heavy movers. Nothing smaller could handle the sort of armour Earth was moving.

As Garibaldi examined further it wasn't just tanks but other vehicles too, scout cars, mobile artillery, IFV's, air defence vehicles, command and communication units, gunships and VTOL transports. All of them scheduled to be loaded up and sent to Markab territory by the thousand.

"That's at least two Armoured divisions." Lieutenant Brook estimated. "Maybe four mechanised too, and I bet those slicks are meant for us." He referred to the Freya class VTOL troop transports, each one able to move a platoon and provide rapid fire PPG support from its mounted guns.

As an airmobile unit the 99th had been assigned to the 101st Airborne Division, a unit with a long and impressive history in humanities armed forces. One of the first and toughest of the Parachute divisions through its nearly two century existence it was an honour for Garibaldi and his people to join their ranks, and while it meant they would be doing more para-dropping as part of a pure airborne unit the 99th was more than ready and eager for it.

"Now hear this," The Spaceport tannoy system sounded. "First battalion, Seventh Cavalry begin embarkation."

"Seventh Cavalry?" Bugs scoffed. "Oh this is great, we're going into battle with the Massacre Magnets!"

It was a slight exaggeration, while the unit had famously rode to ruin with General Custer its actual losses had been far less than the public backlash had suggested. Likewise in World War Three the unit had been caught in a major Chinese offensive in Northern India and was decimated by a pair of tactical Nuclear shells.

They had a reputation for bad luck which was larger unfounded, the Seventh had certainly done hundreds of times more damage that it had received, but a mark like that was hard to shift in the superstitious world of the infantry.

"We'll be heading out soon." Garibaldi guessed, the red and ochre sky filled with smoke trails as shuttles lifted off and headed space wards laden with troops and weapons. Every second saw a ship leaving, or an empty craft returning for a fresh batch of soldiers to deliver to the lumbering warships high overhead.

"Well until then, I spy a vending machine." Tucker grinned.

"Man, have you got a sugar radar or something?" Bugs grinned manically.

"Make mine a Star Bar." Garibaldi chucked and tossed him a half credit coin.

"Too rich for me, just some gum." Bugs produced a quarter.

"Back in a second, hold the shuttle if I ain't there."

Garibaldi went back to looking out of the window, wondering about what would happen next. His thoughts always followed the same pattern, his responsibilities to the platoon, his friends, his superiors, the plans and operations of Earth Force itself, right down to making sure there was food in his pack, smuggled out toilet roll hidden deep under his clothing and small flask of bourbon stowed in his jacket.

But always and without fail his thoughts turned to his family, to how they would cope in his absence, how sweet the return would be, and heaven forbid what would befall Sophia and young Michael if he never walked back through that door again.

A slight scuffle of feet brought his attention away from the dust filled sky beyond and the roaring shuttles to a young man in prim green fatigues loaded down with a very large duffel bag and a lot of anxiety.

"Private Dermot Hannigan reporting for duty sir." The young man said briskly and with force behind his voice.

Garibaldi acknowledged him and held out a hand. "Orders?"

"Oh, yes sir." Dermot quickly reached in a pocket and handed over a folded piece of paper which looked like it had been read a hundred times.

"Well first I'm not a sir." Garibaldi stated. "I'm a Sergeant, which is much better."

"Yes sir…I mean Sergeant."

There was a whistle as Tucker returned. "Heads up!"

Garibaldi grabbed the sugary bar from the air as his comrade threw it his way without breaking concentration.

"New guy?" Bugs sauntered up beside him.

"We finally got our replacement for Harlow." Garibaldi confirmed. The platoon had been a rifleman down since Harlow made Corporal and took on her own squad.

"The morning we ship out, gotta love the Force." Bugs shook his head in exasperation.

"Well, you're all in order Private Hannigan." Garibaldi handed back his papers. "You'll want to talk to Lieutenant Brook, short haired man over there."

"Thank you Sergeant."

"Call me 'Sarge', everyone else does."

"Or 'Crowbar.'" Bugs added.

"Crowbar?"

"Tell him Bugs." Garibaldi allowed.

"The Sarge killed ten Dilgar commandos all alone with just a Crowbar." Bugs said proudly. "It's our company emblem, Daffy Duck with a PPG and a Crowbar." He shrugged. "Unofficial, but the Captain allows it."

Private Hannigan looked suitably impressed, with his jaw hovering close to his ankles.

"It's true, I was there." Tucker affirmed. "Ask anyone in the platoon."

"Wow." The young man exclaimed. "Just…wow."

"So Dermot then." Bugs held out his hand. "Welcome to the Double Nine."

"Glad to be here." He took the hand in a firm grip. "Most guys just call me Dom."

"That's a call sign if I heard one." Tucker grinned. "I'm Bulldog, this is Bugs, that's Hips, and you know Crowbar already."

"I'll do the full rounds when we get space side." Garibaldi assured. "For now go see the Lieutenant and make yourself known, we'll be moving in a few minutes."

Dom nodded eagerly and darted towards Lieutenant Brook, paper in hand.

"Nice kid." Bugs stated. "I vaguely remember being that young and naïve."

"You say that like you grew out of it." Garibaldi raised an eyebrow. "And ten Commandos?"

Tucker laughed. "I swear he doubles it every time he tells that story."

"Next time I'll have stopped the invasion cold." Garibaldi smiled. "You two watch the kid okay, Tucker?"

"Yeah, he can be my new battle buddy, Bugs can hang with you."

"Oh, I feel so relieved." Bugs glared sarcastically at the Sergeant. "You're a good six inches taller than me, you'll draw all the fire."

Garibaldi responded with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. "I still need a potato peeler you know."

The banter was cut off by the spaceport speakers coming to life again, the gentle female tones of the civilian announcer replaced y the dull and flat military officer picked to handle the various movements of men and machines.

"Now hear this, first battalion 99th Airborne move to gate one and standby for departure."

"That's it." Garibaldi screwed up his chocolate wrapper. "Grab your gear." He raised his voice. "Okay Red Platoon, asses and elbows! Grab your gear, leave it and lose it! Lets get it together!"

With resignation the unit picked up their belongings and moved again away from the windows and towards the tunnels that led out towards the launch pads. In file they trounced down the flights of stairs and wound their way through empty stalls and stands. The fast food places were still open however and would probably make more today than in a month of regular service.

They were guided by provosts to their destination, crossing the automatic doors to their final holding place, a large flat room which was connected to the tunnels. But Garibaldi and his colleagues didn't get a chance to see much of their surroundings because there waiting for them were their loved ones. For once the logistics division had got it right and put the right civilians in the right place at the right time.

At once the unit broke up as the soldiers sought out their families or partners and called in joy as they were united again, a few stolen moments of farewell before departure.

It didn't take Garibaldi longer than a few seconds to locate Sophia, her dark hair standing out amid the crowd. At once he rushed to her, and she to him. They met in a warm hug as Garibaldi lifted and spun her before putting her back down and delighting in a lengthy kiss. Instantly after he reached down and picked up his son, hefting the boy up to rest on one arm while he held his wife in the other.

"Whoah Mikey, you really been eating your meals, you weigh a ton!"

"I do not!" the child retorted.

"Well you keep eating them while I'm out on my business trip okay?"

"Can I come too?" he asked.

"I don't think you'll like it." Garibaldi smiled genuinely. "Too cold."

"But I want to go see it, wherever it is!"

"Someday soon, we'll go on a space flight huh?"

"Really?" Michaels face lit up.

"Promise." The elder Garibaldi nodded. "Sergeants honour, can't ever break it now."

His son smiled impossibly wider. "When you get back?"

"When I get back."

He should have put Michael down, his son was not a small child anymore and would be eleven this coming year. His Birthday was quite early in the year and Alfredo was almost certain he was going to miss it. That really hurt.

But he couldn't let go, not of his son or his wife. He needed that physical connection to them both so he could burn the tactile sensation into his mind forever.

"The President hasn't said anything." Sophia said in barely a whisper. "Maybe you'll be back soon."

"Maybe." Garibaldi answered. "I hope so, I really do, but I want you to be ready, I think this is for real."

She rested her head against his chest with such a gentle sigh Alfredo was a heartbeat from just running back into the dome and tossing aside his rank and position.

"I thought I'd lost you the last time you went away."

"This is different now, look at all the folks going with me this time."

"And tanks, and planes." Michael added.

"Exactly." Garibaldi grinned for his son's ease. "Nothing to worry about." He lowered his tone. "Really, it's going to be fine."

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll raise Mikey, then go join a convent."

Sophia shot him a deeply sultry look. "You wish."

"Like there's a Convent out there that could handle you." He kissed her again. "I'm coming back, just might take a while."

"I hear terrible things about the Dilgar, the League speech…"

"Put it out of your head." Garibaldi said firmly. "They did those things to civilians, when we face them we've got rifles, grenades and all sorts of things to prevent that."

"I can't bear that ever happening to you."

"It won't one way or another I'm not going to end up in a Dilgar prison camp."

Sophia hugged him tighter. "Part of me wants to go with you."

"It does, every time I get on a shuttle I'm taking a little piece of you with me. Every time." He held her close, feeling her warmth through his uniform. "You two are what I am out there for, making sure we keep the bad people far away."

"The Cat people?" Michael inquired.

"That's right, you won't have to ever worry about them. That's another promise."

"Sergeant's promise?"

"You bet."

With a sudden hiss the doors to the launch pad tunnels slid open, at almost the same time the flat voice again filled the air.

"Now hear this, First battalion 99th Airborne, begin embarkation."

Garibaldi sighed. "That guy needs some variety."

"You going now daddy?" Michael asked with the forlorn look children do so well.

"Yeah, I gotta go catch a space ship." He gently lowered the boy, all around him the other soldiers were saying their last goodbyes. The emotion in the air was nearly overpowering.

"Don't even think about doing anything stupid." Sophia warned tearfully. "Just run and hide, understand?"

"Yes General." He grinned.

"I am not joking!" she snapped. "Don't you dare get killed, don't you dare!"

"I won't." He held her tight. "I promise."

"A Sergeant's promise?"

"A husbands, and a fathers."

"I don't know why, but I love you so much it's stupid."

Alfredo chuckled. "I still have trouble figuring out why you fell for me, I mean what am I? A soldier? Failed chef? You could have had anyone, what am I?"

"You're a good man." She said simply. "With a real heart and soul. Bring them back to me."

Garibaldi held one long final kiss before stepping back and letting her go. That one action took more nerve and control than going hand to hand with Dilgar forces on Tirrith.

"I swear I'm coming back. They couldn't stop me last time, and this time they won't even come close."

"I'm going to be here waiting." Sophia's heavily emotional voice managed. "Both of us."

"Now take care of your Mother Mikey, and do what she says."

"Yes Sarge." He mocked a salute.

"And eat your meals, growing boy needs good food and your mother is the best cook on Mars." He returned his son's salute. "That's an order."

"I'm going to mail you everyday." Sophia stated firmly.

"And I'll write you too." Garibaldi confirmed with just as much certainty. "I need to go now."

"Avoid those bullets, okay?"

"I will, and remember to keep living your life, I'll feel bette rknowing you're trying to be normal."

"Okay then, I'll try." His wife nodded. "I'm going to miss you."

"You have no idea how much I'll miss you two."

"I think I do." She smiled thinly through watery eyes. "Love you Freddy."

"Love you Sophia." He returned the smile. "And you Mikey."

"Yuck!" Was the child's reply, which brought a brief laugh to both parents.

"I'll see you soon." Sophia said finally. "I know I will."

"Take care my angel." Garibaldi said as he joined the Platoon.

"God keep you safe!" She called after him. "Each and everyone of you!"

He had to try and detach as he walked down the tunnel and the doors closed off behind them separating the soldiers from the families and putting them on the path they could not now deviate from. There was that same silence over the whole unit, an emptiness of loss and a steel hard determination to get this job done and get back fast.

"Red Platoon." Garibaldi hadn't even noticed Captain Franklin join them. "First shuttle, strap in tight, this will be a fast trip."

Franklin himself had a large family and must be feeling the exact same emotions as his troops were, but there was absolutely nothing readable beneath his face. Like a good officer he was prepared to lead by example, and that example did not include shedding tears or blaming anyone for this sundering, only focusing on the matter at hand. They couldn't change what had happened, but they could influence whatever came next.

The Hades class assault shuttles were like second homes tot he 99th by now, all except Dom at least had spent many uncomfortable hours strapped into the supposedly form fitting crash seats. Not only was it a poor choice of name but they were also hideously uncomfortable. One after another they branched off into a smaller tunnel leading to the shuttles rear door, the hermatic seals securely locked to preserve the atmosphere.

"You know your places, sit down and belt up." Garibaldi said without much enthusiasm. "We got a job to do, they don't pay us to watch TV and play pool. Knuckle down."

He went from end to end making sure his platoon were all safely fastened down before taking his own seat, the co-pilot taking the time to adjust Garibaldi and Lieutenant Brooks restraints.

"You guys done this before?" the airman asked.

"Airborne buddy." Brook replied. "Old stuff to us."

"Great, last bunch we took up were mechanised infantry, half of them lost their lunches." The co-pilot wrinkled his nose. "We hosed it down, but I can still smell it. I shoulda gone to Fury school."

He gave Garibaldi a slap on the shoulder after finishing the restraints.

"All good to go?"

"Ready as we'll ever be." Garibaldi said grudgingly.

"Where's our destination?" Brook asked.

"We're heading for the Normandy." The airman confirmed.

"Assault ship." Garibaldi recognized. "Odds are we'll be in the first wave."

"First wave with the Seventh on our backs?" Bugs laughed harshly. "Oh yeah, I'm gonna love this."

"Cut it out Private." Brook said. "We're not the ones who need to be worried, leave that for the Kitties."

"Hooyah!" Came a respondant call of bravado that wasn't entirely convincing.

With a pop the door sealed shut and the tunnel retracted allowing the shuttle to taxi to the short runway, every bump of the runway and every shudder of the engines feeling absurdly real to Garibaldi.

"Ladies and gentlemen this is your Captain speaking." The Pilot announced from the cockpit. "You may experience some turbulence as we go hypersonic, unfortunately al our sick bags were taken by the last troopers. We advise you not to vomit in zero gravity." He paused. "Thanks for flying the friendly skies, the stewardess will be along shortly with complimentary peanuts."

Without another word he dropped the throttle and sent the shuttle hurtling down the runway at an insane speed, it was already crossing mach three before it even took off in a thunder that shook even the thin Martian atmosphere. Inside the craft Garibaldi thanked heaven for his restraints and sucked up the g-forces. It would all be over soon, and he prayed he could say the same of the war.

Altair System

Earth/Markab border

December 27th, 2231

William Hague had seen Earth Force ships before, he'd been up close to one in his days as a cadet and had actually been inside the EAS Argo, Humanity's first jump capable ship at the Earth Alliance museum on and above the Sea of Tranquility. Strictly speaking he should be unflappable and unimpressed by anything the Force could offer to show him. He wasn't

"Oh boy." He half whispered as he craned his neck for a better look through the window of the blocky shuttle. Beside him the two pilots grinned.

"Not bad huh?" The co-pilot offered. "Biggest mobilisation of ships in Earth history, hell, ton for ton this fleet out masses every other warship ever created in human history."

"Wow." Hague expressed in awe. "They gotta have half the fleet here."

"Close, about a third." The Co-pilot said helpfully. "Specifically the Third and Fourth fleets under the overall command of Admiral Hamato."

As the shuttle moved closer and began to pass through the assembled vessels Hague found the sight even more breathtaking, massive grey slabs loomed towards him with blue glowing insects buzzing back and forth around the dark and quiet monoliths. It was hard to fathom these monsters were man made, forged from metals acquired by the Belt Alliance, welded by robots at Proxima or Io, and finally crewed and operated by a few hundred human beings deep in their metal hearts.

"You guys think this is all going to happen for real now?" Hague inquired, the same question he'd asked a dozen people today alone.

"Yeah." The Pilot nodded. "I bet."

"I'd put money on it." Agreed his co-pilot. "Here we are, last stop of the day."

The shuttle had lined up on one of the darkest and most immense of the grey ships, almost a void in the depth of space with just a few running lights illuminating its blank exterior. The closer he got the more detail Hague could pick out, from sensor posts and cooling vanes to the four massive Ion drives at the stern of the ship.

The objects which stood out the most however were quite clearly the enormous batteries of cannons lining every available space of the vessel. The guns were absolutely immense crammed into turrets that seemed to strain at containing such instruments of destruction. Its simple oblong structure was broken up by turret after turret, gun after gun to give a final total of forty laser cannons, the biggest Humanity had been able to construct without something melting or exploding.

The weren't the most powerful weapons in Earth's arsenal, the largest plasma cannons delivered a lot more punch per shot but were too unwieldy to fit on anything smaller than a battlestation. This however had not stopped the gun crazy designers fitting two of the elliptical monstrosities to the front of the Nova design under the hangar. They were however very limited in utility and unlikely to see much service, the power drain meant the Nova couldn't move or operate its other weapons while firing the two ridiculously sized plasma cannons.

The main weapons would always be the lasers, which had surprisingly good range for an Earth ship though were less accurate than those of other races. The solution was simple, cram more guns on and by law of averages something had to hit. The designers had taken that concept to the logical conclusion, and then went somewhere far, far beyond.

They had created the most powerful battlewagon in known space, something even the mightiest Centauri battleship would lose to in a straight up slugging match. It was an amazing achievement for such a young race and something they had kept fairly quiet. The Nova was more of a rumour than a quantifiable asset, at least for a few more days anyway.

The shuttle finally made it close enough to read the name plate, Nemesis. This was to be Lieutenant Hague's new home for the next few months, maybe longer if the war was indeed due to start soon.

The shuttle looped around past the massed guns to the front of the ship and its cyclopsian hanger bay lit red in the otherwise dark maw of the warship. The two pilots had spent the last day shifting crew back and forth as final replacements and transfers were assembled before the fleet moved out. Hague was the last, along with four other crewmen for the weaponry maintenance teams which unsurprisingly was a demanding job on a Dreadnought.

"Shuttle five two on final approach." The pilot hailed the ship.

"Roger that Five two, computer has control."

"Confirmed." He released the controls and let the Nemesis flight deck complete the landing sequence, drawing them into the gaping red bay.

"Kinda makes you feel like Jonah don't it?" The co-pilot grinned at Hague. "Getting swallowed whole by the Leviathan."

"Do we have an EAS Leviathan?" the pilot beside him asked. "That's a good name for a Carrier I'd guess."

"I think one of the troop ships got that name." Hague offered.

"Troop ship." The pilot mused. "Yeah, that fits too."

The shuttle passed the thick outer doors which slid shut behind them, before allowing a pair of equally well armoured inner doors to grant them access to the launch and recovery bay itself. Right now it was quiet but before a fight it would bristle with Starfuries.

The shuttle came down on a platform in the floor of the bay and was lowered down, a set of doors closing above it. Only now did the shuttle enter an actual pressurised area of the warship, the majority of the hangar space was vacuum and too troublesome to fill and empty with air every time something was launched.

The shuttle ran on magnetic runners until it came to a stop in an open loading bay and powered down, resting on its skids though for the crew it felt little different. Like all but the latest experimental ship the Dreadnought was zero gravity with only a couple of small spinning wheels in the exercise areas to simulate gravity.

"Here's your stop son." The Co-pilot nodded to Hague. "Good luck out there if the balloon goes up."

"Thanks." Hague smiled, the words actually taking some time to sink in. "Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome." The Pilot laughed. "Safe trip Lad,"

The rear hatch opened to let the new crew out where they were met by the duty engineer officer and quickly taken away. A second officer was stood slightly further away no doubt waiting his own young recruit to make himself known. Hague grabbed his bag with his essential belongings and made his way out, propelling himself to the railings erected nearby and grabbing hold. He pulled himself down to an approximate standing position and tried to look vaguely soldierly as his officer approached with the ease of a seasoned space traveller.

"Lieutenant William Hague reporting as ordered sir."

"Lieutenant Commander David Sinclair." The man answered in the sort of deep and rich tones that were better suited to Shakespearean Theatre than a warship of Earth Force. "Welcome to the Nemesis, Captain Tennant would have met you in person but he is busy with the departure schedule."

"I understand sir."

"Come on Lieutenant, lets get you out of this cold deck and find you some space."

Sinclair led Hague into the service corridor and sealed the door behind him, like all Earth Force ships the corridor was lined with metal poles and rails for the crew to haul themselves along by in the absence of gravity. It was an acquired art but a well trained warship crew could use the rails to get to action stations faster than crews on gravity positive stations.

"We're a little short of space on a Dreadnought." Sinclair said apologetically. "They were so busy adding guns and armour they forgot about us. Luckily our quarters are close to the hangar, not far now."

They passed a number of other blue and grey uniformed officers and technicians as they darted back and forth like fish swimming in open air, many not even needing to use the rails more than once or twice to get them moving.

"Looks busy sir." Hague observed.

"We're getting ready to go, in fact we'll probably be underway in a few minutes so we should go get sat down."

"Guess I arrived just in time!" Hague chuckled.

"Very much so." Sinclair confirmed. "I wouldn't want to go into action one pilot short."

"You think we'll see action then?"

"Almost certainly." Sinclair said plainly. "Pretty tough first assignment, straight into combat."

"I've done my operational training." Hague informed. "Had over a hundred hours in the newest Furies."

"And your test scores show a natural aptitude." Sinclair agreed. "Which is why I approved your assignment, but don't confuse natural ability with experience. Experience wins every time, and I've seen a lot of naturals get in over their head real fast."

Hague took the warning. "I'm not going to get carried away sir."

"Damn right you won't, it's hard enough getting replacements in peace time, I can't afford losses in battle." Sinclair nodded with a faint smile. "You'll be on my wing, stay close and watch what I do, I'll show you some tricks you can pull in a Nova Fury they don't teach you at the academy."

He reached a door and cranked it open revealing a row of alcoves lining the back of the room and a set of lockers at the far side. There were a handful of people scattered around the room talking and just passing time.

"Here we go." Sinclair announced. "Welcome to the Thirteenth Tactical Fighter Squadron, the Ghost Riders."

He waved gingerly at the room. "Bill Hague."

"Welcome aboard Bill." One of the pilots said above the other greetings.

"April, you find a badge for our new recruit?" Sinclair asked.

"Sure thing, hold on." One of the female pilots went through her bag. "Here you go."

She tossed it through the air, the thickly stitched fabric sailing majestically through the air in slow motion until Hague caught it.

"Your bunk is here." Sinclair pointed. "Stow your gear and get settled, I'll do the rest of the introductions once we make the jump."

Hague did as he was asked, securing his bag in the assigned locker and finding himself one of the small bunks buried in one of the alcoves. It was cramped and disturbingly coffin like with straps and belts to keep him immobile when he was sleeping in zero gravity. It was also orientated so down corresponded to the back of the ship and the direction of acceleration.

The ship wide speakers suddenly whistled into life.

"All hands, this is the Captain." Another richly accented voice announced calmly. "Burn stations in thirty seconds, prepare for two minutes at two G's and thirty minutes at One G acceleration. We're on our way."

Two G's wasn't much of an issue for a trained pilot like Hague who routinely pulled ten times that amount and survived thanks to his cutting edge pilots G suit, two G's without it would be uncomfortable but bearable.

He settled down and took a moment to look at his badge. The Thirteenth was an elite among Earth Force and Commander Sinclair a true master pilot with an astonishing sixty kills to his credit among Narn and Raider skirmishes. When the chance came to serve with them Hague had volunteered in a heartbeat. The fact they also flew the best new Nova Furies was an added bonus.

The badge depicted a hooded skull with scythe, a typical representation of the Grim Reaper with his crooked grin and hollow eyes. Around the top was the squadrons official title and at the bottom the name 'Ghost Riders.' Best of all was the unit motto written on a banner across the Reaper, which caused Hague to smile despite himself.

'Live and Let Die.'

EAS Lexington

Third Fleet.

"All stations locked down, ready for jump." Commander Jason Sterns rattled off as he read his display.

"Very good Commander." Admiral Anne Thornhill nodded. "Helm, lay in course for jump position and standby to engage the jump engines."

"Aye Admiral," the officer called back. "Jump systems charged and ready, all readings in the green."

This was a day Thornhill and the crew had been waiting for. Finally they were going into action against the Dilgar, the race that had so callously caused such death and destruction among the League, so much suffering and loss, an instance of which Thornhill herself knew.

The Lexington was flagship of the Ninth Cruiser Squadron, a deployment of seven Hyperion class cruisers that until a year ago had included the EAS Persephone. That ship had been destroyed trying to save League refugees from murder and there wasn't a single soul in the small fleet that would not have done the same had their ship been there instead.

They had been a very close squadron and Thornhill had lost a good friend in Captain DeVierre, it was a wound which was still very sore and cried out for some retribution. At long last it was about to occur.

"Final orders coming through." Sterns stated. "Admiral Hamato orders all ships to jump and make for Markab space."

Thornhill felt her chest swell a little against the restraints of her chair. She would soon be leading these fine men and women into battle, an engagement that would regain their honour and allow them to properly honour their fallen comrades by setting them a pyre made up of lots and lots of burning Dilgar ships.

"Helm, move us into open space and jump when ready. We have an appointment to keep."

With a glow of red fire the Lexington pulled away, moving with five hundred other warship including fifty Nova class dreadnoughts away from the safe prosperity of Altair and towards the wide open emptiness of the future. A further five hundred ships waited behind them, they needed another twelve hours before they could gather enough supplies to make the journey to the Markab home system itself. When they arrived and when the other EA fleets moving from Eridani also fell into position about the same time, then the galaxy would get a chance to see what the Dilgar fleet was really made of.

The pale grey cruiser glided silently into the void, its running lights proudly illuminating its name, registry and allegiance for all to see. Around it darker and grimmer ships also made their moves, they did not bear the bright paint of the old cruisers, the flag bearers of Earth Force, but wore the dark grey of pure warships. Their allegiance and duty would be revealed in the blaze of gunfire and nuclear warheads soon to be exchanged with the enemies of humanity.

War was now inevitable, and in some quarters welcomed. By Admiral Thornhill and the friends of the Persephone, by those on Earth who wished to see the Alliance grow in power and stature in the galaxy for their own gain, by millions of innocents who wished to see the Dilgar atrocities stopped, by Itala and her party of Ambassadors and finally by the billions living under the sword of the Dilgar war machine.

The might of the Earth Alliance was rolling, a juggernaut that could no longer be stopped by words or deeds, the one thing now that could force to a halt would be annihilation at the hands of the Warmasters of the Imperium, a possibility that had occurred to everyone in the fleet at some point.

The Lexington and her sisters entered hyperspace in a final blaze of glorious light and energy. The next time they saw normal space Earth would be at war and they would have to fight on her behalf. Without hesitation and with a single purpose the first Earth Force battle fleet in history left Humanity's borders and travelled to give battle.

Markab

Homeworld of the Markab Theocracy

December 31st, 2231

A world was united, every individual in its billions strong population was performing the same act at the same time. Uncounted voices formed the same words in the same moments, a mass supplication led by the Arch Theocrats who decided law and policy based on the will of the gods.

The Markab believed wholeheartedly in the power of prayer, that faith could move mountains and their fervour could prevent the sky itself from falling into flame and engulfing them. They prayed for salvation, for divine intervention, for some scrap of help in their battle against the demons that were howling through space bringing nightmares with them.

Grand Master Valna however did not share their hope. He was a religious man of course, as unwavering in his faith as any Markab, but he saw the gods differently. He believed that they did not aid the Markab by manifesting physically and smiting enemies with thunderbolts, rather they placed strength in Markab hearts, wisdom in Markab minds and strength in Markab arms. If there was to be help from heaven it would be manifested within his warriors and within himself.

Unfortunately Valna's warriors were rather few and far between at this point. The Markab forces had been picked apart over the last week with fruitless and uncoordinated battles wasting their strength in uneven battles with the Dilgar. The Markab who fought believed the gods would make them invulnerable and unstoppable, but Valna knew it didn't work like that.

Valna commanded the Order of the Blessed Sword, a relatively small but dedicated cadre of warriors who specialised in both space and ground warfare. His force therefore had a decent mix of cruisers and frigates and were well versed in their operation in addition to some of the most competent and utterly lethal boarding troops in the League. They trained with the singlemindedness of Holy Warriors for that is in essence what they were, fighting monks not dissimilar to the Military Orders of Earth history such as the Knights Templar and Hospitallier.

The Blessed Swords were among the respected of the various Markab military orders which was why Valna had become Grand Master, in essence he had authority over every Markab military unit, though in practice only the Order ships followed him with the regular navy taking its orders from the government.

By this time however only a quarter of the Markab Navy was still in existence, the rest had become no more than scores on Dilgar fleet registers. The Military Orders however were still at full strength and ready to do battle, but while well armed and trained they were tiny in number and even after its catastrophic losses the Navy still outnumbered them by a high margin. The only real turn for the better was Valna's assumption of command over the defence of his homeworld.

It was not a task he relished, Markab was well provided with defence platforms and ground based weapons but compared to the Brakiri or Hyach Defence grids it was rather lightweight and unlikely to seriously impede the Dilgar. His small fleet and poor offensive firepower stacked against Valna, and in all honesty he did not believe he could win.

Never the less he would fight, his life demanded that he make the challenge and engage the Dilgar in combat, and fight that combat with all the skill he could muster. That was the facet that set the Orders aside from the rest of the fleet, while they were just as zealous they could control their fanatic side and not go into an immediate battle frenzy like their naval counterparts. They went into action with a dour mood and a sombre prayer before fighting with their gods given skill in praise of the almighty ones. Either they earned victory in glory of the divine, or they died and took their place among their ancestors. Either option was agreeable to Valna and his followers.

He noticed his warship commander Deacon Towta approach his battle lecturn and kneel.

"Master, we have lost contact with the Flame Bearer outpost."

Valna knew the location of every asset in the system, the station was a monitoring post sunward of Markab itself.

"We must expect the attack to come from the sun, it may affect some of our more sensitive equipment so be aware of any abnormalities."

"Yes Master."

"They will be entering range in ten minutes assuming they advance at full speed." Valna predicted. "Our hour of judgement approaches, make your peace Deacon, for our labours are soon to begin.

Valna commanded from his Orders flagship, the Shaftab class heavy cruiser Paragon of Virtue. It was a well armed and particularly well armoured ship designed to absorb a lot of punishment. He had amassed a few dozen such ships though most of his force consisted of lesser Frigates and escorts. Things were so desperate he had even been forced to recruit armed freighters into the defence force to bulk up his numbers and screen more valuable ships.

While Valna kept his warriors at the peak of efficiency they had not fought anything more than a border skirmish or Raider hunting since their inception in the Great War of a thousand years ago. It was all theory for them, while for their enemies the art of war was a daily routine honed in a dozen major battles against widely varied enemies. The odds were certainly not on their side.

He stood behind his Lecturn, its inner surface glowing with text and images telling him how his ships were arranged. After a brief glance to see all was in order he activated his fleet wide communication system.

"Soldiers of the gods and defenders of Markab, hear me. Battle will soon be joined against the demons who have come from hell to test our worthiness to be chosen of the almighty ones. Our faith will protect our souls from their evil, but only our skill at arms will save us from their guns and missiles. Give your soul to the gods, but give your strength to me!

Wwe must show ourselves worthy of the great honour we have been given when our hearts were born Markab. We are holy warriors brothers and sisters, and here is our infidel enemy come to burn our blessed world to the bedrock! We fight to stop them, we are the chosen, one and all, and we must deliver our world to the gods grace. Arm your weapons, calm your soul and make your prayer for strength. Then have no fear or doubt and follow me to war!"

His bridge crew cheered their commander, a scene repeated fleet wide. Valna knew they would fight well, whether it would make more than a few minutes difference was not a question he could answer, and nor would the gods tell him.

EAS Hannibal

Earth Alliance 3rd Fleet

Hyperspace, near Markab.

To put things simply he was not ready. Each of the status reports told Admiral Akira Hamato the same thing, it would be another twelve hours before his support fleets moved into position to give Earth the numbers they needed to take on the Dilgar, and even then it was still going to be pretty damn close.

As he hung in hyperspace with the five hundred or so ships of his fleet he watched the large black and red tactical screen which dominated the entire forward bulkhead of the control room, a long rectangular box buried deep inside the dense armour of the Hannibal. The designers had taken advantage of the zero gravity nature of the ship to essentially double up the command stations. From Hamato's centrally placed chair he had his First officer to the left, the communications officer to his right, and then above him on the ceiling his weapons and sensor officers.

It was disorientating at first and took a little getting used to, but without worrying about gravity there was no reason to let all that space go to waste so the control room had been compressed making more space for ancillary systems and protection.

The Hannibal herself was a slightly modified version of the imposing Nova class Dreadnoughts Earth used as their main ship of the line. While its systems and combat power was identical it had been given a more wide ranging command and control system which allowed it to function better as a flagship. The only external difference was an extra array of sensor and communication booms at the front of the ship betraying its true role.

The Nova class had proven exceptionally difficult to refit and improve, the designers had been so efficient with the internal arrangement they had not left space for the ship to 'grow' into different roles. It was born a battlewagon and would retire as one, unlike the Hyperion which was built to be customisable from the start.

Many commanders chose to fly their flags from a cruiser as a result of that, preferring the versatility and far better communication fit to stay in touch with their support vessels even when the had access to a Dreadnought. Only a handful of Novas had undergone the ridiculously expensive command refit and now served as flagships for one of the Six Earth Force fleets, soon to be Eight Earth Force fleets.

Unfortunately for Hamato those other two fleets were still three months from completion and would not be available to take part in his battle plan, which had forced a dangerous modification of the original plan.

Hamato and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Alexei Denisov and formulated a grand three pronged offensive into Markab territory designed to free Markab and its two colonies simultaneously. Two EA fleets would jump to each target, engage and overwhelm Dilgar force sin the area and then secure the systems before awaiting further orders, either to return home or proceed with the war into occupied League space. Probably the latter.

The plan had therefore called for six human fleets to conduct the assault with the remaining two maintaining the integrity of Earths borders. The Dilgar were the greatest threat to Earth but there were still a number of races who would love to annex some human territory while the main battle groups were busy lightyears away. It was calculated two fleets minimum were needed to maintain integrity and deter attacks against Earth.

Then the Dilgar had attacked early which had surprised Earth planners. They had expected the Dilgar to defeat the Yolu and then the Vree before coming for the Markab who were largely below the notice of the Dilgar Warcouncil. When, or indeed if the Dilgar attacked it was estimated to occur after Earths military build up was complete meaning any battles would give humanity a numerical as well as hopefully a quality advantage.

That wasn't about to happen now, and in twelve hours Earth Force would attack the Dilgar with four fleets, not six. They would be hitting two rather than three locations, Markab and the Tiree colony that was nearest to the EA border. The Sixth fleet was already in position there with the Fifth on its way to bolster them while Hamato waited for the Fourth fleet to complete his own assault force. By leaving the last colony at Troth unengaged it gave the Dilgar an easy escape route should they feel the need to withdraw, something which annoyed Hamato deeply.

But the fortunes of war were not his to decide, merely to exploit and survive. He ran a hand over his short and rough grey hair as the ships clock counted down to midnight and the New Year. Hardly the place he expected to be celebrating that change.

"Sir, we have a signal from Earth on the Gold Channel." The Communication officer relayed.

The Gold Channel was the second highest level of encryption used by Earth Force, all but unbreakable it was used only for the highest priority messages. There was the additional even more secure Black Channel for Ultra Secret messages, but its existence was not discussed beyond the very highest levels of Earth Force and the EIA.

"Patch it through to my station." Hamato ordered in his trademark calm and even voice. A moment later it flashed onto his small side screen. It took effort to keep a straight face.

"Mr President."

"Good Evening Admiral." President Hauser said formally. "I am aware this is slightly irregular, however given the importance of this situation I will be keeping a channel open between your ship and my office here at EarthDome."

"Understood Mr President."

"I have General Denisov and Director Durban here with me, but the mission remains under your control, we're not here to countermand you. Just to observe."

"Of course Mr President." Hamato nodded expressionlessly. "We still have twelve hours though until we will be ready to engage."

"I am aware of that Admiral, however circumstance have changed." Hauser informed. "One of our EIA analysts has detected messages indicating the Dilgar are proceeding ahead of schedule, they are moving on Markab now."

Hamato grimaced inside at the news. "In their current state the Markab won't hold twelve hours."

"I know." Hauser confirmed. "I want your fleet ready jump in at a few minutes notice."

"Mr President, right now we would be outnumbered two to one by a Strike Fleet, if we go in early we risk losing the whole fleet and seriously jeopardising our success in the war. I strongly advise against it, despite the price to the Markab."

"General Denisov advised the same thing, however our intelligence suggests that in order to attack the Markab so early the Dilgar had to split their forces, there is less than a third of a Strike Fleet in Markab space."

Hamato quickly estimated the numbers. "Enough to beat the few remaining Markab ships, but not enough to realistically take on the Third Fleet, how accurate is the intelligence?"

"Very accurate." Hauser returned. "However it is recommended you deploy a scout forces to make sure the Dilgar are as weak as that before jumping in, if not we will wait for you reinforcements."

"Yes Mr President."

"I will give the attack order personally." Hauser reminded. "We still need to make the declaration of war official, as soon as I've said those words you will be free to attack. I will time my speech base don the current situation in Markab."

"Then I shall find you an accurate picture of Dilgar forces." Hamato nodded. "Give me a few minutes Mr President, we will see what we truly face."

Dilgar Dreadnought Deathwalker

Approaching Markab

Captain An'jash turned from her sensor screen with a triumphant look. "Barely a hundred ships, hardly worth our time."

"The defence grid will even those odds a little. "Jha'dur observed calmly. "But yes, our forces will be quite sufficient."

Jha'dur had taken a gamble. In order to end this campaign quickly and decisively she had concluded that speed was the vital element in this conflict. She had to take the Markab out of the picture quickly before Earth decided it wanted to help and had determined that she could make that happen in forty eight hours if she attacked in full force. For most fleets that would be impressive but for Jha'dur it wasn't good enough.

However she calculated that if she transferred some fuel from her other ships she could take a solid core to Markab directly without waiting five hours for Sha'durs supply ships to replenish her whole fleet after the battle at Tiree. She ordered most of her forces to retire to the staging point at Beta Seven and rearm in preparation for an assault on the Vree while a group of three hundred warships accompanied her to Markab where the Garrison was expected to be tiny. Sure enough it was, and despite their reduced numbers the Dilgar should easily coast to victory.

"Deploy Pentacans to intercept stragglers, then form up for standard assault." She ordered. "Fast as we can Captain."

Markab Cruiser Paragon of Virtue

"Our enemy is revealed." Deacon Towta announced in a booming voice. "The lines of battle are now clear."

"Number and bearing?" Valna asked more specifically.

"Two hundred and fifty Demon ships, heading straight for us."

"Search for a Medical ship." He ordered. "Athraskala class."

It took a few moments, but the search turned up positive.

"There it is Master, sheltering behind the enemy fleet!"

"Laden down with evil plagues to sow on our holy world." Valna snarled. "They have left their bombardment ships behind, that vessel is their only method of attacking our world with true devastation. Let it be known across the fleet, that ship is our priority. Nothing else matters. Destroy it."

"Our weapons are armed and fighters away."

"Then stand tall my brothers and sisters, do not flinch or faint from the task before us. Fight well my friends, then farewell."

The cruiser rang to action stations with the rest of the fleet following its leads. Incense was burned and a few final prayers offered as the warships moved out of the protective umbrella of the home defence grid.

It was a risk, but Valna had to destroy the Plague ship before it got close enough to the planet to discharge its vile cargo, even if it meant the death of his whole fleet in the process. It would at least save countless lives on Markab itself and buy time for some miracle to save his world. It was a dream of course, but a pleasant one to cling to in the face of death.

Dilgar Fleet

"Brave of them." Jha'dur noted. "They are going to engage us in open space."

"The Markab haven't really impressed my with their tactics." An'jash sighed in mild disappointment. "They expect the gods to win their wars for them. Rather lazy of them in my view."

The Warmaster laughed sharply. "Very lazy Captain, I like that. But not these ships, know your enemy Captain."

"They look like Markab vessels to me."

"Most are standard Naval units, easy kills, but a number are warrior monks. They will be a challenge, expect them to fight well. Make sure we have a copy of this battle for the archives, I predict it will be fascinating to watch over again."

The Markab vessels picked up speed and began to gather in an attack formation.

"They're concentrating just of centre." Jha'dur noted. "Captain, predicted Markab objective?"

If they were going for the centre of the fleet the obvious objective was the Command ship, but just off centre indicated they wanted to bypass the heavy escorts of the Deathwalker and hit behind the battle line.

"The Plague Reaper."

"Precisely Captain, just as predicted." Jha'dur smiled. "Very noble of them, but futile. Launch fighters, fire when ready."

The Dilgar fleet seemed to leak a puddle of smaller faster moving craft that advanced towards the Markab, behind them heavy guns swung down into place and moved with miniscule final corrections as they locked onto the first Markab units.

"This is a bit more like it." Ari'shans wingman announced as Knight Squadron fell into place.

"These fighters will accept our challenge." Ari'shan agreed. "The Warmaster tells us they are consummate warriors living and breathing the same ideals we aspire to. They will be very worthy enemies and a great test of our skill."

The Dilgar Dartfighters matched the headings and bearings of the incoming Markab fighters preparing to intercept. Unlike the combatants at Tiree these fighters seemed quite happy to engage the Dilgar dart fighters.

"Ignore the regular units." Ari'shan said. "Let the regular squadrons handle them, we are looking for fighters with red markings or blue markings."

"The Blessed Sword or the Benevolent Arrow." Car'nal recalled.

"Well remembered!" Ari'shan chuckled. "Good warriors, it will be an honour to mark their names in our book of victory. We have more engine power, greater agility and superior weapons. I expect one shot per kill in this situation. Increase to attack speed, pick an opponent and let them fire first."

The black and red Thoruns of night squadron fell away from the other Dilgar Squadrons and sought out the most dangerous Markab fighters as was their role. It was an arrangement that suited everyone, it allowed Jha'dur to make sure the best enemy squadron was tied up with the best she had to offer, and it gave Ari'shan and his comrades the hard fought combat with skilled adversaries they craved. With every win they grew better, and Jha'dur had to admit to some pride at seeing the Supreme Warmasters youngest son earning such personal glory.

"Warmaster," An'jash raised her voice. "We are receiving transmissions on wide band."

"Markab signals?"

"Yes Ma'am, general broadcasts."

"Let's hear them Captain."

The last time they listened in on Markab transmissions it had been a cacophony of noise and yelling, challenges, curses, threats and screams from the frenzied and forsaken. But this time the sounds were very different. The voices rose and fell in union, perfectly timed and complimenting each other with pitch and tone varying and complementing each other, sometimes with one voice raising majestically above the others.

"Singing?" An'jash grunted. "They're singing?"

"Magnificent." Jha'dur praised. "You are recording this Captain?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"A Markab battle hymn, I suspect no one has heard this in a thousand years. Truly remarkable."

An'jash had to admit there was a haunting grace to it.

"Each Order ship is a choir, and we are hearing a whole fleet singing together despite being on different ships." Jha'dur explained. "An excellent display of timing and co-ordination, if they fight as skilfully as they sing this will be a battle to remember."

"What are they singing about?"

"They are commending their souls to heaven, and telling their ancestors to prepare a place for them." Jha'dur listened intently, captivated by the enchanting sound. "They are going to their deaths and they know it, so they offer this hymn to the gods and give their lives for Markab. This is only ever sung before a hopeless battle and after today we will never hear its like again."

She closed her eyes and felt her heart beating in time with the voices. "Sometimes I find myself admiring aliens for sometimes they can create things of such beauty that we struggle to copy. This is one of them."

She listened for a long moment longer.

"Truly heavenly. Open fire, no mercy, no survivors. Then prepare to deploy the Plague in the air streams where it will spread across Markab and kill the maximum number of people."

The Markab regular fleet ships led the way and took the brunt of the initial attack, the foremost ships exploding in showers of screaming metal that served only to illuminate the following warships. They presse don with the same dogged determination they had shown at Tiree, taking hit after hit, loss after loss but not faltering or retreating. The Dilgar had to completely destroy a Markab ship to stop it trying to engage them requiring much more fire on target, especially as Markab ships were much tougher than average League vessels.

Ari'shan was in the process of finding that the Blessed Sword pilots he was engaging were flying even more well protected fighters than the regular navy, and they were hard enough to kill in one shot.

Ari dropped beneath one of the uprated Drofta's and narrowly avoided a rapid fire burst from its disturbingly rapid firing nose gun. He watched it flash by above his canopy then put his dart fighter into a vicious back flip and lining up on the back of the receding Drofta enabling him to target it's weakest spot, the engines. With a single well placed shot he shattered the Markab fighter and preserved his reputation, but it had taken some effort. Many of his squad mates had ended up expending two or three blasts to bring down their targets.

"Fresh targets coming from four low." Car'nal warned. "More Order fighters."

"All Knights move and engage." Ari ordered. "Use what we've learned, go for the engines and stay clear of their front arc. That cannon is deadly."

The Dilgar fighters weaved and pranced into position, rolling and gliding past each other like dancers at a high society ball. The set themselves up with such grace and beauty before shattering the illusion with volleys of searing energy fire and leaving shattered fighters and dead bodies in their wake.

A pair of Markab cruisers penetrated the outer line, the Frigates sacrificing themselves as living shields so the capital ships could escape the worst of the tumult. The Shaftabs concentrated their fire and tore apart a Dilgar Destroyer in their path, bouncing its remains out of the way as they pressed on for the Plague ship.

The vile ship itself was prepared for such a move and was escorted by a pair of Tratharti gunships, second only to the Dreadnoughts in terms of destructive potential. The Gunships blasted fire at the two Markab cruisers, flaying armour from their hulls in bright cascades of sparks and dazzling swirls of blue and red burning gas.

They raced on, trusting their armour to hold them together long enough so they could ram the Plague ship and achieve the mission, but it was not enough. One after the other they succumbed to the Dilgar defence and were lost to the universe.

Valna prayed briefly for their souls to find swift passage to the afterlife, then adjusted the focus in his attack. While the cruisers had been destroyed they had punched a small hole in the Dilgar line, something he now hoped to expand and exploit.

"Naval vessels, continue to engage the enemy." He ordered. "Order ships, focus your attacks here. Prize open their armour and drive our blades into their soft hearts!"

With typical vigour the Markab renewed their doomed attack, keeping the Dilgar fleet from redressing its weakened line by engaging it across its front while Valna personally lead the attack on the Plague ship. It was a slim chance, but one the Markab seized with both hands none the less.

The battle continued, and on the planet below men, women and children watched the twinkling stars of dying ships and prayed for a miracle.

Markab V,

Gas giant

45 million miles from the Markab Homeworld

All the calculations said the gravity well of the Gas Giant would mask their energy signatures, and even a spike as big as a jump point would be just background noise at this distance, mingled in with the stellar radiation and nonsense. Usually Lieutenant Maynard would not be overly concerned at this and his big worry would be plotting the wrong jump course and ending up too close to the Giant itself which would be distinctly unpleasant experience for his cruiser, and probably a short lived one.

But this time he was more worried about not jumping close enough and having the energy signature detected by the ships already in system, specifically the Dilgar fleet currently chewing up the last of the Markab navy.

There was the familiar rush to the senses as the ship transitioned, something he still had to get used to despite several dozen jumps. It was a delicious irony the navigational officer felt queasy when performing such a fundamental part of his job. Not for the first time he considered asking for a transfer to a starbase.

"We're back in normal space." He remembered to report. "Thirteen miles outside our expected position."

"Pretty good Jack." Captain Carter complimented. "Helm, move is into our designated area."

Maynard's console showed all systems operating as expected. "Jump engines cooling down, I'd estimate nineteen minutes to full recharge, but we could probably make a jump in twelve if we had to risk it."

"Very good Lieutenant, lets hope we're tucked away enough so we don't have to make a bolt for it."

It was remarkable how fast humanity had adapted to the requirements of interstellar travel given they had only been introduced to it less than eighty years ago. Earth was on its fifth generation of jump engine, it's fourth generation of military starships and had even created a prototype simulated gravity section for its deep space Explorers opening up the possibility of extended deep range patrols.

Compared to the early ships it was a clear progression with each successive design not just improving on its predecessor but utterly outclassing them. The first jump engines had been legendarily expensive and inaccurate, but by now a good helm officer could predict his jump exit to within ten miles, less with the latest Cruiser and Dreadnought systems.

Maynard was serving aboard the EAS Omega, an Oracle class cruiser attached to the Third Fleet. The design had been built as a warship, one of humanities first jump capable naval units. At the time it had been a fast, efficient and destructive vessel superior to any other weapon in Earths history. Today, five or six decades later, it was outgunned by escort ships. Compared to the new capital ships it could barely match the firepower of a single turret on a Nova Dreadnought. But instead of retiring the hulls Earth had refitted them to act as sensor platforms loaded with huge scanner arrays and transmitters to act as ELINT support for fleets or as advanced scouts. The EIA's latest ship, the Delphi, was of similar type though the spooks had lavished a lot more cash and secret gear on it. The regular Navy Oracles were less sophisticated but still quite capable of doing their jobs.

"Our escorts are formed up, holding station." Sensor officer Tsing reported in her exquisite voice, the sort of angelic vocalization better suited to song or at least fleet communications.

Jumping into a warzone was logically enough quite a risky undertaking, especially one so politically charged as this one. Hamato needed this information but it did no good if the cruiser was destroyed or taken by a Dilgar patrol. As a result he had sent two escorts with the Omega and kept a small force of larger ships waiting in hyperspace where they would avoid detection in case there was a more pressing need for firepower.

They had standing orders to run if challenged, but if that wasn't possible they had authorisation to fight their way to freedom.

Their in system escorts were a pair of small ships that would hopefully avoid detection, the Olympus class Corvette Archer and the Artemis class Rail gun Frigate Gato Of the two the Olympus had the best mix of weapons and speed while the Artemis with its rail guns was a potent ship killer able to menace even a Dreadnought.

While under overall command of Captain Carter the escort forces were led by Lieutenant Commander Jankowski on the Gato, a posting Carter had not been thrilled to hear about.

Everyone in the fleet knew Mike Jankowski was a political fudge, a man given responsibility that he was not suited for. He had joined Earth Force with average grades and a distrustful nature. He completely failed to form a decent working relationship with his immediate superiors and was relegated to menial tasks. Not one of his commanders saw potential in the contentious and reactionary man. It looked like he was due for a brief stint in the Navy before finding a role in civilian life.

Unfortunately this welcome turn of events stalled when Jankowski became engaged to the Daughter of Senator Harry Brogan, later Secretary of State Brogan. Jankowski suddenly found himself with a hugely important and influential sponsor who was happy to help out his son in law. Jankowski's ego couldn't abide sitting behind a desk filling in forms, he needed a command and would not let matters rest until he found one.

Brogan used his political influence to essentially blackmail Earth Force into giving Jankowski what he wanted, threatening funding for the Hecate class Battlecruisers the Navy was desperate for and making noises about cancelling the Army's Thor programme for a new Battle Tank design. The moves made Brogan a lot of enemies, but in the end Jankowski got his command, a small Frigate which he still ran today.

Fleet command had gone out of its way to keep him away from real fighting which is why he was currently assigned to escort the Omega, when the real action began near the Markab homeworld Hamato didn't want him anywhere near.

"Passive sensors online." Tsing confirmed. "We have a secure data link to the flagship, initiating data stream."

The computers whirred and ran through countless routines as they began picking up and analysing the wealth of data, then sent it through hyperspace to the Hannibal via an ultra secure tachyon transmission. What they saw Admiral Hamato also saw with barely a millisecond of delay giving command a real time and accurate image of the battle raging near Markab.

"That's not a full Dilgar fleet." Captain Carter noticed at once. "Intel was right, they must have abandoned the slower ships to follow up later."

"They're still giving the Markab ships a beating." Maynard noticed. "I still think they're going to win."

"We'll see what the Admiral does." Carter answered. "Keep main sensors on the battle, but secondary sensors are to keep a general scan of the surrounding area for patrols. Lets not be surprised."

The battle itself was barely visible, flashes of exploding ships that had died four minutes earlier. The tachyon scanners could see the battle real time, but radar and video scans were restrained by the speed of light and were in effect looking into the past. It was an element of physics that for Maynard seemed more fantasy than science, a window into the worlds that were. If he were to look for the Sol system he'd be seeing the sun as it was before he was even born all the way out here, a remarkable situation that still perplexed his mind.

Reality was indeed stranger than fiction in many ways. He checked their relative position against the gravity well of the planet they were nestling close to, then waited until the Admiral ordered them home.

Paragon of Virtue

Markab Fleet

Losses were mounting across his forces, with his fighter wings all but annihilated and with heavy damage to most vessels he estimated his fleet had mere minutes of combat effectiveness left. But Grand Master Valna was not done yet, and those few minutes would become legend. Whole empires could rise and fall based on just a few seconds of luck or fortune and Valna appreciated the Markab had just such a window open to them.

He had lost control of the regular Naval forces not long after the battle began, succumbing to their righteous fury they had thrown themselves at the Dilgar with limited effect. They had managed to take down a handful of Dilgar warships, but the ratio was firmly in Jha'dur's favour.

Valna had however expected this and planned accordingly, if he could not prevent the death charge of his naval counterparts he could at least use their demise to pin the Dilgar and give his Order ships some time to position without drawing enemy fire. He brought his vessels into range and followed the naval forces in, exploiting the damage they had done and forcing his way into the Dilgar formation at point blank range, to close to allow them to focus all their firepower on him.

The Paragon crossed the Dilgar perimeter with all its weapons flaring, hitting the enemy ships that were surrounding it on all sides. It's scatter guns deluged a nearby cruiser with energy, ripping away panels from its hull by the hundred and exposing half the ship to space, atmosphere and components spilling out like a haemorrhage.

A burning frigate spun away on their left flank, from Valna's point of view it was literally a ball of flame as it rolled over and over again with no hope of its crew regaining control or putting out the blaze. A Dilgar destroyer hung lifeless below, a constant blink of secondary explosions detonating behind its shattered hull as it very slowly drifted away. But for every ship the Dilgar lost the Markab were losing three or four, it was simply unsustainable and Valna had to achieve his objective fast.

"Gather our forces here!" he ordered, his old voice unshaking with strength and determinaton. "We need to deal with those escort ships around the Plague vessel!"

The two Tratharti gunships were deadly weapons and Jha'dur had obviously made sure they were well crewed, they had each claimed six times their weight in Markab ships and showed no signs of faltering. They could outgun and out fight any two Markab warships alone, working together with fighter cover it would take a major assault to break through and strike the Plague ship.

"Units are fighting their way to us, but losses are mounting!" The ship's Deacon reported grimly. "Dilgar ships are redeploying to surround us with superior firepower!"

"Then we are in a race against time." Valna recognized. "We must be in position before they are, whatever the cost we must mass for a strike!"

A Markab cruiser became the next victim, broken in two by one of the Tratharti class ships.

"That Plague vessel must die, or it will mean the death of our world!"

Markab V

EAS Omega

From their distant gallery the Earth force crew watched quietly as the Markab ships grew fewer and fewer. It was a difficult image to watch and more than one officer wanted to give their allies immediate help, but to do so now would be extremely risky with more than half the attack force still twelve hours away and the chance that Dilgar reinforcements were much closer.

"There goes another one." Maynard noted sadly. "Looks like they're trying to hit that one ship."

"And the Dilgar fleet is deployed to protect it, funnel any attackers into a killzone." Carter pointed out. "That ship is bait, and the Markab probably don't even realise it."

"We should warn them."

"We can't break radio silence." Carter warned. "We try and send a message towards the Markab and we blow our cover, and I doubt the Dilgar will just let us go."

Lieutenant Maynard sighed. "I just think we should do something."

"We are doing something, and Admiral Hamato is in the process of gathering enough ships so that when we do make a move we win. We just need to be patient and hope the Markab can last twelve hours."

"Their fleet won't last twelve minutes."

"No, but they have a defence grid and the Dilgar didn't bring Mass Drivers, meaning they have to take out each station with just warships."

"Going to be close." Maynard stated. "Very close sir."

"Maybe, but we've got a schedule to keep to."

They were interrupted by an unusually loud alarm from the sensor station. Carter snapped his head around.

"Lieutenant?"

"New contacts coming around this planet, they just crossed the horizon." Tsing said in a strained voice. "Getting an identity match." She turned noticeable pale. "Dilgar sir."

"How many?"

"Six cruisers, ten escorts." She read. "They're going to cross right over us."

"Can we go deeper?" Carter asked. "Further into the Gas giant upper atmosphere?"

"I really wouldn't recommend it." Maynard warned. "Any lower and our engines won't have enough thrust to break us out."

"Jump drive?"

"Six minutes."

Carter winced. "Time to intercept?"

"One minute." Tsing informed. "I'd guess they can already see us."

"Well then." Carter sighed heavily. "No point hiding here, and if we need to run we don't want to be starting in a gravity well. Move us away and begin jamming long range signals."

The Omega climbed out of the hazy atmosphere of Markab V slowly shedding the trails and wisps of red gas that clung to the hull, leaving the white and blue colour scheme slightly red, stained by chemicals in the air. The two escorts followed suit and began to accelerate, limited by the ancient engines of the scout cruiser they were protecting.

"Urgent message from the Gato sir." Tsing reported.

"Go ahead." Captain Carter nodded.

"Captain, this is Commander Jankowski." He braying voice sounded on speakers. "Our cover's blown, we have to get out of here!"

"That's the plan Commander, but we've still got five minutes for the jump drive to recharge. Hold formation and be ready to jump."

"The Dilgar are already in range, if we can't escape we should call in our support!"

"Not yet Commander, hold position and stand by for further orders."

He cut the channel. "Anything from Command?"

"No sir, we've lost the data link." Tsing said. "And our own jamming is preventing us from re-establishing contact."

It was a dilemma, if Carter stopped jamming he could ask for orders from the Admiral, but it also let the Dilgar patrol report them to their Warmaster. He was going to have to handle this himself.

"Sir, another message." Tsing said.

"Tell Jankowski to hold his position."

"Sir, it's the Dilgar."

That rather surprised Carter, he hadn't heard of them trying to talk before. "Alright, put it through."

There was a crackle as the signal filtered through the translator, Earth having cracked the Dilgar language quite a long time ago.

"Human ship, I am Combatmaster Ak'ral of the Dilgar Imperium, respond."

The message was curt, but at least he was talking and not shooting.

"Dilgar vessel, I am Captain Carter, Earth Force, we mean you no harm or insult."

"Then you will have no reason to keep jamming my long range communications." Ak'rala pointed out. "Please shut them down at once."

Carter smiled, he couldn't see the Dilgar officers face but could tell he was playing a game. He likely also wanted orders from his Warmaster, if intel was right the Dilgar had orders not to fire first on EA ships on pain of a very brutal death. If however he could get a direct order from his Warmaster it would free them up to blow his command out of the sky.

"I'm sorry Combatmaster, we're having a power fluctuation, no matter what we do we just can't turn it off." He replied in his most innocent voice. "But we'll be jumping soon, I'm sure it'll stop then."

"I see." Ak'ral said flatly. "Would you explain why you are trespassing in Dilgar space?"

"Well right now it's still Markab space, and the Markab are friends of ours." Carter stated. "We arrived before we heard you were here."

"So you just stayed around to record our military tactics for your government?"

"We were just waiting for our jump engines to charge, then we'll leave."

"I don't think I can allow that Captain." Ak'ral said menacingly. "You will stand down and prepare to be escorted to Markab."

"I don't think so." Carter answered. "And I'm betting you can't make me."

"I have better ships and more weaponry."

"Yet you haven't used it?" Carter replied. "I don't think you want to start shooting at an Earth Force ship, you might not like what happens next."

Commander Jankowski was listening to every word with gritted teeth growing more and more nervous, his senses so enflamed he felt like a bomb about to explode.

"Why the hell is he talking to the Dilgar?" he guffawed. "What the hell is he doing?"

"Sounds like he's trying to talk his way out sir." The Gato executive officer, Lieutenant Vandeau replied. "They haven't fired, or even locked on."

"They're just waiting for a better shot!" Jankowski spat.

"Our briefings say the Dilgar are under orders not to fire first."

"And you believe those morons at the EIA?" Jankowski huffed incredulously. "No way, they've killed everything they've come across."

"They haven't fired on an Earth Force ship in the last two encounters."

"Tell that to the Persephone!" the Commander scoffed.

"The Dilgar are still closing, jump recharge in two minutes."

"They can kill us all in ten seconds, look how many ships they have!" Jankowski slid back and forth in his chair. "Why am I the only one who sees this?"

"Dilgar ships are spreading out sir."

"It's a prelude to attack." Jankowski exclaimed. "It's staring us in the face! Raise Carter!"

"He's still on with the Dilgar sir."

"They're distracting him, keeping him occupied while they move in for the kill." It was so blatantly obvious, and yet no one else could see the blatant murderous intent of the Dilgar.

"If no one else will act to save us, then I'll have to do something."

Captain Carter knew he had this Dilgar, he could sense it. "No one wants a shooting match, I'm sure we both have other concerns." He was of course lying, with most of Earth Force about to jump into Markab space humanities intentions for the future were anything but sedate.

"You are still in a restricted area Captain, you must surrender."

"It isn't going to happen." Carter replied. "So you can either open fire and start a shooting war with Earth, which I bet Jha'dur will personally talk to you about, or you let us go."

"I have orders to detain all ships in this system."

"All League ships I bet, right?"

"Markab or civilian alike." Ak'ral returned.

"Well we're neither." The Earth Force officer stated confidently. "So by your own orders you can let us go, and not turn this into a major incident."

"The Warmaster is not known for forgiving officers who deliberately violate the spirit of her orders."

"And I bet she's less forgiving of commanders who lose ships in a situation which could be avoided."

Carter listened to the static for what could have been forever.

""Very well human, a sit happens my orders do cover this situation. Return home and make sure all your people know the Dilgar rule this space now."

"Understood Combatmaster, nice chatting with you."

He signalled for Tsing to cut the channel.

"Damn, that was like pulling teeth. Jump drive?"

"One minute." Maynard reported. "And that's going to be a risk."

"Lets not try our luck, get us out of here before he changes his mind."

Tsing suddenly sat up. "Sir, encoded transmission!"

"From the Dilgar? Why?"

"Sir, it's the Gato, Commander Jankowski."

Carter bit hard into his lip. "Oh that utter son of a…"

"He's coming about, railguns arming, he's locking on the closest Dilgar ship."

"Jankowski!" Carter jabbed the open comms switch, not caring if the Dilgar heard him. "Stand down right the hell now!"

"No answer." She said. "He's preparing to fire, Dilgar ships opening gunports."

"Arm interceptors, get ready to jump!" Carter snarled in total fury.

Maynard added to the rapidly detorirating situation. "New jump point opening, port side!"

"It's the support fleet, Jankowski called in the support fleet!" Tsing yelled

"Call them off!" Carter demanded. "Cancel the order, tell them to stand down!"

It was too late by far, the three ships of the support group were out of comms reach as they crossed back into normal space and couldn't hear Carters urgent message. They knew that the Omega group would only call them in as a last resort, if all else was lost, so the support group had orders to come in all guns blazing and utterly destroy anything they saw waiting at the end of the vortex. There was nothing anyone could do, and at 11:54 Earth standard time on December 31st 2231, Earth Force warships engaged the Dilgar in open combat.

Ak'ral spotted them with a sense of betrayal, feeling lied to and tricked by the humans who were now preparing to destroy his formation.

"All ships, all batteries, fire at will! Kill them all!"

His cruisers locked on and prepared to fire, but Earth Force got its volley in first. The two ships on the flank were engaged by Earth Force cruisers, close range plasma bolts slammed into the Dilgar vessels physically pushing them out of the way of the Omega group in a titanic sheet of flame and plasma. But more disturbing than the cruisers, far more disturbing, was the following ship which was little more than a steel stick with guns attached.

"Communications?" he asked as the warship, for it could be nothing else, lined up on his command.

"Still jammed, the Warmaster cannot be reached."

Ak'ral nodded, then swallowed his fear as the human vessel engaged. Unknown to him he became the first sentient to be killed in action by a Nova class Dreadnought, though it was not an accolade he could enjoy for very long afterwards.

The Earth warships had both surprise and superior firepower on their side despite being outnumbered. Fed data by Jankowski they knew where the Dilgar were and had pre-programmed their locations into the firing computers allowing them to open fire before they had even crossed fully out of the Vortex.

The heavy cruiser EAS Soyuz led the way firing the first official shots of the Dilgar war from humanities perspective and was rapidly supported by her sister ship the Helios. They each lined up a cruiser and hit them with as much fire as they could, rolling on their axis to concentrate their upper arcs on the enemy bringing all but two guns to bear on their opponents.

The Hyperions could each match a Dilgar Mishakur Dreadnought for raw close range firepower and they made their enemies feel it, the Plasma rounds erupting in spheres of blue heat that cored through the enemy ships like boiling water through ice. The physical impacts alone were enough to throw the Dilgar cruisers out of formation, spinning the ship closest to the Soyuz through a languorous hundred degree roll as it pumped round after round into its forward weapons cluster.

The two cruisers tore a hole in the Dilgar formation, a gap in the wall of ships wreathed in white fire and molten metal congealing and cooling in the cold vacuum. But for all the viciousness of the attack it was just a foreshadow of what was to come, nothing more than setting the stage for the real destruction.

Coming up close behind the cruisers was the EAS Leonidas, the ship that had sealed the fate of Combatmaster Ak'ral. Earth had never sent one of these ships into battle before, they were never in the right place at the right time to handle border skirmishes or Raiders, and they were too expensive to use as patrol elements with a tendency to go through fuel like a cop went through donuts, especially if they had to shoot at something.

But this was the moment these ships were born for, full scale fleet combat with a numerically superior enemy. The Nova was a true Dreadnought mounting nothing but massive ship killing guns with the sole intention of obliterating everything dumb enough to get in its way with overwhelming firepower. Ak'ral was currently in its way.

The Leonidas laid in an oblique course through the heart of the Dilgar formation, passing by at a shallow angle to maximise the number of guns it could focus on the targeted ships. Ominously the guns swung out, the long heavy barrels depressing for a point blank broadside centred on Ak'rals flagship and its immediate escorts. The Dilgar were still focused on the Omega group and while they were reacting quickly to this new threat it was nowhere near quick enough.

The Dreadnought passed with its starboard side to the Dilgar formation, its guns bristling from the hull like a black comb. The portside guns were swung inboard so they fired over the hull and between the starboard turrets allowing the ship to engage with all but three of its eighteen twin turrets. Ak'ral was staring down the barrels of thirty guns, more firepower than all of his cruisers combined. It was clearly not going to end well.

The sky turned crimson as the Dreadnought finally unleashed its wrath, the tracks of laser fire reaching out to meet the still frantically manoeuvring Dilgar warships and strike each vessel with at least four beams. The high powered lances of energy passed through the relatively weak hulls with little impediment tracing long glowing lines through the Dilgar ships. Anything that could explode apparently did as the red beams touched engines, reactors and magazines racking their victims with secondary explosions. Ak'ral's cruiser went up in a white blast of released energy as its jump engines were ripped in half by the Leonidas taking a flight of recently launched fighters with it.

The Dreadnought did not stop until its guns had to shut down before melting in their turrets, she had crossed the centre of the fleet and raked the entire Dilgar formation with a full broadside the like of which no one involved had seen before, a display of raw destruction that even the Dilgar were left aghast at.

The Leonidas had claimed three cruisers with a fourth crippled, and no less than six of the eight escorts. At the same time the Soyuz and Helios had each taken a cruiser down with their own not inconsiderable firepower with no human losses. The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds from jump in to smoking ruins. The surviving three Dilgar ships made the logical choice and turned to run.

"So much for subtle recon mission." Captain Carter resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. "You can bet the Dilgar saw that."

Paragon of Virtue

Markab fleet

Valna had no idea about the drama unfolding at the neighbouring planet and what consequences it would have, every sense he possessed was totally dedicated to the matter at hand. Finally he had pulled together enough ships to force through a point in the Dilgar line and take on the two Trathartis and thank the gods he had done it before Deathwalker brought her biggest ships to oppose them. It was not the numbers he wanted, but at the rate losses were mounting he wasn't going to get anymore. He had five cruisers and three frigates, even if he destroyed the Plague ship he wasn't going to have enough force to fight his way out again.

"All ahead flank." He ordered. "Fire on any target until we reach point blank range, then concentrate on the Dilgar battlecruisers. Put every single gun to them."

The overstrained engines laboured up to full power once more, their safety systems already bypassed, turned off and then finally destroyed by the engineering crew. The engine manifolds were glowing a shimmering red as they overheated bathing the whole engineering deck in deadly heat and radiation. The engineers were working in full protective suits but even then the heat was seeping through and they wouldn't last much longer.

The gun crews brought their charred weapons to bear on the enemy, charging the weakened capacitors as much as they dared. Two turrets had already exploded from overloads but it had to be done, the systems just weren't designed for such intense and lengthy combat and they were rapidly losing their ability to wage war.

Standing behind the Lecturn Valna knew he could trust his crew to do what was required, they had sworn their lives to fight in service of their people and knew no other existence. The last of his Order was gathered around him in their war scarred vessels, the battered residue of the Markab armed forces. Unfailing and unfaltering they made their way through the gates of hell.

"Let the gods see now our strength." Valna announced, his voice carried across the remnants of his fleet.

The Dilgar concentrated on the attack group, blasting apart a frigate into uncounted fragments, the whole left side crossing in front of the Paragon clearly visible through the bridge windows.

"I pray to them to give us nothing more than time, for that is all we need."

The last of the Drofta fighters raced ahead with a piercing warcry to engage enemy fighters in the path of the attack, the were hopelessly outnumbered but kept the nuke armed Thoruns out of play.

"Let us strike darkness one last time."

Ari'shans pilots strafed a neighbouring cruiser, making a high speed pass on its bridge. The Dilgar ace skimmed the hull and put a rapid collection of bolt rounds through its bridge windows, a poorly planned design feature.

"Let us crush one last heart of evil."

The cruiser fell out of control, uncoordinated its defences were quickly overpowered and Dilgar gunners shredded its hull, gouts of flame burning out into space as it slid helplessly out of formation casting a dying red light on Valna's own command room.

"Let us end these lives of pain."

The Paragon shuddered as one of its engines exploded, rocked by a near miss that finally pushed it beyond its tolerances. Immediately the ship began losing acceleration, the remaining three cruisers surging ahead. Valna did not even blink, he was still heading for the Dilgar and that was enough.

"Let us strike well and true this one last time."

The foremost Shafab cruiser took the brunt of the two Tratharti escorts initial salvo, literally bursting its forward third like a balloon leaving nothing ahead of the engines but a truncated black mass of struts and decks.

"Fight well me friends, then we die."

The two Dilgar warships lined up a cruiser each, in a fair fight the Dilgar would win easily but the Markab crews were far beyond the stage where they would consider engaging in a gunnery duel with a superior vessel. Their blood burned with righteous fire, matched in their minds by the sure and certain knowledge that they were dead already and it was now just a question of taking as many demons with them as they could grasp.

The Dilgar ships were rammed almost simultaneously by the leading Markab cruisers in a limb shattering collision. The pure force of the impact would have killed any living thing on either ship, so when one pair exploded it was largely just a funeral pyre. The other pair spun away locked in a death grip, the bronze and brown Markab cruiser with its teeth and claws sunk into its green Dilgar adversary. Two predators of the spaceway linked together in eternal combat.

It had left the Plague ship defenceless, and it was beginning to turn away and power up its jump drive. Valna however had no intention of letting it go and had made it his holiest dedication to send that ship and crew back to the hellpit that had spawned them.

"Set collision course Deacon." He intoned. "Ramming speed."

"So shall it be." His officer replied with steely determination.

They didn't have time to try and finish it with guns, while they certainly had the Dilgar vessel outmatched Deathwalker was fast closing and Valna couldn't guarantee he'd destroy the target before he himself was killed by Jha'dur. This way at least he would be certain, and his end would be of his own making. Cheating Jha'dur of the satisfaction of killing him gave Valna some small amusement.

The Dilgar ship began to quickly fill his vision beyond the armoured windows, there was nothing to stop him now, even fighters wouldn't catch up in time. Their mission was almost done, and with him the last of the venerable Order of the Blessed Sword would go to sit beside their ancestors in glory.

Before him Deacon Towta rose to his feet, eyes fixed on the Dilgar ship, and in such rich tones that contradicted his warriors life he began to sing a dirge, a requiem for the fallen. Within seconds the rest of the crew stood to lend their voices, the ship set now on its course it didn't need them to steer it any longer.

While their ship burned and rains of fire slashed down around them the Markab crew sang, harmonious and majestic with voices filled with sorrow and hope, it was a song of the dead but it was a song of triumph.

With no warning two fast streaks raced past the forward windows, propelled by long forks of red streaking ions. They passed so close their exhaust was sufficiently close to buffet the Paragon and force Valna to grab his lectern for stability. Watching as they turned from engine glares into ships he recognized them as Markab vessels, his last two escort frigates.

Having seen Valna's plan and being unwilling to watch their Grand Master go to his death while some Dilgar ships still lived the commanders of those frigates had decided to sacrifice themselves in his place. If blood was needed to erase this threat then they would give theirs and preserve their Master so he might lead the next stage of the battle.

They made no final comment of gesture, this act spoke louder than any statement or dedication of words. The two small frigates speared the larger Dilgar ship, the first frigate passing clean through the centre of the boxy Athraskala and emerging from the other side, a skeleton burning in the bright flames of heavens wrath. The other frigate collided with the engine assembly and turned the already doomed plague ship into nothing but dust, immolating most of the hull and its contents in a terrific blast of erupting energy.

When the light fading nothing was left of the three vessels.

Valna bowed his head, whispered a commendation for their souls, then began to look for a way home.

Dreadnought Deathwalker

Dilgar Flagship

"I have to admit to being impressed." Jha'dur nodded in appreciation. "I didn't expect them to do it. If they were Dilgar I'd be recommending them for the highest award I could think of and a fleet command."

"The Plague Reaper has been utterly destroyed." An'jash confirmed. "The Markab flagship is turning for home, we have an intercept course."

"Let them go." Jha'dur waved her hand.

"Warmaster?"

"It isn't going to make any difference, let him reach Markab and see the futility of his exercise." The Warmaster smiled widely. "A no win situation, damned if the do, damned if they don't. Send the signal, bring in the support forces."

An'jash nodded, and a few moments later the jump points were forming behind her force. A dozen vessels emerged, not frontline warships but bombardment vessels. The ugly lattices of Mass Drivers hung jutting from under their hulls and in their bellies they clutched hundreds of nuclear weapons and biological weapons of inconceivable horror. Between them they had a hundred times the destructive potential of the Plague Reaper, enough power to destroy the Markab race in an afternoon.

And there was nothing that could be done to stop them.

It was all one more of Jha'dur's tricks. The Plague Bearer was a sacrifice, a target the Markab could not possible allow to exist and something they would expend their strength attacking. Jha'dur had forced them into fighting on her terms, pulled them into a trap with the Plague ship as bait and savaged them, effectively destroying the last Markab defenders. The few remaining ships would be no resistance once she moved in and commenced the real attack with her fresh reserves.

Naturally the crew of the Plague Reaper did not know their role was as bait, she couldn't risk them running to soon or getting overconfident. They died unknowing the truth, and for Jha'dur that was simply an acceptable expenditure of resources. A handful of her ships for a fleet of Markab vessels. A good trade.

"Prepare bombardment protocols." She ordered. "Mass Drivers on planetary defence centres, then we'll finish those ships and deploy the biological agents. We have other things to be doing with our time."

Geneva

Earth.

"Mr President, we have a problem."

The live link to the Hannibal suddenly got very busy as information fed through, at the Communication terminal monitoring the data General Denisov was turning a shade of red so deep he was begin to look more alien than human. Stood behind him Director Durban looked over his shoulder and updated President Hauser.

"One of our ships has fired on the Dilgar."

The President could see why Denisov was now turning purple with pure fury. He kept his head and forced himself to reply in an even tone.

"On whose orders?"

"No one's sir." Durban read grimly. "They were challenged by a Dilgar ship, it seems like they had already talked their way out of it when for some reason one of the escorts tripped the mayday signal and caused a shooting match."

"Jankowski." Denisov said the name with such utter venom his saliva would have melted through the desk.

Hauser frowned. "I know that name."

"Secretary Brogan's Son in Law." Durban informed.

"I'm going to order that stupid bastard keel hauled." Denisov growled with absolutely no indication he was not serious. "He just blew our element of surprise!"

"Our ships did their job, they destroyed their opposition in short order." Durban said. "But it won't take the Dilgar long to find out what happened. We're talking minutes."

Hauser nodded. "So if we're going to act, we need to act now."

"That is my recommendation Mr President." Denisov said flatly.

"Mine too sir." Durban agreed.

Hauser planted his hands on his desk and raised himself up, he noticed it took a surprising effort to move him from his deep chair, making him feel suddenly extraordinarily old. He turned his back on the room and instead looked through his long clear windows.

Through the bullet proof glass he had a commanding view of Lake Geneva and the city far beyond resting in a circlet around its shores. The sky was perfectly clear with just a few wispy clouds turned grey-white by the brilliance of the moon hanging in the air above the mountains. The whole world was painted in shades of blue and white, lit by the glare of the spherical rock a quarter million miles away.

His eyes fell on the lake, seeing the light of the moon broken and shifting as the waves rippled, throwing the reflection in different directions and giving it a fluid eternal motion. The playful twinkling of light on the otherwise black water was mesmerizing, magical even, and Hauser considered that it might be the root of so many legends of mythical sea creatures. A simple interplay of light upon dark.

He could feel the cold of the glass, it must have been freezing outside, yet he noticed fireworks over Geneva as the city celebrated the dawning of the New Year, the parties would be in full force as half the world celebrated and the other half waited to celebrate.

It wasn't going to last, it never did, but President Hauser had hoped to give them another twelve hours before everything changed. He would make his announcement when the revelry had died away and normalcy was returning, then and only then when all the pieces were in place would he let Earth know what it's leaders had decided.

Jankowski had taken that away from him, that small mercy he hoped to deliver his people, those few more hours of peace and joy before the storm. It was a precious gift, something so taken for granted but for those who knew what was to come it was beyond price. Now it was gone.

Denisov was right, action needed to be taken. Despite only having half its strength in place Earth still had the advantage in the Markab system, both in numbers, combat strength and for the next minute or two at least surprise. War was going to happen, and unfortunately it would not be on Hauser's timetable.

Of course it certainly wasn't going to be on the Dilgar timetable either.

He turned from the window, resolute in his decision and reached for his intercom. "Marcy?" he raised his secretary. "Get the ISN team in here right now, I have an announcement."

"Yes Mr President."

He switched off the intercom and then picked up the thin scrambler phone linking him directly to the Third Fleet waiting in hyperspace.

With General Denisov and Director Durban watching on in complete silence and stoic support Hauser activated the set.

"Admiral Hamato."

"Receiving Mr President."

"Proceed with the attack. Engage all Dilgar elements and secure Markab space."

"Understood Mr President."

"You have my approval to conduct any action you deem appropriate." Hauser stated formally. "Good luck Admiral, and God go with you."

Paragon of Virtue

Markab

Grand Master Valna was an old man, he had studied the art of war all his life and did not imagine he could be tricked. He was unfortunately very wrong. The Dilgar had played him, shown him the thing he most feared, gave him a choice to attack it, then after exacting their toll revealed that in fact they were actually hiding their real strength, and the ship Valna had sacrificed his fleet war was nothing but an expendable asset.

He had done nothing to win the war, his actions had bought less than a few minutes for his people and now with a far deadly planetary strike fleet in system he had barely any ships left to face them, and most of them were crippled or heavily damaged in one way or another.

"Signal homeworld." Valna said, his voice finally showing signs of breaking. "We have failed, the Dilgar are just minutes away. Tell them we will do what we can and die as befits our failure. Ask them, ask them for forgiveness. Then pray our souls will not be damned for this mistake which doomed us all."

As the fleet prepared for its last stand surface based missile silos and guns smoked and growled into life, lifting from between mountains and deserts and trees to point starward. The operators grimly prepared their obsolete weapons and readied for the crushing barrage that would turn their world into hell within a heartbeat.

In a thousand cities people were herded into shelters, packing into subways and tunnels where they would have the illusion of safety, believing that the Dlgar could not hurt them underground. The wisest knew it was not true, and anyone not atomised by a falling rock, or incinerated in a nuclear firestorm would die slowly of radiation poisoning or some worse Plague or virus.

Local priests led their flocks in prayer, beseeching the gods for protection. Officials stood on street corners preaching messages of calm and assuring people the defences would hold and they would be safe. Soldiers roamed the streets, utterly useless in the face of the orbital barrage but reassuring to civilians as they headed for cover.

Across the whole world the populations eyes remained looking to the stars. The whole Markab race prayed together and huddled for security and safety in dark tunnels and cellars. They begged for it not to be the end the same as a dozen other worlds had. Like every other League power they beseeched the gods for a miracle, for an act of salvation to spare them and their families.

This time somebody was listening. The gods had stirred from their slumber and heard the clarion calls of their terrified creations.

The Markab wanted a miracle, and it happened.

Dreadnought Deathwalker

Dilgar Flagship

"There's an anomaly in our records Warmaster." Captain An'jash said. "We picked up a major energy surge during the battle but it was not reported."

"An energy surge?"

"I'd guess a battle close to Markab V, we had a heavy patrol out there hunting for stragglers."

"Any contact from the patrol?"

"No Warmaster."

"They must have found quite a Markab force, send two more patrols to the area." She paused. "Actually, make it three."

"Quite a deployment Ma'am."

"We don't need them here, and to destroy a large patrol so fast, must have been a sizeable force. Lets take no chances."

"Understood, assigning forces."

Jha'dur looked over her fleet disposition, with the bombardment ships in the centre preparing to fire.

"Let's see them try to stop this." She grinned. "They shot their bolt too early, now they'll understand about having a contingency plan."

An'jash suddenly turned to face the Warmaster. "Urgent message from Omelos Warmaster!"

"What does the Council want now?" she grunted in annoyance.

"It's the Supreme Warmaster." An'jash said in slight awe, even so far away Gar'shans influence was still prevalent among his officers.

"Patch it through immediately."

Jha'dur sat bolt upright, she had received barely a handful of direct face to face messages from the Supreme Warmaster in this war, and none since his health deteriorated.

Gar'shan's gaunt features blinked onto the screen, and it still took Jha'dur all her strength not to wince at the piteous sight.

"Supreme Warmaster."

"Jha'dur, I am sending you a direct video feed." Gar'shan wasted no time on formalities. "MY intelligence people brought it to my attention, but I sense it is something you need to see. Watch it right now and suspend all actions until it is done."

Gar'shan had been so intense and so clearly concerned about whatever it was Jha'dur couldn't help but feel some nerves. "Captain?"

"Signal coming through, transferring to your station."

The video activated ad Jha'dur at once recognised the human President. He seemed to be half way through a speech sitting at his desk with a night sky behind him.

"The Senate was moved by the League presentation, as we all were." Hauser said. "The suffering of the League has touched us all, and we must understand that Earth is not isolated. Though we are surrounded by unimaginable emptiness the Galaxy is a full place, and Earth can no longer stand apart from it."

"Shall I engage the translator?"

"Not necessary." Jha'dur answered. With growing apprehension. "I speak their language."

"We have warned the Dilgar time and again that there are lines we will not tolerate being crossed." The human President said. "The invasion of the Markab, our closest and most noble allies was the last line."

"I think the humans are going to do something." Jha'dur said in a voice that had been drained of its sureness.

"They're going to scold us again?" An'jash made a short lived grin. It ended when the sensor panel activated a warning.

"What is that Captain?" Jha'dur asked, half knowing already.

"Multiple jump points, hundred plus!" An'jash exclaimed. "It can't be, the Markab are beaten!"

"Get me a match on those ships!" Jha'dur demanded.

"We hoped the Dilgar would stop." The tiny almost distant human voice continued. "That they would heed our warnings and not bring death to our allies and ultimately threaten our own way of life, and our civilization itself."

"Getting an identity match!" An'jash called.

"We gave them a chance to live in peace." Hauser continued. "We wanted them to accept their responsibility and withdraw from Markab space and cease their genocidal rampage."

"They're Earth force." Jha'dur said without waiting. "I know Captain, Earth Force."

"I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has taken place." President Hauser concluded. "Consequently Earth is now at war with the Dilgar."

"Well," Jha'dur sat back with a sigh. "This suddenly got very interesting."

Her tactical screen filled with hundreds of heavily armed warships heading her way.

"Very interesting indeed."


	62. Chapter 62

61

61

Minbari space

2245

"Oh well finally." Alyt Neroon rolled his eyes and exhaled briefly. "I was sure my feet would become rooted to the spot waiting for you to get to the parts involving humans. Its not like I didn't ask you for this several weeks ago now."

"And they say the Minbari have no sense of humour." Jha'dur shot the warrior a look of total superiority. "When in fact they just meant you."

Neroon as usual failed to rise to the bait. "I have a sense of humour, you just aren't very funny."

"A sense of humour is the basis of so many successful relationships." The Dilgar said with a sweet smile that looked utterly out of place on a creature of her capabilities and depravities.

"I am sure it is, however we do not have a relationship." Neroon sneered at the word. "I ask, you answer. Eventually."

"But Neroon, surely you have to admit we have become closer these last couple of months." She grinned and leaned forward on her chair, staring at the warrior. "Can you not say you have come to see me as more than a source of information?"

"A source of so far pointless information?"

"You can't hide your soul Neroon, I know you have an affection for me."

The Warrior's already pale face went several shades lighter, almost bone white. "I would advise you to stop."

"It probably started as curiosity, then respect for my strategic and tactical achievements, two warriors from such different back grounds. Yet the spark is there Neroon, we both know it."

She moved in closer still.

"Just admit it." She grinned. "Am I not irresistible?"

Neroon leaned in himself, coming almost nose to nose with the Warmaster. "You do inspire rare feelings in me." He said. "Revulsion, impatience, even pity."

Jha'dur's blue eyes never flinched. "Oh what a shame, I suppose our love must remain unrequited."

"You can take it to your grave, which you may be visiting in a few minutes unless you get on with the story."

She sighed and sat back. "You really have sense of fun, a girl has to tease you know. My charms must have waned without constant practice."

"Earth Force." Neroon grunted pointedly.

"Earth Force." Jha'dur poured herself a glass of Centauri Brivari. "Now then, where was I?"

The door to Jha'dur's rather opulent cell slid open, drawing a look of brief but perfect fury from the Warmaster at the interruption. She would have to wait to continue her story and Jha'dur did not like to postpone her schedule for even a few minutes.

"I ordered no interruptions." Neroon growled, more irritated than angry.

"Apologies Alyt." One of his clan warriors stood in the doorway "Urgent message from the Shai Alyt, it has to be delivered at once."

Neroon leapt from his seat and moved with fast and powerful strides to the warrior, snatching the message from his hands. "Next time tell me at once when the Shai Alyt sends for me."

The warrior decided not to argue the situation with his superior and remained silent, waiting to be dismissed.

"Go, but not far." Neroon ordered in his commanders voice, much deeper and more assured than the often laconic and amused tone he used in normal conversation, the perspective of a man who sees everything else in the galaxy as a funny waste of time.

The junior warrior left leaving the Alyt and the Warmaster alone again.

"A message from Branmer, must be important."

Neroon had ceased being impressed by Jha'durs knowledge of the hierarchy of the Warrior Caste. No doubt Sinoval had been blabbing to try and impress this apparent great tactician again. He just saw it as dimly annoying. He opened up the parchment scroll, an ancient and inefficient method of communication but part of the tradition of his people. High Commanders often sent important messages by courier, and even know there was some wisdom in not sending vital news over the usual communication frequencies.

Branmer also happened to be a staunch traditionalist, not a born warrior but with a truly legendary Warrior's soul he had been embraced by most of the Caste, only the Wind swords really disliked him, calling him a fair weather soldier here only for an easy victory. In truth they disliked the way he restrained them and forced them to fight by the old laws of his people, to target warriors only and leave human civilians alone until later.

Neroon had also been initially very wary of Branmer and doubted his skill, and that doubt was apparently why he had been promoted and placed at the Shai Alyts side. Branmer didn't want a fawning aide but someone who would disagree with him if the situation called for it. In return Neroon was learning a great deal from his master, not just in the ways of war but also in how a true warrior conducts himself with honour and loyalty to Minbar above all others.

At least he did between the lengthy hours he sat listening to the over long prattling of this faded despot. He ignored her and read the scroll and the important news it carried.

The Dilgar rose slowly from her chair, brivari still in hand and strolled up to Neroons shoulder hoping to glimpse the message. Unfortunately his height and the ridiculous shoulder pads these primitive warriors insisted on wearing blocked her view. She shook her head slightly at the Minbari dress sense, wondering what the warriors imagined they were compensating for with such bulky clothing. She resolved on another approach.

"How is Branmer, still saying prayers before battle?"

Neroon did not answer, prompting her to glide quietly in front of him.

"Does he still prayer for the humans he sends into oblivion? How charmingly quaint. I came, I saw, I conquered, I felt really bad about it afterwards. This is what happens when priests lead armies."

Still the Minbari warrior did not answer, ever so subtly Jha'dur detected he was shaking, presumably in some sort of restrained fury. She smiled inwardly at the thought of what could have made Neroon so furious.

"Of course maybe the humans don't need pity." She shrugged. "Maybe they are better fighters than you give them credit for. Maybe instead of discounting them you should be a little more cautious." She glanced at the parchment. "And prevent future mistakes born of underestimating the enemy."

Finally he glanced up at her, his expression neutral but eyes filled with hate. "Underestimate?"

"Can't have you losing forces unnecessarily." She continued, hoping to draw news from Neroon. "That is why you are here isn't it? Know your enemy."

"I find I suddenly know enough." He screwed up the Parchment. "They are without honour."

"I see, that is what you have learned?" Jha'dur sighed. "You know 'bonehead' is an ancient human insult since before they even left their world? It means someone totally stupid Neroon, I had more hope for you."

He glared fire at her. "I have seen their true colours, they are assassins, murderers!"

"Your people destroy escape pods and crippled ships that can't shoot back." Jha'dur pointed out. "Your war aim is to destroy every last man woman and child of human birth. Cast ye not the first stone…"

"Does anything you say ever have a point?"

"What a piece of work is man!" Jha'dur announced in a grand theatrical voice. " How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god!"

Neroon simply glared as usual.

"Shakespeare Neroon, human literature. How can you truly understand humankind without that simple depth of knowledge? You don't know who you are fighting, you know the range of his guns and the strength of his armour, but nothing about the mind that directs them or the souls who fight in them."

"I know all I need to know."

"We both know that isn't true." She dismissed sharply. "Don't lie to me Neroon, these humans are a mystery to you and deep down you want to know, you need to know."

"I just need to know where they are so I can kill them." He snarled viciously. "This outrage…." He stopped short.

"What outrage?"

Neroon slowly shook his head. "No Jha'dur, I'm not going to be one of your little fonts of knowledge."

"The humans did something didn't they?" she grinned. "They embarrassed the great Warrior caste."

The Warrior shrugged. "I suppose you will never know."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Why not?" she raised a perturbed eyebrow.

"Because you want it, and I can deny it." Neroon answered simply. "You may think you have control here, that you can twist Sinoval and his fools to your will, but I am a Star Rider and I make my own destiny."

Surprisingly Jha'dur laughed. "You haven't made a choice for yourself your entire life! Gods, its so much fun living with Minbari, you never stop making me laugh!"

"Well you will have to laugh alone, I have business." Neroon turned and headed for the door.

"Wait." Jha'dur frowned. "You can't just leave."

"Of course I can, unlike you Warmaster." He used the term mockingly. "I am not a prisoner."

"You are Neroon, you just can't see your walls."

"So many opinions, so little facts. It is little wonder you lost the war."

"I lost because I underestimated humanity." She replied coldly. "A mistake you seem in danger of making."

"I severely doubt it."

"Arrogance is never a healthy quality in a Warrior Neroon, even the best make mistakes. If had known the true quality of humanity in those first weeks of war the Dilgar would still be alive today." She sat back down heavily. "Those first two weeks lost us the war. Strange how the entire face of the universe can alter in just a few minutes."

"I don't have time for this anymore Jha'dur, I will find out about humans myself."

"You will lose countless lives without my help, you can beat their ships but what about their army? What happens when the technology is not as important and it is will power and bravery that decide victor and vanquished?"

"Goodbye Jha'dur." Neroon opened the door. "You will have to amuse yourself now."

"Walk through that door and my help to you stops."

Neroon Smiled over his shoulder. "And for that I am truly grateful."

And then he walked away, sealing the last Dilgar alone in her prison, a dull clink sounding in the corridor as she threw her glass at the door behind him.

Five days later

Since Neroon's departure Jha'dur had returned to reading, investigating both the latest scientific breakthroughs and looking through poetry and literature from a dozen worlds, though she admitted to a fondness for human works above all others. They reminded her greatly of Dilgar writings and that familiarity was a rare feeling in these long lonely days of isolation.

They ended sharply when are door slid open without prompting, forcing her to look up from the book she was engrossed in and maintain a neutral expression to hide her surprise and curiosity. She half expected to see Neroon and was already relishing the humiliation she could heap on him before continuing her tale, a reminder of his place in relation to her and the great scheme of things. Instead a hooded white clad Minbari entered, followed by another, and another, and finally a fourth. Two of them held triangular frames lined with bells while the last two held incense urns that filled the room with a sweet smell. None of them spoke as they lined up on either side of the door.

"Priceless." She grinned.

The final entrant to the room did not where white, but instead grey. Hooded and obscured the grey robed figure walked in, the door closing behind, and stood staring at Jha'dur with the entourage flanking on either side.

"You make quite an entrance Delenn." The Warmaster complimented. "I applaud your sense of showmanship."

The grey figures pose altered slightly, an indication of annoyance Jha'dur silently revelled in.

"You wonder if your disguise has somehow failed you?" The Dilgar considered. "Your walk indicates female, based on both your height and the lack of confidence in your poise, you have to be the Council's little protégé. And the Religious caste entourage was just too obvious."

Still shrouded Delenn waved her hand and dismissed the entourage who left without question. Only when the door shut behind them did she speak.

"I can't decide if I should be flattered or annoyed you know me. So I think I'll go for furious."

"The Warrior caste likes to talk." Jha'dur said in way of answer. "I know rather a lot."

"Including the names and appearance of the Grey Council? No alien knows our faces, and precious few Minbari do either."

"Perhaps you should kill me to keep your secret." Jha'dur suggested. "Or maybe just sit down?"

Delenn hesitated for a moment, then decided to take the offer and perced awkwardly on the edge of the seat Neroon once occupied. She removed her hood, seeing little cause to hide her face from someone who already knew her.

"So wat does the Grey Council want with me?" the Warmaster asked. "I expected Morann or Kodronni."

"They are busy, as am I." Delenn replied. "You have extensive human language files, history, culture, a full library of humanity?"

"You could say that, you already have the Language files."

"And now I want the rest." Delenn maintained a precise and commanding tone, but it wasn't fooling Jha'dur.

"So you also want to learn about humanity, but not ships and tactics like Neroon, you want to know their hearts." She smiled. "I see why Dukhat liked you."

"Will you give me the files?"

"I'll do better than that, I'll give you examples of how humanity sees the galaxy. I'll tell you what they value, what they hate, what they love and what they will die for."

"My time is precious, I can't sit here and engage in useless chatter."

"Really?" Jha'dur raised her book. "Though we are not now that strength which in old days moved Earth and Heaven, that which we are, we are. One equal temper of heroic hearts made weak by time and fate, but strong yet in will. To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." She looked up. "Recognize those words?"

"Of course, they were spoken by Valen when he took command of our broken forces during the Great War."

"And here written almost word for word by a human poet six hundred years and hundreds of lightyears from anyone who knew Valen." Jha'dur closed the book. "Curious wouldn't you say?"

Delenn did not answer at once, if true it was something remarkable, almost unbelievable. How could Minbars saviour be quoted by an ancient human poet? It defied sense and presented another conundrum concerning humanity. Jha'dur of course was well aware of this and of Delenns almost child like wonder and curiosity, picking that passage was no accident, she had discovered it years ago and saved it for the right moment.

"I told Neroon that humans had their own warrior castes that made his own precious followers look like amateurs, Minbari Warriors do not have the dedication of ancient Sparta, or the Templars or even some of the modern human forces." Jha'dur spoke conversationally. "But in their creativity, their philosophy, the conviction of their beliefs and subtlety of their wisdom. They are not so different to you and the Religious Caste."

"I find that hard to believe." Delenn said unconvincingly. "They murdered Dukhat."

The Warmaster smiled sideways at her. "I don't think you believe that anymore Delenn. Not anymore, if ever."

The Satai shot the Dilgar a hard look, but made no denial. "Very well, I will hear what you have to say."

"But first, this has a price." Jha'dur said. "I need something from you."

"I promise nothing."

"It is a simple enough request." Stated Jha'dur simply. "Why was Neroon recalled?"

Delenn paused, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth arguing over. "The humans destroyed our flagship."

Jha'dur rolled her head back with an exclamation of triumph, clapping her hands hard together and laughing.

"I told him they would make the fleet bleed!" She chortled. "I knew it! They destroyed the Black Star! And I bet it was with intelligence, not just lining up and overwhelming it?"

"They sent a fake distress signal and lured it into a minefield." Delenn said. "And used the same trick to destroy several other Warcruisers that came to look for the Black Star when it failed to return."

If anything Jha'dur's laughter grew louder. "That is absolutely fantastic!"

"Thousands of Minbari are dead!"

"And if they hadn't wanted to shoot a defenceless ship they wouldn't be, would they?" Jha'dur countered. "I have learned the hard way that honourless actions often have harsh consequences. But gods that is a master stroke."

She poured herself a drink. "Here's to Earth Force, they never knew when to just give up."

She downed the Centauri alcohol, noting with amusement Delenn's disgust, then settled back on her long couch.

"You'll be surprised how tenacious humans are, they aren't that dissimilar to us. Tickle us do we not laugh? Prick us do we not bleed? Poison us do we not die? And wrong us, shall we not avenge?"

"Human writings?" Delenn wondered.

"Yes, very eloquent wouldn't you agree? I particularly like the poison part for sentimental reasons, you know I once had samples of every poison ever made?" She laughed. "A hobby. Anything can be poisoned, I even found a concoction that could kill a Vorlon."

"Vorlons cannot be poisoned, they are beings of light." Delenn stated in firm belief.

"Just energy and electricity." Jha'dur shrugged. "Some part of them is living. Inhibit the energy, the biological processes that give it form, and it will die. Anything that lives can be killed."

"You seem to know a lot about Vorlon physiology."

Jha'dur smiled knowingly. "You'd be surprised at the people I've talked to in my life, and the knowledge I have acquired from them. Now, would you like to hear about Humans?"

"Yes." Delenn said simply. In her mind she had already resolved to try and open a dialogue with Earth, try to end this war quickly before too many people died on either side. In this she had the help of the Rangers and most impressively the wisdom of the Vorlons. She hated being here, but she had to know if the Humans could be trusted, and Jha'dur was the only person with that answer.

"Well then, why don't I continue with my first real meeting with humanity?"

The last Warmaster took pleasure in her new audience and continued her story.

EAS Nemesis

Markab home system

00:06 hours, January 1st, 2232

William Hague kept an utterly blank face as he read his cards, using every facet at his control to not give away the extraordinary luck he had just benefited from.

"Raise fifty." He pushed a handful of chips forward on the table. Both the chips and the cards had foil inserts that allowed the slightly magnetic table top to hold them down and not have the cards float away in the zero gravity. That would prove to be quite a hindrance to the average game of poker.

"Well I'll see your fifty." Lieutenant April Green responded, shifting her own stocks forward. "And I'll raise you a hundred."

Hague resisted the urge to laugh, in fact he allowed a brief frown to cross his face so it looked like he was actually worried by the proposition the half Dutch woman opposite him had made. With a note of self congratulation he pushed forward his last hundred credits worth of chips.

"Alright, I'll call."

Hague held all four aces, it was going to be a flawless win and net him some serious petty cash.

It was then that Earth Force ruined his game. The almost completely silent ready room burst into sudden noise as the alert klaxon screamed into life, literally causing Hague to jump out of his seat until the belt around his waist arrested his movement and held him in place.

"Action stations, Action stations." The voice of the first officer announced on speakers. "This is not a drill, all stations go to condition one and close up for battle."

"Wait!" Hague called. "Just finish this first!"

But it was too late, April and the rest of the squadron were on the move and with a bitter curse Hague slammed his cards on the table, unattached himself from the chair and followed.

The pilots had been in their ready room at Alert Five, meaning they were expected to be airborne in five minutes when the alarms sounded. The Nemesis had two squadrons in its hangar, the Ghost Riders and the Banshees and it seemed Earth had deliberately assigned the two squadrons with the most ominous names to its warship with the most ominous name, together they made quite a supernatural group and had a reputation to match. The two squadrons had a respectable tally of Raider kills and almost all their pilots were aces, putting the young Lieutenant Hague in rather esteemed company.

Hague and his colleagues were already in their G-suits and just needed to pull on their gloves and helmet to seal their suits and be ready for the rigours of space combat.

He quickly moved along the corridors, going hand over hand along one of the wall mounted rails while other crew glided rapidly past in the other direction. He clumsily pulled himself around into the hangar area like a car taking a corner too fast and went to find his Starfury in the cathedral like space.

The fighter hangar was separate from the main bay and the shuttle recovery areas, located at the top of the assembly in two large rooms. The Furies themselves were resting on their individual forked racks, ground crew disengaging pipes and fuel lines and making the last preparations for launch. Hague's fighter was the fourth in line, still in plain grey straight from the factory. Most of the others had some type of wing art ranging from simple shapes and colours to some incredibly artistic renditions of people and creatures.

He picked up his helmet and gloves from the closets just inside the hangar, sealed them airtight to their fasteners and then dragged himself to the assigned fighter, floating up to the cockpit and settling with a bump in the seat.

"Morning Lieutenant." His mechanic greeted, reaching over to help strap the pilot into his seat. "And Happy New Year."

"It went midnight already?"

"Yeah, you miss it?"

"I was in a card game," Hague answered. "I was just about to win when this happens!"

"Well just take your frustration out on the Dilgar." The tech tugged hard on the straps before slapping Hague's helmet. "Okay, you're secure. Good luck."

"Thanks." Hague nodded as the technician pulled away and the canopy hinged closed in front of him. He powered up the computer, checked comms and then watched the technicians move out of the deck and shut them in.

With a jolt the fighter moved, beneath it the airlock doors opened and allowed the Fury to lower into a small compartment on its rack. As soon as it was down the upper doors closed and the air was sucked out of the small airlock into a storage tank for later re-pressurising. Red lights flashed, their spinning light matching Hagues accelerated heart rate.

With the air evacuated the lower doors opened and allowed the fighters to enter the main hangar bay itself, dangling on their racks in a twin line twelve fighters long.

"Ghost Riders this is Ghost Leader." Sinclair's sonorous voice filtered through the helmet. "Bring engines and reactors online, standby for combat launch."

Hague clenched his fist a few times to keep his fingers sensitive, then tapped his computer screen to activate the systems. Sinclair had been right, they were going to be going into battle right away, Hague hadn't even had a chance for a training patrol or simple scout mission to familiarise himself with his new squad mates.

"Ghost Four," Sinclair called to Hague. "You're my wing man this mission, remember what I said and stay close."

"Roger that Ghost Leader." Hague replied.

All his systems registered in the green, thrusters, reactor, weapons, sensors, communications and life support. He stretched his back a little in the upright seat designed to try and reduce the impact of G-forces and waited for launch.

He felt his craft shake a little, as he had no thrusters online he guessed it was the Dreadnought exiting hyperspace. This was confirmed when he noticed the hangar doors opening in front, the vast metal slabs silently grinding out of their way.

His fighter suddenly came to life, the

Nemesis flight computer preparing to launch the two squadrons in sequence as quickly as possible with a precision it didn't trust the humans alone to match. Without the centripedal force of a cobra bay common to spinning stations to throw fighters out into space the Ghosts had to take off in a more conventional manner. The magnetic rails on their landing racks lifted them up slightly as the computer brought the engines online and powered up.

As the front fighter Sinclair launched first, his engines burning blue as he was catapulted from the rack and headed for the outer doors. As soon as he was gone the empty rack shot up into the airlock it had come down from and the second fighter sped forward. Hague was number four in line and braced himself for the acceleration.

Ghost Three blasted off ahead of him, the rack retracting instantly and thankfully without problem. Hague didn't want to end his career flying into a squad mate's still deployed landing cradle. The four engines burned brightly, throwing him back in his seat and forcing blood to flow to the back of his body. A combat launch was much faster than a standard leisurely launch sequence and the initial jolt of acceleration was extremely disorientating, he had to use all his focus to stay alert.

The outer doors opened at the very last second, waiting so long it looked like Sinclair was going to hit them like a bug o a windscreen. Luckily the flight computer was as good as its programming and Ghost squadron jetted out into space, the Banshees close behind them.

The computer gave Hague control of his fighter once he was clear of the hangar and the acceleration stopped, letting him look down to check his sensor scans and look for any immediate threats. Luckily nothing was in the area, the nearest Dilgar ships were still well out of range.

"Ghost Squadron form up on the Nemesis." Sinclair ordered calmly. "Assume standard escort positions and stay awake."

Hague quickly searched his memory to recall what a standard escort formation looked like, then followed the other fighters as they spun an agile turn and doubled back to the warship moving around its flanks and engines. For all its ship killing ability the Dreadnought had a serious weakness for anything smaller than a warship, its guns couldn't track fast enough to hit fighters and while the ship did mount an interceptor grid it risked being quickly overloaded by the mass fighter tactics used by the Dilgar. As such Nova's were well escorted by a pair of Corvettes each to act in the point defence role, but their best anti fighter weapons were the two dozen Starfuries they carried. With the Dreadnoughts being such high value units they had first call on the latest model Furies and the best pilots, Earth couldn't afford to lose such large and expensive warships to something as cheap as fighter launched nukes.

As the fighters fell into position Hague was treated to a grandstand view of the fleet deploying for battle, from his cockpit he could see for miles in all directions and while his scanners gave a better overview it nowhere near matched the visual spectacle of the titanic ships lining up for war.

The Dreadnoughts were arranging into a stacked line, twenty ships across and two high with some fifty miles between each vessel with the associated corvettes and escorts staying close to their bigger comrades. Five hundred miles ahead of the Dreadnought line the Heavy cruisers deployed, with their more versatile weapons and better point defences they would be the first reponse to a Dilgar attack, drawing the enemy fire and keeping the Dilgar busy while the following Dreadnoughts did the real work of hammering the enemy fleet with vast firepower.

On the flanks Hamato had deployed his Rail gun ships and more Corvettes, fast enough to respond to threats and strong enough to delay any flanking attacks long enough to deploy reserves. They covered left, right, upper and lower edges of the fleet along with the ELINT ships and a handful of Carriers.

The rest of the Carriers and Hamato's Sagittarius class missile cruisers held behind the Dreadnoughts under cover of the rest of the fleet. They didn't have the direct firepower to engage enemy warships but could deploy swarms of fighters and hordes of missiles. The Sagittarius class ships held their positions for now, while the Carriers emptied their hangars and sent most of their craft forward to cover the cruisers.

One of the Hyperions cruised past the Nemesis, silently gliding past Hague's fighter and filling his field of vision. It was at least a mile away but huge enough to catch his full attention. He could see the scars on its hull from debris impacts, the wear and tear of a lengthy patrol through inner system space, even a few weapon strikes from Raiders which had done nothing to the armour. The worn name on the side identified the ship as the Brooklyn, which based on the non-mythological naming convention identified the ship as a first generation cruiser, probably fifteen to twenty years old and with a hell of a lot of mileage to its name.

The ship however was still in good order and moved gracefully through the Dreadnought ranks to take its place at the front of the human forces, not an easy impression to give on a ship as large and sluggish as a heavy cruiser.

It was all played out like a silent ballet, each ships engines glowing as it moved into position, then cutting out and returning to darkness as they fell into place and matched velocity with their sisters. Wave after wave of fighters passed by in staggered lines of 'V' formations, glittering in the light of the Markab sun as their windows and wings reflected the distant rays.

"Ghost 4." Sinclair's voice roused him from the spectacle. "Watch your position, you're drifting ahead."

"Sorry lead." He tapped the retro thrusters and cut his forward velocity slightly until he matched the crawl of the Nemesis and his squad mates. "Hell of a sight."

"It is, but don't be distracted." Sinclair cautioned. "Stay aware of your surroundings, we don't want you flying into something nasty on your first real mission."

"I won't sir." Hague affirmed.

"Just stay loose, trust your training, trust your squad mates and trust your fighter." Ghost leader advised. "And remember, don't stray. You don't want to get isolated in a dogfight."

He was going to have a hard time remembering all that while also trying not to get blown out of the sky by enemy craft.

"Ghost squadron this is Nemesis, Commander, we've spotted a hole in our fighter cover."

"Go ahead Nemesis, what sort of hole?"

"We're two squadrons short up front, the Leonidas airwing is still at least five minutes away, more like fifteen, they jumped early and are outside our battlezone."

"Roger that Nemesis, we'll plug the gap." Sinclair confirmed. "Alright Ghosts, break and follow me."

Sinclair's Fury roared into life, pulling up in a tight loop of blue exhaust and climbing to the assigned position.

"We've got two squadrons jobs to cover so stay mobile." He ordered. "It's a lot of space to patrol so be careful, we need to see threats early so they don't get past us."

Hague had a sinking feeling as the squadron seemed to leave the cover of the fleet flying up and away from the other units. He began to feel isolated, and he didn't need Sinclair to understand that isolation in battle was a bad thing. He steadied his breath, held his nerve and trusted in his commander.

Dreadnought Deathwalker

Dilgar Fleet

Markab

So this was it, all the speed, the tactical subtlety, the risks and the sacrifices she had made to end this campaign quickly and as cleanly as possible had led to nothing. Earth had declared war, they had followed up on their resolution to aid the Markab and sent a battlefleet to engage her. She wasn't in the least bit surprised, she had expected something like this, her guess was even odds humanity would intervene eventually. Sadly the Warcouncil had not agreed.

The Earth President finished his speech and Jha'dur turned the screen off. "Supreme Warmaster, you heard?"

"I did." Gar'shan confirmed from Omelos. ""This threatens everything we've worked for."

"You should have let me handle the council, after a few minutes we wouldn't have to worry about stupid self serving decisions like this one."

"I'd just have to worry about getting blood out of the carpet." He smiled thinly. "This is not the time Warmaster. Recriminations can wait, right now I need your assessment of the situation."

It was simple. "I can't hold Markab."

"Then retreat."

"My forces are at Bestine, I can have three full fleets in action by the end of the week."

"Then you better live long enough to lead them." Gar'shan said. "I leave the situation in your hands."

"As you wish Sir." Jha'dur nodded. She was about to switch off the link when a though hit her like a thunderbolt, as shocking and painful as lightning. "Kem'shan!"

"I know." The Supreme Warmaster said. "He will be on Tiree."

"If Earth hits there too, gods I only have a dozen support ships in the area!"

"Then you best withdraw them too."

"But sir, he will be trapped!"

"I know Warmaster, I know." Gar'shan bowed his head. "But this offensive by Earth overrides everything, everything Jha'dur. Gather every last ship, all your strength and counter attack. You have studied these people, you know them as well as any of us. Mass a fleet and destroy them all."

"Yes sir." She said heartlessly, her mouth dry at the awful predicament. "We'll be back for him."

"He can hold on long enough, he is an excellent soldier and commands an elite division." The military leader of the Imperium stated firmly. "Focus on your duty, the whole war is turning today, make sure it turns our way."

The message ended leaving the female Warmaster feeling every inch alone and cut off. That feeling of uncertainty she had been enduring since the start of the campaign, the lack of control and inability to accurately judge the situation, it had all proven entirely justified. She was outgunned, outnumbered and simply surprised.

"Warmaster, transmission." An'jash said with the same uncertainty. "From the humans."

Jha'dur blinked rapidly a few times before regaining her composure. She couldn't recall anyone actually wanting to talk to her while deploying for battle.

"Put them through."

An image came to life on her screen, that of a human male from the region she knew to be Asia. He seemed failry old but in good condition with short grey hair and a very sombre and even expression. He maintained an utterly straight face when he spoke giving her nothing to work with.

"Dilgar fleet this is Admiral Hamato of the Earth Alliance. You are ordered to surrender your ships at once and prepare to be boarded."

She couldn't resist a smile at that. "And if I don't?"

"This is your only warning Warmaster, stand down or we will use lethal force."

He knew who she was, which meant he likely also knew her reputation. He wasn't going to let them simply jump away.

"Then you have my apologies Admiral, but I'll see you in hell first."

She cut the feed and fixed An'jash with her blue eyes, working intensely on a plan.

"How long until we can jump?"

"Our warships can go now, our bombardment ships need twenty minutes."

She cursed the inefficiency of Dilgar jump drives, one of the more irritating handicaps her forces had that couldn't be solved by adding more guns or nukes to the design.

"Then we need a rear guard to tie up the humans." She surmised. "Pentacans four to eleven deploy and standby for battle, launch all fighters and give them orders to harass the humans."

"Yes Warmaster."

"All vessels will fall back if heavily engaged, and I mean that order strictly." She emphasised. "No glory hunters today, we must preserve our strength. Delay them only."

The orders went through and with a stirring of pride she watched the fleet array for battle. There was no sight in the galaxy that gave her more joy or privilege than these perfect displays of Dilgar military prowess. They fearlessly followed her orders, outgunned and surprised they professionally made for battle and adapted to circumstance. She hoped it would be enough to allow them to escape.

"For what we are about to receive…" she muttered a human phrase. "All ships, engage at will, watch yourselves and do not get isolated!"

EAS Lexington

9th Cruiser Squadron

3rd EA Fleet

For Commander Sterns the orders couldn't come through fast enough. The fleet was deployed with the Heavy Cruiser squadrons given the honour of leading Humanity's first pure battlefleet into action against the most hated enemy in the galaxy. Earth had engaged enemies before, but never had it deployed even a tenth of this force to one battle.

It was a historic moment, something to tell his kids if he actually made it home in one piece. Earth had kept a low profile for a long time, hiding on the edge of the League minding its own business, its motivations and strength matters purely for humans to know and comment upon.

That anonymity had now vanished in the light of two hundred jump points. There was no hiding now, they had stepped into the arena, centre stage with all the galaxy suddenly paying attention to this new race and what it was about to do. However today went it would be talked about for decades, maybe even longer.

So now they were here, facing a Dilgar fleet in open battle. The two forces stood in silence lined up over thousands of miles waiting for the commanders to make their choice. The grim warships, green and red facing grey and blue over the skeletons of the Markab Navy and beneath the stunned eyes of the homeworld and its few remaining defenders.

The righteousness of the cause could not be faulted, if any soldiers in the universe deserved death it had to be the Dilgar. There was not the ambiguity that had so clouded many wars in Earth's past, this was a simple and clear cut, The Markab were about to be wiped from existence, Earth had decided to stop that happening.

They had thrown down the challenge, girded on sword and armour, now they had to prove they could deliver what they had sworn.

"Orders coming through." Sterns noted, his console at the front right of the Command deck running through the appropriate authentication process. Even though the Flagship was only a few thousand miles away communication security had to be observed. "Subchannel ID is confirmed."

Vice Admiral Thornhill took the text orders at her console, reading them from the small screen suspended above her head. Her long grey flecked hair held tight in a plaid wound up above her neck to prevent the zero gravity spreading it awkwardly across her face and station.

She looked over at Sterns, and in that moment without even a word the Commander knew the moment had arrived. Thornhill's expression was one of confidence and determination with just a hint of passion behind her eyes. That passion burned for retribution, fuelled by the memory of the Persephone and countless other lives lost in the fall of the League. It ended today.

"Admiral to all ships of the Ninth," She announced squadron wide. "Engage engines, all ahead two thirds, keep pace with the Dreadnoughts."

The helm officer set to work at once, regulating the speed so the cruisers held formation with the notably slower Dreadnoughts following them up.

"Spin up all batteries, bring interceptors online and set for point defence. We'll be taking a lot of fire on the approach, I need the interceptor crews to earn their pay."

"Yes Ma'am." Sterns confirmed, setting the orders into the warship computer.

"All main guns standby for salvo fire." She continued. "Set target parameters for hostile capital ships, we'll be engaging up close. Fighters will cover our flanks and intercept enemy craft, so focus on the warships."

The crew of the Lexington expertly and efficiently readied their vessel for battle, the guns and armour forged decades ago for this very moment. Every rivet and weld, every beam, deck plate and pipe set in place for this one purpose and this singular destiny. She was a ship of the line, Heavy Cruiser of Earth Force and above all else a weapon for humanity. Earth needed her now, and not one soul hid from duty or quailed in that responsibility.

"Remember the Persephone." Thornhill finished. "Interceptors fire at will, main guns await my command. For our absent friends, let us not fail them."

In perfect silent unison the Earth fleet moved forward, a leviathan of silver and grey propelled by the light of thousands of engines shining like beacons of blue and red. Starfury fighters by the thousand streamed ahead of the great warships and rolled into position, climbing high or diving low to take the Dilgar on face to face. This was no simple League fleet for the Dilgar to toy with and discard. This was not target practice with inadeaquate leaders and obsolete weapons. This was not some road bump on the path of Dilgar Greatness. This was nemesis, the very equal and opposite of the Dilgar Imperium. As war torn and bloodied as their alien foes but despite the horror and atrocities humanity had held on tightly to that shred of conscience in war that separates soldiers from murderers.

The swarms of Thoruns blazed forth in close formation, their Warmaster was watching, the whole fleet was preparing to jump and it was their sacred and heroic duty to hold back the human advance and give her the time she had demanded. Like the fast cavalry of old their swept forward into battle, a steel and blood tide with engines singing and pulses racing.

Separate from them Ari'shan took Knight squadron up and away watching the tide of metal with fascination. As always his job would be to watch for the most threatening human squadron and then descend upon it using his ace pilots to rapidly annihilated the elite human flyers.

"Fleet, this is Knight Squadron, awaiting further instructions."

"Ari'shan, don't get carried away." Jha'dur's voice warned. "We are leaving in sixteen minutes, we're not waiting for anyone."

"With respect Warmaster, we have been challenged."

"A challenge I will answer in person next week with the combined Strike Fleets." She replied. "Bravery is a prime quality Squadron leader, but so is prudence. Pick your battles, don't let the enemy do it for you."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Indulge yourself Ari, but don't stray. There will be killing enough for us all next week, more death than you could hope to see. For now watch, study, learn and for the gods sake don't get within interceptor range."

He acknowledged reluctantly, it seemed glory would have to wait.

The majority of the Earth fighter compliment remained Tiger Furies, fifteen years old but still the equal of anything in the League and an almost perfect match for the Thorun with equal agility and armour, lacking only the engine power of the Dilgar craft. But ahead, on point at the head of all of Humanity's warfighting strength were the first squadrons of Nova Furies, almost every one of their type in existence assembled for this battle. With clinical coldness the human pilots locked their guns, pulse cannons swivelling slightly as the computer aided targeting lined up their designated target.

In stark contrast the Dilgar pilots charged headlong into the guns of Earth Force, their veins pumping with the sight and sound of war, their hearts filled with the lust of battle and sending it body wide with every fierce beat and contraction. They too lined up and readied for battle, both sides closing at full throttle with the gap between them shrinking at a startling rate. Both sides were waiting for point blank range, the positions where they could not and would not miss.

The Nova Furies pulled ahead, getting distance from the following Tiger fighters and breaking the Human forces into two groups. The Novas were by far the superior dogfighters and like nothing the Dilgar had fought before. They were ugly with no graceful lines or artistic elements, their engines were mounted at the end of thick X shaped wings and their truncated noses marked by a standup cockpit. They were not designed to look good, to fly the flag and elicit gasps from admiring children. They were designed to outmanoeuvre, out gun and out last any other fighter in the galaxy. Anything aesthetic was entirely coincidental and indeed the human pilots took an absurd pride in just how ugly their fighter was, much as warship crews enjoyed the simple looks of their 'flying bricks'

The range indicators counted down from thousands of kilometres, to hundreds, to tens and still both sides held their fire. For the Dilgar it was a game of nerves, a test to see who broke first. For the humans it was priming the trap.

The human pilots cut their engines, with no forward thrust and no acceleration working against them they could take their fighters to the very limit of the agility designed into it. The Dilgar saw them cut engines, the smart ones knew why, none of them reacted in time to be able to do a damn thing about it. For those last few hundred metres the Starfuries glided, arcing past the light reflected from the planet Markab in a glittering ripple of engineered destruction before engaging their manoeuvring thrusters and breaking fast and hard to cut through the rigid Dilgar fighter deployment.

It was an instant action, in perfect coordination the human fighters broke their formation, some darting higher, others lower or from side to side. As they dodged they pivoted often on three axis at once, a tight and rapid turn no other fighter in the galaxy could match to keep their guns locked and pointed at the Dilgar fighters which now raced through the loose Earth Force fighters finding nothing in front of their guns but open space. The human craft had no such problem.

The initial volleys of pulse fire decimated the leading Dilgar squadrons, flying straight into a curtain of controlled plasma. Thoruns burned out of the sky, high speed fire balls lighting the way for the next squadrons to also smash into a solid wall of Earth Force firepower.

Further back the Dilgar fighters cut engines and came about, decelerating rapidly and pivoting on their thrusters to change course. Some fighters, the slow or needlessly arrogant still proceeded forward, turning themselves to aim for the Starfuries, but from their prepared positions the humans dealt quickly with those too before turning to engage the rest of the Thorun wings.

The first kills of the war were easy, but now the two sides had matched velocities and closed for a dogfight, the Novas twisting and turning, grouping into fours and daring the Dilgar fighters to engage them. For their part the warlike aliens were only too happy to oblige.

Again the fighters found themselves nose to nose but this time the dance was in slow motion, a pirouette spiralling across the expanse as the duels degenerated into a tight melee where whoever could turn fastest would win. That advantage rested with Earth Force.

The Starfuries flicked around the Thoruns, firing from all angles as they twisted through the Dilgar formations in lines of grey metal and blue light. Fire filled the air as Dilgar craft shattered and burned, turning only half as fast as the Starfuries.

The Earth craft were dominating the field, but it was not all simply a case of shooting and watching Dilgar explode. Several fighters were lost in quick succession as Thoruns swarmed a human squadron, accepting three losses for every fury just to get their kills. The first humans died in those seconds, overwhelmed by the fanatical elements of the enemy fighter force. Their colleagues swiftly avenged them, weaving between the hails of bolter fire to unleash blue plasma on their foes, continuing the desperate duel.

What had escaped the attention of most of the Dilgar pilots were the Tiger Furies still closing into range behind the Novas. As the more modern furies battled the Thoruns the older craft closed in on the distracted Dilgar airwings and made ready their own attack. Unlike their younger cousins the Tigers did not rely on superior agility alone for their survival but also on a load out of eight anti fighter missiles.

Fast moving, shockingly agile and fully automated the Peregrine light missile was a deadly tool against most enemies, against a distracted and heavily engaged enemy it was hugely unfair, but that was of course no reason not to use it.

The Tigers ripple fired two missiles each, keeping the remainder for later if required. The slender powered darts looped and buzzed around the twirling fighters, ignoring the Earth craft and any Dilgar whose destruction could damage a nearby Fury. They passed through the worst fighting to the incoming and unengaged Dilgar Thoruns, lining them up and exploding in showers of debris and submunitions in their paths.

To the unfortunate Thorun pilots it looked like the missiles came from nowhere, emerging from the thick ECM of the dogfight all but undetected and lethal. As direct impacts were rare the missiles were designed to explode a dozen feet away from their targets and rely on a shower of metal and small explosive charges to shred their opponent. In space it usually took only a slight hit to kill an enemy fighter by causing the death of the pilot, complete destruction of the fighter itself was just a bonus.

The surviving Dart fighters joined the melee, and on the other side the Tigers piled in using snapshot missile launches and their own highly effective pulse cannons to even the odds and force the battle slowly but surely in Earth's direction.

"Gods their getting ripped to pieces."

"I can see that." Ari'shan replied.

Car'nal was clearly getting frustrated sitting on the edge of battle. "Respectfully sir, we should do something."

Ari was in full agreement, the problem was what to do. The melee between fleets was a tangled chaos of burning fighters and flying missiles, in there it was more luck and agility that would win through, the skills of Knight squadron would count for little.

"We join the fight sir!" Knight eight agreed.

"No, look." Ari'shan pointed out. "The Human warships are getting closer, note the Corvettes moving forward."

"I see them sir."

"You know of interceptors?" Ari said. "Those corvettes will destroy whatever the fighters miss, its going to be a total slaughter. None of our people will come out of there alive."

"Gods." Car'nal spat. "This is a disaster."

Ari'shan felt a smile coming on. "But one we can salvage a little honour from. Single squadron, fourteen mark six."

The Thoruns in unison moved t a new heading, pointing their noses at one lone Starfury squadron holding station above the EA fleet.

"Why are they isolated like that?" Car'nal asked. "Guard ships?"

"They mark the limit of the EA fleet, perhaps they have strayed too far." Ari'shan mused. "We will engage in single combat, but be extremely careful, these human fighters are superior to our own."

One by the one the dart fighters peeled off and accelerated towards the unsuspecting Starfury squadron with fire in their bellies and a grim determination to win back some honour for the Imperium.

"Have a care Knight squadron." Ari'shan warned. "Break and attack."

Commander Sinclair had seen the Thoruns several minutes ago but under orders to patrol his sector had simply shadowed them, now as they turned to engage he was free to take the gloves off.

"Ghost Riders, Ghost Riders, contact enemy fighters." He rattled off in that same unmodulatingly even voice he ordered breakfast in. "Move to attack, weapons free. Set intercept vector three and wait 'til you see the whites of their eyes."

The dark fighters roared into life, a shuddering burn of engines throwing them into forward motion, swinging up and pushing for the incoming enemy craft. Hague was with them, holding almost perfect formation despite his trepidation. As ordered he stayed close to Sinclair and accepted targeting data from his squad leader.

Sinclair assigned a target for each of his pilots, transmitting through the datalink to each craft to best distribute his squadrons firepower and prevent them ganging up on a few planes and letting the rest have free reign.

Hague found his target, still no more than a faint moving speck of light through his canopy On sensors though it was a clear three dimensional image, a trident shaped agent of death aiming straight for him. This stranger wanted him dead, this alien from a world Hague had never even heard of until a few months earlier had come all this way just to see someone die. Maybe the same too could be said of him.

"Wait for them to close." Sinclair spoke quietly, making minute flicks of his control sticks to achieve the perfect kill position. "Take them at point blank, they can outrun us if they want so do this fast."

Sinclair himself was the closest thing to a legend Earth Force fighter command had. He was no the longest serving or most experienced, but his kill record was unequalled in EA history. But like many pilots he had never faced the Dilgar before, they were a new challenge and he would not underestimate them. Too many had done that before and paid with their lives.

Whoever these pilots were they had survived war with the League to be here, they were not amateurs or raiders, they were the most hard bitten pilots in the galaxy. Fighting them would be the challenge of his career, and with a steady resolve he disengaged the safeties and prepared to fire.

Ari'shan was most pleased to see the human fighters accept the challenge and turn to give battle. He would have engaged them anyway but it was always more noble of a victory when his enemy chose willingly to meet him in pure unaided combat. His squadron spread out, aligning with the human squadron so they would each engage one target in single combat. Ari'shan himself chose the fighter in the centre slightly ahead of the rest, from the increased communication static originating from it he decided it had to be the leader.

The fighter was mostly grey but on its upper wing it had two bright red chevrons edged in white. It was apparently unique in that colour scheme, and as he checked the other craft also had unique imagery on them, from scantily glad females to a well defined male angel with his wings spread as wide as the fighters own wings. He wondered what significance these images had, what aspect of the pilots personality they reflected. Part of him was sad to take such personality out of the universe, but he knew he was going to give them a glorious death and a sure pass to the afterlife. He believed sincerely all great warriors shared the same afterlife, and he would get to meet these in person one day and share stories of chivalry.

"We have eight minutes until the fleet jumps." He reminded the squadron. "Don't tarry, I don't fancy waiting here for the Strike fleets to show up."

He rolled his head, letting the muscles relax and prepare for the inevitable difficult turns this was going to entail. He studied briefly the human fighters, different from the ones on record from Tirrith. They were larger, more powerful and with a more unusual arrangement. The thrusters caught his attention, big and inefficient compared to the sophisticated Thorun engines, but the positioning tripped an alarm on his head.

Their retro thrusters were mounted in the front of their main thrusters on the wing tips, the place where they would give the best leverage for a turn. More than that they had a whole wealth of smaller thrusters and massive magnetic vectoring vanes.

These fighters weren't built for speed, they were designed from the ground up for agility, and even a cursory glance told him they could run circles around a Thorun. He should have seen it in the main battle, these Starfuries were going to murder anything at close range.

It was too late to do anything about it, they were already in range and moving too fast to break off. His squadron opened fire, the red bolts blasting out at the human fighters who must have seen the energy surge and taken the appropriate action, using that agility to get clear of the initial volley and close themselves.

Ari'shan had no more time to see his squadron, his world shrank to the Thorun encasing him and the red marked Starfury immediately in front of him. This Fury did not break hard out of the way, it held its course nose to nose without flinching as if they would simply collide.

Ari'shan fired, his wing mounted guns streaking red hell at the human fighter by now almost on top of him. Most Thorun pilots aligned their guns to converge at five hundred metres, Ari'shan had his aligned for two hundred. The Starfury however didn't have that problem, its chin mounted guns would always fire wherever the plane pointed dead centre, adjusting a few degrees under computer control for precision targeting.

This basically meant that when Ari'shan fired at point blank range all Sinclair had to do was adjust minutely his trim and watch the bolt fire pass between his wings either side of his cockpit, something Ari'shan had not expected or even imagined. It was a move so absurdly dangerous he hadn't predicted anyone but himself would try it. He was so shocked he almost forgot to dodge.

Sinclair had left an opening for Ari to drop below the fighter, a trap that would give his guns the best chance for a hit. Ari'shan at the very last second realised this and in the most desperate move of his life went up and over the Fury, back flipping at full tilt and burning at a ninety degree angle, a move that blew blood vessels across his body and nearly blacked him out.

He was hazy for a few seconds, instinct moving his hands to keep the Thorun sliding off axis to throw off enemy guns. It was a lucky thing too, for he was brought to full alertness by a blue energy pulse slicing inches from his canopy.

Ari'shan had been thrown by the human pilot who was now close on his tail zeroing in with every shot. It took every ounce of skill to fly an erratic evasion and every ounce of strength not to black out from the enormous strain. The human wasn't giving an inch, he was sat their matching him move for move, turn for turn always just a quarter second behind him. If he made even one insignificant error, hesitated one heartbeat too long and he would be ash.

For the first time since sitting in a fighter Ari felt mortality, and there was nothing noble or chivalrous about it.

"Knight lead! Knight lead!" He heard Car'nal's voice but was too busy to even form words, his Thorun going beyond its design tolerances.

"Their gone! All of them! Gone, its just us left!"

Ari couldn't believe his ears and just had no time to spare analysing it. He just could not visualize his squadron as not being there, not forming up on his wings and toasting victory. They were his family, brothers and sisters in arms, they were constant and unchanging they couldn't be gone.

"What do we do!" Car'nal cried, throwing his own fighter into wild high speed turns.

Somehow Ari'shan found words and the breath to voice them. "Retreat! Back to the fleet!"

Yesterday he would not turn from battle, yesterday he would have died with his squadron, yesterday those were just words and imagination. Taday it was real. He had never actually imagined he'd see a pilot that could match him, that would take him to the limit of those beliefs and force him to a position where it could become true. He wanted to turn and fight, wanted to take on this whole squadron and go gracefully to the next life. But his body did not let him, that core instinct that kept his evolutionary ancestors alive now ruled him completely, and he did not have the will to deny it. He overloaded the throttle and bolted.

"Slippery little bastard aren't you?" Sinclair snarled mostly to himself, another discharge of pulse fire grazing just slightly too wide. The black and red Thorun was outpacing him and drawing away, he had started close enough to nearly touch the craft but by now it was smaller and taking too long for his pulse fire to reach it.

It annoyed him this pilot was getting away, his squadron had done their jobs to perfection, dodging the initial fire and responding instantly with a long burst from their own pulse cannons at incredible short range which had destroyed the Dilgar squadron in all of two seconds. All but two.

One had gone straight to full thrust with four furies hard on his six bracketing space with fire, it was only the most outrageous luck that seemed to keep him alive. Sinclair was the only one in range of this target, Hague had made his kill cleanly, which Sinclair was quite proud about, but in doing so had taken precious seconds to form up again, by then Sinclair was at full burn chasing down this straggler.

Whoever it was flying the Thorun was as good as any pilot Sinclair had met, his evading turn had been like nothing he had seen before, pure nerve mixed with desperation. Most pilots would have lost control and become easy marks, this one miraculously held it and managed to keep evading. This black and red Thorun, unique among its brethren, it had to be someone special and he was getting away.

The enemy fighter had a grid of scorchmarks over his hull where near misses had caused slight melting. Silver streaks of molten metal had cooled to form long lines of mercurial residue on the narrow fuselage, yet still it flew and still it refused to fly predictably for even one second to give Sinclair his finale.

"Ghost lead," Hague hailed him. "Commander, we're almost on the Dilgar fleet!"

"Just a few more seconds."

"Sir, he's gone, we'll get him next time."

Sinclair held on stubbornly, firing a few more volleys before swearing and snapping the fighter around.

"Alright Ghosts, funs over, resume station and await further orders."

Sinclair checked his sensors, the last two members of the enemy squadron rushing under the defensive umbrella of the warships.

"I'll be seeing you again." Sinclair resolved. "I'll be seeing you again real soon."

With the rearguard fighters facing total annihilating the cruisers did what duty required, they advanced in support and made ready to engage the human fleet directly. Bolt turrets swung on their rings and elevated to bear on the wall of grey still pressing inexorably forward, point defences made ready to take on any Human torpedo bombers or assault craft, but Earth Force had no need to risk small craft on such adventures.

"Gun crews report forward batteries laid and ready." Sterns called out. "Enemy ships in range and firing."

"Interceptors free." Admiral Thornhill gave the word. But hold main batteries, I want out first volleys to make these Dilgar very sorry for dragging us out here."

Across the line Dilgar ships fired in unison on the Earth forces, long streams of orange bolt fire tracing lazily across the gulf towards the human vessels. In quick response the interceptor turrets on scores of Corvettes snapped ont position, tracked the incoming fire and engaged with their own energy dampening pulses. The rapid firing white bolts neatly picked out and struck most of the incoming Dilgar fire, some missed however sailing away into nothingness.

The rounds that slipped through the Corvette screen were picked up by the Cruisers own interceptors, effortlessly dealing with the gaps in the net without taxing the warships own systems. By dealing with most of the interception work the Corvettes were fulfilling their role as escorts and letting the Heavy cruisers keep their turrets focused on anti ship duties.

But interceptors weren't perfect and as they were used more they overheated and lost efficiency. With a solid numerical advantage like today the Earth fleet could cycle its escorts and keep fresh interceptors always ready, but in a pitched battle Interceptors were just there to buy time.

In that respect they were not a simple defensive tool, but a way of opening up a window of vulnerability for the human heavy warships to exploit. Something the Lady Lex and her sisters were about to do.

"Any closer Admiral and we'll be able to shout foul language at them." Commander Sterns stated bluntly. "Enemy fire is starting to wear on the interceptors."

"I think we've waited long enough." She agreed. "Concentrate fire on target dead ahead, give me an alpha strike guns, fire when you have the solution."

The Lexington altered course slightly, rolling on her long axis to present her midship guns to the Dilgar vessel she had picked to be on the receiving end of some quality Earth made plasma cannons. In sequence the guns swung out, raising to cover the Dilgar ship end to end and blanket its hull with firepower. Her heavy bow cannons reached maximum elevation and surged with power, the final interlocks engaging to connect the barrels with the stored plasma itself.

The Dilgar cruiser rolled to present minimum aspect and make itself a harder target, a good idea in itself but at this range the Lexington wasn't about to miss. If anything the move helped the Earth warship, it offered more depth of hull for the plasma rounds to bore through.

With a furious glow of blue fire the guns rocked back on their magnetic trains in recoil, blasting the intensely hot balls of plasma in teardrops from the line of guns on the upper hull. They were relatively slow moving but at this range the Dilgar cruiser was out of options, it sat there, fired its own weapons and braced for impact.

Plasma hit the Dilgar hull in quick succession, each turret on the Lexington putting five rounds rapidly on target one after the other in a brief burst of violence. The miniature suns crashed into the cruiser like cannon balls into plywood bursting through the hull in super heated discharges flash frying everything for hundreds of feet inside the ship and ripping off vast swathes of the outer hull.

Human ships were built to take that sort of punishment, Dilgar ships weren't and for all their firepower they suffered from a serious glass jaw. Round after round burned through the cruiser, hitting with the force of a Dilgar Dreadnought alpha strike and gouging bright showers of flaming and melting hull sections out of the helpless and dying ship and casting them carelessly into empty space.

The ship died in spectacular style, hull alight with the damage left by the Plasma rounds, flames burning every colour of the rainbow engilfed the hull in blues and greens as the cooling and drive gases caught light and exploded from their tanks. When the Lady Lex was done there was about a third of the Dilgar ship left, a sliver of the far hull glowing white. The rest was scattered and discarded as residue of war.

"Nice work guns." Thornhill congratulated. "Now find me another."

Dreadnought Deathwalker

Dilgar Flagship

The Rearguard action had lasted a fraction as long as Jha'dur had hoped, indeed it hadn't even slowed the human advance down.

"Time to jump?" she inquired coolly.

"One minute." An'jash replied.

That at least meant she was going to be long gone by the time Earth Force got anywhere near range. Of course that escape was more down to the humans jumping so far out, if they had been a few minutes closer to the planet they could have made life very, very hard for her.

"Fighter status?"

"We're down to five percent." An'jash said grimly. "Extremely heavy losses to all units, even Knight squadron."

"And Knight leader?" Jha'dur asked carefully, hiding her apprehension at the thought of her almost adopted younger brother getting killed.

"He just landed on the War Song, with one other. Looks like he took some close hits but his fighter landed on manual, he must still be alive."

That was a cause for some relief, but with so many other fighters burning and with a number of cruisers and destroyers lost this was a costly first contact.

But a detached sid eof her refused to see this as a defeat, the fleet had learned some valuable lessons. She firstly knew never to send cruisers into combat one on one with their human equivalents. She also knew dogfighting with Starfuries was suicide. She had seen some measure of human tactics, glimpsed the capabilities of their wonder weapon, this new four engined fighter, and finally gotten a clear look at a Nova Dreadnought.

Those mammoth ships had not yet however engaged her forces, content to let the cruisers handle the rear guard. It was almost contemptuous, like the Dilgar did not even deserve their notice as opponents. But in truth Jha'dur appreciated they were saving those ships for the real action, this war was far from over.

"Jump engines recharged!" An'jash announced loudly. "All ships report ready."

"Open vortex, make for Bestine at full burn." The Warmaster ordered. "I want the First and Second Strike fleets assembled, armed and hungry for blood as soon as we arrive."

"I will contact them Warmaster."

"And I want the Third line fleet deployed too, no chances." She resolved firmly. "We have to stop these humans hear and now, if we don't they could play hell in our territory. We're overstretched as it is, our supply lines largely unguarded. We have to do this quickly and decisively. For all our sakes."

One by one the ships of the Dilgar force fled into hyperspace, leaving the Markab system to its inhabitants and their liberators. The news was met by such joy on the streets of the world below, such unfathomable relief at the fate they had been spared it spilled out into uncontrolled celebration.

Within minutes Markab was a world alive in pure joy and its last weary defenders rested their arms and thanked the gods for the timely arrival of their saviours.

"Ships of Earth," Grand Master Valna hailed the incoming vessels. "We welcome you as true friends of Markab, and emissaries of the gods come to show us the path to victory."

"Master Valna, I greet you on behalf of Earth Force, I am Admiral Akira Hamato, officer commanding the Earth Expeditionary Force. We have some supplies following in approximately twelve hours, we'll try patch up your ships and crews. You may stand down Grand Master, we'll watch your skies now."

Every member of his crew was giving prayers of thanks and blessing, it was such a wondrous sight, such a change from the grim resignation of just a few minutes ago.

"As you wish Admiral, we pass this honour to you until we regain our strength."

"I accept humbly Grand Master." Hamato replied. "We have not seen the last of the Dilgar, they will return and in great numbers."

"Then know that the Markab will fight with you to our last breath, in victory or defeat." Valna gave his vow. "We do not forget Admiral, and in the Markab you will have allies for all eternity."

"And no more noble or virtuous ally could Earth wish for." Hamato replied respectfully. "We are honoured to fight beside you. The task ahead of us is great, we must succeed where nobody else has yet prevailed. We must take on two Strike fleets at once and we must defeat them. We must defeat Jha'dur."

"The Deatwalker." Valna snarled. "A fiend so cruel the devil himself refused to admit into hell."

"Perhaps Master, but we'll give her a one way ticket back down there next time we meet." Hamato said sincerely. "We have not yet begun to fight."

Earth Alliance Sixth Fleet

Tiree system

January 1st, 2232

00:08 hours

The Presidents declaration of war had barely died in the speakers when the Sixth fleet under Admiral Ferguson made its jump into Markab territory. Like Admiral Hamato's Third fleet the Sixth had not been expecteing to go to battle for at least another half of a day and with support from the Fifth EA Fleet doubling their combat ability.

However on the more positive side they had also being expecting to meet the Dilgar Second Strike fleet which was due to be assigned to this sector base don intelligence intercepts, but like the rest of the EA force that unit was also not due for some ten to fourteen hours depending on hyperspace tides meaning the Sixth was jumping into a virtually unguarded system, which was something of a relief for the crews and pilots concerned.

The warships deployed quickly into formation and advanced on Tiree, the small Dilgar Garrison of destroyers and a pair of cruisers hesitated to meet them, sending urgent reports to their fleet command and dreading the prospect of engaging a force that outnumbered them fifty to one. Fortunately Jha'dur issued orders to withdraw, and as the jump capable vessels were resting at standby they were able to form a vortex immediately and depart, robbing the Sixth fleet of its day's sport.

"Better stand down from Action Stations." Ferguson huffed, sporting a bushy red beard and thick curly red hair betraying his ancestry despite the North American accent. "But maintain second degree readiness, this is still hostile space and we might get jumped at any time."

"Aye sir, standing down gun crews."

"Set fighters in patrol patterns and lets get a look at that planet." Ferguson continued. "We may as well continue with the battle plan and get ourselves a foot hold as soon as possible, saves the enemy having time to prepare for us."

With a few orders the fleet redeployed from standard battle formation to blockade placements, closing in on Tiree and forming a cordon around the world. ELINT ships picked up jamming duties immediately and cut off the ten Dilgar divisions on the surface from their chain of command, then began massive deployment of spy satellites and reconnaissance aircraft.

"Feed the reports through as soon as we get them." Ferguson ordered. "Prep the landing forces and tell the twenty second Cruiser squadron to prepare for orbital bombardment." Beneath the red beard a hard smile formed. "I feel like there's a smiting coming on."

EAS Normandy

Hyperion variant Assault ship

00:13 hours

For almost an hour Garibaldi had been expecting something to happen, by rights they should have had twelve hours of uneasy waiting but the Sergeant knew, he just somehow knew that this was not going to go according to plan. No way was he that lucky. His Platoon mates didn't believe him of course, but when the ships power drained into the jump engines and the cruiser jolted as it made the transition to normal space he was proven right.

"I told you so."

"Don't you ever get tired of being right all the time?" Bugs asked in wry amusement.

"Never." Garibaldi replied. "I just wish I'd get a feeling on a lottery win, then I'd be outta here faster than a Brakiri at a Free Trade rally."

Almost immediately the Normandy sounded action stations, the repetitive alarm and dramatic lighting seeming entirely unnecessary to most of the Airborne troopers. The Normandy herself wasn't expected to take a place on the battle line with the regular cruisers and instead nestled behind the Dreadnoughts with the Carriers. As an Assault ship the Normandy and her sisters had sacrificed some of her weapons for the ability to carry and deploy a full Regiment of infantry into action and keep them supplied for a full month of intense combat.

It meant that the Assault ships packed less punch than their unmodified sisters, but even so they had a hefty array of plasma cannons and an excellent interceptor grid more than allowing them to look after themselves and fight past moderate resistance to drop troops on planet. If Command so wished the ships could also make excellent attack carriers, exchanging their landing shuttles for a squadron of brand new Starfuries and using their expansive cargo bays to store munitions for long sorties. Their first class communication packages also made them very versatile ships, giving the average Assault vessel the ability to run a whole planetary assault single handed from its combat information centres, linking ground troops, artillery, air support and orbital assets into one massive and coordinated package.

But most useful of all were its plasma cannons, using the same basic components as the regular Hyperion design but with the ability to fire in different modes ideal for planetary bombardment. From highly concentrated bolts for bunker busting to dispersed shots designed to envelope a mile diameter area in searing plasma.

Their sophistication and versatility came at a high price, as much as a Hecate class Battlecruiser with perhaps half the overall destructive ability, but for its role they were unmatched by most powers. Only the Dilgar Assault ships were as effective thanks to that race's similar focus on getting troops into action fast.

The Sixth fleet had brought ten Assault ships along with ten much larger Tantalus class troop transports. The Tantalus was a monstrous ship that served as the main form of transport for the army between worlds. Armed only for self defence they were not meant to fight through to their targets and actively support the ground troops like the Assault ships, but instead would deploy huge numbers of troops to a previously secured landing zone in support of the Assault ships.

Like all EA vessels it was incapable of landing on a planet but instead held squadrons of assault shuttles and heavy lift transports in its cavernous interior. The huge ships could carry a full armoured division in their long and ungainly hulls making them essential for any planetary assault. Even more usefully they operated Starfury squadrons and could deploy Banshee atmospheric fighters for close air support of troops.

The Tantalus was quite rare in human service as Earth Force had never been intended to engage in massive planetary assaults, these ten ships were literally every vessel Earth could muster. The Assault ships were more common as Battalion scale orbital insertions were predicted, but the Senate had balked at the Tantalus concept at first. The original design had included heavier armour and an array of Dreadnought scale weapons to create the ultimate planetary assault vessel, but even the Dilgar threat couldn't get funding for those war machines. The downgraded version still had the heavy lift capacity and the ability to get a full division planet side in just two landings but sadly lacked the support weapons and extensive control facilities of its meaner progenitor. Cleverly though the designers had retained its ability to haul four squadrons of Furies if necessary allowing it to function as an impromptu if exceedingly expensive Carrier like its smaller Assault ship cousin.

In all Earth Force had ten divisions ready to drop on Tiree, Nine in the Tantalus class ships and the tenth, the 101st Airborne, on the ten Assault vessels. The final Tantalus would be acting as a support ship with extra supplies, four squadrons of Banshees and an extensive medical facility for any casualties. The fact Earth had converted a whole Tantalus bay for medical purposes indicated command was expecting heavy losses among ground forces. Something the wiser officers and NCO's among the strike force appreciated.

This force of some two hundred thousand men and women in uniform had been labelled the First Army and Tiree would be its baptism of fire.

"Okay Platoon, suit up!" Lieutenant Brook ordered. "Body armour and battle gear, we launch in ten minutes. Do not forget anything!"

"You heard the man, head for the lockers and tool up, Dom, with me." Garibaldi commanded. "Move like we're paying you enough!"

The Platoon rose to their feet and then with some proficiency travelled through the zero gravity communal area to the weapons lockers using various hand rails and rigged lines. Most of them had done this before and the journey had brought their memories back to the surface allowing them to travel through the ship better than their comrades on other vessels. For Red Platoon however it also dragged up memories of their isolation and escape on Tirrith. The last time they deployed on a warship it had been the Persephone and that experience had changed all of them.

"Alright Dom, lets get you set up." Garibaldi instructed. "Put your feet in those loops to stop you hitting the ceiling."

The young soldier did as instructed, anchoring himself to the floor in front of the lockers.

"Okay, body armour." Garibaldi passed the items over. "Keep your flak jacket, your knee and elbow pads and forget the rest. It just slows you down, tires you out and doesn't cover anything vital."

"The Academy instructors told us…"

"Yeah, I know." Garibaldi cut him off. "But I've had plenty of time in the field, you only wear full armour on hazardous worlds where you can't afford damage to your uniform. Tiree is Earth like so no big deal. Trust me on this."

"Okay Sarge." Dom nodded. "You're the boss."

"Damn right, now then, helmet. Best bit of gear you have, full comms and sensor links and lets us keep track of you. Never, ever take it off and keep your visor sealed at all times." Garibaldi said. "I know Marines like to walk around open faced, but we're Airborne and a lot smarter than that."

"Got it."

"Dilgar love chemical weapons, so keep the rebreather too." He handed a flat metal box that went on Dom's back and hooked up to his helmet. "Your battledress will keep the nasty stuff of your skin and the rebreather will last for sixty hours before you need to recharge it. We should have a perimeter by then and we can relax a little."

He passed over Dom's webbing and harness with its attached medical kits and canteens, then his pack already loaded with concentrated food and nutrients.

"Don't keep your back with you, leave it on the shuttle and we'll get it brought down later." Garibaldi said. "But do keep this." He handed over Dom's knife. "Lot of guys look down on a knife, but it will save your life. Don't let it out of your sight, keep it on you even when you sleep."

The last two items were the tools of his trade. "PPG rifle, Phased Plasma Gun. No recoil, sweet rate of fire and you get a lot of ammo from a tiny fusion cap. Great when you are out of resupply range." He lifted up a black plastic pack. "And your para-pack. Compact hang-glider for those safe and quiet landings on enemy soil. You got trained on these right? Not just chutes?"

"Sure Sarge, I made twenty jumps to get these wings!"

"Well good, but we're doing it for real and at night, so take your time and be very aware of your surroundings. Your helmet will do the hard work for you, but try not to break bones on landing."

"Sure thing Sarge."

"Well you're good to go, move out to the shuttle with the rest of the guys." Garibaldi grinned. "And because its your first Combat drop, you'll be first out."

Dom's ashen face showed his response to that news.

The troopers loaded up into special travel cars designed to accommodate the heavily laden soldiers and made the rapid journey from the habitat areas to the launch bays. While located in the same place as a regular Hyperions fighter bays the decks on the Assault vairiant were greatly expanded. Twice as tall and as wide as the ships main hull it easily held the ranks of shuttles needed to get a battalion of troops planet side in a hurry. Usually they were expected to handle mechanised units with fighting vehicles, armoured transports and a handful of tanks, so the relatively lightly equipped Airborne troops were much less strain on the ship's load masters.

The 99th was taking some limited heavy equipment with it in the form of sentry turrets, a mix of brand new CPPG gun turrets and six cell Hammer missile turrets. Controlled from a central computer point or remotely programmed the Sentry turrets were invaluable defensive aids for infantry units that couldn't call on heavier units for a while. The Airborne troops were going to be first in and if things went bad additional support could be held up for hours.

The CPPG was an upscaled version of the standard PPG weapons entering service and extremely effective against infantry and light vehicles. The Hammer missiles on the other hand were excellent vehicle killers with a respectable anti aircraft mode too. They were small enough to be carried singly by ground forces and fired from shoulder launched disposable tubes, but powerful enough to a degree that they had also replaced most vehicle mounted anti armour weapons and were used across Earth Force on APC's and even as a secondary missile for the Valkyrie VTOL gunships and Banshee strike jets.

Garibaldi had five additional single shot missile launchers in the Platoon, plus one grenade launcher in the care of Private Turnbow. At one time the platoon would also have had a pair of large support Machine guns for use in suppressing enemy units, but with the rate of fire displayed by the PPG rifles and the huge amount of ammunition they could carry the squad machine guns had been deleted from the inventory. There were many strong arguments for bringing it back, for one thing the psychological impact of a long burst of machine gun fire was a formidable asset for Earth troops. A larger variant of the PPG was in development to supplement infantry squads but be more mobile than the vehicle mounted CPPG's. Until then Garibaldi and his comrades hoped their rifles would be enough.

The way to the shuttles was well marked by coloured hand rails and the Normandy's load masters and crew chiefs. The Airborne units were split between decks and compartments and lead to the waiting assault shuttles, wisps of vapour smoking faintly from the brakes and thrusters coolants as the vehicle waited like a sleeping dragon, an image heightened by the painted on shark mouth and predatory eyes at the front of the shuttle.

Garibaldi was the firs in, finding his lace just behind the cockpit with the rest of his men filing in behind him. The last two into the landing shuttle, and as a result the first two out, were Dom and Lieutenant Brook. Garibaldi would be the last out, and as a Sergeant would be responsible for encouraging any doubters to jump with their comrades. Usually by giving them a push.

"Sit down and get comfy!" He yelled. "Keep your gear tight and check your seals!"

The Co-pilot and flight engineer went down the two rows of airborne troopers tightening their seat straps and making sure they were well secured. Garibldi kept a straight face as the engineer bound him into the contoured chair with a grin.

"You'll thank me later." The flyer said. "Ever been on a combat drop?"

"Yeah, we going on a bracer?"

"Full thrust all the way." The man confirmed. "We'll be at ten G's most of the way and twenty for the last few seconds, so I hope your gear is up to spec."

Airborne combat dress also served as a fairly effective G-suit as well as offering NBC and some flame protection.

"If not I guess I'll be seeing my lunch again." The Sergeant quipped.

"Least you won't have to come back with us, Combat drops are bad, but getting back into orbit with every hostile on the planet looking at you?" The engineer exhaled. "Cross your fingers for us."

"Sure thing buddy, good luck on that."

"Good luck to you to Sarge, all you guys." He glanced along the shuttle at the platoon. "Say 'Hello Kitty' for me." The Engineer grinned.

Garibaldi laughed along, but he could see in the Naval man's eyes that he wasn't expecting to see any of these people again, or even his ship again. They were the first wave, first human troops on an alien world held by a hostile power. This operation marked humanities first ever planetary assault and the list of things that could go wrong was vast.

The Dilgar were a serious opponent, Garibaldi knew from experience they were quite capable of slaughtering the whole 101st if they got the drop on them, and of course would not hesitate to do so. The assault ships would drop first, the 101st would secure a landing zone previously marked out by command and then allow additional heavy forces to land starting with the 7th Cavalry and the 555th Armoured units.

The problem was they were coming in onboard much larger and slower shuttles which were vulnerable to attack. If they were brought down, if reinforcements were delayed, the Airborne troops would be in an insanely difficult position. It was no wonder the aircrew didn't give them good odds. Of course at the same time the shuttle itself, while fast on entry was much slower when running back up into orbit and extremely vulnerable to enemy aircraft or ground based missiles.

Both the Paratroops and the Shuttle crews would have to rely on the Navy to keep the Dilgar pinned while they landed and set up.

Fortunately the fleet was taking no chances and had seventeen cruisers and escorts on hand to provide massive orbital support for the ground forces. For those early stages before the real war fighting arms of the army made it onto the ground the fleet was going to have to be responsible for dealing with the Dilgar ground forces from their lofty heights.

The cruiser units were at least in that respect well equipped with their plasma and particle weapons, along with Railgun and missile armed escorts to add their firepower. Most of the fleet was still deployed for fleet action robbing the ground forces of their best support, the rare Nova Dreadnoughts, but command remained confident in their assigned vessel's ability to do the job.

In addition to the standard direct fire weapons the warships would deploy in support of the troops Earth had quietly authorised the deployment of tactical nuclear weapons, though the term 'tactical' was a slight misnomer. The Cruiser squadron had several dozen hyper velocity multi megaton warheads each one far more powerful than the bombs that levelled Hiroshima and later San Diego. They had been targeted on the key elements of the Dilgar warmachine on Planet, airbases, main communication hubs, transport infrastructure and any very large gatherings of supplies or vehicles. Other targets such as the troops themselves would be handled by naval gunfire.

This would be the first time Earth Force itself had used nuclear weapons in its history, and the first official deployment of them since World War Three. In that conflict the strategic missiles fired between Russia and China had been stopped dead by the Earth Shield Satellite defence grid of the old United States. Tactical weapons had been able to slip under the shield however resulting in some tremendous battlefield casualties, but destroying only border cities caught in the crossfire.

This was something far more serious, human hands were preparing to unleash several hundred megatons of destructive power against an enemy, a carefully calculated strike to cripple the Dilgar and give Earth Force a free run of the planet. It was planned meticulously to limit effects on the environment and the colony itself, but inevitably many innocent Markab would die. It was a bitter price to pay, but that was the cost of victory.

Aboard the heavy troop ships tens of thousands of soldiers followed the example of the 99th Airborne, strapping on weapons and armour, helping their buddies into their gear and sharing a few nervous laughs or heavy silences. In single file, in groups, in sound or in tranquility the soldiers of Earth girded arms and made whatever arrangements had to be made before departing. Final letters were written and left in lockers with prayers they would never be sent. Photographs, vids and holos were carefully and lovingly put safely aside to wait on the troop ships until such time as a permanent base was established and effects could be brought down.

The Naval crew lined the corridors as the army made their way to the launch bays. At first they wished the passing men and women luck, but after a while their voices grew hoarse and they instead just stood respectfully, nodding it quiet solidarity with their brothers and sisters in uniform. Neither expected an easy ride, the soldiers on the ground were about to face the most successful army in galactic history, those in space would soon meet the undefeated might of Jha'dur's combined Strike Fleets. They all knew the burden they bore and did not envy those who went a separate path.

Heavy armour slid out of their tightly grouped storage bays and was guided into the gaping maws of the heavy landing craft, freshly painted white and grey for the wintry theatre they would soon play their roles in. Tanks, guns, missile launchers and personnel carriers followed one after another after another, thousands of vehicles transported billions of miles in service of Earth and her safety. Their crews would ride down inside the vehicles themselves and deploy directly into combat if required. It gave Earth instant heavy hitting support on the planet, but meant escaping from a crippled shuttle was impossible. If the landing craft was hit it was an immediate death sentence.

More vehicles slid into their waiting drop ships, gunships and VTOl transports among them that would be launched midair, unceremoniously dumped out of the back of the landing ships that would then make a hasty escape leaving the aircraft to engage immediately. Every aspect of this drop was designed to get assets into action the second they left their landers, from infantry to artillery. Earth had trained for this, planned and envisioned it. It was warfare in extremis, every tactic, every vehicle and every individual performing at their limits, straight into the field with no pause. It was going to be hard on the human troops but much harder on the enemy. The Dilgar would have no time to react, to regroup or analyse the threat. They would be under massive assault immediately and would have to think on their feet, ultimately at a great cost in lives.

Airlock doors cranked open allowing the divisions of infantry into the dark and arching hangars, processions of humans from across the globe walked in united purpose to their shuttles and drop ships. Naval crew helped them onboard, stowed their heavy weapons in quick release cases in the floor lockers and secured them for the rapid atmospheric entry. Few words were spoken, there was no conversation or quiet remarks. There were only simple to the point questions and quick grunted answers.

Restraints were tightened as the troops stared impassively forward alone in their own thoughts. Some clutched photographs or keepsakes, others mumbled rapid prayers under their breath asking over and over for divine intervention and protection. Their faces blank and eyes fixed ahead the soldiers of Earth made ready to head into the unknown. They were confident, prepared and ready for war, but at the same time terrified of getting stranded on a hostile world or falling victim to Dilgar atrocities. It was not the enemy most of them wanted to face, as cruel and inhuman as any Earth had known. They had it coming to them, but heaven help the poor gropos if something went wrong. Their chances of escape were virtually nil.

Chaplains stood on the hangar and blessed the ships and troops within, half a dozen holy men and women representing the major faiths asked their deities for strength and victory. They spoke with sincerity and drew some looks from the seated soldiers as the shuttles powered up for launch. The words faded into noise and background as the engines pitch and roar began to build until finally the rear doors slid slowly shut. The chaplains and sombre naval crew men vanished from sight, and for those on the outside the last image of the fully loaded transports was the dark interior and countless pairs of white eyes staring out from the black as the thick metal doors sealed them tight within the belly of the beasts they rode now to war.

The transports were guided forward on magnetic rails to the launch decks, red lighting coating the interior of the ships with crimson blood and gently rocking the troops crammed within. a long slow progression through the halls of steel built in the yards of Io or Proxima. The encasing might of the warship was both reassuring and oddly homely, a simple reminder of Earth, some art shaped by human hands soon to be replaced by a frozen battlefield of alien origin.

The only humanity they would find there would be each other, and the only works of human craft the battle tanks and warplanes they were bringing with them. They hoped it would be enough.

"Lift One to control, fuel interlocks check, heat sinks normal, engines at full capacity." Garibaldi's pilot rattled off. "We are locked down and ready for combat drop."

"Roger that Lift One, standby by for bay doors in five seconds." The Normandy operations controller informed.

The air in the launch bay was sucked out and stored in vast tanks for later use rather than simply jettisoned into space, faint clouds of white vanished through vents as Garibaldi craned his neck to look through the cockpit windows. A few moments later the thick armoured door ahead of them began to retract, the red light of the bay turning off and giving the flight crew a perfect view of the starfield beyond. Hanging surprisingly large just below the nose was Tiree itself, a mix of whites, greens and blues. It was beautiful, but held no promise or allure for Garibaldi. It was a place of death about to get a visit from hell.

"Doors locked and clear." The flight controller stated. "Catapult locked, launch countdown commencing."

"This is it people!" Brook called out above the sound of the engines running up to full throttle. "Brace yourselves!"

The shuttle was rattling so hard it felt like it was going to simply shake apart, the pilot was pushing his throttles far forward but for a few seconds more the docking clamps held them, letting the shuttle gather enough thrust to let it maintain a high acceleration all the way down.

"Good luck Lift flight." The Flight officer said. "See you soon, launch in three, two one, mark."

Garibaldi had been on a combat drop before but even with that experience this particular launch was an utter nightmare. The shuttle was hurled out of the bay by an electromagnetic catapult giving it a massive acceleration boost only helped by the fully throttled up thrusters. Even with his G-suit Garibaldi could see his vision hazing as blood was forced from his brain by the acceleration. It took a few seconds to adjust and when he did he had a perfect view of the planet ahead.

For a moment he thought his vision was still not back to normal as he experienced bright flashes, before realizing those flashes were in fact passing plasma rounds, thankfully heading down not up.

The pilot was utterly focused on his flight computer following his set flight path, he couldn't afford even a tiny drift. Earth was putting a lot of shuttles very quickly into a tiny airspace, if they had just one ship out of place it could result in a midair collision and cause a serious setback for the landing forces. The other possibility of course was straying into the path of the orbital fire support, which would of course be instantly fatal.

The warships had begun firing a few seconds before launch and at most ten minutes after Earth Force ships had arrived from hyperspace, so fast and efficient was the mobilisation and preparation of the landing forces. The heavy guns opened up with highly diffused plasma at first for area affect, great showers of light falling rapidly on and around the landing zone first and expanding outwards in an ever widening circle of absolute destruction.

The landing zone was a simple wide area of grassland and farmland, though at this time it was covered in snow and ice. Earth had selected this particular point as the initial landing zone, and three more relatively close by ones as secondary landing sites to minimise congestion and eliminate the problems caused by putting all their eggs in one proverbial basket.

In a single split second flash the wide fields of white vanished in a blazing miasma of heat and plasma vaporising and ice and snow for miles around and combusting trees and empty houses out to the same distance. In space the energy bolts had no sound, but in an atmosphere they roared like Thors own thunder and struck with all the fury and spectacle that Norse god could have mustered. The area immediately around the blast was totally carbonzed, nothing burned because anything remotely combustible had been burnt away in a fraction of a second after impact. The fertile farming soil was turned to glass by the heat, not smooth and clear glass used in homes across the galaxy but a rough and unlovely material that glinted harshly in the light of the falling gunshots.

The destruction was immense, rapid fire cannons belched blue fire by the hundreds of rounds, rapidly widening the circle and killing anything that could have been waiting and hiding to assault the landing troops. It was an immense show of power for nobody to see, just the troops on their way down. It was somewhat reassuring, but they reserved judgement.

The brightest flashes and greatest destruction came from the fusion missiles, preceeded by a few volleys of plasma fire to fox ant Dilgar ground defences the long weapons dropped through the air at amazing speed, their sonic boom and air displacement alone would have been deadly to anything in the area, if of course they were not stood at the epicentre of a nuclear explosion.

The dozen weapons were not intercepted and detonated as predicted, some airburst while others buried first into the ground to collapse Dilgar bunkers and underground structures. The Dilgar were caught completely flat footed with only a handful of atmospheric fighters in the air, invariably the older Stinger class fighters that had been replaced by the far more capable Thoruns in naval service.

Most of them were lost on the ground, with only a week on planet the Dilgar had not had time to build ultra hardened aircraft hangars or erect planetary defences. They had no anti warship weapons at all which was not seen as a problem considering the Markab had no warships. No one had predicted Earth would attack and no contingency was put in place. Tens of thousands of Dilgar soldiers now died for that oversight.

In addition to shuttles and missiles the Earth Force ships fired a series of black pods at much higher speeds than the assault craft, overtaking the shuttles mid flight in blurs of stealthed black armour. Garibaldi barely noticed a small group whiz past amid the missile contrails and flashes of plasma fire. He was too busy trying not to loose his lunch as the shuttle grew ever closer to the colony world and the landing zone.

The black pods hit the atmosphere hard, their forward hulls beginning to erode away over their roughly oval shape. Their fronts glowed insanely hot as they slowed, having no engines of their own the friction caused rapid deceleration but not so much that the atmospheric could be termed anything other than violent.

With long black streaks of burning air the three dozen pods broke the atmosphere and began to fall from the sky, decelerating to mere hypersonic speed they held their trajectories and began to arc down. Long before that happened though they would stop existing.

The back of the pods cracked open, the armoured front end blown off by explosive bolts allowing the shell to crack and fall away, spinning from the air on an uncontrolled path to the ground. Birthed from within the pods like birds springing from metal eggs emerged Earth Force Banshee strike jets, delivered safe and sound from orbit to the atmosphere quickly and effectively, armed and primed for immediate combat with the few Dilgar fighters that were in the air and vectoring for the assault shuttles.

The Banshee was powered by a mix of SCRAM-jets and more conventional regular jet engines and could not operate in space, nor did it carry the thick hull plating to allow rapid de-orbit and re-entry. This method of delivery was very risky but when it worked it worked very well. This was the first combat test of the theory and mercifully all three squadrons arrived intact.

The delta winged human jets had a massive speed and agility advantage over the Dilgar Stingers, craft designed for both space and atmospheric operation and therefore less capable than the human pure atmospheric craft. They attempted to close into range of their bolt cannons, weapons that would have shredded the Banshees with even a near miss, but the humans wer enot going to let that happen.

The Banshees fired missiles from two hundred miles away, each weapon guided by its own intelligent target lock package until they hit unfailingly, annihilating Dilgar air power in an instant and clearing the way for the landings.

The shuttle hit the atmosphere with a jolt like a hammer impacting on Garibaldi's body armour and instantly began to lose speed despite the thrust from the engines.

"We've got some chop up ahead!" The pilot called. "Hang on!"

Garibaldi had a hard time believing this could get much worse, but indeed it did ad the shuttle rocked in all directions, battered and buffeted by air turbulence from its own entry and jet wash from a preceding shuttle in front. Fortunately the seat restraints held, and for an uncounted time Garibaldi kept his eyes closed and thought happy thoughts of warm homes and his family.

He hardly noticed the shuttle stop rocking and begin to alter course, he did however notice the sudden change in orientation.

"Okay, here it comes!" The pilot yelled. "Brace! Brace! Brace!"

The shuttle had been heading groundwards like a bullet, now with a blast from it's retros and full vectoring it pulled up level with the ground. It looked neat enough outside, but for the shuttle and anyone in it the actual effects were bone crushing, without G-Suits it could have in fact proven fatal.

"Alright, we're level!" The flight engineer announced this time. "We're coming down to jump speed!"

This was where the paratroopers would earn their pay.

"Stand up!" Brook called. "Check your gear and get ready for the jump!"

Garibaldi released his harness with two taps and stood from the seat which had been so incredibly vital to his well being on the drop. His nerves were in the pit of his stomach and right now he was genuinely afraid, but he'd be damned if he let anyone know.

"Come on people, this ain't a lawn party! What, you think this is an invite to a barbecue Tucker? Get your rifle clipped and get your ass in gear!"

The troops bustled in the cramped interior of the shuttle, the red light helping them see and preserving their night vision, not that it especially mattered with their helmet systems. They would be jumping at night which while much safer also held many risks, even with the advanced scanning and visual enhancers on the Airborne soldiers helmets.

"Almost there!" The pilot said. "Opening rear door!"

The steel slab dropped down to form a ramp, the engines on either side thundering in the shuttle while wind rushed past howling like a tormented ghoul. Magnetic deflectors kept the thrust away from the ramp and troops, but it was still going to be a bumpy jump.

"Ready for this Dom?" Garibaldi asked on hiss commset, verbal communication now impossible with all the noise.

"Ready sarge." He said

"It's a tradition, new guy always goes first." He said. "But on the bright side the first guy is usually the one who's the big surprise, the last one out is the one who always gets shot on the way down."

"Who's last."

"That would be me." Garibaldi shrugged. "Bu the day a Dilgar kills me is the day the Devil takes up building snowmen. Just remember the drill, and I'll see you flatside."

With a chime the light turned from red to green, the universal signal for go, and with one final heart pounding lunge Dom was out of the shuttle and free falling, Brook a second behind him. One by one the paratroopers launched themselves from the ship at the run with no more doubt or hesitation. Garibaldi was the last, and after proudly watching his platoon execute a perfect jump he followed, pausing to turn and give the flight engineer a thumbs up. Then with no further delay he vanished into the night.

It was cold. It was in fact insanely cold, at this height and at this speed the wind chill was atrocious cutting through his apparently thermal uniform to chill his blood. He was glad his helmet was sealed as the effects on his body would no doubt have been horrific to endure. This was it now, no turning back in the most literal of senses. He hurtled ground ward, his tactical display showing the rest of the platoon in a long line ahead and below him dropping like bombs towards the ground. Above he knew the shuttle was at full burn flaming its afterburners and running like hell but he couldn't see it. He had his own issues.

From his viewpoint he could see the incoming plasma rounds falling to the ground, long bright lines of blue energy and burning air as the anti ship weapons struck home incinerating vast swathes of land. The area beneath them was already scoured of life and features, a black waste of ash and destruction broken only by the occasional rock.

Earth Force no longer used parachutes except as an emergency measure. The Airborne troops coming down on Tiree each had a personal hang-glider packed into a plastic back pack. With a flick of a switch telescoping struts emerged like bats wings dragging a thin but strong polymer sheet with them. At the same time the front harness held two steerable levers to control the glider and give the trooper the ability to accurately plot his or her landing point. In some instances glider troops could stay airborne for hours and travel hundreds of miles, but in this case the 99th wanted to be on the deck as fast as possible.

To that end they simply fell from the sky, a classic high altitude, low opening drop designed to greatly reduce their vulnerability to interception but at quite a risky cost. Accidents during training were sadly common and if something went wrong with the gliders the trooper in question had literally seconds to open his reserve parachute or simply hit the ground.

The helmet display told Garibaldi all he needed to know, and as its altimeter ticked down he reached for the release controls and made ready for the inevitable jerk of the deploying glider. With a final brace he pulled the control yokes and extended the wings at about the same moment as the rest of his unit. As expected the sudden increase in drag significantly slowed him down but not so much as an old style parachute.

He quickly gained control of the glider and checked his descent, keeping the speed up but under control. Many Airborne troops became master pilots of these contraptions, sweeping back and forth with utter grace and birdlike agility. Garibaldi just couldn't get on the ground fast enough. For him it did the job of not killing him, and that was just fine. He didn't want to look good flying, just hit the ground in one piece and that was it. In hindsight perhaps Airborne infantry wasn't the best choice.

The ground grew ever closer prompting Garibaldi's warning system to suggest a change in orientation. He tilted back on the controls and swept into a more level flight, the black glider cutting swiftly through the air of the alien colony world getting lower and lower. Ahead of him the first of the Airborne troops had touched down and ditched their gliders, spreading out and searching for targets.

Carefully Garibaldi tilted further back, stretched out his legs and hit the ground at a brisk walking pace. He ran sturdily a few steps to kill his speed and then disengaged the glider, the back pack falling away and letting the wings retract inside so they did not obstruct the rest of the team. As soon as the pack was released he unclipped his rifle from his front harness and dropped to the ground scanning back and forth for targets. Like the rest of his team he found none forthcoming.

"Sound off contacts!" Brook demanded.

"All clear." Garibaldi replied. "Nothing for miles sir."

"Okay, take positions and set up the sentry turrets." Brook ordered. "Lets make our piece of Tiree the most secure bit in human hands."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi confirmed. "Okay Bugs, Tucker, find where the Turrets landed and get 'em working, fifty metre spacing, get to it."

The two experienced soldiers ran to unload the defensive weapons while the rest of the unit fanned out to secure their assigned sector. Across the landing zone similar scenes were taking place as each small unit of the 101st division found its place and prepared to defend their sector to the death, it was their only option.

"7th Cavalry should be down in a few minutes." Brook said. "Look what the fleet did to this place."

The crunching of glassed earth beneath Garibaldi's feet spoke volumes.

"They really plastered this place sir."

"If we could only do it to the whole damn planet." The Lieutenant shrugged. "But I guess the Markab wouldn't enjoy that."

"I guess not sir." Garibaldi agreed. This was meant to be liberation, not vaporisation. "Gives us something to do later sir."

Brook chuckled. "That's the spirit Sergeant. We'll give the Dilgar something to worry about, a reason to fear us."

Garibaldi wished he could be so enthusiastic, but after seeing Dilgar troops first hand and experiencing a taste of their skills he wasn't going to be taking any chances down here.

"We'll get the job done sir, cleanly as we can."

Fire still rained from above, the barrage from the Navy gradually widening out into the night. Sometimes the flashes illuminated a dark grey mushroom cloud on the horizon, the location of a major Dilgar staging area for a mechanized division which would no doubt have been rushing towards the Airborne division right now had it not been on the receiving end of a ten megaton fusion bomb.

Earth was making a hell of an impression on the planet, but the full results would be seen later.

A gust of rushing wind and fiery blasts of reverse thrusters announced the arrival of their support perfectly on time. They were far enough behind the Airborne landing to break off if a disaster had unfolded, but still close enough so that if things went to plan the 101st wouldn't be alone for long.

The shuttles touched down on the scorched earth and had their ramps dropped before they even stopped, spilling troops onto the ground. The Army Personnel scattered and hit the ground on either side of the deployment ramp and looked out for trouble just as Garibaldi had done. When they were satisfied they rushed away from the ship and headed for the perimeter to take their positions in support of the Airborne elements.

The landing shuttles rose up into the air on their belly thrusters, rising straight up to a safe height before engaging their main engines and soaring thunderously skyward back to their parent ships. Long stabs of light marked their progress all the way up to space, dancing circles of light in the dark.

"Make a hole!" Yelled a brash voice. "Who's in charge here?"

"Sir." Lieutenant Brook stepped forward, Garibaldi standing close by.

"Colonel Gerard, Seventh Cavalry." The man introduced himself, standing out from his rank and file by virtue of a large black Stetson hat with the famous gold crossed swords displayed on it. Brook was going to mention standing orders to wear sealed helmets at all times, but thought better of it. "Situation?"

"No enemies in the vicinity sir, landing zone is secure and ready to expand.""

"Outstanding." The Colonel nodded. "Captain Sonerman, call in the birds, fleet should have dropped them by now."

Unlike the 99th the 7th Cavalry was armed with assault rifles, 6mm slug throwers with tremendous stopping power. Otherwise their equipment was much the same, though most of the cavalry troopers had taken to wearing a yellow scarf around their necks over their uniform. It didn't help camouflage but Garibaldi guessed it must have been good for morale.

"Slicks on the way Colonel." A more appropriately uniformed officer saluted, presumably Captain Soneman.

"Okay, spread the word and get ready to mount up, we're moving forward."

"Yes sir."

From the skies above the much slower VTOL troop transports began to land having being launched mid-air, dropping gracefully to the ground in a kicked up cloud of ash and dust thrown up by the jet engines. The Frigga transport was a far more elegant and graceful aircraft than its bulkier and more brutal cousin, the Valkyrie. A direct evolution of the centuries old Osprey the Frigga had the same basic layout but more aerodynamic for increased speed and replacing the large turbo props with high capacity jet engines. Frigga's were very fast, but also lightly armoured as a consequence. They could withstand ground fire from automatic cannons and light plasma throwers but wouldn't last long in a heavily defended zone, and fighters had them for breakfast.

"Bugler!" Gerard called. "Front and centre!"

With a scuffle a pair of young troopers also in stetsons slid to a halt in front of the Colonel, each clutching an incredibly old looking brass instrument. Garibaldi was pleased his helmet hid the rolling of his eyes. Cavalry just had to make a drama out of everything.

"Mount up Cavalry!" Gerard called. "Okay boys, hit it."

The first trooper brought the bugle to his lips and belted out the rising clarion call to arms, a brief and sharp centuries old tune that held huge history and significance for the old Cavalry unit and it's American ancestry. As the first trooper finished the call the second took it up, repeating the series of ringing notes until he too finished and the first man played again, a rolling cycle as the Cavalry rushed to their transports and prepared to take the war to the Dilgar.

The first laden VTOLs took to the air with yet more dust and ash thrown up around them, their engines swivelling on their wing mounts to propel them upwards and then forwards, all the while the call to the charge rising and falling as the bugles carried in the night air.

"Well gentlemen, guess we'll be meeting later." Gerard tipped his wide brimmed hat in an old fashioned gesture. "Happy hunting."

"You too Colonel, see you at Drallang." Brook responded in kind.

The Cavalry officer spun on his heel and joined a platoon of his men running with their heads down towards the nearest Frigga.

"Buglers, that'll do!" He yelled over the engines. "Lets get going, hells waiting!"

The last of the 7th loaded up and the VTOL doors closed shut, the engines gaining tremendously in power and pushing the grey vehicle up into the frozen air.

"Show offs." Garibaldi huffed as the jet transport roared away in a stream of hot vapour, joining the armada of similar transports, gunships and strike fighters moving to secure ground closer to their primary objective, the Dilgar headquarters at Drallang.

"You know what they used to say about Cavalry?" Bugs remarked. "That the horses got all the brains."

"And now someone took their horses." Garibaldi grinned. "Yeah, I can see that."

The first of the heavy lifters began landing now, shaking the ground with their powerful engines and great weight. From their bellies disgorged tanks of the 555th armoured battalion racing for the perimeter to add their considerable strength to the human forces. The landing craft were a constant tide by now, dozens landing every few seconds and then taking off again empty. Earth forces already had thirty thousand troops on the planet within ten minutes of the first soldier putting his foot on Tiree, and that soldier had been Dom.

"How was your first Jump?" Garibaldi arrived beside the young man.

"Pretty exciting sir."

"You mean terrifying right?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "Yes sir, guess I do."

"Nothing to be ashamed off, keeps you alive out here." The Sergeant stated. "We'll let the ground pounders take over here in a few minutes, then get some rest."

"What, you mean that's it?" Dom frowned.

"Sure, we met no opposition, you expected to be dug in here all week?" Garibaldi smiled. "Relax, we've got plenty of fun ahead. We're slated to lead the attack on Drallang. Dilgar central."

Dom was not best pleased at the news.

"Never a dull moment in the Airborne." Garibaldi said. "We're not done yet, not by a long shot."

And as the tanks rolled by in clouds of ash, jets roared overhead leaving barely visible contrails in the dark sky, and blazing bolts of heavenly fire cascaded to earth over the horizon Dom felt that barely suppressed fear rising again. The real test was yet to come.


	63. Chapter 63

61

62

Tiree Colony

Markab Space

January 3rd, 2232

With a dull rumble that he felt in the pit of his stomach rather than simply heard an invisible flight of Banshee Strike Fighters passed overhead, somewhere tens of thousands of feet in the air above his position. He looked up but could only see the thick white clouds obscuring the sky above, the jets would be far above that patrolling for any Dilgar warplanes that survived the orbital bombardment and initial bombing runs.

Garibaldi had yet to see a Dilgar on this world, so thorough and immense was the support fire that everything for miles around had been burnt to a cinder, the ground beneath his feet still crunched as he trod on glassed earth and around him only a few spikes of petrified trees indicated this was once a forest.

The blackened moonscape had been softened by snow fall, a white bandage on the wounded and torn ground that brought an eerily peaceful quality to the ravaged colony. More than anything it was the utter silence which made Garibaldi uneasy, if it wasn't for the snow still falling from above he could have been looking at an oil painting frozen in time.

There was no life. The Markab were long gone, rounded up by the Dilgar or executed. They had passed what was left of a village or two on their advance, levelled to the foundations by either the invaders or the Earth Force barrage. The Dilgar of course were also long gone, retreating before the Earth ground forces back to their strongholds under constant air and orbital attack.

But it was the wildlife that was really missing, and it had taken Garibaldi almost a day to pinpoint it. No birds, no animals, not even insects. Sure it was winter, but even so there was usually something alive and moving. He hadn't seen a single creature, and had concluded that regrettably it was Earth's fault, an unfortunate but necessary side effect of their barrage.

"Sarge?"

He became aware of a voice calling him from behind.

"Dom?"

"Yeah Sarge, Captain was looking for you, he's getting his briefing set up."

Garibaldi raced his face skyward and just stood there feeling the cold snow flakes land on his brow, hearing that far rumble of the receding warplanes and exhaling one more cloud of breath into the white sky. He savoured that last blissful heartbeat of peace before filing it away in memory and accepting the travails now placed before him.

"Okay Dom." He took his helmet and crammed it on his head, letting the leather internal straps press onto his worryingly thin hair before switching on his tactical computer systems that linked him to the rest of the company. Straight away he saw the daily orders scrolling through, top of which was the location for the briefing due in five minutes.

With a final adjustment of his rifle slung on his shoulder he turned his back on the white desolation and headed back to the camp, Dom closing on his heels. In stark contrast to the world around the 99th' Airbornes camp was a hive of bustle and business. The quiet of the petrified forest vanished as voices carried on the air and the growl and rumble of vehicles passing by merged into a single droning din.

He crossed a low rise in the land and came to the tent city his unit had erected in the space between two ridges on a dry riverbed. A road ran on either side snaking a long train or vehicles around the city towards the front line, hastily whitewashed tanks and troop transports blending in with the falling snow. On the ridges around them Uller air defence vehicles ceaselessly scanned the horizon for targets, ready to slice bombers or ballistic missiles out of the sky with their multiple laser arrays.

The two soldiers half walked and half slid down the inner banking and proceeded into the camp, dodging between the convoy of vehicles and entering the rows of tents themselves. It was still only an hour after dawn but most of the regiment was active and finishing breakfast, Captain Franklin and his officers already apparently done and ready for the days affairs.

The Battalion Headquarters was clearly visible, marked by the array of radio, Magnetic resonance, microwave and tachyon communication dishes and poles sprouting like an alien tree from the comms truck assigned by the signals corps for battalion use. Normally airborne units had to make do with whatever could be carried in the back of a drop ship, so the extensive communication suite was seeing a lot of curiosity.

"Dom, do me a favour?"

"Sure Sarge." The young fresh faced recruit nodded eagerly.

"Go pick me up a re-heat, I don't think I'll have chance to sit down for breakfast, so go fetch me one from the kitchen for later."

"No problem Sarge."

"Then tell the Platoon I reckon we'll be moving out shortly, so start packing."

Dom grinned. "We're going to the front?"

"That's my guess." The Sergeant confirmed. "I mean look at all these vehicles going by, you don't move until you're ready to pounce. It'll happen today."

"Sooner the better." Dom said with nervous energy. "I'll get gone."

"Try and get me something Italian!" Garibaldi called after him. "Do not get chicken!"

With a shrug Garibaldi made his way into the command tent, he could understand why Dom was so eager to see action, but also understood that enthusiasm was probably a front for fear. He couldn't predict how Dom would react once the fire started flying, but with Bugs and himself watching the young guy's back at least he wouldn't do something stupid. Hopefully.

The interior of the tent was dimly lit to give better definition to the illuminated screen where the briefing would be conducted. Inside it was packed with every officer and sergeant of the regiment assembled to hear the Colonel speak. The Colonel was a staunch believer in decentralising command roles, which was why Garibaldi and his colleague NCO's had been invited. If the local officers were out of touch or killed their platoon Sergeants could take over and continue the fight with a clear understanding of their objectives and place in the overall plan. It was a lesson from World War Three when the integrated Land Warrior and Future Infantry Technology had given Junior officers all the information of a headquarter unit through data links. That technology now extended to all of Earth Force to a point where Garibaldi could be linked to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs directly on Earth if there was a need. It was a lot of information, usually only officers had the training to interpret and deal with it but the role of Sergeants was gradually expanding to include decision making as well.

He took his seat beside Red Platoons commander, Lieutenant Brook, and after a quick exchange of pleasantries settled down for the briefing to begin.

Lieutenant Colonel George Longstreet was not the most imposing man in Earth Force, and while tall he had a lean physique when compared to Garibaldi or Franklin. He was however still in peak physical health despite being middle aged now with grey hair and would jump and glide with the rest of his people. He was a well liked and respected officer among his battalion and the division at large and largely accepted as a future General in waiting.

"Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen," Longstreet began in a trademark Tennessee drawl. "I've just returned from a briefing with General Adams, the gist of which I'll relay to you all and our role in detail."

He activated the screen to show an orbital high resolution scan of the target city.

"For this operation the City Drallang will be known as 'Tommy' to confuse Dilgar communications. Our mission is to take the city and neutralise all Dilgar resistance within."

The room remained mostly silent, it wasn't a huge surprise for them, after all they didn't travel all this way to get into a staring match.

"We're going in on foot as part of Battlegroup Alpha, consisting of the 101st Airborne and 7th Armoured Divisions. As we assault in one direction Battlegroup Beta consisting of the 4th Infantry and 6th Guards Tank Divisions will be assaulting on our right flank with the intention of catching the Dilgar in a good old fashioned pincer." Longstreet highlighted two broad arrows sweeping into the city.

"As you can see target 'Tommy' is made of three concentric rings of structures with parks in between. The design is constructed to symbolise an aspect of Markab religious scripture with a large tall shrine at the centre. Recon indicated the crypt beneath that shrine is Dilgar central, and our Brigade has the pleasure of fighting right to the city centre and taking out that location."

There were a few moans and mutters.

"Luckily we're going to have some support." Longstreet grinned.

He zoomed the image out to show the whole city sprawl extending a few miles in all directions. Unlike the neat rings of parks and buildings of the city itself the suburbs were more of a mess lining roads in and out of the main city.

"Thermal imaging has indicated minimal lifesigns in the suburbs." The Colonel stated. "Therefore we won't need to advance through miles of buildings, the Dreadnought Charlemagne and her escorts are going to do us a big favour and turn the suburbs into a field for the advance. We'll level about half the suburbs to give us room to manoeuvre while rail gun frigates crater the ground on our flanks to hinder any Dilgar flanking attempts."

Lieutenant Brook raised his hand. "Sir, why not just level the whole city from orbit?"

"That's point two." Longstreet answered. "Three large camps have been identified within the inner park ring. These have been confirmed as Markab concentration camps holding around a million people who were to be used as slave labour for whatever these Dilgar scum bags planned to do next. Our bombardment isn't accurate enough to take out buildings from orbit and not hit this camps, if we're off by half a degree we could kill a hundred thousand innocent Markab. Command has ruled that out."

He returned the map to its focus on the city, highlighting the three camps.

"Our secondary objective is to liberate these people, but not until after we've destroyed Dilgar forces in the area. While we can't bring in orbital strikes here we do have some hefty artillery and air support to clear the way. It won't look as pretty but we'll make sure there's nothing left standing in that city except those camps."

The Colonel rubbed his hands together. "We load up in one hour, we're hitching a lift with the 7th Armoured. The operation starts at Eleven hundred hours, sooner the better. I've uploaded specific orders to your battlefield management systems, you'll buddy up with an armoured platoon and support each other during the advance. It will be pointed but measured, we don't want to get ahead of ourselves with an enemy like the Dilgar."

He looked briefly across the room.

"This is it boys and girls, our first real taste of interstellar war. Humanity hasn't fought a war on this scale since the last World War a hundred and fifty years ago. But we are not going in blind, we've trained for this, we've prepared for this, we've lived our lives in uniform getting ready for this event. Good luck people, no doubts, no hesitation. Dismiss."

Drallang

Dilgar First Guards Division

10:30 hours

Warleader Kem'shan had been staring through his binoculars for most of the morning, scanning back and forth looking for hints and signs that the assault would begin. The other officers had varying opinions about what would happen next, some expected to vanish in a nuclear fireball, most expected a siege and for the humans to starve them into submission. Kem'shan and a few others however expected an assault, and as senior surviving officer on planet it was Kem'shan's word that was obeyed.

Kem'shan was a veteran soldier and commander who had earned his rank on the Drazi front. Most of the soldiers on this planet had only seen action on the few League colonies not annihilated from orbit, and even then resistance had been scant due to a few orbital strikes. Kem'shan on the other hand had been in the intense crucibles or Tithalis and Fendamir fighting against often overwhelming odds of fanatical Drazi. With the front quiet he had been transferred to a highly prestigious Guards division made up of similar veterans and assigned to Jha'durs forces as a sort of reprieve to rest and recover while fitting into his new unit.

Nobody had expected to see much action, and the arrival of some hundred thousand supremely well armed humans had greatly surprised him.

From the original ten divisions the Dilgar had put on the planet eight had been destroyed, pulverised from orbit by Earth ships within an hour of their arrival. His artillery park was gone, his two airbases smoking craters thanks to a couple of tactical nukes dropped by a missile cruiser and any hope of relief forlorn thanks to the few hundred human warships still in the system.

Kem'shan had immediately grasped the situation and had recalled every soldier to the city gambling that the humans would not nuke the Markab slaves that were being held close to his command post. For the past three days stragglers from the eight ruined divisions had trickled back giving him some fifteen thousand men overall who had survived the attack, plus his own Guard division that was intact in the city and a Stormtrooper division that had been rounding up slaves and pacifying the suburbs with their usual vigour.

Kem'shan didn't trust Stormtroopers, like most professional soldiers he considered them fanatics in uniform. However they were both numerous and fearsome in battle if undisciplined. He decided to keep them in reserve. He deployed his best division around the central circle of the city in the best defences while sending the composite division of survivors out to the second circle to dig in and await Earth Force. He had very few true defensive structures having been on the planet just a few days himself, their heavy fortifications and heavy guns were still on Mitoc awaiting delivery, something unlikely to happen now.

He sent his engineers forward and ordered them to build as many bunkers as they could, snapping up steel frames and filling them with instant setting concrete to make effective and cheap defences. His troops dug trenches and foxholes while his remaining artillery and tanks went to ground and camouflaged themselves in all encompassing blankets that protected them from thermal and resonance scans.

He was prepared, at least as well as he could be, now he just waited.

With a scuffle he heard his deputy stop beside him and patiently await his attention.

"Latest news Ba'sai?"

"Sir, the recon drones managed to get some pictures before they were destroyed this time."

"An assault is on its way?" Kem'shan guessed.

"That is my interpretation, the humans will be crossing into the suburbs at any time."

Kem'shan raised his binoculars again, he was stood on one of the low rooftops near the shrine. While the shrine was like a green spike rising two hundred feet into the air and a perfect observation point it was also the biggest target for miles around. Kem'shan had cameras up there but kept his living observers to less obvious roof tops. He still couldn't see anything.

"Alert all forces, tell them to dig in and prepare for airstrikes."

"Yes sir."

The Dilgar had no one in the suburbs, it was just too much land to cover with his relatively scant forces though he had trapped the main routes into the city. He doubted the humans would be dumb enough to simply walk down the main road but it gave his troops something to do laying traps and had boosted morale slightly.

Before he could consider further his binoculars shut down and went dark to protect his eyes from a sudden bright light, and Kem'shan threw himself flat to the roof as the entire front of his body felt like it had been exposed to a furnace.

Several miles away the visual sensors on Garibaldi's tactical helmet likewise adjusted for the sudden brightness, his opaque visor already locked in the closed position and illuminated by the holographic images of the world around him. He looked high in the sky and followed the long lances of laser energy down to the ground where they turned the small houses of the suburbs into powder.

With the rest of his squad Garibaldi was riding on top of a Thor tank which a little later on would be their support during the battle, and likewise they would by supporting the thickly armoured vehicle. While the Thor's 135mm Binary Liquid cannon could shoot through any fortification short of a landed warship and its heavy PPG guns could massacre platoons out in the open it was still vulnerable to a well hidden anti tank squad, and a single Dilgar missile could end the tank crews day very quickly.

This was where Garibaldi came in, his troops would move ahead and around the tank clearing out embedded Dilgar troops while the Thor offered rapid fire PPG support and the occasional incendiary or canister shot if things got too much for the Airborne guys to handle. It was a well tried and tested example of team work that went back to the earliest days of armoured warfare, only the technology changed.

Most Earth formations were still recruited from a single region of the planet, the 101st for example was eighty percent American as it was historically an American raised unit. Likewise the 7th armoured was about seventy percent British and had a slightly different character to the other armoured division on planet, the mainly Russian 1st Guards Tank Division. As Earth force expanded and raised new units to fight the Dilgar those national characteristics were begin to disappear into a homogenous human army composed of people from every corner of the Alliance. But for now at least most of the core regiments of the Alliance had a strong national identity and of course some friendly rivalries.

This particular tank was 'owned' by Sergeant Doug Campbell of the 2nd Royal Dragoon guards, better known as the 'Scots Greys' after the heavy grey horses the regiment rode in their founding days. The regiment had earned fame in the wars of the eighteenth and nineteenth century as one of the most feared cavalry forces in the world, even Napoleon was said to be terrified by the ferocious Scotsmen. Their failure was a reckless streak which led many to their deaths in battle, but also earned them some stunning victories.

Campbell revelled in that history, but like his modern comrades had learned to not let his head be overruled by his heart. Powerful as his vehicle was it wasn't invulnerable and he was not about to suffer the fate of so many of his forebears. His tank was a standard model barely two years old, the Thor was the product of the standardisation Earth was undertaking to replace the hundreds of national weapons and vehicles that armed the army. It not only made supplying the various armies much easier with standard components but gave human troops a truly fearsome warmachine unrivalled among the known alien powers.

While the Thor could trace its ancestry back to the Tanks of the twentieth century it was a very different beast. Most noticeable was its size, seemingly tiny by earlier standards the Thor was less than six feet tall and its turret barely twenty inches. The two person crew occupied the front end of the hull while the back held the quiet running electric engine capable of throwing the tank across ground at a hundred miles per hour. The 135mm gun was entirely automated and capable of handling armour piercing sabot rounds as its main anti armour projectile, high explosive for demolition work, incendiary for clearing buildings with a burst of thermite and canister rounds which unloaded hundreds of fletchettes like a shot gun in the face of attacking infantry.

It's small size was allowed by the alloys it was made from, the latest in Earth Force composite protection similar to the material used on the new Dreadnoughts. It was light enough to keep the tank airmobile, tough enough to survive most armour piercing rounds at all but the closest range, and specially designed to resist plasma and heat based attacks common to known alien anti tank devices. It had better protection than the monster hundred and fifty ton beasts of World War Three with the agility of a scout car and the firepower of a naval vessel.

Campbell's vehicle itself had been painted black and green for temperate operations, the move to snow filled Tiree had required a quick overcoat of white emulsion paint that had remarkably come from a DIY shop and was meant mainly for painting houses. The tank bore the regimental insignia of a chained eagle along with a tattered patch of regimental tartan on the back as a celebration of its Scottish ancestry.

From inside the orbital bombardment was barely noticeable, just a slight shaking of the ground and a spike on the commander's thermal readings.

"Alright, here we are." He alerted the driver. "Give us a stop and wait for the go order."

The tank slowed, its tracks clanking to a stop beneath Garibaldi

"You still up there Crowbar?" A thick Scottish accent called on his helmet comms.

"Still here Scotty." He grinned back. "Better than an Orion Taxi ride."

"Aye well, people don't try and cut you off in one of these darlings!" Campbell quipped. "Anyway, we're at the jump off point. I'm going hull down on the back of this ridge to wait until the light show is over."

"Gotcha Scotty, I'll take my guys to a quiet corner and wait 'til we get the go order."

"Be seeing you laddie." Campbell announced as the troopers jumped off, then whirred the engine up again and advanced a few dozen yards to a covered spot behind an embankment, the other tanks in the area following suit.

"Okay guys, hold down here." Garibaldi ordered. "I'm gonna check the way ahead. Dom, why don't you come along?"

The young soldier bounded forward. "Sure thing Sarge."

"Just keep low and follow."

Garibaldi led the way forward to the edge of the ridge, lowering down to crawl as they approached the top. His white painted helmet and winter battledress making him hard to spot. The ground was frozen solid and rough to crawl over, not for the first time he was glad of his knee and elbow protection.

He was also glad of his visor, as the image over the hill would likely have blinded him without it. The scene was almost biblical in its grandeur and terror, vast pillars of fire raining down from the sky with a roar of immense fury sucking in black clouds of dust and earth into the maelstrom of dancing beams.

Neither Garibaldi nor Dom had seen an orbital strike this close, the barrage during landing had been distant rounds falling miles away, this barrage was not only visible from top to bottom but was also massively more impressive. In space the laser cannons produced a fairly faint red beam designed mostly for carving deep into enemy ships. For the bombardment role the weapons were less focused and had their power reduced so they didn't carve deep ravines in the ground. The strikes were not penetrating especially deeply into the ground, by the immense heat was turning the top soil to splintered chunks of ugly misshapen glass and reducing the buildings, trees and public spaces to airborne rubble.

It wasn't just the physical impact of the lasers but their atmospheric affects that were so destructive. The intensely hot beams turned the air around them into equally hot gas which precipitated localised but terribly powerful gusts of wind, and when the beams moved it set the hurricane force winds moving with them. With air burning and moving around them it sucked in cooler air from the sky around causing even more intense storms as the escaping hot air met the incoming cool air. The beams themselves were doing terrible damage, but the storms that now surrounded each of the strikes were greatly helping in turning a wide area to rubble.

Garibaldi was not a hugely religious man, but even to his cynical eye the spectacle looked like the wrath of an angry god. The usual red coloured beams now appeared as white as fire as they passed through air particles with their bases a firestorm of red, orange and black. Even this far away his clothes were being tugged by the distant winds and high above clouds were being sucked in and vaporised.

It was hard to see how many beams were firing, but Garibaldi guessed the Dreadnought was laying on a full broadside. Finally the pillars stopped, a final roar of flame and turmoil growled for a few moments afterwards before vanishing, the instability that caused them now gone. Garibaldi could imagine what the sight did to the Markab, even now he expected the prisoners were cheering their god's heavenly fire. He could also guess what it had done to Dilgar morale.

"How about that huh?" Garibaldi spoke to Dom over their comms link.

"Holy hell." Was all an awed Dom could manage.

"I bet the Markab just said the same thing." Garibaldi chuckled. "But I can see why you can't try precision strikes with that sort of thing."

Amazingly the beams had cut through the cloud cover that had existed since the night before, which shouldn't have been very surprising for Garibaldi. What did cause his breath to falter was the wondrous window of blue sky now visible through the overcast clouds. It wouldn't last long and even now was shrinking, but in those few moments the sun shone down and lit up the city in a warm glow of yellow light. Again for the Religious Markab it must have looked like a portent of salvation. Hopefully it would be.

The clouds were once again shredded by projectiles from above, not lasers this time but rail gun shots. They were travelling so fast they were only visible for the blink of an eye, burning white lights of atmospheric friction and hard metal leaving a black trail of tortured air behind them before they hit the ground. Garibaldi was physically tossed six inches into the air by the shockwave before thumping back down, the impact transmitted through the ground faster than the air. A couple of seconds later the ripping thunder of the strike reached him, then it was repeated again and again and again.

The Rail gun barrage didn't have the visual awesomeness of the laser batteries but the sound and the earth shattering force of the shots hitting the ground more than made up for it. Each impact left a massively deep crater in the ground which no tank could realistically cross and threw up tall plumes of dirt high into the air, slowly caught by the wind before being utterly swept away by turbulence from another falling shot.

Garibaldi lost count of the impacts, but he guessed about fifty. From his perspective this barrage was worse than the lasers or the plasma rounds of the initial landings and he could well imagine buildings in the city collapsing as the were shook apart by the short, sharp earthquakes. He hoped the Markab had the sense to cover their ears, but even so Earth Force had probably just deafened the whole population. Luckily medical science was at the point where burst ear drums and shaken inner ear components could be easily repaired.

The barrage finally stopped, the city lost in a sea of dust thrown up from the ground with each passing miniature quake. Garibaldi and Dom both had to recapture the breath knocked out of them by the orbital strikes before they could speak, let alone move.

"You know, this is one of the reasons I wanted to be a pilot." Dom huffed. "Least I can fly away from stuff like this."

"Nah, you'd get bored." Garibaldi slapped him on the back. "Come on, time to do what we're here to do."

The Sergeant led his comrade back to the Platoon who all looked quite shaken and were in the process of checking their gear. He was just in time to get the message from his commander.

"Captain Franklin to all units of Alpha Company," the helmet head phones announced. "Begin advance in company of your assigned armoured unit. Watch for stragglers."

And that was it, they were going into battle.

"Okay, you heard the man, pack it up." Garibaldi roused them. "You know your tanks, get into position! Red Platoon, front it up, leave the flanks to White and Blue Platoons."

"We're in front?" Dom asked with mild anxiety.

"Best place to be, they won't be ready for us." The Sergeant assured. "Stay with me or Bugs, and don't go wandering. You'll be fine." He grinned, though his visor hid the gesture. "Trust me."

Dilgar Guards Division.

10:36 hours

Kem'shan's world was still ringing, shaking back and forth like a nightmare. His body gradually regained something approaching normal function and allowed him to raise his head from the prone position he was laid in. everything around him was brown and gritty, a thick airborne carpet of dust particles gently falling lightly down through the air after being lifted up by the strikes. He was immensely thankful for the helmet covering his ears, neck and face and letting him breath in the thick cloud of detritus.

"Ba'sai!" he yelled. "Ba'sai!"

"Sir." Came a dull answer. "Over here sir."

"Get to the command post, the attack is imminent!"

"Yes sir."

"All units prepare, I'm heading to the artillery park to get some more information. Use secure comms only from now on."

Understood sir."

"Go then." Kem'shan rose to his feet. "Move quickly, the humans could be here any moment!"

The deputy ran down one flight of stairs while Kem'shan took another, pulling down his imaging goggles so he could see through the dust cloud. None of the rounds seemed to have hit close by, if they had overpressure would have turned his insides to mush despite the body armour he was sporting. He bolted the short distance to the small battery of heavy mortars that represented his final examples of long range firepower. The eight squat guns were mounted on open topped semi armoured vehicles and had a huge supply of ammunition thanks to a lack of demand after the other artillery units were annihilated.

While few in number the mortars still had a full spotting section including hundreds of drones that were launched enmasse to fly up into the air and locate distant targets for the artillery crews. They represented the only recon elements Kem'shan had left after his satellites were shot down and his few remaining aircraft hoarded for the right moment.

Within a minute he had a flight of drones up and as soon as they passed above a few hundred feet they began to fall, human air defences cutting them down with pinpoint accuracy. The Dilgar were losing drones at an alarming rate, but three survived long enough to get a snap shot of the area ahead of him. Quickly Kem'shan rushed to a computer terminal and looked at the images filtering through.

"Impressive, they've destroyed half the suburbs, everything between us and them." The Artillery Captain stated. "Right up to the outer ring park."

"And their bombardment cratered the edges of their line of advance, a ready made piece of impassable terrain." Kem'shan nodded. "They're good."

"I think we could cross that cratered area for a flank attack." The Captain affirmed.

"Perhaps, but not fast." Kem'shan shook his head. "And while we stumbled over those obstacles we'd be vulnerable to air and artillery strikes. I'm afraid Captain we're stuck in these buildings."

He looked at the final image showing the widest angle. "And there they are."

He gestured to a broad formation of vehicles and troops emerging from behind a series of ridges and folds in the ground.

"An assault."

The Captain stood straight. "Permission to fire sir."

"Not yet, disperse your mortars first, hide them close to the Markab camps, then start firing."

"Understood."

"Use your nukes and chemical rounds first, then fire whatever is left until you run out." Kem'shan ordered. "At which point you will join the infantry defences."

"Yes sir."

"Warmaster Jha'dur will return for us, we just need to hold this city until then."

"Then we counter attack?"

Kem'shan laughed behind his mask. "Absolutely. To your station Captain, time is short."

Earth Force forward command post

10:47 hours

Most of the dust was gradually settling but it was still affecting visibility, fortunately the array of scanners on planet and in orbit wasn't affected by dust.

Lieutenant General Marion Adams lowered her binoculars with a frown. "What did we get from fleet recon?"

"Satellite images and scans have pinpointed the Dilgar air defences." Her aide reported. "The co-ordinates have been fed through to the artillery battalions."

She raised the binoculars again. "Lucky they weren't here long enough to set up a real defence, it'd be murder to shift them."

"Yes Ma'am."

Her binoculars caught something through the dust at the edge of the city. "Movement." She said. "Get the trackers on that, find me a better resolution."

Beside her a tripod mounted sensor array focused on the location she had indicated, feeding an image to a portable computer. Adams stepped to the machine, taking a moment to pet the Alsation all General Staff had attached to their command posts on the advice of the EIA before looking at the screen.

"Dilgar trenches." Her aide said. "And a bunker there."

"What are these?" she pointed to a few upright streaks. "I need more resolution dammit!"

"Yes General." The aide said flatly, having long since adjusted to the bad tempered commander of the 101st division. "coming through."

The image crew less grainy, though still black and white. As the edges sharpened Adams finally recognized what she was looking at.

"Markab." She stated in a toneless voice. "The Dilgar have tied Markab civilians to poles in front of their trenches. Those heartless bastards."

"Living shields."

"Living shields." Adams confirmed. Inside she was overcome by cold fury at the utter lack of honour displayed by her opponents, mostly when she had been in action she felt satisfied when the job was done. Today she was going to actually enjoy killing these beasts. "If they think that'll stop us they've got another thing coming."

She grabbed a field telephone and flicked the appropriate switch.

"Thunderclap this is Eagle actual."

"Receiving." A Russian voice replied.

"Commence firing sequence."

"Confirmed, Thunderclap will begin firing."

"Give 'em hell Sergei, Eagle out."

She put down the phone, no need to mention the Markab civilians. She didn't need to give the gunners any sleepless nights.

"Hope they forgive us for this one." She whispered as she raised her binoculars again.

Fifty miles behind the command post lay two battalions of Loki Self propelled guns and a battalion of Freya rocket launchers under the command of the eighteenth mobile artillery brigade of the Russian Consortium. Like the new Thor tanks the artillery was brand new and used a standardised template common to the new united Earth Force army. Indeed many components on the tracked carriages themselves were interchangeable with the Thor tank making the job of mechanics and quarter masters infinitely easier.

The Loki was, like the Thor, deceptively small mounting a long 165mm gun with an effective range touching sixty miles with the right ammo. Earth maintained some bigger and better guns, but their mobility was less than impressive and for most purposes the Loki had served very well. It was the most accurate gun in human history with the sort of accuracy only dreamt about in previous generations. Thanks to data linking it could receive telemetry from any unit with a rangefinder and a clear view of the target, in this case a satellite above the city, and put a shell on target with less than a metre of error. That precision was the number one reason why the Loki was so favoured by Earth Force commanders especially in a scenario with nearby civilians.

Like most artillery it had a wide range of shell types from smoke to ten kiloton tactical nukes, which could get very hairy if dropped too close. They could even use proximity rounds as make shift anti aircraft guns if an enemy aircraft was dumb enough to fly slow close by.

Today they were using good old fashioned high explosive rounds to shatter Dilgar bunkers and collapse their trenches and foxholes, with some anti personnel rounds for counter battery fire if the need arose.

As a precision weapon the Loki found itself lacking in simple raw barrage ability. They were fast firing but the weight of the shell didn't allow a particularly great amount of explosives to be held within. They would destroy anything they hit, but not much around which was often a problem. There were two solutions, one was to deploy a second battery of bigger guns, and the other was the Freya.

The Freya packed sixty rockets onto its frame with the usual mix of anti personnel, anti armour or high explosive warheads common to human artillery. Usually these munitions were dropped over a target as the rocket passed overhead, scattering mines or other cluster devices over an extremely wide area. Because these munitions were quite small they had limited effect on buildings and bunkers but were lethal to infantry in the open and the soft tops of enemy vehicles.

The rockets were far less accurate than the Loki artillery guns but could be fired in such huge numbers that it didn't really matter. They could go through a full sixty rocket discharge in less tan two seconds, and had a dedicated armoured reloading vehicle which simply replaced the whole launcher box with a fresh one to fire again after thirty seconds.

Most countries referred to the Freya as a 'Multiple Launch Rocket System' or simply its initials MLRS, but the Russians continued to call them 'Katyushas' in honour of their own original mobile rocket launchers.

This particular brigade had painted red stars on their vehicles to identify them as units of the Russian Consortium, a matter of pride among the gun crews who considered themselves the best artillerymen in Earth Force. They were not wrong.

With a loud clank the breaches slammed shut and the long guns began pointing skyward, a bristling hedge row of steel tubes reaching for heaven and carrying hell.

Red Platoon

10:50 hours

The ground was still sizzling as Garibaldi led his men and women forward over the area flattened by the orbital strike, his boots thankfully protecting him from the lingering heat. They had a long way to go over the desolation and needed their strength at the end, so command was happy to let them stroll towards battle with their tank support leisurely rolling along beside them.

Battlegroup Beta on the other hand was rushing forward two miles to their right, their vehicles just about audible in the distance as they sped forward. Beta group was scheduled to hit first at exactly 11:00 hours and draw the Dilgar towards it, the mechanised 4th Infantry division would leap out of their APC's at the edge of the city and then do the same job Garibaldi was about to and support an armoured thrust to the heart of the city killing any Dilgar they met on the way.

But first before either group arrived they needed to soften up the defences a little.

With a roar like a passing jet the first artillery rounds came over, no more than ten to give an indication of how accurate the guns were and to make sure the satellite data and targeting data were the same. Once the accuracy was confirmed things would start in earnest.

There were some puffs of smoke in the town followed some moments later by the dull thud of explosions. The initial targets for the artillery were Dilgar anti aircraft units and the surviving Dilgar artillery which had been pinpointed by the immense scanners on the Sixth fleets ELINT ship high above despite Kem'shan's best efforts. With the information fed back and forth both artillery battalions fired together, the guns tracking for their new coordinates as the auto loaders dropped new shells into the breaches and closed up for firing, a process taking no more than five seconds giving the Loki a respectable rate of fire and the ammunition train no end of headaches.

Even at the high speeds they travelled at it took a few minutes for the shells to arrive at their target, thin lines of black and white arcing over the clouds and pushing back through with a roar or torn air.

Garibaldi could feel the dozens of shells hit the ground as he advanced, it was of course no where near as bone shaking as the orbital strike but it was still something he felt in the pit of his stomach like a bouncing lead weight.

The thunder of the passing rounds and the crack of their explosions filled the air, ending in gouts of flame and raining soil. Garibaldi spotted a few blocks of masonry hurled hundreds of feet in the air as a building was destroyed and what could have been a body, though even with his helmet visuals it was too distant to tell.

The artillery was still focused mainly in the city, the outskirts where the main Dilgar defences were situated had largely been ignored. The guns had however achieved phase one of the strike and had taken out the air defences. They gathered fresh ammo and let their smoking barrels cool for a few seconds as phase two occurred.

No sooner had the last rounds hit the dirt when a new far deeper sound signalled the arrival of a fresh wave of hardware. Above the clouds Three squadrons of Banshee strike aircraft raced past at hypersonic speeds, they were long gone before Garibaldi even heard the terrific trans sonic boom of their passing. Before they passed each dropped six four thousand pound satellite guided bombs on their predetermined targets, suspected command and communication facilities for the Dilgar defenders.

Again clouds of smoke and fire billowed over the city and again it was just a preview of worse to come. Buildings for hundreds of yards around were collapsed by the blast of the heavy bombs and any Dilgar in the area was instantly killed, creating panic and confusion in their wake.

Even worse came when the second wave of aircraft passed by, five squadrons of Wraith strategic bombers deployed the night before direct from Proxima. Unlike the Banshees that performed multiple roles the Wraiths were pure heavy bombers loaded up with an unholy amount of ordnance. Usually they were tasked with launching cruise missiles from far beyond the horizon but today with full air superiority they could bomb with impunity.

They conducted the approximate equivalent of twentieth century carpet bombing, but with each of the hundreds of five thousand pound bombs they dropped fully guided to achieve the maximum pattern of destruction without harming the Markab camps.

For the Dilgar on the ground it was pure hell, a mix of massively powerful high explosives and incendiary fireballs that roasted soldiers in their underground bunkers. The sixty Earth Force bombers delivered more firepower than a Second World War massed bomber raid and the effects on the city were much the same. Within a minute the city had been turned from free standing structures to ninety percent rubble. It looked like it had been hit by a nuke.

And it still wasn't over, with the Wraiths pulling away one more squadron of Banshees rolled in, this time at low level beneath the clouds. Garibaldi watched the sleek jets thunder over and drop a series of long thin bombs on the Dilgar front lines on the edge of the city before rapidly turning away and climbing.

The bombs they had dropped were the latest Thermobaric weapons, truly terrifying devices designed to empty bunkers and defensive positions through a combination of intense heat and massive air pressure. It didn't matter if the Dilgar were in bunkers or not, the lucky ones died in an instant as they were incinerated by the initial blast, the less fortunate ones died as their chests imploded due to the very air in their lungs being forcibly sucked out by the Earth made bombs.

It was one of the more horrific ways to die, but compared to the crimes perpetrated under the orders of Dilgar officers it was a mercy.

Within the city Kem'shan was running for his life, the city turning to ash and flying splinters around him. The explosions were so continuous it was all one big thunder to him and his every step was a battle against roaring winds and biting dust. He sometimes heard voices screaming and yelling around him, and once he was sure he heard a plane fly overhead. Then suddenly a bomb had exploded close by and Kem'shan had the unusual sensation of flying, followed by the far less pleasant sensation of landing hard on a pile of bricks before blacking out.

He came to some time later, it could have been minutes or hours later but he noticed at once the fury had subsided with just a lower rumbling of impacts and thuds somewhere in the distance. He was aware of two dust caked soldiers above him trying to help him to his feet, and gratefully allowed them to do so.

As soon as he was up the soldiers saluted, perhaps noticing his rank under the layers of dirt and grime the barrage had thrown on him.

"Stand down." He nodded. "Where are you two from?"

"Eighty Ninth Line Division sir." The larger of the two answered. "Assigned to section 3."

Kem'shan looked around him at the complete devastation, he was shocked he'd survived. He recalled this was section 3.

"There isn't much here to defend." He laughed hoarsely. "Report to section one, hopefully I still have a unit there that could use reinforcements."

The soldiers saluted again, then darted off leaving Kem'shan by himself. He could more feel than see the artily strikes but recognized it as the rough location of his front line. He turned around in a full circle taking in the new situation, there was barely a building left standing, just piles of rubble blasted apart by the Earth Force attack forces with who knows how many of him men in them, now crushed or dismembered beneath the ruins.

"Ba'sai." He tapped his headset. "Still alive?"

"Yes sir." The response was immediate. "Good to hear you are too Warleader."

"I need status reports now." He demanded. "I'm on my way to the central command post, it's the only thing rated to survive this. Meet me there. We need to adjust our plans."

Red Platoon

11:21 hours

The artillery had mixed now with more direct gunfire, a sign that Beta group was now engaging Dilgar troops directly. However it didn't sound very intense, a sure sign the titanic pre battle barrage had done its work well. Garibaldi had been stepping over burning rafters and slabs of masonry for the last fifteen minutes, along with some smoking debris he didn't examine too closely. The face of war was never going to be pretty, he just had to make sure it happened to the enemy and not his friends or himself.

A few more artillery rounds burst ahead of them, by now they were very close to the perimeter and within sniper range but nothing had yet responded to their presence. The Platoon carefully picked through the rubble covering each other and using broken walls and larger piles of masonry to shield them from any Dilgar defenders who had lived through the thunderous hailstorm.

Silently Garibaldi's squad leapfrogged forward, rifles training back and forth as they searched for any signs of their enemy. Above there were a few more rushes of air and stomach turning impacts as shells landed closeby, but beside that it was oddly quiet with just their own breath and the steady clank of tank tracks following them to disturb the peace.

"No contact." Corporal Connor reported on his headset. "Not even bodies."

Garibaldi made one more sweep before coming to the same conclusion. "Guess the gunners did their job. Okay, move up to the next sector, slow and steady."

The Platoon moved past the mangled Dilgar perimeter and entered the outer ring of the city without incident, a faint fall of snow resuming as they advanced over the broken buildings and infrequent cracked open bunker. The four tanks of the support troop followed them up, grinding masonry to powder under their tracks and swinging their turrets left and right in a mirror of the airborne soldiers around them scanning with their own weapons.

"Crowbar to Alpha actual, come in."

The helmet computer automatically connected him to the requested unit, in this case Captain Franklin.

"Alpha actual receiving, report Sergeant."

"First sector clear, moving on to the next waypoint."

"Understood Crowbar, proceed with caution. Beta group is meeting stiff resistance, there are still enemy forces active in the city."

"Roger that sir, I'll keep you advised."

The area they were advancing along had been a pilgrim road, a winding path that would eventually lead to the city centre and the shrine at the centre which was remarkably still standing, its green stone tower piercing the rolling dust clouds that slowly caught on the wind and blew away out towards the ocean in the far distance. With no buildings standing however there was no need to keep to the road and the platoons simply walked in a straight line darting over and around the rubble or in the case of the tanks simply driving over it.

With a slight warning flash Dom's sensors picked up a brief heat source ahead, it was only visible for a moment and he was ready to discount it, but instinct told him to be obsessively careful in this sort of environment.

"Sarge?"

"Got something Dom?"

"Brief heat signature, could have been a body. It's gone now."

Dilgar troops were known to wear thermal suppressive uniforms very similar to the ones Earth troops wore to mask their body heat from thermal scans, if there was a Dilgar ambush ahead they probably wouldn't spot it until they were almost on top of them.

"Where?"

"Ahead, fifty yards, where that low wall is."

Garibaldi followed his directions and saw the obstacle, the corner of a house and adjoining wall some four feet high surrounded by rubble. It was the perfect ambush site.

"Good call Dom." Garibaldi congratulated. "Connor, take second squad and flank left, Harlow, go right with first squad. Scotty, you hear me?"

"Still here Crowbar." The Scottish tank commander confirmed.

"I'll need suppressive fire in ten seconds."

"It's yours."

"I'm marking the location, heavy PPG fire should be enough."

"Moving in."

Garibaldi was aware of a louder whine of electric turbines as the tank increased its power and sped into position, coming to a halt just where Garibaldi was crouched. His battlefield management display showed where the two squads were deployed, taking cover quickly and quietly a dozen yards either side of the suspected Dilgar position.

"Harlow, ready a pair of grenades." Garibaldi ordered. "Connor, stand by to advance." He took a few calming breaths, hoped this wasn't about to turn into a waste of ammo, and then gave the word. "Okay Scotty, open up."

The Thor tank engaged with its cupola mounted CPPG, controlled remotely from the Commanders station in the middle of the tank. As a purely ground based weapon it didn't need to worry about damaging the insides of a space craft and as a result fired much larger and more destructive plasma bolts at a very high rate of fire, almost a stream to the neutral observer.

The weapon was highly effective against body armour and the metal of light vehicles but struggled to punch through stone which proved resistant to melting, only gradually heating to a point where it would flake apart. It was a serious limitation and one of the main reasons a large number of EA regiments had kept their slug throwers for city fighting in spite of the ammunition limits.

While it didn't pulverise the wall it did have the effect of keeping the Dilgar pinned down, if they tried to get up and run they would literally be cut in two by the plasma rounds. A few shouts and gruff orders confirmed Dom's reading and showed there was indeed an ambush in place, Garibaldi made a note to buy the kid a drink after all this was done.

"Connor, keep them down."

From his flanking position Corporal Connor's squad rose from cover and fired their own PPG rifles towards the Dilgar, hitting them from behind the cover of their wall. The Platoon claimed its first Dilgar kills since Tirrith as Connor hit two of the huddled ambushers, causing yells of panic from the survivors. In a show of discipline the Dilgar troops returned fire, splashing blue particle rounds into the stones surrounding Connors squad as another Dilgar trooper fell flat with half a dozen smoking holes in his chest.

Garibaldi observed all this on his helmet display, noting the Dilgar unit was well and truly pinned and fighting for their lives. "Harlow, grenade."

Corporal Harlow now moved in for the kill, advancing from a different direction she used the data from Connors troops to pinpoint the best place to throw a pair of grenades so they did the most damage. She and a fellow soldier pulled the pins, pressed the arming switches, then threw the small spheres from cover to land almost exactly in the middle of the pinned ambushers, they didn't stand a chance.

The twin explosions ended the brief firefight, throwing a pair of bodies over the wall into crumpled heaps. They wore the camouflage of regular Dilgar infantry but were mostly obscured by caked dust and blood. It was a wonder they survived the barrage at all.

"Good work people." The voice of Lieutenant Brook congratulated from several hundred yards further back. "Resume positions and keep going, and I think I'm going to nominate Harlow for the divisional baseball team, we could use a good pitcher."

The air was split by a sharp ripping noise followed by a series of pings and whizzes. On instinct Garibaldi flattened himself behind a pile of rubble and was glad to see the nearby soldiers doing the exact same thing. He ran through the platoon data and noticed from Bug's helmet record a burst of fire from a shell crater on their right.

"Dilgar machine gun nest!" He warned. "Everyone keep the hell down!"

The Dilgar weapon was firing a rapid string of barbed fletchettes, they had limited armour piercing ability but would cause horrific injuries if they managed to hit one of Garibaldi's soldiers.

"Crowbar, this one's ours." Sergeant Campbell announced. "Watch our tracks."

The Thor tank nosed forward, its metal tracks trundling past just inches from Garibaldi's head. The plink of the fletchettes hitting the tank increased as Campbell moved out of cover and swung his turret to face the emplaced Dilgar troops. A second later there was a punch of hot air as the tank fired an explosive round into the crater, annihilating the machine gun team in a blast of smoke and dust.

"Anybody hit?" Garibaldi called on the radio.

"First squad good." Harlow confirmed.

"Second Squad okay." Conner echoed.

"Do not get sloppy!" The Sergeant growled. "Keep up your scans at all times! We should have seen them the second they raised their heads, I do not want to see it happen again!"

there was a chorus of '"Yes Sarge' from the Platoon.

"You mess up here and people die. Never forget that. Okay, lecture over. Form up and proceed carefully. If in doubt shoot first, clear?"

"Clear Sarge."

"Move it along, I've got plans for the evening that don't involve fighting Dilgar in the dark."

Dilgar Guards Division HQ

11:33 hours

Kem'shan still had to duck every time he heard the whiz and rumble of an artillery shell, its dull thump sometimes close, sometimes far away. More than once he'd been showered by dirt from a near miss that came down near his command post. Logically he'd moved away from the central plaza and taken command of the defence from within the burnt out ruins of an old Government office, the floors and roof above victims of an Earth Force high explosive round.

"We've located two main lines of advance." Ba'sai pointed out on a paper map of the city sprawled on a desk. By using paper and pens rather than videos and networked computers Kem'shan was hoping to keep a low energy signature and avoid attracting unwanted attention.

"Sectors eleven to fourteen." The Warleader observed. "A narrow front but still broad enough to keep us from really concentrating. And they can easily support each other if required."

"Our own forces are at less than fifty percent." Ba'sai informed grimly. "The line units manning the outer defences took the brunt, they're isolated and fighting hard, but they won't hold."

"Artillery support?"

"We have two mortars left."

"Armour?"

"Less than company strength, against an estimated two human divisions of tanks, extremely effective ones at that."

"Dig them in." He ordered. "Have them pile up rubble in front and make themselves hard targets."

"Yes sir."

"What about nukes?"

"We have our reserves, three kiloton yield ballistic missiles six hundred miles from here."

"They survived the bombardment?"

"Yes sir."

"Launch them, target the human artillery and follow up units behind the front line."

"As you wish sir."

"These humans fight like they never run out of ammunition." Kem'shan grunted. "I've never seen this intensity in battle before, they must have spent tens of millions of credits worth or resources bombarding us, maybe more. It's just not something I've ever heard of, it's very impressive."

"That's one way to describe it sir."

"That sort of commitment is hard to fight against, more of a challenge than just fanatics." The senior officer considered his options. "Order the artillery to engage these troops here." He pointed to the map. "Then send in the Stormtroopers to counter attack. We push back this assault, then loop around and bite into the flank of this one." Kem'shan nodded. "And get those nukes in the air and remove the human artillery."

A few hundred miles away a trio of Dilgar mobile launchers initiated a crash firing set up. Not bothering with stabilisers they simply raised their ballistic missiles on their backs and fired before the orbiting warships could respond. Less than twenty seconds after firing the missiles all three vehicles and anything else for a mile around vanished in a firestorm of superheated plasma fired from a passing cruiser.

"Contact missiles!" the sensor officer on the Normandy warned.

"Interceptors?"

"Out of range Captain."

"Get a patrol there right now!"

Skimming the upper atmosphere a flight of old Tiger furies responded, dashing into position as the three missiles reached the top of their flight arcs and began to descend.

"Raven lead, fire at will."

The Furies couldn't get low enough for a targeted shot so had to saturate the area with plasma fire. The bolts were heavily diffused by the range and the atmosphere but against simple missiles they were still deadly. They managed to hit two, but the third got past them.

"Hell, Raven leader, we missed one!"

"Roger that, pull up and return to position." Their flight controller ordered flatly. "It's up to the ground forces now."

"Ballistic track, zero-three-zero!"

"Designate hostile and engage immediately, all batteries fire automatically."

In addition to artillery, tanks and the assorted infantry support and supply vehicles Earth Force had also prudently deployed Uller anti aircraft vehicles across its vulnerable supply lines and rally points. Unlike the older mobile anti aircraft batteries the Uller mounted a pair of laser cannons combined with an extremely accurate sensor and targeting package. The laser armament meant it could only engage targets within line of sight, which was regarded by many as a huge disadvantage compared to missile based systems. However the beams had exceptionally long range and were able to reach low orbit in most circumstances, plus the lasers would hit their targets near instantaneously making them very effective against hypersonic aircraft, or ballistic missiles.

Four vehicles swung their guns up under computer control and fired less than two seconds after the order was given. The lasers pierced the missile and destroyed it while it was still in the stratosphere and long before it armed itself, the burning debris falling lazily to the ground of the course of almost an hour.

It was much the same role their original ancestors had performed in World War Three, bringing down Chinese Tactical Nukes launched in desperation at NATO forces in the closing stages of the war. They were even accurate enough to bring down high speed missiles and usually anti radiation missiles specially designed for destroying the air defences themselves.

"Too close." The battery commander exhaled in relief. "Those fleet guys better get their act sorted out, another fright like that and I'll go grey."

Red Platoon

11:40

The warning came from a sensor station ten miles away. It was fed to the local satellite and beamed down to each of the soldiers and vehicles participating in the assault, and with most urgency to the officers and men of Alpha company. The warning flashed up on their helmet displays before the threat was even noticed by the troops on the ground.

"Hit the deck!" Garibaldi yelled unnecessarily, his microphone quite capable of relaying his words as a whisper. The urgency and adrenalin of the situation however raised his voice as well as his heart rate. "Incoming!"

The Dilgar mortars barely made a sound as they travelled through the air, they did not have the supersonic speed of Earth Force shells or the rocket propulsion of the Katyushas, if it wasn't for the sensor warning Garibaldi would have no idea he was under attack until the first bomb exploded.

The mortar bomb was a lot bigger than the human artillery rounds and exploded with terrific force, rocking Campbell's nearby tank and blasting Red Platoon with a gust of burning hot air and dirt. The Dilgar only had two mortars left but their rate of fire was enough to keep a steady rain of high explosive crashing down around the forward elements of Alpha groups advance.

"Hold position Red Platoon." The infuriatingly calm tones of Captain Franklin said from two miles away. "Our guns are firing now."

"And here I was planning a little stroll!" Bugs laughed. "I thought we nailed their artillery?"

"Since when did intel get anything one hundred percent right?" Garibaldi called back. "Just stay down and wait for it!"

A round dropped close by, dropping a shower of stones on Garibaldi including a half pound brick that banged on his helmet and pushed his head into the ground. He swore heavily and forced himself to get lower.

Overhead there was the piercing scream of Earth Force rockets passing overhead like the cries of Valkyries stalking the battlefields of the ancient Norse myth. The rockets left thick trails of white smoke behind them blending in with the clouds as they rained hundreds of munitions down on the area where the Dilgar artillery was located.

The last Mortar round came down almost immediately behind the rearmost tank supporting Red Platoon. While the armour kept the tank in one piece and its crew alive the sheer force of the explosion flipped the tank like a multi ton toy and dropped it on its roof with a crunch of flattening metal and expensive equipment.

"Red Platoon, enemy guns silenced." Franklin spoke on the headsets. "I read no casualties among the team."

"No sir." Garibaldi picked himself up. "We lost a tank though, three left."

"Very well, but we need to keep going. I'll try and get you a replacement but we are still well engaged in beta sector, they're getting all the reserves."

"Guess we'll make do then." Garibaldi answered in resignation. "Moving forward."

He quickly checked his rifle to make sure it hadn't been damaged in the brief bombardment when he was interrupted by a call from Corporal Harlow.

"Contact front!" she warned. "Dilgar troops advancing rapidly!"

Garibaldi rushed into action, leaping over rubble to Harlows position. "Take cover, get into firing positions and stand by!"

He slid down behind a pile of bricks and quickly spotted the Dilgar troops, they weren't even trying to hide. About a company of them were rushing forward, probably expecting the mortar barrage to have cleared away any Earth troops in their path. They were going to be disappointed.

"Let 'em have it! Fire at will!" Garibaldi snarled and opened up with a burst of rifle fire from his own weapon. The Platoon followed his lead, gunning down a dozen of the closest assaulting Dilgar and forcing the rest to scatter.

The first blue bolts of return fire seared overhead, marking a small group of Dilgar soldiers gathering to coordinate their fire. Garibaldi quickly fished out a grenade and sent it overhead towards the small enemy group, enveloping them in a wave of deadly shrapnel.

Normally Garibaldi wouldn't have tried to fight a whole company with just a platoon, however this time he had some help. A collection of shattered girders leapt into the air taking several Dilgar with it as Sergeant Campbell entered the battle, the three remaining Scottish tanks slamming high explosive shells into areas of heavy cover before dousing the locations with their CPPGs, in unison with Red Platoons own weapons fire. It was over very quickly, with five surviving Dilgar raising their hands and throwing down their rifles.

"Connor, go cuff 'em." Garibaldi ordered. "First squad, keep up your scanning and watch for more hostiles!"

Corporal Connor rose from cover and advanced with his rifle at the ready. "Briggs, with me, Cooper, Gomez, keep us covered."

The four soldiers moved forward cautiously, anxious to avoid walking into trap. The five Dilgar were a miserable looking group, dirty and bedraggled with ripped uniforms and a number of injuries among them. They were nothing like the proud conquerors their Warmasters made them out to be.

"Put your hands up!" Connor gestured. "Keep 'em high and where we can see them!"

They just looked at him in confusion, glanced among themselves and continued to slowly and hesitantly to walk forward.

"Anyone know Dilgar for 'Hands up?'" Garibaldi asked.

"Sourash Taram." Dom responded.

Connor repeated the phrase and at once the prisoners lifted their arms.

The Sergeant looked over at Dom. "Where did that come from?"

"The Dilgar phrase book." Dom said. "We all got one at Fort Bragg, you guys didn't get yours?"

"No." Bugs chuckled harshly. "Why would we need one? Not like we were the first guys on a Dilgar planet!"

"Gotta love Earth Force logic." Garibaldi admitted. "Law to itself."

With no warning whatsoever the closest Dilgar prisoner vanished in a cracking explosion, throwing Garibaldi and Dom sideways to the ground and knocking the breath from them. Fortunately the Sergeant didn't need to give the order and the rest of the platoon, though shocked, opened fire on the revealed suicide bombers, bringing down three in quick succession, one of whom exploded harmlessly in a red and black mist. The last one however was fast, and despite two solid hits slid under the closest tank before clicking his suicide switch.

The tank raised itself four feet of the ground, an orange ball of flame flowing around its lower hull and blowing off the left hand track and two road wheels. The damaged vehicle flopped down onto the ruined ground and immediately started smoking. A second later the hatches popped open and the two crew fell out followed by thick black clouds of smoke from inside the vehicle along with the smell of burning circuits.

Garibaldi unsteadily got back to his feet, still shaking after the close blast. He looked around at the black smoke rising from the tank, at first squad still on overwatch and finally the platoon medics crouched and working in front of the tank. Then, almost the last think that clicked back into place was his hearing and the sound of screaming.

"Find me a damn pain killer!" Tucker shouted at one of the medics.

"Who is it?" Garibaldi slid to a stop by the scene.

"Connor." The Private answered. "He's still alive, the rest…"

He didn't need to finish. Not far away Gomez and Cooper were clearly dead and there was no sign of Briggs, just a smear on the ground and some tattered fabric.

"I've clotted the wounds and stabilised his system." The medic reported. "But he needs a surgeon, there's a lot of shrapnel in there."

"Unfold a stretcher and get him clear." Garibaldi ordered before leaning back on the tanks hull behind him, he glanced over at the two coughing crewmen. "You two okay?"

"Little over done on the underneath." The corporal who had commanded the tank shrugged. "But we'll live."

Better than some, Garibaldi thought. The tankers were in basic fatigues with no face protection, body armour and just their sidearms. Not much of a fighting force.

"You better head back, let your guys know where this tank is, I bet it's salvageable."

"We're ready to help out with you guys." The Corporal announced.

"Sorry guys, I don't think your equipped for this sort of job. Get a new tank, then you can get some payback."

He paused. "Actually, you can take Connor to the surgeon first, you good with this stretcher?"

"Aye, we can take it."

"It's a long way to the surgeon." Garibaldi mentioned.

"We'll walk him to the Moon if we had to." The Scots corporal said. "Your man will make it."

They took the stretcher from the medics and laid it beside the wounded Connor.

"Alright, lift on three, nice and gentle."

They carefully moved the injured man onto the stretcher, then equally carefully lifted it.

"Good luck guys." Garibaldi said. "Take this spare medical kit, just in case you need it."

"No problem Sarge, you just keep an eye on our boss for us and we'll call it even."

He glanced at Campbell's tank. "You got a deal, now get going before we run into more trouble."

He watched the two Scotsmen start walking away with the stretcher, then dropped down to sit on a low broken stonewall with a heavy sigh. He'd known Connor a long time and both of them had survived the destruction of the Persephone and the escape from Tirrith. It was hard to lose any comrades, but harder still when they were close friends.

"Crowbar to Alpha actual, reporting four casualties and another tank lost."

"Understood Sergeant." Franklin answered in sympathy. "But I need you to continue to advance."

"Sir, at this rate we'll be wiped out by midday. We could use some fresh troops, maybe some more armour too."

"Sorry Sergeant, Beta group is still the priority, their facing an elite Dilgar division." Franklin replied. "The way ahead of you has lighter defences, you should be able to lead the Company right to the objective."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi answered flatly.

"I'm putting blue platoon on point, fall back to the flank and let them lead for a while, give your people a short break."

"They'll appreciate it sir."

"We've still got a job to finish Sergeant, we'll count the cost later. Alpha Actual out."

Garibaldi rocked his head back, his helmet banging on the abandoned building behind him. It was his job to lead by example, to be the man the platoon could look to for strength and inspiration. He didn't feel much like being an inspiration, he had just had several close brushes with mortality and wasn't thrilled about having more.

He none the less gathered his strength, regulated his breath and with a last grunt stood up and hefted his rifle.

"Platoon, we're letting Blue take point, as soon as the go by take five minutes rest, then we're moving again."

There were a few sighs of relief, but the losses were still too close to get past yet. The Platoon was well trained but didn't have the hard and almost callous streak of a veteran unit. Death this close was still something hard to deal with, some of the unit had moved on, storing it away to deal with later, but others were still shaken and Garibaldi couldn't afford to have them distracted in a warzone.

"Our people are in the fight of their lives in the other assault, we're going forward to try and take some pressure off them." Garibali continued. "So get some rest while you can, we've still got a long day ahead."

He came to a stop next to their newest recruit.

"Dom?"

The young man was staring at the two dead bodies, respectfully covered with their own fold out tarpaulins. His expression was hidden by his helmet but his body was stiff and unmoving.

"Dom!" Garibaldi repeated much louder.

"Sarge?" he turned his head.

"Snap out of it boy, it's just blood."

"I thought, I thought they were giving up." Dom said.

"Yeah, we all did." Garibaldi agreed. "Not the first time murdering bastards have tried that one. We should have spotted it, should have had them open their jackets to check for bombs, but we didn't. Next time we won't bother."

"What?"

"We're just going to shoot them." Garibaldi said coldly. "New standing orders people, you see a Dilgar, you shoot to kill and don't stop until he's dead. If they are on the floor begging for help you kill them without hesitation, is everyone clear on that?"

The Platoon confirmed it, though without enthusiasm.

"No more losses like Connor." The Sergeant said. "Now if you've got chow take a minute to shovel it down, we move in four minutes."

He slapped Dom on the shoulder. "I'm good Sarge, I'm back with it."

"You'll see worse than that before we go home, find a way to deal." Garibaldi said. "I find shooting people really helps, just make sure they aren't on our side huh?"

"Yes Sarge."

"You're doing fine. Now get some food before something else goes wrong."

Red Platoon

Inner city circle

14:18 hours

Dom ran like hell across the open road from one ruined building to another, Dilgar bullets flicking stones and dust into the air around him while energy rounds sizzled past. He threw himself the last four yards and leapt into cover, landing hard and stumbling over some loose bricks. He fell flat on his face at Garibaldi's feet.

"What the hell was that?" The Sergeant hauled him up. "When I say 'stay put' I don't mean 'Run across open ground in front of a Dilgar machine gun!' Maybe I wasn't clear on that?"

"Sorry Sarge, I didn't want to be left out there alone."

The Sergeant relented. "Next time I'm going to shoot you to protect the gene pool, now pick a window and start shooting anything that moves."

Dom nodded and scuttled away deeper into the roofless building to join his colleagues, the constant chatter of guns and hiss of PPG fire dominating the world around the platoon, punctuated by frequent explosions as something somewhere went up in smoke.

Earth Force had fought its way to the central circle of the city and were almost within sight of their primary objective, the shrine and its underground command centre. However the fighting had grown much harder as the human troops pressed on into the final line of Dilgar defences and their most bitterly determined soldiers. So far Red Platoon had faced shell shocked regulars and fanatical but relatively dumb Stormtrooper units. Now though they were up against a Guards division, an elite among the Dilgar military and they were putting up a lot of resistance.

The central circle had also survived better than the outer rings, it had sturdier buildings and many were still standing, though in very poor condition. Red Platoon had commandeered such a building, its previous occupants having been evicted by a speed assault and some grenades. A handful of dead Dilgar still lay on the floor where they fell, the human platoon too busy to move them.

"I got something!" Bugs warned from a perch by an upper window. "They're bringing up a tank!"

Garibaldi swore. "Anyone got a missile left?"

There were a chorus of negative answers.

"Great, Scotty, where are you?"

"Crowbar, little busy here." The Scottish tank commander replied.

"We've got a Dilgar tank with your name on it, designating position now."

"Got it marked." He replied. "Bah, alright, I'm on my way, but I've got half a litter of kitties on my tail!"

"We'll clean 'em off for you." Garibaldi promised.

"Sarge, you better get down!" Bugs yelled.

"Take cover!" Harlow yelled in agreement and Garibaldi hit the floor at the same moment as a large section of the wall vanished in a supremely violent eruption of dust and stingingly sharp stones.

For the thousandth time that day Garibaldi swore viciously and dusted himself off. "Anyone hurt?"

"Just hungry!" Tucker yelled to a few nervous laughs.

"His aiming again, more to the left." Bugs called.

"Down again!" Garibaldi ordered as a second round pulverised the building, bringing down a large amount of masonry.

"Couple more hits like that and we'll need a new house." Harlow winced.

"And here I was planning to retire here." Bugs remarked. "It's spacious, airy, lively neighbourhood, even got some dead Dilgar rugs." He waited a heartbeat. "Incoming again!"

This time the explosion was followed by a long high pitched squeak, the tortured sound of a wheel bearing that had used up most of its oil. From through the smoke cloud Garibaldi spotted Campbell's Thor tank bouncing over the rubble and racing past the house. If the Scotsman was right he probably had a Dilgar anti tank team chasing him.

"First squad, watch the back, second squad as you were!"

Campbell decided this was probably what it felt like in a washing machine on its spin cycle as his tank launched itself up and over pile after pile of rubble. The well sprung seat took a lot of the force but he was going to need some serious stretching when this was done. Logically he should have slowed down, but a fast moving tank was harder to hit than a slow one, and in some ways the constant bouncing was probably a good thing, it would certainly throw off Dilgar gun teams.

"Nearly there!" His driver yelled over the banging of suspension and the squeal of the road wheels.

Campbell selected an armour piercing round and the computer quickly selected the closest round, dropped it into the breach and then mixed a full charge of propellant for maximum kick. The targeting computer than turned to aim at the location Garibaldi had designated and transmitted to the tank. With the interlinked nature of Earth's forces Campbell didn't even need to see the target, Red Platoon had given him all he needed.

He didn't stop the tank, or even slow down. It jumped over a drainage ditch, landed heavily and as the suspension sprung back up the computer timed the perfect moment for the shot and took it automatically while Campbell disappeared back into cover and steered a looping path to bring his pursuers past Garibaldi.

The Sabot round itself flew in an instant through a Dilgar occupied building taking two unlucky guardsmen out in the process, through seven feet of stone rubble before then punching straight through the Dilgar armoured vehicle end to end and finally burying itself in a hill. The Dilgar tanks were multi role vehicles designed to fulfil a number of roles from fire support and engaging enemy armour to troop transport and scouting. They worked great against League forces with similar vehicles but against a pure Earth Force battle tank built solely to kill armoured vehicles and soak up damage itself, the Dilgar tanks were woefully outclassed. It exploded in a sheet of flame without ever knowing it was in danger.

As Campbell predicted a small group of four Dilgar, two of who were armed with missile launchers darted from cover chasing the wildly bobbing human tank. Garibaldi let them get closer, almost until they had drawn level with him, then gave the order to fire.

The well placed PPG shots brought down the four Dilgar in a couple of seconds, the well trained soldiers with Garibaldi more than capable of hitting their enemies effectively at such close range.

"Scotty, taken care of that feline pest control." Garibaldi grinned.

"I owe you crowbar."

"Well I could use a favour, Dilgar machine gun team and I'd guess platoon strength support, large building a hundred a fifty yards from my location. We can't go anywhere with it pinning us."

"No problem, I was saving my last incendiary round for a special occasion, this will do."

"Marking target now." Garibaldi informed, using his rifle scope to designate the building and transmit the information to the tanks battle computer. "Light 'em up for me."

"Make sure you're in cover, these shells aren't meant for such close range." Campbell warned. "Wouldn't want you losing hair."

The Tank reappeared from behind cover and skidded to a stop alongside Garibaldi's position, drawing ineffective fire from the Dilgar building. With a clank Garibaldi could hear from several feet away the shell was loaded and primed with a relatively small charge, it didn't need to fly far or fast unlike a sabot round so the computer used a quarter of the liquid propellant it would have for an armour piercing shot.

The discharge was still quite terrific though, a brief flash of red and blue flame jetted from the gun as the tube recoiled on its magnetic and hydraulic rails. The suspension shook slightly and a small shower of dust puffed up and down from crevices in the vehicle's hull.

The effects of the shell on the Dilgar position however were quite different, the shell punched through the ground floor and exploded close to the machine gun. The mixture of exotic chemicals instantly caught light in a chemically charged inferno that shot clouds of white flame through the whole building and filling every window. The flames lasted just a few seconds but it was enough to incinerate the defenders and literally melt their weapons into grey and silver nuggets of metal on the floor.

Garibaldi and the rest of the Platoon poked their heads out of cover to look at the sight.

"Whoah." Bugs managed. "Those are new."

"Freshly designed for this war, Mark 77 incendiary rounds." Garibaldi stood up, thick black clouds pouring from the wrecked buildings. "Good way of flushing out vermin. Now get your stuff, we're almost at the objective and I want to get there before 4th Infantry does." He straightened his helmet and vaulted over a ruined wall. "Damned if those grunts will beat us to the centre, I bet fifty credits on you guys, and if I lose I'll have exercising until you die from it."

Once again Red Platoon picked themselves up and moved forward, and all around them the sky roared in anger while the ground burned.

Dilgar Guards HQ

14:31 hours

Kem'shan was so used to the tug or air from nearby artillery hits he didn't even flinch anymore, just leaned a little into the wind to keep his balance and ignored the pelting of stones and hissing metal fragments. The artillery was as constant as rain, the only variation was between rockets and the more common shells. Recently though he thought he'd noticed mortars too indicating how close the humans now were.

"They've penetrated all our defences, right to the inner lines." Ba'sai reported, the deputy was hardly recognizable with his uniform tattered and his right side covered in blood. "Some elements are less than two hundred metres away, barely two city blocks."

Kem'shan's forces had been ground to paste from above, then simply rolled up by the massive firepower and skilful training of the human soldiers. Against Drazi he could have held this city for months, even the excellent Brakiri troops would have bled themselves dry and retreated. But not it appeared the humans.

"Estimated forces?"

"On our side, less than seven hundred guards, maybe a handful of regulars. That's all."

"And the humans?"

"By our estimates, upwards of five divisions." Ba'sai coughed slightly before continuing in resignation. "I doubt we killed more than a few thousand, we just couldn't co-ordinate a defence in time, that barrage broke us apart."

"It was more than the barrage." He paused as a pair of shells drowned out his words. "It was everything, their planes, tanks, artillery, troops. Perfect co-ordination down to the fraction of a second. I can think of maybe two Division in our army that could have pulled off an assault so perfectly, these humans have what, ten, twelve?"

"Twelve on planet sir."

Kem'shan laughed bitterly. "How do you stop that Ba'sai?"

"I suppose we can't sir."

"Well we have nowhere to run to, all units will fight now to their last breath, general staff included."

"Understood sir."

"Find a rifle, you have served well Ba'sai." Kem'shan saluted his aide. "Go carve a place in history for yourself."

"It has been a privilege Warleader." Ba'sai saluted in return, then headed away, picking up a rifle from a nearby body and walking towards the sound of the guns.

The command post emptied as the analysts, staff officers and commtechs filed out, Kem'shan saluting each one in turn and wishing them luck and glory in battle, it was all he could now do. He had misjudged the Earth forces, expecting them to fight as well as his own warriors could perform, to Kem'shan that had been a high praise as he considered his guardsmen the best soldiers in the galaxy. Ultimately though the human army had proven to be much better with a level of control and training he found himself insanely jealous of.

He stood in the now empty command post and looked up through the missing roof to the sky above just in time to see a pair of human jets fly over, seconds later he felt an intense heat and a rush of cold air as they dropped something among his troops, a chemical smelling incendiary concoction. He kicked himself for not reminding the Warcouncil how incredibly useful fire based weapons were, a lesson the humans clearly understood both in terms of physical damage and the affects on morale. Kem'shan's troops however weren't going to break, they had their backs to the wall and fought well, but the humans just didn't give them targets. They didn't fight man to man, but overwhelmed the Dilgar. Where Kem'shan had one man Earth sent a platoon, where he had a platoon Earth sent a tank, where he had a tank Earth sent a gunship. He just could not top whatever card Earth played and for all the bravery and determination of his troops they didn't have the quality of human equipment, the sureness of command, or the simple wealth of training.

Kem'shan stood in silence a few moments longer, before allowing a brief burst of laughter and a shake of the head. He had fought and lost, and that was the end. The second son of the Supreme Warmaster was trapped like a rat in a hole with no way out and no chance of victory. Not the career event he had planned when landing here.

He could surrender and live as a human prisoner, he was important enough to be treated well, likely a political more than military prisoner. He could live his life and maybe even go home one day, and that thought truly appealed to him. But to do so when a hundred thousand men, the men he had led and taken responsibility for, lay dead on this far alien world on the far side of known space, that just went against everything he knew and believed.

Whatever he was and whatever he wanted paled compared to that responsibility. For better or worse he had led these soldiers to their deaths, their blood rested on his hands and while he had done all he knew how to do in order to hold this city, he had failed. Failure was sometimes expected, it was accepting responsibility for that failure which truly defined character.

He took off his helmet and mask and drew a long breath of unfiltered air. It was thick with smoke and ask, the stink of explosives on incendiary chemicals. Soldiers screamed in pain and challenged their enemies with battle cries. He could hear orders shouted in his own language, warnings mostly. Energy weapons crackled and hissed, slug throwers tore the thick air and always there was the artillery, as pinpoint and precise as always. There was no shame in this defeat, they had fought hard against a superior foe. He could go to his end with a clear conscience that his duties as a Dilgar soldier were fulfilled.

He placed his helmet on the desk with his maps, rulers and pencils, he didn't need any of them any more. He drew his sidearm, as ornate and deadly as any used by Dilgar 'War' grade officers and one of six such weapons, the only ones in existence. Gar'shan had one, as did his three sons along with Jha'dur and her brother. Pure works of the soldiers craft.

He checked it was loaded, then walked slowly and fearlessly to his main command bunker to await Nemesis.

Red Platoon.

14:35 hours

With a roar of unrestrained anger Garibaldi jammed the stock of his rifle into the Dilgar soldiers stomach, doubling the dark uniformed man over. Quickly reversing the weapon in a sharp upper cut he swung it up Into his enemies face before swinging the PPG around his head and down like a pick axe, collapsing the Dilgar to the floor.

He was breathing hard, his suits air supply increasing automatically to feed his lungs in this heightened state. With a final twist he gripped his rifle and fired twice into the prone Dilgar making damn sure he didn't get back up. The PPG was a small weapon designed mainly for Marines and Airborne troops who would be crammed in ships and drop pods. It looked fragile but was in fact made of extremely tough material, it had to be to channel the plasma bolts it fired. As a result, though unimpressive to look at it really packed a whallop with some force behind it and was almost impossible to break.

A rapid burst of fletchettes whistled past him, one of them nicking his helmet before instinct dropped him down and made him fire in the rough direction of the shot, a blaze of bright red plasma slamming into the wall with a sizzle and shimmer of distorted air. The offending Dilgar had darted away but was soon zeroed by Bugs and Harlow, the two nearby troopers intercepting the Dilgar as he ran.

The Platoon had charged into the main fight, crossing the last line of Dilgar defences and engaging the best the enemy had to offer. The Guardsmen weren't giving up and had clearly decided to fight to the death, which suited Garibaldi just fine. In the ruins it had turned into a knife fight, almost point blank shooting matches were breaking out everywhere as the human troops tightened the noose and assaulted the last few hundred yards.

"Harlow, go left, deal with that building!" Garibaldi yelled gesturing at a shattered trio of walls. "First section, with me! Go!"

With no further word the unit slipped into its roles, the same jobs they'd trained for over months and longer. Garibaldi led three of his people forward, leaping over rubble at a low run while four other soldiers laid down suppressive fire on his target, one of the many faceless gutted buildings around the centre. Two blue energy bolts sang past, scattering in a small fountain of expended energe between Garibaldi's footsteps. He was so intense, so full of adrenalin he didn't notice. The window the shots came from was struck by a pair of red plasma bolts forcing the firer back into the building.

Garibaldi's group slammed into the wall, flattening themselves against it to avoid the storm of gunfire seemingly coming from all direction.

"Grenades!" he shouted, yanking a small device from his harness. With the rest of his team close behind he leaned out and tossed the explosive through the window before crouching close to the base of the wall. He heard the dull explosions and was up and moving before the initial screams had subsided, bursting through the doorway in a hail of plasma fire, side stepping and spraying on full auto while his colleagues did the same thing.

"Clear!" Tucker announced.

"Bugs, Dom, far window!" Garibaldi pointed. "Tucker, left window. Harlow, come in?"

"Clear here Crowbar." The female Corporal said. Of all the unit's NCO's Harlow was most likely to make Sergeant Major, she was attractive to look at but as lithe and tough as any of her male counterparts. Garibaldi had once actually lost an arm wrestling contest with her, something he had yet to live down.

"We're not stopping, get ready to cover us to the next building."

They had been leapfrogging like this all day, one squad covering, one advancing. Half providing suppressive fire, half assaulting. It was tried, tested and it worked. Fortunately the platoon hadn't lost anyone else, but their four casualties had put quite a dent in their effectiveness, not to mention giving them a good helping of cold fury.

"Sarge." Dom cut in. "Look at this stuff."

Garibaldi turned to take in a more detailed look at the room they had stormed. In addition to six Dilgar bodies he noted some shattered radios and a table covered with maps.

"Some sort of command post." Bugs guessed from his position.

"Touch nothing, might be booby trapped." Garibaldi ordered. "We'll leave it for the intel guys."

The Sergeant moved to the front of the building and took a look at their next target.

"Lot of open space Crowbar." Bugs said cautiously. "That's got to be our main target."

Sure enough it looked like they were close to the shrine at the city centre, its tall stone spire miraculously untouched by the intense fighting all around.

"We can't run all that way." Garibaldi looked back and forth.

"That a trench?" Dom pointed. "About half way across."

"Yeah, thanks Dom." Bugs quipped "Now we actually have to go!"

"Damn straight we're going." Garibaldi snarled as he pushed a freshly charged power cap into his rifle. "We're gonna take that command post and then point and laugh when the Rangers get here. You with me?"

"Laughing at Rangers? Sure sounds like fun." Tucker chuckled. "Left flank clear."

"Right flank clear." Bugs confirmed.

"Harlow?" The Sergeant checked.

"We've got a good field of fire, in covering position."

"Okay, death or glory time." He braced against the rubble, straining his legs for the sprint. Something told him this was not a good idea, but that same part said that about everything.

"Go! Go! Go!"

If the buildings were bad open ground was worse. There was nothing to protect them from the blast of exploding ordinance or the stray shots which whizzed past with disturbing frequency. Earth showered from above, red and blue tracer fire crissed and crossed around them and every sound he heard was thunder mixing with the roar of blood rushing through his ears. He stumbled and almost fell but through luck more than anything else recovered and kept going. It wasn't until he was halfway across he suddenly considered the Trench might actually still be occupied.

But it was too late to turn back, he rushed on, said a brief prayer for luck and jumped into the end of the trench and ran forward to clear space for the rest of the squad. Fortunately it was indeed empty, it Dilgar occupants presumably moved to the front lines to try and stem the Earth Force tide.

The squad weaved through the earthworks keeping below the Parapet until they came to the section closest to the Shrine, still a good hundred yards distant.

"Hold here." He ordered. "I'll take a look."

He carefully lifted his rifle over the parapet, using its linked scope to see what defences were visible around the shrine. The image fed through to his helmet displays, an unappealing mix of two bunkers and a number of loopholes punched in the ancient walls of the religious building.

"Crap." He swore. "No way we're taking that place without help."

"What about Scotty?" Bugs asked. "Where is he?"

"Three blocks away." Tucker answered. "How about some love from above?"

Garibaldi chuckled meanly. "Dammit Tucker I like your style. Crowbar to Alpha Actual."

It took a few moments for an answer to filter through from Captain Franklin.

"Garibaldi, where are you? Dilgar jamming is playing havoc with our locators."

"I'm right outside the objective, but I'm going to need some major ordnance to break through, our tank support is tied up with White Platoon clearing a former office."

"You're thinking gunship?"

"Yes sir, once we've made a hole well run through and beat those damn Ranger jocks to the prize."

"Roger that Crowbar, deignate your target and I'll rustle something up."

Garibaldi nodded to his squad. "Okay, Captain's trying to get some help. Harlow, still there?"

"Hear and clear Sarge." Came the reply.

"Standby to move forward, take this trench and then be ready to close on the shrine."

"We're good to go."

A low rumbling alerted Garibaldi to the new arrivals, not the stacatto bangs of artillery but a much deeper grumble getting progressively louder.

"Red platoon, this is Duster lead, heard you needed a doorway."

"That is confirmed Duster, we've marked you a big fat target, we need a crack and burn."

"Just my speciality, got your location and the target pegged, stay low and say Hello to kitty for me."

The roar of the approaching Valkyrie grew impossibly load as the VTOL gunship approached ever closer, travelling with virtual impunity now the Dilgar defences were crumbling in all locations. The green and grey craft skimmed up and over the buildings and lined itself up on the Shrine, a few stray energy and solid rounds simply bouncing off the armour.

"Get flat people, this is gonna suck but by hell it'll suck worse for the Dilgar." Garibaldi ordered, himself lying on the ground. "Bugs, get some smoke ready."

The gunship came to a hover almost above them, side slipping a little before rapidly loosing four missiles, the noise was simply teeth shattering between the engines and the screeching missiles. The actual explosions seemed tame in comparison. Garibaldi was treated to the sight of several tons of almost intact bunker sailing overhead and hitting somewhere in the open distance.

But the gunship was not done, having now cracked open the structure with missiles it went on to the second part, the burn. The Valkyrie opened fire with its cyclone pulse cannons, a tremendous stream of blue plasma that would turn even the latest tanks to molten slag. This was worse than the missiles, the heat was astonishing and Garibaldi could actually see the material on his arms starting to smoke.

Anything that had survived the missiles did not survive the plasma, splashing almost like a liquid it seeped through loopholes and simply vaporised anything not made of stone. The Cyclone pulse cannons had been trialed for the Starfury but were simply too much for the space fighter, the fleet preferred the weaker but better ranged unipulse cannons currently installed. For the army though the Cyclone was too good to pass up.

The brief assault ended as the gunship pulled away in a roar and wash of jet exhaust, allowing Garibaldi to stand again.

"Bugs, smoke!"

It was almost certain he didn't have to, nothing was going to have survived the Valkyrie strike, but Garibaldi wasn't about to bet his life on it. Bugs threw the grenade which formed an instant cloud of white smoke, not merely particulates and vapour but also tiny sensor scattering ceramics and thermal reflectors to fully obscure anything the Dilgar could use to seek out the Earth troops.

"Into action guys!" Garibaldi yelled and was first over the top, charging head long at the shrine and hopefully a huge hole in the side made by the gunship. "Harlow, make your move!"

As first squad went for the building second squad dropped into the trench and set up a firing position to watch their backs and if necessary cover a retreat. Garibaldi and his colleagues took the distance as fast as they could, their bodies aching and complaining but still complying with the demands placed on them. They vanished into the smoke, a few moments of slight confusion and uncertainty overtook them, and then finally they emerged from the ghostly white cloud and felt hard stone beneath their boots.

Quickly and quietly they secured the area, fanning out and making sure there were no survivors, Naturally there was nothing, just a large room with fully half of it blackened by plasma, the far side was smouldering and burning slightly, but the heat had been so intense within the breached wall there was nothing left that would burn.

"Okay Harlow, bring up the rear."

First squad maintained their guard posture and covered Harlow as she brought her team into the building, then relaxed slightly.

"Okay Corporal, take position here and watch that hole, no one gets in here with pointy ears."

"Got it Sarge."

"First squad with me, we're going under ground."

The wide open vaulted chamber was empty, but intelligence had said the main Dilgar control facility was in the crypt below the shrine, and that the Markab saint buried there had been evicted, his bones piled out with the rubbish. The entrance was in the middle of the room, an simple wooden trap door flush with the floor.

"Wanna bet its booby trapped?" Bugs suggested.

"Probably." Garibaldi said and raised his rifle. "We don't need to actually open it to get in."

He fired a long burst of plasma fire, turning the ancient wood to burning cinders in a couple of seconds. There were no secondary explosions indicating it wasn't rigged after all. It was however now open.

"Tucker, recon drone?"

"One left." The soldier produced a tiny wheeled vehicle like a toy from his pocket. Carefully he placed it on the edge of the steps down and set it going. It teetered on the edge, than comically bounced down each step until reaching the bottom.

"Connecting now."

In a small square box held in the holographic helmet display Garibaldi and the rest of first squad saw the image from the drones photo receptors.

"Move forward." Garibaldi said. Below the voice operated drone did as it was told, moving deeper into the crypt.

"Computers." Tucker noted. "Probably comms gear too, can't see any people."

"Not a big place, nowhere much to hide." Ugs also observed. "Motion sensors show nothing, looks clear."

"Alright, lets go." Garibaldi switched off the feed. "And remember, touch nothing!"

Garibaldi led the way, with Dom, Bugs and Tucker following with due care and attention. The crypt was quite small but well lit and with a very strong ceiling, enough to take a thousand regular artillery shells and probably an average bunker buster.

"Damn, Markab built this place well." Tucker noted. "Must have respected whoever they buried here."

"Or wanted to keep him buried deep so he'd never escape from death." Bugs considered. "Like Dracula."

"You two, shut the hell up!" Garibaldi snapped. "Eyes on the damn game!"

He made it to the bottom of the steps and advanced slowly, Dom fanning out left and Bugs right with Tucker watching behind. There was a hum of cooling fans from the computers, a slight flickering from their screens displaying images overlaid with alien text Garibaldi had no clue about. It looked like a solid command post and no doubt the intel guys would love to see it.

"Why didn't the Dilgar blow this stuff up?" Dom asked as he inched forward parallel to the Sergeant."

"Lack of time?" Garibaldi shrugged. "Maybe they didn't expect to be beaten so never rigged it."

"That sounds right to me." Tucker agreed. "Arrogant bunch of bastards."

"Yeah, not after today they won't be." Bugs leaned over a table, finding it clear. "We gave them a real kicking."

"Sure as hell did." Tucker grinned manically.

"Course we probably really pissed off the rest of them." Garibaldi reminded. "And they still have a crapload of ships."

"Just make it harder for the Navy to miss." Bugs laughed. "I think we're done here."

Dom was about to agree, checking out the last corner, when he very suddenly came face to face with a Dilgar.

For an eternal heartbeat he froze, he just stood there looking straight into the eyes of the alien thinking exactly how much like cat eyes they really were, almost identical to his parents pet back home. Though he was wearing his visor down he could see the aliens face as clear as if he was using his own two eyes, to say it took him by surprise was an understatement.

The alien seemed to remain motionless for that same moment, not looking surprised or angry, just slightly pleased. He gave a slight bow to Dom, which made no sense to the young soldier, then finally reached for his side arm. The paratrooper was of course much faster with his rifle at the ready and in a split second Dom had put five rounds into the Dilgar soldiers chest without even thinking about it, just pure instinct and linked training.

A second later Garibaldi was on his shoulder with Bugs and Tucker knelt behind him with their own rifles at their shoulders looking for more surprises.

"He, he was just there." Dom managed. "Just stood there looking at me."

"Those damn drones aren't worth the plastic they're stamped from." Tucker spat. "Couldn't find beer in a brewery."

Garibaldi examined the body. "Holy… look at this guy, look at the markings on his uniform."

Bugs and Tucker looked over, satisfied they were now actually alone. "Damn, that's a lot of gold."

"Son of a bitch!" Garibaldi laughed. "Way to go Dom, you bagged a General!"

"What?" the young man exclaimed in uncertainty.

"First time you actually shoot someone, and it's a flaming General!" Tucker slapped his back. "That's a good one, yeah, I like that."

Dom looked down at the body, still with that odd pleased look on its face. He had actually gone and shot someone, a living being, and didn't feel in the least bit upset. Somewhere he registered that as wrong, but he was so tired and so glad to be alive he officially didn't care.

"Check out his gun." Bugs pointed. "Bet that's worth something."

Garibaldi bent down and picked up the ornate device, flexing it in his hands. "Nice, very well balanced, bet that's real gold too."

"We're not giving that to the intel guys are we?" Tucker grimaced.

"I think they'll have enough fun with all this." Garibaldi gestured around. "This," he raised the weapon, "is yours."

He handed it to Dom, who gingerly took it. "Really?"

"Well you did more to earn it than we did, a souvenir of the day you met a General and did the thing we all most want to do to someone like him."

That drew a few laughs.

"Come on, let's head back up and say hello to the Rangers." Garibaldi grinned. "And hide that piece somewhere."

The four humans headed back up to the surface, and behind them Kem'shan lay in the knowledge that he had not dishonoured himself and had fallen to a worthy enemy.

His division shared the same final sentiment.


	64. Chapter 64

61

63

Markab Home System

05:40 hours

7th January 2232

While the battle for Markab was now little more than a memory the reminders of the bloodshed still hung cold and lifeless in space around the saved world. A mix of Dilgar and Markab vessels were scattered in orbit around the world and stretching in clumps of twisted metal away from the main scene of fighting to mark the ebb and flow of the combat. The thickest concentration was close to the world itself where Grand Master Valna had led the last of his warriors in desperate battle to save his world from the Deathwalker. The other larger assembly of wrecks was where Earth Force had run over the Dilgar rearguard with little trouble.

The other reminder of the action was the loose wall of grey warships holding station a few hundred thousand miles above Markab, the ships and crews of the Earth Expeditionary Force. In the days since the initial battle the fleet had doubled in size with the arrival of reinforcements from Altair and replacement fighters for the craft lost in action. Human losses had been thankfully light with just a few dozen fighters and slight damage to a pair of warships compared to hundreds of Dilgar losses in fighters and fifty warships. However they too had escaped lightly fleeing with most of their force and Deathwalker herself still intact.

The real victims of the campaign had of course been the Markab whose frenzied assaults had cost them most of their fleet. It was a tough situation for them and if not for the arrival of Earth Force they would surely have fallen with immense loss of life. It was something Valna, now senior Markab military leader, had recognized and respected.

It had been a brief but inspiring initial fight, with Earth driving away their vicious enemies with minimal casualties, a huge morale boost for the fleet which was still adjusting to its role as a grand offensive force. Back on Earth the victory was already being celebrated with gushing talk of medals for all and the war ending soon. The Joint Chiefs of course knew better, the war was only just beginning and they hadn't faced the Dilgar fleet for real yet, just a vanguard. The next few days and hours would be critical.

"Well cool." Jors remarked in a tone which did not betray any awe or surprise. "Earth Fleet ahead."

"Now that's a view." Toby agreed as he too stared out of the front windows. "Gotta be hundreds out there."

"About a thousand." Jenny corrected. "And that's only half the fleet."

"Well they took it seriously." Paul Calendar shrugged. "At least that bit of tax I sometimes pay is being used properly for a change."

The small freighter named Space Race passed gently by the silent behemoths looking distinctly small and powerless. While the little ship was not to be underestimated, crammed full of advanced sensors and the latest defensive weaponry it was still no more than an irritation compared to these real warships, though for Captain Calendar that air of harmlessness had served them well on many occasions.

"Belt Alliance group, welcome to Markab." A human voice greeted from one of the naval vessels. "Your contract has been signed and fees deposited, you should find everything in order."

The Race had arrived in system as part of a convoy from the Belt Alliance, using them and their contract as cover to make a special delivery to the Earth Force fleet. Around them much larger BA tug vessels and haulers began to filter slowly past making for the debris patches and the shattered remnants of Dilgar vessels and fighters.

"Confirmed Earth Force, we're starting recovery." The Belter leader replied. "We'll haul the likeliest looking wrecks home and let you guys take a look at them."

"The Admiral has detailed a pair of Corvettes to escort you if needed."

"Appreciated." Came the answer. "We'll be slow and vulnerable dragging these carcasses to Altair, little cover would be nice."

Paul watched the ugly ships fly past, even by human standards they were squat and unlovely comprising of large engines, long tow cables and little else. The Navy had a few recovery ships but nothing as powerful or efficient as the Belt Alliance haulers so had contracted out in order to recover some Dilgar ships for study. Thanks to the EIA and data from the League Ambassadors Earth had a fairly accurate picture of how Dilgar ships worked and their limits, but there was no substitute for getting a first hand look inside an enemy vessel.

"We'll follow them around for a while and look busy." Paul said. "Then you can sneak away on the shuttle and do your spy thing."

"My 'Spy Thing' huh?" Jenny chuckled. "Technically it would be 'our' spy thing, you're in this neck deep too now."

Paul sighed. "This is what happens when a man wishes for adventure." He shook his head. "I should have kept to hauling bed springs."

"You love it and you know it." Jenny said back. "You are making a difference, and it happens to be the right and moral thing to do too. Bonus points for that."

"Oh, and I'm getting paid an obscene amount of cash for this." Paul reminded. "Never forget the money."

Truthfully Paul had another motive for running these little missions, one he would never admit to the crew. He did it because Jenny asked him to, and heaven help him he couldn't actually say no to her. It was not a good situation to be in as Captain of a commercial freighter, but as a single and now rather wealthy man he couldn't wish for better company. The task ahead was how to make that lovely company a permanent fixture in his life.

"Well when you write your memoirs everyone will know what a hero you are." Jenny grinned. "Well, everyone in 2530 when we finally declassify our secret missions in this little war."

"I know that pain." Toby emphasised. "Here I am in a job that would make any woman swoon, and I have to pretend to be a common freight hauler."

"Toby, you are a common freight hauler." Paul chuckled. "Just rich. In fact why are you still here? You could have retired by now?"

"Well you know," he huffed. "I'm greedy and stupid."

He was also loyal to his Captain and ship, and as long as Paul kept flying so too would Toby and Jors, despite it often being against their better judgement. As Jenny had mentioned they were doing good and it did mean something to them, but mostly they were a crew and where one went so too did the others.

The Race coasted quietly and unnoticed amid the human vessels and tried to look inconspicuous. The little vessel hadn't been cleaned since its refit giving it by now a grimy exterior pitted with scuffed paint and a few old weapon blast marks. It was a form of camouflage but also a mark of honour like a campaign crest or row of medals. The little ship had seen a lot of action in its day, more than many warships, and those scars were borne proudly by the crew even though only a handful of people in the galaxy knew the real significance behind the carbonising of the hull and dents in the panelling.

The true reason behind the Race's presence so close to the Dilgar warfleets again was a simple delivery mission, something the crew naturally excelled at. The cargo was a two item run from Earth all the way out to the fleet, a personal request from Admiral Hamato to the EIA for a couple of useful tools to give him a tactical advantage. The items were named Francis O'Leary and his personal code decipherer. The young agent was currently gathering his possessions in the rest area beneath and behind the flight deck and preparing to depart for the flagship to offer some real time analysis during the expected battle.

"Well I guess now is the time." Jenny concluded. "I'll pack my stuff."

"Okay then." Paul nodded. "I'll come give you hand, Jors, you know the routine. Don't draw any attention."

"Yeah, yeah. Just fly casual." The pilot shook his head.

The fairly well appointed rest area had some surprisingly comfortable furniture and like many zero gravity passenger ships had the walls and ceiling covered in soft pads and furnishings to take advantage of the extra space. Without gravity the human liners were never going to match the legendary Centauri cruise ships for pure opulence but could still make life easy for the short time passengers stayed aboard, and by Earth standards the Race had first class fittings.

"I'm still amazed by this décor." Jenny laughed as she and Paul entered the area. "You have the taste of a gay man."

"In furniture!" Paul hastily clarified. "Only in furniture! My other preferences are much more old fashioned."

"It was a compliment." The spy grinned at his slight discomfort. "I mean the colour co-ordination, the style, I'm just shocked you picked this. I remember when this was a steel can with four chairs and a reheater."

"Benefits of having a mountain of cash." Paul smiled. "We can't always be dodging death with you guys, sometimes we just have to shift rich businessmen between planets fast. Earn an honest living."

"An honest living? Bet that's boring."

Paul laughed in agreement. "You have no idea."

At the back of the room Francis floated a little awkwardly as he stuffed the last of his shirts from the locker into a fabric bag, swelling out its formless shape. Beside the bag was a black box the size of a standard palm computer with a long carry strap currently joining its owner in floating lazily near the back wall.

"Hey Francis, ready?" Jenny called.

He turned to look over at her, spinning gracelessly as he twisted his arms and legs to counter the motion. "Just packed." He managed to say as he moved on all axis' like a tumbling Starfury in a grey suit.

"I'm going to go prep the shuttle." She held back a giggle at his predicament. "Paul will help you get your stuff to the bay. Take your time."

With a twinkling smile she spun and propelled herself away with a grace and poise even Paul was envious of. After almost a lifetime working on freighters and living without gravity he still hadn't mastered the precision Jenny displayed in moving, she was just a natural. She left Francis and Paul together I the room, bringing an awkward silence as the two men lingered on for a while watching the agent head away. While neither was entirely aware of it they were united in their opinions of the slender woman.

"So I hear…"

"I understand…"

They both blurted out a conversation attempt at the same time and both cut off at the same time returning to some slight discomfort.

"Go on." Francis offered. "What were you saying?"

"Well, just that Jenny tells me you're our expert on Dilgar. Earth's expert I mean."

"One of them." Francis nodded. "The other big expert doesn't like to travel." He referred to Morgan Clark. "So I guess I was the only one they could send."

"Ever met one?" Paul asked. "A Dilgar I mean?"

Francis shuddered slightly at the memory that dredged up. "I've had a couple of close encounters."

"Not the guys you take to a party." Paul agreed grimly. "Had a few run ins myself, course they usually came off worse."

Francis nodded as the conversation died down again.

"So." Paul piped up again. "How do you know Jenny?"

"Know her?"

"Yeah, but not in the biblical sense, right?"

"Just friends." Francis informed. "She recruited me into the, err, job."

"I know the score." Paul grinned. "Secrecy and stuff."

"Jenny mentioned you had some adventures." Francis smiled. "Hell of a story if you could tell people without needing to kill them after."

"Adventure is one word to describe it." Paul nodded. "Insanity might be the one most people go with."

"But it was worth it." Francis affirmed sincerely. "The data from those missions was vital in setting up tactics to fight their ships, help prepare the navy for what's coming."

"Dilgar on their way then?"

"In force." Francis confirmed. "Honestly, I'd get out of this system fast. Few hours from now it's going to be a nightmare."

"Thanks for the tip." The Captain nodded. "SO you and Jenny, just friends?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just asking." Paul said slightly defensively. "No harm in asking, just a question."

"Sure, no harm." Francis hid a smile.

"Well good, alright then, that's settled." Paul huffed slightly. "You packed?"

"Yeah, good to go."

"Right then, lets get down to the shuttle deck."

Paul led the way with Francis following as best he could, he wasn't a stranger to space travel but this marked only his fifth trip on a ship and he was still trying to get used to it. He was dreading the stint on a warship that lay ahead of him.

"Just light taps." Paul advised. "Treat it more like swimming than walking."

"This gets tiring after a while."

"Well I knew a Captain who had a fan, like a desk fan, and he used it like propeller to get about his ship." Paul grinned. "Looked funny as hell, especially when he came to a corner and could never turn in time."

"Maybe I'll give that a miss."

"Still makes me laugh thinking about that now." Paul chuckled. "Best thing is practice, when you're on a ship for a few weeks you get a routine. The other people laughing at you helps with motivation."

They arrived at the shuttle bay, the wide interior holding two shuttles. One was Paul's atmospheric cargo shuttle, a downrated version of the assault shuttles Garibaldi and his division had used a few days early to land on Tiree. The other was a standard plain Earth Force personnel shuttle, blocky and limited to just space travel for cost savings.

Jenny waved from the window of the military shuttle and gestured for Francis to get on board.

"Well, great riding with you." He said in parting. "That was a really comfortable trip."

"Be careful out there kid." Paul advised. "Sure you got a fleet around you, but they are sneaky little bastards, don't take chances."

"I won't." The young agent confirmed. "And I've got Jenny watching my back."

"Then you can't go wrong." Paul stated. "Whatever it is exactly you do, just make sure it hurts the Dilgar. A lot."

"I promise." Francis smiled meanly. "It's open war now, we can hit them hard, and we're gonna."

"Alright then, glad to hear it. Now get off my ship, I've got places to be." Paul shooed the agent away. "If a big fleet is on it's way I want to be somewhere else for a change, your turn to keep them busy."

"Great."

"Oh, and if anything happens to Jenny, I'll hunt you down. Just on principle." Paul agreed. "Then I'd have to join the navy or something to avenge her, and I hate rules and uniforms, so best just to keep her safe. Deal?"

"Deal." Francis laughed. "Hope to see you again Captain Calendar."

"To any friend of Jenny, its just Paul." He waved him off. "Good look kid, and I will be seeing both of you again."

He stepped out and sealed the inner doors while Francis scrambled up into the shuttle with his bag and computer.

"Come sit up here." Jenny suggested. "Better view from the co-pilot seat."

"I don't have to press anything, right?" He asked with slight nerves.

"No." Jenny laughed. "I'll do the flying, but I thought you might like a look at the fleet as we make our way to the flagship. Biggest gathering of Earth ships in history, there's more guns and tonnage deployed here than every naval vessel in human history combined, and that's a lot."

The shuttle whined as the engines powered up, and with a gentle nudge of the thrusters she lifted off and waited in the centre of the bay.

"Paul, ready to go here."

"If you gotta." The Captain said from his freshly occupied seat on the flight deck. "Doors opening now, safe trip Jenny."

"Oh we're going to have a great time." She replied. "I'll take some photos, maybe home video. Wish you were here."

"I would come with you, but I'm pretty sure wherever I stood would be the place the Dilgar would shoot at first, so I'll bail and give you all a fair chance."

"Well I'll miss your company." Jenny regretted. "See you soon."

"You bet you will. Good luck, and I still owe you a proper dinner."

The doors opened up and allowed the shuttle to nose its way out into open space and move away, passing by the flight deck of the Race close enough for Jenny to wave farewell before jetting off towards their destination.

"What did you think to them then?" Jenny asked in conversation.

"Very likeable bunch, I see why you get on with them." Francis replied. "Must be fun hanging out with the three of them."

"Yeah, if everytime we met we didn't have to risk our necks on a mission." Jenny grinned. "Someday we'll just sit down and have a nice uneventful relaxing little break."

"I think Paul would like that." Francis grinned. "A lot."

"Yeah? Good." Jenny also smiled warmly. "I think I could see that working. Anyway, there's our home for the next month or so."

The grey shuttle had slipped into the buzzing crowds effortlessly, just one more object amid the hundreds if not thousands of small craft darting to and fro between the naval vessels. That anonymity was their main defence, though obviously nestling between a couple of hundred heavy warships also made them feel quite safe.

Director Durban had not been happy about this arrangement. Earth Force Command had requested the best analyst the EIA had to join the fleet in time for the next battle. The plan was the agent would decipher Dilgar fleet orders the moment they were sent and inform the leader of the human forces, Admiral Hamato. With that insight into what the Dilgar were going to do next Earth could make up for its lack of numbers by always been in the right place at the right time to meet Dilgar attacks.

Unfortunately only two men in the EIA, indeed in the whole of the Alliance could handle that job, and by far the best was Francis. It had taken a Presidential directive to get the young man off planet and on a ship to the front and Durban had been adamant that Francis come back in one piece very soon. As insurance he sent Jenny along to watch him for a while until a more permanent bodyguard could be provided. Jenny was more than able to do the job of course, but a full field agent was too valuable to pin down as a simple bodyguard for any length of time.

They danced between the lines of ships finishing their supply runs, fleet tenders were disconnecting fuel lines and retiring to head back to EA territory while shuttles delivered the last food supplies. A lot of the food and water came from Markab and the grateful government there. It was a small token but the fresh fruit and meats were very warmly welcomed by the crews of the warships and made a pleasant change from the usual meal bags they were used to.

The flagship herself was deployed in the centre of a Dreadnought division well covered by heavy warships, corvettes and fighters. She had seen action in the previous skirmish but had yet to fire her guns in anger, something which wasn't especially surprising. As fleet commander Hamato had no business entering gun range of the enemy force and should rather be seated a safe distance away observing the fighting and acting appropriately. If however the situation became dire, as was possible facing the larger Dilgar force currently on its way, then the EAS Hannibal had the firepower and training of any one of its sisters and her officers and crew were more than capable of dealing with a full enemy battlegroup single handed.

They were cleared and landed without ceremony, dropping into the main recovery bay and entering the pressurized section of the vessel before heading deeper into the Dreadnought, Francis following Jenny's lead.

Admiral Akira Hamato was a man of precision. Every single thing he did, every action, every gesture, every word or mild intonation of voice was calculated, controlled and enacted in such a way to give away as much or as little as Hamato wanted. Few knew anything much about the middle aged resident of Osaka and his private life, he never spoke of it and carefully steered every conversation away from the subject. He kept photographs of his wife and two children in his otherwise Spartan quarters along with his certificates of promotion and a horde of medals for exemplary service and bravery. As a peacetime officer Hamato had still managed to find a fair amount of action in his career, from flying first generation Furies against the Ch'Lonas to commanding the scratch force which drove away the Narn incursion over a decade ago.

Unlike Alexei Denisov who had served in much the same battles and skirmishes, Hamato had little interest in politics and so had never accepted a desk job in Earth Dome despite the huge prestige and enviable salary that entailed. He remained a fleet commander, and stood head and shoulders above his contemporaries as a cunning and intuitive warrior. He had been the only logical choice to command the combined fleets of the Earth Expeditionary Force.

"Once again I commend the spirit and skill of your warriors Grand Master Valna." He spoke calmly, almost softly but in a deep tone that allowed his words to carry.

"Thank you Admiral." The Markab senior commander bowed as well as he could in the corridor of the Dreadnought beside the shuttle hangar. "And once more accept the thanks of all Markab for your intervention."

"Earth takes its alliance with the Markab very seriously." Hamato affirmed. "This was an act of aggression that we could not stand. The Dilgar needed to be stopped Master Valna, and they still do."

"So you will continue to fight the Dilgar?" the Markab leader asked.

"For as long as it takes to defeat them." Hamato nodded. "Months, years, decades. We are in this war now, totally committed to the goal of driving the invaders back to the gates of Omelos itself. This war is now our war."

Valna took the Admirals words as truth. "The Theocrats and College of Cardinals is debating our next moves in this war. It is likely they will demand a full counter attack. Like you Admiral they want to drive the Dilgar away from the League."

"I suspect public opinion demands nothing less."

"A few weeks ago we wanted nothing to do with war." Valna considered. "Now nearly every able bodied person on the planet wishes to join the fleet. They bay for blood like the worst Drazi mob and would do to the Dilgar the same horrors they do to others. I can tell you Admiral it is a fearful sight to see in ones own people. I do not know what they will do to the Dilgar, but by the Maker they terrify me."

"Earth Force has a contingency plan to incorporate Markab warships into our overall fleet make up, we think it would be better if we fought side be side instead of two independent fleets."

"I agree Admiral." Valna confirmed. "We are united in this war, as it should be."

"There is an issue of command." Hamato carefully broached the subject.

"It is no concern Admiral, I humbly submit to your authority."

The human raised an eyebrow, the closest Hamato came to making an expression of surprise. "That was easier than I expected."

"Only logical Admiral." Valna replied. "Earth has the larger fleet, and you were the ones who defeated the Dilgar."

"They still have a major fleet in the field, we haven't driven them back yet."

"Never the less this force is seen by many as divine." Valna explained. "The whole world prayed for the gods to send help and deliverance, and then you arrive. People are seeing Earth as a messenger from the gods to guide us on the path to righteous victory and will gladly follow your orders."

"It may take a short while to coordinate our fleet communications, coordinate tactics and strategy."

"I understand Admiral, and after the display I have seen it will be a privilege to learn the human way of war." Valna grinned. "Then to use it on the Dilgar. But right now we have few ships and our crews are eager but exhausted."

"I suggest you take your ships and guard Markab itself." Hamato spoke. "Protect your world from underhanded sneak attacks while I take on the Dilgar battle line itself."

Valna accepted the decision. "I would prefer to fight along side you Admiral, but having no set tactics or communication protocols would make it confusing to send us orders."

"There will be plenty of time for us to fight side by side." Hamato assured. "That is a promise Grand Master."

"I am sure of it." The Markab agreed. "We took severe losses, however our deep range missions are coming home giving us a core of experienced ships, and thanks to Itala and the Ambassadors we had begun moving to a war economy. The Dilgar destroyed our active ships but bypassed our yards until later. We have many vessels under construction, and vast numbers of fresh recruits to fly them. The Markab fleet will once more be a formidable power."

"One Earth welcomes as a true friend and ally." Hamato bowed. "Thank you for this talk Master Valna."

"It is good to know where we stand." The Markab grinned. "On a pile of Dilgar bodies."

"Someday soon Master Valna, someday very soon. Safe journey home."

"May the Maker continue favouring us."

"Indeed." Hamato nodded. "But forgive me if I put my faith in more, shall we say direct forms of intervention? Not much can argue with a forty gun assault from a Dreadnought."

Valna laughed. "That I look forward to seeing! To victory and death!"

"We have a saying on Earth Master Valna, the point of war is not to die for your nation, but to make your opponent die for his."

The Markab laughed again. "I can see this war will be a struggle for the legends! Great and glorious Admiral, I will not fail in my part. Farewell, and together we'll send these Dilgar to the hell that spawned them!"

The brown robed military figure made his way out to the shuttle bay and the small transport he had arrived on, offering a final salute as he departed which Hamato returned in similar style. With most of their fanatical officers dead the Markab were going to have to retrain from scratch under Valna. This suited Earth just fine, Valna had an aggressive spirit but knew the limits of his forces and had more faith in guns than gods. Even better than that Valna also wanted to learn human tactics, which in turn meant he would teach them to the new recruits and ship commanders. This was going to be the start of a very productive partnership, Markab ships under Valna's leadership using human tactics. They would be a valuable and deadly addition to Hamato's expeditionary force.

Hamato had only to stand at the entrance to the shuttle bay for at most thirty seconds before the second meeting of the day presented itself. He prided himself on his sense of timing, something which in his view won wars.

"Miss Sakai, Mr O'Leary." He greeted, making it a statement rather than a question. It was incredibly rare Hamato was ever wrong about anything, the amount of research and planning he used in even mundane tasks had become a habit. His memory for facts was almost flawless and he was a walking library of military history and strategies of the past, all of which he had found ways to adapt for the present.

"Admiral." Jenny took the lead. "Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted." Hamato confirmed. "Welcome to the Hannibal, I have arranged quarters but first I would like to exchange information. I sense we have little time until we will be tested."

"That's right sir, by my guess the Dilgar will be here in…"

Hamato raised his hand to stop him. "In private Mr O'Leary, if you will follow me to me state room we will continue this conversation."

With silent agreement the two agents joined the Admiral as they moved away from the shuttle bay, floating down the narrow square corridors and through the complex internals of the warship. The corridors had equally sized walls and floors giving them a square rather than rectangular profile and making it easier for people to pass by in zero gravity. Crew members would be able to pull themselves along on any of the four walls rather than restrict themselves to just two within a rectangular corridor.

They arrived at the state room and entered the bleak grey location and found chairs to sit in, using the restraints to keep them in place as the warship idled in space.

The Admiral lowered himself into a reasonably comfortable chair on the far side of his work desk and before addressing his guests made a quick check of his ships status.

"Commander Patel," He spoke into a communication relay. "How long until we can expect Admiral Ferguson?"

"About thirty seven minutes sir." A light female voice replied in precise tones. "The final supply ships from Markab have made their deliveries and are heading home now, as is Master Valna's ship."

"Very well Commander, maintain Condition Two across the fleet and keep up the patrols. We do not need to e surprised by an advanced Dilgar raiding party."

"Understood Admiral, I will keep you informed."

The channel closed letting Hamato regard his two colleagues and try and take some measure of them. Both were young and clearly had great skill to have risen so far so fast. He could tell from her build and grace Jenny Sakai was a field agent while Francis was likely the analyst though he seemed reasonably fit. He didn't know a whole lot about the inner workings of the EIA, few did, but he knew Director Durban was incredibly concise in his selection of agents and he knew Durban had not wanted to let these two go into harms way. For Hamato that was as good as reading a glowing CV for the pair of them.

"Now Mr O'Leary, you were about to tell me the latest news on the Dilgar intentions?" The Admiral steepled his fingers, sat back and gave the young man his undivided and slightly intimidating attention.

"Yes Admiral." Francis began, ordering his mind and activating his small computer. "By our analysis the Dilgar will be arriving in three hours in great strength."

"How great?"

"About three thousand ships." Francis answered honestly. "Every vessel between here and Mitoc with a gun and an engine."

"Jha'dur recalled every asset she has." Hamato commented. "It appears she is taking us very seriously."

"From our intercepts I would say so, yes sir."

"How accurate is your data?" Hamato asked quickly.

"Well I can play you a record of the conversation." Francis said. "A face to face talk between Jha'dur and the supreme Warmaster."

Once more Hamato came close to a reaction, but not quite. "The Dilgar appreciate security, I expected those transmissions to be encrypted."

"Oh they were." Francis confirmed with a grin. "Heavily encrypted infact, I hadn't seen anything like it before. They actually buried the true code in…"

Jenny gave him an ever so slight kick to remind him to stay on track.

"So yeah, very heavy encryption." The code breaker made a swift conclusion to his companions approval. "But we managed to break it within a few days."

"How?"

"Well for starters with one of these." Francis tapped his computer. "It's a pure code breaking machine, once on Earth we can hook it up to rows and rows of super computers for number crunching power, but once we get the base Dilgar code sequence, this box alone will be enough."

The Admiral accepted the information. "So you can plug this into my communications terminal?"

"Yes sir, it will decode any Dilgar transmission, then I translate it into English as its given."

"You speak their language that fluently?"

"Sansar, shen traski karthren." Francis answered with a grin.

Hamato didn't so much as blink. "Yes or no Agent O'Leary."

Francis found himself uncontrollably going red with embarrassment. "Yes sir."

"We recovered full language files from a Dilgar shuttle." Jenny stepped in to give her friend time to regroup. "It's proven accurate in the past."

"Indeed, I read a report on that recovery mission." Hamato nodded. "An impressive operation Agent Sakai."

"Could have gone better sir." She said bitterly. "We lost people."

"And saved many more. The media may be quiet on the subject, but don't imagine Earth Force has forgotten the Persephone and her crew." The Admiral promised. "This battle will be our tribute." He returned his gaze to Francis. "So Agent O'Leary, any further news on Dilgar numbers and composition?"

Francis didn't even need to check his notes. "The entire fighting strength of the First and Second Strike Fleets and the Third Line fleet which was acting as a reserve unit for the Rimward assault. Total of three thousand, one hundred and nine ships."

"Against which we have Two thousand and three Earth Force vessels and one hundred and thirty six Markab warships."

"Three to two odds in their favour." Jenny grimaced. "And under Jha'dur you can bet they'll exploit that advantage."

"I expect to be assaulted continuously across a wide front." Hamato stated. "She will maintain pressure until we crack, then commit a large reserve to break our lines and finish us off."

""You think so sir?" Francis asked.

"I would." Hamato replied. "However she doesn't know much about us. She knows enough to take no chances and hit us withevery ships she has, but she can't predict that her tactics will play into our hands. I want them to attack in force. I want them to close in and try to overwhelm us. It's exactly the type of battle we're trained and set up for, and Jha'dur is the type of enemy we signed up to fight. Smart and vicious."

"The Dilgar will come in all guns blazing sir." Jenny cautioned. "They aren't the type to accept defeat or be worried by the odds stacking against them."

"That is correct." Hamato nodded. "I fully expect today to be the defining moment of Earth Force, the moment when we prove our existence to the galaxy. We have fought many battles against aliens and humans alike, in the bleak deserts of Mars, the empty halls of space and the boardrooms of the Senate. Many have called into question the validity of such a large military force, today we deliver that answer in simple inarguable terms."

"We'll be facing an enemy that doesn't know how to lose."

"Then they are due a lesson." Despite the bravado in the words Hamato was deadly serious. "How many times has Jha'dur withdrawn from battle?"

Francis was a little startled to find himself back in the centre of attention. "Well I can find two instances, she cut short an attack on the Abbai homeworld, and the Hyach homeworld."

"Sshumssha is a fortress." Jenny named the Abbai cradle. "I saw those defences first hand, layers of gun satellites, mine fields, ground based missiles and a pair of major space stations. You could lose a thousand ships trying to take that place."

"And the Hyach are no less fierce." Hamato reasoned. "What they lack in shielding technology they more than make up for with heavy weapons. Their satellites and fortresses are the finest in the galaxy with more firepower than anything else I have ever seen. She was wise to give those worlds a wide berth."

"Dilgar policy is to knock out fleet assets, anything mobile, then blockade the planet and move on." Jenny explained what she had learned. "It's an efficient way of keeping up momentum, and it's worked so far."

"There is one flaw though, at least from a Dilgar point of view." Francis continued. "They haven't been able to destroy a major League homeworld."

"It would take too much in terms of resources, and they need those ships in the field." Jenny went on. "For now anyway, once they've secured their borders they can turn in and knock off each planet one by one regardless of cost. By that time they'll have fresh ships rolling out of the yards built with League resources."

"Making them the biggest power in the galaxy." Hamato concluded for them. "An amalgamation of the best League technology, dozens of major worlds and infrastructure and a highly skilled and potent military. Not an opponent we would wish to face."

"It is one of the main reasons Director Durban pressed for a war now." The female spoke. "We were going to fight them one day, better now when they are overstretched and we still have allies that may help us."

"Invading Markab was the pretext we needed for war." Hamato figured.

"The pretext the Senate needed." Jenny corrected. "For mankind in general the simple existence of the Dilgar and their crimes is reason enough to take them on."

"Well I won't dispute that." Hamato admitted. "So Jha'dur has avoided fighting planets, what about fleets?"

"So far she's taken everything that came her way, except us."

"A battle she postponed until the odds were better." Hamato returned. "But odds don't seem to worry her much, why flee from us yet take on Brakiri, Cascan and Drazi forces that outgun her?"

"She must know something about Earth." Francis suggested. "Enough to understand our ships are tougher than Brakiri or other League vessels."

"Can't be the man she thinks she has on Earth, we dealt with him before he did much damage." Jenny remarked.

"The Persephone." It was Hamato who reached the obvious answer. "The recorder shows she caused a hell of a lot of damage before she went down, that must have made an impression. She is cautious when she needs to be, but also bold. She will probe our lines first, but once she commits she will do so without hesitation. Hard battle."

"Can we exploit that?"

"Quite easily." Hamato said with a twinkle in his eye. "We fight as hard as she expects, and then we hit her even harder. Repeatedly. She is bringing us plenty of ships, I doubt even our rookie gunners could miss such a target."

"Three whole fleets." Jenny exhaled. "Those ships are undefeated, they have the most experienced crews and best leaders in the galaxy. She wants us dead."

"And in so doing has killed herself and any chance of Dilgar victory." Hamato said bluntly. "All those ships in one place at one time, lined up in front of more firepower than she can guess we have. "What's that saying about putting all your eggs in one basket?"

Abruptly Hamato smiled.

"She has made a mistake, what she sees as a guarantee of victory is in fact the worst thing she could have chosen to do. We will take that which she feels safest about, her numbers and discipline, the courage and determination of her crews to press an attack in the teeth of superior firepower, the very facets that gave the Dilgar so many victories in their past. Now they will be her undoing. They won't run, they won't break, they won't escape. We'll suck them into the crucible and burn them down. Jha'dur has stated in the past she takes her enemies greatest strength and makes it a weakness to exploit. Now we're going to do it to her."

He nodded slowly, looking to the medals and certificates on his wall.

"Today Earth Force has a job to do, we change the galaxy in the next few hours one way or another. Mankind has sat on the sidelines of the galaxy and simply watched, expanded and prepared. The time for waiting is over. It is time to go forth and announce to everyone out there who we are and show them what we can do. We're going to do the impossible, do what no one else alive can do. We're going to face the most powerful Dilgar force ever assembled and we're going to send them all straight to hell. So I swear it. Yesterday nobody knew much about Earth, tomorrow no one will ever forget us."

Dilgar Strike Fleet

Hyperspace

As Warmaster Jha'dur had no cause to knock on a door, she could go anywhere she liked at any time, a simple privilege of rank. But in this instance she was not coming to congratulate or berate one of her crew as leader, she came to the door as a simple woman with bad news.

"Enter." The electronic voice replied to her hail in flat monotone, and a further tap parted the now unlocked doors into the junior officers quarters. Jha'dur clearly surprised the four officers who stood sharply to attention, one of them being Ari'shan.

"You Gentlemen," she regarded the other three. "I am sure you have some duties elsewhere."

Without a word they took the hint and departed, sealing the door behind Jha'dur and Ari'shan.

"As you were Officer." She gestured for him to sit, then found a chair of her own while the pilot perched on his bed with a blank expression that was rather unusual for the normally energetic Dilgar.

"How long until we are in position Warmaster?" he asked in a tone echoing his distracted look.

"Minutes." She said. "Less than an hour at least. And I am currently off duty, so drop the formality."

He exhaled. "I know what you are here for."

She cast her eyes down for a moment. "I thought you might. I've just spoken with our new and useful head of intelligence. The human news channels are correct."

"It was always going to be a possibility, but I still admit I am just shocked, and empty."

"Kem'shan was a great man." Jha'dur said solemnly. "He led his warriors bravely, and stayed with them to the end. Honour demands no more of a commander."

"Perhaps not, but it still isn't going to bring him back." Ari'shan said bitterly. "I'd prefer a living brother to a dead hero."

"You are not alone."

The off duty Warmaster opened a nearby locker, rummaged a little and pulled out a bottle of purple liquid. "I could have sworn I ordered no alcohol in quarters." She opened the lid. "To Kem'shan, he went before his time, and took a part of us with him."

"I can't drink to that." Ari'shan said bleakly. "I'm never going to touch alcohol again."

Jha'dur sighed and placed the bottle on the table with a slight thud. "Believe it or not I do understand what this must be like for you."

"I lose my brother, and my whole squadron in the same week." Ari'shan spoke plainly.

"No one could have predicted that." Jha'dur shook her head. "Tiree should have held for a month at least, but those human soldiers… I don't know how they did it."

"Kem'shan was born to serve in the army." Ari mused. "As the first son Dal'shan was to follow in our Father's footsteps. Go to the fleet academy, join a warship, get his own command and one day become a Warmaster."

"he is well on the way." Jha'dur agreed.

"Dal'shan was always smart, cunning." Ari considered. "The closest in character to our Father, and to you Jha'dur."

"He knows politics, as a good Warmaster should. But is not ruled by them. They are tools to him, to us." Jha'dur reasoned out. "He knows success does not come from words. Usually to win you just need to kill lots and lots of people."

"That sounds like him. But not me, and not Kem'shan." Ari continued. "He knew what he had to do in a war, but it was always measured. He did not kill for the sake of it like so many other army commanders. He had a conscience and principles, one of the few who really did. The army is darker for his passing."

"The universe is darker for his passing." Jha'dur added. "My relationship with him was not so close as yours, but he was still like a brother, just as you are."

"I remember at the junior academy, I was eight and challenged a middle classman to a fight." Ari'shan related, staring blankly ahead. "He insulted my Father's honour I think, even at twelve I took that sort of thing seriously." He smiled wanly. "Naturally I lost, but before this classman could really hurt me Kem'shan arrived. He was already in the Army academy and had mastered basic infantry combat and layed this cretin out, and then flattened three of his friends. Don't know why that came to mind, he helped me many times but that one event just won't go away."

Jha'dur let the words hang silently for a long while, she too had her memories of Kem'shan, always stalwart and immovable. A better example of a Dilgar soldier than most.

"Dal'shan is like our father, but I think I led my life based on Kem'shan." Ari concluded. "It was good to know that there would always be honour."

"It's not something that goes away, I just never saw much use for it."

"And I just can't see anything without it." Ari returned. "I suppose that is how we differ."

"Honour is a luxury we have when we are winning." The Warmaster stated. "In a war like this there is only victory or extinction, I know which choice I have made."

"If we don't have honour no victory is complete. It is tarnished."

"To win is it's own reward. You know once I agreed with you, but not anymore. Something changed many years ago and I saw things for what they really were. No idealism, no innocence, just the coldness that surrounds us and takes everything we love. I am sorry for your loss, Kem'shan's death diminishes all of us, but we still have a job to do. Can I count on you?"

The pilot made no immediate answer and instead focused on the deck at his feet.

"When we fight the humans again, I need my best people to meet them. You are one of them Ari."

"Knight Squadron was the best." He looked up. "And that's not just some boast, they really were the best. I hand picked them for their skill and attitude. They were perfect pilots, they never made any mistakes. Never."

"Perfection is no guarantee of survival, sometimes it can't be helped."

"They were the best, and they died, all but one of them. Died in less than two seconds." He shook his head. "In two gods damned seconds! How is that even possible? We had over a thousand kills between us! Two seconds."

"Look Ari, we couldn't have known how effective the human fighters were going to be. We'd never met them before."

"Just like we couldn't predict how deadly the human army was on Tiree. And look what we lost there."

Jha'dur again looked away. "This should never have been allowed to happen. I should have defied the council."

"Then you'd be dead." Ari replied. "And we'd still be at war."

She shook her head and sighed. "I promise you his deathh will be avenged, and I don't just mean among humans. The Council will pay for creating this mess."

"I know they will, but you miss my point." Ari stated.

Jha'dur frowned a little, she didn't usually miss hints and clues regardless of subtlety. "What do you mean?"

"I took my best squadron against human fighters, and they were wiped out. My brother took the best troops in the Imperium up against the human army and they were also wiped out. Now you're going to take our best battle fleet up against the human Navy. Can you be sure history won't repeat itself a third time?"

"I have thought of nothing else this week." The Warmaster admitted. "This day, this battle has haunted me since we first met humans. I've bent every resource I command to finding news about the humans, insight into their weapons and tactics, their history and culture. Everything. Did I waste my time? Perhaps, only history will tell. What I do know is that we can't turn away. If we fail to meet them it sends a signal to every fleet in hiding and every besieged world that we are not invincible. That we are afraid. Then we die."

"We may die anyway, this human fleet is big."

"We outnumber it."

"Do we outgun it?"

Jha'dur curled her lip. "Turning into a strategist Ari?"

"Well I have an interest in knowing." He returned the smile. "We didn't take a single ship in the last skirmish."

"We will today."

"I can tell there's a second part to this story."

"There is." Jha'dur confirmed. "We will win, of that I am certain. But it will not be cheap. I can't count on the humans to fight stupidly or display and idiosyncrasies. This will be a fair fight, and while its been a while since our crews had a real test I am positive they will do us proud."

"How many of us will die?"

"I estimate thirty to forty percent in each Strike fleet." She stated the calculation coldly. "With Third Fleet of the Line taking ninety percent or more losses."

"More than half the people we go in with."

"The weaker half."

Ari'shan did not blink at the simple statement, he expected such coldness from the Warmaster.

Silently the pilot stood up from the edge of his bunk and straightened his duty uniform. "I am fit for service Warmaster, and will go into battle as befits a pilot of the Imperium."

Jha'dur locked eyes with him. "I do have some contacts on Omelos. This has been a hard time for you, I could see to it that received a position in the academy training new pilots. You need never see action again."

Ari smiled. "I appreciate that offer, but you know I wouldn't consider it for even a second."

"No, but it was worth asking." She smiled in return. "I am glad you will stay with us, you are still the best pilot in the fleet."

"But not the best in the Galaxy." Ari'shan intoned darkly. "You should have seen the human I fought, I threw every trick I knew at him and he still remained stuck to my tail."

"Next time you will be ready. We all make mistakes."

"My last mistake cost ten lives."

Jha'dur scoffed. "Mine cost ten thousand. You learn to live with it."

Ari'shan huffed, not wanting to argue. "My fighter is space worthy, just some superficial scarring."

"I'm going to attach you to Dagger Squadron from Second Strike, they are the best unit in my Brothers fleet, and the second best after Knight squadron."

"There is no Knght Squadron." Ari remarked. "So I suppose Dagger is the best now."

"I suppose so." Jha'dur shrugged. "You will deploy independently and engage targets of opportunity. Be careful."

There was a faint hum as the ship wide speaker activated. "Warmaster Jha'dur, please contact the bridge."

She leaned over and switched a wall panel. "Captain?"

"Warmaster, you wished to be informed when we were ten minutes from Markab."

"Very well, I am on my way." She ended the message. "You better get suited up."

"As you order Warmaster."

Jha'dur made for the door, pausing at the threshold. "And Ari, don't do anything stupid. I don't think your father could handle losing two sons in a week."

"I won't." he promised.

"If something does go wrong, head for the gate and run. That is an order."

"Understood Warmaster." He replied, with no intention of following it.

"Death or Glory is a nice phrase, but its just words. I'll see you later Ari."

Within a minute Jha'dur was passing through the thick clamshell doors onto the bridge, the sound of beeping computers and low voices reassuring her that the crew was active and in control of the situation.

"Stand by Captain." She announced as she fell into her well used command chair. "Time?"

"Seven minutes." An'jash stated precisely. "We're passing the outer beacons now."

"Sound action stations and copy to the fleet." The Warmaster fell into her stride. "Ready missile racks and get the pilots in their fighters. I want to be armed and ready for battle the second we transit normal space."

"As you order Warmaster."

Alerts rang out across the fleet, the deadliest assembly of Dilgar power yet seen. It had fewer numbers than the combined fleets which had met the Drazi counter attack some months ago, but those ships had not assembled in the same place at the same time. Jha'dur was confident in this concentration of force, the instrument of war she would wield in this battle. But even so humanity had shown itself to be a truly formidable opponent.

"Captain, last minute orders to the fleet." Jha'dur announced. "All fighters may engage the older human Starfury models at will, but they will not engage the newer models with anything less than a three to one superiority and try to maintain a medium range engagement."

"Yes Warmaster." The Captain confirmed. "It will be hard for them, we've trained them to close in at point blank range before attacking. By engaging at medium range it gives the humans a chance to avoid our shots."

"Better than trying to fight those four engined fighters on terms they were built for." The Warmaster replied. "Still, this is not a battle to be decided by fighters. What was the latest report on crew readiness?"

"They will follow you into hell Warmaster." An'jash said proudly.

"It may come to that." The leader said quietly. "We must not hesitate to throw ourselves into the teeth of the enemy forces. They are powerful but few in number, a good test for some of our tactics for fighting the more advanced Empires in the future."

Her crew waited at their stations, tens of thousands of them sealed in their steel tombs, protected yet also isolated. The passed the blood red turmoil of hyperspace, the red light playing and dancing on the hard hulls in an omen of war. From the few windows in the fleet the surrounding ships appeared soaked in blood, perhaps that of their enemy, or perhaps their own.

"Approaching final coordinates." An'jash stated flatly, a slight anticipation leaking through her calmness.

"Spin up jump engines, order all ships to commit." Jha'dur steady her breath and now focused all her wits and skill on the task in hand. This promised to be her greatest test and one she could not afford to fail.

"Standing by."

"Initiate jump, full combat deployment once we are through and set all point defences to local control. Take us into battle."

With the twinkling of a thousand stars the jump points opened across a vast gulf, thousands of miles seperating one end of the fleet from the other. Ships of every description glided through the yawning vortexes, representing every industry on Omelos. From scout cruisers and frigates up to Dreadnoughts and Super Carriers. Ships that were decades old and some with merely a few weeks behind them. Crewing thm were Dilgar from every continent, country and clan. Young and old alike, fresh recruits and hardened veterans from the lowliest rating to the most celebrated Warmaster in the history of their race. All together, a broad stroke of Dilgar civilisation featuring the very best and very worst they had to offer.

"Do you remember your schooling Captain?" Jha'dur asked in normal tones.

"Indeed Warmaster." An'jash did not take her eyes from the screens, noting with satisfaction how the vast fleet was arraying itself perfectly, like an organic creature uncoiling and baring its teeth.

"Do you recall your literature classes, they taught them in your academy did they not?"

"Yes Warmaster." Dilgar schooling tended to be highly regimented, more like an infantry barracks than a school creating the soldiers of the future. For generations the Dilgar had been breeding warriors for this war, this time of destiny as the Council liked to call it. "Some of it at least."

Jha'dur frowned for a moment. "Third Line is slightly a head of position, move the Second forward to close the gap."

"Sending Warmaster."

"The Humans have put Cruisers between us and their Dreadnoughts, Third Line will pin them while Second Strike opens a path into the Heart of the human fleet." She grinned slightly. "Then we will charge through that gap, bring First Strike into close combat with the Human Dreadnought line and see what they are really made of."

"To nobly rise or gloriously fall beneath the tide of blood." Captain An'jash recited. "That was one Literature class I remember."

"An apt recital Captain." The Warmaster approved. "What was true a thousand years ago is still true today."

She stood from her chair and looked at the map showing the human fleet, head held high and eyes fixed on the enemy.

"Let no exultation precede us and no wailing follow behind. Let no mercy stay our hand and let no pity weigh in our hands. Let our enemies know who comes for them, let them know death rides on swift wings of steel." She allowed the ancient poem to stir her blood and set her will, whatever the consequences. "We are the Prime Dilgar, we are Deaths hand and Hells Gates, and we come to sow the flames of perdition and spill the blood of the unworthy. For we are Dilgar Warriors, and let the gods themselves quake at our passing."

Their time was now at hand, there was nothing left to do.

"Launch fighters and run the engines up to full." The Great Warmaster ordered stoically. "Lets give Death a feast like he has never had before."

EAS Nemesis

Earth Expeditionary Force

Markab Home System.

"Captain on deck!"

Joe Tennant acknowledged the call with a slight wave. "As you were people, eyes on the game."

Most of the bridge crew hadn't really moved anyway which was fine by Tennant, he liked them to never let their eyes wander from the plethora of screens and displays that adorned all four walls of the bridge compartment secreted deep in the armoured core of the Dreadnought. His First Officer however did look his way, and the sudden widening of the mans eyes was priceless.

"Commander Anderson, status?"

"Errr.. well…" The First Officer sought the right words and momentarily failed.

"Something bothering you Simon?"

"Well sir, it's just your uniform appears, err, irregular?"

Joe Tennant was a big man, over six feet of well toned muscle with barely an ounce of fat on his physique, he was more like a Marine than a fleet officer. His build was a product of his heritage, Joe was a Maori hailing from the islands of New Zealand and had been bred by his people for the ancient and brutal form of tribal warfare known as Rugby. While the young man had excelled at this ultimately he wanted to do something more and gave up a promising professional sports career to join Earth Force.

He decided against the obvious route of using his physical prowess to allow an easy graduation into the army and petitioned hard for a fleet officer posting, eventually earning his way to command through hard work and outstanding achievements in exercises and live missions. If anyone had the right to command a Dreadnought it was definitely Joe Tennant. His crew liked to say the Nova class was the only ship heavy enough for their Captain not to break simply by stepping on it.

Right now however it was not his mountainous form that grabbed attention, but his attire. In addition to his blue duty uniform he had around his waist a skirt made from woven dry grass. Its golden hue was utterly at odds with the rest of the environment, and no doubt quite a surprise to the First Officer.

"Think it makes my bum look big?" The Captain asked with a hint of mischief. "It was a gift Commander, from the local Shaman. He gave it to me before we left Earth and told me it would bring us luck and good fortune if a wore it."

"Very well sir." Anderson regained his composure. "But I'll put my trust in a battery of laser cannons before grass skirts."

"Every little helps." Tennant took his chair and strapped in, running a hand over his short black hair. "So what do we have?"

"It's about time for us to earn our pay." Anderson stated simply. "The enemy just jumped in and set course, lots of them."

"Close up for action stations." Tennant got down to business. "Tell Sinclair to get his people space born and take point. Run out the guns Mister Anderson and hoist the colours."

The Nemesis growled into life like a waking beast, its massive gun turrets powering up and swinging back and forth to check their mechanisms. The hangar doors retracted like massive castle gates and allowed Commander Sinclair to bring his air wing out into the wide open space beyond, flickering blue engines marking their position as the took defensive stations near the heavy ship. As an added encouragement Tennant had provided flags for the main areas of the ship, from engineering to the gun rooms and the bridge itself. On his order these flags were unfurled, each of them a stylised Jolly Roger with a white skull grinning lifelessly at them.

"That's more like it." The Captain grinned. "Now I feel ready for battle, just one last thing…"

Anderson made a note to turn his head and protect his ears, as closest officer to the Captain he usually found his head ringing after the inevitable roar.

Tennant gulped a deep breath before raising his arms and issuing the challenge. "Ka mate, Ka mate! Ko ra, ko,ra!"

The Captain thundered out the traditional Haka chant of his people, daring the Dilgar to meet him in battle and test themselves against his spirit. Like the skirt and the flags it was somewhat eccentric but did wonders for morale. The crew took heart in the old fashioned warrior spirit of their leader and more than a few joined in as the chant was piped over the speakers across the ship.

"Whiti te ra, hiiii!" He finished with a long growling exultation and slammed his hands together with a final flourish. "Right then, now we're ready."

Anderson couldn't help a grin despite himself. "Shame you can't do the full dance sir."

"Would it kill R&D to invent artificial gravity soon so that I can do the real Haka?" Tennant complained. "These belts cramp my style."

A few beeps brought the Commander back to duty. "Fleet orders coming in, data is authentic and properly formatted."

"Well then, in for a penny…"

EAS Hannibal

Flagship

EEF

Francis had never seen the bridge of a major warship before, and he was surprised by how still it actually was. He had expected flashing lights, whirring computers and officers floating back and forth with a constant dull chatter just like in the movies. In fact things looked far more dull as each officer minded his or her console and the only voices tended to be from the Admiral and First officer.

That officer was Alina Patel, a short incredibly slim woman of Northern Indian origin with a cut glass accent showing she had the highest level of education. It was still something of an irony that the higher levels of Indian education produced graduates who spoke in a high class English accent, even after centuries of independence.

"Dilgar fleet is heading our way, reading a steady acceleration curve." She announced flawlessly.

"Are they deployed in three waves?" Hamato wondered.

"Yes Admiral, with the first two waves close together and the third hanging a few thousand miles back."

"As expected." Hamato nodded. "This will be all about attrition."

The Japanese man followed the tactical display and held his chin for a few moments, deep in an intense thought as he predicted when and how he would meet the Dilgar.

"Mr O'Leary, do you have a connection?"

"Yes sir." Francis checked his portable computer, the Black Box with all the tools he needed to crack the Dilgar battlefield transmissions. "It's linked into the Hannibal's communication net, which in turn is receiving intercepts from our ELINT vessels."

"So in theory no messages will get past us?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, I want a running commentry of the orders given by either Warmaster."

"Commentary sir?"

"Just shout them out Mr O'Leary." Hamato clarified. "I will hear them even if I give no acknowledgement."

"Understood sir." Francis confirmed, and began the vital job of decoding and translating the myriad of orders, focusing on just the direct Warmaster grade communications.

"So now we meet the best of the Dilgar." Hamato said as neither statement nor question.

"Yes sir, looks like a hell of a lot of them." Patel observed. "Guess it makes it harder for us to miss."

"Dreadnoughts aren't loaded with this many guns simply for looks." Hamato remarked with trademark calm. "We will let them become pinned on our cruiser screen, then hammer them with our battleships. The whole fleet will advance, two thirds speed."

"Aye sir, fleet is responding, engines online." Patel read off her wide screen display. "here we go."

At the rear of the ship the vast engines growled into life, blue rings of fire blazing with greater and greater intensity as they laboured to push the monumental warship through nothingness. Across the ranks and waves of grey armour blue and red lights illuminated and pushed in unison, driving the whole human force ahead.

"All units on their way." Patel reported. "No malfunctions."

"Admiral, Dilgar command just ordered their fighters out!" Francis added. "They have orders to hold on until the lines engage."

"And our interceptors are too busy knocking down weapons fire to deal wit their strike craft." Hamato judged. "Clever, but our pilots are more than up to the challenge. Commander, inform wing leaders across the fleet to standby for intense enemy fighter attacks. Try to keep them away from our heavy vessels."

"Orders away."

"Keep a close watch on the flanks and inform me of any move towards Markab itself. " The Admiral added. "I doubt Jha'dur will split her forces, but be watchful all the same."

Two thousand warships held their formation, a maze of guns and metal powering forward towards their enemy in defence of billions of lives on the world behind them, and billions more in the cradle of Earth herself. Every human knew what was at stake and what role was expected of them in this war. Whatever life they led they were united now in their duty.

"All units weapons free." Hamato gave his final general order. "Fire at will."

The first red lines of laser and particle fire cast the inside of the cockpit bright red, the polarized visor thankfully protecting Sinclair's eyes from damage. On all sides the various cruiser class ships had opened the engagement at long range tracing long beams of fire over the foremost Dilgar vessels. At this range the effects would be moderately powerful, but as the two forces closed and the human ships were allowed to use their other close in heavy weapons, then the real carnage would begin.

"Ghost Riders, form up and look lively, hostiles on their way."

With a few minor adjustments the mean looking fighters dropped in behind the leader, hulls flashing with reflected light from the blazing guns coming to life all around them. Further behind them the Dreadnoughts remained silent for the moment, the enemy forces still beyond their powerful grasp.

"Banshee squadron hold your station near the Nemesis." Sinclair commanded, keeping the second squadron of the airwing in reserve. "Ghosts, we've got orders to intercept freely, so look for anything heading this way."

The Dilgar understood the value of a heavy fighter presence, like Earth they had invested heavily in both the quality of their craft and the quantity. The relatively new Super Carriers equal to Earth's Avenger class ships pumped Dart fighters into the sky, some flying clean and ready for close range dogfighting, others laden down with anti ship missiles and mines. The various squadrons massed for an overwhelming strike, and as the frontlines of warships engaged in earnest the Dilgar fighters accelerated sharply.

Among them was Ari'shan, his battle streaked fighter leading the way with wave after wave of Thorun's following his path, thousands of them.

"Full evasive flying." He ordered. "Ignore the cruisers, our target is the Dreadnought group. Dagger Squadron, Blitz Squadron, take cover positions around the Strike wings. Watch for fighters and do not underestimate humans." He felt his eyes narrow. "Look for a red marked human fighter. He's mine."

The vast waves of enemy aircraft seared on purple ion trails, and silently waiting for them the equally large and deadly fighters of Earth Force bided their time and waited for the interceptors to have the first blood of the day.

With a brief flash one of the leading Dilgar Frigates broke in two, fire bursting from its hull like life blood blazing momentarily in the black battle field. Several more ships followed its example, cut down by concentrated fire as they pressed into the Earth Force fire trap. Rail guns and plasma batteries opened up as the range decreased further, physically shattering the hulls of the weakly made enemy vessels in blossoms of silver wreckage and white fire.

Simultaneously the larger Dilgar vessels sauntered into range making reply with their own not inconsiderable fire power. An Artemis frigate was caught by a pair of cruisers at mid range, bashing through its thick hull with repeated impacts, spinning the vessel with each impact and scattering its internal systems across the Markab system.

Their victory was short lived however as a Vengeful battlecruiser surgically cut through the foremost Dilgar cruiser, melting and parting its hull like foil and flash frying its insides in gouts of molten steel and brightly burning gas. The second cruiser fell to a single rail gun round, a lucky shot that cracked open its fusion reactor and let a blazing sun emerge through the hull, immolating the warship and damaging its escorting Destroyers.

Through this initial exchange the Dilgar fighters charged straight into a storm of criss crossing interceptor fire. Luckily for them most of the EA vessels had more immediate targets to bring down, but there were enough escorts still unengaged to fill the sky with a barrage of gun fire.

"Don't fly a predictable pattern!" Ari'shan spun through a wide loop. "Keep their tracking systems off balance! Use your instinct!"

While his advice was good many pilots found it hard to match and Thoruns began to fall from the heavens, shattered by the human point defences. The fighters didn't linger, crossing the cruiser line as fast as possible but even at full thrust the interceptor batteries could easily track and fire at the large Dilgar craft.

The snap and crack of exploding fighters was inaudible in vacuum, but the waves of energy released from the explosion rocked nearby craft with a thud of flexing metal and a tinkle of tiny hull shards bouncing off the sleek craft. Whole squadrons vanished in seconds, swiped away by the vicious crossfire thrown up by the ranks of Corvettes and escorts. The only real chance the Dilgar had was just to accelerate, weave as best they could and pray the law of averages favoured them.

The line of human ships was not especially wide, and it was busy with the increasingly concentrated attacks coming from the Dilgar line fleet, but even so they still found enough spare capacity to turn the space in and around the Thoruns into a total killing field.

Worst of all was the fact this wasn't even Hamato's main response to the massed fighter attacks. He was holding several hundred squadrons of Tiger Furies ready to pounce the second the Dilgar crossed the frontlines, and then a few dozen squadrons of Nova Furies to take on particularly troublesome units and protect the vulnerable Dreadnoughts from the nimble enemies.

It only took Ari'shan and his unit a few seconds to pass the killing zone, and luckily his squad mates were well versed enough to come through intact. Many more were not.

"Fighters." Officer Car'nal announced flatly, he didn't have to elaborate.

Ari'shan focused on the incoming craft, picking out one and receiving a detailed scan. It was an older model craft, codenamed 'Tiger' by the humans in reference to a large feline predator from their homeworld. The irony was not lost on the Dilgar pilot or his Warmaster. Never the less, these craft would prove a challenge for most Dilgar pilots and were more or less equal in abilities to a Thorun. They could not afford to ignore them.

"Knight Squad…" Ari'shan had to halt himself, that unit no longer existed. He swallowed his bitterness and tried again. "Dagger Squadron, take point and engage. Use caution and watch for the newer fighters, the humans are keeping them in reserve."

The elite fighters peeled off, coloured green and blue to distinguish them from their more common brothers and sisters. The strike fighters and the other escorts remained on target for the Dreadnought line, still dodging the frequent bursts of interceptor fire from the escort ships.

Ari'shan sought his targets, looking for one or two craft that could be separated from the main body and engaged individually. He needed this single combat, not just because his code of honour demanded it but because he wanted to get a good sense of how skilled these humans were individually. He had seen first hand how deadly they could be, but he had to know how much of that was down to the fighter and how much to the pilot.

He also needed on a deeper level to assure himself he was still the skilled pilot everyone told him he was. The defeat in the earlier battle and his undignified flight back to the safety of the fleet had torpedoed his confidence more surely than any nuclear tipped missile. He had to know he was still capable of living up to his role in the fleet, and if he wasn't, if he had lost that inner purpose, then he would at least find a worthy death at the hands of an ace pilot.

He noticed a pair of Tiger Furies just far enough away to be viable for his challenge. While the main bulk of the Thorun wings made to engage the Tigers enmasse, Ari pulled up in front of the two isolated fighters, a clear challenge for the two humans and one which was accepted without hesitation. Ari'shan smiled appreciatively as the human craft spaced out and closed for the kill, a swift and fluid change of formation changing from cautious to aggressive in a heartbeat. Just by watching the minute alterations in orientation and speed he could tell a lot about the pilots of the craft, and he approved of their training and attitude.

The Tigers held their fire until almost the last moment, then engaged in unison releasing rapid bursts of blue pulse fire Ari had to act fast, twisting hard into a tight roll allowing the two volleys to pass close on either side of his fighter. He accelerated between the two craft with barely enough space to squeeze through before side spinning to bring his own guns to bear.

With satisfaction he saw the humans were doing the exact same thing, back flipping to engage the enemy now behind them, but in this instance Ari was the faster and had his guns in position first. He didn't bother waiting for a lock, at this range it didn't matter and as a rule he preferred to fire on instinct anyway. His bolt cannons smashed their way through the closest Tiger, requiring no less than six direct hits to actually destroy the craft. Most of the time he only needed two. He did not pause to celebrate, dashing behind the fading cloud of fiery gas before the second Fury could blow him out of the sky it turn.

The manoeuvre had been an extreme one even by Ari'shans standards and had strained his fighter to its limits, an average Dilgar pilot would probably not have made it. The second human obviously appreciated this and quickly realised he was dealing with an especially dangerous opponent. He therefore decided not to risk a gun duel with this alien ace, or even to take a chance on a single missile. Instead he simultaneously launched all four of his anti fighter missiles at virtual point blank range all but guaranteeing a kill.

Ari'shan reacted instantly, rolling hard and firing on the deadly darts. He destroyed two with bolt fire as the closed but then had to bank hard to clear away the other two. Behind him the silver streaks made a sharp turn and headed back his way with unerring accuracy forcing the Dilgar pilot to push his fighter to its maximum acceleration

His every muscle protested in painful anger as he twisted and turned at full thrust, the forces pressing back on him immense and increasingly deadly. The missiles were still gaining, and Ari was forced to put extra power in his countermeasure package to try and fool the tracking weapons guidance. He watched in desperate hope as the closest missile vanished under his field of vision, waited two seconds until it was right on top of him, then twisted hard to the left blurring his vision in the process. He was awake enough to spot the blue missile exhaust streaking past in front of his Thorun and followed it with a brief salvo from his guns, destroying it.

One missile remained, and it too was getting closer. Ari threw the fighter into ever tighter turns, none of them shaking the device. The onboard computer seemed to have filtered out his ECM, or even worse was using it to track him. Ari made a desperate decision, he went against all his training and switched off the ECM system, then rolled over in a long barrel turn keeping a watch on the missile.

It seemed to work, and the device wavered but still stayed close, drawing up along side him just feet from his cockpit. It was close enough for the Dilgar to read the warning labels on the side and a chalked on message stating 'Take me to your Leader' along with a grinning skull. If he slowed the missile would collide with him side on, if he tried to accelerate of turn it would be back on his tail and he couldn't keep up this evasion much longer. In a last act he dipped his wing, inched closer, then rolled in the opposite direction. His wingtip engine curved up and struck the Earth Missile, breaking it in two and luckily for him not triggering the warhead.

He eased back on the throttle, looking on his scanners for the Tiger that had fired on him, but his high speed evasion had left it miles behind and it had since vanished into the melee of close range dogfighting around the human ships.

"Dagger Leader, are you intact?"

He recognized the concerned voice of his second in command.

"Fine Car'nal, status?"

"We've skirted the thickest fighting with the strike wings, very soon we'll be in position to attack a warship."

Ari nodded to himself, that promised to be spectacular. "I've picked a Dreadnought to engage, first we must deal with the escorts."

"What can we expect?"

"The Dreadnought itself has scant fighter defenses, strictly anti ship weapons." He relayed Jha'dur's analysis. But we'll have to disable a Corvette to run in on its flanks, and it will have at least two fighter squadrons in its company. Top of the line Starfuries."

"Those would be its fighter defence then." Car'nal huffed grimly.

"We will disable the Corvettes guns, then keep the fighters busy until the Strike wing can engage."

"Very well Dagger leader." The other Dilgar intoned. "Who knows, we might even live through this!"

"We just might." Ari returned with a chuckle. "I am heading in to join you, Death or Glory Car'nal."

"Death or Glory." The other officer intoned. It wasn't much to choose from, but as Ari'shans confidence returned he found once again that they were the only choices that mattered.

EAS Nemesis

"Turning into quite a party."

As usual Captain Tennant was right, the leading elements of both fleets were heavily engaged in a wall of blazing fire stretching for well over a thousand miles in every direction. The tide of fighting was getting closer to the Dreadnoughts as Dilgar fighters began to trickle past the front line Corvettes and the main Earth Force fighter groups. Still, Commander Anderson wasn't too worried as the heavy battleline was protected by yet more Corvettes and the cream of Earths fighter corps, the Nova squadrons.

"We're entering firing range very soon." The First Officer stated.

"We have orders to open fire with the bow batteries when ready." Tennant stated. "Gunnery deck, lock and load."

The multiple heavy guns of the Nemesis were all entirely automated, thickly armoured turrets crammed with machinery needed to move the truly vast guns, each barrel made of the latest alloys weighing tens of thousands of tons each. To make them move at a speed that was even vaguely useful massive gears and engines had to be installed further increasing the size of the turret and in turn the size of the Dreadnought itself in order to support this arsenal.

The forward guns now slowly roused from their slumber and angled downwards toward the still distant battle. It would be a shot at extreme range but with the simple number of guns at Tennant's disposal something would probably hit.

Eight separate beams fired from the Dreadnough, two of which found their mark and burned through the upper hull of a Dilgar cruiser. The two glowing wounds did not destroy the ship but caused enough damage to make it an easy kill for any other nearer Earth ship.

"Well done guns, I'll promise one shot of hard liquour for every ship we nail once we get back." The Captain announced. "In fact, if you nail me a Dilgar Dreadnought I'll buy you a whole damn crate! Happy hunting."

"That might get expensive sir." Anderson warned.

"Not if we steal the booze from the Army." Tennant grinned widely. "Now keep tabs on those enemy fighters, I'd hate to be nuked today, this is just way too cool to miss the end of."

The Earth Force warships maintained a steady fire, mixed batteries hurled a variety of projectiles down range into the waiting hulls of the Dilgar fleet, who were only happy to return the favour. While the interceptors were doing sterling work they were not perfect and in addition to degrading over time they were also simply not fast enough to catch laser fire received from the larger Dilgar ships.

Several Earth Force cruisers were falling out of formation with heavy damage, some on fire and out of control drifting behind the main fighting while others still had enough power to limp towards the reserve line. Dozens of Corvettes and Frigates had followed them, cut to pieces by heavy fire or shattered by intense fighter strikes saturating their defences with missiles. While the armour piercing warheads so deadly to the League proved far less effective against the much stronger human armour they still caused heavy damage and in enough numbers would still bring down their targets.

But for every burning Earth Force ship the Dilgar lost several of their own ships, their leading formations torn ragged by Plasma cannons and rail guns. The Third line fleet was taking a beating from the human forces, the Hyperion class ships almost matching Dilgar Dreadnoughts in terms of raw firepower and capable of duelling with the best the Dilgar fleet had to throw at them. Hamato's cruisers were doing their job, slowing down the Dilgar and holding them in check while the hammer was raised for the main strike, the Dreadnoughts of the combined EA fleets.

Ari'shan forced himself not to wince as the fighter to his left exploded in front of him bouncing wreckage from his nose cone. He swerved to avoid the flaming main engine of the hapless victim and stayed focused on the human Corvette currently chewing its way through three squadrons of Thoruns.

"Don't bunch up!" Ari shouted in excitement and adrenalin, the interceptor fire crossing his path dangerously close, sweeping rapidly from side to side and catching another inexperienced pilot. "Ignore the heavy weapons, just take out the four interceptors!"

Earth Force called its Olympus class vessels Corvettes, but in terms of size and combat ability it was a Destroyer by Dilgar and League standards with a good mix of weaponry including interceptors, plasma cannons, rail guns and missiles. The fact Earth was happy to use such a potent vessel as a mere escort spoke volumes about the abilities of the larger ships that were being used as ship killers. The grey block rapidly dominated Ari'shan's view, obscuring the even more ugly and larger Dreadnought in the distance this corvette was assigned to protect.

"Dagger Lead!" A panicked voice rang out. "Starfuries high! Star …" The message died with the messenger, heralding the Dreadnought's fighter support entering the battle.

He put it out of his mind, he still had a few seconds and had to focus on the task in hand. His guns wouldn't pierce the turret armour on the warship but if he got close enough he could hit the turret ring or gun elevation mechanism, jamming the turret and making the interceptor virtually useless. It was an insanely tough target, but it meant the strike wing didn't need to waste valuable missiles neutralising an escort and instead keep them for the main target.

He performed a final turn, getting in close enough so the interceptors couldn't depress any lower to hit him, then popped up just before he became a dirty smear on the grey hull and strafed the turret as he passed, his surviving Dagger squadron colleagues doing the same. The results were far from spectacular, no great pillars of flame or turrets blown from the hull, but they did it and managed to jam the interceptors. As a last act of defiance the Corvette nailed one of the passing strike craft with a rail gun round six times bigger than the Thorun itself.

"Strike squadron, begin your attack run." Ari'shan ordered. "All other fighters, break and engage enemy Starfuries immediately, keep them from the bombers!"

The two Dilgar elements went their separate ways with the Bombers heading for the ship and the clean Thoruns pulling hard up to support their colleagues. The Bombers themselves were simply Thoruns armed with missiles, the Dilgar had also deployed the Thoruns predecessor, the Stinger, as a missile hauler to strike Earth Force capital ships but so far not one of the older Dilgar craft had made it past the initial interceptor screen. Ari'shan thanked the gods his Warmaster had pushed for a new and exceptional fighter to replace the unremarkable Stinger, otherwise they wouldn't have had a prayer.

While the Thorun was a much better fighter it was still going to have a hard time as a dozen cross winged Starfuries dropped from above and engaged. As Ari had expected they were the new type Nova Furies and had already minced two rear guard squadrons covering Dagger squads back.

"Death or Glory." Ari'shan repeated quietly and started picking targets.

"I don't know how they did it but those little bastards jammed my interceptors!"

Sinclair held a perfectly straight and even face, despite being rather annoyed.

"Understood Hudson." He replied to the Corvette. "We'll pick it up from here, just keep a watch for further squadrons and warn us if we're going to be getting more company."

"No problem Commander, kick some butt for us."

Sinclair ended the message and switched to his squadron frequency, kicking butt was after all why they were here. "Alright Ghosts, they've shot up the Hudson so now its just us and the Banshees covering Nemesis."

The two squadrons of Furies were holding different positions, with the Banshee's able to intercept the Dilgar head on while Sinclair's squadron would be diving down from above and behind.

"Lets go by the numbers." He ordered. "Pair off and give them the drop, I want this done fast. Don't dither on the fighters, kill them, break through and take the bombers. We'll mop up the rest after we've kept the Nemesis in fighting shape."

The Starfury squadron moved swiftly into position and accelerated, taking a loose covering formation as they headed for the fight. Banshee squadron was already engaging and doing rather well.

"Hague, still with me?"

"Yes sir." The new pilot confirmed, still sounding slightly nervous despite earning his first kill in the last mission.

"Stick to me like glue, we're outnumbered but not outclassed." Ahead the rearmost Thorun group came into view. "All fighters break and attack."

Preceded by a rain of blue plasma the Ghost Riders thundered into battle, erupting fireballs lighting their way as Dilgar fighters crumbled before their guns. The alien fighters turned to engage, but in the time it took for them to spin about several more had fallen to the accurate fire of Sinclair's squadron. The red chevroned Squadron Leader managed two long range kills before the Furies dropped in and amongst the Dilgar wing and began the twisting and turning dance they were trained for, running rings around the less agile Thoruns and decimating the unit.

"Watch out Ghosts, fresh fighters doubling back your way!" The comms officer on the EAS Hudson barked a warning.

"Pick up your scans!" Sinclair warned, whipping past a Thorun and looping beneath it, making a full hundred and eighty degree turn in the same time it took for his target to turn a mere ninety degrees. A second later it joined the cooling wreckage of its squad mates.

"Got 'em." Lieutenant April Green announced triumphantly. "Twenty Bandits, six by eleven."

The hard looking Earth Force fighters quickly polished off the remaining Thoruns and turned to face the new threat, the seemingly naïve pilots they had just dispatched offering little challenge. Based on the more relaxed formation and easy movement of the new craft these next Dilgar looked like veterans.

"Get in close and take them." Sinclair ordered. "Wingmen, don't go glory hunting, watch your leader."

The new Dilgar squadrons checked their advance, made a few sharp manoeuvres to clear themselves of the human guns and then opened fire. At this range it didn't do them much good and the Ghosts had plenty of time to dodge the streams of bolt fire before shooting back, driving the Dilgar formation apart as they took evasive action.

The Starfuries crossed the distance in a few seconds, spinning rapidly as they mingled with the Dilgar forces and started hunting down their opponents. The first of the new Thorns exploded as April found a target followed by more members of the squadron. Sinclair spotted a fighter racing for him head on, firing from its wing mounted guns. With utter cool Sinclair methodically lined up his guns, jinked slightly to avoid a particularly close shot, then shredded the Dilgar fighter with a single shot.

He became aware of Hague performing a turn behind him and bringing down a Thorun that was trying to get in position to shoot Sinclair in the back. The young pilot was doing well despite his inexperience, fighting the Dilgar was truly bringing out the best in him.

He checked his sensor display and noted the Dilgar fighters were being whittled down fast, they had the situation in hand.

"April, take your buddy and go for the Bombers, I see one Squadron that will outrun the Banshees."

"Got it Commander." The Dutch woman answered.

"Everyone else finish these fighters and standby."

Sinclair watched in pride as Lieutenant Green took her fighter marked with a male angel past his canopy and rolled into position, moments later her wingman following. With a suddenness that took even Sinclair by surprise the second Fury exploded in blue and white light, a Dilgar fighter passing through the fireball and vanihing overhead.

Sinclair immediately asked himself how the fighter had made it this close, probably using a fellow craft as cover, but it was the markings as it flashed by that gripped him. It was the same black and red fighter that had evaded him last time, he could even see the streaks on its hull from his own near misses.

"Holy…" Hague cried out. "He's going overhead, engaging!"

Hague flipped his fighter to track the Thorun stitching space with a constant stream of pulse fire always just too late to hit the dart.

Sinclair had a quick decision to make, they had to get those bombers but at the same time he couldn't leave this fighter out here to do as it pleased, based on the last meeting this Dilgar was far too good to have flying around unchecked.

"Hague, break left now!"

The pilot did so without question, a dogfight was no place to pause and ask questions. As he did so Sinclair spun around and fired, his shots narrowly missing Hague as the Dilgar ace returned fire, shots that would have destroyed hague's fighter without Sinclairs intervention. The Dilgar turned away from Sinclair's volley and looped around for another pass.

"Hague, you're Aprils wing man now!" Sinclair commanded, throttling up and away. "Get those bombers!"

"Commander, You can't…"

"Go, now!" He demanded. "This one's mine, now move!"

The still unadorned fighter rolled away and jetted off after the female lead, the rest of the squadron still busy handling the excess Dilgar fighters left by the Corvette and Banshee squadron. The Dilgar Daggers were giving them a hard time, but they were mostly fighting defensively and the Ghosts were winning despite the odds.

Sinclair watched his own target coming round, seeing the canopy tilted his way.

"Remember me?" he asked to the distant enemy. "Course you do, that's why you haven't gone after my two buddies, and you're not going to."

He slowed the Starfury to a coast, noticing the Dilgar pilot did the same and approached in a neutral posture, neither attacking nor evading.

"You must be someone special, black fighter." Sinclair held his gaze. "Little Dilgar celebrity? Well you've got some skill, time to see how much."

He turned to face the Dartfighter, both craft staring at each other with weapons primed. Sinclair could just about see the other pilot, noticed him raise a hand in a sort of silent acknowledgement that this would be a contest between just the two of them.

"Fine by me." Sinclair raised his hand in return. "In for a penny…" he relaxed, hauled the controls hard to the left and began firing for all he was worth.

"Just be careful." April cautioned. "They're armed with anti ship missiles but under that they are still fighters."

William Hague kept his breathing in check as the pair lined up on a squadron of attack craft burning for the Nemesis at full throttle. Usually the average Thorun would outpace a Starfury in short order, but the two missiles each craft carried was adding a lot of weight to the vehicle and straining the engines.

"You think the Commander is alright?" he asked.

"It's 'Shoot 'em' Sinclair, he's probably already won." April replied. "Just watch these guys, we've only got a minute before they hit the Dreadnought."

The two Furies moved into range and at once destroyed the leading strike craft, to their right Banshee squadron was massacring two more squadrons of strike craft with contemptuous ease while hundreds more fighters kept themselves busy in the skies around and between fleets. The strike craft began to make some evasive moves, but there was nothing much they could do laden down with their heavy missiles. The two Human fighters dove amongst them, turning left and right in the middle of the Dilgar formation and surrounding themselves with burning craft.

Hague avoided a large chunk of twisted metal falling from his latest kill and fell in alongside another target. This fighter however had gotten the message and jettisoned its heavy weapons, going from bomber to fighter in the flick of a switch. Unladen it turned into a much greater challenge and at once snapped around and began trying to shoot down the human fighter.

Reverting to his training Hague jinked out of the way, keeping his eyes on the close by hostile and predicting its moves. He saw the Dilbar fire thrusters and begin to drop its nose to track him, so in a move that wasn't in any manual Hague slid his fighter under the Thorun with its guns pointed up and put three rounds in its belly before skirting past and avoiding the detonation.

"Did you see that?" Hague grinned. "I'm going to call that one the 'Elvis' manoeuvre."

"When you're done, we've still got four left!" April snapped. "Anytime Bill!"

Suitably chastised he threw the fighter around and raced back into action, noticing April had already reduced their tally to three remaining enemies. They were by now very close to the Nemesis and Hague was quite surprised they hadn't launched their missiles, perhaps hoping for a guaranteed hit at close range.

April fired again, striking another but this time a piece of wreckage clipped her engine sending her spinning out of control. She recovered quickly, but lost valuable distance in the time letting the two last Dilgar extend their lead beyond effective range.

Hague was still just in range, firing almost blind at the distant craft. He actually managed to hit one, blasting away a wing and sending it out of control to vanish into the vastness of the space. But the final fighter was just too far away to catch, it launched missiles then turned away.

"Contact missiles!" Commander Anderson warned. "Two tracks at one three three mark zero one zero! Range four miles!"

Tennant gripped his chair, far too close for the lumbering battleship to even start evasive action.

"All hands brace for impact! Standby damage control, this is going to hurt!"

The two missiles hit almost as soon as the alarms rang out, fortunately most of the crew were already at action stations and only had to grab hold of something nearby and solid. Both devices hit near the engines, their armour piercing nose cones flattening harmlessly against the immense thickness of plates protecting the flank of the heavy warship. The impact did not however prevent the warheads from detonating and twin balls of intense light engulfed the side of the warship, pushing its stern a couple of hundred feet sideways.

Onboard the ship shook like a blender, lighting went out and fuses burst across the vessel as power surges coursed through cables and conduits. Each crew member held on tight for the few seconds of violent noise and movement before things turned silent and dark. A moment of quiet breathlessness filled the dark ship before emergency lighting kicked in.

"Switch those breakers now!" Tennant ordered. "Get me back in control of this beast!"

The various department heads went to their control panels and began activating alternate circuits, bringing light and life rapidly back to the bridge.

"Well we're not dead." Tennant announced. "What happened?"

"According to initial reports, not much." Anderson frowned. "Main power was interrupted but the reactors are fine, engines still burning, minor hull damage in the uninhabited areas at the stern."

The Captain clapped his hands and rubbed them palm to palm. "I love this ship you know? I really do. Forward batteries, how are we doing?"

"Just waiting for the capacitors to recharge, few seconds sir."

"Very good guns, continue firing on targets of opportunity when ready." Tennant ordered. "Show them it'll take more than a couple of tiny nukes to stop us!"

In addition to the Nemesis the other Dreadnoughts of the Earth fleet were by now in range and firing as they continued to approach. They could still only bring their front guns to bear, but even that fraction of their potential firepower was greater than the full weapon loads on most Dilgar ships.

The Dilgar advance, which was already slowing, now came to a true halt as the added firepower of the heavy ships tore apart ship after ship from the Third Dilgar fleet of the Line. Casualties stacked up immensely, the Dilgar vessels falling apart horrifically fast as their mass produced hulls failed to stand up to the intense close range slaughter. The return fire from the Dilgar began to drop away to nothing as most vessels simply vanished in a storm of laser and plasma fire before even getting a chance to shoot.

"Now that is what I mean when I ask for a concentration of fire." Jha'dur announced in admiration. Despite herself and despite the ever increasing losses to her command she couldn't help but be awed by the staggering display of timing and brute force dominating the battle field.

"Third line fleet is losing ships very rapidly." An'Jash reported with a hard edge to her voice. "Approximately five percent every minute."

"That will increase when the Human Dreadnoughts cross among them and unmask their broadsides." The Warmaster noted. "Still, they have done their job. They have drawn the two groups of human ships together, the Dreadnoughts started off behind the frontline, now they are in range of our Strike Fleets."

"And we are in range of them." An'jash added.

"So they've got us right where we want them." Jha'dur chuckled slightly at the play on words. "It's time. Send the orders to Second Strike fleet, advance and engage the enemy Cruiser line. They are powerful ships, urge my brother to be bold but cautious."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Then signal this Strike Fleet to advance at full speed under the lower flank, bypass the cruisers and strike the Dreadnought groups from below. We separate their little taskforces and destroy them in detail."

Upon her orders the two main Dilgar fleets made their move, Sha'dur accelerating his ships through the failing screen of the Line fleet and his sister skirting the worst fighting on her own path. The crews in these ships did not feel a great passion at driving into battle as many Dilgar would, they were as cold and calculating as machines. They would still revel in the death of their enemies and toast victory, but not while they were actually engaged. It was probably Jha'dur's greatest achievement as a Command level officer, the creation of this focused and unfeeling weapon of war and all its success that grew from it.

She sat restlessly in her chair, willing the seconds away as her forces covered the empty distance and closed on the human forces. This was the crunch event, the principal exchange of gunfire and blood that would test the mettle of both fleets. Earth Force had fought strongly but so far unimaginatively in Jha'dur's opinion. She had to admit to being slightly disappointed by the boring and formulaic tactics and deployments the human ships had taken. How they reacted to this sudden turn of events and the immense threat of being outflanked by a thousand prime warships would confirm whether or not humanity was a worthy opponent and a threat to be dealt with, or just a well equipped but ultimately pointless race.

She suspected the former more than the latter and she was more than a little apprehensive as she raced for the grey wall of human vessels, but this was no place for being timid and hanging back. The Line fleet had shown that the Dilgar couldn't beat the massed guns of Earth Force in a straight duel, they were just outclassed, plain and simple. This was the only way to divide the human firepower and in so doing overwhelm them.

It was a gamble, it relied on the humans not reacting fast enough to redress their lines either through incompetence or more likely through the sluggishness of the human warships. The humans were good, but the Dilgar were better, of that Jha'dur was certain.

"Into the fire." She smiled slightly. The next minutes could well decide the fate of her species.

EAS Hannibal

It took Francis barely three seconds to translate the message, going from garbled and nonsensical words and beeps to a clear and crisp set of orders in English that had come from Warmaster Jha'dur in person. The EIA agent had the orders up on his screen even before the less efficient Dilgar decoders had those same orders translated and delivered to their intented reciepients. The beauty of the situation still made his nearby companion Agent Sakai grin with mischief.

"New orders!" Francis called out as instructed, his voice unnaturally loud in the enclosed and quiet command room of the flagship. "Dilgar fleets are moving in, Second strike is coming in dead ahead, First Strike around the lower flank!"

Hamato accepted the information without much in the way of acknowledgement, just a brief nod. He already knew the basic Dilgar plan and had planned appropriately, his great concern was if Jha'dur threw in one of her little flourishes, a last minute change of plan, that he wouldn't be able to react in time. \For the moment at least everything was proceeding as the intelligence intercepts had suggested.

"Time to move the fleet." He announced, activating his ships large communication suite. "Fleet command to Dreadnought groups, adjust position five hundred miles on the Z-Axis. Alter orientation and standby broadside fire."

This was going to be an extremely difficult strategy to implement correctly, a shuffling of forces that only the Dilgar fleet could realistically match, the level of complexity and coordination involved in rearranging so many ships so precisely was beyond the training of most navies. It also stretched his forces dangerously thin, something Jha'dur was no doubt counting on for success.

At the moment the Cruiser groups were holding their own against the regular ships of the Dilgar Line fleet, and with some Dreadnought support were shredding their opponents. But in a minute or so they would come under heavy attack from the elite Second Strike fleet, a huge number of high quality ships that would really test the abilities of the human ships and crews. Even worse he was also removing their Dreadnought support at the same time to face Jha'dur directly.

His cruisers were about to be pushed to the very limits of their skill and endurance, and his Dreadnoughts weren't going to be much better off.

"If only the League had held on a few months more." Jenny lamented. "Then we could have hit the Dilgar with six fleets instead of four."

"Means we wouldn't have to shift back and forth like this." Francis guessed. "This is really balancing on a knife edge."

Hamato had to beat Jha'dur and drive her back before his Cruisers were overrun by the huge numbers the Dilgar were throwing at them. The Admiral had a reputation as a lucky commander, today he really needed it.

The Dreadnoughts dipped behind the Cruiser force and began to deploy to meet the flanking attack, using the intense battle at the front of the two forces to mask their change in formation and hopefully catch the Warmaster by surprise. The whole force of grim and dull warships sunk like sharks beneath the waves, all except one.

"Commander, please tell me why we aren't following the fleet?"

Anderson shook his head. "I don't understand, all the boards are green! We should be altering course!"

Tennant held the officer in his dark gaze. "Not to put too fine a point on it Commander, but I'd say something somewhere had gotten seriously screwed up."

That was an understatement, while the rest of the Dreadnought groups were moving in unison the Nemesis was proceeding dead ahead at full acceleration now with no actual support.

"Those Nukes must have hurt us more than we guessed." Anderson ran a theory. "The internal sensors must have been hit too, we wouldn't even know we were until trouble."

"Until now." The Captain grunted. "So they broke the bit of my ship that tells me other bits of my ship are broken? Oh, that's just great."

"Sir, fleet command is repeating its order for us to adjust course." The Communication officer said with some dread.

"Let them know we've taken damage to the control systems and we are working to restore." Tennant announced. "Engine room, come in."

"Engine room." A male voice answered from deep in the machinery dominated rear of the ship.

"Briefly, how bad is it?"

"We didn't spot it at first because nothing fell off or exploded." The Engineer said. "But our throttles are jammed wide open and the fuel lines are locked, meaning we can't slow down or cut the drives without killing the main reactor."

"Secondary thrusters?"

"Also out of action." He replied. "Those hits caught us in just the wrong place."

"Well I've got bad news, we're about to cross the area of heaviest fighting unless we slow down or turn around." Tennant said flatly. "And if we survive that then we get to fly straight through the middle of the Dilgar Navy. Then we hit a moon. So I strongly suggest you find a way to slow us down, regain control or just turn us around. Fast."

"Aye sir."

"So stop talking to me and get going." Tennant said and closed the channel.

"Should we kill the reactor?" Anderson asked from his station.

"And leave us dead in space, blind and defenceless with Dilgar everywhere? Nah, its suicide."

"SO is taking a cruise through all those ships."

"But at least we'll take them down with us." Tennant remarked. "Besides, it won't happen. Have some faith Commander, I've got my skirt on."

Anderson wisely kept his mouth shut, so far the enchanted piece of tribal wear had not performed to expectations. "Gun batteries still powered and ready."

"Keep firing then, I get a feeling we're going to be attracting a lot of company."

EAS Hannibal

"What's she doing?" Francis asked with a frown, the single blue dot on the forward tactical display leaving the safety of the Earth Force protective screen.

"She's out of control." Jenny responded sombrely, watching hawkishly herself as the computer rendered vessel moved further away from her sisters. She could only imagine the frantic work going on throughout the ship to try and divert disaster.

"New signals." Francis broke the conversation. "The Dilgar have seen the Nemesis, looks like they're going to try and intercept her."

"Poor bastards." Jenny sighed quietly.

"Thank you Agent O'Leary." Was Hamato's only response. "Commander, time to target?"

"Second Strike Fleet will hit our cruisers in twenty seconds, First Strike will cross behind them in Fifty."

"Then we must brace our crews and ships for the attack, weather this initial storm then counter attack with overwhelming firepower."

"And the Nemesis sir?" Commander Patel asked in a heavy voice.

"I can't spare a single ship from our main force to help her." The regret was subtle but obvious in the guarded Japanese officer.

"So she's on her own." Patel grimaced sadly.

"No, not alone." Hamato said sternly. "Make sure her squadrons stay close, if they can prevent bomber strikes the Nemesis can tear apart any ship stupid enough to face her alone, and looking at how hard the Dilgar are about to hit our lines she'll only have stragglers to worry about."

"Very well sir." Patel confirmed.

"Second Strike fleet in range." Francis called out, feeling frightened but oddly in control as he read through the status reports and orders from the enemy ships. "They're opening fire."

"Lets hope the Cruisers can hold long enough for us to give Jha'dur a beating." Hamato intoned. "If they break we'll be overwhelmed, and all the ships in Earth Force won't help us then."

He let his gaze linger for one moment longer on the Nemesis icon as she crossed beyond the human frontline still at full thrust.

"And may God help you Captain."

Warmaster Jha'dur took her ships into battle like a warrior of antiquity, a blurring race of heavy vessels and some scattered fighters charging headlong towards their enemies with abandon. It was like a cavalry assault only instead of equines the warriors of Omelos were raging into battle on mounts of steel and nuclear reactors.They passed the bedraggled Line fleet without slowing, every gun blazing as they screamed in at the Earth Forces with many crew members howling cries at the distant and deaf enemies. While the Strike Fleet was a fierce weapon they didn't have the same level of discipline as Jha'dur or Dar'sen instilled in their commands. Still, they were fearsome and skilled warriors with an excellent record.

Any League fleet faced with this tide would have made preparations to meet their gods. Some would have simply broken before the thousand hurtling ships, others accepted their fate and resolved to go to their deaths all guns blazing. They would not have expected to win, just like the Dilgar did not expect to lose.

But this was no League fleet, and completely unimpressed by the display of light and fury the Earth Force gunners laid their guns on new targets and commenced fire, releasing their own warm welcome for the Second Strike fleet to thunder straight into.

The Dilgar took the barrage without flinching, even though the blue plasma tore the leading ships into ruin separating thousands of tons of metal sections from each other and ripping vessels and crews out of the sky the following ships did not slow or break away. Individually the Hyperions would have been difficult opponents, but operating in unison aided by escorts they were able to lay down a blanket of rapid fire that caused tremendous losses to both the advancing Strike fleet and the slower moving but still engaged Line fleet.

As the guns of the Cruiser line hammered again and again Artemis class Rail gun Frigates dove forward in wolf packs of three or four and spread a few rounds of pin point fire through the enemy forces before ducking back into cover of the bigger ships, regrouping and attacking again.

The Frigates took the Dilgar by surprise, it was almost unthinkable such a massive assault could be answered by smaller localised assaults, but the moments of shock aside the Dilgar did not slow down. Ships fell out of formation as rail gun rounds passed clean through, their passage folding the hull armour like a rip in paper. Other ships crumpled as their hulls were driven in before rupturing, screwed up truncated tangles of burning metal advertising what Earth Force was capable of doing to any ship that dared follow.

The Dilgar took that dare, and while they were getting blasted to scrap they were also making up ground and the closer they got the more their own guns began to take their toll on the thickly armoured human vessels.

"Clear the way!" April Green snapped. "Bloody hell Bill, don't cross the Nemesis' guns!"

Hague dropped his fighter rapidly, burning his dorsal thrusters to fall like an elevator beneath the broadside arcs of the monolithic warship he was busy protecting. In the same few moments another shock of laser beams flashed from nowhere, stretching thousands of miles in the blink of an eye and dicing a Dilgar Frigate that foolishly wandered too close the Earth Force Dreadnought.

"She won't hold fire just because you're in the way Bill." April continued the warning. "Just watch yourself."

It was perhaps the fourth near death experience Hague had endured these last few minutes, and judging by the calls of his colleagues that was probably below average. Two members of the squadron had been killed in action so far with three more in their sister squadron, the Banshees. Hague hadn't really known the dead men, he was still only a few weeks in the squadron and hadn't settled properly yet, but the thought that now he never would know those men was uncomfortable. He couldn't help but think briefly that the half dozen people he'd shot down had robbed someone of friends and family too.

Thoughts like that didn't last long, usually because he had to avoid becoming a statistic himself. The space around the Dreadnought was alive with battle, the Dilgar had clearly scented blood and wanted to finish this ship. They swarmed forward intent on dragging down the proud warship, seeing what it would take to finally destroy the formidable human gun wagon.

Between the blasts from the heavy guns of the warship the survivors of the two Starfury squadrons were battling desperately against large numbers of Dilgar Thoruns swarming ahead to wittle away the Dreadnoughts guns. It was just wall to wall dodge and fire, dodge and fire. Hague had no idea where he was or what the hell was going on, all he could see was April and the flashes of passing Dilgar fighters which he tried to bring down. How successful he was would have to wait until he had a chance to examine the gun camera footage, assuming he lived that long.

April swooped over the flaming fuselage of one more Dart Fighter, with Hague following close on. As Wingman his one job was to stick to her and keep her covered while she hunted down priority targets. There was a thick black scar on one of her thrusters from a grazing impact but nothing lasting and she was speeding and sliding through the sky like a demon, a trail of fractured dart fighters behind her.

Hague didn't have a chance to try and see what had happened to Sinclair, in those few stolen seconds between combat manoeuvres he saw the Commanders transponder was still active so he must have been still fighting nearby, but the rest of the squadron was too busy by far to send just one fighter to aid him. April had taken up the role of squadron leader in his absence and was doing a sterling job, keeping the unit moving and always engaging the biggest threat at the best time. So far they had kept the Dreadnought from further damage, but the effort was incredibly taxing and showing no signs of letting up.

The computer beeped him a warning, the wire frame image of a Thorun slotting in behind him.

"Bandit on six! Break! Break! Break!"

April immediately pivoted hard on her lower right engine, Hague matching in perfect unison so the two craft seemed to move as one. In the same instant he rotated the heavy fighter and burned his retro thrusters, essentially flying backwards to bring his guns on the enemy chasing them.

"Two more dead ahead!" April warned. "Ah hell, just kill 'em Bill!"

Hague had decided to do just that, his twin pulse cannons pivoting slightly to achieve a clean lock on the green and grey trident accelerating his way. In the same instant April facing the other way opened up and more craft in the opposite direction. The two human fighters were back to back mere feet from each other guns blazing in opposite directions as they continued moving, a display of precision flying rarely equalled outside Earth Force.

Hague caught the Thorun moments before it fired, striking it cleanly in the centre and obliterating it, just the two wing tip engines surviving intact. Behind him April added two more to her tally, proving conclusively why Sinclair had made her his second.

"Good shot Bill." She allowed. "Back in position, we've got more on the way."

"Confirmed." Hague replied. "And the Fun keeps on coming."

EAS Nemesis.

"The bad news is we just crossed our lines, technically we're in no mans land now." Commander Anderson reported.

"And the good news?" Captain Tennant asked.

"Good News…?" Anderson shrugged in apologetic resignation.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

The lights flickered slightly as the engineering crew tried to get something to work, but so far the ship was still locked on its suicidal course through the enemy fleet.

"Remind me why we have an engineering crew." The big Maori questioned. "It is so that when stuff gets crapped up we can fix it right? I mean that is their job? Fix it?"

"I'm sure their working on it sir."

"Contact, multiple warships closing fast!" The sensor operator barked out suddenly. "All along the forward arc!"

"Well guess we better put our game faces on." The Captain intoned, the veneer of humour departing rapidly as business beckoned. Tennant had long believed that lightning the mood on the ship helped win battles, but to all things there was a time and right now his crew needed to be totally focused on combat.

"Two cruisers coming into range, They've got Frigates running interference." Anderson reported.

"Bow batteries one through four go for the Cruisers, flank batteries nail those Frigates if you get a shot." Tennant ordered. "Make it clean, kill them and move on. Target power grids and control hubs."

Based on data recovered from across the League Earth had a good breakdown of the internal arrangements of Dilgar ships including the locations of their reactors and control centres. It hadn't done the League too much good as most vessels died before having a chance to pinpoint a particular system, but for Earth Force things were different.

"Guns primed and ready."

Tennant grinned. "Ruin someone's day."

The forward guns depressed slightly then shattered the dark with dazzling arcs of red light, crossing the fast gulf instantly and rending Dilgar armour like it didn't even exist. The multiple beams turned the unprotected insides of the cruisers to a blazing storm of molten steel and burning gas, a brief vision of hell and brimstone delivered courtesy of the Vickers/Rockwell Heavy Ordnance Corporation. There was no way the cruisers could stand up to that level of firepower, exploding from the inside out as secondary detonations broke up the remaining hull segments.

"That's a hard kill!" Anderson called in triumph. "Frigates coming in fast on the flanks!"

"All batteries, fire at anything in arc." Tennant repeated the order. "Fire at will but be ready to concentrate on my command."

The multiple turrets swung out as Dilgar ships circled the lumbering cruiser, behind and beneath it the sky burned with wrecked ships dancing bolts of high energy destruction. It was a stunning back drop largely ignored by the desperate soldiers on both sides.

The Dilgar Frigates were fast, but nowhere near fast enough to dodge laser cannons. Twin beams speared the nearest trio of ships, destroying them instantly as the computer targeting struck the vessels in exactly the weakest spot. More Dilgar light ships rolled in firing their own weapons at the Dreadnought, bright flashes of vaporised metal billowing from the side of the human cruiser as segments of armour were lost to enemy fire.

In retaliation the great guns spoke again, tracing their discharge across the paths of the sweeping Dilgar warships. A Destroyer made a high speed run, cutting a shallow ravine in the bow of the Nemesis before meeting three turrets worth of concentrated fire and vanishing in a bright cloud of blue and red ignition. Half a Frigate turned over and over as it passed the stern of the Dreadnought, a victim of the elite gun crews and another tally on the kill boards. Every gun was alive and breathing fire, the Warship like a spider sat in the middle of a web of red strands, each strand ending in a flash of fire and destruction.

And there amid the duelling giants darted the fighters, fighting hard for their lives and the lives of their friends they had been given responsibility to protect. Every second was a challenge, a moment that required a life or death decision over and over again. They followed their training, their instincts. They watched their buddies, opened up vectors to attack the enemy craft, and tried not to get stepped on by the giant bellowing death in their midst.

EAS Hannibal.

"We're running engines at a hundred and twenty percent." Commander Patel cautioned.

"We need to achieve formation in precisely eighteen seconds." Hamato said. "Run them harder, one last burst."

Reluctantly the First Officer consented, pushing the Dreadnought that last few inches necessary to get them in position. Normally the flagship would be a respectable distance from the front maintaining a distant overview and keeping out of harms way, risking its loss was not something a professional commander would do. But this was a critical situation, Hamato needed to put every single gun he could muster to Jha'dur, everything that could shoot and wasn't currently fighting for its life was deployed, arrayed and ready to fire.

"Dilgar First fleet is crossing our lines." Francis read. "They are going around our cruisers."

"As expected." Hamato nodded. "This will be our fight."

"All Dreadnoughts in position." Patel said as the deck vibrated, the sound almost drowning her words as every sinew of the metal beast strained to get into formation with her sisters. "We're ready."

"Any indication the Dilgar have seen us?"

"None sir." Francis replied. He wasn't a naval rating or officer, but felt addressing Hamato as 'Sir' was appropriate.

The Dilgar were looping around the cruiser line from below, so Hamato had deployed his Dreadnoughts in a carpet behind the cruisers and directly in front of where Jha'dur's Strike fleet was going to emerge. With the intense battle going on ahead and the blanket jamming from the Earth Force Electronic Warfare ships the Dilgar wouldn't see the Dreadnoughts until they were literally staring down their guns. Hopefully.

"In position." Patel called. "Cutting engines!"

"Station keeping, align for alpha strike." Hamato ordered. "Open the A-Arcs, prepare maximum fire on target."

The oblong ship rolled so its side was facing the expected fleet, its retro thrusters burning furiously to slow it now it had joined the line. At the same time it turned slightly off axis and swung out its guns to face the enemy, those guns on the far side of the ship turning inward to fire over the hull and between the near facing turrets.

"That's it, all guns cleared and ready to fire, with two seconds to spare!" Patel said with clear pride in her crew.

"Prepare fleetwide broadside on my order." Hamato said calmly. "Wait until the word."

Francis saw them, the first of the hornet swarm clearing the miasma of gun fire and ECM. Green insect like warships with curved mandibles that had ravaged every world and fleet across the breadth of the known galaxy. Now they were here.

"Enemy in range." He reported with finality. "Here they come."

Jha'dur was leaning forward in her chair as if by tipping her balance forward it would encourage the fleet to advance faster and faster. The edges of her fleet were catching fire from Earth Forces front line but in general they were too busy duelling her brother. The plan was proceeding smoothly and in a green river the Dilgar flowed around the shoals and obstructions on their way to engage the heart of the human force.

"Time?"

"Five seconds." An'jash said. "Still heavy jamming Warmaster."

"Inform the gun crews we may have to resort to visual aiming." Jha'dur informed. "Still, at this range it should be easy to find something to hit."

Jha'dur had to admit to slightly underestimating humans in this respect, she hadn't known an enemy to make such effective use of ECM in combat essentially blinding her and forcing her to fly in the dark. If it happened again she'd have to remember to keep a few fighter wings available for scouting, but today speed was more important and she was willing to take the risk.

Fighting the League had made her lazy, even complacent. These humans were what she needed to make her strong again and restore her edge, especially if she was going to have to fight Dilgar ships loyal to Len'char one day as seemed eminently possible.

"Clearing the enemy fleet." An'jash said hastily. "We're moving into strike positions, initial Pentacans lined up and preparing for immediate fire."

"I want them barraging the second we see something to shoot, no hesitation, no quarter."

"Yes Warmaster, orders sent."

The tactical display began clearing, the maelstrom of blurred ECM and tumultuous energy blasts fading as the ships moved clear into open space behind the wall of human cruisers expecting to see the exposed flanks and rear of the Dreadnought group.

The display did not reflect the Warmasters expectations, instead of a preoccupied and scattered fleet she saw revealed before her a slightly concave wall of heavy warships broadside on with every gun primed and pointing at her.

Across the bridge warning signals squealed into life as thousands of heavy guns locked on, more concentrated firepower than her whole fleet could equal prepared to release in a single tremendous barrage at close range right into the faces of the Dilgar ships still streaming right into the human gunsights.

"Warmaster!" An'jash cried in shock and desperation, face to face with perhaps the only thing that had ever made her lose her composure.

"Gods." Jha'dur shook her head slowly and in utter resignation. "I've killed us all."

There was nothing she could do, not a thing. The fleet could not be turned in time, she'd led them into exactly the perfect position for Earth Force to inflict maximum damage. She'd faced the worst the League could muster, ships so advanced and powerful they could have destroyed scores of her ships. None of them had ever outwitted her, none of them had somehow gotten the drop on one of her plans and turned it to their own advantage. They just weren't that good.

"Warmaster!" An'jash repeated, just as horrified. "What do we do?"

Jha'dur pivoted her head and shrugged. "Take evasive action." She ordered with no urgency at all, it didn't matter if they flew straight or tried to dodge, the sheer number of guns facing them made the point moot.

The ships began to fan out, to fire where they could or flee if possible. More ships were still coming round through the jamming with no idea what was waiting for them adding to the chaos as they tried to avoid the slowing and turning ships ahead. The neat formations were turning into a morass as bit by bit the fleet commanders and Pentacan leaders lost control.

Hamato waited a few more seconds, let them dig themselves into a slightly deeper hole and watched for any units that seemed to be regaining control. Some had already started to get back into formation as they turned, an admirable sign of skill. It wasn't however going to be enough to save them.

"All ships, all batteries, everything. Fire."

As his words filtered through the fleet the oblong blocks of ugly metal made the last tiny adjustments before opening all their final checks and balances and releasing a vast wall of laser energy. Fifteen turrets, thirty guns, two hundred and forty ships, more directed fire than had ever been released in human or Dilgar history crossed the short distance from the human lines to the milling Dilgar fleet while they were at their absolute most vulnerable.

The Nova class had a troubled development of cost overruns and Senators questioning the need for such a blatantly aggressive ship design. In that single second the unloved vessels proved in clear and uncertain times exactly what they were needed for. They did what no one else in the galaxy had ever done or could ever do, they took a full fledged assault from Warmaster Jha'dur and her finest warships and they stopped that force dead.

That first exchange cost Jha'dur a third of her fleet, more Dilgar lives were lost in that handful of seconds than in the desperate hours long battles of the Drazi front. She would have lost more had it not been for the wreckage and burning debris of the leading ships providing some macabre cover for the following units, including the Dreadnought Deathwalker.

The Earth Force ships ceased their massive volley and began to salvo fire, while tremendously effective the full alpha strikes put a lot of pressure on the reactors so for prolonged battles the Nova's were ordered to fire four turrets or so at a time. While significantly decreasing the firepower heading Jha'dur's way each of those salvos alone was still more than able of cutting down any ship in the fleet in short order.

It was with some surprise Jha'dur realised she wasn't dead, that by some chance her warship was still in one piece.

"Captain, report!"

"Sixth, seventh and Eighth Pentacans moved to cover us." An'jash was stretched over her console gathering data. "They took the hits for us."

"Fools." Jha'dur said sadly. "Brave fools, they threw away ten Dreadnoughts just to buy me a few seconds of extra life?"

"They must have thought you worth it Warmaster." An'jash said. "We must withdraw."

"Yes." Jha'dur began to fall back into her more common role, the coldness of judgement washing over her like an icy waterfall. "We can't turn under fire or slow down. We can't go through those dreadnoughts."

"So where do we go?"

"Right through the frontline." Jha'dur smiled devilishly. "Lets see them broadside their own ships! Get those orders out right now! Fate spared us for a reason, lets not give her a chance to think twice!"

Not for the first time she thanked the goddess of victory and fortune for this narrow opportunity. They had been good to her and the Dilgar in the past, they might not have abandoned her yet.

The rain of laser fire continued to claim victims as the Dilgar swung around, the Dreadnoughts tracking them as they moved. The carnage was horrific, ship following ship following ship exploded in molten violence after just a brief touch from the human weapons. For all the skills of the crew their warships were letting them down, folding and separating under the powerful human weapons. Some fired back as they fled, and of those a handful of shots brushed past the interceptors to hit the thick armour of the human ships with little effect.

Hamato had gathered almost every Dreadnought in the Navy, some were over a decade old, others were on their first cruise. Ship and crew alike were untested in the cauldron of a major battle and in this acid test they were doing their people proud. The Dilgar were fish in a barrel and the Earth Force ships simply had a field day.

"New orders!" Francis called across the bridge of the flagship, overriding the calm reports of gun locks and Dilgar casualties. "They're running!"

"Where?" Hamato replied quietly.

"Straight through our front lines sir."

Hamato had to allow a slight huff of admiration. "Damn that woman's got nerve."

For a few seconds he took in the scene, looked at the overview, ran through a handful of scenarios, then made his choice with supreme confidence.

"Comms, inform Admiral Thornhill to expect hostiles on her six. I doubt they'll stay to tangle with her but it is still a threat. Then order all ships in the Dreadnought group to advance."

"Yes sir."

"Commander, inform the Captains of our Nova contingent to assume pursuit formation and fire at will. Release the Artemis wolf packs and any unengaged battlecruisers to hunt down retreating Dilgar vessels."

"orders going out."

"She won't stop until she's cleared the kill zone, then she'll jump and take her friends with her." Hamato mused. "We've got them on the run, excellent work people, but that's only half the job. We have to make sure they don't come back."

One of the mighty Mishakur class Dreadnoughts fell behind, a veteran of every engagement of the war its hull was cut open by the EAS Nelson, multiple beams incising deep into her inner workings and killing the ship by degrees. A trio of laser lances burned right through, a few seconds later igniting her missile stores and blasting the honoured ship and crew into blackened pieces of flotsam.

Two more Dilgar destroyers died, one ripped to pieces by the Nova class Farragut while the second flew into the several hundred thousands of tons worth of debris at high speed, crumpling and flattening its crewed areas. Beside her the Scharnhorst and Tsarevitch powered up for another broadside against the fleeing enemies before they got too close to the EA Cruisers, saturating space with dozens of beams and killing several more capital ships.

The Dilgar were not idle, they burned their engines at full power and quickly began outpacing the dreadnoughts, though hundreds were left behind as victims of human firepower hundreds more fled. The Dilgar were no amateurs and even in the midst of a headlong retreat they jostled their positions, formed into covering groups and died well. Most importantly of all they created a wall of steel on all sides around their Warmaster, dying by the thousand so she may survive and lead her people in a vengeful victory some other day.

"Sha'dur, respond!" She growled, the wing gun of a destroyer bouncing off the extra hard hull of her flagship. Unlike most vessels her ship had next generation armour designed for the Sekhmet class, too expensive to mass produce but incredibly tough. Even so it wouldn't stop a Nova broadside.

"Sister, thank the gods, what the hell was that?"

The channel was still crackly and distorted from the human ECM saturation. She could just about make out her brother and was pleased to find him alive and fighting on.

"That was Earth Force." She replied, more relaxed to see her plan unfolding.

"I take it there has been a change of plan?"

"We're pulling back to Bestine at once." She stated. "Withdraw and begin jump sequence."

"Where are you?"

"Just get going, we'll be close behind."

On the screen the image warped, but she could see her brother shaking his head.

"No Sister, if we disengage the Human cruisers will slaughter you, I've plotted your vector, you'll pass straight through them."

"We'll manage."

"It's equal parts insane and brilliant, typical of your plans." Sha'dur grinned despite the dire situation. "But suicide alone. We'll increase pressure on the cruisers, keep them focused on us and not on you."

"Brother, the human Dreadnoughts are coming, you can't face both those forces."

"Then we jump out before they arrive, but after you leave."

She shook her head. "It is too great a risk, I can't risk both of us. We're the only ones left."

"And both of us will still be alive tomorrow." Sha'dur replied with surprising worth. "I'll see to it. Now get moving, I'll detach what's left of Third Line to fall back with you, once you start jumping so will we."

She nodded reluctantly. "No risks brother."

"No more than usual." He grinned. "I'm moving forward again, we're low on fighters but I'm sending them to help you."

"It's just a diversion, don't risk ships we can't afford to lose." She looked down. "We've lost so many already."

"We'll avenge them." Sha'dur said firmly. "And you will lead us. Now let me do what I am here for, let me look after you for a change."

"Alright brother." She smiled sadly. "See you soon."

"You will."

The Cruiser line was beset on all sides, but they were holding firm under the attack delivering rapid salvo after salvo into the Second Strike fleet choking the space between them with burning ships and dead fighters. The Dilgar were making virtually no headway but they did force the human ships to stay in formation and focus forward instead of coming about to cut off and bombard Jha'dur and the retreating First strike fleet.

But they did not pin the various Battlecruisers and Artemis rail gun frigates, while few in number these ships formed small task forces with four or five frigates centred on a cruiser that fell back and faced the oncoming hoard of fleeing Dilgar vessels. With aid from the aft guns of the already engaged warships they made the approach a costly one, cutting down any Dilgar ship in their path. Several Earth Force warships fell, destroyed by massed fire or simply rammed. The battlecruiser Defiant was struck bow on by a fleeing destroyer, smashing most of her forward hull. She spun out of control, still bringing down two passing Dilgar ships with her last functioning battery before a second and third destroyer rammed her into destruction.

The Artemis class ships were among the few human vessels that had a chance of keeping up with the Dilgar, they wove between the enemy forces and fired in every direction, heavy solid shells or armour piercing explosive shots tearing great gaping holes through even heavy armour. They two suffered as the Dilgar fought back in desperation, but the odds were firmly in Earths favour now as the First Strike fleet mingled with the human ships and suffered accordingly.

Most of this Ari'shan picked up in glimpses, a storm of light here or garbled calls of panic there. His focus was not on the battle around him but simply the single multi engined warplane barely fifty metres away showering his position with blue pulses of energy. He could not look away, couldn't even assign a part of his concentration to report in. Every single aspect of his being was tied up in this duel and to let just a little of him slip for a second would be all the human needed to finish him.

Ari had wanted a test, a duel that defined him, so epic and long it rivalled the legends. Two warriors locked in perfect single combat fighting beyond their limits and blazing a beacon of honour and glory for all around on either side. He knew the humans had a saying about being careful what you wished for because one day you might get it.

This human pilot was unrivalled, and that was not an accolade Ari'shan gave lightly. The Cascor were a race well suited to flying starfighters and fighting them had been a privilege, they had been the best in the League and superior to most Dilgar. But they were often undisciplined, so eager for battle that they made mistakes and in so doing died. Died well of course with great honour, but still died.

But these humans, they were everything the Cascor were and more. Clearly they were accomplished pilots, well suited to this calling and had invested heavily in creating the most extraordinary war machine Ari'shan had seen. Their attitude in battle was every bit as skillful as the Cascor, but with none of the failings. Some obviously had made mistakes and Dilgar pilots earned their first human kills because of it, but far fewer than any of them expected. The Dilgar were outclassed, they had finally run into an opponent with all their skill and all their control but seemingly dispassionate and not so prone to making casual mistakes, mistakes that got Dilgar killed.

This human had made no mistakes, not one, and that was not something Ari had ever seen. Even he made minor mistakes now and again, fortunately he never fought anyone good enough to exploit them until now. He had no idea who this human pilot was or if he was the average or some ace fighter, but he was simply the single best pilot in the galaxy, Ari even considered him superior to himself. But that did not mean of course he was going to win.

Ari had made three kills, including one Nova Starfury and those three eclipsed the two hundred he'd made in the League. One of these four engined Furies was worth a hundred League craft, and this single red emblazoned craft was like a champion of the gods sent down to test the undefeated and see what they were really made of.

And Ari'shan was not going to disappoint. He threw his fighter into a corkscrew, flinging it through manoeuvres its designers had never expected it to survive. Every half second, every quarter second, he twisted the controls and altered course and with each frantic turn and pass he bought more time to live. The human never gave him space to do more and was never more than a hundred metres distant. It's superior turning arrangement kept the Starfury guns facing the Thorun but the better thrust of the Dilgar craft always kept it one step ahead, barely.

He managed a few shots, three rounds grazing the human fighter but the pilot had seen them coming had swivelled slightly to avoid them. That tiny move gave Ari some breathing space to open the range and try for a shot, but before he got a dozen metres he was back on the defensive as the Starfury flipped hard over and cleared his gunsights. Hastily Ari fired retro thrusters, keeping him just far enough back so another range of pulse shots passed just inches from the front of his Thorun.

Nerve wracking didn't come close to describing his situation.

EAS Nemesis.

"The engineering team has a plan." Commander Anderson said with the tone of a man about to sentence a puppy to death.

"Can you sound a bit more enthusiastic?" Captain Tennant asked.

"Actually sir, no."

"Alright Commander, tell me this master stroke."

Obviously Anderson wasn't happy. "In a nutshell, we have one of the Starfuries shoot the secondary fuel line to number One engine."

"Oh well, glad we're still looking at this sanely." Tennant grunted.

"The ejected fuel will act like a thruster throwing the back of the ship around and changing course." Anderson repeated the words of the Chief engineer. "To stop spinning we shoot the fuel line on Number two engines and let the two jets cancel each other out."

"This is the master plan that will save my ship?"

The moment he said it there was a defeaning crash and the whole vessel rocked as something struck them hard.

"Well okay then." Tennant slapped his hands together. "I'm excited to be a part of this, pick a poor fool who's a good shot and get him to start blowing chunks off my ship."

From the outside the Dreadnought was showing signs of heavy damage, half her turrets were out of action and deep black scars marked her hull. Some areas burned bright as air or coolant leaked past sources of ignition casting flickering yellow lights over the battle worn hull. Even so the ship was still firing, charging what guns remained and still bringing down Dilgar ships that tried to cross her. The long line of wrecks in her wake marked the remains of those Dilgar who tried and failed to stop the inexorable progress of the Nemesis, but as Jha'dur's fleet fell back the Dreadnought found herself facing more and more members of the First Strike Fleet, and they were taking a toll before they died.

"Confirm that Nemesis?" Hague asked incredulously. "You want me to shoot what?"

The battle around the ship had abated briefly, enough for the Ghost Riders to take a few moments of pause and check their systems before a fresh wave of hostiles blundered into them. Fuel was starting to become an issue, the twelve hours cruising supplies almost expended during a fraction of that amount of combat time. They could hold on for a few more minutes, but unless they got some relief soon they would be no more than floating coffins.

"I need you to fly under the engine armour and take out the pipe I've sent to your tactical display." The voice of Commander Anderson said. "That's a direct order."

"Well alright then, I'm taking position."

"And Lieutenant, hit it exactly where I've marked." The officer reminded. "Hit the wrong spot and you'll trigger a chain reaction. The Captain informs that would be a bad, bad thing."

That was an understatement. "Got it, dropping into position."

Hague side slipped his Fury away and closer to the warship, averting his eyes as a quartet of laser beams carved into a Dilgar Heavy cruiser at a disturbingly close range. The engine block loomed massive before him, vast and churning out huge amounts of thrust, if he got caught in the back wash it would likely prove fatal.

"Stay alert, more fighters." April warned crisply. "We'll cover you Bill, but make it fast."

"Fast?" Hague huffed under his breath. "I'll be surprised if I get out of this alive."

He was forced to skim past the massive bulbous ion chambers at the base of the grand engines, tremendously powerful but compared to other races woefully inefficient. The vacuum insulated him from the sound, if it hadn't the effects would have been unpleasant, likely shaking his teeth from his head. The front of the engine block was dominated by a large flared cowl composed of thick armour designed to protect the vulnerable engines from frontal attack. Unfortunately the armour didn't extend right to the end of the engine assembly and the Dilgar had exploited that weakness.

Hague now had to fly between that armour and the engines looking for his target. He rolled slightly to squeeze through and activated his forward spotlight, illuminating the dark crevasse between hull and engines.

"Come on, come on." He tapped his fingers on the control stick. "Can't be that hard."

Behind him the rest of the Squadron was in action again and Hague wanted to be out there with them, even in so brief a time he felt part of the team. Naturally he was in many ways still an outsider and felt that way often, especially in social times. But out here riding Furies they were blood.

Suddenly the pipe came into view. On the tactical display it looked small, maybe a few feet wide, but there in front of him the thing was enormous, as oversized as everything else on the Dreadnought. He shouldn't be surprised really, it followed the pattern of every other damn thing on the ship, and to move the monster it was going to have to be a pretty hefty amount of pressure going through it.

Hague realised at that moment that this particular mission could prove rather bad for his health.

"Thanks for the warning Anderson." He tutted, then moved up and away from the expected breach. "Okay, here goes crazy."

Resisting the urge to close his eyes Hague fired a pair of pulse cannon shots, cutting the already somewhat damaged line and releasing a massively violent burst of raw fuel, a harsh white material that erupted with the subtlety of a geyser and would have smashed his fighter to pieces had he been in front of it.

"This is Hague, I got it, breaking off!"

He burned his thrusters and skimmed away, the side of the engines obscured by the jetting cloud of vapour. Already the ship was beginning to move and began the long turn back towards safety.

On the bridge a few extremely relieved officers raised a cheer.

"Stay on your stations people." Tennant spoke calmly. "We've still got trouble."

"I read three targets crossing our path, engaging." Anderson relayed.

"Brace yourselves!" Tennant called. "Again!"

Dilgar Bolt fire slammed into the front of the ship, smashing the battered armour and sending raw energy through into the hangar bay. Flames burst from the side of the tattered Dreadnought as a tank of Starfury fuel blew up gutting half the launch bays and creating a tongue of fire that licked from the wide hangar entrance like an irate dragons breath.

"Holy crap!" Anderson yelled over the thunderous ringing of secondary explosions. "Heavy damage to the forward decks! Fire reported across the hangars!"

"Give it back to them dammit!" Tennant roared in anger every bit as violent as the Dilgar attack.

The Nemesis was still turning, still out of control but now out of control and spinning in a long lazy arc. Her guns however were still tracking, and those that had survived gave reply to the Dilgar attackers. The foremost ship folded in on itself, bending in half as support members and struts were cut and meted away leaving a screwed up mockery of a warship. The next fared a little better, making a desperate turn that saved it from a direct hit, simply loosing most of its guns and outer hull and turning into a burning comet wreathed in burning atmosphere evacuating from within.

"Two down!"

"Why are we still turning?" Tennant asked. "Get that Fury in there and blow the second line, and finish that last bastard!"

Five more bolter rounds cleaved into the Earth Force battleship, shredding more plates from her hull but thankfully not penetrating the absurdly thick armour of the crew compartment. In return the cruiser took an eight gun barrage and stopped existing as anything recognisable in a few seconds.

"This is starting to get old." The Captain groaned, thankful his restraints kept him from sliding out of his chair.

"Our armour is wearing thin, we're not going to be able to stop much more fire." Anderson warned. "Heavy damage across all forward decks."

"I bet we look like Swiss Cheese from the outside."

"Not as bad as the Dilgar who tried to… Son of a… Incoming!"

Tennant snapped upright again. "What's incoming?"

"We only grazed one, she's on collision course!" Anderson barked. "Guns aligning!"

"Evasive action!" Tennant called. "Oh, yeah, I remember. Guess we just brace then."

With most of the forward guns lost the Nemesis fired what she could on the second Dilgar cruiser, she'd been turned into a flaming wreck but obviously hadn't gotten the hint. Red beams cored clean through her but this time it didn't make much difference, the ruined Dilgar ship held its final course and ploughed into the Earth Force ship head on crunching deep into the hull.

The inside of the ship was once again thrown into flickering lights, grating thunder and shrill alarms. The hull plates were shaken off their fittings, chairs were loosened and welds began to split as the hull succumbed to the immense stresses of having an enemy warship driving hard in the opposite direction of the main engines.

"Hull breaches in all sectors!" Commander Anderson cried. "The reactor is fluctuating! We're losing her!"

"Like bloody hell we are!" Tennant snapped. "Guns, get that wreck of my ship! If I want a hood ornament I'll damn well pick my own!"

"We haven't got a clean shot!"

"So shoot through the bow! Just do it!"

The gunners could barely sit still, let alone take the time to aim precisely. They picked one of the upper forward turrets still in operation and turned it inward and down so the barrels were actually resting on the hull above the hangar. The system refused to do something as purely insane as shoot through its own hull, but a swift override brought it back on line and with a bright flash it came to life, burning through the upper decks of the Nemesis forward section and out the front where the hangar once was.

The beams passed through and hit the shattered Dilgar vessel, with no armour left and little more than a set of engines and a reactor in a frame the enemy vessel was cut neatly in two. With reactor feeds cut and the engines bodily severed the Dilgar wreck fell apart, the two parts floating past above and below the half gutted Dreadnought.

"Holy hell, did she actually just do that?" Hague gaped, the front upper turret now welded to the Nemesis hull where she had fired through.

"Captain Tennant doesn't like losing." April replied. "Damn that was hardcore."

"I'm moving in to take the shot on the second fuel line." Hague shook his head to get his thoughts back. "I'll be quicker this time, I know what I'm doing."

"That's a first." April chuckled. "Go for it, We've got your back."

Once again Hague flew hastily for his target, April shooting down a Thorun that was too close for comfort. He rolled over the wounded behemoth and dropped under its armoured skirts. This time as predicted he found the right target.

"Bill! Check six!"

He heard April's warning and fired his lower thrusters, rising up as a Dilgar tracer shot by and impacted somewhere deep in the recesses of the ship.

Hague didn't have time to fire on this Dilgar, and with an evil smile he knew he didn't have to. With a snap shot he hit the line beneath him and caused another torrent of raw fuel to burst forth, cancelling the thrust from the other side and halting the turn of the ship, the still burning main engines arresting the momentum and keeping her moving forward.

The blast also had the added convenience of stripping the skin from the offending Dilgar fighter and sending what was left tumbling toward oblivion.

"Hey, that's still my kill right?" he asked with a frown. "Even though I didn't shoot him?"

"Yeah, still counts Bill." April agreed. "now get up here, warships on the way!"

"Warships?" Tennant grimaced.

"Dead ahead, five of them." Anderson confirmed. "Forward sensors are gone, we'll have a hard time locking on."

"Bastard." The Maori growled. "After all we've done to save this ship!"

"They're moving into range."

"What do we have?" Tennant demanded. "what's left on this beast that we can use to bring down some pain?"

"About four turrets at the rear quarter." The First Officer stated resignedly. "Under local control sir, we're gonna have to get closer."

"Well because we haven't fixed the damn engines we don't have much of a bloody choice do we?" The Captain retorted. "If we go down we're doing it in style, did we remember to pack our nukes?"

"Aye sir, four twenty megaton city busters."

"Get 'em armed, we'll blow them as we pass by those ships and take all five of the bastards." He smiled cruelly. "Oh boy did they pick the wrong ship to screw with."

The ship roared on, a torn mess of black steel surrounded by exhausted fighters still outgunned, outnumbered but in no way outfought. Ahead of her the five ships spread out but did not fire.

"Get into range." Commander Anderson said, fully realising he had just seconds or minutes left to live.

"Ghosts and Banshees, this is the Captain." Tennant spoke solemly. "You have earned your titles today people, it was a true honour to fight alongside you. Now get the hell clear, we've got one last surprise for these bastards. Go kill some more for us, keep the Nemesis name alive and feared."

"They still haven't fired."

"Waiting for a better shot." Tenant guessed. "Or they want to take us alive, well, to hell with that."

"We've got thirty seconds until we come alongside." Anderson said. "Nukes ready."

"Nemesis! Nemesis!" The bridge rang with April's voice. "Stand down at once!"

"Say again Ghost Rider?" Tennant asked quickly.

"It's the Markab! Do not engage!"

From outside the ship the Starfuries had a wonderful view of the brown and bronze vessels closing fast from the direction of their homeworld. Despite their orders to stay clear and protect Markab itself these ships had witnessed the distress Nemesis was in and had been trying to reach her for a considerable amount of time.

"That's a welcome sight." Hague grinned. "Finally a bit of back up!"

"Hell yeah!" April laughed for joy.

"Ghosts this is Nemesis, do we have any contact?"

"Barely Captain." She replied with a fixed grin. "Our comms gear is still not operating on the same level, but they're moving into escort positions."

The inability to link human and Markab communication and data links in time had been Hamato's main reason for keeping the Markab ships back, they were valuable assets and in the future would no doubt prove extremely useful counterparts to the slow but tough human ships.

In addition to the warship flotilla squadrons of fighters fell into position and passed by the war weary Starfuries, some of the pilots close enough to salute their human counterparts. Hague was glad to return the gesture.

"Alright Ghosts and Banshees, that's game over." Captain Tennant said. "We'll let the Markab cover our backs for now, conserve your fuel and relax. From what we saw before the lights went out the Dilgar are in full retreat, this isn't going to last much longer. Oh and for the record, we survived because I wore my Blessed skirt. Nemesis out."

Hague turned his fighter on its lower engine, looking into the distance at the blinks and points of light marking the main exchange still going on.

"Not bad for our first real battle." April said. "But I'm not standing down yet, not until we find the Commander."

Hague was absolutely appalled to think he hadn't even remembered Commander Sinclair wasn't with them. During the hard fighting around the Dreadnought he had forgotten the man even existed.

"Sinclair! Where is he?"

"I don't know, but we'll find out. Come on."

With a high scream of tortured metal the Dilgar cruiser rolled over still at full thrust, scattering debris and chunks of burning material in a spray of light and black from its torn body. Still the Earth Force ships pounded it with their flank and aft guns, ripping it to pieces as it passed foolishly between three Hyperions and received fire from each. Its reactor kept it moving, but the vessel was on fire and out of control with no hope of recovery.

The desperate flight was a painful experience with many vessels not moving fast enough and falling to Earth Force weaponry. In their turn they destroyed several human ships, but with orders not to tarry and engage only to run they did not present a great threat for the cruiser forces. With a final series of hits the last elements of Jha'dur's fleet crossed through the human forces and began moving through the relative safety of Sha'dur's forces, the final ship destroye din a flurry of energy by a nuclear missile launched from an Olympus.

"We made it." Captain An'jash reported. "Second Strike fleet closing behind us to provide cover."

"That was far, far too close Captain." Jha'dur said. "This battle was a mistake, I underestimated them."

"No one could have predicted their tactics Warmaster, or the risk they took to surprise us."

"I should have known." Jha'dur shook her head in disagreement. "That is why I am here, but damn me if those humans didn't just out think and out fight me."

"It will not happen again Warmaster."

"Once might have been enough, we're going to have a hell of a time replacing these losses especially as the humans are still fielding a powerful fleet. This is going to be an extraordinarily difficult campaign to win."

"We are Dilgar." An'jash spoke with deep pride and confidence. "Victory is our right."

"No, victory is earned, and today the humans were more worthy." Jha'dur smiled slightly. "All credit to them, they really did earn this day. Contact Third Line Fleet, stand by to jump the moment we are clear."

EAS Hannibal.

Francis heard the voice of the Dilgar aide in his ears, by now she was as familiar as his friends and co-workers. He could read the tone of her words, pick out her anticipation at first, then simple shock and terror, and now a sort of relief that he actually felt pangs of sympathy for. He almost knew this person, saw her emotions and witnessed how she dealt with the frightful circumstances around her. He almost felt sorry for her, knowing that very soon she'd be dead. This Captain An'jash thought it was over and she was going to live to see another day.

She was wrong, there was one more act in the drama yet to unfold.

"Dilgar fleet has cleared our lines sir." Francis stated heavily, almost guiltily. "They are moving into open space."

"Thank you Mr O'Leary." Hamato said concisely. "Then it is time. Commander, I want the ELINT ships providing hard locks on any hostile they can, real time targeting across the whole enemy force fed to General Skorzeny."

"Aye sir, switching from defensive jamming to active targeting."

Among the Earth fleet were scattered Electronic Warfare ships, older hulls no longer fit for front line combat loaded instead with the biggest and best sensors humanity could create. They were primitive by like so many other human inventions were so vastly huge and powerful they came into parity with more advanced alien devices. For the whole battle they had been jamming the Dilgar, disrupting communications and making long range target locks uncertain. With their new orders they turned their power from jamming to seeking out Dilgar ships. Carressing the fleeing ships with invisible waves of energy and reading the results to give full details of the Dilgar speed, distance and heading.

"Target information filtering through." Commander Patel announced. "Enemy ships are out of formation, it's a rout Admiral."

"Every ship for itself." Hamato observed. "No order, no discipline, no way to react to our tactics. They are defenceless, trapped and unable to fight back. This is what we have been waiting for."

Francis felt uncomfortable, he could still hear An'jash trying to calculate a safe distance to make the jump to hyperspace without damaging the ships around them.

"General Skorzeny, this is fleet Command." Hamato opened a line and spoke emotionlessly down the line. "Commence operations, full release is authorized by myself on the authority of the President of the Earth Alliance. Begin Code Abraxas."

Up until this point some ships of the fleet had remained unengaged, behind the first rank of cruisers and the second rank of dreadnoughts. This third line consisted of the Earth Force Avenger class carriers which were supporting the extensive Starfury wings, and with them Sagittarius class missile ships.

The Sagittarius was not an excellent ship, it was cramped and uncomfortable even by human standards. It was slow, ugly, poorly armed and so specialised in its role it was useless in anything other than a full scale battle. Unloved by its crews and held in contempt by the Senate the ship did not have a happy life. However it did have one advantage, something which had made it vital in the early days of Earth Force. It was capable of deploying a vast array of anti ship missiles and strategic weapons.

Each vessel mounted Fifty six heavyweight missiles each loaded with a multi megaton nuclear warhead. In the days before the Hyperion and Nova classes the Sagittarius was envisioned as humanities heavy hitter, saturating enemy fleets with nuclear fire. While that doctrine had been replaced by more formal ship to ship engagements the Sagittarius remained in service and Hamato had brought almost every single one in commission to Markab. All fully armed and waiting.

He couldn't use them at first because the Dilgar would have shot down most of the missiles, and then the enemy had been too close to his own forces. But now, with the enemy running in disorder and no Earth Force vessels in close pursuit it was time.

From his command vessel General Skorzeny activated the firing sequence, hundreds of missile cruisers came about and tapped into the data coming in from the Electronic Warfare ships. They swiftly programmed the missiles, removed the safeties, and with a last nod from the General began firing.

Bay doors burst open in clouds of gas and fractured rubber seals as the long weapons were pushed out by a jolt of electro-magnetic energy. The missile floated serenly out of its launch tube for a few seconds until it cleared the side of the ship, then flamed into life as its ion engine kicked in and propelled the silver tubes forward at speeds far greater than a fighter could match.

As the first missiles burned away the second batch were already clearing the tubes and coming to life, with the third set halfway out and powering up. The ships were ripple firing four at a time with barely a half second between the lead missile and its following cousin. The magazines were emptied in half a minute and missiles by the thousand arced over, under and around the main force of Human warships in a trajectory that would bring them down in a massive hammer stroke on the vessels of the First Strike and Third Line fleets.

There was no way for the Dilgar to miss this blatant and utterly massive attack. Every ship saw the launches, the sheer scale of it defied all belief and made no logical sense. They were firing a dozen missiles for every ship the Dilgar had, it was so fundamentally gross in scale and destructive potential even the war loving Dilgar were left too stunned to formulate an appropriate reaction.

"What in the name of the gods…" An'jash managed before the dryness in her throat robbed her voice.

"Details on enemy weapon types?" Jha'dur asked quickly. "What are they?"

She was hoping they were light anti ship missiles needing half a dozen direct hits to do damage, but based on the size something told her different.

"Nukes." An'jash said waveringly. "They're all nukes!"

"Impossible."

"The scans confirm it, they're barraging nukes!" An'jash clarified forcefully. "I don't understand! The amount of money and resources they're wasting!"

"It isn't a waste if they kill us all." Jha'dur chuckled, this was so absurd she just didn't take it seriously. "What a fantastic idea, we should have thought of it."

"We've got no fighters to intercept, our point defences are masked by all the ships getting in our way!" An'jash screamed. "We can't stop them!"

"No, no we can't can we." The Warmaster wiped a slight tear from her eye, she couldn't tell if it was of laughter or sadness. "Just when you think you know an enemy, just when you think they can't cause even more destruction, we get nuke saturation. Unbelievable, what else can you say to that? Just unbelievable."

The waves and waves of missiles fell like silver hail, each propelled by a blue star leaving a trail of hazy ions in their wake. Like a flowing silver mane they wrapped around the Human fleet and began to converge on Jha'dur. Some were brought down, but the simple volume meant well over ninety percent of them were going to hit.

"There's nothing we can do!"

"We can die like Dilgar." The Warmaster corrected. Outside the ships of her guard closed in around her flagship trying to form a wall of bodies between the nuclear holocaust and their leader. She appreciated the gesture, but it was futile.

"Impact in five seconds!" An'jash cried on the very edge of tears. "Jump engines aren't charged!"

"Not the end I had imagined." The Warmaster shared honestly as she watched the human missiles reach their targets. "Even so, this has been one hell of a ride." Every sensor went black as the first detonation blinded them. "One hell of a ride."

Sinclair let the Dilgar pilot get closer, waiting until his aft sensors showed the enemy lining up for a straight shot. It took the Thorun much less time than even a veteran pilot, yet another indication that this man was an elite among the elite. Carefully he dipped his right wing to throw off the Dilgar aim and then jammed on the retro thrusters throwing him hard into his seat restraints and bringing the Starfury to an almost dead stop.

As expected the Dilgar pilot whipped past, but instead of trying to evade he dropped down in front of Sinclair actually passing in front of the human guns for an instant. Sinclair fired, but a heartbeat to slow and the Thorun avoided the shots. With a curse Sinclair powered up the afterburners and raced on after his opponent, finely adjusting his position to claim the kill.

By now they had drifted into the space between fleets, weaving between the burned out wrecks of dead warships and illuminated by the still heavy exchange of fire between the two forces. The young Dilgar pilot rolled over dangerously close to the fore end of a wrecked destroyer and seeing an opportunity Sinclair fired not at the Thorun but at the nearby wreckage trying to shower the Dart fighter with shrapnel. This Dilgar however was not so easily played and dodged left and right, avoiding most of the showering shards of metal.

He flew behind the debris and Sinclair quickly altered course, seeing the trap. He only lost sight of him for a second but that was enough for the Thorun to back flip and start shooting at Sinclair's predicted path. Naturally Sinclair went somewhere else. He swept around the side of the wreck, side slipping into position and firing a full burst at where the Dilgar fighter should have been. He came close, but as usual the superior engines pressed the Thorun out of the way and heeled him over, making good his escape again.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Sinclair grunted, looping into action again. "Hope you got plenty of fuel, I can do this all day."

But he was instead rudely interrupted by a sudden shock of bright light that seemed to grow brighter to the point of impossibility. He turned away, putting the back of his fighter to the light as his sensors went haywire. Now to his side the Dilgar pilot was also turning away, momentarily fixated on avoiding what could only be a nuclear strike. Sinclair wanted to take a few shots, but survival instinct told him not to mess around on the edge of a nuclear barrage.

Hastily he back tracked, dodging a few pieces of wreckage until he found the piece of Dilgar destroyer he had just been battling around. While there was no blast wave as such from the nuclear missiles, and he was far enough away so the immediate energy release didn't vaporise his fighter he was still vulnerable to the intense radiation especially in a little Starfury. Fortunately the much bigger destroyer hull should shield him enough for the Starfuries own systems to do their job and keep him alive.

His sensors were badly disrupted by the intensity of the barrage, but he knew his opponent would not be put off by something as trivial as a massive nuclear saturation strike. As soon as the local radiation faded enough Sinclair was moving again and saw his opponent still alive, but now retreating.

"I'm disappointed." Sinclair mused. "I thought we had something going here?"

But it was not just that one Thorun, every Dilgar ship left was beginning to break and run, including the last remaining fighters from other squadrons who were streaming past on all sides. It was not a good place for an Earth Force pilot to be.

Sinclair had always been praised for his situational awareness, and he had never needed it more than now. Flying across the path of the retreating Thoruns he could still see the Dilgar ace, his distinctive fighter markings now serving to keep Sinclair in on the kill. Regular Dart fighters whizzed past, some stopping to shoot but none hitting. He blew one in half that got in his way, rolled over another without bothering to reduce his afterburners and tried to avoid disaster as he moved closer and closer to his target.

"Just open a jump point wherever you are and run!" Sha'dur yelled across all frequencies, his composer evaporating in a mushroom cloud. He had no idea what was going on now, his sister was out of touch, lost somewhere in the forest of white fire Earth Force had just delivered. They had lost and in spectacular fashion, not merely driven back but annihilated. Their morale would be rock bottom, Dilgar planetary pride ruined, and more importantly the best ships they could muster decimated. Sha'dur had no idea what he was supposed to do now, he hadn't even dreamed about this situation, much less made a contingency plan. Even worse he had lost the one person that actually could make something of this mess.

"Where is my Sister!"

"I don't know, sensors are still recovering." Captain Evenil wailed. "The humans are still coming!"

"Damn the humans! Find my sister!" The Warmaster snapped. "Nothing else matters!"

The Second Strike fleet collapsed, it's fighting retreat now just a plain old escape. Facing them the human ships advanced slowly but inexorably, the Cruisers and Dreadnoughts now combined in one solid battle formation preceded by a wall of fire. Nothing stood up to them, those ships that tried died instantly, utterly overwhelmed by the simple volume and power of Earth Force weapons.

The last wave of Nuclear weapons detonated among the positions Jha'dur and her ships had been in, bright spheres of light walking across the sky like ripples in a pool of mercury. There was no transmission from either of the two fleets that had been fleeing, nothing at all.

"I want us at my sisters last no position." Sh'dur demanded.

"Sir, the radiation will…"

"Now Captain!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Aye sir." Evenil replied, forcing herself to remain calm. The residual radiation clinging to space and the wrecks in that area would overwhelm their shielding in a few minutes at best, seeping through and killing them all. If Jha'dur had survived the explosions themselves she was probably already dead from poisoning. A bitter irony.

"And get Ari'shan out of there."

"If he refuses Warmaster?"

"Inform him his sister is in need."

The first jump points opened, sucking damaged and exhausted ships into hyperspace and away from Earth Force. Everyone fell back, sacrificing the ships at the back so those at the front could flee. The decimated fighter units, including a despondant Ari'shan and determined Sinclair joined them, passing between the larger ships and diving into any vortex they could.

Earth stepped up the pressure, releasing their fastest ships to finish the rout and claim some free kills while they could. A Dreadnought was pummelled to scrap by a squadron of Rail Frigates, the heavy metal rounds passing straight through and eviscerating the great warship. Starfuries kept attacking along side them, trying to pick off engine systems and hamstring some of the faster Dilgar units so the fleet could close and pick them off. The battle became a massacre, and in this instance Earth Force showed no pity. The Dilgar did not deserve it, and destroying them now meant they didn't have to fight them again later and risk human lives in the process.

"I have something." Evenil raised her voice. "Dead ahead, it's the flagship transponder."

"Take us in!" Sha'dur demanded, unaware and uncaring of anything but this.

Evenil did as she was told, expecting to see nothing but the transponder itself as the Conqueror nosed past irradiated hulls and dead crews. It was to her great and somewhat pleasant surprise she saw the Dreadnought Deathwalker show up on screen still in recognizable shape.

"It's her!" Sha'dur leapt from his chair. "I knew it! Get those Frigates over here! Grapple the ship and prepare jump engines!"

Jha'dur's flagship was a mess, but its advanced armour had served it well. The screen of heavy warships that had gathered around her took the brunt of the attack and while they were utterly destroyed they did give Jha'dur a chance to live. While little more than a burned armoured hull with no weapons or engines, it still had air. Maybe there were people still alive.

"Warmaster, radiation at critical levels, we must go at once."

"Standby jump sequence." Sha'dur ordered breathlessly, the emotion written all over his face. My sister is towed out first."

"Earth Force…"

"My sister goes first!"

"As you say Warmaster, so I obey. Opening jump point."

"Son of a bitch." Sinclair snarled. "Come on you piece of junk! Faster!"

He funneled more power into the engines, every board warning him the thrusters were heading for melt down. Out of his canopy he could actually see the large engine mounts starting to glow red in places as he pushed them beyond their limits. It was however no good, he just couldn't match the speed of the Dilgar design and his opponent was getting further and further away, racing to join a larger ship ahead and follow it into hyperspace.

But Sinclair was not finished with him, not yet. He flipped around a few pieces of wreckage and ahead noted the rapidly growing form of a Dilgar Dreadnought, smashed and lifeless in space. He had an idea, a bad idea but one he decided to try. He quickly brought up an intercept course and programmed it onto the computer, one to take him right past the fleeing Thorun. Then he flew at the wrecked Dreadnought still at full power.

"This is the stupidest idea in the history of stupid ideas." He said under his breath. "Computer, activate grapple arm. Fire!"

From beneath the cockpit the swivel mount dropped down and launched the multi pronged arm at the Dreadnought as he passed by, catching on the hull and very quickly pulling taught. Then he turned so he was at a right angle to the ship and line and braced really hard.

When he woke up he was nowhere near the Dreadnought. His fighter had reached the end of its line, snapped around and with both ends tethered had started looping around the wreck like a fish on a line. The more he looped the shorter the line became and the faster he moved picking up speed rapidly until the computer reached its pre-programmed speed and angle, then cut the line and threw the Starfury at a ridiculous speed in Ari'shans direction. Sinclair was still groggy, the G-Force had blacked him out and he could feel a tingle and numbness in his chest suggesting he'd broken a lot of bones, but for these moments he was in control and his enemy was getting into range.

Ari'shan had no idea what was heading his way, he had lost focus when he heard about Jha'dur and now needed to get back to make sure she survived. Ahead Sha'dur's ship opened a jump point and he saw the wrecked flagship pulled through, followed by Sha'dur. Ari'shan adjusted course to pass through at the same time.He had lost focus for a few seconds, and when his computer beeped a warning he had next to no time to react. He just about managed to breath in as an act of shock before things went bad.

Sinclair was moving so fast he would be in effective range for just a second, and he was going to fly past Ari'shan which meant it would have to be a deflection shot made at an absurd passing speed. Normally Ari'shan need not have worried, no one was good enough to pull that off, it was an impossible shot. But Sinclair made it anyway.

The Starfury was already hundreds of yards away in the time it took for the pulse shot to travel between both craft, beyond the ability of Ari to retaliate even if he had been able to. The blue bolt caught the Thoruns starboard engine and blew it clean off, taking most of the wing with it. The nimble craft spun completely out of control, its whole right side a sheet of flame as Ari'shan fought to save himself. He did not wear a space suit and Dilgar fighters had no ejection system, if he didn't regain control he was dead.

He passed through the vortex and into hyperspace back wards, desperately killing his other wing tip engine to bring some symmetry to his thrust. He felt the G force relax enough for him to reach up and dump his fuel, and as he did the fire burning around his cockpit died and he could see the blood red sky of hyperspace. Gingerly he tapped the main engine, giving him some motion and preventing him going off beacon into oblivion.

"This is Dagger Leader to fleet. Request pick up." He managed to say, his body starting to give up. "Bring me in, it's time to go home."

EAS Hannibal.

"There they go."

Hamato agreed with Commander Patel's assessment. "So they do."

"I'm picking up no Dilgar transmission in system sir." Francis offered. "If they didn't make it to hyperspace, they didn't make it at all."

"Then we're done." Jenny said from beside him. She had been very quiet for most of the engagement, reading the detailed displays of the command ship and reading the different tactics and strategies. "We did it, we beat the Dilgar in a straight fight."

"Commander, my compliments to Grand Master Valna." Hamato rubbed his eyes. "Ask him if he would do me the honour of assuming patrol duties across the system and watching for Dilgar counter attacks or raids."

"Understood sir."

"Then signal all fighters, return to base."

"Admiral." Francis raised a hand. "I'm not sure how but we've got a Starfury beyond the Dilgar lines, its moving fast but braking."

"Make sure someone goes and gets him." Hamato responded. "And thank Master Valna for taking the Nemesis under tow. Be a shame for her to hit a moon after going through all that."

"Apparently Captain Tennant was wearing a Holy Skirt." Patel smiled.

"Well, I suppose they were never in real danger then." Hamato made a pass at humour. "General order Commander, all ships stand down to condition two. Well done ladies and gentlemen, we beat the unbeatable. Take pride in your actions today, they will never be forgotten."

"We took on two Strike fleets, the best they have." Jenny spoke softly. "The amount of ships they've destroyed, the fleets they've annihilated, the lives they've taken. They were legend."

"And like legends the are now things of the past." Hamato stated simply. "This morning the Dilgar were unbeaten and the whole galaxy was at their feet. This afternoon the universe is a different place."

"They'll be back for us, and they'll fight even more fiercely." Jenny cautioned. "When they were winning they were vicious, now they're on the run they'll fight like cornered animals."

"So we will meet them with just as much vigour and not stop until we are above Omelos itself." The Earth Force Fleet Commander said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "They say you can pick one moment and say 'That is when history was made, that is when the world changed.' Well that moment is right now. The world we see now is different to the one we saw yesterday. This war was always going to create a new Super Power in the galaxy to rival the Narn and Centauri. The Dilgar thought it was going to be them. They were wrong."

Hamato looked to the two agents.

"We just witnessed a birth Mr O'Leary and Miss Sakai, today we created a new power in the galaxy. This day belongs to the Earth Alliance, we did what no one else could do and we'll keep on doing it until we win. Earth will take the place of the Dilgar in the galaxy, and we aren't going away. Earth Alliance is here to stay."


	65. Chapter 65

64

Tiree

Colony World, Markab Space

January 2232

The silence that permeated the planet had become accepted by this point and no longer bothered the Earth Force troops as they made their way from location to location. At first the completely lack of any life, sentient or animal had made the soldiers uncomfortable, like they were advancing into a horror movie. Sometimes they would stumble across a body or two on a street or inside a ruined house but for the most part the only living things they saw were each other.

And sometimes Dilgar.

The planet was now under de facto human control, the Dilgar divisions sent to hold this place had been smashed a week earlier in a massive combined arms assault which overpowered and destroyed well over a hundred thousand enemies, mostly through orbital strikes. The ground offensive itself had been a great test for mankind and its vision of warfare among alien worlds. It was a triumph of logistics and bravery combined with skill at arms and dedication. The Dilgar had fought well, but they were broken with their leaders dead and no way off the planet.

Even so the remaining soldiers did not give up and the fighting went on sporadically as Earth troops sought out any remaining Dilgar enclaves and flushed them out. It was a slow process and the Dilgar certainly had no intention of making it easy, but with control of the skies and heavens above the human soldiers were carefully and surely securing the planet.

"Fire in the hole!"

Dom instinctively turned away as Corporal Harlow lobbed a grenade through the doorway of a seemingly abandoned building, feeling the heat and particulate dust caused by the exploding device react with the uniform on his back.

"Go!"

Dom did as he was told, charging through the door and immediately jumping to his right, a second later Bugs was through and moving left with a further two soldiers coming in close behind. All of them had their rifles at their shoulders sweeping left and right in the hazy room obscured by smoke and detritus from the preceding grenade.

"Clear!" Dom called out after a few seconds.

"Clear!" echoed Bugs from the other side of the large open plan room, the whole single level building just an open space with arched ceilings to keep the roof up and sturdy. The Markab apparently didn't need much privacy in this particular dwelling.

"Roger that, nice work squad." Sergeant Garibaldi told them approvingly over the headsets. "Okay, lets move on, pays to be thorough."

The four soldiers filed out of the building with their weapons resting in their arms but still charged and ready. Even though there was no immediate threats the soldiers of Red Platoon kept their guard up at all times. The Dilgar were not known to use snipers, apparently that was a uniquely human concept which slightly amused Army command, but as many in the unit had experienced the Dilgar had a unit just as deadly. The Spectres.

"Gotta say Sarge, I don't like these Markab houses much."

Garibaldi glanced over at Tucker, while his helmet covered his features the tactical overlay from his Integrated Battlefield Management System informed him of the soldiers name, position in the unit and basic health and ammo status. It was an excellent tool and often overlooked in civilian circles in favour of heavy artillery and battle tanks. As far as Garibaldi was concerned this little computer device had won more battles than a whole division of armour.

"Why not?" He replied. "Four solid walls, roof over your head, under floor heating. What's not to like?"

"Well its all one open space, I mean the whole family can see everything you do."

"Ahh." Garibaldi nodded in understanding. "And there are some things best done away from prying eyes."

"Exactly right." Tucker nodded emphatically. "Kills the mood, if you see where I'm going."

"Not such a big deal." Bugs joined them. "They have partitions, some fabric which is sound proof and can't be seen through. Good enough to keep your private moments private."

"Partitions?"

"Guess they all got burnt or ripped down when the Dilgar came through here."

The village they were in had been in the path of the Dilgar advance and while it hadn't been occupied during the brief stint of the invasion the alien soldiers had been through here and left a brutal legacy. Many houses had collapsed or were smoking shells with clear marks of weapons fire on their outer surfaces. Like every other village though it was lifeless.

"Well we've only got a few more minutes to our objective." Garibaldi put them all on track. "We still have what looks like a camp on the edge of this village. Lets go check it out, nice and careful."

"Think we might find some people alive?" Dom wondered optimistically.

"Satellite imaging was inconclusive. So we might."

This colony had been relatively lucky in that Earth had arrived not long after the Dilgar. The population of some millions had been bombed from orbit but under orders from the Warmaster Council most of the population had been spared from Mass Drivers and biological warfare. It was not however an act of mercy, instead the Markab would have been used as slave labour to turn this colony into a Dilgar Fortress to protect the Imperium from future Earth attacks.

Fortunately Earth Force had moved fast and began the attack before the Dilgar had moved in any planetary defences or ground based heavy weapons, if they had waited a month or so it was likely the human ships engaging in planetary bombardment would have been engaged by excessively large ground batteries and the assault forces would have been flying into some nasty concentrated defences.

It was a blessing, but in the future as Earth attacked more solid Dilgar strong holds planetary assaults were going to get a lot bloodier for all concerned. Tiree had been proof of concept, showing the Human system worked in principle, but it hadn't been a severe test in the face of heavy resistance. That would be yet to come.

With careful and deliberate action the Earth Force Platoon proceeded through the village looking for signs of occupation or trouble. The moved in spaced out formation a few yards apart keeping an eye on one another and the world around them moving at the half crouch half run adopted by human troops over the centuries to maximise speed and minimise profile.

Bugs was the first to clear the edge of the village, crossing by the last house and coming to a halt by a long stone wall that ran around the village broken only by the main road through and out into the white snowy countryside.

"Crowbar, camp in sight."

"Confirmed, hold position." Garibaldi answered. "Red Platoon, move into position, nice and steady."

One by one the troops took up position, still four people down after casualties sustained in the assault a few days earlier. Garibaldi had rearranged the unit slightly to keep it as balanced as possible but the losses were still being felt quite keenly. He dropped into position beside Bugs and took a look over the low wall.

"There we are." He announced. "No signs of life."

A few hundred yards away was a compound of tents and two prefabricated concrete buildings surrounded by wire. It looked like a standard prisoner camp common the galaxy over, with space for a few hundred people in tents and a dozen or so armed guards in the more comfortable buildings. Only in this case there was no one.

"Thermal scans and resonance imagers aren't giving me much." Bugs said. That fence must be electrified, plays havoc with our gear."

"So we might have company in there."

"Maybe."

Garibaldi examined the area in a little more detail, the approach was quite open with just a few bare shrubs and trees to mask their approach. If Dilgar were waiting they could cause a lot of damage to his people if they simply walked in the main gate. However he had orders from Captain Franklin to check it out and rescue any civilians, right now Lieutenant Brook would be coordinating as much intelligence and support assets as he could to give the platoon the help they needed when they needed it.

"Large, set up by the roadside." Garibaldi ordered. "Keep it quiet until something happens."

Private 'Large' Turnbow nodded and moved. The soldier was huge more than living up to his nick name as he pounded away into position with his support buddy. Large was carrying a hefty Machine gun that was designed to support the rest of the platoon by smothering enemy positions in bullets. Earth was working on a PPG version and some prototypes already existed, but for now most units still used old fashioned chemically propelled metal shots.

He deployed the weapon like a toy, effortlessly setting it up on a bipod next to the wall and clipping the large magazine into place, his team mate carrying more ammunition to feed the weapons insatiable hunger.

"Okay, first squad up and over." Garibaldi ordered. "Make it fast and do not touch the wire. Move."

Half the Platoon clambered onto the wall and hopped over, dropping down on the other side and advancing at a moderate run, again with rifles training from their shoulders. As they advanced second squad stayed behind the stone edifice and watched for trouble ready to provide cover if needed.

They got about halfway before a voice yelled something in an alien language. In the same heartbeat First Squad threw themselves down into the snow and looked for the source of the noise, seeing as feared a Dilgar soldier running for the two buildings yelling and pointing.

"Where the hell did he come from?" Tucker grunted.

"Screw it." Garibaldi snarled, then cut in his longer ranged comms. "Red Platoon reports contact, permission to engage?"

"Red Platoon, engage at will." Lieutenant Brook confirmed. "I've got mortars and a gunship nearby, looking at your readings I wouldn't say you needed them just yet."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi answered. "We're going in, Crowbar out."

A few shots of blue energy flashed from the windows of the nearest concrete building as a Dilgar soldier began firing. Based on the uniforms they were Stormtroopers, fanatical but less skilled than regular infantry or Guardsmen. Prison guards and cannon fodder for the Dilgar army.

"Large, nail them!" Garibaldi ordered. "Second Squad, covering fire!"

The machine gun tore into life, a loud ripping rattle as the bullets passed down range blasting chunks from the concrete structure. The line of tracers walked back and forth forcing the one or two people inside away from the windows. At the same time the Second squad fired from the wall, PPG shots passing throught he wire fence and lashing the second as yet quiet building, just in case.

"First squad, advance!" Garibaldi continued running the fight. "Drop at the perimeter!"

Dom was up and moving, his legs pushing him up and forward. His chest remained cold after laying on the snow and his breath was forced as he sprinted towards the gate. A few Dilgar shots whizzed by, thumping into the ground with puffs of vapour as they hit the cold snow. In return Large adjusted his aim and turned one of the windows into a shower of bullets and shards of concrete, effectively silencing the threat.

He reached his position and threw himself down with a soft thump of flesh on ground and a jangle of equipment. An instant later he had his rifle trained on the nearest building alongside his squad mates.

"First squad, cover fire." Garibaldi now ordered, changing the roles of the platoon. "Second squad, on the move!"

In this instance second squad had an easier time, the Dilgar were pinned by the two sources of cover fire and could not mount any kind of response. Garibaldi joined them, sliding into position to the side of the First Squad.

"Dom, smoke!"

The young soldier let go of his rifle and reached for his webbing, looking on the belts for a smoke grenade. He grasped one of the cylindrical devices and pulled it forward, priming and then throwing it so it landed in front of the building not under fire from large and the machine gun. Within seconds a blossom of thick purple smoke spewed from the canister obscuring both sight and a host of scanning devices with its carefully formulated composition.

"Now go!" Garibaldi roared. "Clear them out!"

Without any rest Dom was up again, adrenalin pushing him through the gate and towards the smoke cloud faster than he expected considering he was hauling a lot of weight on his back and shoulders. He pushed blindly through and exited right up against the wall, slamming into it with his shoulder and dragging along until he found the door.

Bugs fell in quickly on the other side and Tucker joined them, a small explosive charge in his hand. Swiftly he stuck it between the lock and the doorframe and armed it, a small red light indicating it was ready. Bugs primed another grenade and nodded.

"Go in shooting this time."

Dom nodded. "Ready."

Tucker blew the charge, shattering the lock and throwing the door open so hard to broke of its hinges and smashed into the floor. Before the sound had faded Bugs had the grenade airborne and clinking on the floor, rolling toward the middle and drawing some shouts from inside.

"Fire in the hole!" He shouted for the fourth time in a day and covered his head.

Again the doorway bulged out as a cloud of smoke and debris flew out causing screams and choking within. Dom went in purely on training, not thinking about the possibility that he wouldn't get past the doorway before someone put a dozen bullets in his chest. Like before he ran in and went right, but this time he was firing on full automatic turning the room and hanging dust red with the Plasma rounds. Begs did exactly the same, hosing down the room and any survivors.

This time there was a second connected room with another open doorway, and with the first room cleared Dom and Bugs bolted for the second. About halfway there they saw a Stormtrooper rush out with his weapon ready about to fire. He did not get a chance.

"Clear!" Bugs called, sweeping the far room.

"All clear." Repeated Dom. "House secure!"

"Second Squad, house two!" Garibaldi ordered. "Move and clear!"

"They're running!" Harlow shouted. "Straight out the front!"

"Hold position, take them!" the Sergeant snapped quickly.

The Dilgar in the second building had thought it better to take their chances running than becoming trapped, unfortunately as they bolted they came under fire both from the squad and Private Large, the two separate sources of gunfire bringing down the four Dilgar in seconds.

As the last one collapsed and rolled to a stop on the floor the firing stopped, and once more the silence returned. After the retort of the machine gun and booms of the explosives it was eerie just how fast things went back to the way they were, almost like a switch had been thrown putting the world into mute.

"All done." Harlow took a look in the second building. "Just bodies."

"Alright, lets check out these tents." Garibaldi said cautiously. "There may be more, so stay alert but watch your fire. Remember we're looking for civilians."

They didn't need to go far, a few dozen yards away they came across two Dilgar bodies and about ten dead Markab. The natives looked like they had been shot while the Dilgar had been bludgeoned to death, by the heavy stones and staves in the hands of the Markab probably by each other.

"Still warm." Tucker checked the bodies. "In this climate I'd say this just happened."

"Sarge." Bugs said calmly. "Movement, first row of tents."

Garibaldi slowly looked in that direction. "Second Platoon, covering positions, move slow and casual."

Harlow did as asked, quietly lowering her unit down and preparing to fire.

"No sudden movements." The Sergeant ordered. "Watch my back."

Garibaldi stepped forward, past the bodies and towards the tents. He kept his rifle in his hands but had the barrel pointing down. His helmet sensors confirmed their were life signs in the area, and guessing by the fact he was still walking and not under fire they probably weren't Dilgar.

From out of the shadow of the tents a group of faces appeared, pained but active. They were indeed Markab, a mixture of males and females of all ages likely from the village they had just passed through. Ever so carefully the Sergeant slung his rifle over his shoulder and removed his helmet.

The Markab began stepping out into the open to get a closer look at him, at first a handful but soon dozens began appearing from the shade of the tents to see what was happening now the gunfire had subsided.

"Harlow, got onto the Lieutenant, tell him to send in medical teams." Garibaldi said. "Then take your squad and watch the perimeter incase we get some unwelcome guests."

"Got it." She said and with a few hand gestures headed away.

"Now what?" Bugs wondered.

"We say hello." Garibaldi shrugged. From his belt he unhooked a small computer in a hard shell to protect it. He opened the lid and activated the real time translation package it held optimised for the Markab language. He wanted to put his helmet back on, the air was freezing, but as many of these Markab had only blankets to keep them warm he endured his own slight discomfort.

"I am a human." He said, the words translated by the machine. "We are here to liberate you from the occupation. Help is coming."

The Markab began speaking quickly among themselves, looking to and fro and then back at the Sergeant.

"Who is in charge here?"

From amid the Markab a fairly old looking male stepped forward. He wore the tattered remains of religious robes and looked like he'd been taking regular beatings from the guards.

"I am." He said plainly. "I speak for the village."

"I bring you greetings from Earth. Your village is now liberated, you are free and we have medical help coming this way in a few minutes."

"What about the demons?"

"Demons?" Garibaldi frowned.

The leader pointed to the bodies of the two Dilgar. "The demons, we slew these two while the others were distracted fighting you."

"Oh, Dilgar." Garibaldi realised. "They're beaten, we crushed their main army a few days ago fifty miles from here."

The priest kept a straight face. "Markab?"

"Protected by two thousand Earth Force warships."

"The humans are in this war now? Committed?"

"That is why we are here."

"And you have driven the Dilgar from this world?" He asked more quickly. "The light in the sky, the thunder from the ground?"

"That was us, preliminary bombardment."

"Then you are agents of the Maker, praises to you human, praises to you all."

He turned and spoke to the crowd, the translator caught some of it but the way the tired, hungry and hurt Markab suddenly lit up and began cheering and jumping, that was all Garibaldi needed to see to know that this whole thing had been more than worth it.

An hour later…

It had been a difficult hour, not because of an enemy attack or spot of inclement weather, but because the Markab seemed to want to make him a saint of some description. As a general rule Garibaldi did not not really want to take advantage of the situation, and while perching on a throne surrounded by adoring Markab sounded good in theory in practice he expected Earth Force Command to take a dim view of things.

So instead he graciously extricated himself and backed his troops off as the Markab began celebrating their liberation, a mix of joyful praying, singing and dancing. It was remarkable and hard not to get caught up in the infectious jolly atmosphere. He only had to wait a dozen minutes for the convoy to arrive, including mix of supply trucks loaded with Earth Force neutral rations, an unappetising assortment of nutrients packed in what was loosely called a food bar and who's only advantage was that it could be eaten by any known creature. In addition there was also a couple of ambulances and medics specialising in Xenobiology.

With the truck crews handing out free food and the medics looking after those too weak to join the celebration the Markab were finally in safe hands and Garibaldi could stand down, letting White platoon advance past their position and move to clear the next village in line.

While the Platoon took a well earned rest and started on their rations Garibaldi noticed a new guest arriving. A low slung white and grey armoured car passed silently down the road on large wheels, gliding to a stop in front of the gates. It was little more than an armoured rectangle on wheels with a remote controlled machine gun on the roof, but it served well enough as a reconnaissance and command vehicle. One of the doors hinged open with a hiss and revealed Captain Franklin, the broad set officer stepping carefully from the car and ordering the driver to wait for him.

"Sergeant Garibaldi." Franklin offered a greeting. "Good to see we found some live civilians."

"Yes sir." The NCO nodded. "We engaged an enemy unit, approximately platoon strength. No casualties among Red Platoon."

Like Garibaldi Franklin kept his helmet under his arm so the Markab could recognise him as human. Indeed with his shaven head he probably found himself easier to associate with than Garibaldi who still had hair, though it was vanishing at a concerning rate. The Markab elder noticed the new human and guessing at the posture Garibaldi adopted that this dark skinned human was probably in charge.

"Sir, we believe this is the Markab leader, a priest." Garibaldi informed as the alien came closer. "We made a count of one hundred fourteen survivors, which is apparently over three quarters of the village."

"Well that's a bit of good news." Franklin flashed a rare smile. "I think we arrived just in time, we managed to rescue about two thirds of the total population."

"That's not bad." Garibaldi did the math. "But that's still ten million dead."

"Mostly in the first minutes of the attack." The Captain confirmed sombrely. "Bloody day."

"Aye sir, bloody as hell."

The Markab made a respectful bow to Franklin who acknowledged with a sharp incline of the head. As before the Priests words were translated real time by Garibaldi's battle computer.

"Welcome to my village Emissary."

"Emissary?"

"Messenger from the Maker, sent to show us the way to beat the Demons."

"Dilgar sir." Garibaldi interjected.

"Well thank you." Franklin said a little stiffly. "Just doing our job. Is there anything else we can provide for you?"

"No, not at all. We have food, medicine, new clothes and warm tents. We are eternally grateful to humans and the gifts they bring. Soon we will start rebuilding our village while the young and fit leave with you to continue the fight."

"With us?" Franklin raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry sir, but Earth Force has some very strict selection processes."

"They are fit and will fight admirably." The Priest said.

"I am positive they will, but they must join the Markab army, and then they will no doubt be deployed alongside us, but under Markab command as it should be."

The Priest seemed to accept the word. "Yes, yes that is correct. We must fight as Markab in your shadow following your example. And so we shall."

Franklin decided it was best not to argue, a quick glance from Garibaldi seemed to confirm the idea. The Markab had a reputation as good fighters, but the realities of Earth Force recruitment and training procedures were a subject best left for another time.

"Well I have some good news." Franklin announced. "And you can pass the word in a moment Sergeant. The combined fleets have met the Dilgar in battle over Markab."

"How many ships sir?"

"Almost all they had led by Jha'dur, you may know her as Deathwalker?"

The Priest said something which did not translate, an ancient curse. For his part Garibaldi knew the name from the narrow escape at Tirrith.

"I am glad to say we won a significant victory, the Dilgar were repulsed with heavy losses. Our own casualties fell within acceptable levels."

"Hot damn." Garibaldi grinned. "So we took them on land and space?"

"We sure did, Markab is no entirely safe and the fleet is preparing to give chase."

"You must excuse me." The Priest was excitedly backing away. "I must share this, it is so much good news, such a gift from the Maker! Praise be to you all!"

with an energy belying his advancing years the Markab ran whooping in joy to his people, the shouts rising in exultations of amazed relief and celebration.

"And we'd almost got them to shut up." Garibaldi said, grinning widely and showing his true appreciation of the Markab news. They had suffered heavily, it was a beautiful sight to see them so glad.

"Private Tucker, front and centre!" Captain Franklin called.

The soldier stood up from his meal and darted over to join Garibaldi. "Reporting as ordered sir."

"Private, I have good news and bad news." Franklin related. "Good news is I'm promoting you to Corporal. Bad news is I'm promoting you to Corporal. Congratulations."

Garibaldi looked solemnly at his Captain. "Sir, this mean Connor isn't coming back?"

"His injuries proved too severe, he's going back to Earth." Franklin said with sympathy. "A good soldier and a shame to lose him, but he'll be fine in a few months and the Force will look after him. Corporal Tucker will take over his job in First Squad, Corporal Harlow will continue running Second Squad."

"understood sir." Garibaldi nodded curtly.

"I'll try find us some spare bodies, but out here you might be under strength for a while."

"We'll manage sir." The Sergeant stated with confidence.

"Very well." Franklin said with finality. "I'm heading back to Battalion HQ, the Colonel will be glad to hear of this."

He turned and began to leave, but paused. "Private Hannigan is in this platoon isn't he?"

"Yes sir, the General Killer."

"Well I wouldn't mention it too much." Franklin warned. "The man he killed was a son of the Dilgar Supreme Warmaster. They might want his head."

Tucker and Garibaldi shared a glance. "We'll stop all talk of it sir."

"Very well Sergeant, Lieutenant Brook has your orders, we're going to be leaving soon for Markab itself. We might be back in action so enjoy this rest while you can. Once again, good work Red Platoon."

The Captain returned to his armoured car, closed the door and still in silence drove off towards his next destination leaving the two soldiers stood in the snow.

"Son of the Dilgar chief?" Tucker repeated. "And a General? For his first kill?

"He's in the wrong job." Garibaldi shrugged. "He should have joined the Sniper corps, they'd love him."

"Well my lunch is getting cold."

"We're on a snow planet, everything is cold." Garibaldi huffed. "Anyway I got some good news, the fleet actually earned its pay. And guess who got her butt handed to her by the boys and girls in blue?"

Bestine

The shuttle fell through the grey sky on a barely controlled descent, dropping like a burning rock and vaporising the rain that fell in its fiery wake. It was ringed by fighters following it down from orbit at an equal velocity, a close guard to protect the vehicles cargo from possible attacks from enemy fighters or terrorists on the ground. Despite a great deal of what the Dilgar euphemistically called 'Pacification Operations' a large portion of the Descari Army had vanished into the thick forests of their homeworld and mounted unceasing attacks on the Dilgar garrison. Normally the response would have been overwhelming and extremely violent, but the Dilgar just didn't have the forces available anymore.

The shuttle turned in a corkscrew through the air, bleeding off speed and reducing its velocity enough to land without leaving a crater as the only mark of its existence. It dropped its gear and hit the landing pad with a surprisingly gentle roll coming to a halt barely feet from the main building at the edge of the airport, the Dilgar main control facility for the occupation on Bestine. It was a large and ugly prefabricated building assembled in a day from slabs unloaded from the belly of a freighter. The shuttle splashed a few puddles as it came to a stop, its surface seeming to quiver as the heavy rain pelted it in innumerable splashes.

Before the shuttle cut its engines a team was running out of the building pushing a medical trolley out into the rain, hanging their heads to keep the water from their eyes. The ramp at the back of the shuttle thumped down, bouncing once on the concrete floor beneath. Men in military uniform piled out from between the lightly smoking thrusters and fanned out before dropping to their knees with rifles armed and ready. They were not going to take any chances.

The stretcher was rushed into the shuttle and emerged again moments later weighed now with an occupant, a blackened and wounded individual in a torn uniform covered in wires, tubes and medical apparatus. A mask covered the patients face providing a stream of highly oxygenated air as doctors and nurses rushed back to the building, slipping once or twice on the wet ground as the fighters continued circling overhead.

With them ran the ornate figure of a Warmaster keeping pace with the stretcher and doctors whilst bringing a small group of armed guards in his own wake. They passed into the building and entered the long plain corridors dripping wet, but none of them noticed. All their effort and concentration was on the stretcher and the patient there upon.

"I need an extra dose of adrenalin, right now!" The senior Doctor snapped brusquely. "We need to keep her heart going."

"Pulse is weakening!" Another doctor warned. "Blood pressure is falling fast!"

The twisted around a corner, rushing ever faster for the main medical wing of the structure as they tried to bring the patient around.

"Nurse! Where is that shot?"

"Here!" One of the attendants handed over a hefty syringe filled with a potent mixture of stimulants. The doctor took it and aimed it over his patients heart.

"Cure or kill." He muttered, then punched it into the failing patients chest and injected the mixture.

The body on the stretcher jolted as the stimulants kicked in, arching her back and taking a deep inhalation before dropping back down flat, her eyes searching to and fro in panic.

"She's back!" the nurse informed. "Blood pressure coming back up."

"We still need to get her into theatre, is everything ready?"

"Yes Doctor, the surgical and radiological team is standing by."

The middle aged Dilgar grunted in acknowledgement. "Lets hope we haven't left it too late."

Following the party Warmaster Sha'dur was beside himself with apprehension and dread. He opened and closed his fists in growing anxiety as he observed the Doctors struggling to keep the patient, his sister, alive and breathing. He knew relatively little about medicine, Jha'dur was the biologist, not him, but he knew enough to understand she was in extremely narrow straights. The collection of white tubes and beeping machines strapped and pushed into his sister made him feel ill, a sensation he had felt for the last few days as he brought what was left of his ships to Bestine to try and salvage something from this horrendous debacle.

Earth Force had dealt them a crushing defeat, destroying some three quarters of the Dilgar forces that tred to engage them at Markab for the loss of merely a hundred or so ships of their own with a few times more than that damaged. It was a bitterly one sided exchange and in a dark corner of his mind Sha'dur realised that the Dilgar had been doing the exact same thing to the League. Now they had finally run into an enemy as superior to them as they had been to the League.

He knew that it was not ships and technology that had beaten the League, but skill at arms, confidence and superior tactics. The Dilgar won because they understood how to fight and the League had not. Now it seemed that the Imperium had found an opponent who understood even more clearly the art of war and had used that strength and cunning to crush the Rimward expansion fleets.

It was a perfect combination of human strength and Dilgar weakness. They had underestimated Earth Force, they had been so fixated on beating the human ships and technology they had not adequately accounted for the skills and training of the people crewing and commanding those ships. They had expected humanity to abide by the Dilgar plan and not think for themselves, that was just impolite. Instead they had created a situation that had fooled the Dilgar, pulled them in and then destroyed them. It was a hard lesson in how a real military wages war, and one Sha'dur was not likely to forget.

That frail figure on the stretcher was all the reminding he needed of how close to utter disaster he had come. Losing so many veteran ships and crews was a blow he doubted the Imperium would ever adequately recover from. This was their high mark, the turning point of the war and the Dilgar had nowhere left to go except down. But with the remaining ships they could try to hold their own and force the humans into an attritional war they couldn't win. If they had lost Jha'dur however, the Imperium was as good as doomed.

He had watched the massive Nuclear strike go over his fleet and impact the retreating vessels under his sisters command, and he had seen the sky turn white as thousands of weapons detonated among and around the fleet in a saturation pattern designed to leave noting intact. It had done a good job, the two fleets caught in the attack had effectively ceased to exist.

It had been such a shock, such a monumental commitment he hadn't even conceived of it before. He had seen that level of destruction before, ordered the bombardment of whole worlds with Mass Drivers which caused tremendous death and destruction. But to release that kind of firepower on a battle field to destroy ships rather than wipe out cities and population centres, it had given him a disturbing insight into what it was to fight Earth.

The overwhelming lesson he left with was that Earth was not going to stop. They would do anything to win, they would fire every missile they had, throw every ship and soldier into battle. They would bankrupt their government, strip their planets of resources and use any weapon at their disposal. They had proven innovative, fearless, clever and willing to see this through to the end. Earth was a Juggernaut and it had started to roll towards Omelos, fighting it head on was not going to work. He needed another strategy but right now his mind was locked on just one thing.

It was by a miracle the Dreadnought Deathwalker had survived. The flagship had been in the middle of the fleet and subject to dozens of missiles exploding around it, scraping weapons, engines and armour from its hull. Yet the vessel had remained intact at its core, largely due to the rest of the fleet nearby converging on the flagship and forming a barrier, a shield of ships around it to absorb most of the attack. It had worked, and though those ships had all been lost the flagship had survived and was towed into hyperspace.

Rescue operations had started immediately, even as the hulk was towed through hyperspace rescue teams flew over and began burning through to bring out survivors. It was extremely dangerous using plasma torches in hyperspace, but the gains far outweighed the risks as the teams gained entry and proceeded into the ship looking for survivors.

There were a few in the outer parts of the hull, despite being protected from the destructive energies of the nuclear strike the ship had still been bathed in harsh radiation. As they worked their way deeper into the ship battling zero gravity and cutting through twisted supports and collapsed corridors the radiation grew less intense until finally they found the command bridge at the heart of the well protected warship.

Within they found the room heavily damaged but still habitable. Pieces of debris floated along with bodies, but at the centre still strapped into the command station was Jha'dur. She was alive, but barely. The rescue teams immediately pulled her free and took her to Sha'dur's Dreadnought where the best doctors in the fleet stabilised her enough so she survived the trip to Bestine and the more extensive medical facilities on the ground where she was right now.

However there was still no guarantee she would live and given the number of times she had nearly died in the last few hours it still looked very grim. The Humans could not have asked for a more complete victory.

The world was one of muffled noise and hazy light, growing brighter and darker in a rhythmic pattern as indistinct sounds rose and fell like the waves of an ocean washing over a beach. Jha'dur had a sensation of movement as she was pulled by nature to one side while turning hard around a corner, and was gradually more aware that she herself was not controlling this movement. With an intensity of will she tried to separate out her senses, unwinding the different strands of sight and sound into distinct sensations and not a confusing homogenous mass. Her mind was as active as it had ever been, but with her body teetering on the brink of shutting down there was very little she could do to show the world she was still thinking and planning.

It had all gone to hell and it was all her fault. She could lay here blaming herself for the rest of her life, which looked like it was going to be quite a short guilt trip, or she could try to do something about it. Her fleet was probably gone, she didn't know for sure but the final strike by Earth didn't leave much room for ambiguity. They were dead, they had followed her faithfully through the hard battles of this war never failing to deliver, and she had brought them to a cheap death. No commander would ever find a way to live with that. So she did not try.

Guolt wasn't going to bring them back, what she needed to do as quite possibly her final act was to ensure the remaining Dilgar ships did not go the same way. As her body wavered between life and death her mind battle delirium by focusing on the battle and drawing lessons from it. Standard Dilgar tactics that had worked so well against the League were now useless against Earth, the human ships had proven the very antithesis of Dilgar doctrine. Where the Dilgar emphasised closing in at high speed and showering opponents at close range so too did Earth put an emphasis on massive close range firepower. Only they did it better.

The heavily armoured and multi gunned Earth ships would defeat several Dilgar vessels at close range, it was simple suicide to try and fight them on their own terms. What the Dilgar did have was a speed advantage and Jha'dur decided that would have to suffice.

Unfortunately while she now had a head full of new tactics developed over the days of her travel she had no way to communicate those plans. She could hardly move, let alone control her body enough to write or speak. She had devoted massive reserves of strength and will to the task of speaking, something so simple and so taken for granted that her inability to perform such a simple task drove home the desperate situation she was in. She had never made so much effort in her life, all for the easiest of everyday activities.

Suddenly though the massive jolt of drugs administered by the doctor gave her clarity, a brief window on the world that let her see clearly around her. She saw the masked doctors leaning over her and made out one or two words. She saw the roof flying past as she was wheeled through endless corridors and as she glanced around more and more she caught from the corner of her eye the dark blue and gold of a Warmaster.

It was a curious feeling, but she had known Sha'dur was alive. How she knew was a mystery, but the fact he was chasing along after her was no surprise. Her vision was already fading so she took action, reaching out in his direction. He did not need much more of a hint and rushed t her side.

"Sister? Do you hear me?"

She nodded. "Listen…" the word parted her lips, she delivered it with huge effort but it emerged with the sound of the barest whisper.

"The Doctors will help you." Her brother said, clearly distressed. "I have demanded the best in the Imperium, specialists each one, you will be fine."

"Don't… fight… Earth."

"Your ship is safe, we rescued more than half of them." Sha'dur continued, seemingly oblivious to Jha'dur's directions. "Captain An'jash also survived."

"Hit… and run brother." She barely managed. "No… even battle…."

"Everything will be alright, you will be back in command very soon." He managed a smile. "That is my promise to you."

"Retreat…." She continued, her eyes wide in fear that he could not hear her. "Abandon…. Bestine… retreat to… Mitoc."

"I will be waiting for you."

"Brother… listen!"

"You are strong, marshal that strength not for the Imperium, but now just for yourself. Stay with us, we need you more than never. I do too."

She desperately tried to shout, to scream her warning, to deliver what she had seen and learned, but it was to no avail. She was locked in a prison of her own making, one from which there was no escape. Her body began to close down again, the momentary control she had exercised fading as her mind retreated back down into her subconscious again. The last few things she heard before the haze returned were the doctors telling her brother to stand clear.

"Warmaster, understand me." The senior Doctor manhandled him aside. "You cannot go beyond this point."

"That is my Sister!" He yelled and pointed at the stretcher disappearing through a doorway. "That is your Warmaster!"

"And she is going into the operation theatre, it is a sterile environment, no one can enter except fully trained doctors and nurses."

"I can't leave her side!"

"You must, you have to let us do our job." The Doctor said. "I am the foremost expert on Radiation sickness in this galaxy. She is in the best care."

Sha'dur stepped back, allowing the doctor to release his grip. "Will she live?"

The Doctor looked at him plainly. "Her exposure was intense, another couple of hours and she would have been dead. Her Radiation poisoning is extremely severe, even if we stabilise her now the long term effects may well kill her in five to ten years."

"But you can do it?"

"I have never saved anyone this far gone." The Doctor admitted. "But your sister has a strong will to survive, and the Supreme Warmaster sent his own personal Doctor. He will arrive soon with some experimental drugs."

Sha'dur looked to the doors, he could see very little beyond and that only played deeper on his imagination and fears.

"I have to go now." The Doctor said. "I am needed in there."

"Very well Doctor." The Warmaster said formally. "Save her life, or start running for your own."

With a grim nod showing no concern at the threat the Doctor turned and moved briskly through the doors leaving Sha'dur and his entourage stood in the corridor.

Slowly he turned to the half dozen guards who had joined him, among the best soldiers in the Imperium.

"Guard all the exits." He stated. "Check every identity card. Anything suspicious does not pass. If they try to force past, kill on sight."

The group nodded and moved silently away. As they departed Sha'dur felt a pressure on his shoulder, the weight of a hand but with no sign of it's owner.

"Arn'dal." He said to thin air. "I leave you to your own devices as usual. Deploy your Spectres as you see fit, keep her safe. Nothing else matters."

The pressure increased slightly in acknowledgement, then vanished. Arn'dal was the commander of Jha'dur's Spectres, the most feared covert operations group in the galaxy. Even Earth Force was wary of them thanks to their stealth suits. These exotic devices rendered them invisible to sight and scans with no known counter, only a vague theory that a type of canine beast native to Earth seemed to be able to sense a stealthed Spectre.

Arn'dal had been recruiting a new member during the battle and had not been with Jha'dur, the operative who had taken his place had been killed in action. Now though he had arrived in force and was going to make damn sure nothing happened to his Warmaster, he had failed once. Not again. He and his Spectres were totally loyal to Jha'dur, not the Council or even the Supreme Warmaster. Just her.

With his sister now as safe as she was going to be Sha'dur turned his back and walked away, heading for the canteen to find some food. He felt no hunger but common sense told him to eat and keep his strength. He couldn't remember his last meal, it was probably a long time ago.

He passed numerous officers and men on the way but barely noticed them and certainly did not have the strength or clarity to salute them. He wandered into the canteen and grabbed a ration pack from one of the counters, the Mess staff wisely not asking for him to pay. Then he thumped down at a table and started eating resentfully.

It took him a few moments to notice someone had sat down opposite him. Under most circumstances Sha'dur preferred to pick his own company and disliked people sitting opposite him without permission. As a Warmaster that tended not to happen much, today was different and he was in absolutely no mood to be troubled.

"Leave or I'll have you executed." He said by way of greeting.

"Hardly a warm welcome." The man opposite returned with a sigh. "And I could have you arrested for suggesting it."

Sha'dur raised his eyes to take in the face of his visitor, finding absolutely no happiness in the recognition.

"Len'char. Don't you have a rock you should be hiding under?"

"Hardly." The self serving Warmaster replied. "I am on official business as a Warmaster of the Council."

"Well that makes a first."

Len'char smiled thinly. "Whatever your sister may have implied, my loyalties have never wavered from the cause of our race."

"And if you line your pockets in the process, well, where's the harm in that?" Sha'dur mocked. "I am still shocked you are on the council, Tor'han or Dal'shan would be far better suited than you."

"they recognize my value."

"Meaning you bribed them?" Sha'dur raised an eyebrow. "Predictable, now if you don't mind…"

"Well then, I'll get on with it." Len'char beamed. "You are now in command of this front."

Sha'dur glared at him. "My sister is in command."

"Not anymore, due to her… situation the Council has placed you in charge of the fleet."

"And the reason you are giving me this news and not a messenger is because…?"

"Because I have been given control of all rimward territories."

Sha'dur was tired, anxious and emotionally drained. It did not stop him physically leaping from his chair and slamming both fists on the table.

"Jha'dur controls all rimward planets and ships!"

"No, the Council has decided I control Planets and you control ships." Len'char said in calm tones. "Which means you will be responsible to me from now on, not your sister."

"Fleet officers have seniority over planetary commanders."

"Not in this case." Len'char replied evenly. "As senior Warmaster in the sector I have overall command, but don't concern yourself. I will not interfere in the running of your fleet."

"Last time you interfered thousands died. We recovered from that mistake." Sha'dur referenced the events before the Drazi counter attack. "Make a similar mistake in the face of Earth Force, and we all die."

"Yes the humans, I hear they have some skill?"

"I went in with three thousand of our best ships. Seven hundred came out. So yes, they do have some skill."

"What condition are they in?" Len'char wondered.

"Most need repairs, some minor, a few major." Sha'dur answered. "The crews are exhausted and lucky to be alive, as soon as Home Fleet arrives I'll be pulling them out of action for at least a month to recover."

"Home Fleet is not coming." Len'char stated. "So you will remain in action."

Sha'dur began to understand why his sister revelled in the idea of killing this man.

"What?"

"The Home Fleet will hold at Mitoc, along with the First Line Fleet."

"We need those ships here, Bestine is the obvious target, it's a jump nexus!" Sha'dur spat. "It's the gateway to the League! Earth has to take it to keep attacking, their only other option is to use the circuitous route through Markab, Vree and Yolu space! It would be murder on their supplies. They will come for this world."

"Probably, but the Council have ordered it."

"Neither myself or Jha'dur voted."

"You were obviously busy, so we took the decision without you."

"Is that the Councils choice, or yours Len'char?"

The smaller Warmaster smiled. "They are one and the same, the Council sees things my way."

"I will appeal to the Supreme Warmaster."

"Sadly that is impossible." Len'char feigned a sigh. "As we speak Gar'shan is on his death bed."

"No! It is a lie!" Sha'dur snapped "I must talk to him!"

"The news of his middle sons death, and then hearing that the front had collapsed and his prize student was all but dead, well, it caused a massive Cardiac arrest." Len'char shook his head. "His final words before he lost consciousness was an amendment to the Council, he asked for you in person to command the fleets."

"Me?"

"Be glad, I had another Warmaster ready to take command. His last words saved your position. He must have faith in you."

Sha'dur nodded. "Or absolutely no faith in you and your allies."

Len'char scoffed in harsh amusement. "Not that it matters, he will be gone soon and the council will vote for a new Supreme Warmaster. I shall be putting myself forward."

"I'll vote for Dar'sen."

"I thought as much." Len'char shrugged. "Still, that is for the future. You have your fleet, plus the thousand ships of the First Guard fleet in orbit above. That should be quite sufficient to hold this world."

"Are you completely retarded in some way that escapes medical science?" Sha'dur snarled. "A Guard Fleet? Third rate ships crewed with raw recruits and political allies too incompetant for a real command? You want me to hold Bestine with those?"

"Are you saying you can't?"

"I am saying that Earth turned two of our best fleets into junk without breaking much of a sweat. You ask me to fight them with rookies, misfits and exhausted warriors and expect me to win? You are a bigger fool than I thought. And I thought you were pretty damn big as fools go."

"Then perhaps I should relieve you of command?" Len'char wondered. "Give your precious Strike fleet to the next officer in line, which would be me."

Sha'dur stiffened. "Under your command they'd die in a heartbeat. You will not take my ship or my crews."

"Then I suggest you obey the Councils orders." Len'char grinned. "My orders."

"This is madness."

"This is reality." Len'char countered. "Will you obey, or not?"

The young Warmaster glared at Len'char, it was an impossible choice. Lead his forces into a hopeless battle or let them be thrown away even more hopelessly by this fool.

"The Supreme Warmaster gave you a bond of trust." Len'char smiled like a shark closing on a wounded meal. "Will you defy his orders?"

"Gar'shan is wise enough to see a battle that can't be won."

"Yet he gave you command of the fleet." Len'char pointed out. "He must have faith in your skills, he must see something in you. Why else would he give you all the ships in this sector?"

That single off hand comment suddenly caused something to click inside. Suddenly he knew exactly why Gar'shan would put him in charge.

"You say you will not interfere with military decisions?"

"Of course not." Len'char nodded. "Gar'shan's word is still law while he draws breath."

"So I may run my ships and battles as I see fit?"

"As long as you obey my orders, yes."

"And those orders are?"

"Meet Earth in defensive battle over this world." Len'char said. "The specifics are up to you."

"I see." Sha'dur kept a grim face, but inside he was smiling. In his last moment of consciousness Gar'shan might well have just saved the Imperium from Len'chars meddling.

"This responsibility was given to you Sha'dur." The smaller male said sombrely. "By your leaders, your adopted family even. For your sisters honour do not disgrace your name by turning like a coward. If you step down you will be stripped of rank and thrown in jail."

"I am no coward." Sha'dur growled. "You will have your battle."

"Then we are sure to win." He stood and prepared to leave. "I'll be on Mitoc establishing our new seat of government, good luck Sha'dur. I won't interfere in your plans."

Len'char left with a massive grin, feeding Sha'dur to Earth Force cleared away one more enemy, and kept his hands clean. He laughed under his breath. With Gar'shan succumbing to his poison and Jha'dur critically injured it looked neither would be in this world much longer, and he could always give them a helping hand. The Council would be his, and with eight to one in his favour Dar'sen was irrelevant. It was all working out perfectly, and as long as Mitoc held Earth was an inconvenience at worst, a useful political tool at best.

"Too easy."

"Too easy." Sha'dur grinned, then looked around and made his way out of the canteen in the hall he found Captain Evenil stood a few paces away keeping a respectful distance.

"I hope the news is good Warmaster." She began.

"Only time will tell." He answered grimly. "But we can do our bit to help. The Supreme Warmaster has given me a job, I must continue what my sister started and save our Imperium from Len'char's grasp."

"Sir?" Evenil frowned.

"He is sending us on a suicide mission, he wants me dead and will sacrifice another two fleets to do it." Sha'dur grimaced. "But Gar'shan gave me a way out."

"I heard we are being ordered to make a stand here with only the ships in system."

"We are." Sha'dur confirmed. "However Len'char has rather foolishly allowed me to dictate our tactics and strategy, thanks to the Supreme Warmaster's intervention."

"How does that help against Earth Force sir?"

"Len'char expects me to try a flank attack, or a layered defence, or some sort of action designed to stop the humans. Shall I tell you which tactic we will use?" He grinned widely. "Fighting retreat."

"But he wants us to hold Bestine."

"I also would prefer to hold it, but we can't. It becomes a military decision. I control the fleets, he controls the planets. He can hold Bestine with his own forces. I have final say on the fleets, and this fleet will withdraw while trying to buy some time and inflict losses on the humans."

Evenil shook her head. "Still a tall order sir."

"I know, but the ships are worth more than this world. Len'char is leaving soon. When he goes start evacuating useful personnel."

"Yes sir."

"As soon as the Doctors are done here, I want my sister transferred to Mitoc under heavy guard. Make sure the Spectres find her a suitable room to recover in. one where she won't be disturbed by unwanted guests."

"Understood."

"I'll fulfil the Councils orders and fight the humans." Sha'dur said. "For all of ten minutes before we run. And then, when my sister recovers, then we'll see how well Len'char can hold his position in the council. Or how long he keeps his head on his shoulders. This has gone on long enough, when this is done we'll give Len'char his just reward."

Markab Home System

The alien did not perceptively move when he spoke. "Your salvage companies must be pleased with this business opportunity."

As far as David Sheridan was concerned of all the alien races Earth had encountered the Vree best looked the part. They were quite small, incredibly frail looking, had bulbous bald heads, tiny holes for their nostrils and mouths and possessed a pair of huge black eyes set in their grey skin. They could have walked straight out of an old movie and fit in perfectly with aliens in early human popular culture.

Of course it turned out there was good reason for that, according to the Centauri the Vree had actually visited Earth some centuries ago but found little worth trading for, so left it alone after prodding some people, eating some cattle and failing to adequately calculate the speed of a landing at some little place called Roswell.

The Vree themselves had said very little on the subject, but their saucer shaped ships seemed to corroborate the Centauri tale and set a great many rumours to rest. It hadn't really hurt trade though, and while humanity had scant contact with the Vree they had managed to get on relatively well in their few meetings.

However while their look was other worldly their sensibilities were not. The Vree were businessmen first and foremost and Sheridan found that to be the secret to dealing with them. He ignored their appearance, the fact they used a translator to speak as most races understodd the concept, and appeared to all look remarkably similar, and instead focused on what mattered to them. Good old fashioned profits. In that way they were not unlike quieter versions of the Brakiri.

"Earth has claimed universal salvage rights on all ships we destroyed." Sheridan informed. "As you can see, we're going to make quite a profit in terms of raw materials and technology."

Sheridan knew that made the Vree bristle. "Pity you left them mostly in small pieces."

"Unavoidable consequence of our victory." Sheridan shrugged. "One that will be repeated again and again."

The Vree remained entirely unscrutable. "That is an impressive boast Ambassador."

"One we are more than able to back up, as you can see for yourself."

They stood on a Markab space station staring out through the wide windows that had once offered tourists and Pilgrims a calming scene to hold prayers before. Now it showed the wrecks of hundreds of ships, a glittering tapestry of light glinting from the dead.

"One battle Ambassador does not win a war."

"On the contrary, in human history it surely does." Sheridan replied. "Of course there may be other battles afterwards, but I can name a hundred decisive battles where the fates of nations were decided in just a few hours. This was one of them."

With news of the victory the League Ambassadors had proceeded at once from Earth to Markab to see this event for themselves and finally bear witness to the fruit of their efforts. EarthGov had sent its own man with them, David Sheridan, and in doing so had turned this collection of representatives into a more solid voice in opposition to the Dilgar. They weren't just negotiators anymore, they were now the representatives of a warmachine which had spilt its first blood. Their words now had depth to them, when they spoke of overturning the Dilgar before it was simply wishful thinking. Now, with Earth Force behind them, it was a statement of fact.

"This is the day we promised you would come." Ambassador Itala said, the Abbai and de facto leader of the League efforts added to Sheridan's statements. "As we said, the Dilgar are overstretched and the right strength in the right place would break them. Now you see that it has."

The Vree had already tried once to break through a Dilgar line and had failed, but despite that they still possessed a very large and very potent combat force at least equal to a Dilgar combat fleet in terms of numbers. They had pulled back to their homeworld and dug in waiting for the assault that never came, and the ships that would have assaulted Vreetan now spun lifeless and hollow before the victorious human forces.

"The humans were outnumbered." Itala continued. "This fleet was led by Jha'dur, the Deathwalker herself. They were her ships, her most skilled and ruthless acolytes. They had overcome everything, slain all who had stood before them, all until this day. Earth stopped them, not be guile or subtlety, but by the very tools the Dilgar themselves thought they had mastered."

"Good old brute force." Sheridan said. "And the training to know when and how to use it."

"The Vree wanted to see a victory against the Dilgar before committing fully." Itala said. "Well here it is delivered in most impressive style. The best they had, killed in one battle."

The Vree nodded slightly. "I do not deny it is impressive."

"So Ambassador Xyton, you know what I am going to ask." Sheridan began. "Now we have proven we can beat the Dilgar, now we have inflicted massive losses, now we have driven back and maybe killed their greatest leader, have we shown the Vree that this is a war the Dilgar cannot win?"

The small alien kept his gaze fixed beyond the window.

"War is like business, you can never tell the end result until the market closes."

"But you can tip the stocks by investing heavily in the corporation you favour." Sheridan countered. "After tis performance, who do you think has the best stock options in a long term future?"

General Denisov and the Joint Chiefs were confident Earth could win this war alone. They had the ships, the crews and the resources to grind down the Dilgar with a slow and steady advance right to Omelos. Naturally it would be hard, Earth would need to take each world in turn, establish a supply base, build up new resources for each planet hop and then attack in force. It relied on overwhelming firepower and destroying Dilgar worlds and bases. Catching the faster Dilgar fleets wa sunlikely with EA ships, but by hitting bases Earth hoped the Dilgar would be forced into battle or their ships would eventually run out of fuel and supplies as all their bases fell to humanity.

However human strategy looked a little different if they could recruit more of the surviving League races, the Markab were a welcome addition to the fleet but the real prize was the Vree. They could bring the equivalent of two full human fleets into action immediately, and while those ships were small and fragile compared to EA warships and as such less effective in open battle, they were extremely fast and very well armed. Perfect raiders.

The Markab and Vree would cover a whole in human capabilities, that of heavy fast attack. Starfuries armed with anti-ship missiles were considered useful enough in human doctrine, but they were a substitute because Earth engine technology couldn't make a real fast attack warship. The Markab and Vree however fielded nothing but ships that fell into this category. Earth could win without them, but if they did join the fleet it would make victories much easier.

But as the Markab had been ravaged by war their contribution would be small for a fe wmonths yet, but the Vree could start fighting straight away and allow Earth to keep the Dilgar on the back foot, hitting them before they could recover from their disastrous loss here at Markab.

"War is expensive." Xyton remarked. "A big expenditure for little gain."

"Depends how long term you look." Sheridan said. "And on the alternatives."

The Vree made an expression which could have been curiosity, it was hard to tell. "In what way?"

"Your people traded a lot in the League, it was why you joined." Sheridan stated. "How much trade you been doing lately?"

The grey creature seemed to nod. "Much less, the Dilgar do not trade with us. We tried, they refused."

Itala held her temper at the admission, while their capriciousness brought her to anger this was not the time to display it. She let Sheridan continue.

"So I take it profits are down?"

"The economy is in danger of extreme recession."

"And if you found a market for guns, Warships, Fuel, Materials? Bet that would help."

Xyton agreed. "I believe I see your proposal."

"With the Dilgar calling the shots your trading days are over, even if they don't invade you after this." The human observed. "But by fighting, sure it'll cost you but you keep your economy out of free fall, and all that cash you can make back after the war."

"How?"

"Reconstruction." Sheridan said. "As one of the few untouched League worlds the Vree will be expected to provide help rebuilding damaged colonies and replacing destroyed freighters on trade routes."

"For a fee."

"Of course." Sheridan nodded. "SO you see the opportunity here? Invest now in beating the Dilgar, create a new market and keep your economy buoyant. Sounds a good deal to me."

Xyton turned to regard Sheridan. "I will consult my government now."

"Please do." He stood aside and let the small alien leave, walking in an oddly graceful and light fashion as if the Vree weighed nothing.

"An interesting negotiation technique." Itala complimented. "Appealing to their greed, we should have explored that in more depth."

"It's greed and fear." Sheridan said. "We had to first show them they didn't have to be afraid of the Dilgar. They like money, but they like living a lot more."

"It was not worth the risk until we delivered a victory."

"Precisely Ambassador." Sheridan confirmed. "I think they'll come onboard."

"And then we proceed with the liberation?"

"We do."

For Itala it was more than she could have wished for, not only had she finally managed to bring a race into the war that could beat the Dilgar, they had done it in superb fashion. When News came through the Dilgar had sent their best ships to beat Earth Force and Deathwalker was commanding in person she had feared the worst, worried that she had brought death and genocide to one more innocent race. She need not have been so concerned, it was a victory beyond her wildest expectations.

"Do you know the plan Ambassador Sheridan?" She wondered.

"Only in general terms." He answered. "We're going to Bestine, and soon. Few days at most I think, as soon as we've repaired some of the light damage and taken on more supplies from Earth."

"Those missiles…" She tailed off.

"No, I'm afraid it's going to be a while until we can restock those." Sheridan said. "We're assembling our reserves, we can probably do it once more before we use every nuclear missile we have available. I expect Admiral Hamato will save it for a special occasion."

"He is an extraordinary warrior." Itala paid tribute. "All of them are." She gestured at the fleet.

"We do our part." Sheridan smiled. "But if you'll excuse me I need to get the papers of alliance prepared, something for the Vree and Markab to sign."

"And one day hopefully all the League." Itala nodded. "Thank you Ambassador. For all your considerable help."

"It had to be done." He nodded. "For all our sakes."

For a few minutes Itala was alone by the window staring away into space. One of the stars out there was her home still in the grip of the Dilgar, but now that grip was loosening and every ship lost relieved a little pressure on the struggling League homeworlds. She knew Sshumssha had enough resources to keep fighting for over a year, hopefully long enough to reach them, but things on Brakir and Cascor were likely more desperate. And as for Alaca and Balos…

"Am I interrupting a thought?"

Itala saw reflected in the window Commander Lelant, only known Captain of the Alacan fleet to make it to safety.

"Nothing that didn't need an interruption." She smiled. "Is everybody well?"

"Most are sleeping." He answered. "Tullaq is investigating a damaged Starfury. She seems impressed."

"The human fighters are a clever design, I can see a Cascan ace like her being intrigued."

"Like she's gone to heaven." Lelant chuckled. "The humans did well."

"The understatement of the millennium Commander." Itala returned. "To quote a human officer I heard, they kicked ass and took names."

"What does that mean?"

"I haven't a clue." The old Abbai shrugged. "But I take it as positive."

"I was speaking to a human officer." The Alacan lowered his voice. "Do you know how much this battle cost them?"

"Ambassador Sheridan gave me an indication." Itala said. "I am sure their Senate is about to get a very long bill for replacement munitions."

"More than that I think." Lelant continued. "Human ships weren't built for invasions. What we see now, the fleet pausing to take on supplies, that is something that will only get worse."

"Get worse?" Itala wondered. "Forgive me, I am not a military officer."

"A fleet wins battles with tactics and ships, but they win wars through supplies." Lelant explained. "Earth ships are ferociously powerful, but all that power is produced inefficiently. The Cruisers are not too badly effected, and the Corvettes are apparently designed with large fuel and cargo bays. But the Dreadnoughts it seems can only fight one real battle at a time before needing to refuel and rearm, all those lasers suck up fuel like a waterfall."

"And you are saying that will slow the humans down?"

"Yes, more and more." Lelant winced. "And while the humans pause, the Dilgar can regroup and make each battle harder than it has to be."

"Which is why the Vree and Markab are useful allies, they can disrupt Dilgar efforts to regroup."

"They can, but they can't win the war alone. The pace of the advance is completely dependant on how fast Earth can move its fleets and keep them armed."

"With aid from Markab they seem to be resupplying fast. I can confidently say the Abbai will render all aid the humans ask for."

"As will the Alacans, but as we advance and meet worlds that have been under siege for a long time, they won't have any supplies to offer even if they wanted to."

"Itala began to understand. "Surely the humans know this?"

"They do, and as the officer says they have made contingencies but would not discuss them. My concern is what the Digar will do when they learn. It could slow the advance."

Itala adjusted her robe and looked space wards. "The humans aren't going to stop, they know the Dilgar would hit back and not stop until Earth is dead. Even if it takes years they will push forward."

"The problem is while that saves Earth and beats the Dilgar, it might not save the rest of us in time."

"It has been on my mind." The Abbai admitted. "When we accomplish one impossible task it seems another one arrives for us to worry about. This is why we still have a job, to arrange for free League worlds to join Earth in doing all they can to speed the advance and keep human ships fighting for them."

Lelant followed her gaze out of the window. "The Dilgar really picked the wrong fleet to tangle with this time."

"I fear all we have done is awaken a sleeping Giant and fill him with terrible resolve."

"Ambassador?"

"Something I found while researching human history." Itala answered. "Earth has the numbers, skill, industry and infrastructure to wage a war on this magnitude for years, something only the Centauri can really match. I doubt even the Dilgar had the ability to keep this up much longer."

"A sleeping Giant sat on the edge of our space for all this time." Lelant surmised.

"And now it has been woken, and it is stretching its arms and preparing to exercise its strength."

"You think they will win?"

"From what I have seen? Yes." Itala answered firmly. "Eventually."

"And if they decide they want to replace the Dilgar and turn those ships and armies against us?"

"Then we won't have a chance. But it is a risk we must take. I would rather have human ships over my home than Dilgar ones anyday."

"I pray you are correct Ambassador." Lelant said.

"As do I." Itala agreed. "This is the end of the beginning, as another human once said, and we must all do our part to ensure what the humans have done is never reversed. Never."

She sighed. "We haven't won yet."


	66. Chapter 66

65

Sunrise over Tuzenore was quite simply the most heart soaringly beautiful spectacle that existed in the galaxy. As the pale sun climbed over the valley in which the city sat the rays of the bright orb touched on the cliffs of natural crystal and carved towers exploding into a myriad of colour. Minbar was a world of cold beauty, of ice and white sands that shimmered when seen from orbit, but the crystal cities had a life of their own, they had expressions and emotions revealed in the dancing lights of day and the passing of the sun.

But of all the cities and all the formations of crystal and spectacular natural panoramas there was nothing that could come close to Tuzenore. It was not the capitol of the Minbari Federation, an honour belonging to distant Yedor, but it wa sperhaps the heart and soul of the planet. It was a place of learning and meditation where scholars pondered and pilgrims wandered. Its citizens were the friendliest and most open, except perhaps for the small garrison of Warriors but the largely Religious Caste citizenry generally ignored them.

Day was a time to celebrate the beauty of this place, but at night the glory of Tuzenore became something even more soul stirring. The cliffs of the valley surrounding Tuzenore held onto the radiance of the sun, and after sunset they in turn emitted their own supernatural green and blue glow casting the city in a spiritual radiance. Only the crystals of Tuzenore appeared to have the internal structure to facilitate this unique and somewhat eerie ability and for many people Tuzenore was a haunted city, a dwelling place of lost souls.

In many ways it was just that, having being built on the site of the bloodiest battle in Minbari history. It was a memorial to the slain and a stern warning not to allow such mindless slaughter again. Tuzenore translated from the ancient Minbari languages meant 'City of Sorrows' and its fey lighting at night did nothing to dispel the myths of roaming spirits living in the surrounding cliffs. For a long time it was forgotten as nothing more than a curious shrine, until one particular man made his home here. Valen.

In the years and centuries since his passing Tuzenore had kept its air of mystery only aided by its enigmatic favourite son. Valen's home was now surrounded by the Headquarters of his Rangers, the Anla'shok, and the whole city had become something of a monument to the greatest of all Minbari. To walk in Tuzenore was to walk in the footsteps of Valen, to look upon what he looked upon and sit where he sat. The holiest of all sites on Minbar lay in Tuzenore, a tiny garden of stones created by Valen's own two hands a thousand years ago and lovingly cared for by the Rangers and Religious caste ever since.

Kadenn of the family Mir understood the gift he had been given by the universe to live and work in this place of destiny and reflection. Every dawn and every dusk he would break off from his work and offer silent thanks and prayer for this city and the dedicated people who tended and preserved it through the ages. It was the perfect union of nature and Minbari, an act of geography enhanced by the hands of his people with such care and respect that the creation of this place was more an act of prayer as opposed to construction. It was worthy of daily praise.

His home was modest as befitted a member of the Religious Caste and despite the fact he could have gained a much larger dwelling in Yedor by grace of his fairly influential clan, Kadenn would not give up this home in Tuzenore for the Palace of Yedor itself. He had done such inspirational work here surrounded by the light and wonder of the City of Sorrows he could not conceive never returning to its caring embrace.

As dawn passed he raised his face and caught some of the early rays through his open balcony, basking in the heat before standing from his prayer matt on the floor and returning to his work desk in a more shaded part of the room. On the desk was a large thickly bound book that he was illuminating, taking some of the most ancient scrolls from the Tuzenore archives and transferring their words to a more modern but still archaic format. As a religious scholar it was the duty of his heart to bring the knowledge and words of the ancient days to the touch of modern Minbar so the current generation could understand the old ways. He truly loved his work, and still looked on it with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy.

There were one or two things that annoyed him, foremost of which was the fact he had long been denied access to the oldest archives in Tuzenore buried beneath the principle shrine. For Kadenn these particular vaults were the holiest of holies said to contain manuscripts written by the hand of Valen himself, the absolute pinnacle of his life would be to read words in the hand of the most honourable and spiritual Minbari to have ever drawn breath. But the Caste elders had refused his every petition and had given him no reason why he would not share access to the vaults, and so Kadenn had become more and more bitter. His dark mood rarely lasted very long, the city around him saw to that, but it was still a serious obstacle in the pursuit of perfection which he continuously sought.

Still, his research into the less restricted archives had given him a unique position among scholars on Minbar and had elevated him to a rather well respected status among the Religious Caste. He found himself in demand for lectures and discussions on the subject of ancient Minbar and academies were queing up to have him visit them and impart some of his knowledge. It was that more than anything else that had prompted him to transfer some of the more notable scrolls into a new format so they could be distributed more freely. It also of course made a copy just incase some disaster befell the originals and that work was lost forever, a truly horrendous fate in the mind of a man like Kadenn.

He was so full of thoughts that it took him until he had sat down to notice that there was a movement in the adjoining room further in the house. He froze in place as he saw the sadow of someone cross the floor and pause in his living room, making no sound but quite clearly not a figment of his imagination. Crime on Minbar was all but nonexistent, Valens teachings about the unity of a people and helping each other meant any act that harmed others was all but unheard of. It did still sometimes happen much as the elders wanted to cover it up, but never, ever, in Tuzenore. For one thing the Rangers who trained here and walked the streets would quickly detect and apprehend any criminals, but yet here Kadenn was with an uninvited guest slinking around his home.

He was in no way a violent man, but the living room was filled with many rare scrolls detailing unique records of Minbari history. He could not risk harm coming to them so with slow and careful moves Kadenn rose from his desk and moved forward, aiming to take the intruder by surprise. Thankfully his wife and daughter had left before dawn to attend the celebration of Valeria, a female only event, so Kadenn needed just to worry about himself and history.

He paused at the threshold, listening carefully for the sounds of the intruder. He heard little but a few indistinct rustles confirmed there was a presence. He summoned up his courage, his resolcve to do the right thing and in honour of Valen who's bravery lived on in this city be threw himself around the corner to confront the criminal.

"My compliments Kadenn." The intruder said simply, not even looking around at the Minbari scholar. "This is the finest collection of etched pictures I have ever seen."

Kadenn stopped dead, rooted to the spot with his mouth swinging open.

"Of course the palace has much larger etchings, one is a hundred feet long carved into the crystal of the walls itself, but these, these are works made by the earliest of hands at the dawn of Minbari civilization. To have come so far, yet still glimpse the beauty of our distant past."

The tall stranger turned and held a piece of etched crystal up to the sun, watching the light cast a rainbow of colour through the room and pick out simple images of Minbari hunters chasing game.

"Do you know my face Kadenn?"

"Yes." The Scholar managed. "You are Satai Dukhat."

"That is correct Kadenn." The tall and broad Minbari confirmed. "Look at me."

"It is disrespectful honoured Satai."

"When I speak with you Kadenn, I prefer it if you address your answers to me, not your own feet. Now then, look up."

He did as he was told, looking into the eyes of the reasonably amused leader of the Minbari race.

"Now we can have a proper conversation." Dukhat said happily, replacing the etching on its display stand. "Why don't we sit down?"

"Please, after you Satai."

"My journey here was long and tiring." Dukhat informed as he found one of the low padded matts Minbari used in lieu of more common human or Centauri chairs. "But coming to Tuzenore always lifts my heart, don't you agree Kadenn?"

"It is a place of hope Satai."

"To dream in the City of Sorrows is to dream of a better future." Dukhat echoed. "So said Valen, and who are we to contradict?"

"My apologies for the state of my home Satai, if I had known…"

"Then it would have defeated the point of a surprise visit. Do you know why I am here?"

A thousand thoughts and possibilities assaulted Kadenn's mind, none of them particularly pleasant. A personal visit from a member of the Grey council was unheard of, let alone a member as prominent as Dukhat himself, Chosen of the Nine to lead through fire, darkness and death. Only the arrival of Valen himself would have been more extraordinary.

"I cannot presume to guess Satai."

"The Caste elders have been bringing certain requests to my attention." Dukhat said gravely, his deep voice dropping lower. "They tell me you have been insisting on access to the Tuzenore archives?"

Kadenn was falling into an utter panic. "Satai, forgive me, I mean no disrespect."

"And where your last petition was refused you lost your temper and threw a glass of water over Elder Tialdier?"

Kadenn's throat was as dry as a Brakiri desert. "Please Satai, I meant no harm, my passion simply overcame me."

"Actually I think Tialdier could use a glass of water now and again over the head." Dukhat grinned wryly. "It is rather satisfying to puncture such pomposity, is it not?"

Kadenn smiled a little.

"Of course it is!" Dukhat laughed. "I am not here to chastise you Kadenn, in fact I come to ask for your help."

"My help?" the scholar looked up in puzzlement. "What could the leader of the Nine want that only I can help with?"

"You are known as our foremost expert on the elder days Kadenn." Dukhat explained. "Much of what we have learned of our past in recent years is thanks to your meticulous research. I am here to ask you to help me find out some facts about our distant past. In return I will give you what you have asked for most."

"What is it you wish to know Satai?"

"I have studied Valen." The leader of Minbar stated. "His every word and action, every place he walked, and looked upon, and created. I have touched what he touched, I have held the holiest relics of our race and set foot upon the ship Valen took on his final journey from which he never returned. But there is still a mystery in his life, one mentioned only in passing despite its supreme importance."

Kadenn thought he knew where Dukhat was going, but did not interrupt.

"Vorlons." The bearded man stated. "I want to know everything we have on Vorlons. Not the myths or legends we all know from childhood, the base roots of the stories. I want to know what they really are."

"I understand."

"The Vorlons became known to us in Valens time, but the legends we hold that seem to link to Vorlons come from the elder das, that would be your area of expertise."

Kadenn nodded. "I will do all you ask Satai Dukhat."

"Good, then we will begin in the Tuzenore archive, come with me."

Dukhat stood, leaving Kadenn still sat, too stunned to move. Finally he would be able to look upon the place he most desired.

"Come Kadenn, unless there is somewhere else you would rather be?"

He saw Dukhats wry smile, knew this was in fact really happening, and jumped up to follow his leader into the heart of Minbari history.

The journey was brief thanks to Dukhats transport, the humming anti grav drives propelled them swiftly and safely across the city to the middle of the dwellings marked by the tall spire of the temple. They landed in the neighbouring Ranger school and were greeted by a handful of the sentinels, quite watchmen of the darkness holding firm until the day Valen returned to lead them once more.

"Satai Dukhat," a Ranger bowed as the Grey Council Leader stepped out into the daylight. "We have prepared the archives."

"Thank you Turval." He returned the bow. "Would you kindly lead the way."

The Ranger bowed again, then turned and led them towards a low building and a dark doorway.

"Only the Grey Council can access these archives." Dukhat spoke conversationally to Kadenn. "Even the Caste elders do not have a right to enter the archives, or grant access to others, which is no doubt why they grew more and more short tempered with you."

"I see Satai."

"The Rangers have guarded this place for a thousand years. Only twice before have I been here and never long enough to conduct a thorough examination. Today though, you and I will find our answers Kadenn."

The scholar nodded, to be walking into such a place was to be a part of history. It made him feel incredibly small and insignificant, the statues of hooded Rangers and inscribed names on stones reminding him of the glory and sorrow of these stoic warriors.

The archives were at the end of a long sloping tunnel leading underground through the carved crystal. Ahead Turval held aloft a torch lighting the way and playing tricks of light on the gleaming walls. At the end they came upon an old wooden door bolted shut with an ancient lock. Under Turvals light Dukhat removed a long metal key and placed it in the door.

"Forgive my ignorance Satai, but there is only a key locking the door to the archives?"

"A single key and a single door." Dukhat said. "It is not the lock that is strong, it is the guards." He nodded to Turval. "Any who wish to see this archive must first pass the Rangers who are sworn to keep it safe. That security is greater than any other I can imagine."

The door swung open on its hinges smoothly as if it had been fitted merely days ago. Inside the crystal walls cast a clean and slightly blue light which was more than enough to see and read by.

"Turval, I ask you to watch this door and our way out." Dukhat said formally.

"In Valens name." The Ranger bowed solemnly, and allowed the other two Minbari to enter.

"Tread softly." Dukhat said, even his voice hushed in reverence at the scene. "For we walk in a place holy to Valen."

Kadenns feelings were a mix of joy and excitement at seeing this place, and terror lest he break something irreplaceable. He walked behind Dukhat seeing the walls lined with shelves and free standing cabinets dotting the room among desks and hard slabs of crystal to sit on.

"Here," Dukhat pointed to a collection of scrolls. "Here are the first laws Valen made at the founding of the Grey Council, the words and documents our society is based on written here first by the hand of Valen."

Kadenn was speechless.

"The treaties that formed the Army of Light." Dukhat pointed to more scrolls. "The first dictates of the first Grey Council, the ordering of the Castes, the battle orders for the assault on Z'Ha'Dum that ended the war, the final writings of Valen on Minbar, and here, these two chests."

Kadenn looked wide eyed at two silver boxes.

"They were left by Valen with instructions not to be opened for an exact amount of time." Dukhat said. "Nobody knows what is in them, they will not be opened for another thirty years or so."

"I…I cannot imagine what wisdom he had."

"He turned our society into what it is today, saved us from darkness and provided us with the laws to endure a thousand years. Yet we have no images of him, only his words. We know nothing of the man himself. All we do know comes from these archives. In time you may read them, but first we must proceed deeper to the time before Valen, to the ancient archives that Valen preserved for our future."

They walked past the historic records to see a much older collection. They had been treated with chemicals under Valens orders to prevent them deteriorating further as they were already old in his day, but they were still in many places hard to read. They were the most sacred of old religious texts and because they had been kept by the greatest Minbari ever to live they had been put with Valens other archives after his departure.

"You can see their age and how difficult it will be to read them." Dukhat observed as Kadenn settled down. "Also many of the dialects are strange, I cannot translate them but I am hoping you can."

"I will do my best Satai."

"I ask nothing more."

Slowly he began opening the scrolls while Dukhat looked on.

"I was speaking to Draal recently." The Satai spoke. "He speaks very highly of your daughter."

"Of Delenn?"

"He says she is the best of his students, the best ever in fact. That is high praise from Draal indeed. I was only slightly above average in his reckoning."

"Surely not!"

Dukhat laughed. "Draal speaks his mind, constantly in fact." He continued to grin. "Getting a word in past Draal is like dodging asteroids in a flyer, a futile and one sided task."

"Delenn has mentioned he speaks rather a lot."

"But usually always with reason." Dukhat returned. "Yet I hear Delenn is the only person to match him and counter every point he makes. A remarkable child you have there Kadenn, I see a bright future for her among our people."

Kadenn smiled in pride, to have reached the notice of Dukhat then his young Delenn must have done something very right.

"There are some mentions here of Valeria visiting one of the early cities." He found. "But it is written as an eyewitness account, not a legend."

"Good work Kadenn, that is exactly what I was looking for." Dukhat smiled. "I believe that these early legends are in fact Vorlons visiting us in our early days ten thousand years ago."

"Why would they do so?"

"That is what I want to know too. Keep reading, see what else you can find."

Kadenn returned to the ancient piece of parchment, a question forming in his mind. He wasn't sure whether he should ask, but so far the Great Dukhat had been very open and friendly.

"Satai, if I may ask, why are you researching this now?"

"A good question." He answered. "Do you know the prophecy? In fact it is on a manuscript over there, it tells us that in a thousand years the Shadows will return and we must fight them again."

"I have heard it, yes Satai."

"Well that day has been getting closer. Many have forsaken Valen's words but I am not about to discard them so carelessly. We must begin to prepare our forces and our people for this inevitable conflict."

"You believe it will come? Even though we have only the word of Valen?"

"It is enough." Dukhat affirmed. "But we must know where we stand before we fight. We must try to find out about our enemies the Shadows and their places of power, but before then I want to know about our allies."

"Vorlons."

"Exactly." Dukhat smiled. "They are myths and legends almost as much as the Shadows, yet we know both are real and both have interacted with us. We cannot fight legends, but neither of these two races is a legend at heart, we have just made them that way. I want the truth, the being at the core of all this so I can understand them and make our people ready for what lies ahead."

Kadenn swallowed nervously. "Another Shadow war?"

"I think so."

"With respect, we're going to need to do a lot of preparing."

"I know." Dukhat said. "But that I feel is why I am here, to start us on the path to this war and prepare all Minbari for what lies ahead."

He looked around.

"We must listen to Valen, to his words that echo in this place and his deeds which live on in the stars. He went before us and rose to the challenge, we must not disappoint him. If all prophecy is correct Valen will return as Entil'zha and lead us once more. But until that day we alone must lead and follow, and that scares me Kadenn. It really does."

Kadenn didn't like the isdea of the most respecte dof his race feeling fear.

"You know what is happening. The Narn and Centauri are ready to kill each other, and this Dilgar race is killing all in their path. The stars are already swimming in blood, this is how it always starts. The Shadows are moving Kadenn, and we must be ready to meet them. In Valens name."

Bestine

Dilgar defence line

"That was our final piece of telemetry from the hyperspace probes." Captain Evenil delivered the data to her Warmaster. "Earth Force will be here in minutes."

Warmaster Sha'dur took the expected news with a nod, so familiar was this position to him, every segment of uneven painting on the walls, every variance in the lighting, every patch and repair on the various consoles marking upgrades and replacements. Everything on this ship was as familiar to him as his own body. This ship was like a part of him, he could see it when he closed his eyes and feel the rumble of the decks and shudder of the guns even when he was planetside.

As a child he had expected eventually to join the military as his father had before him, in Dilgar society service in the forces was taken for granted and it was often a disgrace not to have worn the uniform for at least a portion of a persons life. Like his sister he had expected to be a military scientist, and for a while that was all he had been. His success in hyperspace mapping and ship design got him noticed but he never really wanted to be a senior officer and leader of men and women.

But war had a way of changing things. He was not a natural born leader, it was something that had grown within him, nurtured by his sister and Gar'shan and tested in battle. He had become something he hadn't expected or particularly wanted. A Warmaster of the Council.

Political power appealed little to Sha'dur, but whether he liked it or not he had a responsibility to the Imperium. He had not wanted this, but he had been given it none the less and with his sister in critical condition and the Supreme Warmaster seemingly at death's door it fell to Sha'dur to save the Imperium from itself. And apparently from Earth too.

"Did we get an approximate number Captain?" he asked.

"Yes sir, a bout fourteen hundred human vessels and a hundred Markab ships."

"That's not so good." Sha'dur grimaced. "Only gives us a small numerical advantage, and considering how pointless that was last time we're going to have to handle this very carefully."

The Dilgar fleet had 1,700 ships to the allied fleets 1,500, but most of those Dilgar ships were of low quality or were still recovering from the last battle. It wasn't a force Sha'dur would chose to take into battle but orders were orders. He had a carefully planned fighting retreat laid out, he would engage the human ships from range, each wave of his fleet falling back before the were properly engaged and hopefully testing some of Earths strengths and weaknesses. The battle of Markab had proven conclusively how dangerous the humans were, today Sha'dur hoped to try and expose some weakness in the Earth ships to exploit at a later date.

"Remind the fleet of our general orders." Sha'dur addressed his aide. "All ships will maintain at least two thirds thrust once we go into action. I don't need them to be precise in their firing, just shoot as much as they can at range and trust something hits. We're not here to stop the humans, just see what it takes to slow them down."

"Confirming orders sir." Evenil returned.

"And my sister?"

"Already on the move."

Far behind the fleet a heavy cruiser was climbing away from the planet and preparing to jump. Sha'dur would have preferred to have sent a Dreadnought to carry this most precious cargo but he simply had none available, of the handful in his command most were damaged in one way or another. Besides, a cruiser was much faster and it could be speed was the best defence against a human raiding party.

The distant warship opened its vortex, Ari'shan and the best remaining Dilgar pilots following through the orange and amber portal to the relative safety of hyperspace and a course for Mitoc.

"She's away."

"Very well Captain." Sha'dur nodded. "Now we have just ourselves to worry about. Prepare Battlestations and launch fighters, this is going to take some careful timing."

Earth Alliance Combined fleet

EAS Hannibal.

"We're crossing the Bestine beacon." Commander Alina Patel read out from her station. "We're in optimal position to jump."

Admiral Hamato remained motionless, eyes fixed on the tactical display showing their best guess as to where they would re-enter normal space. Even with a beacon reading it was still not an exact science, but as long as the fleet came out within a few hundred miles of each other things should go to plan.

"Standby jump engines." He intoned. "We go together, five second count down."

The countdown enables all ships to synchronize their drives and prepare for the simultaneous jump, a little more precise then simply ordering 'now' across every frequency. As the count reached zero the Hannibal lurched forward as it was propelled through the fabric of space and time before being deposited in the Bestine system with its sisters.

Francis hated hyperspace transitions, that jolt came dangerously close to bringing up his lunch and in zero gravity on the bridge of the Earth Force flagship it was not an occurrence he needed to happen. Going through a jump gate was bad, but a jump point was even worse to his mind and seemed much more violent, shaking even this massive Dreadnought. Yet the rest of the crew seemed to not even notice, perhaps a case of familiarity breeding contempt.

He put it out of his mind, at least until the next time, and fired up his terminal plugged into the Earth Fleets communication net.

The sluggish ships had made surprisingly good time, with a little Markab advice they had travelled on the best possible jump route from Markab space to the Descari homeworld While Hamato had to leave behind his most damaged ships and had entrusted some of his more moderately damaged units to maintain a presence in Markab space to discourage raids he had still managed to drag along a significant portion of the Earth Force navy.

While the Earth fleet consisted of the same ships and crews and had been resupplied from the major Military base at neighbouring Altair just over the EA border, Hamato wasn't going to be able to repeat his massively destructive tactics from the Battle of Markab. His missile ships in particular were only running with half their load outs as the Navy had a hard time scraping up more Nuclear weapons, limiting them to more conventional armour piercing weapons and supporting devices like sensor probes, chaff missiles and jammers. This engagement would be fought almost exclusively by direct fire weapons, in which Hamato was still very well provided.

As before Hamato deployed his Cruisers forward with Dreadnoughts behind and Carriers further behind that with Corvettes and escorts deployed among and around his heavy ships. Artemis wolf packs lingered on the flanks with Battlecruisers ready to move to the most critical parts of the battle while Starfuries launched and made ready.

This time however Earth was joined by a Markab force, while quite small it still offered a useful fast attack capability and was assigned to operate with the human Wolf packs under the leadership of Grand Master Valna.

It was a balanced, well equipped and well motivated force facing much better odds then it had at Markab, victory was all but guaranteed but the goal was to achieve it with the bare minimum of losses, and that would take some effort.

"Dilgar fleet sighted." Patel said simply. "They seem to be holding station, ranked up ahead."

Hamato made a slight rumbling noise in his throat. "Interesting, I would have expected them to have withdrawn from here."

"Perhaps they don't want us to have such a strategically important world without a fight?"

"I'm sure they don't, but Jha'dur's record shows she is intelligent enough to abandon battles she can't win. She knows now what we can do to her, she won't try a simple battle with us again. What do you conclude Commander?"

Patel thought for a moment. "Jha'dur isn't commanding."

"Precisely." Hamato nodded. "Maybe we really did get her at Markab, Mr O'Leary, any word on Jha'dur and her condition?"

The agent shook his head. "Nothing on official channels, they've switched encryptions and it's going to take the team at home a while to crack them."

"Do they know we've broken their codes?"

"I don't think so. Not yet anyway." Francis said. "I can still read most of their messages, including battlefield communications. If they knew they'd switch everything."

"They will work it out eventually." Hamato concluded. "So let us use our advantage while we can. Once again Mr O'Leary, inform me of all command level orders, and try to find out who is in charge of those ships."

As the allied ships took up their positions facing the Dilgar Francis performed a quick sweep of all enemy frequencies, locating the appropriate command level encrypted channel and setting his machine to work on it. Within seconds the encryption was broken using the known patterns stored in the computer.

"It's Warmaster Sha'dur sir, Dreadnought Conqueror."

"Well that might prove interesting." Hamato considered. "Time to begin ladies and gentlemen, all ships to action stations. Begin a steady advance and fire as soon as we come into range. We'll push them pack or roll over them."

In their practised routine the Earth Force ships began to advance forwards, moving gradually quicker and quicker through space as huge banks of engines laboured to push the heavy metal hulls toward the Dilgar. Each of the monolithic human ships in the fleet had already seen combat during the previous engagement, some bore scars but most were still in reasonable condition with just a darkening of the paint and some scorch marks at the gun barrels caused by long duration firing. The Dilgar did not make any moves, simply waiting until the human ships crossed into range.

"Ghost Riders, listen up." April Green announced. "We've had a little fun with the Dilgar before, so you know what to expect. Stay loose, don't bunch up and don't take unnecessary risks because they will jump on you the second you screw up."

The EAS Nemesis, home ship of the squadron was currently on its way to Altair for a major overhaul. It was an enduring reminder that the battle of Markab could have been a lot worse for Earth had the enemy not been outwitted as well as out fought. The grizzled and shredded vessel had been taken under tow hardly recognisable as a ship of the line, but while her outer hull was a maze of twisted metal her inner decks were largely intact. She was going to need a few months in overhaul at least, fortunately the modular construction allowed a quick replacement of parts, and Earth had Dreadnought guns and armour stocked up for just such an eventuality.

Both the fighter squadrons usually embarked had as a result been transferred to other ships, in the case of the Ghost Riders it was the EAS Freyberg, a sister Dreadnought to the Nemesis while the Banshees had been deployed to a carrier. Unfortunately neither unit had time to replenish their losses, so while their fighters were well armed and repaired the Ghosts were going into action three men down, most notable by his absence was Commander Sinclair.

His escapades at Markab had put him in hospital with internal injuries caused by excessive G-forces. He would recover quick but not in time for this battle so it had fallen to Lieutenant Green to take them into action. Fortunately she had proven more than up to the task and had the squadron well prepared for action.

This battle however was going to be a little different, before the Earth ships had been on the defensive letting the Dilgar come to them, this time they were on the attack. In light of this more aggressive stance and owing to the fact that the Dilgar fighter corps had been decimated at Markab Hamato had detailed many of his Tiger Furies for the anti ship role. The older craft had exchanged their fighter missiles for a quartet of anti shipping torpedoes, slow, ungainly but packing a very potent warhead.

While there were few Thorun fighters left to trouble the Tigers those handful could still be deadly to the heavily weighed down strike missions, so it had fallen to the Nova Furies to fly escort. Hamato was confident enough his Corvettes and Cruisers could handle any Dilgar attacks on the main human force with their interceptors, releasing the whole Earth Force fighter element to go and take the war to the main Dilgar line.

"We accelerate after the first exchange." Green ordered. "Standby, everyone knows what's expected of them. Hague, stay on my wing, good luck and kill them all."

The cross winged fighters took their stations and coasted along between the big ships, at first the scene had been breathtaking to see with so much armour and fire in one place, waves of grey hulled grim looking vessels united in battle had been epic to behold. But after seeing it once the pilots of Ghost squadron were more or less over it. However when the fleet powered its gun batteries and made ready even the jaded Ghost Riders had to admit to some feeling of anticipation, a type of awe and wonderment at an event that was still rather rare in the galaxy.

With carefully timed and deliberate motions the Cruisers and Dreadnought commenced long range fire, measured bursts designed to prolong the life of the guns and test for range and accuracy. The real heavy firing would wait until they had closed in and could make sure every precious round counted.

From his cockpit Hague couldn't see the effect on the Dilgar beside a few small flashes, insignificant dots to him but no doubt huge conflagrations thousands of feet wide at their source.

"All fighters, lets get going." April called. "Lets see if we can make the Commander envy this battle."

The first of the Dilgar ships began to crumble, caught by laser spikes or rail guns. A destroyer fell in on itself as internal supports melted away under a lingering laser hit. The outer hull collapsing inwards like a deflating balloon until fire and plasma ate away its skin of green armour and burned it up from the inside out.

Sha'dur had his forces set up in three waves each a few hundred miles apart consisting of about five hundred ships each. The third line was his own unit, the survivors of the Second Strike Fleet, and he was nestled among them ready to face the same dangers they faced. Of course he hoped it wouldn't come to that, but it all depended on how well executed the low quality Guard ships he had been given could pull off this staged retreat.

"Captain Evenil, signal Battlemaster Hoy'san, begin withdrawal." He ordered. "Then tell Battlemaster Gri'sath to commence long range suppression fire."

With the orders away the first line of ships began to turn away, swiftly coming about a full hundred and eighty degrees firing from their stern weapons as Earth Force closed. Further back the Second wave of ships now began shooting at the humans, and while still at extreme range the volleys would force the warships to devote some interceptors to handling the incoming fire. A few more Dilgar ships fell as they quickly began to retire, passing over the second wave and allowing them to form a new frontline. The plan called for the initial group of ships to pass beyond Sha'dur's rearmost force and then come about to provide cover fire for the next stage of withdrawal.

It was essentially just a translation of an army tactic, at any one time one fleet would be withdrawing, one fleet maintaining suppressive fire, and a third taking up position to support the next withdrawal. A simple, effective and if all went well cheap way to slow down Earth Force, get his fleet out, and keep his honour intact for the day he made his move to oust Len'char.

However there was a potential flaw. While his ships could neatly stay ahead of the humans using their better engines to keep up a reasonable head start he was still having to trust untried and by all accounts poorly drilled and led ships to execute a plan where timing was essential. It was a big risk, if one fleet missed its cue and lingered too long Earth Force would rip it apart in a matter of a few minutes and force an early retreat from the system before Sha'dur could really get a look at human tactics.

"Reading fighters on the way." Evenil reported. "Lots of them."

"Detach all Thorun nits to intercept, have them do what they can but not to expose themselves unnecessarily." He ordered in return. "I want to do only what war needs me to do, no risks or unjustified losses."

"Aye sir."

"Keep the jump engines charged." Sha'dur announced. "If something goes wrong I want the fleet out of here in minutes."

"It's going to put a drain on our reactors sir, reduce weapons strength."

"I know, but we aren't here to destroy human ships, just to try and see how they fight in a prolonged battle."

"With respect Warmaster, I wouldn't stay here long and push our luck."

Sha'dur grinned a little. "That's what jump engines are for."

"Well then sir, lets pray we get a chance to use them, because I suspect a broadside from an EA Dreadnought will end our escape rather quickly."

"They have to catch us first, prepare to withdraw the second wave and ready suppressive fire across this fleet."

"First group is moving into covering position behind us, second group answering ready." Evenil rattled off. "All ready."

"Get them clear, all ships fire when the gunsights clear and watch for incoming fire."

Following the path of their predecessors the next group began to fall back, again shedding a few ships to lucky shots but generally few in number. As they moved clear the Second Strike fleet opened up proving their merit by striking one of the foremost EA ships in their first volley The front third of the human ship exploded outwards as the bow missile launchers and their ordnance were ignited by a laser cannon, damages and with weapons offline the ravaged vessel dropped out of formation and retired trailing fire and molten hull segments in her wake.

But while the large human warships were not able to chase down the Dilgar the multitudes of Starfuries were not similarly constrained. Racing ahead in a cloud of grey and blue the fighters made for the Dilgar fleet to do what they could to slow the withdrawal and let their bigger cousins catch up.

"Tally ho, bandits on scope." April called. "Ghost Riders, clear off and engage, fire as you wish."

With an intense glow from the engines the Furies powered up and turned sharply, swift and clean movements lining them up to meet the first group of incoming Thoruns. Just by looking at them Hague and his inexperienced eye could separate the Veterans from the Rookies. Some of the Dart fighters were no doubt part of the Second Strike fleet or attached survivors from Jha'dur's command and they proceeded without hesitation in neat trios seeking to isolate and overwhelm the superior human Starfuries. But among them and in much greater numbers were the pilots from the Guard fleet coming in at a much slower speed focusing on keeping in rigid formation rather than giving the humans their full attention.

Hague and the Ghosts would keep themselves busy handling the more difficult veterans while the older Furies dealt with the Dilgar rookies. Part of him almost felt sorry for the enemy, they were making themselves such easy targets even for the average Earth Force pilots he doubted any of them were going to get out alive. A dreadful waste of men and materiel, yet that was war and better the waste was on their side and not his.

He side slipped behind April as the first shots flew past only slightly wide of their mark, in return April was engaging with her own pulse cannons, taking down the attacking Thorun and perform a triple loop to throw off the aim of a second. The heavy fighter performed a blurring figure of eight twist as the two squadrons of human and Dilgar craft intersected and flew through each others formation, the Dilgar coming off far worse for the encounter.

Hague himself also had to react quick, rising over his leader to take a shot at a flanking Thorun. His shots took the front clean off sending the green fighter reeling out of control and rapidly finding itself consumed in flames.

"Stay on them!" April ordered briskly. "Second unit three low, move and engage immediately!"

Hague did as he was told and like a flock of birds the squadron altered course and continued into the battle.

EAS Hannibal.

Admiral Hamato had said very little since the battle started. At first this had concerned Francis but the more he considered it the more it made sense. Hamato only had to change orders if some unforseen circumstance erupted around his fleet. As long as the battle plan was sound and adhered to by his forces he could basically just sit back and watch.

Beside him Jenny Sakai was also paying attention to the Admiral, reading his incredibly well masked body language and glimpses of his facial expressions.

"Looks pretty calm doesn't he?" Francis whispered.

"Oh he looks it alraight." Jenny agreed. "But he isn't, he's got a lot of tension built up."

"Really?"

"Part of my training, I have to be able to read people like a book." The EIA agent shrugged her deceptively slender shoulders. "If I had to guess I'd say he's pissed at the Dilgar not giving him a decent target to hit."

"I get it." Francis nodded. "He wanted another decisive battle, smash the last fleet between here and the League Heartlands."

"But the Dilgar seem to have figured out not to take us on." Jenny smiled coldly. "Well, we did send them a quarter million body memo to that effect."

"Hang on." His computer brought a new set of Dilgar orders to his attention. He quickly translated and read them out. "Second Strike fleet is withdrawing, the first group is about to take up suppressive fire."

Hamato nodded, remaining silent.

"How can we catch them?" Francis returned to his conversation with Jenny.

"Well we're trying to slow them with fighter strikes, but if they don't want to be caught there isn't much we can really do."

"Quite correct." Hamato suddenly piped up. Jenny and Francis had been speaking in low voices, but apparently the Admiral's sense of hearing was remarkably acute for a man of his years. "But they haven't jumped yet. I suspect they want to test us. Instead they just made a critical error."

Francis didn't see what the error was, and from Jenny's face she didn't seem to have spotted it either.

"They should have run when they had the chance." Hamato grunted. "Commander Patel, code word Blizzard, lets get this over with and prepare to land troops on Bestine."

His first officer dutifully keyed in the codeword and sent it through the highly encrypted communication link to its intended recipients. Hamato returned to his almost statue like stillness and simply watched and waited for things to happen. The foremost Dilgar ships were firing with some alacrity at the Earth fleet but with little success, the bolt and laser fire displaying the inaccurate calculations of the gun crews.

The whole picture changed in a few instants, across the board on the flank of the Dilgar formations jump points began opening, scores of them, all directed the same way. Towards Bestine.

Francis watced with wide eyes, he hadn't been told about this element of the plan, and in hindsight that made perfect sense. He might have insight into the Dilgar battle plans but there was no reason he should have that same insight into Hamato'' strategy. He was part of the process but not strictly speaking in the chain of command.

"All units will continue the advance." Hamato continued. "Maintain fire but watch your targets. We now have additional allies on the field."

Francis smiled to see whom Hamato referred to.

"Vree." Sha'dur said with no feeling. "Scavengers and vultures who only join when the real work of war is done."

As the Second strike fleet withdrew to take up place at the rear of the formation and form the bedrock for the next series of withdrawals when his sensors had screeched the warning of more ships. It was within the realm of possibility that they were Dilgar reinforcements, that some one had seen sense and sent the Mitoc force to aid in this battle and turn back the Humans. But just instinctively he knew it was not to be.

The yawning blue vortexes disgorged hundreds of saucers, the Vree had clearly made their choice and decided now was the opportune moment to lend their weight to the battle. Sha'dur was hardly surprised, but he was bitterly angry.

"Vree ships closing hard on the second line." Evenil quickly tried to grasp on the situation. "Battlemasters are requesting immediate orders."

It was obvious to Sha'dur that this was planned by the Humans, they must have expected something like this and kept their new Vree pets in reserve until needed. By hitting the middle line from the flanks they had essentially cut off the line of retreat for the front rank. To get clear they had to go through the Vree or face Earth Force alone. The Vree for their part had deadly ships, antimatter cannons already primed and locking on while to make matters worse human missile armed fighters were about to hit across a broad front.

"Their timing is truly impeccable."

The Vree engaged, the foremost ships easily running down the nearest Dilgar vessels and burying them in a blaze of green antimatter. The targeted ships didn't have a chance, their own hulls feeding the destructive energies eating them away in tumultuous fire and light.

At the same time the Earth Force lines were getting closer, their fire growing more accurate and deadly as the distance shortened and more Dilgar vessels burned and died.

"Warmaster?"

It was pretty obvious what Sha'dur should do, open the jump points and just go. Unfortunately the other two thirds of his fleet were now falling apart as the enemy began to rip them to pieces. Not one among them had the sense to redeploy to meet the new attack or to simply turn tail and get clear enough to open a jump point. He could see they were already diverting power to weapons, either out of fear or a lust for glory they wanted to fight.

"Second Strike fleet. All ahead full."

He knew he was going to regret this.

"We will not abandon a thousand ships to their deaths, inform all Battlemasters to break contact and flee to hyperspace. We will buy them some time, then retire ourselves. Pray we can do it before the humans close the range."

The fire burst upwards several hundred feet like a wall of white and yellow, very eye catching from the canopy of a small fighter dodging between titans. Hague had gone through intense training and knew how to handle himself among enemy ships, constantly moving in all three dimensions to reduce the chances of a gun turret catching him with a cheap shot. So far a few had come close but he had barely noticed, he was too busy hunting down Thoruns with April. This time he had been less intensely focused on the action with moments of pause between combat unlike the constant attacks at Markab allowing him to keep a tally of his score, an impressive seven Dart Fighters though only two were piloted by half decent Dilgar. April had scored even more, no doubt aiming to match Sinclair's record.

The arrival of the Vree had thrown the whole Dilgar line into confusion, the three distinct groups began to merge together in chaos as ships turned to fight or flee as their individual commanders saw fit with a shocking lack of discipline that Hague hadn't expected from Dilgar. Vree ships skimmed within the formation nimbly dodging in and out of the Dilgar lines and showering everything in antimatter. They were seemingly reckless, shooting wherever they wished and causing headaches for the human pilots who were forced to give the saucers plenty of distance or risk becoming collateral damage.

Hague had a clear view as four Tiger furies crested over a burning destroyer, their hulls glittering red in the nearby inferno as if birthed from the flames themselves. At full thrust they cleared the wreckage and locked onto a nearby Tratharti class heavy gunships, second only to Dreadnoughts in the Dilgar navy. The warship saw them and replied with its pulsar turrets, the large energy guns catching an unlucky fighter in a blaze of released air and fuel. The remainder made a sharp loop, closed to nearly point blank range and launched every weapon they had.

Slow moving as they were at that range the Dilgar ship had no chance to react, each of the twelve nuclear tipped missiles found their mark across the length of the ship using a preliminary charge to melt through the hull and allow the body of the missile to pass through and detonate within the armoured heart of the ship. From bow to stern the hull peeled away in blue shocks of light, the relatively tiny warheads simply causing the once mighty ship to exit reality with no trace of its passing save a bright glow and a harsh burst of radiation.

Hague stayed close to April as ordered, following her as the skilled pilot ducked in and around wrecked ships to chase down the few remaining enemy craft. Nearby a Vree ship was blown in two by a pinpoint laser shot, a clear sign that better trained vessels were now entering the fray and taking their toll.

Another Dilgar ship exploded in an orb of blue energy, and three more were stripped by antimatter as the retreat failed and turned into a close range gunnery battle, exactly the sort of engagement Sha'dur wished to avoid and which Earth wished to force. The plan was in tatters, and now the Dilgar simply had to try and extricate as much materiel as they could from the furnace.

It had not escaped Hamato's notice.

"The Dilgar have ordered a general retreat." Francis informed. "I'm seeing some ships already fleeing to hyperspace, but most seem to be tied up fighting."

"The Vree are still in a difficult position." Commander Patel mentioned. "Sha'dur has rallied his fleet, he can do a lot of damage before he falls back."

"He can." The Admiral recognised. "Release the Wolf packs. My compliments to Grand Master Valna, the Markab fleet will detach and engage at once."

The Cruisers and Dreadnoughts were making slow but stead progress accumulating more Dilgar kills as they progressed, but they were still not going to arrive in time. However the Artemis Frigates had a better chance if they were no longer tied down escorting the heavy warships. With their orders confirmed they increased speed, dropping tremendously heavy rail gun rounds into their cannons and holding fire for the perfect shot. A well placed round could cripple a major warship almost at once, and a single salvo from all the guns would often be enough to kill a Dilgar destroyer outright.

With them went the Markab, weakened in numbers but not spirit. The surviving vessels followed their master, head of the Holy Warriors of Markab and most celebrated warrior of his race. Valna was cunning, subtle and appreciated the benefits of waging war in the human style. But this set of orders basically released him to fight like a Markab, fast and fearless racing into the teeth of the enemy fleet. What was suicide once was now a well timed tactic, with the enemy in chaos they were ripe for the picking.

"Close up on the Third Pentacan!" Sha'dur demanded. "Vree ships closing in sector one, I want them gone, now!"

The Second Strike fleet stood alone in the panic, a bastion of well directed fire and unflinching ships surrounded by fleeing allies and burning enemies. Several of his elite were on fire or already burned out in the vacuum, victims of human fighter strikes or Vree strafing runs. He had carefully positioned his ships for defensive fire, setting up a vicious defensive crossfire even the agile Starfuries dare not risk. Instead they focused on the meandering Guard fleet, leaving the now stationary Strike Fleet for the approaching Expeditionary Force.

A trio of Vree cruisers raced over a Dilger carrier, pummelling it on all sides with anti matter without even slowing. They passed on leaving a glowing mass of destruction in their wake but failed to adequately plan an escape vector, running straight in front of Sha'dur's command Pentacan and its concentration of Dreadnoughts.

"Destroy them!" He yelled. "Clear a path for the withdrawal!"

All three Vree ships were caught in the storm of bolter and laser fire, ripping through the symmetrical ships and scattering pieces of them for thousands of miles around.

He smiled a little in victory. "Human ships?"

"Still closing, estimate three minutes." Evenile responded. "Some of their attack ships are already in range."

"Ignore them, stay on the Vree." The Warmaster commanded. "Whatever happens we jump before they get close enough to hurt us, and whatever we leave behind, gods help them because we can't."

More Vree cruisers chanced an attack on the Strike fleet, and while they managed to inflict some damage every ship that tried to engage was shot out of the sky by the well placed defensive fire. Like the human pilots they eventually realised that it was best to wait for help before trying to crack such a tough target, altering their attacks toward the beleaguered green crews who were trying to escape.

All except the Markab.

The bronze ships ignored the Guard fleets, bypassed the Vree and made directly for the Second Strike fleet. They were not satisfied to kill stragglers, they wanted to face the real warriors of the Imperium, to bring down the best the Dilgar had, the ships which had dared cross into Markab space and threaten their homes and families. This was not a battle for them, it was Holy War and the cause of martyrdom.

Even after the heavy losses they had taken Sha'dur's fleet was still one of the best trained combat forces in the galaxy and had the Markab outgunned five to one. It was a hopeless match but they attacked all the same, catching the Dilgar so completely by surprise that they lost no ships on the approach.

Even Sha'dur had to give them some credit for that. "I can't work out if they are insanely brave or just insane."

"We'll tear them apart in minutes." Evenil snorted. "they're fools."

"We don't have minutes, we have seconds." He observed. "Earh is almost upon us, it is time to go. If we tarry and fight the Markab we'll be hammered by a line of Dreadnoughts, they'll kill us in an instant."

The fearless warships brought down a pair of elite Dilgar cruisers, paying seven ships for the privilege but they did not care. The Markab were in a fury unknown in their history, Valna and his core ships still had control and still fought with some restraint but most of his vessels simply threw themselves with reckless abandon into the Strike Fleet. Rushing up to help them the human Wolf Packs provided fire support, trying to clear the flanks with rapid bursts of rail gun fire and fighter strikes, but the Markab were so far ahead it wasn't helping them much.

Finally at the front of the mess the cruisers made it into optimum firing range, charging the plasma cannons for a fleet wide alpha strike.

"All fighters, all fighters, break at once." Commander Patel announced on all frequencies. "Disengage and clear the way."

"You herd the woman, lets get gone Ghosts!" April rattled off, throwing her own craft into a final evasive turn and burning away with Hague close on her six as always.

The Dilgar commanders in the Guardfleets had a moment of uncertainty as they saw the fighters scatter, followed soon after by the Vree warships. Some simply questioned this odd tactic, others dared hope they had won the day and the enemy was in flight. It was however not to be. The warships rose out of the midst of the Dilgar like a curtain raising, and behind that curtain the Earth force main battle fleet was revealed with guns locked and primed. It was over.

Sha'dur knew it, at the rear of the Dilgar formation the Second Strike fleet was in no immediate danger from the humans, they had to blast through the Guard fleet before they could bring their guns to bear on his forces. It gave him enough time to escape to Mitoc. He bitterly cursed the failure, despite his best efforts he was still leaving Eight hundred ships behind. He had wanted to save them all, he had delayed even against sense to cover just one more ship, save one more vessel. He had done all duty required and all honour demanded. What he had to do now was keep the Second Strike fleet battle capable.

"Captain Evenil, open jump point."

"Aye sir."

"Full retreat, all ships."

The Second Strike fleet finally turned its back on their colleagues and kin, in the same second they punched through to hyperspace the Earth fleet opened fire, a wave of tremendous firepower that scoured the skies clear of Dilgar ships. Heavy energy bolts and massed laser strikes turned the remaining Guard ships to ruin hundreds at a time, volley after volley, matching all the volleys and salvos the Dilgar had launched since the battle started were revisited on them in full. It was a massacre, like before a lesson on why engaging Earth Force head on was a swift ticket to the afterlife.

But not for Sha'dur, he cast one final look at the aft video image, seeing the mass of green hulls consumed in a massive wave of fire as Earth Force unloaded into the mess of ships and fighters before closing his eyes sadly and turning back to face forward. It was all Len'char's fault and by the gods he would pay.

He opened his eyes, framed in anger expecting to see a video image of the open jump point. Instead he saw a Markab cruiser a matter of miles away at full burn between him and the jump point.

He didn't have to say anything, the gun crews were already on it, slicing deep into the Markab ship with lasers and blowing chunks from its hull with bolter fire. The front of the Markab vessel was transformed into a scene from hell, blackened struts and supports reaching like clawed hands from a lake of fire. It was spinning, burning, wrecked but the crew did not care. They had no intention of surviving. The glory of their last act was enough to justify their lives and their deaths.

In a moment of pure perfect clarity Sha'dur accepted he was going to die. It didn't matter if his guns fired faster, or if he tried to dodge, nothing was going to stop this vessel in time. It was too close, too fast, too big. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do. The Markab ship lanced through space like a fireball, a comet which he recalled from an obscure part of his memory was an accepted symbol of death among many League worlds.

He had time to stand, deciding he would take his fate with both feet on the ground staring straight at it, not reclining in a chair. He gripped the hilt of the sword by his side, rested his other hand on the grip of his ornate pistol hand made for him on commission of the Supreme Warmaster. As he thought earlier, this was not a live he would have chosen nor the death he expected, still here he was and nothing was going to change that.

Evenil did not move either, she too stood, eyes fixed on the Markab ship heralding their fate.

"Strike Fleet away." She said flatly.

"Thank you Captain." Sha'dur replied formally, safe at least in the knowledge his ships would have a chance to fight on. "Your service has been unrivalled, you did us all proud."

"The honour was mine, Warmaster."

The final distance closed fast, the ship passing beneath the depression of the guns and between the forward mandibles.

Sha'dur did not flinch, bracing himself for what was to come and expecting it to be over fast. He was not to be disappointed.

"Goodbye Sister." He said simply, then closed his eyes.

The Dreadnought crumpled like a tin can, the wrecked Markab vessel pounding its way through brute force into the ship and wedging itself amid a river of flame and debris erupting in all directions. For a few seconds the two ships remained locked together in a macabre sculpture until finally the Conquerors jump engines overloaded, the vortex they had been holding collapsed down and the feedback utterly obliterated both vessels in a storm of light.

The tremendous explosion silenced the battle around, drawing the attention of the allied gunners as the enemy flagship dissolved in spectacular style. When the destruction faded there was nothing left of the Dilgar except wreckage and escape vectors.

"It's over." Francis said, his throat dry from the spectacle. "Enemy ships have either escaped or been destroyed."

"Mr O'Leary, can you confirm the identity of the vessel just destroyed?" Hamato asked.

"It was the Conqueror sir, Warmaster Sha'dur."

"Fleet flagship." Hamato mused. "We've faced two Warmasters in battle, and it seems neither of them will be telling the tale."

"We can't be sure of Jha'dur's status yet sir, she might be alive."

"Perhaps." Hamato allowed. "We will have to make certain next time. If there is a next time."

A few Thoruns remained, they glittered as they were mopped up by human and League fighters, the final embers of the dying fire.

"Recall all fighters once the sector is secure." Hamato ordered. "Then ask Admiral Ferguson to join us with the landing forces, proceed to Bestine and begin the liberation."

Commander Patel did as instructed.

"I don't know what will come next." Hamato said. "We've beaten the best they have, best ships, best crews, best leaders. But the Dilgar are true warriors, all they'll do is get better and keep coming for us. This is our challenge, our test. If we want to stand with the great powers of this galaxy we have to prove it."

His eyes lingered on an image of the scattered wrecks of the battlefield.

"This won't be other until we're over Omelos. No matter what the senate says there will be no negotiation, no peace, the Warmasters won't allow it. A long road Ladies and Gentlemen, long road."


	67. Chapter 67

66

Geneva

Earth

"I think you misunderstand me Mr Secretary, I'm not saying Jankowski should be kicked out of the service, I'm saying he should be kicked out of his ship. Preferably in such a way that he falls into the sun to be positive his brand of idiocy is completely removed from the universe!"

General Denisov should have been riding high on the success of his fleets and armies, almost every media outlet was full of nothing but praise for the soldiers and crew in the field and for a change the administration that had deployed them. President Hauser was a fairly well liked politician but he was not above criticism and many of his social policies had been judged well meaning but poorly executed failures. There was even suggestion that the war was just a way of directing attention away from his failings at home by more cynical reporters.

That however had changed over night when the Markab colony at Tiree was liberated and human reporters were given access to the planet and recovered documents seized from the Dilgar. The scenes they had found were often too harrowing for general viewing, the after effects of the Dilgar occupation and the atrocities committed there had quite simply shocked a planet. The League had hinted at this with their Ambassadors and shown similar footage smuggled out, but even that had only been the tip of the iceberg.

The effect on Earth even at this early stage was profound, support for the war was virtually total across the entire Alliance, on Earth, Mars, every one of the colonies and outposts. The voices of objection were utterly overwhelmed by the demand to put right the clear evil Earth was now embroiled against. It was that rarest of events, a wholly justifiable war that the population could support, one with the practical goal of forcing a dangerously hostile power away from Earth's borders with the added benefit of fighting the closest thing the galaxy had to pure evil.

In addition to public support across the board and favourable media reports, industry had also swung behind the Hauser administration and its decision to fight. Naturally the arms manufacturers were overjoyed, for the last year their profits had been soaring as Earth Force established a war footing and began massive orders of Starfuries, warships and armoured vehicles. Less obvious was the knock on effect this had across the whole economy, warships needed metal in huge quantities boosting mining expeditions, refineries and bulk delivery ships. The increase in personnel required more clothing, more food, more utensils and paper and the tiny everyday implements that are mostly taken for granted.

Service industries also saw profits increase during these first few weeks of war as more people called home or went shopping to stock up on food and necessary supplies in case of disaster, the hoarding instinct coming into effect. But the biggest boon after the defence industry was going to be found in shipping and cargo supplying, and in particular the Belt Alliance was looking at more contracts than it had imagined possible.

Unlike most powers Earth Force used relatively few naval cargo ships possessing just a few hundred specialised designs like the Cotton class tenders. These vessels tended to be used for dedicated rearming and light repair duties and possessed special apparatus for loading rail gun rounds or missiles in the field. As such most of their space was used for flash proof ammunition storage and other high priority cargo.

Written into the Belt Alliance charter right at the beginning of the organisations birth was a clause, a single line which stated EarthGov had the right to requisition any Earth registered cargo vessel for use as part of a Merchant Navy or auxiliary warship in times of full scale conflict. That clause had never been put into effect, and right now President Hauser did not especially want to. Instead he offered the Belt Alliance simple contracts to take supplies from Alliance space to the staging worlds in League space, currently just Bestine and Tiree.

On the surface it seemed like the deal benefited the Belters immensely, they did not have to watch their ships requisitioned and flown away by the navy possibly never to be seen again, even though they would be compensated for their use it was a lesser sum then they could make running the ship themselves. Earth Force however had also pressed for this as General Denisov had no desire to waste trained Naval crew running Freighters when a large and skilled civilian core of pilots and captains existed.

There would be however a few requisitions, with warships at a premium Earth Force couldn't spare a carrier to act as a 'ferry' bringing replacement Starfuries to the front so would use modified freighters instead, and plans were in hand to use some vessels as Q-Ships, having the appearance of freighters but mounting heavy weapons hidden in their cargo pods as a surprise for enemy convoy raiders.

But mostly the Belt Alliance would be responsible for protecting the bulk of the Convoys with their own fighters and escorts, with Earth Force providing a number of its own Corvettes once the convoy left EA space to add some extra firepower for the dangerous leg of the journey.

The Belt Alliance was the single largest Freight company in the galaxy, and while the Centauri had more actual freighters they were split into thousands of small private companies without anywhere near the sort of hegemony the Belters could demonstrate. They could move huge amounts of materiel efficiently across large distances and knew the jump routes through the League like the back of their hands. It was one more resource Earth had that proved a major advantage in prosecuting the war and balancing the massive logistics demand imposed by human warship design.

But despite this strong and favourable position General Denisov was still furious as he stood in the Presidents office almost nose to nose with Secretary of State Harry Brogan, arguably the third most powerful person in the Earth Alliance. The red faced politician took the tirade with a grin, playing to the small audience of the President, General and Director of Intelligence Karl Durban.

"But General, Mike Jankowski is the saviour of Markab."

If Brogan had wanted to say something to make Denisov even more mad he had picked the perfect combination of words

"That little cess pool parasite is the saviour of exactly one thing, his own butt! He screwed with my battle plan and cost us the element of surprise to save his own neck!"

"But if he hadn't have done so the Dilgar would have beaten the Markab fleet and begun hitting the planet while we were still positioning."

"Akira wouldn't have let the Dilgar kill tens of millions of people!"

"Wouldn't he?" Brogan raised an eyebrow. "He never struck me as the compassionate kind."

"He would have acted when he was sure the enemy would be at their weakest, probably after they were engaging the defences and close to the planet."

"Really? And you can prove this? Provide battle plans?" Brogan wondered.

"There ar eno plans." Denisov spat angrily. "It would have been spur of the moment."

"So no proof your was actually going to intervene?"

The General was on the edge of exploding.

"You want to question the integrity of one of my officers, we can step outside and discuss it privately."

President Hauser coughed pointedly. "Enough gentlemen, this is EarthGov, not a school playground."

Denisov bit his tongue, but was clearly not in a good mood about the situation.

"Mr President, I am concerned Earth Force wants a scape goat for its failure to catch Jha'dur the first time around." Brogan stated. "And they have chosen…"

"…The man actually responsible!" Denisov snapped again.

"The man who saved Markab from massive destruction." Brogan answered firmly. "Mike Jankowski is a hero."

"Actually," Director Durban raised his voice for the first time, cool and collected as always. "Isn't this Commander Jankowski your son in law?"

Brogan nodded awkwardly. "He is married to one of my daughters, yes, but that is beside the point."

"Of course it is." Durban smiled sarcastically. "I don't know why I mentioned that tiny little detail for the President."

"He has proven himself in action." Brogan huffe din continuance. "He has earned a right to wear that uniform."

"Well that settles it." Durban raised his hands in mock surrender. "How did he get his command again? I forgot the details, wasn't it about the time the Senate was discussing the Hecate class funding?"

"I don't remember."

"Really? I am sure it was, as I recall you and several Senators close to you abstained from voting until the last day, almost as if you were withholding your votes to jeopardize the project and its budget."

"Well, clearly I doubted the need for a new cruiser." Brogan stuttered a little.

"Good thing your conscious won out." Durban glanced at the President, then back at Brogan. "The Hecate class has proven extremely useful in battle, you must be proud to have been a part of it. Just struck me as odd Jankowski received a ship commission the day before you voted and swung the bill."

"If you are suggesting something…" Brogan began.

"I'm not saying anything." Durban shrugged. "I'm just head of the Earth Intelligence Agency, what do I know?"

Brogans lip began to curl, but he wisely held his temper.

"There will be a court martial." Hauser said. "For the good of the Force and for the public to see that even in war and even in victor no person is above the law and due process. But it will be a fair trial. That will be all Mr Secretary, General. Thank you for this briefing."

With a couple of brief bows the three senior officials made their way to the door.

"Director Durban, a moment longer if you will." Hauser gestured at the chair before his desk, waiting until his door was closed before beginning.

"You have a question Mr President?"

"Can you prove Brogan black mailed Earth Force into giving Jankowski a command?" Hauser got to the point.

"No sir, not a thing." Durban answered. "But now Brogan thinks I do and that I'm saving that proof to black mail him in the future. He'll be a lot more careful what he does from now on, his self preservation instinct will take over."

Hauser sighed. "So we don't know for sure."

"His reaction confirmed it, I can't prove it, but I can tell. He's guilty as hell and the responsibility for putting Jankowski in that position stops with him."

"That's all well and good, but it won't help General Denisov's case."

"No it won't, and Brogan has a good argument." The Director admitted. "He can show Jankowski upped the attack timetable and prevented further loss to the Markab. If we had lost the battle Jankowski would be finished, but because we won… he'll probably be cleared with no charges."

"Politics is my life." Hauser stated sombrely. "But sometimes I hate all these deals. It would be nice to have an honest result one day."

"Well at least you can claim that from the war." Durban said in support. "Your choice there has been embraced by everyone, a rare event indeed. You should see the lines of people outside recruiting stations world wide."

"The world is outraged." Hauser agreed. "They want to do something about it, rescue the League from these monsters. I'm on their side."

"It's a good motive to go to war." Durban agreed. "At least in public, and it complements our stance on national security and fulfilling our alliance with the Markab."

"I used to think there was never a good reason for war. Perhaps I was wrong."

"Maybe, or maybe not." Durban replied. "From the start I've always said we had to stand up to the Dilgar and it would probably end like this. You're decision will cost us thousands of lives, but in hindsight will probably save billions more, human and alien alike."

"My country knows the price of aggression Karl, by now I hope all of us do."

"All except the Dilgar." Durban sais simply. "This is a just war, and we're in it now right to the end. Don't second guess yourself or get hung up on the past Mr President. It was the right choice and now we see it through."

"Yes." Hauser nodded slowly, resolutely. "To the end."

Bestine

Transfer Point 'Eldorado'

Earth Force Jurisdiction

The planet had been in Dilgar hands for a relatively short time, a few months in human time, so from orbit it looked reasonably intact. The expansive green forests remained along with shining blue seas and the masking swirls of white cloud painted on the globe like an artists brush strokes. But a closer look revealed some of the signs of violence inflicted from above, brown craters of glassed dirt sat where cities once were. Burned tracts of forests and tiny plumes of smoke telling of a tremendous inferno below. The Dilgar had not had the time to implement a 'Scorched Earth' policy but they had certainly tried.

Nobody knew how many Descari had perished in the attack and occupation, with the halls of records atomised when the capital city vanished under a Mass Driver bombardment and any type of civil service or central government completely annihilated there was no method of comparing how many people had lived before the attack and now after. A body count would give some idea, but the majority of the dead would likely never be found. Estimates averaged around a billion, and that was a conservative estimate by Earth Force.

When the order came the Dilgar would have planned a few days advanced warning to evacuate their personnel, call in Mass Drivers then finish off the planetary infrastructure via orbital bombardment and then deploy a horrific selection of biological weapons. After a year of warfare the Dilgar bioweapons division had refined some of the most nightmarish weapons in existence, potent enough to kill all life right down to bacteria. They would leave just a barren and blighted rock populated by skeletons and shrivelled trees amid the ghostly buildings and ruined ecosystem.

Thankfully at Bestine they did not have a chance, but it hadn't stopped them doing as much damage as possible before the world was returned to its rightful owners.

Warmaster Len'char's orders to fight for the planet had not only doomed almost a thousand ships and one of the few competent leaders of the Imperium to their deaths, it had also doomed thirty thousand soldiers on the surface to a fight they couldn't win. Originally the garrison had stood at fifty thousand, but with his foresight Sha'dur had arranged for the two best divisions to be transferred to Mitoc just before Earth Force made its entrance stranding the remainder of the garrison on Bestine.

As the naval battle ended and Earth troops entered the system the Descari themselves rose up, informed via radio that the Dilgar fleet had been destroyed and the liberation was here. Some elements of the Descari army had survived and launched planet wide attacks on the two main Dilgar enclaves eventually overrunning one after taking staggeringly high losses.

The second enclave held on, wiping out tens of thousands of Descari who tried to storm the protected buildings and ran into a well laid out network of bunkers, trenches, minefields and kill zones. Most Descari had just bludgeoning weapons picked from the rubble combined with a white hot anger, a fearsome sight but of little use against embedded troops armed with automatic weapons.

They were forced to withdraw and wait for Earth Force, deploying three divisions and two strike fighter squadrons to commence the attack scheduled for a little later this same day. As the troops prepared below the scene in orbit was no less busy with orbital support taking position and satellites deployed to gather intelligence. As seemed policy the enclave had a large camp of Descari interned there to discourage massive retaliation by orbital or nuclear strikes and force a ground battle. Earth however had no intention of simply walking into the Dilgar guns, and a major preliminary bombardment followed up with heavy armour and cavalry would storm the defences.

Earth Force was confident of victory, but it was a given that the Dilgar would fight to the end and sell their lives as dearly as they could. While they were of lesser quality than the division on Tiree and did not have as skilled a commander as Kem'shan they did have a well prepared and planned defensive network and while it wasn't designed to cope with the sort of massive combined arms attacks Earth Force enjoyed using it was still a very serious obstacle and would no doubt cost many lives to overcome.

While the planet was still home to several thousand Dilgar in orbit Earth was moving fast to secure the system and establish a supply base as a matter of highest priority. Given Earths reliance on resupply, far more so than any League or Dilgar fleet, it had become the number one imperative of any offensive action to quickly establish a secured line of supply and communication. That required two basic facilities, a ready store in home territory close to the factories producing fuel and munitions, and one closer to the fleets to keep an easily accessible stockpile available for battle.

The first was no great problem, the Altair colony on the Earth/Markab border had long been prepared to host the main transfer point for human ships proceeding to the front. It had a trio of large stations and extensive warehouses on the ground along with plenty of heavy lift shuttles and the associated defences to hold such a vital location. The problem was going to be duplicating that sort of facility in League space.

Ideally a plan to attack Omelos would have simply had Earth rent out League Space ports, filling stations at Bestine and Markab and Brakir with weaponry and spare parts before commencing the attack and simply using the existing and well established League trading routes and facilities to keep the warmachine fed and watered. Unfortunately there were no available League spaceports, they were all either ruined or under siege leaving Earth with nowhere to store its weapons, and without forward stockpiles. In such a situation all the Dilgar had to do was keep their fleet in the field and force Earth to expend fuel and weapons chasing them until they ran dry and were forced to retreat.

The solution had proven elegantly simple. Rather than hoping to take an intact spaceport or spend potentially months rebuilding a wrecked one or setting up a full scale Orion class station as existed over most EA colonies Earth Force had devised a novel solution which basically involved taking a base with them.

The project went by the amiable title of 'Project Strawberry' as a slight nod to the Second World War Mulberry harbours which inspired the Earth Force solution. Earth naval architects had been given the job of making the iconic ring shaped Orions transportable through hyperspace to be deployed over newly liberated worlds. They ran into immediate problems when it turned out towing one would simply break it up under the stress. Then they worked out any engine powerful enough to push it through hyperspace would likewise cause it to fold in on itself. To make matters worse no jump gate was big enough to handle one requiring a jump engine of shocking proportions.

Earth Force was ready to begin work on a totally new solution, a massive cylindrical station that could move through hyperspace and become almost a mobile base for Earth Force. While this station was at the upper limits of feasibility and would cost more than a decent sized moon to construct it was seen as the only practical way to give the fleet the massive base it needed.

At the last moment however an alternative was found, one of the designers came up with a simplified Orion class station stripped down to the bare bones, then revealed it could be built in modular sections in civilian yards and towed to the required location through regular jump gates.

Project Strawberry was immediately green lighted with an initial order for five complete stations at a fraction of the cost of the projected Super station and about a third of the price per unit of an Orion. The grand mobile base design was shelved having only made it to the concept stage, a massive five mile long cylinder nestled within a larger three mile long contra-rotating barrel crowned by a fan of gigantic solar panels. They hadn't even thought of a name for it, but perhaps one day this dream would be given form and be constructed as a symbol of Earth's new commitment to the future.

With the Markab space ports still largely intact and able to handle the flow of munitions the first fruit of project Strawberry appeared at Bestine, the now officially named Dionysus class medium space station. While the name was picked to fit in with the common mythological naming conventions of the Alliance, most people who built and operated them still called them 'Strawberries' with a wry smile.

The Bestine base had been delivered, assembled and started spinning within six days. It was put together by the Earth Force core of Engineers and the original designers who were themselves taken by surprise at how smoothly the station went together. No sooner had it been put together than the first convoy arrived and began unloading their wares.

The station was far from perfect, while its big brother the Orion was a thickly built and heavily armoured fortress with enough plasma cannons and nuclear missiles to take on a Dilgar fleet, the Dionysus was much weaker built to civilian standards for speed and ease of construction armed with just point defence interceptors. It was also somewhat smaller and suffered from less internal space meaning only the most vital cargo was stored inside. Less expensive or sensitive loads were simply kept in the cargo pods the arrived in and were clumped together on a tether below the stations axis of rotation like a thousand mile long chain.

It couldn't defend a world, wouldn't survive even a single Dilgar heavy cruiser attack and even by human standards was bleak and poorly finished inside. But it was exactly what Earth needed delivered exactly when Earth needed it. That was all anyone asked and in that respect the Strawberries delivered.

"Turn your back for five minutes and someone builds a Starbase." Jors grunted without giving away if it was a joke or genuine complaint. "Wonder how much that cost us?"

"Us?" Paul raised an eyebrow. "Nothing, we haven't paid taxes n years."

Jors paused to consider that reality. "Good point."

"You know the Tax guys do get pretty petty about that." Toby reminded the other two crew members. "What if they check our bank accounts and find, you know, millions of credits in undeclared income?"

"Well we'd just have to declare it." Paul shrugged. "Tell them we made the money on a secret mission, then sit back as that nice Mr Chapel hunts them down and shoots them."

"I like this plan." Jors grinned widely.

"So in summary." Paul said to clarify. "The Tax guys will never find out because the EIA is very good at covering its tracks, and by default ours too."

"Friends in high places." Toby smirked.

"Doesn't suck." Paul agreed. "Well apart from the eight times we nearly died."

"I'd lost count." Jors remarked. "All the money made me forget what we did to earn it."

"Well time to earn a little more, this time without getting shot at." The Captain smiled. "Hopefully."

The small commercial freighter Space Race made its way to the station, newly built and already crammed with freight and personnel. A Cruiser squadron hung a few hundred miles away taking on fuel while an assortment of damaged ships were patched up for the journey back to Altair and the dedicated repair yards.

As before the Race was on official business, delivering a few passengers quickly and safely to the front lines before returning with their pockets more than adequately lined. The pay was of course far less than running an actual mission behind enemy lines but still a nice premium.

They came to a halt and received priority clearence to bring their passengers aboard, in this case simply by shuttle.

"Right guys, keep the ship running, I'll be back in an hour." Paul informed, lifting out of his seat.

"No shore leave boss?" Toby wondered.

"I'll be shocked if that place even has a café, let alone a bar." Paul nodded at the spinning base. "And the planet is still more than a little dangerous for my taste. We'll take a break when we get home, give ourselves a month off or something."

"Another good plan." Jors stated stoically. "Which makes a change."

"All my plans are good." Paul said in mock defence. "They just don't look that way from the outside. It's subtle."

"So subtle everyone else sees a disaster and blind luck?"

"Hence why I'm the Captain. Back in an hour. Don't steal anything."

He made his way to the hangar to find both his passengers ready and waiting. Pleased by their sense of timing they made the short hop over to the station and the final destination. Without great trouble he navigated into the docking bay and brought his passengers into the main habitable section, walking with them until he found his familiar contact.

As expected the inside was bleak but did at least keep a few windows on the outer walls to show a slowly rotating view of space. There were no civilians but to his surprise he did find a small bar on what would have been the main promenade on a civilian station. It was surrounded by off duty Earth Force troops and pilots clamouring for a drink while a few chairs and tables were set up by a set of particularly large windows.

Waiting at one table was the contact and a companion chatting and finishing a spot of dinner.

From her table Jenny saw them coming and rose to greet the party. "Paul, glad you made it so soon."

They embraced briefly and shared a wide smile. Glad to make it myself, looking at the news there's been some big battles out here."

"Really big." Jenny confirmed. "You know Francis?"

"I remember." He shook hands with the young codebreaker. "Have fun?"

"Well it was an experience." The young man shrugged in slight amusement. "Lets you see how much preparation goes into all this stuff."

"Personally I think preparation is a waste of time." Paul related. "Speed and firepower are all you need. Plus a lot of luck and some insane crew members."

"Speaking of, how are the boys?" Jenny chipped in.

"They say hi." Paul answered happily. "Anyway, I brought your boss, he's getting lunch, and one of his friends from the Army."

"Ahh, Vic Chapel." Jenny had noticed him earlier of course, nothing much happened without her noticing, but it wasn't much of a conversation point. "How was the trip?"

"Really good, those two have some awesome stories."

"I think we've got some pretty good ones ourselves." Jenny said quietly.

"Well it'd make a good movie." Paul agreed. "Not so fun without a stuntman and director to yell 'Cut' every five minutes so we can get coffee."

From the small food court Chapel and his friend returned with three plates, the extra one for Paul.

"Space for three more?" Chapel asked, already pulling out a chair.

"Make yourself at home." Jenny extended a hand. "I thought you didn't like travelling to the League?"

"I hate it." Chapel confirmed. "Hyperspace makes me dizzy. Not pretty. But I have a job to do straight from the Director."

While Chapel was talking Francis had noticed his companion, and to his surprise he found he knew him.

"Sergeant Major Jackson." The young Agent recalled. "We met on Earth, you recruited my friend into the Force."

Across the table the heavy form of Sergeant Jackson nodded with a grin. "good memory son, guess that saves on the introductions."

"What brings you out here?" Francis asked with new found confidence. Not so long ago the big soldier would have intimidated him into silence despite his open personality. A lot had changed since then.

Chapel stepped in with the answer.

"Jaws here is going to be your new escort and body guard."

"Jaws?" Jenny raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Chapel smiled widely. "Because once he's got his sights on you he never lets go. We gave him that name back in our Ranger days, he hunted down a Narn recon unit across, I'm not kidding, four hundred miles of alien desert."

"Good old days." Jackson reminisced. "Our old unit is going in on the next mission."

"About time they sent in the grown up troops." Chapel huffed. "Anyway, when all hell broke loose Jaws here volunteered for active duty again."

"With public outrage towards the war my job as recruiter suddenly became too easy." Jackson said. "They were coming to me, no more fun of the hunt!"

"Fun of the hunt huh?" Jenny chuckled. "You can take the man out of the Rangers…"

"But never the Ranger out of the man!" Chapel and Jackson finished in unison.

"So they took you back?" Francis asked. "That's great, we'll need all the best soldiers we have."

"Well not exactly." Jackson sighed a little. "Because of the injury I took I'm still not considered fit enough to rejoin an active Assault Ranger battalion."

"Which is horse crap." Chapel informed. "Jaws could snap any of those guys in two, hell drop him and Gunny Hurley on Omelos and it's game over this time next week!"

"Bad news is the brass doesn't agree, but they did consider me fit for this job." Jackson extended his hand. "I'm your new shadow Mr O'Leary, glad to meet you."

Francis returned the gesture and shook Jackson's hand, an experience not unlike having a truck roll over his fingers. The Sergeant was in his forties and had the merest hint of grey in his black hair, but based on the strength of his grip Jackson would be easily capable of breaking bones and inflicting a lot of damage in unarmed combat. With all that strength Francis was amazed he hadn't made it back into the front line, it said a lot about the sort of standards the Rangers demanded.

"Director Durban still wants you back on Earth." Chapel continued know the formal introduction had been made. "But for as long as you are out here he wanted to make sure you had the best protection. He asked me who I knew, and there was only one answer. Jaws will see you safe."

Jenny took a sip of coffee. "This mean I'm heading home?"

"You'll come back with me on the Race." Chapel confirmed. "I'm sure the Director has some more fun and games for both of us, maybe you too Paul."

"Oh good." The Captain said. "Life was getting too safe and boring."

Jenny hid a grin, typical Paul reaction.

"You'll be based here Francis." The senior Agent continued. "On this station, near the front but not anywhere you can get nuked. As you know the Dilgar have some pretty damn good infiltrators and assassins, but not one of them is as good as Jaws."

"I can believe that." Francis agreed as he stretched his fingers, slowly returning circulation to the digits.

"I heard Admiral Hamato wanted to adopt you." Chapel continued. "Get you in a blue uniform and put you on his staff."

Francis blinked. "What? Really?"

"Yeah, the Director wasn't having any of it."

"I don't get it, he never seemed that impressed, he barely said ten words to me the whole trip!"

"Well Hamato is a man of few words." Chapel answered.

"Try none." Jenny added with a smile. "He's famous in the Navy for it. Guess you must have made an impression after all."

The five assembled people took a few moments to eat and drink, savouring the cooked food and simulated gravity keeping their breakfast on their plates and drink in their cups. For most Earth Force personnel going on deployment meant surviving on whatever could be sucked through a straw, food or drink. A decent meal was worth its weight in Quantium.

Jenny looked at her watch. "The troops should be going in any second now."

"Which ones?" Paul wondered.

"On Bestine, hitting the last Dilgar stronghold."

"Anyone we know?"

"I don't think so, Freddy is still on Tiree, he won't be moving out until his unit has had some time to rest."

"Who are they sending?" Chapel asked.

"First Infantry Division and the Foreign Legion." Jenny replied. "Going to be a hard fight."

"The Big Red One can handle it." Jackson referred to the First Division and its well known icon. "And the Foreign Legion are tough little grunts, almost as good as Rangers."

"Almost." Chapel agreed. Of course in Chapels estimation everyone from the Foreign Legion to Airborne to the Knights Templar were 'almost' as good as Rangers, no one was ever quite their equal.

"You know I'm still hooked into the fleet wide battle net." Francis pulled up his portable computer from the floor beside him. "I can show punch up the satellite image of the attack."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Jenny laughed lightly.

He unfolded the screen and brought up the picture, overlaid upon the panoramic orbital image were tactical markers showing the relative positions of the human and Dilgar forces. The battle had indeed started with icons showing massed artillery bombardment and air strikes going in before the troops.

"It's amazing to think we're fighting for a whole planet." Paul remarked. He had no real knowledge of military strategy but could make out what each of the images Francis brought up was meant to be. "Liberating billions of people."

"Hard to really grasp the scale of this war." Chapel agreed. "We're throwing around numbers like millions and billions like nothing. Hundreds of billions of lives depend on what we do or fail to do. If you stop and think about what that means, it's overwhelming."

"Somebody has to do it." Paul said. "Someone has to take a stand before it's too late. We were the only ones with the nerve to do it."

"We've done great so far, better than we could have possibly hoped." Jenny contributed to the conversation. "Lets pray the Dilgar don't get with the programme and start hitting back."

They all continued to watch the screen, seeing the battle develop real time on the planet far below.

"So Francis," Jackson spoke. "Can you hack into the Sports Channel for free?"

A few tables away another man was eating a full English breakfast of Bacon, eggs and buttered toast. The sheer level of grease, fat and other assorted attributes on the plate were enough to make any vegan leave the room and dry heave, but as far as taste and satisfaction went there wasn't much that came close and damn the consequences.

David Sinclair had certainly earned this kingly breakfast, its aroma tickled his senses and awakened a craving in his appetite, the meal not merely sustenance but a reminder of his younger years and the exact same meal his mother cooked in the family tradition. The Sinclair family was native to Mars and had been for over a century as one of the earliest colonial settlers. There were few prouder of their home than the Sinclairs and the long troubles between Mars and Earth had been particularly hard on the family which still had the majority of its members on Earth. There was however no doubt as to where their loyalties lay, and David wore the blue and grey with pride despite the wide spread hatred on Mars towards Earth Force.

The Mars branch of the family had altered considerably from their origins in Britain, their accents were more international now mixing with the dozens of nationalities among the colonists but still maintaining a hint of their ancestry. The Sinclairs observed British holidays and traditions, they learned their homelands history and culture, they spelt words in the English manner and enjoyed English food, which was often regarded as an acquired taste.

Right now as far as Sinclair was concerned the greasy and slightly overcooked meal was a gift from the Gods. He had been raised on this type of food and it had never done him any harm, it wasn't just his culture it also happened to be damn tasty. He was pleasantly surprised to find the cook here on the station was from Australia meaning he knew exactly how to cook real food, and Sinclair planned to savour every last bite.

There was a final piece of heritage which was almost constantly on Sinclair's mind, that of flying. Ever since the first aircraft had wobbled into the sky a Sinclair had been sat in one trying to stay up there. An ancestor had diced with the Red Baron, another had fought in the Battle of Britain. Indeed the markings those early aircraft had worn, red and white triangles and chevrons, had become something of a coat of arms or crest carried through generations right down to David and his own Starfury. Being a fighter pilot was in his blood as much as his height and the tone of his voice, it was genetic, predestined, and already David could see his eldest son Jeffrey following on that path.

It was a difficult life, and the threat of death was ever present meaning it was with some trepidation that David had watched his son gather more and more interest in flying. Any father would feel the same but he also felt immense pride at his sons choices and could see Jeffrey was going to be an exceptional pilot. After all, it was in his blood.

To his irritation however Sinclair's magnificent feast was not to be savoured in silence. His keen senses picked up the chortle of voices before they rounded an intersecting corridor and strode onto the promenade in high spirits. His squadron had come to pay him a visit, and while he had rather looked forward to a little alone time he was also rather pleased to see his team mates and friends.

"Squadron, form on the leader." April Green ordered with a smile. "Take position and dock."

The collection of men and women broke up and grabbed chairs nearby, with April and Bill Hague taking their place at the Commanders table and place of honour. As Sinclairs XO April was expected to sit with the chief, and Hague had the right by virtue of being Sinclair's wing man. The Commander had taken Hague under his wing to try and show him some of the more subtle and creative ways of fighting a Starfury, just like he had done for all of the squadron when they had joined regardless of previous experience. A posting to the Ghost Riders was considered the pinnacle of a pilots active service, so great was the unit's reputation.

That reputation for excellence had preceded Sinclair's time in the squadron, the 13th had always recruited the best in the fleet including ironically enough two other Sinclairs since its formation as an Earth Force unit a century ago. As a young flier David had joined after chasing off a full squadron of Ch'Lonas fighters almost single handed in an ancient Fox class Fury. The Fox fury had barely survived but in the process Sinclair claimed six enemies and made himself an ace in one engagement, enough to get him into the Ghosts. Since he took over as Squadron leader four years ago he had worked hard to keep the quality of the unit up, training and flying almost everyday. Sinclair of course loved it, there was nothing like taking out a Starfury and living with nothing but a thin canopy between him and eternity. When the squadron rearmed with Nova Furies it had become even more fun to fly, but of course it all had a greater purpose. One demonstrated quite capably in the recent battles with the hard bitten Dilgar fighter pilots and their craft.

Sinclair greeted them all by name, sharing a few jokes as they settled.

"Gavin, why don't you go get everyone some breakfast?" Sinclair suggested, fishing out his credit chit. "Put it on my account, a gift to you guys for not becoming a mark on some Thorun's nose."

The pilot sprang up and headed for the counter, which was still pretty busy.

"And get proper food!" Sinclair called after him. "That means stuff you have to fry!"

"You know I'm still shocked you can even climb into a fighter with that diet." April jostled him. "I mean look at that, I can already feel my Cholestorol count rising just smelling it."

"This is real food." Sinclair cut off a slice of bacon, rolled up a bit of fried egg and lovingly picked up both on his fork. "Empires were built on a breakfast like this."

"I'll stick to something a bit more balanced." April returned. "I have to watch my figure."

Sinclair was a married man and only had eyes for his wife Gemma, but as a neutral observer he had to admit April Green possessed the finest figure he had ever seen anywhere. If she wasn't such an excellent pilot she should have been a swimwear model. In fact he had suggested she do both, it would have done wonders for recruitment. She had politely refused, much to the disappointment of mankind in general.

Almost every single man on the Nemesis had tried to ask her out, and each one had failed. Trying to get a date with April seemed to be some sort of requirement, every man in the squadron except Sinclair who was of course already spoken for, had tried their luck and he could see Hague was well on his way to building up some nerve. But the fact was April was engaged to another man, probably the luckiest male in the galaxy at this point, she just didn't talk about it. Sinclair knew because he was the only man who treated her just as a friend with nothing beyond that, it was something she could trust to stay friendly and professional so they had formed quite a close platonic bond. All joking aside Sinclair trusted April like no other, and vice versa.

"Watch you're figure?" Gavin grinned widely as he dropped off the first batch of plates. "I thought that was my job?"

"Yeah, well watching is all you'll do." April smiled back. "If you want to keep the use of your legs that is."

Sinclair chuckled, his XO could quite easily handle herself.

"So how was the action here?"

"You missed a blinder boss." Hague said enthusiastically. "We had them on the ropes from the start."

"Turkey shoot." April agreed. "These guys weren't as good as the last lot."

"April brought down Sixteen, sixteen in one battle!" Hague exclaimed. "I mean, damn!"

Sinclair had to hide his approval. "Well, not too bad."

"That makes twenty eight in three battles." She said simply. "I rock, and I am learning to live with this burden of responsibility."

"So we're going to need to install an extra cockpit for your ego now?" Sinclair wondered with a grin.

"It can ride with me up front." April answered in mock seriousness. "Even Bill got eleven kills so far."

The young pilot shrugged. "I didn't even know, happens so fast out there."

"You did well." Sinclair acknowledged. "You lived up to the squadrons reputation, good man Bill."

The young man went crimson at the praise, before his eyes widened. "Oh, I forgot, we brought you some mail."

Sinclair put down his fork and glared. "You forgot?"

"Err, sorry."

"Mail is our highest priority out here." April informed. "If you don't mention it straight away the first round when we get back is on you."

"And mine's a double vintage Scotch." Sinclair growled. "Neat, no scrimping."

He took the two letters, one was clearly from home and he put that to one side for a private moment, it was one of the things he always kept private. The other was a more official Earth Force message which he opened there and then.

"Well, this is good news." He read on. "Someone higher up noticed us, we've got a unit commendation."

There was a round of cheers from the group.

"And April just got promoted to Lieutenant Commander." Sinclair beamed. "Congratulations."

"What?" her dark eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really, with all the extra money and ego boosting that entails. Not before time too."

She got a few hearty slaps on the back from the unit and was clearly quite happy. "Wait, what about you? We can't be the same rank."

"No, they went and promoted me too." Sinclair shrugged. "Full Commander."

Once more the congratulations were passed around.

"Plus the seem to want to give us all medals, which is nice." He continued. "For our part in protecting the Nemesis on her little field trip."

"I'd appreciate a month off more." Gavin replied.

"Me too." April concurred. "But I guess not?"

"You guess right, we've got some time here but when the fleet goes, so do we." Sinclair confirmed. "Someone must have got the idea we were indispensable."

"That would be April wiping out whole airgroups single handed." Gavin said.

"I have a gift and I'm willing to share it."

"Not the only gift you could share…"

"My Lingerie is my business." April said in return. "Not something I plan to share with the whole galaxy on a Calendar."

"Sports illustrated pay really well." He tried one more time.

"Read my lips." April said, then mouthed a particularly appropriate curse.

"So when we're back to acting like hard bitten fighter pilots…" Sinclair raised his voice. "We need to make space for two new recruits, I've been talking to command about a transfer and we've already had twenty applications. April and I will find the best."

"Be hard to replace Ethan and Jean." April said with mild sadness. "Good pilots."

"Good men." Sinclair added. "Absent friends people, they did not die in vain, and they did not die quietly. Lets hope we all go the same way. Just not for a long time yet."

The group held a moment of silence, and far away more friends and sons and daughters and parents fell to the guns of war fighting for Bestine, praying that it truly was worth the sacrifice of even one life.

Mitoc

Site of the next Dilgar Homeworld

"What fortunate timing." Warmaster Len'char said with absolutely no hint of sincerity.

"Yes sir." Besie him Ari'shan stood still in his flight suit. "Another few minutes and she would have been trapped on the planet by Earth Force."

Len'char looked through the observation window into the intensive care room, his gaze loitering on the unconscious and weak form of Jha'dur. "Wouldn't that have been a pity."

"The doctors still don't know if she will make it. They have done all they can, it is up to her now."

Len'char glanced at the young pilot standing tall and straight beside him with clear concern for Jha'dur. He gave off an aura of honesty and openness, a genuine person where what you saw was very much what you got. A man of honour and dedication who had killed many aliens in service of Omelos but always in fair fights. He had never done what would be considered murder and surrounded himself with similar spirited people.

Len'char found it deeply amusing. He was sceptical this young man was even related to the Supreme Warmaster, a man of such devious cunning and legendary wit that he had held his place as master of the Imperium for three times longer than any previous Supreme Warmaster. Both his elder son Dal'shan and his protégé Jha'dur displayed similar abilities, and with nurture would likely match their illustrious mentor, but not Ari'shan. He actually cared about right and wrong, which on the one hand made him rather easy to manipulate but on the other could prove extremely dangerous. He was loyal to Jha'dur, and if Len'char wanter her dead he would first have to put Ari out of the picture.

"You did well to avoid ambush on the way." Len'char continued. "Jha'dur is certainly a Commander many wish to see dead."

"That is what I have heard." The pilot responded. "She has a great many enemies. Success breeds them like vermin."

"And I see you have protected her in the past." Len'char continued.

"I still do." Ari'shan said simply. "I have sworn to her brother I would keep her safe."

"Ah yes, Sha'dur. What a pity."

"His loss is a blow the Imperium will never recover from."

"Well I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"He was a great man."

"We will see what history decides." Len'char replied, fully intending to be the author of this war and its accounts.

"There is a human saying that history is written by the victors."

"And that will be us."

"So far we have lost every battle to Earth with massive casualties. I think you are overestimating our chances."

"And you are overestimating Earth." Len'char retorted. "They were lucky, they engaged crews and commanders used to winning, they were reckless."

Ari'shan was so shocked he actually looked away from Jha'dur for the first time in three hours. "You absolutebloody fool."

Len'char returned the stare. "Don't forget who you are talking to, pilot."

"I know exactly what you are, Warmaster." Ari snarled. "My Father and Jha'dur have said it often enough."

"Both of whom are now on the brink of death." Len'char continued. "I wonder what life for you would be like without them guiding and watching you? More dangerous I expect."

"A threat Warmaster?"

"Just a warning." Len'char turned back to the window. "You must feel loyal to Jha'dur, but her day has passed and a new order is establishing itself on Omelos. You might do well to pick some new friends. With your family connection you could find yourself in a favourable position."

"Bribery is wasted on me." Ari replied harshly. "And so are threats, I know my path and will not be swayed for any reason."

"Well I admire that." Len'char shrugged. "You are a hero, just a shame most heroes don't live long."

"My Father did."

"Gar'shan is no hero, he was just smarter than his enemies and didn't hesitate to slaughter them, in battle and on the Council."

"To the Dilgar public that is a hero." Ari stated. "And why Jha'dur is loved."

"Her name will be forgotten in a year, especially as she caused this disaster."

"Is that your story?"

"You'll find my story is the truth history will remember." Len'char dismissed. "Like these humans say, I'll be the victor."

Ari'shan smiled. "I hear you are now in command of this front."

"Yes I am, I will command the next battle with Earth Force." Len'char said confidently.

"Warmaster Dar'sen has requested a transfer here to take command of the fleet."

"Dar'sen will stay on the Drazi border."

"I believe his words were 'Don't give that clawless lap cat anything to do that doesn't involve cleaning street corners.' Or something like that."

"Dar'sen has strong opinions, pity no one will listen to him anymore." Len'char chuckled. "The fleets here ar emine, and I have a plan to defeat Earth Force."

"Clogging their guns with dead bodies?"

Len'char bare dhis teeth. "Hardly. Mitoc is a fortress, the defence grid is stronger even than Omelos. We wait and let them come here as they must do. Then we let them bleed themselves dry trying to take this world."

"Masterful, and if they manage to defeat the ships you plan to sit stationary in front of that awesome level of firepower, what then?"

"Don't be so negative, victory is assured."

"Oh it will be an easy win." Ari agreed. "If you're human."

"This is where we make our stand, here." Len'char said. "They must beat us here to continue on to Omelos. They will fail."

"I do say so." Len'char repeated. "Now, I must go and attend to business. Sha'dur's demise has opened a post on the council which must be filled."

"I am sure you already have a candidate picked out. How convenient."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"His seat is not even cold and you would put a puppet in it." Ari laughed. "I always thought politics was complicated, but you have all the subtlety of a drunk Narn."

"This is how the game of state is played."

"Not by my Father, perhaps that is why he is so weak?"

Len'char turned to leave. "Maybe it is." The smaller man began to leave. "Or maybe he picked the wrong people to play against. I will see you again Ari'shan. Perhaps you should think of the future?"

Len'char vanished away radiating smugness, he was under the impression he had won and the way was clear for his ascension to leadership. He didn't think anyone could oppose him anymore, that his enemies were either dead, or as good as. It wasn't the first mistake he had made.

"Arn'dal." Ari whispered the name of Jha'dur's chief Spectre.

"Sir." Rasped a voice beside him emanating as if from thin air. The stealth suits they wore were as good as perfect, provided they made no noise the Spectres could go anywhere invisibly.

"How is security?"

"I have thirty Spectres deployed through the building." He said. "Already we intercepted one attempt to poison the Warmaster."

"Result?"

"I broke the traitors neck in person." There was smile in the rasp. "Never saw it coming."

"And Len'char?"

"My two best agents are trailing him. Where he goes, they go. He has no secrets from us."

"Our Warmaster will need that information when she awakes." Ari'shan said. "The orders…"

He did not finish, the Spectres had been watching Len'char for a long time, since before Sha'dur's death, and they had found out Len'char had ordered the more capable Warmaster to hold an indefensible position.

"We have the evidence of Len'char's treachery." Arn'dal replied. "The only reason he still breathes is because I want our Warmaster to have the pleasure of ending his life."

"I trust he will not be able to communicate with the fleet?"

"An unfortunate accident has severed communications." Arn'dal chuckled slightly. "The defences of this world will be under War Captain Tor'han of the home fleet and your brother Dal'shan."

Ari smiled, those two officers were old school warriors and both had taken on the lessons of Jha'dur and Gar'shan.

"Then it is up to you and I to make sure it stays that way." The pilot stated simply. "And keep Len'char busy until Jha'dur awakes."

"Then the fun begins." The Spectre said without amusement, just anticipation.

"Before we face Earth we must eliminate weakness in our own ranks. Whatever the cost." It was against Ari'shans ideals to undertake this sort of surreptitious scheming and political gaming, but without Sha'dur to take a lead it had unenviably fallen to him. As a son of the Supreme Warmaster he would do his duty.

"If Jha'dur dies, the war is lost." Ari watched the uncharacteristically helpless female. "I only hope she still has the strength to fight on when she learns what has happened."

"She will." Arn'dal confirmed. "And anything trying to stop her will die in unimaginable horror. Should be entertaining."

Ari didn't think so, but it was necessary for the future of his people, and perhaps for his Father too.

"It will be worth it, it has to be."


	68. Chapter 68

67

Mitoc

Dilgar Fortress world

The world was a nightmare of turning images, of oppressive heat and bitter cold. Bright lights seared deep into her mind, followed moments later by grey clogging smoke and shadows. She was both standing still and falling at the same time, weightless in the void and crushed by a thousand rocks. Her body was numb but burning in flame, alive but also dead.

More than once she had to ask herself if this was hell.

By any reasonable conscience in the universe she knew she had done evil, perhaps the greatest evils ever visited on sentient life since the galaxy coalesced into its stars and worlds. There was so much blood on her hands, her words and deeds and killed Billions of beings, so many lives and years of potential snatched from the universe. So many voices silenced before they could add to the path of history, such an emptiness where there should be joy and song and laughter.

And in person how many had died, how many hundred and gone to their maker in agony beneath the silver blade of her scalpel or the jab of a needle? How many thousands poisoned? How many still lived but would never be whole again? She had destroyed lives without needing death, her victims still drew breath but inside their souls had been crippled and ruined.

Through her actions she was more responsible than any other officer. Her designs had filled the Dilgar Navy with lethal and efficient tools of mass destruction. Her understanding of biology, of the very process of life itself had allowed her to bring death on an industrial scale. Her cunning and understanding of variable strengths and weaknesses in enemies had secured victory after victory against all the odds. Her ruthlessness kept captured worlds under Dilgar control, mainly by massive slaughter and genocide.

If any one person could be picked to sum all that was most dear to the Dilgar and most reviled by everyone else, it was Warmaster Jha'dur. Her fate seemed intertwined with her people, she had started small and insignificant like Omelos, had risen in power, ability and combat power, she had attained a place of legend like her world, and then suffered a crushing blow from humanity, one from which neither Warmaster or Imperium was expected to recover from.

Now Jha'dur swam in this hell, this prison behind her own eyes paying for her sins against the galaxy in the cruellest of torment she could not escape from. The most powerful person in the Imperium, perhaps the most feared creature to walk the stars in a thousand years lay sad and helpless trapped in the very mind that had made her so formidable. And while she writhed in purgatory the Imperium was falling down about her.

She didn't know why, or how, but there suddenly came a desire into her fevered mind to open her eyes. It was a simple enough task but one she had not been able to undertake in some weeks, and was thinking she would never do again. With as much effort as she could remember applying to any task she summoned forth her will, the fierce personality that defined her to cut through the nightmare and reassert control. She was a Warmaster, and damned to hell or not she wasn't finished with the galaxy yet, not by a long shot.

At first she couldn't tell if the effort had paid off, only darkness rewarded her diligence. Everything was quiet, unstirring, but noticeably cooler than her wracked dreams had made it feel. Within a few moments her vision had begun to adjust, and once she established that this was indeed reality and not vision she directed effort to her limbs to see if they could also be brought back to motion.

There were several questions on her mind, the first of which was obviously an assessment of her health, followed by an overview of the situation since her last memory. She was alive, and based on the taste of the air on a planet somewhere. She guessed Mitoc, Omelos was more polluted today than ever before. The War industry was wrecking the ecosystem, but as the world had maybe five years at most anyway the War Council couldn't care less.

She recalled the sensor reports of incoming missiles, then she recalled being on a stretcher trying to warn someone, her brother. Then it all went literally to hell.

"Warmaster."

She knew the voice, though it came from nowhere. For a while she wondered if she was imagining it until a figure robed in black materialised in the room beside her bed. She fought back an urge to scream, delving into her still fractured memory to draw the swift conclusion.

"Arn'dal." She said weakly, flexing her lips to return some feeling and dexterity to them. "How long?"

"With respect Warmaster, you have endured much and are weak, you should…"

Jha'dur snapped bolt upright in bed, sitting perfectly rigid and motionless as if she was perfectly well. The effort to do so almost sent her back into unconsciousness but sheer willpower kept her alert and ready. Her days of weakness were done.

"How long Commander?"

The Spectre relented. "Six weeks."

Her breath caught, it was a very long time to be out of touch, especially given how fast wars could turn. She knew full well they could be lost in minutes, after six weeks she dreaded to think what could have happened in her absence.

"Where are the humans?"

"Warmaster I urge you to eat and rest before returning to duty."

"Plenty of time for that later, where are they?"

"At Bestine Warmaster."

She cursed. "Then they have their gateway to the League, but we couldn't have held it if we tried. I trust my brother ordered a timely evacuation?"

"He did Warmaster."

"Then I am glad my forced absence has not impacted us greatly. I will need a few moments to dress and clean myself before you brief me fully."

"As you wish Warmaster, but I am sorry to tell you things have been going very badly for us, we have taken some hard losses."

"Leave me a few minutes Arndal." She said calmly. "I appreciate the guard you have held over me."

"My duty and obligation Warmaster."

The Spectre vanished into nothing, and she heard a door close in an adjoining room in her assigned quarters. That was when she passed out.

She wasn't out long, she guessed a few minutes meaning Arn'dal would not be worried. With much greater care this time she sat up and slowly climbed from her bed. She would never show it, not to anyone, but she was weak and barely able to walk. As a Warmaster she had to be strong at all times and never reveal any hint of vulnerability. She led by example, and that example was never failing.

She took a shower, cleansing the aches from her joints and allowing the strength to return gradually at a reasonable pace. She pushed herself but not too far this time, staying to her limits and letting her body fight atrophy in its own way. She groomed herself, returning to her normal immaculate appearance and located her uniform. She found Arn'dal had provided her clothes from Omelos, no doubt her duty uniform from the battle of Markab was ruined. She was however pleased to see her sword and sidearm were intact and the Spectre had meticulously cleaned the weapons to a pristine state. She would remember to thank him for that later.

Returning to the bedroom she found a full length mirror, taking in her reflection she looked every inch the Warmaster. She straightened her uniform, adjusted the heavy gold braiding on her shoulders and levelled her belt and its load of weaponry. Fully dressed and fully armed she began to feel herself, but inside was still just one break of willpower shy of falling over and drifting back into that hellish nightmare.

With a new confidence and poised she left the bedroom and entered an adjacent living room with the usual couch and chairs plus a window out onto the world she was on, correctly identified as Mitoc. The sun was just starting to stream through bright and pale illuminating the room. In the centre she saw there was a man stood waiting for her, and that almost made her break her stride.

As a rule nobody entered her quarters without permission, only those closest to her could come and go as they pleased, a level of trust reserved for less than a handful of people and even then they usually had the courtesy to let her know first.

She felt a slight touch on her back, reassurance that Arn'dal was there under cover to back her up. She nodded imperceptibly to him, then went to see this intruder.

"I may have been indisposed for a few weeks," She started making a great effort to sound commanding despite her weakened state. "But I doubt the custom of knocking has disappeared so soon?"

"Apologies Warmaster." The man said with no hint of meaning it. "I heard you were awake and wanted to see how you were."

"And how did you hear this?"

"Perhaps you would like to sit? I am sure you are still weak."

Jha'dur stood in a classic military 'At Ease' stance. "I am just fine here thank you, now, where is this place?"

"Mitoc." The man answered. He was dressed in a uniform bedecked with finery. She noted his chest was decked with medals, but they were mostly orders of merit and distinction, not bravery. He was no soldier.

"I had gathered that, more specifically?"

"The Command station." He answered. "Newly built, we thought it was more secure than the palace."

Which Jha'dur guessed it was lined with bugs and monitoring devices, explaining how they knew she was up and about. As he hadn't looked to where Arn'dal was she guessed they hadn't cracked the Spectre stealth gear.

"Where we will one day command military assets in this system. Good choice." She continued. "I know you're face."

"We met once before, I am Par'nan."

"Of course you are." Jha'dur clicked the memory. "Governor of Mitoc." And, she remembered, a close friend of Len'char.

"I believe you threatened to skin me alive last time we met."

"Yes I did, I'm glad I had other things to do with my time."

"I am sure we both are."

Jha'dur recalled this man was presumptuous, he had crossed a line with her in the past and failed to show her the respect owed a Warmaster. Like Len'char he was no doubt scheming to be rid of her.

"So, what news do you have to tell me?"

"Well the war has run into a few set backs, however we have consolidated our forces here at Mitoc and are ready to meet the humans."

"They are coming here?" Jha'dur asked.

"We assume so."

"Assume?" She raised an eyebrow. "Do you have evidence?"

"It is the obvious target."

"Like it was obvious the humans would not go to war in the first place?" she retaliated. "Do better than that Governor, I need intel reports, surveillance scans, the usual."

"We don't have any of those, but human strategy is entirely predictable. They are progressing in a straight line."

"We have so far failed to predict anything they have done, I fail to see why that would change now." Jha'dur shook her head. "What assets do we have?"

"The Home Fleet, two Line Fleets and a Guard fleet are in orbit."

"Four thousand ships." Jha'dur appreciated. "A good start, but without proper training anf knowledge the humans will still burn them down in short order. It is of absolute vital importance we do not engage the humans until we have had time to train our ships and crews to counter Earth Force."

"You have a plan already?" Par'nan asked in surprise.

"No, not yet." Jha'dur chuckled. "I'm not that good Governor. No, first I will need to test them in small skirmishes, fighting only where vital to delay their plans."

"I am sure the Council will hear these plans."

"Quite." Jha'dur scoffed at the notion, she was just about through listening to the Council. "What is the status of the Strike fleets?"

"There are no Strike fleets." Par'nan said.

Jha'dur shot him a glance. "Explain Governor."

"First strike fleet was decimated by Earth at Markab, your survival was lucky and not often repeated. Ninety Five percent losses."

It took huge effort not to turn white with shock, she had expected heavy losses, but not that heavy.

"Second Strike fleet lost Seventy percent." Par'nan continued. "Survivors of both units have been incorporated into the Home Fleet."

Jha'dur accepted the facts and filed them for later, the fleet she had led was gone, but the reason she led them still existed and in their name she would fight on and achieve what they had sacrificed for.

"Who is in command?" She expected her brother to be named, or perhaps Dar'sen.

"Warmaster Len'char."

It was a toss up between laughing or crying.

"Len'char is leading the defence against Earth?"

"So says the Council."

"well, we may have to make some slight alterations now I am ready to return to duty."

"Yes, about that." Par'nan said lowly. "The Council is debating whether you should be allowed to resume fleet command."

Jha'dur reminded herself this was actually real. "Did I just hear that?"

"You did lose in spectacular fashion to Earth." Par'nan stated with no subtlety. "Under your guidance we suffered our greatest ever defeat, someone must answer."

She smiled. "And Len'char wants it to be me. How very unoriginal."

"it is a Council decision, once you are fit you will return to Omelos to give evidence."

"I can't believe the Supreme Warmaster will agree to this!" She snapped.

"Gar'shan slipped into a coma not long after you did, he may already be dead." Par'nan informed. "Len'char now speaks for the Council, and commands here."

That news was hard to take, she knew Gar'shan's health was failing but it was still bitter news to live with. She knew she could save him somehow, but she always thought she'd have enough time later. Perhaps time had finally run out for him.

"So now Len'char has the Council, the largest of our fleets, and command of the war against Earth." Jha'dur reasoned coldly. "I bet he is very happy."

"He does his duty, as you must do yours."

Slowly she raised her gaze to the Governor. "Did you just try to tell me what to do? Did you forget our last conversation on that subject? It involved flaying."

"With respect Warmaster," He pointed to the rank on his chest. "We are equal now, so it is well within my power to say whatever I want to you."

She felt Arn'dal tense beside her, but shook her head slightly. She hadn't noticed it before but Par'nan did indeed bear the rank of Warmaster. No wonder he had such swagger.

"Gar'shan is not yet in his grave and already Len'char has his replacement on the Council."

"Gar'shan still holds his place Jha'dur."

She bristled at his use of her name so casually. "There are nine members of the Council. To be promoted there has to be a vacancy. Don't tell me you wrote me off so fast?"

"Actually another vacancy arose. Your brother."

Jha'dur's brain, usually lightning fast on the uptake, did not register that snippet.

"Don't be absurd, there is no way you can remove my brother. People actually like him."

"I did not have to, Earth Force did it for me."

She tried to say something disparaging, but for some reason the clever words failed to come out. "You're lying to me."

"No Jha'dur, I am not. Sha'dur is dead. Killed by a Markab cruiser."

"Wrong."

"I have the footage if you would like to see it?"

She took a step backwards unconsciously. "leave me."

"I have a job to do here."

"Get the hell out of my sight!" She screeched at the very top of her lungs before tripping over her heels and hitting the floor, all semblence of military pride gone. She tried to stand but failed entirely, succeeding only in falling again. She found her vision obscured by unbidden tears and her voice releasing only inarticulate howls.

"Warmaster Jha'dur, I can see this is a bad time." Par'nan seemed to be rather enjoying this turn around, gazing down at the shattered wreck at his feet. Arn'dal was seconds away from eviscerating him where he stood, already the Spectre had moved to block the door and was just fighting to make that last decision to slay a Warmaster.

On the ground Jha'dur was lost, inside she was screaming at herself to shut up but could not stop the banshee like wals of desolation her heart produced. Her uniform was uneven now, clean grooming dishevelled and messy, she was no Warmaster, she was what she had created on a hundred worlds, a broken and inconsolable relative of wars true price. She had finally reaped what she had sown.

"Of course you will still have to face judgement, but at least your brother did not." Par'nan continued. "Perhaps you will take a similar path, save yourself any more of this embarrassment."

Her mind was a thunderstorm of pain and images, memories collapsing on her psyche like an avalance of colour and emotion. She couldn't separate them and was losing herself in this flood. Her consciousness was overwhelmed by the news, just letting go and drifting into the absolute bliss of oblivion carried to the sound of screaming grief.

"Perhaps your way out ends with one gun, and one well placed bullet." Par'nan finished. "Better for all of us, Jha'dur. End it yourself."

The fierce deluge reached a climax and it was as if her head would explode on her shoulders, there was such a pain in her skull and such an unending maelstrom she was ready to surrender and do just that. But then, from amidst it all she heard one clear and crystal voice state simply No.

And then, just like that, it cleared. Sound, images, feelings, all gone. With the speed of a bullet everything slotted perfectly into place and she saw in complete clarity for the first time in her life. It was a deep sensation, she had imagined she had control before, but this was so much more.

Her wailing stopped, her vision cleared and with her back to Par'nan she stood slowly to her feet, taking a long inhalation of fresh air, closing her eyes and savouring the coolness in her lungs.

"Do as I say Jha'dur." Par'nan sneered. "Do us all a favour, end your life."

She opened her eyes, feeling that clarity of purpose give her strength and reason. She smiled ever so slightly, then in a fluid motion turned quickly on her heel. As she did her hand had drawn the sword by her side, the elegant yet deadly ceremonial badge of her office and swept it in an arc without resistance. The light pouring in through the window was suddenly tinted with specks of red.

She looked into Par'nan's eyes with pure steely coldness, watching him blink a few times until his head rolled from his shoulders and hit the ground with a hollow thunk. His body folded straight after.

"Don't tell me what to do." She informed Par'nan's departing ghost. "Arn'dal."

"Here Warmaster."

"How many of us are there?"

"Thirty Spectres under Ari'shan."

"Is Len'char here?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Seal the building." She ordered. "If anyone attempts to leave, kill them on the spot."

"As you order Warmaster."

"I have some video to review, I must know the truth. Leave me."

Control Room

She had seen the event twenty times from a dozen different angles. She had reviewed gun camera footage, sensor data, audio recordings, everything from every angle. All of it linked together in one brutal tapestry of events. It had not been a lie, her brother had been killed in action by the Allied Fleet.

Sat alone in the mission control room she watched it again, seeing the Markab vessel ram the Dreadnought Conqueror and frame by frame observed in horrific detail the flames slicing through the hull of the mighty ship before its Jump engines overloaded and collapsed the vortex down upon the Dilgar ship. It was utterly destroyed.

She watched it another time, distantly aware that another figure had entered the blue lit room and was heading her way. Owing to the fact he was moving and not lying in a pool of his own blood she guessed her guards knew him and trusted him. Her guess would have been Ari'shan, and it seems she was entirely correct.

"I was going to tell you myself later today." Ari'shan stated quietly from behind her. "I thought it would be better if you heard it from me."

"Sit down." She gestured to a chair beside her. "I want to start this by thanking you for staying with me during my incapacity."

"I could have done nothing less." He stated simply.

"And I am glad you survived battle with Earth. Many did not."

"A great many." Ari nodded. "But at least they fell to a worthy enemy."

"A cold comfort." She said bitterly.

Ari looked down quickly, realising his words were probably not appropriate for his grieving friend. "I am sorry this happened. It should never have come to this."

"But it did. And now Sha'dur is dead." She answered flatly. "Nothing is going to change that or make me feel better about it."

"His death was a good death, for whatever that counts for."

"It counts for nothing." Jha'dur returned. "I trusted him ahead of all others. He was my brother Ari, and the only person in the galaxy I really cared about. Of course I have respect and affection for Gar'shan, something more for Dal'shan. But Sha'dur was blood, the last of my line beside me and now I am all that is left of my family and its long heritage."

"He went into battle knowing he couldn't win." Ari related gently. "He fought because to do otherwise would see him executed for cowardice or insubordination, and then no one would be able to protect you. He could either face a firing squad on Omelos or face the massed Earth fleets in open battle. He chose the latter."

"An impossible choice, engineered by Len'char."

Ari wanted to say something supportive and comforting, but he couldn't lie. "Yes, from the start it was his scheme."

"From a reading of his pre-battle plan he could have survived this." Jha'dur stated.

"He could have, but when our lines broke he did not flee. He drove forward to relieve pressure on the other elements of his force. He waded into battle even knowing the power of his enemy so that others may escape and live to fight again. It was act of great nobility skilfully executed. It was just that one ship."

"The Markab."

"I didn't see what happened, but from accounts it was part of a five ship squadron which charged through our lines. It was the only one to make it that far. It was a suicide mission from the start, the Markab knew it, but they undertook it anyway."

"They'll all pay for this murder, each and every Markab for the rest of eternity." Jha'dur snarled with immense vehemence. "I swear it."

"His decision saved four hundred ships from destruction."

"But didn't save him." Jha'dur remarked sombrely. "And he was worth more than four hundred ships."

Ari nodded. "Maybe he was, but now you are back to lead us."

"Not if the Council has anything to say about it."

The pilot beside her grunted. "Len'char's influence has grown quite a lot."

"So I've heard. Still he is not unassailable."

"Those of us loyal to you have been working to limit his power, it is a temporary measure, tricks and subversion, but now you are back we can act on a more permanent solution, send Len'char home in disgrace."

"That's one theory." Jha'dur said, still watching her screen. "I have one or two others."

Ari bit his lip to hold in a slight moment of distaste. "Warmaster, our goal should be to remove Len'char from office."

"He won't be in office when I am done with him."

"We should focus on exposing his failures and let the people decide his fate."

"Through the course of the law?" She asked spitefully. "People like him changes laws on a whim. We tried to remove him through political means before, he just came back and killed my brother."

"Warmaster, we can't sink to his level."

"That would be impossible." She returned. "I appreciate your opinion, and your efforts to contain Len'char, but this is not a situation you can handle."

"And why not?"

"Because you still care about things like honour and duty." Jha'dur replied.

"And you don't?"

"Not anymore." The Warmaster shook her head. "I don't care about anything anymore."

"I know that isn't true."

"Really?" she addressed him. "Look at what I was, I defeated the League and in my arrogance considered myself infallible, a perfect Warmaster. Earth Force proved me wrong and I know why."

"No one…"

"If I hear how I am not to blame one more time I will scream." She stated. "I am to blame, I accept that and feel no guilt. That was my last flaw, I cared too much for the people under my command. I shielded them, tried to limit their losses and failed to plan contingencies. I tried to get no one killed, and ended up getting them all killed. I've learned that lesson now."

"Warmaster…."

"Yes, I am a Warmaster." She stated firmly. "And it is my job to wage war regardless of cost. War is the bringer of death, and I am death embodied. Human, Dilgar, League. All of tem will die on my word, that is why I am here and why I was put in this position of command."

"With respect Warmaster, your job is to win with the minimum losses to the Imperium."

"That is what I used to think, but it seems I was wrong. When I fought by those rules I lost, so now I have the new doctrine. Victory by any means. Lives lost don't matter, just the pursuit of war and final ultimate victory."

"Even if you are the only one left standing?"

"If that is what it takes to win, then let the galaxy burn at my feet. Friend and foe alike. Death will be served, war will be fed, and I will be it's instrument."

Ari'shan found her words disturbing, nothing like the usually creative woman he had almost grown up with.

"Warmaster, that isn't how you win a war like this."

"It is war in the purest form. The victor is the one who fights hardest and sacrifices most. I must kill to succeed, kill both the enemy and my own to earn victory. I realise that now."

"These are Dilgar lives we're taking about."

"They're all dead anyway, so what does it matter? Just a case of when, and how, and if it serves a purpose. It will."

"Earth is a powerful enemy, but there is no need to resort to such extremes!"

"Look at what has happened!" she hit the screen showing her brothers Dreadnought explode. "We tried to fight them conventionally and we lost badly! We can't beat Earth through clever flanking moves or warrior spirit! We will win only by drowning them in blood! We must send people to die to stop them, and we will lose vast numbers of pople but as long as they do too, so be it."

"This can't be your plan."

"Most of our race will die when the Sun goes Nova, we can't save them all, you know that. they can die there or die here for me, their lives are already over but if they die for me they can take some aliens down with them."

"Even if you are right." Ari said. "Mass waves don't work, Earth Force just cuts them out of the sky in droves."

"We must use more ships." Jha'dur said. "Tougher ships, and we must pick the right time when the humans are vulnerable. It's all about timing and placement. Timing and placement."

"Do you think Mitoc will hold them?" Ari'shan asked.

"If they try to take us head on, probably." Jha'dur nodded. "Though Len'char's plan plays into human hands. I have a few ideas of my own using the planet as an anchor and rally point to conduct slashing attacks on Earth Force. Perhaps jumping in and out of hyperspace with paired ships. Anything that hurts them but keeps us mobile."

"So the great battle of our time will be fought here, over our new Homeworld."

"Only if the humans attack, and I am not convinced they will." Jha'dur frowned. "If I were them I would raid this place, pick off ships here and there, weaken us to a point where we can't fight back. Then they'll strike."

"Sounds like a human plan." Ari grunted. "But if they do come in force…"

"Our losses will be gigantic, but so will theirs. We can afford the losses, but Earth is a democracy where public opinion counts for a lot. Send them enough widows and orphans and it may shake their resolve. We don't have to kill them all, just break them."

"That in itself will be a hard task, we've caused only moderate losses to their fleets at the costs of hundreds of thousands of lives." Ari reminded. "They just outfight us."

"There is no such thing as an unbeatable enemy." Jha'dur stated. "Take their strength and make it a weakness."

"Their ships are incredibly hard to kill, look at that Dreadnought at Markab."

"They have thick armour, lots of metal. That requires more mining, more refining, longer construction times. We will always have a numerical advantage." Jha'dur counted. "Plus it makes them slow, sluggish giving us a speed and agility advantage."

"Their medium ships can outgun our heaviest vessels."

"That firepower costs resources. Rail gun rounds and missiles are limited and must be brought up in supply ships. Lasers and Plasma cannons drain reactant from the fuel stores. The more they fire, the less time they can hang in battle. Put them in an intense battle and they'll expend their ammunition very rapidly."

"At the cost of our ships." Ari added.

"If it drains their weapons banks it was well spent." Jha'dur answered.

The pilot leaned back in his chair. "So how do we exploit this?"

"First we need to find the limits of their designs." Jha'dur reasoned. "Small scale raids and skirmishes, catch human ships alone or in small groups as they travel between bases. Find out how long they last and what we need to kill them."

"Then what?"

"The human fleet has a low strategic speed, if I had faced this level of opposition I'd be at Omelos in these six weeks. The humans are good enough leaders to know this, the reason they have only advanced two jumps is because they are limited by the endurance of their ships. Supplies Ari, that is what we must exploit."

"Some of our reconnaissance flights show huge human convoys, hundreds of ships strong."

"As expected, the humans make war on a scale I didn't believe possible." Jha'dur acknowledged with some respect. "That is why we have to fight on an even grander scale and make the necessary sacrifices to overpower them."

"So we must cut their supply lines."

"Eventually, but not until we are ready for the decisive battle, and for that Ineed to educate our officers. They are skilled and determined, but they are not fit to fight Earth Force. Not yet. I have to make them into something greater, I have to make myself into something greater."

"Is that possible Warmaster?"

For the first time she actually smiled. "I was never perfect, Earth showed me my failings. They taught me how a real war is fought. Total war Ari, every fibre of an empire bent on the single goal of utter destruction of the enemy. They have many advantages, but we have the greatest."

"And that is Warmaster?"

"The fighting spirit of the Dilgar race." She answered confidently. "We will lose thousands of lives, millions, tens of millions, but we will just fight that much harder for every loss. That is our way, and the humans will run out of will before we run out of lives."

"Can you be sure of that Warmaster?"

"No, but if they don't break nothing matters anyway. We'll be driven to Omelos and die there in a few years time. It isn't a fight to the death, it's a fight for life and there is nothing more fierce than that."

They sat in silence for a while, Jha'dur watching her brother's last moments a further time.

"There is a legend among the older races." She spoke finally. "The one's who have been in space a long time. They say that if your ship is destroyed as it crosses into hyperspace, while its in the jump vortex, that you never actually die."

Ari frowned. "That doesn't make sense.

"Because you are breaking through time and space for a while you are isolated from both, in a sort of phase space between real space and hyperspace. We pass through it so fast it doesn't affect us, but if your ship is destroyed you are forcibly thrown through the barrier and enter this limbo cut off from time."

"Is there any evidence for this?"

"I don't know, Sha'dur was the expert in hyperspace mechanics, and I just never found the time to ask him. Now I never will." She considered sadly. "His ship was lost as it tried to make hyperspace. Perhaps he is trapped there."

"Then he may not be dead, there might be a way to rescue him." Ari suggested.

"No, I doubt it. If no one has cracked this in a thousand years I doubt it is real. Be a useful tactical advantage to travel through this phase dimension."

"I'm sorry Warmaster. He's gone."

"It might be for the best." Jha'dur watched the screen again. "The other half of the legend says you are trapped at the moment of death when your ship finally exploded. Burning in fuel fires, pulped and crushed by hell segments collapsing, your lungs sucked from your chest and eyes frozen by sudden vacuum exposure. You live for ever, in eternal pain."

The pilot felt his throat dry. "Gods, it's a nightmare."

"It was supposed to be a Technomage story, which would give it a lot of weight."

"Technomages?" Ari frowned.

"I'll tell you about them some other time." Jha'dur nodded. "I'm sure it's just a story. To think of Sha'dur caught like that… No, can't be real."

"It isn't." Ari'shan agreed. "It's just a tale to frighten people. Not true."

"I know the truth now." Jha'dur said quietly. "About how my brother died and why. And I know what must be done."

Ari looked at her straight. "Don't do something we'll all regret."

"Far too late for that." She smiled slightly. "I waited too long to act, I should have done this a year ago and prevented all this from happening. One throat cut in the night, and my brother would still be here."

"You can't think like that, killing Len'char solves nothing! There are other ways, please listen to me."

"Come Ari, you knew this was going to happen. You must have."

He stiffened a little. "I accepted that it was possible, and it was a price I would pay to bring you back. If Len'char had to die then he would. But you don't need to do it this way, not now you can use this evidence to finish him legally!"

""We must kill the weak."

"If that is what it takes." Ari found himself slipping into her argument. "But we don't have to kill them to destroy them."

Jha'dur considered that for a moment. "Actually, yes, you are right. We don't have to kill them at all."

Ari'shan was a little reluctant to declare victory. "You agree with me?"

"As a matter of fact yes, you've given me a new idea." Jha'dur smiled. "Why waste time killing them?"

He smiled a little, still with a nagging doubt about how easily she had changed her mind. Normally she was impossible to turn once she had resolved on a course of action. "Well good."

"I need you to take some orders to the Home Fleet for me in person." Jha'dur said. "I trust you with this above all others."

"I understand."

"Make sure no Dilgar vessel engages a human ship if possible. If engaged, they will run unless they have orders from me directly to fight. Is that clear?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Until we can build a profile of human strengths and weaknesses, we will be fighting an uneven battle we can't win. Best to avoid them altogether."

"And conserve our strength for the future when we counter attack." He guessed.

"Exactly." She grinned. "I will go to Omelos and convince the Council in person of this new strategy. I can be very persuasive."

Ari paused. "You aren't doing this just to get me off planet are you?"

She gave him an innocent look. "Why would I ever do a thing like that?"

"Jha'dur, please. Promise me you won't kill Len'char. This goes beyond vengeance, this is a matter for the people of Omelos. I know he's done something absolutely terrible to you, but there is more at stake here."

"Don't worry Ari, I know what I am doing."

"Promise me you won't kill him, as brother to sister." Ari insisted. "Promise me."

"I promise I will not kill Len'char." Jha'dur said solemnly. Then she broke into the most evil grin Ari could remember seeing. "No matter how much he begs for it."

An hour later.

"No, don't tell me that!" Warmaster Len'char pounded his fist on the table, making his computer screen and the man on it shudder. "Why can't I talk to the fleet or the Council?"

"I'm sorry Warmaster." The technician said. "We just don't have the parts, and no way to manufacture new ones."

"That is unacceptable!"

"It is the truth Warmaster, we have requested a replacement set of antennae and decoders from Omelos, but it will take a few weeks to arrive."

"How am I supposed to cantact the fleet?"

"You would have to take a shuttle up Warmaster. Fleet communications are all fine, you can reach the Council or other vessels from there."

"The point of this facility is so I don't have to run a battle from a ship!"

"I understand Warmaster, it is quite a dangerous…"

"Danger?" Len'char snapped defensively. "I'm not afraid to fight! It is simply more efficient to fight from here in this base."

"Of course Warmaster."

"Just fix it before the end of the week, or I'll see you hang."

He cut off the message in anger, he was surrounded by fools. That, he had decided, was why he was still in this position, the failure of everyone else to live up to his expectations and standards. It drove him mad that simple soldiers like Jha'dur were all but worshipped by the dumb masses while he, the greatest politician and thinker of the age, languished unknown and even ridiculed.

Still, his time was coming and all his long set up plans were about to come to fruition.

"Par'nan?" he checked the other Warmaster's commsignal. "Dammit Par'nan, it doesn't take this long! Answer me!"

There was no response, and nobody had seen the newest Warmaster since the morning.

"Little gratitude wouldn't hurt." He muttered, then cut the link and started pouring himself a drink. Unknown to him his every move and action was being watched and quietly reported by a Spectre less than a dozen feet away.

Arn'dal was moving down the corridor like a force of nature, he was grinning widely as his purpose had been restored and his considerable talents were about to see use. Jha'dur was back and despite having been awake for less than two hours she was as strong as she had ever been. In fact, based on his long service with the Warmaster, she had never been better.

Seeing her collapse upon news of her brother's death had shaken him. Jha'dur was the strongest person he knew and to see her laid low had rocked him badly. But her recover was as swift as it was violent, the dead body in her room attested to the fact that Jha'dur was not about to let the Dilgar Imperium be pushed around like stakes in a game.

The Warmaster was tearing through the facility without allowing herself to be distracted by anyone and anything, it was like the old days for Arn'dal and his Spectres, the days when Jha'dur terrified all in her path and made them move or face the consequences. Clerks and off duty officers hastily stepped aside and offered salutes, breaking into muttered conversation as the Warmaster passed. Her return was clearly causing a stir for the various service people on the base and elliciting both positive and negative reactions.

Six Spectres trailed her under stealth, passing like a faint breeze in the wake of the hurricane. They were armed and ready to do whatever Jha'dur ordered including the destruction of anyone in her path. Dilgar or not, today blood would spill and that red river would announce the return of the one true manifestation of Dilgar purpose.

She took the stairwell three steps at a time, pumping with so much energy and vigour it was a joy to behold. She was more focused now, more determined in her course than she had been before an battle or meeting. She had no more doubt or hesitation, for Arn'dal it was clear she had changed and in his opinion for the better. No more messing around, no more tact or civility, no more games and politics. That day was gone, the Imperium was witnessing a new dawn.

She found the doors at the top of the stairwell locked, leading to Len'char's personal quarters which dominated the whole upper floor of the facility. She took a few paces back before speaking.

"Open it."

A few seconds later the doors exploded outwards in shards of wood and a puff of white smoke, the lock annihilated by a shaped plasma charge from Arn'dal's kit. The Warmaster stepped through the fog slowly and carefully to face three armed guards stood several yards away in a large lobby that served to admin visitors to Len'char's study. The blocked her path, clearly a little fazed by the somewhat dramatic entrance.

"I am here to see Len'char." She spoke in perfect modulation. "You may escort me."

"Warmaster Jha'dur." The leading Guard spoke up. "Turn and return to your quarters at once, or we will restrain you and carry you there."

The Warmaster tilted her head, hummed a little, then with a well trained movement snapped up her side arm and put a bolt of blue energy through the Guards chest. His two comrades moved to act, but neither managed to raise their rifles past waist height before they were cut down by gunfire emerging from nowhere.

She continued walking forward, pausing by the still breathing leader.

"People need to stop trying to tell me what to do." She ended the thought with another gunshot, then moved on.

"Len'char is two doors away." Arn'dal reported.

Jha'dur pointed at the next set of doors.

"Make me a hole in there."

Like the first set these doors also provided no resistance to the Spectres, opening onto another corridor at the end of which lay the door to Len'char's quarters and two more guards.

The two soldiers fumbled with their rifles as Jha'dur walked patiently up to them.

"Soldiers of the Imperium, you have orders from Len'char to stay. I am ordering you to go. Make a choice as to who you think will be signing death warrants tomorrow."

The decision proved remarkably easy to come to based on the evidence at hand, and with a slight glance and nod to each other the two guards ran, never knowing how close they came to target practice for the Spectres.

"Arn'dal, come with me." Jha'dur said. "you have a man inside already?"

"Affirmative Warmaster."

"Everyone else fan out, secure this floor. No one leaves, no one enters."

She found the electronic door lock and entered her command code, shaking her head to see Len'char hadn't thought to cancel her access.

"He's mine." She said finally, then pushed the button.

Len'char's video screen was displaying nothing but static, but the dull explosions outside had triggered a serious nervous reaction. Not being able to call for help was certainly not helping his situation.

"Security! Central Control! Anyone!" He yelled, then with a roar threw a punch at the screen sending it tumbling from his desk in fear and anger.

"You should be more careful, those aren't cheap."

Len'char spun to face the door. "It's about time you sent…" The words died in his throat.

Warmaster Jha'dur stepped through the door, letting it slide shut behind her a moment after. She took a quick look around the large and airy room decked out in white and gold.

"Has quite a Centauri feel to it." She acknowledged. "Very Imperial. I hope you aren't getting ideas above your station old friend, Emperor Len'char just doesn't fit."

"You…you're… awake." The small man stuttered.

"Well spotted, clearly your powers of observation have not left you." Jha'dur said with no sarcasm. "Though it is a miracle I am here. Don't you agree?"

He just nodded.

"I was blown up, nuked, poisoned, evacuated twice, and apparently the subject of three assassination attempts. Not a bad record."

Again he just nodded, mouth open as his mind brought up desperate thoughts of his fate.

"You see I have a theory about miracles." Jha'dur continued. "They happen to show you something, to put you on a certain path you were maybe drifting from. A second chance, but also a stern reminder."

Len'char held his ground as Jha'dur walked to the window and looked out.

"Isn't Mitoc wonderful? Perfect match for pre-industrial Omelos. Already you can see the plants and animals we've introduced are thriving. And the colonists couldn't be happier."

Finally Len'char got his thoughts in order and remembered exactly who he was. While he had no true naval or army experience, he still carried the side arm and sword of a senior officer.

"They were happy." Len'char gathered the nerve to speak as he drew his particle pistol. The fell of the weapon, its weight and lethality gave him a renewed sense of power and assurance. Jha'dur was many things, but she wasn't supernatural and she wouldn't stop a particle bolt. "I bet you imagined they'd be crying in the streets for you."

"Why would they, I am still alive and well." She turned back to him, not even registering the gun in his hand. "While I live Len'char they have hope we can win this war."

"You caused our greatest disaster."

"Actually invading Markab space triggered that." Jha'dur returned. "Which if the Council records are correct was your initial idea for an easy win."

"The Council voted my way, it wasn't just me!"

"Of course not Len'char." Jha'dur smiled in good nature. "And don't worry, there will be a reckoning for the Council too. But why don't we talk about you first?"

"I have nothing to say to you." He held the gun stiffly, feeling it shake a little.

"You are usually so talkative." Jha'dur sighed. "Cat got your tongue?"

"You, you can't do anything here." Len'char countered. "I've filled the building with my best troops."

"Wrong on both counts." Jha'dur smiled. "This is my building now Len'char, your elite soldiers are right now either running away, or crying on the ground trying to hold their insides in."

"No, you're lying!"

"My Spectres take this sort of job very seriously. We're not going to be disturbed here."

"This planet is mine! You can't beat a whole world loyal to me!"

"I don't need to." Jha'dur shrugged. "You bribed them with power, money, high office. I simply informed them they'd suffer a fate worse than death. Guess which one of us proved most persuasive?"

Without noticing or his brain ordering it, Len'char was stepping back as Jha'dur stepped forward.

"Par'nan won't be bought by threats."

"No, probably not." Jha'dur agreed. "He has his eye on power. We had an interesting conversation."

Len'char gasped. "He saw you? Without informing me?"

"Oh sorry, did you expect he was on the same game plan you were? Perhaps he had his own plan Len'char that he didn't inform you of?"

"He still needs me, he will rally the defences, then storm this building and take you to Omelos in a steel cage!"

"I don't think Par'nan will be doing much of anything." She drew her sword, slowly allowing the glinting metal to catch the light, the lower third was still tinged red with blood.

"No." Len'char shook his head in revulsion at the ichor.

"Par'nan I'm afraid won't be joining us for the rest of your life." She offered mock condolences. "He chose some poor words, and I gave him a little elocution lesson."

Len'char watched as all his plans began to fall away. No one was going to save him, if he wanted to live he was going to have to get his hands dirty. He raised his gun higher, and still Jha'dur ignored it.

"You shouldn't have killed him." Len'char sneered, though his voice was high with fear. "Murdering a Warmaster holds the highest of penalties."

"Yes, doesn't it?" Jha'dur replied. "And how about murdering the Supreme Warmaster?"

He bit his lip. "Good luck finding out who did that."

"Well, Gar'shan isn't dead yet." The female continued. "But I have a list of suspects."

"The police will be investigating for years, if they even care." He grinend. "They will never narrow that list to one person."

"Actually I was just going to kill every single suspect." Jha'dur answered plainly. "One of them has to be guilty."

"That's insane."

"And why don't you take a guess who is top of that list Len'char?"

He bumped into a desk, halting his retreat. "You won't hurt me."

"I am getting quite fed up of being told what to do today Len'char." Jha'dur lowered her voice, putting a hard edge on her words. "And of all people Len'char, you are the one with the least right to speak to me like that."

The side arm was shaking in his hand. He grabbed the handle with both hands to steady it as the Warmaster continued her slow advance.

"I earned my place on the Council!" he spat. "I am a Warmaster by right!"

"Such a pity." She spoke regretfully. "At one time you had such potential. Remember the day you recruited me into the military? You of all people are to thank for putting me in uniform."

"Yes, yes it was all me." He said taking a new tack. "You owe me."

"And so ironic that by picking me you signed away your own fate." She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "There was a time early on when I looked up to you. Then of course I came to see you for what you really were."

"Everything I have done, it was for the Imperium."

"I've heard that too many times." She answered sternly. "It was all for your power. You couldn't rise to the level needed to lead without question, so instead you try to destroy everyone above you to lower the average."

"Not everyone can run a battle like you."

"Then those people should get out of the gods damned way." Jha'dur stated strongly. "And not get under the feet of real Warmasters. Sadly Len'char that wasn't a lesson you learned."

"It doesn't change the fact you will be executed for killing Par'nan."

"Yes, that was a mistake." Jha'dur looked down. "A fit of rage, just pure anger. I struck before I knew what I was doing." She looked back up. "It was far too merciful. But rest assured Len'char, not a mistake I'll make twice."

He held the gun even tighter. "Are you forgetting something?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

"All these threats, all these boasts." Len'char held his voice, drawing all the courage he had left to keep it even. "But there you are with a sword, and here I am with a gun."

"Well, what a shame I didn't predict that." She glared at him. "So, you plan to shoot me?"

"I think so."

"What about murdering a Warmaster?"

He smiled in growing confidence. "You ran at me, sword in hand. It was self defence."

"Oh, I see." She didn't stop advancing. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Len'char rested his finger on the trigger. It was slick with sweat. "nothing."

"Fire then."

"I will."

"Better make it quick, you don't want me coming other there."

She kept walking, Len'char tried to find the courage to finally do something himself, to do in person what he had ordered by stroke of pen.

"Come on Len'char." Jha'dur chided. "This is your one chance, I know you have it in there somewhere."

He could feel his trigger finger tighten, but it refused to move that extra fraction.

"You want to be a Warmaster? You want to lead? You have to be ready to kill Len'char. You want to see death in person, know what results your actions have." She never slowed down. She was merely feet away now. "I've done it often enough, seen that look of relaxation and resignation as a victim passes. Felt the warmth of their final breath on my face. Smelt their blood and tears. Come on Len'char, see what it's really like to kill."

The gun barrel wavered.

"Because if you don't kill me, you can't start to imagine the world I'll introduce you to."

He let out a small welp and in pure fear and panic made that last effort and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

"I knew eventually self preservation would kick in." Jha'dur smiled. "Maybe you are a Dilgar behind all that cowardice after all."

He pulled the trigger again, and then a third time with no results. If he was scared before, it was nothing compared to the utter terror now. He threw aside the gun and staggered back over his desk, yanking open the top drawer.

"Sounds like an empty power pack." She mused. "You should look after your weapons more, they might have saved your life."

He grabbed a second gun from the drawer and fired, it too died in his hands.

"What a pity." Jha'dur said quietly, taking immense amusement from the scenario. "I think you'll find the other three guns you own around the room are also in need of a fresh powerpack."

"How!" he cried.

"Do you take me for a fool Len'char?" She said with an edge of hard spite in her voice. "Do you think I haven't had my best people trailing you? Cutting communications? Sabotaging your defences?"

With tears of utter despair streaming down his face he drew his sword, glad to see the blade was actually still attached. H elunged at the other Warmaster with an energy born of panic, like a cornered animal knowing he was on his last chance. He put everything into the attack, and Jha'dur didn't even run out of breath.

She parried the clumsy attack with expert grace taught by the masters of the craft, swordsmen from Omelos with links to the knights of old who had kept their traditions alive. The late Kem'shan was considered the best swordsman on Omelos, but Jha'dur was close behind. He stumbled forward, slashing left and right wildly and forcing Jha'dur to give ground. With a final lunge designed to spear Jha'dur Len'char stabbed forward and spiked only thin air.

In return Jha'dur caught his blade with her own, and as Len'char over extended his reach she twisted his sword out of his hand and flung it across the room. Then with vicious strength punched Len'char in the nose with her hilt, breaking the bone in a welt of blood.

Len'char stagegred backwards again bouncing off the desk and falling ungraciously in his large chair, blood and tears bubbling now around his mouth as he began wailing in utter despair.

"For heaven's sake Len'char, at least try to act like a man." Jha'dur said in reproach. "People have lived through worse in that uniform."

He didn't care, he was out of options. "I'm Sorry!"

"Good, it's a start." Jha'dur took a handkerchief and cleaned her blade.

"I don't want to die!"

"And you don't have to Len'char." Jha'dur smiled warmly. "I don't want to kill you. Besides, I promised Ari'shan and inded his father many months ago that I wouldn't."

The words touched something in Len'char, and despite the pain he tried to regain a little control. "You, you'll let me live?"

"of course!" she laughed and put away her sword. "What did you expect? I'd cut off your head?"

"but… Par'nan.."

"Like I said, a mistake." She walked closer and perched on len'char's desk in front of him. "You get to live, hopefully forever if I ever get back to my research."

"But, the things I've done…"

"Well you'll just have to live with them, every single day."

He nodded. "I...I know, I was wrong."

"Very wrong."

"And I'm very sorry." Len'char said nodding briskly. "I'll be your ally now, I swear it, in the Council, everywhere. Just take command of the fleet for starters, it's yours!"

"How generous." She smiled. "You see Len'char, I favour this direct approach. Look how quick it is to get results, not like your schemes."

"no, much better."

"I mean with your schemes, you never know if you'll be alive when they come to fruition, do you?"

"No, you are always right."

She slid off the desk and crouched beside him, almost nose to ear.

"But I have to ask about Sha'dur." She whispered. "I know you ordered him to his death, knowing he wasn't going to come back alive."

Len'char felt the terror slowly returning, he would have to pick his words well. "I..I…"

"Say it Len'char."

"I'm sorry."

"Hmm." She shrugged. "Well I'm glad you were man enough to admit it. You'll be voting my way from now on."

"Yes of course."

"And you'll be giving me full fleet control." Jha'dur continued whispering. "And command of this front."

"Naturally, they're all yours."

"And you'll support my nomination for Supreme Warmaster."

Right now he'd agree to anything. "Completely!"

"But understand, I am not going to forgive you." She said.

"I…I understand."

"Well I'm glad we're on the same page." She smiled widely. "You heard my ship survived?"

"Yes, Yes I did."

"Well much of the inside s restored." She continued. "Including Lab Nine, isn't that great news?"

"Lab Nine?" Len'char's heart began to beat impossibly fast.

"I wanted the first subject in there to be special, sort of a rededication? First blood and all that."

"No, no you can't…"

"There we go telling me what to do again, I thought I mentioned that?"

"You said I'd live!"

"And you will Len'char. Well you'll be alive, I wouldn't call it living."

"Please, I beg you, please!"

"And when you are on my table Len'char." She moved closer, her whisper like a snake's hiss. "I want you to remember my brother. You recruited him too. You brought him to this role, this place. Then you sent him to die for your own reasons."

"Please gods no!"

"You made me what I am Len'char, you turned me into this monster, all of this is your work. What a masterpiece. Now I get to thank you properly Len'char for what you have done to me."

She stood and moved over the quivering and squealing wreck.

"Have mercy! Please, just let me go!"

"Mercy Len'char? I think you haven't been paying attention lately. I am Warmaster, Deathwalker, sister and daughter to dead men. I am dead, there's nothing left here anymore except a name, a body, and a job. I have expectations to live up to now Len'char. Starting right now."

"You don't have to do this!" Len'char sobbed, he couldn't comprehend what was to come.

"Well that's just the thing, I'm not that student from the science academy anymore, not the girl you found. I'm a Warmaster, so I have to fight the enemies of the Imperium whatever that takes. I am Deathwalker, so I have to slaughter everything in my path. These are the things I have been made into by people like you Len'char. Be proud of your creation."

"You are Jha'dur!"

"Not anymore." She smiled down. "She died when her brother died. It's just a name now, words and pictures in photographs of the past. Jha'dur was Ari'dur's daughter. Deathwalker is yours Len'char. I'm going to thank you for that in my own way."

She waved towards him, and strong invisible hands picked him out of his chair and effortlessly held him against his feeble struggles.

"Lab Nine." She said calmly. "Keep him intact, don't sedate him. Let him take the time to appreciate the journey."

The Spectres dragged the mewling and broken man away, a sight as pathetic as any she had seen, and while usually that would make her smile this time it didn't. She found no pleasure in this action no matter how just. She felt no joy or satisfaction, just anger and a desire to do great and terrible things.

She reached to her neck, and there hung around her neck as always was the cheap gold locket of her mother. Gently she took it out from under her collar and opened it, seeing the stern and proud face of her father alongside the soft features of her mother. Both were barely memories, so much had happened since their deaths she found she hardly recognized them anymore. They were slipping away just like she was.

Carefully she put it safely back close to her heart, then simply dropped to her knees and cried. It was the last time she would ever do so again.


	69. Chapter 69

68

N'Chak'Fah

Gaim homeworld.

According to Earth Force this was to be a Reconnaisance in force, a quick survey of the system with a heavily armed unit of warships to gauge Dilgar strength and if the opportunity arose to kill off a few loose enemy vessels. For Vice Admiral Thornhill, officer commander the EAS Lexington it was in fact a chance to take some heads.

"Lexington to fleet, action stations." She announced over all frequencies. "Stand by for attack, launch fighters and prepare interceptors for standard defensive posture."

Usually missions of this type consisted of some twenty vessels, in this case Thornhill had command of ten times that many, a decent battle fleet by most peoples standards and a good chunk of the Earth Alliance fleet strength. The force was however balanced more towards speed than a stand up fight lacking the heavy hitting strength of the Nova class Dreadnoughts. They were regrettably too slow and ungainly for this type of mission, a pity but not something Thornhill dwelt on.

Her force instead was built around the staples of the Earth Force Navy, the Hyperion class Heavy Cruiser along with it's half sister the Hecate Battlecruiser. Alongside these capital ships were an assortmaent of Firgates and Corvettes along with a pair of Carrier task forces to provide integrated air cover in the form of Starfury wings, including a pair of still quite rare Nova Fury squadrons.

Even without the Dreadnoughts Thornhill was confident in her ships and their ability to handle any Dilgar threat, and she had every right to be The Cruiser classes of Earth Force had proven a worthy match for the heaviest Dilgar ships and with a core of thirty such vessels plus a dozen Wolf packs of the lethal rail gunned armed Artemis Frigates she was quite capable of mauling all but the largest Dilgar fleets.

As it turned out the Dilgar Garrison at N'Chak'Fah was sizeable enough to provide a juicy target, but no so big as to be a major risk.

"I'd call that a target of opportunity, wouldn't you Commander?"

From his station in front and to the right Lieutenant Commander Jason Sterns nodded in agreement. "Yes Ma'am, I'm picking up about a hundred ships, mostly smaller vessels. They're altering formation."

"Jam their transmissions." Thornhill ordered. "We'll move to encircle them, keep them from running."

Under orders the human forces began to move apart, separating into mixed battle groups of cruisers and corvettes while the Carriers hung back and the Wolf packs surged forward. Unlike the recent major fleet battles where the Earth fleet adopted a fairly traditional three dimensional wall in space, Thornhill was using a more balanced and adaptable mix of task forces where each unit could act individually or form up on its neighbours to take on bigger enemy concentrations.

"The fleet is responding, moving to engage." Sterns reported. "Power surge from the Dilgar ships."

"Standby interceptors, bow batteries fire when we make it into range."

The fleet went on high alert, the gunners locked their eyes on their displays perched on the edge of action, ready to send their slaved cannons into fiery life at the merest hint of enemy action. Computer systems ran the interceptor targeting grid far faster than any simple human nervous system could match, everything was poised, placed and prepared for Earth's next battle in the war.

The Dilgar on the other hand were not.

At even medium ranges Earth Force sensors couldn't really tell what the Dilgar were doing, they could pick up the power build up in the enemy vessels but couldn't tell exactly which system was getting ready to do something.The logical conclusion was that the Dilgar were preparing to fight as they had in every encounter thus far, but it seemed the alien race wasn't through with surprises yet.

"Sensors showing some fluctuating energy patterns." Sterns warned. "Jump points."

Thornhill cursed. "All vessels prepare for additional enemy ships, fire when ready. Commander, location?"

"Looking at these readings Admiral, I'd say they were outgoing."

Sure enough the Dilgar ships began disappearing from the tactical plot, leaping into hyperspace still well outside Earth Force weapons range. The human fleet hadn't even finished its deployment by the time the last Dilgar vessel cleared out of the system.

"There they go." Sterns said with some hint of surprise and even mild disappointment.

"Did they leave anything behind?"

"Not that the sensors can see."

Thornhill nodded cautiously, running through the best options. "Keep us on course, we'll survey the area and set up a perimeter. If they really have gone then I suppose we can accelerate our schedule and liberate this world right now."

"I've never heard of Dilgar running from a fight Admiral."

Thornhill had to agree with that, they had made some tactical retreats but usually at least tried to fire a few shots in the process as a way to save some face and keep their pride intact. This particular fleet hadn't even bothered with that.

The withdrawal was in good order, quick and clean." She considered. "Not like we scared them and they just ran, they probably had orders from somewhere higher up to leave."

"Looks like we made an impression." Sterns grinned slightly. "I'm reading some transmissions from the planet."

"Probably wondering why the Dilgar left. Can we run it through the translator and reply?"

"We don't have anything on the native Gaim language, beside a few comments from the League we've never had a ship out here before." Sterns replied. "Guess this is first contact."

"They should be able to understand Abbai." Thornhill said. "Run this through and transmit. This is the Earth Alliance Cruiser Lexington, As of this time we are pleased to inform you the Dilgar have withdrawn from this sector. You are free, and Earth Alliance sends its greetings to your brave and stalwart people."

"Translating now."

"Then get a message to Markab, we have our diplomatic team there." Thornhill said. "I'm sure they'll be eager to come and say hello to these guys."

The Earth Force fleet slowed down and began to take up guard positions, Starfuries scouting while the warships settled near the planet facing outwards, just in case the Dilgar were about to play one of their tricks and jump back in when the fleet let its guard down.

"That's three down." Thornhill remarked "One step closer to Omelos."

Sterns nodded in agreement, much as he wanted to celebrate he found the situation a little disconcerting. If the Dilgar ran it meant they were conserving their strength, which in turn meant they were planning something that needed intact fleets. Earth Force Command was going to have fun figuring that one out, but whatever they were doing it was bound to be unpleasant.

Omelos

Jha'dur was a little disappointed that her flagship, the eponymous Dreadnought Deathwalker was still undergoing repairs. Earth Force had done it serious damage to the point where it could only maintain basic life support and gravity over half its decks. It's engines were wrecked, main reactor fractured and its weapons fused to the outer hull. However the technicians had managed to restore her research deck including the nightmare that was Lab Nine. They had called it a personal gift to the Warmaster, knowing her proclivities and need for a secure research facility.

Unfortunately for her, and perhaps very luckily for her subjects, the previous occupants of Lab Nine had been killed by the Earth Force attack, an act of mercy from the universe she decided. It was a shame, she had many rare specimens imprisoned there and her latest formulas but nothing that couldn't be duplicated. Her equipment was repaired or replaced and already she had a new patient strapped to a wall awaiting her attentions.

That brought a wicked smile to her lips, the thought of Len'char in pain never ceased to brighten her mood despite the uncounted sorrows heaped on her brow these last weeks. She had lost ships, crews, allies, whole worlds but far more than any of these she had lost her brother. And for that she was going to thank Len'char personally. For months. His first screams had been a delight, and her icy blade had barely touched him making the shallowest of cuts to take blood and tissue samples so she could devise the purest of tortures. Having him was a grand opportunity and she intended to make sure what she did to him was going to be a masterpiece of pain and suffering.

Given time she'd bring the lab up to its former grisly glory with her small team of experts working day and night in the chilly factory of death working on their assignments. Their work had yielded more information as she picked up similarities between the races she conquered, similarities that should not exist. There was a pattern there, something artificially created that wasn't natural and she sensed she was close to finding out what it was. Later she was scheduled to take apart the minds of several telepaths acquired from different races, something she really looked forward to.

In part it was like nothing had really changed, she could still delight in a job well done, still savour the scientific discoveries she would make and still look with confidence on the new strategy she was formulating to grind down the human fleets. Yet while she felt these things in anticipation, once they were done she felt no satisfaction, just a continued emptiness and a need to fill up that void with something.

She had imagined that having Len'char in Lab Nine would be exquisite, especially given his recent actions. It should have been the perfect revenge, something any Dilgar would rejoice in but Jha'dur in particular, and while she had long term plans for the feckless Warmaster ultimately she had felt nothing as she parted the flesh on his arm with much resistance, choosing a rather blunt blade for the first blood. It hadn't triggered any great response, just a clinical overview as she avoided arteries and later cauterised the wound. There was no emotion, just detachment.

That bothered her, and deep down she knew the reason why, she just couldn't dwell on it or ultimately accept it. Learning of Sha'dur's death had broken her physically and mentally, she could handle a lot of things but not that. She could watch worlds burn, fleets break and live in the knowledge two thirds or more of all Dilgar lives were going to die no matter what she did. That she could deal with scarily well, but the loss of that one close life had been too much. Simply put she didn't care about those people, those worlds and civilizations including her own. They had done nothing for her so she owed them noting in return. But her brother, that was different. She had cared about him to the point where almost her entire emotional well being was tied up with him. When he died, those emotions went with him.

She could feel it like a hollow wound somewhere in her chest, a void that refused to go away no matter what she did. The things that had once filled her with pride or had her trembling in excitement were like nothing now, just every day experiences that seemed without point or value.

She didn't find herself caring if Omelos lived or died, or if her race lived on. She was dangerously close to slipping into a deep depression and if that happened she knew she'd never get out again. Her world needed her more than ever and she simply couldn't care less. But to keep herself alive she needed goals to focus on, to keep her thoughts focused ahead and not within and in that respect she had set herself three simple targets.

First she would save Gar'shan. With her other family dead the Supreme Warmaster was the last person she owed. His elder son was her lover and now the only person she could really trust, and his younger son Ari'shan remained a trusted friend and reliable ally. But Gar'shan himself, if she could save him it might make up a little for not saving her brother.

The second was immortality, the scientific pinnacle of her career. She knew she was close, the formulas she had made recently had proven able to heal wounds faster and prolong health energy. It wasn't a total freeze but it was slowing down the aging process, she was nearly there.

Third, and perhaps hardest of all, she had to beat Earth Force in battle. To that end she had two plans, a long term build up of forces and capabilities and a second much shorter and riskier plan. Se had the resources to try both and would put into effect Plan B later today after she saw the Council.

The Warmaster stared from her shuttle window, a journey she had made from orbit to land several times in the past. With her flagship still out of action she had been forced to borrow a cruiser from the Mitoc garrison which had however been much faster than her heavier warship and brought her to Omelos quite quickly, which in the end suited her needs. She had used Len'char's security pass to call an immediate Council meeting, so far no one knew of her miraculous recovery and she was planning to savour the surprise, though deep down she doubted her new emptiness would truly enjoy what should be a moment of triumph.

"Sekhmet class." She noted as the shuttle passed by one of the orbital shipyards, a massive spider web of metal frames and scaffolds. "I thought I told the Council not to build more of those wasteful toys?"

Her pilot said absolutely nothing, just shrugged nervously.

The Shuttle passed below the assembly line, sparks glowing brightly for a few instants before the vacuum snuffed them out. The Shipyards were extremely busy with every slip holding a vessel, and a few having ships parked precariously along side. It was one of hundreds of similar yards scattered across the Home system, Alaca and Balos feeding the industry of war. Yet even at full production they wouldn't replace her losses before the humans came knocking on her door. Unless of course she could slow them down first.

"Twenty of them." She counted as they began re-entry. "Do you know how many Dreadnoughts or heavy cruisers we could have had for that amount of resources? I feel an execution coming on."

Gone were the days when she'd enjoy that, but she could still appreciate the terror it caused in others, and right now terror was her main tool.

The shuttle clipped through the air with customary speed, this time without a showy fighter escort and no crowds to greet her with cheers and parades. This was low key, and while news of her defeats was been suppressed expertly to keep up morale there were enough rumours to disquiet the populace. Returning servicemen told of the massive casualties they had seen, of rank after rank of ships that barely made it home ripped stem to stern by high energy weapons or solid shot. Of carriers returning with one or two fighters where once stood four full squadrons. Of whole armies being written off as lost in a single week of fighting. Nothing was confirmed, but people believed.

Perhaps once Jha'dur would have wished to use propaganda to cover up the truth, to keep the people believing the war was going as well as ever and the superiority of the Dilgar race assured victory. Not anymore. Later on she would make a public announcement telling the truth, which would also serve to quash rumours of her early demise. While the cult of personality that had grown around her was more amusing than anything else, Jha'dur appreciated it was a powerful tool when wielded correctly. The mob was never to be taken lightly, even Len'char had figured that one out.

There was a film of grime on the open stone courtyard behind the Council building, the landing thrusters had blown some of the sticky black dust into a blossoming pattern like a starburst or perhaps more aptly a nuclear detonation. Jha'dur's eye lingered on it a second, her mind echoing to panicked distress calls and crashing hull plates as she recalled the barrage which almost killed her. She shut her eyes, forcing the clamour from her mind before returning to a calm and controlled state. Only then did she step off the shuttle ramp and walk to the building leaving booted footprints in her wake.

The air was unpleasant to breathe, after the clear crispness of Mitoc it was like drawing nothing but fumes into her lungs, which was oddly similar to the truth. The city was bathed in a choking cloud of dark smog, an unhealthy mixture of noxious gases and exhausts mixing with the natural mists and fog of the early morning. The sun had risen but was an indiscernible patch of brightness amidst the cloying and suffocating air, as faded and distant as her hope.

The root cause of all this was of course the industry of war. Omelos had long been a polluted world, ever since the industrialisation of war the Dilgar had fed the furnaces with whatever resources were required to create new weapons and munitions. It was perhaps one of the great advantages of the Dilgar race, the mass production of death on such a scale and had given them many victories.

Unfortunately they had now found a race who appreciated the concepts of industrial war and mass produced weapons. Human ships were not the crafted icons of firepower that served the Hyach nor the Brakiri warships constructed to show the prowess of various corporations. Human ships were built to destroy enemy units with as little fuss and ceremony as possible, and to do it on a huge scale. Jha'dur had always considered her warships the perfect balance between cost and capability, then she had seen the Nova class Dreadnought.

The humans had reset the bar for brutal simplicity. Where a Dilgar ship still had a curved hull to try and deflect incoming rounds the Humans tended to use simple thick slabs of metal without the expensive and time consuming process of bending and casting hull plates. She had no doubt the ludicrously obvious designs were quicker to build than her own equivalent design the Mishakur class, and were a world ahead in terms of firepower and protection.

But like all vessels they had a weakness, and after a period of contemplation Jha'dur found the obvious answer. Weight, or more accurately mass. Easily made as they were the Nova class was a monster of a ship and demanded vast amounts of raw materials to construct, by Jha'dur's guess at least twice as much as a Dilgar Dreadnought. Normally that would be great news, it meant Jha'dur could field two Dreadnoughts to every one Earth could put into action, but in the long run it wouldn't work out that way.

It was industry, the same asset that polluted the sky of Omelos was also going to doom it. On an equal basis Jha'dur could make more ships than Earth, but the Dilgar were not on an equal basis to Earth. While Jha'dur accepted there was a lot about the Earth Alliance she didn't know what she did understand was that this was no back water power on a par with the average League race. The humans had access to resources the Dilgar didn't, an established infrastructure of mines and refineries feeding the ship building efforts of the Alliance.

Sitting quietly behind their borders Earth had been creating a massive network of shipping lanes, naval yards, factories and all the other facilities needed to wage war. They didn't have to, they weren't actually fighting anyone, it was all just a precaution. That was the concept that had initially thrown Jha'dur, the idea that humans would invest billions if not trillions of credits into creating a fleet of war without actually being at war. The Dilgar fleet existed to invade others, most League races had small protective forces built to fight skirmishes, the Narn and Centauri had fleets to face each other, but nobody went and built a vastly expensive navy for no immediate reason.

Except Earth. A few weeks ago she would have shuddered at the thought, felt a chill at the concept of a race that treat its military preparedness so seriously that they had a standing fleet superior in numbers and capabilities to half the League. Now she just laughed, nothing shocked her and given what she had seen of how intense humanity was in open battle it was perfectly understandable that they would invest so massively in defence.

Humans understood the basic concept of the galaxy, and that was that weak people die. Even if they weren't at war now one day they inevitably would be, so they prepared unlike every one else. They were her anti-thesis, the one race in the galaxy who seemed to have been born for the sole purpose of fighting the Dilgar and beating them. She had plans to fight Centauri, Narn, League, anyone in the galaxy except for a race like this. They were everything the Dilgar were but more, better, and stronger.

That acceptance that the Dilgar were no longer the best military in the galaxy was step one in saving themselves. With the delusions eliminated from her mind she could now move on to step two.

She walked up the stone steps to the Council building, by now they would be in session and waiting for Len'char to arrive. She smiled a little at that, a smile of malicious cruelty without a hint of joy to it. The sentries at the door snapped to attention, their black dress uniforms as crisp as their salute. Jha'dur returned the welcome with her gloved hand, then stepped out of the dead air and into the immaculate halls of power.

She dusted off some of the residue from her uniform, even a few minutes outside had been enough to dirty her clothing and no doubt her lungs too. At one stage the Council had enforced strict environmental laws to try and preserve their dwindling natural resources, but that was a lifetime ago. Omelos was dead no matter what, no one in power cared about polluting the air anymore now, all they wanted were weapons and fuel at maximum speed and efficiency. Nothing else mattered, and while it pained Jha'dur to see her home choking like this she agreed with them fully.

Confidently she walked across the stone floor, her heels clicking and echoing in the hard chamber. The walls were adorned with pictures, paintings of past wars and glories, the roof hung with war torn battle flags and totems. Many of the most priceless artefacts were already packed in crates ready to be shipped away, that transfer now postponed until the human advance was checked. The museums of Omelos were packed with relics of bygone ages, but the halls of power held the most notable and inspiring.

She walked down the corridor leading to the Council chambers, walking beneath the banner of Corol'as, first Emperor of the Prime Dilgar and Father of the nation. In those days the Emperor had absolute power, now it resided with the Warmasters. Once in a while there was a strong Emperor, sometimes even a smart one, but as a rule the Warmasters made law. She touched the tattered black flag as she walked under it, feeling the thinned and age frayed fabric that had fluttered behind the Emperor as he razed cities with cannon and massed musketry. She knew Ari'shan longed for those days, but for Jha'dur the current age was the best, a time of scientific discovery unparalleled in history.

On both sides the walls held paintings, starting with the earliest recorded victory of her people progressing right down to a depiction of the battle of Brakir, the most recent victory they had time to paint. She wondered if they would have time to paint another, or indeed if there would actually be another for them to paint.

The doors loomed above her, dark and imposing, taken whole from the last fortress that had opposed Emperor Corol'as five centuries earlier and installed in this building as a reminder of the power of the Prime Dilgar. Where once kings and knights had passed now so too did she, pushing open the heavy doors and stepping into the Council chamber.

Utter silence met her as she walked confidently into the chamber, the familiar circular table seating four Warmasters with a video screen showing the image of Dar'sen still out on the Drazi Front. The seated council members stared aghast as she sat down in her place as normal and simply as if she were settling down for dinner before waiting for the guards to close the ancient doors and allow the meeting to begin.

"I…" Warmaster Sen'la stuttered. "We… thought you were dead."

"I was." Jha'dur replied simply. "I'm feeling much better now."

She took her place at the table, both ignoring yet drinking in the stares she was receiving. It was good to be the centre of attention, her vanity demanded it.

"Good to see you well Dar'sen." She addressed. "How are things with the Drazi?"

"Not bad." The older officer clearly pleased to see her and no doubt amused by the rest of the council. "We've had some low level skirmishes, nothing we can't handle."

"Have you engaged in any counterattacks?"

"None, we have orders to hold our position."

"I'm rescinding those at once." Jha'dur announced. "You may raid and strike at will, anything you deem necessary to maintain our position and prevent the Drazi exploiting our current weakness."

Sen'la, one of Len'char's compatriots coughed a little loudly from his place at the table.

Jha'dur turned her gaze to him with deliberate slowness calculated to create maximum discomfort. "You have a comment to pass on my orders Sen'la?"

He paused, perhaps considering his situation and the predator like stare he was receiving, but with the council looking on he could show no fear. "We should not send out raiding missions, it weakens our lines."

"I will let Dar'sen judge what does and does not weaken us." She replied in a reasonable tone. Keeping the Drazi off balance with raids and local counter attacks is vital to holding that front, the last time we left them alone they hit us with a massive offensive. You do remember that don't you?"

He nodded with a grunt.

"Good, now then, on to other business."

Jha'dur's mind was back to it's usual sharpness, and as she made her address she didn't need the notes and diagrams of the others.

"I have heard the Supreme Warmaster is comatose, what is being done?"

Her question was greeted with an awkward silence.

"I assume doctors are working around the clock to find a way to revive him?"

More silence greeted the remark.

"Well they are now." She said coldly. "I'm assigning my best researchers to get to the bottom of his condition and bring him out of it. And believe me, they will find me some answers."

"We have been doing everything to make him comfortable." Sen'la felt a need to state. "he is not in any pain."

"So he dies in peace, but he still dies." Jha'dur said calmly, though there was an undercurrent in her voice that caused a slight shiver in the other Warmaster. "He is the Supreme Warmaster, our leader and the best in decades. You owe him your allegiance and if called upon you should die for him. Simply letting him die comfortably is not good enough. You should have moved heaven and Earth to save him and from now on you will, or you'll answer to me."

"With respect Jha'dur," Warmaster Dru'tal spoke lazily, another of Len'char's partners. "Answer to you? Where do you claim this authority? We are all equal in the Council except for the Supreme Warmaster or his deputy."

"It is well known Gar'shan chose me to follow him when he passed."

"But the Council has already chosen a Deputy for the Supreme Warmaster, someone to exercise his executive powers during Gar'shan's incapacity." Dru'tal continued. "That would be Warmaster Len'char."

"Ahh yes, Len'char." A grin crossed Jha'dur's face. "I was told he was swinging his weight around."

"He called this meeting, shouldn't he be here?" Sen'la asked.

"Actually I called it using his authorisation." Jha'dur said. "He signed all his powers over to me."

Dru'tal actually laughed. "Len'char gave you, you of all people Jha'dur, his Warmaster authority?"

"You'd have to skin him alive to get him to agree to that!" Sen'la joined the laughter.

Jha'dur let them chuckle for a few seconds. "Actually I only had to flay one hand before he begged me to take his power."

Sen'la kept laughing, but Dru'tal felt realisation dawn on him. "Oh gods, you did too didn't you?"

Jha'dur produced a folded sheet of paper and threw it before Dru'tal. "You'll find Len'char's signature on there, it's all legally binding."

Sen'la finally stopped laughing.

"If this was signed under duress, there's no way it…"

"Shut up Dru'tal." Jha'dur said pleasantly. "If you want to debate the legality of this document I have a room for you in Lab Nine, if you want to live you will sit there and do whatever I say. Do you understand?"

He grunted in acknowledgement.

Jha'dur suddenly slammed both hands on the table and shot to her feet. "I asked a question!" she bellowed. "Do you understand?"

"Yes Warmaster." Dru'tal said more clearly. "I understand, and obey."

The thunderous look on her face passed like a fleeting cloud. "Good." She smiled and sat down. "So just to clarify, I will cast Len'char's vote for him, and Gar'shan's, and I will hold his executive power until he returns. And he will return." She looked to the empty seat beside her, the one her brother had once sat. "this place will remain empty until I find someone fit to take Sha'dur's place."

Sen'la frowned, and Jha'dur knew what he was about to say and cut him off.

"Par'nan as I understand was appointed by Len'char to fill that space." She stated. "Unfortunately he lacks one vital characteristic required by all Warmasters."

"And that is?"

"A head."

For the first time in quite a while Jha'dur was having a little fun.

"So, the next subject." She pressed on, ignoring the horrified looks of the Council seated before her. "Construction."

"You killed Par'nan?" Sen'la asked incredulously. "You killed a Warmaster…and tortured Len'char?"

"Yes, you're point?"

Sen'la didn't really have anything else to say. "No point Warmaster. Just curious."

"Good, you'll find things are going to change a little around here." Jha'dur stated plainly. "We don't have the luxury of debate and prevarication, in case you failed to notice we are losing this war and losing badly."

"We still control almost all of the League Warmaster." Yor'lothan, a more neutral member of the Council stated.

"Which means nothing if we can't hold it, and simply put we can't." Jha'dur outlined. "We don't have the numbers or fixed defences to hold every planet, especially with the Forces Earth is throwing at us. Therefore I have issued standing orders for all ships and forces to abandon their posts when confronted by a Human fleet."

"To give up all we have fought and bled for?" Yor'lothan accused.

"In a heartbeat and without regret." Jha'dur replied. "The League has no fleets to match us, we can stroll back into their space whenever we wish, after the humans are gone. But until then we don't give battle unless I order it in person."

"Even Mitoc?"

"No, not Mitoc. There we have the defences to fight them." Jha'dur nodded. "If we keep avoiding battle it will force Earth to eventually seek us out. I know humans, they want to battle us, they seek it with the same vigour and relish we do. The humans understand warfare Yor'lothan, they know the victor is not the one with the most territory or the most victories, but the one who is best at killing. Right now they can kill us far easier than we can kill them, so I want to wait until we can tip things more in our favour which brings me back to my earlier point. Construction. Sen'la?"

This had not been a good day for Sen'la. He appreciated that he would never be Supreme Warmaster and that his place on the Council was bought by his connections in finance and industry but was happy simply to make Money and bask in some power. He allied with Len'char, a man who would give him his dream simply for voting with him and Sen'la would never have to actually work for a living.

Now not only was he expected to work, he was going to have to somehow perform miracles for the Dilgar Warmachine and if he didn't he was going to have to answer to the deranged woman who had murdered his associate and was torturing his former leader.

"Construction is… good." He managed.

"Good?" Jha'dur raised an eyebrow. "Do better Sen'la."

"Well, er, our production is on schedule, Shipyards are at capacity and working around the clock."

"Better report." Jha'dur nodded curtly. "Munitions?"

"Again at full capacity. The factories here on Omelos and at Alaca are making weapons and fuel precisely on schedule."

"Much better. Quick overview of facilities as of this morning?"

"We have major shipyards at Omelos, Balos and Alaca had full capacity, Munitions factories here and on Alaca at full capacity, Armoured vehicle factories here working, and fighter factories on Tirrith and again here on Omelos all at capacity."

"I'm actually a little surprised you knew all that." Jha'dur admitted. "Well done, now you're going to do your job and increase production."

"Well we are at capacity Warmaster, there isn't much more…"

"It takes us twelve months to build a Dreadnought, you will find a way to build one in Six."

Sen'la couldn't find a way to answer that rationally. "it can't be done."

"Anything can be done with the correct motivation. Do you know what I will do to motivate you? Care to guess? Len'char knows."

The other Warmaster felt his throat dry out. "please, if there was a way I…"

"Try increased slave labour." Jha'dur said. "More slaves working all hours. Put them in the ship yards if you have to."

"Slaves building our ships?" Dru'tal winced. "That's a job solely for Dilgar labourers. Slaves could sabotage the construction process."

"If they do kill the one responsible and fifty random slaves." Jha'dur dismissed. "In fact kill fifty a week anyway and blame saboteurs, real or not, and make them fear to try sabotage in the first place."

"Their quality of work will be low."

"If it flies and shoots for just one battle it is enough." She answered. "Earth can out build us, they can easily replace the few losses we've inflicted on them with superior ships. We're at full capacity and still so far behind that if we don't fill our ranks this war is over."

"We're going to have a high turnover. Weeks, maybe days for the average slave."

"Plenty more where they came from." Jha'dur stated bluntly. "We can replace all our losses so far in six months, if we double production and don't get into anymore one sided battles."

"In six months Jha'dur, we might not have an Imperium." Dar'sen spoke. "We need to slow the humans down."

"I am working on it old friend." She answered. "Our intelligence has located the main human supply lines and a route into Earth Alliance space. When the meeting is done I will be meeting some officers to create a raiding force."

"Even if we hurt their supply lines, they won't stop. They'll still keep moving." Dar'sen warned. "One day we will have to face them."

"If we can keep them busy for six months, buy time to rebuild and retrain, then I'll be glad to meet them in battle." Jha'dur announced confidently. "We thought we were invincible, but we were not. Now people think humans are invincible, but I will show them otherwise. Whatever it takes we need time, trade space for time, if necessary trade lives for time. We can't face them yet. But soon we will."

She looked back at Sen'la. "Sekhmet class."

"Yes Warmaster?"

"How long until they are done?"

"The two prototypes will be ready in a month, the other Eighteen in about ten months."

"Not anymore, get the first two ready to fly in two weeks, when I leave they will follow me to Mitoc. The others will be ready in six months time to form part of our new reborn fleet."

Sen'la had nothing to say that would help him, so he fell back on tradition. "Yes Warmaster."

"They're in process now and it would be a shame to waste them. But I want no more of them built until after the war, focus on simple efficient designs. I have experts working on ways to cut down on existing designs to make them faster and easier to build."

"Our ships are already very basic." Yor'lothan cautioned.

"They are about to get simpler." Jha'dur said. "thinner armour, less quality metal, but more powerful guns. We can't design a ship to fight humans before they are on our doorstep, so we work with what we've got."

"Earth Force will slice them to pieces."

"I estimate we need a three to one ratio to win. We can lose more than they can provided we kill one of them for every three of ours." She said clinically. "We dodn't even have to destroy the human ships, just inflict heavy damage and force them home. They'll be out of action for months. We only need local superiority for a few weeks to achieve our goals and force an armistice."

"Armistice?" Dru'tal flinched in surprise. "You want a negotiated peace with Earth?"

"Much as I'd prefer to bomb them to hell, realistically this is our best hope. Don't worry, the day will come when we rise to power, but our star will not last much longer and we must look to the long term."

"So we fight Earth to a stand still, destroy their ability to wage war beyond their borders, then let them sue for peace rather than face an attack by us over their borders?" Dar'sen stated for clarity.

"That is the new strategy." Jha'dur confirmed. "At a time and place of my choosing we will gather our strength and hit Earth hard. Harder than any power to date, the biggest battle in history."

"And that battle decides the war." Dar'sen mused. "One massive clash of arms."

"And I will lead it." Deathwalker spoke sombrely. "For all our people living and dead, I will give Earth the great battle they crave and make them regret it. That is the task now of this council, to make us ready. Humans have taught me that preparing for war is as important as the act itself, and you may win or lose before a single shot is fired. Our preparations were enough for the League, but not for Earth. That changes today. You will return to your commands, increase production, speed up recruitment and let the people know I am here to lead them."

Jha'dur stood and looked at the council.

"From today, I rule the Dilgar Imperium,."

She still felt no pride or joy, just a resolve to do the task she had been entrusted to do. The ghosts of her kin were watching, she would not fail.

N'Chak'Fah

Several days later

Captain Robert Lefcourt gave in to a viciously cold smile. "Now I've got you. You sneaky son of a bitch."

The Naval Officer felt the impending victory, he had every advantage, fate had thrown him all he could have asked for, all he had to do was reach out and grasp the win. "No way out."

With a flourish he laid out the hand of cards on the magnetised desk, their foil insert gripping them flat in the zero gravity of his quarters. "Four jack's and a ten."

His opponent nodded slowly, an impressed and grudging look on his face. "Damn, that's pretty lucky Bob."

"So shall we schedule another bout for tomorrow?"

"But we haven't finished this one yet."

Lefcourt gave a bark of a laugh. "Fine, go with the formality, what did you have?"

The man opposite put down his own cards. "That's four aces and a Queen."

Lefcourt said nothing for what might have been an hour, but was in fact four seconds.

"No way."

"Well actually, that's 'yes' way." The other man picked up his winnings. "And tomorrow sounds fine Bob."

"How? I mean just how? No one is that lucky!"

"You never heard of the Sheridan family lucky streak did you?" The affable man opposite offered a sympathetic laugh. "You know most of the time my cards are worse than yours, I just know how to bluff."

"So I guess you've been hustling me all along huh?" The Captain grunted, annoyed but not in a malevolent way.

"I'm not a hustler, I'm a diplomat." The besuited man answered with mock indignation. "It's like a hustler but with a whole lot more class. Oh, and bigger stakes."

David Sheridan pocketed the credit chips, about four hundred thousand credits worth though obviously he'd never expect Lefcourt to actually pay him that amount. It was a running joke among the select few members of Sheridan's poker circle that they had won and lost more money than the Earth Alliance Treasury in their games. It was basically just good fun, though from Sheridans perspective it made good practice for the game of diplomacy.

He hadn't been entirely joking with Lefcourt, he was a little bit of a hustler trying to get people to accept what they didn't want, only for Sheridan he wasn't selling insurance or used cars but border lines and mining rights worth trillions. At least that's how he had started, aiding senior diplomats and eventually taking centre stage himself, but in recent months the stakes had grown exponentially as Earth found itself at war with the Dilgar. Now it wasn't mining rights, but the fates of tens of billions of lives that could be saved or lost with just one wrong word. High stakes indeed.

At least Sheridan had a lot of experience to draw from, his stewardship under the guidance of Foreign Minister Sir Richard Grenville had been the best on the job training he could hope for. He knew more tricks, sleights and sucker moves than anyone had a right to understand. He could set verbal traps, lure opponents into spilling their most guarded knowledge and in return allow nothing to slip past his own carefully modulated surface. He was every opposing negotiators worst nightmare, and as a helpful side effect the best Poker player in the government, maybe even in the Alliance.

In his youth he might have tried his hand in the big stakes Poker games, the sort broadcast on the net and watched on a dozen worlds. He had the skill to be sure, but in reality he found that lifestyle empty. He didn't get a thrill from beating someone at cards, he didn't want to own millions and millions of credits. He was happy where he was, content in his life, his Farm, his wife, son and daughter. Sheridan was just a happy man.

That was probably why he was so good at his job. He had nothing for an opponent to work on, no insecurities to exploit, no failings to highlight. He didn't want wealth so bribes were useless. He didn't want power or fame, he didn't want to rule a planet or command armadas. The only thing he wanted was to create a better world for his children, and he did that by making sure Earth was strong in the field of Galactic Diplomacy. Naturally his job was made easier by people like Lefcourt backing up his words with a battery of heavy plasma cannons and showing Earth could deliver on its promises economically and militarily. But still, diplomacy was never easy.

Today however promised to be a little easier than most for Earth's efforts to add strength to its battle with the Dilgar. Sheridan was on a mission of Alliance building, his brief was simply to make contact with the Gaim and see what they had to aid the growing alliance of League worlds siding with Earth. So far they had the Vree and Markab on their side, who promised to be extremely useful in coming campaigns, and the Descari who were eager to join the fight but sadly lacked any decent military forces. The Dilgar had been most thorough when decimating their combat power.

Initial scans from Admiral Thornhill had shown the same, and according to Ambassador Itala who was joining Sheridan on this mission it seemed the Gaim didn't have a navy to start with anyway. The Earth Force liberation fleet had found plenty of wreckage which matched the composition of the Pak'Ma'Ra trading post known to by in this vicinity, plus a few tangled remnants of freighters to slow to avoid the Dilgar assault. The didn't stand a chance.

With no fleet, no orbital defences and no help Sheridan did not hold out much hope for finding anything useful on N'Chak'Fah. The Dilgar had used it for target practice, a place for crews to lean the brutal art of Mass Driver targeting and how best to perform nuclear saturation strikes. Thornhill had reported the planet was a hell scene, ruined and blasted by months of orbital strikes. Sheridan knew virtually nothing about this race, but that lack of knowledge didn't matter. He still pitied them for the ordeal they had endured at Dilgar hands.

"Well we better get topside." Lefcourt lifted out of the chair with the precise movements of someone who had done this all his life. He had the pale skin of a long term spacer, you could always spot them a mile away. The lack f a tan was an obvious if fairly inconsequential give away, of more concern was the long term effects of weightlessness on the human skeleton and musculature. Humans were meant to live on worlds with gravity, built to live with the force pulling down on them constantly and without that things gradually went wrong with people.

Without simulated gravity on their ships there was little Earth Force could do. All crew had to exercise thoroughly at the end of every shift and when they woke. It helped keep their muscles from wasting away and bones from leaching but it was still a stop gap solution. No crew member could be expected to serve for more than two months, three at most, without a stopover on a station or world with full gravity so their body could recover. It was one more limitation tied up in human technology but so far hadn't been an issue. The victorious crews had time to rest on Markab and Bestine, so when the next phase f the attack began they would be physically and mentally prepared for it. That time was near, and Sheridan had a deadline to meet.

He followed Lefcourt to the bridge deck nestled where the primary hull met the conning tower assembly and grabbed the back of the Captain's chair, Lefcourt himself fastening the belts to keep him fixed in the centre of the room.

"Jump gate sequence initiated." His navigator chorused. "Moving into the Gaim home system."

With the customary bump the Heavy Cruiser made the transition, Earth Force still hadn't found a way to make the process as smooth as an alien ship, but it got the job done, like most other systems on the human vessels.

"No enemy contacts." His First Officer stated. "The fleet is right where it should be, Admiral Thornhill on Gold Channel Two."

"Patch it through, then set condition two across the ship." Lefcourt ordered.

Sheridan moved to see the comms screen, no doubt the Admiral was expecting him.

"Captain Lefcourt, good to see you back safe." The rather thin face of Anne Thornhill welcomed. "Ambassador Sheridan I take it?"

"Yes Admiral, pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, though I've heard stories about you from General Denisov."

Sheridan's expression never faltered. "All good I hope?"

"He tells me you won fifteen Dreadnoughts from him at Poker." Thornhill chuckled. "Not quite sure how to take that, but he seemed to find it funny."

"Well he did better than the Director of the EIA, he owes me Proxima Colony."

The Admiral smiled a little wider. "Very good Ambassador, Captain Lefcourt plays a mean game, I'm sure he'll regain the honour of the Force."

Beside him Lefcourt went a little red. "Maybe some other time Admiral."

"Did you bring Ambassador Itala with you?" Thornhill returned to business.

"Yes Admiral, she's here and ready to introduce me to the Gaim."

"We received a message a few minutes ago, coordinates for the meeting." The Senior officer paused. "Still sure you want to go alone?"

"Absolutely Admiral."

"I've heard a lot about the Gaim, some pretty fearful things from league traders in my years out here." She noted. "I can send a full Marine detachment with you and keep a couple of rail guns aimed their way."

"I appreciate it Admiral, but I don't think it's the message we need to send. Trustworthy or not we have to take the first step, offer them an open hand."

"Just so long as they don't eat it." Thornhill grimaced. "Very well Ambassador, make the landing anytime you like, good luck and God speed."

The message ended, leaving a slightly concerned Lefcourt.

"I'll be taking that shuttle then Bob."

"Bit like walking into an Ant's nest down there." Lefcourt said with no relish. "Still sure you wouldn't rather do this over video?"

"You can't beat face to face." Sheridan shook his head. "One act of trust goes a lot further than a million words. I'll go find Itala, then we better get a move on, I don't want to keep them waiting. Just in case they are getting hungry."

Within ten minutes the Earth Force shuttle was ploughing through the air, wing tips and thrust vectoring vanes leaving twists and twirls in the greenish yellow clouds of the planet. The air was an unwelcoming mix of methane and other noxious gases. Even if Sheridan could have breathed the mix the smell would have been unspeakable. N'Chak'Fah was the worst posting in the League, its Council building while air tight and filled with a basic oxygen atmosphere mix still stunk of the outside air. It was where diplomats who had really screwed up got sent until they retired quietly.

"Like flying through Pea Soup." The Pilot reported with undue cheerfulness. "I reckon visibility is down to about forty."

"Forty miles?" Sheridan asked.

"Miles?" The pilot laughed. "Inches mate!"

Sheridan need not have worried, the various sensors made the shuttle apply to virtually flight itself, but Itala seemed slightly more nervous strapped into her seat uncomfortably opposite the human diplomat.

"Ever been here before?" He asked to try and distract her from the rough descent.

"Just in passing, and never to the surface." Itala answered, apparently fighting the urge to be very sick.

"First time for both of us then." Sheridan smiled, the gesture not really working. "What can you tell me about the Gaim?"

Itala held her breath for a moment as the ship bounced on an updraft, then recovered enough to speak.

"They're insects, six legs, thorax, abdomen, head. Fairly common, you see similar creatures on many worlds but rather smaller."

"We've got something similar on Earth, we call them Ants. Maybe Termites are a better example."

"You should see what they have on Brakir, some sort of desert dwelling burowers. As big as your hand." Itala shuddered. "We don't get creatures like that on Sshumsha, I hate to admit it but I'm not a fan of things that creep and crawl."

Sheridan laughed. "Not the best mission for you then!"

"No, but like you I have a job to do." Itala reluctantly admitted. "The Gaim are ruled by Queens, there are less than a dozen of them scattered around the planet. Nobody has ever seen one, but I've heard they are the size of a large building. They create new Gaim at a massive rate, manipulating the eggs at a genetic level to produce whatever they need. Drones, Workers, Technicians, and of course Warriors. After First Contact they made a new species, an Ambassador breed that is mostly humanoid and bipedal because most of the galaxy seems to follow that pattern. Lets them fit in better."

"So the individual we'll meet will have two arms and two legs?" Sheridan asked.

"Yes, he will have been selected to speak for all the Queens, and somehow has a telepathic link to them. Whatever you say, they will hear and reply through this ambassador."

The shuttle slowed, its sensors warning it of the impending arrival of the ground and their destination. Outside the visibility was no better, but according to the orbital scans there was nothing to see except craters and rocky deserts.

"We'll be down in thirty seconds!" The Pilot called back. "I'd start hooking up those breathers now!"

Sheridan reached up to the overhead locker and opened it, retrieving two simple face masks with their own integral oxygen supply. The atmosphere was poisonous to humans or Abbai, requiring Itala to also use one of the Earth made respirators, but the pressure was normal so they did not need a full environmental suit.

"Any last minute protocols I should know about?" Sheridan checked.

"I don't think so." Itala shook her head. "Just make sure what you say is an offer, not a demand. The Gaim have been hit hard by the Dilgar and the Narn before them, they will be wary around you."

"Humanity is here to help them."

"Make sure they know that." Itala stated firmly. "They will need to know."

The shuttle bumped down, its gear compressing at it took the weight of the craft on its wheels. The engines went into idle mode, still holding on standby in case there was a need for a hasty escape. It paid to be cautious given the reputation the Gaim had.

"That's it, dropping the ramp." The pilot said. "You need a side arm?"

"No, I'll be fine." Sheridan replied, though honestly what good a handgun would do on a planet of Gaim escaped him. "Stay in here, and stay in touch with the fleet."

"Don't need to tell me twice. Good luck."

The ramp crunched into the hard ground, parting gravel and stones at its end and allowing the repellent atmosphere into the craft. Sheridan felt his skin crawl a little, the sensation of the thick gases cloying and more than a little uncomfortable. He doubted he'd ever get the residual smell out of his plain brown suit.

The ground was rough beneath his feet, forcing him to concentrate on keeping his balance as he ducked under the shuttles wing and moved into the open area beside it. He could see perhaps a couple of dozen yards into the thick air before everything became an indistinct yellow and green with a brown and grey assortment of rocks upon the ground.

"Amazing to believe life thrives here." Itala carefully walked up beside him, her voice slightly muffled by the mask and electronic projector it used to transfer her words. "Such wonders created by the universe, such prosperity in adversity."

"It looks like a desert." Sheridan replied. "The Dilgar?"

"The Gaim." Itala said sadly. "Our scans of this world made many years ago showed evidence that once this world teemed with life, trees and animals, plants and flowers, all the life forms of our worlds but adapted to live here in this atmosphere. What destroyed the ecosystem was over population, too many Gaim and too few resources."

Sheridan shook his head. "I'm sure many worlds faced the same problem, Earth once did. In some ways we still do."

"But the Gaim did not react in time, did not perceive the problem." Itala continued. "They reproduce in vast numbers, each Queen is producing tens of thousands of new creatures every day, and at one time there were hundreds of queens. They stripped the planet bare, then turned on each other."

"Another lesson from history."

"You can't imagine the scale of the war that followed, the Gaim never developed weapons of Mass Destruction as we know them, or technology at all for that matter, just intense biological and genetic science. All their combat was hand to hand, well claw to claw." Itala shrugged. "Hundreds of millions, maybe billions of Gaim slicing and eviscerating one another, taking the corpses for food. It's unthinkable."

There was a movement in the distance, a darker patch in the clouds that caught Sheridan's eye, but not apparently Itala's.

"They would have destroyed each other, but then the Narn came and showed them a world above the clouds. They opened first contact by using nuclear weapons and landing troops."

"I heard about that." Sheridan kept watching for the movement again. "Didn't go well for the Narns did it?"

"Hundreds of millions of genetically engineered utterly fearless monsters of war?" Itala considered. "It was a slaughter on both sides, but the Gaim could afford it and the Narn couldn't. they called it a waste of time and left. Then we arrived, the League offered friendship and trade. Gaim medicine is the best in the Galaxy."

He spotted the movement again.

"Sorry to interrupt Ambassador, but I think we have some company."

The movement of light and dark had grown more pronounced and now murky shapes came forward, larger and broader than a man the resolved into their nightmarish forms, chilling Sheridan in spite of the balmy air. The first creature to step into full view was not entirely dissimilar to a Praying Mantis from Earth, just a little larger. Eight feet tall larger with razor sharp fore legs that looked like they could quite easily split a man in two regardless of body armour. It's thorax and abdomen were clad in thick armoured plates unlike its Earth bound cousin, black and shining with a slick surface perfected over thousands of generations to protect the warrior from acid, heat and physical attacks.

Its sharp and narrow feet flicked up stones as it advanced, relatively small head twitching from side to side as it sensed the air and regarded them with huge compound eyes. More of them crept from the dull air, skittering and chittering as they examined the odd metal ship and the two comparatively soft and weak creatures standing before it. The sight was incredibly intimidating, nothing about the Gaim warriors gathering around them was gentle or peaceful, they were living weapons with all the remorse and pity of a battle tank.

Suddenly they moved, parting ahead of Sheridan Itala and backing away left and right, clearing a space through to the clouds, an almost macabre guard of honour for the far smaller figure now emerging from the thick air. This time the figure had a human shape, all save for its head which was much like that of the other Gaim creatures but composed of softer skin and not the dense organic material of the warriors. It wore simple clothes and in its hand carried a metal frame Sheridan recognized as a translator to turn the clickings and chimes of its voice into words recognizable by the two representatives.

The Gaim Ambassador had the mannerisms of any polite and slightly junior diplomat, far from the cold and unfeeling image of the other members of his species arrayed around them. He held the translator and began to speak, the words filtering through in Abbai.

"Do not be alarmed by my guards." The Ambassador said. "They are a precaution, we have taken much loss and must be careful when meeting outsiders."

"Ambassador." Itala stepped forward. "I have returned and brought powerful friends to help the League in its war with the Dilgar as I said I would. The time to fight back is at hand."

"The Queens know you Ambassador Itala. They remember your words from your last visit."

"This is David Sheridan." She gestured to the human. "He is from a planet known as Earth, founding world of the Earth Alliance."

"I bring you the warm greetings of my people." Sheridan said formally. "We wish to offer you friendship and help at this time, the Dilgar have done great harm to you and your race, as they have many others. Earth is committed to driving back their terror and restoring freedom to the League."

"How ave you done this?" The Gaim asked.

"The direct way." Sheridan replied. "We deployed our military forces and killed any Dilgar that didn't run fast enough."

"They've already freed two major worlds, defeated thousands of ships." Itala informed. "They even bested the Deathwalker herself in open battle."

The eyes of the Gaim Ambassador went distant for a while as it communed with it's distant Queens telepathically. "My Queens are most impressed. They perceive more humans are above our world now and the Dilgar are gone."

"That is correct." Sheridan said. "And they won't be coming back."

"We are gathering our strength." Itala said. "Everyday more ships join the fleet, stragglers from the League, fresh ships from Earth, it is a force united for the sole purpose of liberating our homes."

"We are asking each League world to join us, to send what forces it can to battle the Dilgar." Sheridan picked up. "Every additional ship or battalion makes the victory that much swifter, and the Dilgar defeat that much more complete."

"The Gaim have no ships." Spoke the Ambassador. "We have no skill or understanding of them. Our fleet was made of old League ships, barely a handful, all now destroyed."

"We understand." Itala nodded.

"We have armies." The Gaim considered. "But no means of moving them."

"We can provide the means." Sheridan answered. "Cargo and passenger ships, assault transports, military vessels, enough to move entire armies in one trip and put them on an enemy planet."

Again the Gaim communed with his Queens.

"We have taken great loss, our population is now at fourteen billion."

Sheridan looked to Itala, that was still more than both their worlds combined. "How much was it before, if I may ask?"

"A hundred billion." The Ambassador replied with no boast. "But what we have we offer in combat with the Dilgar. The Queens have united in this war, set aside differences, they will fight together against the Dilgar invaders. We will feast on their corpses."

Sheridan didn't doubt the Gaim warriors would. With bodies hardened against attack they could soak up gunfire to an alarming level letting them run at ridiculous speed and close in to slashing and cutting range of those great claws, or in some cases to spray biological acid onto a victim. War for the Gaim was as much a science as it was for any other race, but there was something about their way of executing it which petrified even veteran soldiers in the League.

It was not simply their effectiveness which they brought to a battlefield, but the effect on morale the Gaim had was staggering. To fight tanks and men was one thing, they were at least recognizable instruments of civilized militaries common to the mindset of most worlds. But to fight armoured bugs that melted the flesh from your colleagues with acid and physically ripped apart your squad around you with barbed limbs, well that was a whole new type of horror.

"Before the Dilgar our hives were huge." The Ambassador said in a sort of lament, though any emotional inflection was lost in the dull electronics of the translator. "Towers rising high into the clouds, thousands of them spread across the mountains and plains. All destroyed."

"You had no heavy weapons, no defences." Itala recalled sombrely. "There was no hope."

"They rained down fire, their weapons tore deep into the ground. The spires and towers fell. Some hives were totally destroyed, the Queens killed in a momentary flash. Only the deepest hives survived, and then the losses were immense. Food vats gone, nurseries destroyed. Our race faced extinction. Now the Dilgar will."

"Our aim is to defeat their military, but not to totally exterminate them." Sheridan stated. "We're better than that."

"So you say human Sheridan." The Gaim accepted. "But on the day we have victory, we will decide their fate among us."

Sheridan could only nod, Earth needed allies in this war and if it took an ommission to bring on the Gaim then so be it. The Senate would never authorise the sort of genocide the Dilgar had practiced no matter how justified it might appear. But among the League that had suffered so much that same tolerance was unlikely to be common.

"We put our army at your command." The Ambassador said. "All our warriors will fight where you need them, when you need them. They will die for you if it means killing Dilgar."

"How many warriors do you have?"

"Two Billion." The Gaim answered plainly.

Sheridan smiled, even flat out the Earth Force troop lifts could handle a ten thousandth of that number. But it was one hell of a gesture, and those Gaim that could be deployed would be in as large a force as possible.

"The Allied fleets accept, and we offer the Gaim equal partnership in the gathering of worlds. As senior partner Earth will command all military assets and make all military decisions, but in the field of diplomacy we all stand equal."

"And the Gaim now stand with you."

The alien reached out a hand, remarkably human like save for its more reddish colour. Pleased and slightly surprised Sheridan took the hand and shook it firmly, cementing the deal. One more world and one hell of an army.

If only all negotiations were this easy.


	70. Chapter 70

69

Bestine

Transfer point 'Eldorado'

Earth Alliance Jurisdiction.

Admiral Hamato was never off duty, even when technically he wasn't required to be running a ship or fleet he still had responsibilities. Often those responsibilities were obvious, the continued duties of a flag officer ranging from signing off transfers and requisitions up to handling the odd personal complaint, though as an Admiral his transfers usually involved whole fighter wings and Cruiser Squadrons.

But in this instance his duty was not as a commander of ships and crews but that or humanities premier representative of military power. He was as much an Ambassador as David Sheridan or Richard Grenville, but rather than speaking on behalf of his world Hamato made his statements through deeds and actions. Sheridan was the human fact to the League politicians, but for their Commanders and Generals it was Hamato who represented Earth.

To that end he considered it his eternal duty to make sure the allies of Earth had his full attention and he was ready to answer any of their concerns at any time. That band of allies was not large, but it was growing. A thousand Vree ships had swollen the ranks greatly enhancing the combat power of the Allied fleets, and more Markab ships were joining daily as they returned to service or finished construction. The Descari had a few ships, but they were slow even by human standards and grievously under armed and protected. Hamato had assigned them to convoy protection, where they were still outrun by most freighters.

The newly joined Gaim were another boon to the allies, and while they had no ships their vast army was rightly feared across known space. Excellent shock troops for the coming battles, and seeing the vigour of the Dilgar so far it was a certainty the ground assaults were going to be bloody affairs.

This evening however Hamato had chosen to bring together the various senior military figures of the allied command for what could be called an evening of entertainment, at least it was in the human term of the word. The Admiral had turned one of the mess halls of the station into an impromptu stage, and upon that stage was the band and Choir of Earth Force.

Strictly speaking Earth Force had a lot of bands, each member nation had its military traditions and each branch had its own identity and own separate assortment of musicians. The central band of Earth Force took its pick from the various world militaries and placed them together in one rather large group. The orcheastra before Hamato had Trumpeters from the British Household Guards, drummers from the Russian Navy, guitarists from the United States Air Force and many others, all playing together in exquisite harmony.

On top of that Earth Force also boasted an excellent choir, and in this case there was a clear bias towards Russia with most of the male voices coming from the East. The females were a bit more evenly mixed, and to the pride of the fleet the lead singer of the choir who would lead the soprano parts was Lieutenant Commander April Green, who was of course XO for the Ghost Riders in her day job. Her position had of course generated much talk in the unit, extremely pretty, exquisite figure, deadly fighter pilot and apparently also a superb singer.

Once again her E-mail account on the Earth Force web was beginning to overflow with proposals of outright marriage, all of which she handled perfectly.

Earth Force had offered tickets for the event among personnel in the area and they had been snapped up very quickly, the front row was reserved for the Admiral and his guests, but the rest of the room bore host to five hundred blue or grey uniformed men and women who were grateful for a little live entertainment. Among them was David Sheridan, as guest of April he had a decent place just behind Hamato.

Drawing the most attention however was the front row, with quite a gathering of reporters filming and photographing them as they filed in and took their seats. Among them was Grand Master Valna of the Markab, and more enigmatically Xyten of the Vree. Joining them was a Descari officer named Sholdak who had started as a junior department head and was now officially the most senior ranking member of his world's armed forces. Filling out the rest of the row were human officers including Captain Joe Tennant of the EAS Nemesis which was undergoing repairs. His actions had made the ship and crew heroes back home and made him a celebrity. Something he took with good humour, grinning for the cameras.

The people back home needed to see not just that Earth was doing a good thing out here fighting the Dilgar, but that there were individuals who exemplified humanity at it's finest and the crew of the Nemesis fitted that bill. Ultimately they would go back into action with their ship, but while it was laid up for months being repaired Tennant and many of his people were touring the media circuit to boost recruitment and keep public support high. The story of his lucky grass skirt was by now legend.

The band flurried their instruments for a few moments as the lights dimmed, making final adjustments to their pitch and tension, then settled down as the director of music took centre stage to polite applause. He bowed a silver grey head that reflected the light as brightly as the medals on his dress uniform, then turned, raised his baton and began.

The selection of music was fairly standard, a mix of fairly jaunty tunes to begin with both contemporary and classical, moving on to more sombre melodies before rising up to some massively powerful and complicated pieces to finish with. That would require the full orchestra and choir to really push themselves, something Hamato fully believed they would.

The concept of music was known to Valna and Sholdak, along with most of the rest of the League. To the Vree though it was something different, as a telepathic race they had never really developed audio stimulation and so this form of art was literally alien to them. On the other hand though Vree pictograms and visual art work had come to be considered among the greatest expressions of artistic merit from any race. Oddly complex and plain, calculations and mathematics on paper as inscrutable as the race that created them. It was an acquired taste.

Still, this display of human artistry had intrigued the League officers and Valna was certainly starting to enjoy it, appreciating the martial traditions encapsulated in the sounds and flourishes.

"Admiral," He leaned over. "You have to provide me a crystal of this, inspiring work!"

"I am glad you like it Master Valna." Hamato smiled slightly. "In days long gone the people of many different nations marched to war to songs like this."

"As did we Admiral, one more common bond our worlds share."

"One among many." Hamato agreed.

"Earth was truly created to fight the Dilgar with us, and guide us to our victory." Valna grinned. "No coincidence Admiral, this is destiny."

Perhaps it was, many people in Earth Dome liked to throw around words like 'Destiny' and 'Providence' and maybe they were right, maybe this was Earth's time to rise up. Hamato certainly believed Earth had a right to be taken as seriously as any other power in the galaxy, but he also understood fate and destiny didn't win wars. Smashing fleets, reclaiming worlds and annihilating armies were the only methods of true victory. Earth knew it, the Dilgar knew it, and more officers among the League were beginning to understand it too. Valna was one of them.

"I must tell you Admiral, our people are anxious to press the attack."

Hamato nodded. "Of course Master Valna, after the suffering of the Markab race I understand the need to make sure the Dilgar are never in a position to threaten you again."

"It is more than tat Admiral, my world is a planet gone mad with blood lust." Valna spoke with grimness, possibly a modicum of regret nestled in there too. Hamato picked up that the Markab General did not especially agree with what he was saying but must have been under intense pressure from the government to try and push Hamato and the EA lead fleets to more speedy action.

"Every single voice is demanding immediate retribution, they want us to attack and attack without pause, certain our vigour and righteous cause will be unstoppable."

"It is a commendable spirit, but as you know from experience enthusiasm does not win wars." The human replied. "We cannot advance until we have gathered enough resources to complete the campaign. I need supplies not just for one battle but for several, and we must be aware that at any time we may face a massive Dilgar counter attack. I can't send my ships forward without the means to fight through any situation."

"I understand your caution Admiral, but there is talk of separating the Markab elements and driving on Omelos alone."

Hamato looked on ahead, betraying no reaction. "And your opinion as Markab military leader?"

"Such an act would be suicide."

At least Hamato could rest easy in knowing Valna was still as informed and calm as any human officer he cared to name. Markab fury when unleashed carefully had turned the battle of Bestine into a rout and claimed an extremely high value prize in the form of Warmaster Sha'dur. The crew of the Markab vessel responsible had already been elevated to sainthood by the Theocrats and the whole planet was still rejoicing. Spilling the blood of one of the greater Sky Demons had gone down as an act of heavenly favour and proof the Markab had passed the test set them.

But that same fury when unrestrained had nearly lost them their world and killed most of the standing fleet, losses were so heavy it was unlikely they would recover by the war's end leaving Earth and to an extent the Vree to shoulder the burden.

The problem came if Valna was removed from command and some fanatic was installed instead of him. Hamato had a good working partnership with Valna, they were on the same wavelength and disrupting that couldn't be a good thing especially at this critical stage in the war.

"You believe in divine will Master Valna?"

"Entirely."

"Then you must see that the Great Maker has arranged for you to be placed where you are today? That as you say, there are no coincidences. Just Destiny."

"I think you may be right Admiral."

"And if your people believe the same, then you will have influence Master Valna. They may demand swift action, but you can force them to proceed carefully. Afterall, were you not placed in command by divine judgement? Have you not fought magnificently and spilt much Dilgar blood?"

Valna laughed. "Why didn't you go into politics? You can twist any belief to make it suit you?"

"My talents are better suited out here." Hamato said honestly. "Tell your people patience, our pieces are already moving. In a few more days we will be back on the offensive, then they will have all the death they crave."

Omelos

Dilgar Homeworld

Blood and destruction shall be so in use

And dreadful objects so familiar

That mothers shall but smile when they behold

Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:

And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,

With Ate by his side come hot from hell,

Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice

Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth

With carrion men, groaning for burial.

Absently Jha'dur realised that the sight should make her sad, that normally her heart would be breaking in this dimmed room filled with the hiss of compressed air forced through tubes and the slight thump of ventilators. But she was already in a world of sadness and her heart had long since fractured into razor sharp shards that speared and lacerated her chest with every breath. After a certain point it didn't really matter anymore, she couldn't feel any worse than she already did and each new tragedy became more a source of irony than sadness. This was, as humans so cleverly put it, rock bottom.

She watched Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan as he laboured unconscious on the bed, clean white sheets rising and falling as machines pumped air into his lungs and rows of intravenous drips supplied nutrients to his blood stream. It was a pitiful state, without the machines he would be dead in minutes and the latest brain scans had shown the once terrifying Warlord was all but finished, as helpless as a new born child but without the functions to grow.

The cause of this condition was still unknown, but Jha'dur's intensive research had shown no history of similar conditions in Gar'shan's ancestry, no recorded exposure to toxins or radiation and no trace of genetic imperfections. The Supreme Warmaster had been in perfect health and even considering the stress of the war should have lived to see a hundred years.

But instead he was here on the brink of death kept alive by tubes invading his body and mechanical contraptions forcing life to remain in his flesh. And Jha'dur still didn't know why this was happening.

Well more precisely she didn't know how, she knew exactly why. Greed. Power. Ambition. Avarice. A thousand other reasons perhaps but all of them meant the same thing, Gar'shan had a place that somebody else wanted, and they had been willing to kill him for it. That person had been Len'char, at least Jha'dur believed so. She still hadn't uncovered any hard evidence but her suspicions were enough to put the former Warmaster in a world of constant pain Though technically she'd have done that just for amusement anyway, good reason or not.

There were many questions to consider about her new situation. She had finally done it, finally installed herself as Supreme Warmaster though she would never take that title while Gar'shan still drew breath, artificially or not. While she did want the position she wanted it to come to her naturally after Gar'shan passed away naturally. If he woke up, when he woke up, then she would relinquish her power in an instant and return to her place as his right hand enforcer of Imperial policy and be glad of it. In many ways that day couldn't come soon enough.

For now her place was secure. She'd scared the other Warmasters into submission and disposed of the two most likely to act against her, though Dru'tal and Sen'la would need watching. They probably wouldn't last a year if she had her way. She was confident she could head off any attempts on her life under normal circumstances, but these were far from normaol circumstances and with the war consuming her efforts she would need to rely heavily on Arn'dal and his Spectres. But they couldn't be everywhere at once and while excelt agents they were more combat based than espionage trained. She would need to address that in the future to make the Spectres a full fledged intelligence unit unrivalled in the galaxy.

But before then she had to stabilise the front lines with Earth, and that was a task that even she with her insight and experience found to be impossible. She just didn't have enough ships to hold the territory they had seized from attack. The Dilgar were to spread out and early losses during the Markab campaign had really hit home. Combined with the ships lost to the Drazi a fe wmonths early through Len'char's meddling the Imperium was in a dire situation. Even if she knew where and when Earth was going to attack and even if she concentrated every ship on the front to match them her forces just did not have the combat power to stop a full scale assault by Earth Force.

She had plans of course, but they took time and depended on her subordinates to fulfil their roles. For the next few weeks or months she would simply have to wait and try to simply control and minimise the damage Earth could do. That alone would be a severe test of her strategic and tactical skills, it wasn't about beating Earth it was simply surviving long enough to fight back.

But one more thing was on her mind, especially now as she sat here beside Gar'shan. His last act before he had slipped into this coma had been to send Jha'dur a drug which when administered had broken her out of her own Earth Force induced incapacity. She had a sample of that substance and had been analysing it thoroughly. If it had helped her she wondered if it could also help her mentor.

The drug had refused to synthesise itself, its structure was complex on a scale entirely new to her. It was like a five year old reading the latest theories on hyperspace physics, yet immediately her mind had spotted patterns in the drug she recognised as organic compounds. It was something entirely new but already she understood approximately how it worked, she just couldn't duplicate it. What it had done was given her ideas, pushed her thought sin a new direction and opened up concepts so wild and unsupported by regular Dilgar science she would not have considered them before. It was a whole new level and this drug was the key. It was almost as if life force itself had been distilled into liquid form, and if someone had managed this first step, then she could take it further and just possibly create her masterpiece. Immortality.

What was for sure however, was that this drug was not a product of Dilgar science, or any of the races in the known Galaxy. This was on an entirely different level of understanding and there was no record as to where Gar'shan had acquired it. All she did know was that he had given it to her to save her life, and in the process had given away his own best hope for life.

But inside her there was nothing left to appreciate that most noble of sacrifices, her grief was bottomless now and any fresh torment poured in simply vanished into the void that made up her soul, if she had ever possessed such a thing.

"Sometimes I see his eyes flicker, as if he were about to wake up."

She felt the speaker of those words sit beside her, as familiar with that voice as her own. The uniformed man settled, his gaze also on the frail body at the heart of the room.

"Involuntary muscle movement." Jha'dur replied. "Common in patients of this type."

"And a sign people are dreaming." He answered. "That there is still life in the body."

"Maybe." Jha'dur conceded. "But dreaming of what? Are they dreams, or nightmares you can't wake up from?"

"Maybe both."

"Life is a nightmare you can't wake up from." Jha'dur answered. "Just by dying."

Battlemaster Dal'shan did not answer that, he didn't have any words that would not sound hollow. This had not been the best of times for the Dilgar military, they had been riding high on the success they had with the League, drunk on glory and the myth of their own supremacy. Earth Force had shown them that they were merely mortal and the loss of pride was matched only by the loss of good ships and good warriors.

So far in this campaign Dal'shan had lost a brother fighting Earth Force on Tiree and an adopted brother at Bestine. Both had been good deaths as noble as tradition demanded staring down the barrels of a worthy opponent, but they were still dead all the same. Now he was sat by his fathers bedside watching him also drift away into the mystery beyond life, or oblivion, he wasn't entirely sure anymore.

The other thing he was forced to watch and endure was the equally remorseful departure of the woman he had come to love and her replacement by whatever had taken up home in Jha'dur's mind. Most Dilgar wouldn't notice a difference, but he could tell. He saw the fundamental shift in her character the moment he saw her and it was confirmed now by her words. He had been afraid that Earth Force had killed her, but it seemed that in truth it was Len'char that had destroyed the person she once was.

He wanted to bring her back, but it wasn't going to happen while the war was going on. She had adopted a persona, one she had deemed would serve her well in dealing with the tragedy and stress visited upon her. But he still believed the real Jha'dur wa sin there somewhere buried under battleplans and the screams of her experiments. Somewhere in there was the nervous but creative woman he had first met many years ago, and she would return when all this was done. She had to.

"Our reconnaissance has shown a decrease in human supply convoys." He stated. "They seem to be slacking off."

"They don't need them anymore." Jha'dur reasoned. "Their holds are full, magazines brimming with weapons. They will be coming soon, back on the offensive."

Dal'shan nodded. "Brakir or Mitoc?"

They were the two obvious objectives open to Earth Force. From their current position they could launch a direct strike at either of those two worlds, any other likely targets such as Cascor or Ipsha would require a large redeployment, something the EA was unlikely to do in the face of a Dilgar force, no matter how weakened.

"If I were them, Mitoc." Jha'dur answered. "It's the keystone of the whole front, take it and everything this side of Balos falls. Leave it and we have a fortress world from which we can cut supply lines and attack liberated League worlds."

"And if they attack now we are at our weakest." Dal'shan considered. "It is the smart choice."

"The defences there are massive, but if Earth really wants Mitoc we can't stop them." The Warmaster replied, all business now. "But we can inflict massive casualties in the process, enough so they have to cancel further offensives until they recover. That could be over a year."

"By which time we too will have rebuilt." Dal'shan nodded in understanding. "And with your crash building programme we might just have the advantage."

"We might. But we must understand Earth is not Omelos. The pure military decision is to hit Mitoc, and you can be sure Earth Force is pushing for that decision. But the humans have to consider their alliance with the League. Their main objective is to free the League, not annihilate us as it should be. If given a choice between annihilation and liberation, they must pick liberation."

"I imagined humans were as single minded in war as we are?"

"Oh they are, every bit as committed to the principles of total victory as we are, and what's more they actually understand they will only win by killing us. But Earth is not run by Warmasters, it is run by public opinion and elected Presidents. If Earth hits Mitoc, true they will earn a massive victory and end any hope we have of retaking the League, but they will not have the forces to free Brakir in time, and as you know that world is at its final reserves of food and water."

Brakir was a harsh desert world with limited supplies of water, and therefore naturally would only be able to support a small population. However as the Brakiri nosed into space they found fresh ways to bring water to their world by mining local comets and asteroids which In turn allowed their arid world to artificially support a much larger population.

Unfortunately the Dilgar had now cut them off from their supplies of orbital ice and water, and while the planet was still holding out with rings of satellites and ground batteries along with a small fleet of scratched together warships assembled from the wrecks in orbit, the great battle for Brakir had hit them hard. Sha'dur had managed to hit the planet with a few Mass Driver shots, enough to immolate a billion people and knock out the main water reserves and reclaimation plants. Without them the Brakiri were doomed and as the rationed water ran out the population would implode into civil war as they killed each other over the remaining resources.

Jha'dur had planned to monitor it as a social experiment on a massive scale, a means to witness how society coped with impending Armageddon which of course would have a relevance to Omelos in a few years time. The Brakiri were now almost at that stage, another month or two and all hell would break loose. She had been quite looking forward to it.

"That is their weakness, one of them anyway." Jha'dur said. "The military has the will to burn every planet from here to Omelos, they have the firepower and don't doubt they haven't done so in the past. They have done such slaughter as even I would be proud of, but the humans aren't proud of it. It appals them. They could so easily have been us, but just didn't have the stomach."

"But some of them do?"

"Yes, and even after all this time it isn't something you breed out of a person." Jha'dur grinned. "Earth has its new Hitlers and new Attilas there just waiting for a chance to show their skills. But right now they are held in check, they would level the League to defend their world as we have done. But not the current leaders. They will attack Brakir first, then Mitoc. It will give us a month or two to complete our preparations."

"you sound like you admire them." Dal'shan pointe dout.

"Oh I do." Jha'dur replied honestly. "They stand head and shoulders above everyone we've fought. In a perfect universe I may even have called them allies. I could have split the galaxy with them, and what a terror we would have been. But instead I must destroy them, and of all the worlds I have ordered destroyed theirs is the only one I'll miss."

"I appreciate the idea Jha'dur, but there is no way we can get to Earth to attack it. We don't even know where it is."

"I have a contact in the Narn government, a senior member of the Kha'ri." Jha'dur informed. "She gave us the location."

"Even so, if we move an attack fleet the humans will see it and attack."

"We won't be using a whole fleet, and my friend in the Kha'ri has offered us a route through Narn space."

"They gave us access?" Dal'shan huffed. "What did that cost?"

"Half of Drazi space." Jha'dur shrugged. "They know we're desperate. Hard bargain to drive. Still, we'll have it when we nuke their homeworld too."

Dal'shan was still not convinced. "No, even if you bypass the human fleets they still have ships patrolling their territory, and do you want to guess at how completely overpowered the human defence grid will be over their home?"

"It would make the nuclear barrage at Markab look like a firework party." She replied. "If they see us coming."

"I don't follow."

"Do you recall the Hyach? I defeated most of their fleet in a surprise attack?"

"I remember them."

"Very old, very powerful race. We've been using components from their laser guns in our Sekhmet main batteries to increase their yields. Along with weapons components we've also salvaged elements of their stealth cruisers."

Dal'shan grinned. "You built a Stealth vessel of your own."

"A technology tester, something I hope we can develop in the future." She said. "One cruiser, just a refit of a Tratharti class battlecruiser, but at anything longer than point blank range invisible to sensors."

"I have to give you credit Jha'dur, you can still surprise me."

"I am sending it with a support fleet, a standard heavy battle group. Those ships will jump out and attack Earth directly. I expect them to last a minute at best and inflict no damage. But they will distract the humans while the stealth ship attacks. Once it fires it to will die, but I have made sure it has the most lethal virus I have ever created. One missile is enough to extinguish all life on Earth."

"And with Earth gone, the human fleet will wither and die."

"Actually I expect them to fly into a rage and hit Omelos directly." Jha'dur said. "I also expect them to win and wipe out all life on the planet. But of course that's going to happen anyway. What they won't be able to do is take Mitoc, and so our rac elive son in the twenty million people there already. Oh, and the League still dies."

"You are a devil Jha'dur."

"I do what I must. Pity, I do find myself quite liking humans."

"Even after what they did to…" He cut himself off.

"My brother… he died because of Len'char and the Markab. Not humans. Your brother also died because of Len'char's miscalculation. I don't hate Earth like I hate the vermin that crawls and withes around us, but it must be stopped for the good of our people."

"And if the humans destroy this ship before it attacks?"

"Then we fail." She shrugged. "And we continue to implement our plans for a conventional battle which we will still win. But this way saves us a lot of time and a lot of resources."

"Resources we can use to finish the League."

"I will first let the humans throw themselves at our home, meet them with every ship and do what damage we can. Whatever is left will go to support Dar'sen in removing the Drazi, or come with me to finish the Vree and Markab. Then we are done." She paused. "In fact then we will move into Human space, if the Centauri do not take it first."

"And so ends the war."

"So ends the war." Jha'dur affirmed. "Until the next one."

They sat in silence for a moment watching the life and death struggle of the Supreme Warmaster go on before them. It was every bit as desperate and vicious as a warrior in battle or pilot duelling with a Starfury, but the old man gave no sign of it from the outside and no one could see what was happening within.

"I have an assignment for you Dal'shan."

The officer switched his gaze. "I am yours to command Warmaster."

"Two ships of the new Sekhmet class will be ready soon. While you know my thoughts on building them at this early stage they are none the less about to enter commission and so we will use them."

"I saw some plans for them, they use League technology don't they?"

"Yes, literally." Jha'dur confirmed. "We were ultimately hoping to copy League technology and make our own copies, shields, gravitic propulsion, enhanced weapons. But our reverse engineering is still in an early stage so those ships have actual League components wedged into them."

Dal'shan chuckled. "Bet that was fun to get working."

"I still don't trust it, I get the feeling it will fall apart in action." She shuddered. "But all the tests seem positive. They have full gravitic propulsion, shields, advanced armour and the most powerful guns we could squeeze onto the hull. Those two vessels, for their faults, are the fastest, toughest and deadliest ships in this war. If used correctly."

"Of course."

"Let's be clear, you aren't going to survive a Nova broadside in one of these, but you will be agile and fast enough not to get hit."

"So you need a good officer to command one." Dal'shan guessed. "I'm honoured."

"Take the first of these ships. I'll give you a small escort to go with it." Jha'dur stated. "Good ships, Strike Fleet veterans. You have your pick of officers and crew, and as the ship hasn't been commissioned yet you can pick a name for it too."

"Shame your flagship took the best name." He smiled, referring to the Dreadnought Deathwalker.

"I'm sure you'll find something appropriate." Jha'dur shrugged. "Your orders are to proceed behind enemy lines and sow chaos. I'm not going to say anything specific, I strongly suspect the humans have broken our communications and would use it to track you. Out there you are on your own."

"I think I'll enjoy the freedom."

"I trust you to know what to hit and when." Jha'dur continued. "These are valuable ships, and have a valuable Commander. I'd appreciate it if both assets came back in one piece."

In that moment Dal'shan caught a very brief glimpse of the old Jha'dur, and that offered him a tiny ray of hope.

"I'd rather like that too." He chuckled.

"This is the first step in operation Hell's Gate, our ultimate plan for the defeat of Earth if the Virus bombs fail. The Human's can never know of this plan, or the assets and locations we are setting up to implement it."

"I understand Warmaster. They won't learn it from me. If it comes to it, I will do whatever is required to keep this plan secret."

She nodded. "You should go now, the ship's will be ready for their crews and operational training."

"Very well." Dal'shan stood. "Thank you for this assignment, and it has been good to see you back."

Jha'dur managed a genuine smile. "Dal'shan?"

"Warmaster?"

"Don't forget to come back."

Gamma 7

Former Brakiri Colony

Dilgar Occupied.

The sound was not so much a bang as a slight hiss like passing air, from within his helmet Garibaldi wouldn't have noticed the impact if he had relied on sound alone. What he did notice was the sudden chill wind blasting through the holes opened up in the side of the transport and the bitter yelp of surprised pain from the soldier sat to his right.

"Sampson's hit!" He called. "Everyone stay strapped in damn it!"

His mind told him this was a pretty dumb thing to do, but never the less one of his men was in trouble and as Sergeant Garibaldi had to do something about it. He thumped the quick release catch on his seat straps and pulled himself out of the contoured chair he had been stuck in for nearly an hour. Very soon after the aircraft that was carrying Red Platoon jolted hard to one side with a sudden whine of engine power, throwing Garibaldi flat on his face.

With a curse about the heritage of the pilot he drew himself up and checked on Private Sampson, one of the new replacements for the platoon.

"Where'd they get you son?" He asked. "What does the suit say?"

The sealed combat gear Earth Force troops wore was lined with interwoven sensors that would tell a soldier if an area was ripped, usually as a precaution against going into a bioweapon contaiminated zone without adequate protection. It also served the purpose of letting the unfortunate private know where he'd been wounded, not that the human body didn't have its own rather more pointed method of informing Sampson which part of his body had been riddled with holes.

"Lower leg Sarge, left and right!" He snarled through his teeth.

"Okay, hang on." He broke open a medical pack on his belt, the Frigga class VTOL transport aircraft again bucking like a startled stallion at a rodeo and nearly throwing the Sergeant on the deck again.

"Learn to fly!" He shouted at the flight deck, though the pilots had no way to hear him through his helmet. It did however give his platoon a little smile.

So far things could have been better, but could also have been a lot worse. While the ride was rough it was much preferably to the alternative, taking a Dilgar surface to air missile head on. As usual the 99th was leading the way, this was the job they were trained for and paid for, dropping out of orbit, clearing a landing zone, then hitting their opponent hard and fast.

Although sometimes the enemy had a tendency to hit back.

The initial landings had been totally painless, the Dilgar had probably been expecting an assault but Earth force had managed to pull off a bluff. There was only one target of any use on Gamma 7, a single Dilgar base and planetary defence centre. That base controlled a series of large planet based guns, a moderate network of satellites and some minefields scattered near the jump gate. While the planet had no value to Earth and the small population was long since gone that base remained a problem. It could serve to rearm and refuel Dilgar convoy raiders, it could monitor Earth Force fleet movements and it could engage any Earth ships that entered the system retreating from the expected heavy battle coming at Brakir.

Gamma 7 was just a stepping stone, but one which had to be quickly neutralised to maintain the integrity of the assault. The easy solution was to simply wipe it out with an orbital strike, but that was where the defences came into play. The heavy ground batteries had turned out to be extremely nasty laser cannons which would ignore interceptors and pack enough punch to core a heavy cruiser, and probably finish a Dreadnought if they had the chance.

Earth couldn't risk losing a capital ship on a mission like this, so had created a second strategy, a swift and surgical strike by an infantry brigade.

Earth had deployed a trio of assault ships carrying a battalion each, the lead vessel of course being the 99th. These vessels dropped their shuttles from outside the effective range of the planetary defences and then promptly fled to an even more safe distance. Usually it would have been suicide to deploy shuttles so far out, but Earth Intelligence and discovered that the planet had no fighter defences and that the frigates and Thoruns normally assigned had been recalled to fill out the main battle fleets. Every one of the shuttles made it through intact.

Then the real fun started. The 99th had not in this instance loaded up into the normal Hades class assault shuttles common to Earth Force, instead they were using much larger Omaha class landers developed in the early days of Earth Force and due to be replaced by the newer Condor class. The bigger landing craft were used to move vehicles in addition to infantry, and that is exactly what they were doing for the 99th.

Garibaldi and his colleagues had been riding down on an aircraft within a spacecraft, namely the Frigga VTOL airborne transport used by the Alliances air mobile units. They couldn't be deployed direct from space, but once in the atmosphere all that needed to be done was to push them out of the Omaha landers and let them fly to their targets.

It was great on paper, not so great when you are sat in the back of one lurching out of a hefty shuttle at twenty thousand feet travelling at supersonic speeds. Bumpy didn't even begin to cover it.

However it did mean the battalion was airborne and moving fast without having to pause on the ground to load up and take off. They had speed and surprise on their side as they rushed towards their assigned objective in three waves of silver and grey warplanes screeching through the air now at treetop level through hard beating rain.

While the dozen widely spaced gun batteries were the main targets Earth didn't have to hit each one, they only had to take out the central base. That base was divided into three sections, with each section due to be assaulted by one of the human battalions. The 99th had responsibility for taking out the main communication and supply sector, which consisted of a munitions dump, communication building and huge transceiver tower. The building was a small fortress, heavily built and now doubt defended. However with no civilians in the area the unit was free to simply let loose with all they had and hit the place hard.

That target happened to be furthest from the landing zones, meaning the 99th had a long way to go. The whole Dilgar base was the size of a decent town and would require a lot of effort to clear out, but fortunately Earth Force had managed to send in some support elements. While the brigade was designed more for speed than punch and didn't have heavy armour and artillery they did have gunships and a variety of light and medium fighting vehicles. Most of those would come up with the other units driving into battle, but the gunships had been assigned to the 99th and damn pleased about it they were too.

Each of the three battalions was essentially a light mobile unit, better trained and equipped than a line battalion and expected to fight without much support in an offensive role. What they lacked in massive firepower they made up for in superior training and extremely high morale and combat spirit.

The second battalion coming up in light APC's and combat vehicles were the 2nd Regiment of Assault Rangers. An elite among Earth Force the Rangers were premier assault troops bridging the gap between the regular and numerous infantry and the extremely lethal but small special forces units like the SAS and Razzies.

Their heritage dated back to the US Army Rangers and Russian Spetsnaz regiments and in most ways the Earth Force Rangers operated in the same manner as their originator units. They tended to be the first into battle and were thrown against the toughest enemy positions, no one else had troops like these and both their numbers and ferocity made them truly lethal.

More heavily armed than Garibaldi's airborne unit they would assault the main command centre, the control room for the planetary defences and expected to extend deep under ground. Combat there was expected to be extremely heavy and the Rangers had been given double the issue of incendiary grenades and fletchette shot guns to clear narrow corridors and well protected rooms.

Losses were expected to be heavy, and if possible the 99th would move to assist the Rangers once they achieved their own objectives.

The third objective was the town itself and the various barracks, power plants and secondary command centres. While these places were not as well protected as the command and communication points they were home to the majority of the Dilgar garrison and would be expected to put up a lot of resistance. Once again Earth had picked a light infantry battalion to sweep in and run over them before they could react properly. The Gurkha Rifles.

More properly the 6th Regiment, Queens Own Gurkha Rifles were thundering along in their own fighting vehicles beside the Rangers smashing through the woodlands and spraying mud from their tracked carriages. While most nations on Earth had elite units the Gurkhas could claim to have carved out a place very high on that heap, some would say they were the best Light Infantry on the planet. Slightly shorter than the average Ranger or Paratrooper they wore the same uniforms and carried the same rifles, the only addition was the infamous thick bladed Kukri fighting knife hanging by the side of each soldier.

The Gurkha Regiments had been created in the early nineteenth century after a brief but vicious war between Nepal and the British Empire. While ultimately losing to the British forces and the industrialised war machine they brought with them they still managed to fight tenaciously and skilfully in the process earning each others mutual respect. Over time the Nepalese hill men became staple units in the British Empire, with the Empire benefiting from some of the hardiest fighters in the world and the Gurkhas finding a way out of their impoverished communities. It became a mark of great honour to serve at the head of the British forces and Gurkha Regiments were rightly feared in battle, especially as Gurkhas had a proclivity for sneaking across enemy lines at night and beheading sentries.

The days of Empire were long gone, but a handful of Gurkha units remained in British service, along with a larger number serving India. While Nepal was as advanced as any Earth nation with the capital of Kathmandu a popular tourist area many Nepalese shunned the comfort of modern lives and lived traditionally upon the Himalayas. It was these men who formed Gurkha Regiments.

Of the three Regiments going into action the Gurkhas were considered the best at urban combat and would secure the locations with the largest Dilgar presence, keeping the enemy off balance and preventing counter attacks while the other human units destroyed the key facilities.

The operation was timed to be fast and decisive, they didn't have to take the base or planet, they didn't even have to kill all the Dilgar, just neutralise the defences, fall back, and allow the assault ships to nuke whatever was left. First down would be the 99th, using their mobility to draw the Dilgar into action on the far side of the base and hopefully weaken the rest of the defences for the follow up battalions to smash through. That was the basic premise of Operation Nadsmasher, a name designed to thoroughly confuse any Dilgar codebreakers that heard it and give the human troops participating a good chuckle when they were briefed.

It was just one part in a much larger operation here, the brigade here was the first step in a massive new offensive with the ultimate goal of driving the Dilgar clean out of the central League. While Brakir was the first major action expected Hamato and General Denisov had far greater ambitions. This offensive would not stop until Mitoc itself, fortress world of the Imperium was under allied control. If the Dilgar were expecting a series of massive but short attacks they would be disappointed.

Earth Force had crammed so much fuel and munitions into Eldorado and the surrounding space it could maintain a full scale assault for up to three months, a quarter year of all out war that was unprecedented in human history. The simple distance and scale incorporated in the plan was beyond anything Earth Force had earlier predicted, but Hamato was a man who knew when a risk was worth it.

The Dilgar were still reeling from the Markab campaign, this was the time to hit them and hit them incredibly hard. What made things better was that finally the war build ships had made it to the front line, the ships laid down a year ago in response to the loss of the EAS Persephone and growing tensions as world after world fell to the Dilgar.

Earth Force had its full war fighting strength in the field, highly motivated and ready to go. Three thousand warships under a central command supported by thirteen hundred League vessels. They were still outnumbered at least two to one in terms of just numbers, but in terms of tonnage that figure was much closer thanks to the heavy weight of human vessels, and in terms of pure combat power things were much more in favour of the allies.

But right now all Garibaldi was interested in was not dropping the medical kit.

"Hold on, here's the pain killer!" He called, then jabbed an epidermal spray into Sampson's leg. Immediately the serum took affect and blunted the Private's pain, though the wounds were still bleeding quite badly. He fished out the bandages and slapped them on place, the polymer based material bonding with the flesh of the leg and forming a tight and flexible seal.

"Good as new, how's that feel?" The Sarge asked.

"Can't feel a thing boss." Sampson said, obviously a hell of a lot more relieved about the situation than Garibaldi.

"Okay, stay aboard here when we land and the fly boys will take you back to the Landing Zone."

"Pretty crappy start for my first battle." Sampson huffed.

"Least you didn't get shot in the ass. Take it easy, plenty more fighting later."

The pitch of the engines changed again, this time growing to a thunderous roar as the transport made its final approach. They had a landing zone picked out in a clearing a half mile from their objective, fairly close but far enough away so they were not landing on enemy bunkers. Unfortunately the clearing was a blatantly obvious place to put down, and no doubt the Dilgar would be waiting.

"Make sure you're ready to jump!" Garibaldi called, quickly surveying the rows of men. "Get out of here fast, spread left and right by squad! Quick, clean and don't embarrass us in front of the Captain!"

There were chortles of agreement.

"First on the floor, same as always!" Garibaldi growled, psyching himself up and his troops alongside for the firefight ahead. "You want something doing right, better call in the damn Nine-Nine!"

The troops chorused their agreement.

"Them little kitties haven't got a clue what's about to head their way, hot damn people this is what we signed up for! This is why we're out here! Ain't no unit in the whole damn galaxy as bad-ass as we are right now!"

Red Platoon yelled a deafening shout of confirmation, slapping each other.

"They thought the Screaming Eagles were tough before? Man, we just tripled their Bad-ass level just by turning up!"

"Ten seconds!" The pilot yelled over the intercom. "Good luck, we're coming in hot!"

Garibaldi yanked his rifle around from his shoulder and primed it, the charge hissing as it was locked into place.

"Lets go give it to 'em boys and girls!" He snarled and grabbed a handle by the aft ramp, aiming to be the first out. "Those Dilgar don't know how fragging privileged they are to be getting killed by us today! It's a frickin honour! Close visors, charge rifles and pray there's enough of them out there for us to get some quality killing done! Let's show 'em what 'Death From Above' really means!"

The transport stopped its descent, engines on the wing mounts swivelling down and throttling back to go into a hover. This was the most dangerous moment, stationary at ground level with barely enough protection to resist small arms the Frigga VTOL was a sitting duck. It was however capable of shooting back, and as Dilgar fire erupted from a stand of trees at the edge of the clearing the transports co-pilot locked on the crafts defensive armament and returned the bright energy bolts with a stream of Earth Force plasma.

Everything happened so fast Garibaldi didn't even think about what he was doing, all he needed was instinct and the memory of his training. He bent his knees and swayed as the tail end of the VTOL swung about to put the body of the jet between its precious cargo and the incoming fire. The ramp at the back cracked open, dropping in an instant to reveal a rain sodden sky and the tops of trees. Between the lines of vertical rain ran horizontal tracers going in both directions.

He couldn't see the ground but knew it must be just a short jump down, if it wasn't he was not going to be a happy man. With a roar of challenge he loped forwards, clearing the ramp in three long strides and launching himself through the air, rain splashing his helmet and rifle as he went.

He landed in a slop of mud and water, sinking nearly to his knees. It might have looked comical but getting bogged down in a clearing under enemy fire was no joke. He threw himself flat as the VTOL slowly moved forward, the rest of the unit leaping out in pairs onto the soft ground and likewise flinging themselves flat.

"Red Platoon down!" He called on his headset, his visor giving him a list and location of all the team members except Private Sampson.

"Roger that, breaking away!"

The Frigga belched fire and steam, its down thrust of jet exhaust baking a small portion of the ground to dryness as the grey bird took flight, still spraying gunfire. Several others were following suit having deposited the first wave.

"Red Platoon, Alpha Actual." Cut in the gruff sound of Captain Franklin. "Move forward to the tree line and eliminate all opposition. Be advised, Blue Platoon is on your right."

"Confirmed." Answered Lieutenant Brook. "Sergeant, advance by squad, straight by the numbers."

"By the numbers." Garibaldi confirmed. "Okay, Bugs, up and at them! Harlow, cover fire, get it on!"

From the mud the human soldiers raised themselves dripping water and grime, it was hard just to stand and running was a dream, but still they attacked.

The hiss of the PPG rifles was louder in the rain, the downpour evaporating on contact with the roiling bolts of energy. Each shot left a brief and faint trail of steam like a miniature comet streaking to Earth. The Dilgar rounds likewise burned the air, giving the atmosphere a scent of thunder and lightning made here by man and alien.

The two support guns opened up, old style slugthrowers chattering throaty growls as they ripped bullets through the foliage smashing branches and bodies.

"Come on then!" Garibaldi shouted, sliding three times in the sticky mud before finally getting moving. "Come on, treeline dead ahead!"

Dilgar fire was slapping the ground everywhere, sometimes too close for comfort. Beside them Blue Platoon was doing the same thing, clawing the mud apart under fire, moving far too slowly. A trio of people went down in as many seconds, and as Dilgar fire swept across the clearing one of Red Platoon's front men snapped backwards and splashed into the mud.

"Stay down! Down!" Garibaldi snapped angrily, cursing in frustration. "Crowbar here, we're not going anywhere in this crap! We can't even walk straight!"

"Alright Sergeant, hold tight." Brook answered from somewhere out of sight.

"Hold tight he says." Tucker grumbled. "And here I was about to set up a barbeque."

"Didn't intel say today was going to be bright and sunny?" Bugs added. "Spring Morning I think the exact words were."

"You mean to tell me our intelligence boys got it wrong?" Garibaldi asked mockingly. "I guess that means it's Tuesday."

A few blue bolts whooshed overhead, forcing them to drop their heads down into the ground for a moment. When they looked back up their face plates were slick with mud.

"We shoulda' joined the airforce."

Almost perfectly on cue the edge of the treeline vanished in a massive searing blast, the concussion throwing rain and wind into the sheltering Earth Force troops like stinging hail. Rows of flame reached high in the air, streaking brightly against the dull sky.

"Red Platoon, be advised Airstrike on it's way." Brook said.

Garibaldi shook his head. "Got it sir, we're moving."

"Gotta admire the man's timing." Tucker remarked. "I heard he burned down his house because he left his cooker on too long."

"And I heard he parked his care too close to the docks in Boston harbour." Bugs added with a chuckle. "And it slipped into the water."

"So his timing sucks, and he can't tell where he is?" Garibaldi checked. "And he's calling in million credit Airstrikes right in front of us?"

"I love the army." Tucker beamed. "I really do."

"We're all going to die." Bugs huffed.

"If we are then we're doing it over there." Garibaldi pointed at the cinders of the trees. "Move!"

There wasn't a whole lot left when they arrived, but already the heavy rain had turned the scorched Earth back to mud. A few pieces of equipment and what might have been body parts poked up through the mud like debris sinking into a sea.

"Guess that's secure then." Bugs made the observation.

"Kill everything in a giant explosion. Yeah, that'll do the job." His friend answered back.

"Spread out." Garibaldi waved them off. "Alpha Actual, Crowbar. Landing Zone Nine-Nine is secure, ready to proceed."

"Understood Sergeant." Franklin answered. "We're moving in weapons teams right now, get ready to go."

"Roger that sir, we'll be ready." The channel closed and he brought back up his platoon wide announcer. "Okay Ladies and gentlemen, hunker down for a minute, watch front."

"Movement front, no IFF!" Harlow suddenly reported. "Engaging!"

A section of the Platoon began shooting, their fire converging on a point a head to resulting screams and shouted orders. The return fire was almost instant, a heavy suppressive rake of blue energy that slammed into charred tree stumps and earth.

"Damn they're good." Garibaldi snarled. "Red Platoon! Let 'em have it! Large, get that sodding M-G up here and spitting!"

The Dilgar went to ground and in almost a mirror of the human troops fired on full automatic. They had a slender chance of hitting anything but their actions forced Red Platoon to stay low.

Bugs squeezed off a few shots before dropping flat again, a stream of blue going over his head.

"Oh yeah, way too good."

"We ain't rushing these guys." Garibaldi snarled. "Stay low and wait for fire support."

"I hate it when we actually have to earn our pay." The Corporal agreed.

Garibaldi nodded, the swift offensive wasn't going exactly according to plan.

Minbar

Homeworld of the Minbari Federation.

"Good evening Lenonn, I have to say I had expected you a little later."

A slight breeze caught the brown robes of the elderly Ranger, tussling the light material as he moved out from the airy room and onto the Balcony. The evening air was crisp and cool but the ethereal light of the cliff faces cast shades of blue and green across the City of Sorrows.

"Well I was going to wait until after the evening meal, but I found my appetite desert before dessert."

The tall Minbari beside him chuckled slightly, his eyes closed and face bathed in the blue light. "Well my friend, it is good to hear your voice again. Even if the jokes are the same."

Dukhat opened his eyes and broke out of meditation, savouring the view from this edifice high in the Ranger compound gazing out across the majesty of the city. He didn't visit this place anywhere near as often as he would like. Far below he noted a group of trainee Rangers meditating much as he had been, soaking in the tranquil atmosphere.

The Rangers had never been an especially large force and even at their height a thousand years ago the Warrior Clans of Minbar packed far greater firepower and resources. The gift of the Rangers, and the purpose of their creation by Valen, had always been one of precision. They were the surgeons scalpel, swift, sharp and incredibly precise in their targets. They were the first into battle and the last to leave, so decreed Valen. They walked where no others dared, they stood upon the bridge and allowed none to pass. They lived for the One, they died for the One.

But in this day and age, this era of long peace and complacent isolation the Rangers had been neglected. They were still the razor of Valen, but their numbers were miniscule and their resources almost non-existent. By the last count they had barely a hundred bodies and a handful of ancient vessels deemed unfit for military service.

The Warrior caste had always sneered at the Rangers, even in the face of Valen and the stunning victories against the odds they achieved again and again against the Shadows, still they were looked down upon. Most people had forgotten they even existed, and those that recalled considered them an anachronism labouring on out of misguided respect for their original great leader.

There were still those among the Castes who did truly belief in the Rangers and their cause, and those few had been enough to keep the force active across the centuries. Each year brought fewer recruits, and as the average age of the Rangers increased they found themselves no longer warriors but watchmen guarding the fringes of space and observing events. That for Dukhat was their second biggest advantage, the first being their undeniable loyalty to the legacy of Valen.

Shunned, ridiculed, mocked or ignored, it did not matter. A Ranger was more than a badge and an incantation of ancient oaths. He or she belonged to an elite cadre of soldiers and agents. They were still the most lethal of combatants which accounted for much of the Warrior castes continued annoyance and still entrusted with the deepest secrets of Minbari history.

They were one of the last direct links to valen and the glory he had brought, almost as old an institution as the Grey Council and by those who knew of them and the truth of their ways they were reverred like no others. Yet the adoration did not affect them and they remained as humble and forthright as the Entil'zha had been on the day of founding. Loyal, incorruptable, brave in word and deed, the Rangers were still the house wardens of Valen.

And that was why Lenonn and Dukhat got on so well. There were no politics here, no hidden agendas or sleights of hand. Both men could speak openly and honestly to each other and be assured a straight unbiased answer. The confidence was rare for a leader to enjoy, even one as open and charismatic as Dukhat.

"Your friend Kadenn is in the archives again." The Chief Ranger stated. "When we granted him unconditional access we did expect that at least once a day he would leave so we could clean his desk. We could lock him in for a week and I don't expect he would notice."

"He is doing important work for me." Dukhat answered. "It is refreshing to see such focus and diligence."

"Happy is the man who is paid for his hobby." Lenonn grinned an age worn smile.

"Happy indeed." Dukhat agreed. "I noticed one of your ships return from patrol, anything interesting to report?"

The Rangers smile broadened, nothing escaped the watchful eye of the Chosen leader of the Council. "The usual, there has been increased activity in the League but we dare not get any closer to investigate."

"This war with the Dilgar?" Dukhat asked.

"War is one word, apocalypse may be more appropriate." Lenonn lowered his timbre. "My Rangers have aided refugees, covertly of course, it does us no good to be recognized in case the servants of the Dark ones are abroad."

"Of course my friend. What did you learn?"

"It is slaughter out there, the rumours from the Centauri were quite correct." Lenonn spoke bitterly and angrily. "The crimes against life are staggering, from the refugees we learned of whole worlds destroyed, biological weapons of unspeakable horror, mass drivers raining radioactive rocks down from above. Utter slaughter, billions of lives lost for no military gain. It is unthinkable."

Dukhat turned his head. "Is it them Lenonn, is this the work of the Shadows?"

The old Ranger sighed heavily. "In part I wish it was. For all that would mean for this world, for the Anla'shok, for the whole galaxy, I wish it was the Shadows. At least then it would be an evil we knew, a darkness from without that sows war and death because it rejoices in chaos."

Dukhat saw Lenonn's train of thought. "yet the hardest evil is that that grows in the hearts of an untouched people. Not influenced by the hand of the ancient ones, but taking that path of their own free will. To have a choice, and to make one that brings armageddon."

"The Dilgar ar enot under the sway of the Shadows, what they do they do by there own design. This is not the great war Valen said would herald the first stirrings of the Shadows."

"But how can we be sure Lenonn?" Dukhat turned away from the dancing lights outside. "How do we know this is not the conflict Valen prophesied? The timing is correct, the location is almost correct."

"Valen said the Great War would bring two races to the brink of destruction, one physically would stand on the edge of extinction, the other would stand on the brink of spiritual annihilation. While the League may well be on the edge of extinction the Dilgar are certainly not Spiritually threatened."

"No, their souls are long since blackened and ruined."

"So we believe."

"Valen also said that while the slaughter was great, the Minbari would be in the battle from the start, that our blades would open it and in so doing almost serve the purpose of the Great Enemy. This has not come to pass."

Dukhat hummed a little, his mind running through what he knew of Valens most obscure prophecies. Almost everyone knew his teachings from the youngest children to the Grey Council, they knew of his battles, his laws and declarations that were never forced upon the Minbari, just proposed and then accepted. His prophecies were less well known and often incomplete, the only one commonly known was that in a thousand years the Shadows would return to wage war on the Minbari, and that the war was almost upon them.

Yet there had been no sign of the Shadows since Valen's day, some had openly questioned whether or not they had even existed. While they were told to hush soon after it did betray a growing schism in the way Minbar should be and the way it truly was. This was still the world of Valen, but if that majestic leader were to step off the next transport right now Dukhat doubted he would be impressed.

More than anything else Dukhat wanted to restore Valens vision. If there was to be a war the Minbari must unite as one, Worker, Warrior and Religious Castes in perfect harmony building, fighting and organising the full efforts of his race. They had been disjointed in the first years of the war and the Shadows had ripped through their lines in just days when the true Black Ships had been released to aid their servants. Valen had changed that, but Dukhat could see the old divisions emerging today, and at this critical time of preparation could cost them dearly.

He had to unite them, and it had taken a supreme effort to do so. Dukhat had earned the trust and respect of the Council, of the Castes and the clans. Even the Windswords, most arrogant and ruthless of the Warriors had been forced to accept Dukhat was as wily and cunning as any general at arms. He was reforging a world, directing them, by his will and charisma he was returning the Minbari to the glory they once knew and when it was done he would lead them out of isolation to begin the task of gathering allies for the next Great war.

Already he was being lorded as the reincarnation of Valen, the new Entil'zha and greatest living Minbari, perhaps second only to Valen himself. Dukhat dismissed such cultish behaviour but there was no doubt much of what he achieved was down to a cult of personality that seemed to have formed around him. He didn't like it, but if it got the job done it was worth it. Valen had suffered the same problem.

"There is another prophecy, one Kadenn recovered just yesterday." Dukhat spoke quietly. "Sealed in a forgotten box, one he believes has not been opened since it was written. His eyes are the second to read the document, the first were Valen's."

That seemed to interest Lenonn, the old Ranger still capable of being impressed by such a discovery. "What did it say?"

"He has only just started to translate it, many words are unknown to him, almost alien. It seems to be one of the earliest of his works." Dukhat explains. "Before the Shadow war, and before the War of Regret which begins the process Valen mentions another war. He gives no detail, save that it was a war of good and evil, and the alliance of good will become our great hope in battle with the Shadows. He says the power that rises in this war will be the race that above all others we need to help us win."

"Is this race named?" Lenonn asked. "It could be any one of a dozen worlds."

"Kadenn is still looking. But it may take some time."

"In that case my friend I have one last matter of business, something which needs your attention."

"Anything for the Rangers, and of course for you Old Friend."

"Then you will need to follow me, it is not far."

Dukhat agreed, and together they left his quarters and proceeded down through the building towards the courtyard at the bottom. Each structure in the Ranger complex had a purpose and was functional, but also works of art commissioned by Valen for his chosen warriors of light. The absolute most sacred place was Valen's house itself, guarded constantly and untouched in a thousand years. The city like many others had a temple and shrine to the Entil'zha, but his actual place of dwelling was holy on a scale that dwarfed anything else on the planet. Only the great station Valen had brought with him could be considered more divine, but that had vanished as mysteriously as its owner.

They walked past the house, bowing in respect as they passed before it's doorway before heading into Lenonn's personal chapel, a place of meditation and peace set aside for the Anla'shok'na, or Ranger One. Like so many other places here had had felt the touch of Valen, seen his presence and heard his words. Now it welcomed the two latest to follow in his footsteps.

Lenonn closed the doors and led Dukhat forward, stopping before the stained glass window that in daylight showed a Ranger racing into glorious combat with a warrior of Darkness. At night it was more obscure as the dim blue light flickered beyond making the Ranger in the window look like a living ghost.

As before Dukhat bowed in respect to the dead of the last war and silently prayed in honour of their memory. When he rose his head he caught sight of something which he didn't at first accept. It was a shape, oblong and large standing taller than a man but with no limbs. It seemed to glide in front of him without so much as a sound, a massive looming shadow against the window formless and intimidating.

Dukhat was unarmed but in his youth had displayed some skill in unarmed combat, but something stopped him. An instant later Lenonn was beside him, calm and for a rare moment actually awed.

"Easy my friend. He asked to see you. He said the time was right."

Before Dukhat the shape advanced into the dimness of a flickering candle, its light serving to shine and reflect from the smooth cowl with its draped robes and long head that moved with a mixture of mechanical and organic characteristics. A green cyclopsian eye widening in the front of the unnatural head as it approached.

"Valen's name!" Dukhat gasped.

"This," Lenonn introduced. "Is Kosh Naranek, he comes to us from the far edge of our worlds. From the Vorlons."

Vorlons

The simple mention of the name tingled with childhood stories and long ingrained feelings of awe and nurture. Dukhat had recruited Kadenn, accessed the archives and set about turning up every stone, reference or fleeting image of the enigmatic race to discern what and who they were. Now one was stood here close enough to touch, staring at him.

"He contacted one of our deep patrols." Lenonn spoke, and while he was right next to Dukhat his voice was so hushed he could have been yards away. "He asked for secrecy which is why we told no one, not even the Grey Council, beside the five man crew and myself, only you know he is here."

"Why?" Dukhat whispered hoarsely, even with all his skill and power he was as overwhelmed as a schoolboy.

"Ask him." Lenonn couldn't resist a smile.

Talking to a Vorlon. The idea was as farfetched as the oldest myths yet the reality of it was right there in front of him, silent and moving gracefully to and fro in a slightly curious way, like the Vorlon himself was intrigued by the meeting. He had to do something, he had wanted this all his life, this might be his only chance to actually talk to the ancient representative. He forced the words out.

"Why are you here?"

When the Vorlon answered it spoke in a thousand voices all at once physical and ethereal, harmonised into one understandable flow of words backed by a chorus of singing and lamenting.

"Because you are ready."

The answer was as inconclusive as the ancient texts had warned.

"Ready for what?"

"Destiny."

"You were right." Lenonn spoke again. "While the Dilgar are not the harbingers of our true enemy, wheels are in motion. The slaughter they bring, the death and war, those who serve the Darkness will have noticed. They will have seen the terror and may try to turn them into warriors of the Darkness."

"This shall not happen." The Vorlon chimed.

"This is a sign, not the Dilgar, but the arrival of a Vorlon ambassador." Lenonn continued. "Our allies in Vorlon space are moving, and we must move with them."

"The time is approaching, the sun lowers towards the sea." Kosh intoned. "We must prepare the candles to light the darkness."

"So the prophecy is true, the war is coming." Dukhat stated grimly.

"Yes." The Vorlon said simply.

"We believe there are years yet." Lenonn said. "Possibly decades, but if we don't begin now we won't be ready in time."

"Valen's name." Dukhat repeated. "I knew this was coming, I could see the black clouds on the horizon. But to stand here with a Vorlon planning it, preparing to fight legends…"

"You have been preparing all your life." Kosh spoke hypnotically. "Your blood sings past glories."

Dukhat frowned. "I do not understand."

"You are a child of Valen."

Those few words caught Dukhat like a round hammer to the chest smashing the breath from his lungs.

"It… it cannot be."

Valen was known to have taken a wife, one of the great leaders of the Religious caste before his arrival and together they had a family. After the war radicals had attacked them, killing Valens wife and forcing him into hiding with his children. The Rangers had helped them to survive, but then one day Valen had departed, smiling in a way he hadn't for years as if he had finally found some peace.

He never returned, his fate still a mystery, but his children returned to society with forged identities, only the Rangers knew who they were and even they eventually lost track and forgot. Valen's line was thought to be common enough on Minbar but as no DNA had been left by the Entil'zha there was no way of finding who in the present was of Valen's line.

Unless you were a Vorlon who had fought beside him a thousand years ago.

"You are a child of Valen." The Vorlon repeated. "The blood of Valen will return, it will lead Minbar in war. It will build the army of light. It will restore the Rangers. Valen has returned in this life. In blood and in spirit."

"He has returned?" Dukhat gasped.

"Yes."

"Valen lives right now? His soul has been reborn?" Dukhat could barely form the words.

"Yes."

"Where?"

The Vorlon tilted its head. "The answer is not for now. Valen's soul and Valen's blood will reunite. The Father will meet the line of children. But this is not the time. It is destiny."

Dukhat did feel a tinge of disappointment at that news, but there was so much else happening he could not dwell on it. "How will I know him?"

"Look for the light." Kosh stated. "The relic of three times three."

"Relic." Dukhat mused. "Wait, the triluminary? In the Council?"

"Correct." Lenonn grinned. "You remember you oaths? When you were sworn into service with the Nine?"

"Yes, the triluminary was held before me, it glowed."

"It only ever glowed in the presence of Valen." Lenonn informed. "of his blood."

"And those who share his soul." Kosh added. "There are more. Find them. That is your most important task of preparation. Seek the daughter of Valen."

"A female descendant?"

"Yes."

"There could be any one of Billions."

"You will find her. You will know her." Kosh replied. "The truth points to itself."

The leader exhaled. "And our allies, we must seek our allies."

"No."

Dukhat paused. "But as you say we must prepare, we must learn all we can from the archives and gather our allies."

"No."

"No? no to which one?"

"Both." The Vorlon said. "The past is no more, do not seek knowledge there. Look to each other and the future."

"You want me to stop looking through Valen's archives?"

"Yes."

"And not to ally ourselves for war?"

"Yes."

"But why? We must prepare now, the sooner the better!"

"It is not time. Destiny informs us, guides us, enforces its will."

"What we must do," Lenonn stepped in. "Is look to ourselves first, strengthen our arms, unify our people, prepare for war."

"To continue what I have been doing?"

"Yes." Kosh answered. "You are the builder and shaper. You create that which will bring victory. You are making the foundations of the future."

"There is one more thing." Lenonn added. "The Vorlons have a task for us."

"A task?" Dukhat repeated, unsure of this new information.

"Something has developed, something which threatens their preparations."

"A threat to Destiny." Kosh said rhythmically. "We cannot act, it is not our time. It is not their time. They must be protected."

"Who? Who must be protected?"

"The slayer of gods."

"Who is that? Valen? We must act to protect the reborn Valen?"

"You must act."

"I have all the information here. Coordinates. A place in hyperspace far beyond our borders where we have never been." The Ranger said

"What must we do there?"

With a hiss the Vorlon's head piece moved, and a streak of bright light burst out turning the chapel to daylight. Dukhat had to turn away and shield his eyes, but when he force dhimself to look back, to view the beautiful and terrible sight, then he found he had no more questions and no more doubts. He looked upon the true face of a Vorlon, and all his questions were resolved, if not fully answered.

Gamma 7

Earth Force 99th Airborne Regiment

With a whistle the Mortar bombs punched a deep hole in the ground, breaking the grey concrete like an eggshell and showing the brown sol beneath. Lumps of misshapen material bounced off walls and the ground, except for one piece which caught Garibaldi's helmet.

"Son of a hell spawned…" he reeled away back behind cover of a building.

"I told you not to stick your head out Sarge!" Bugs half chided and half laughed.

The old New Yorker gave an appropriate hand gesture in response.

The Regiment had fought its way into the Dilgar complex from their landing zone amid fierce opposition. Only airstrikes and mortar teams had enabled them to make headway and even then casualties had been unfortunately high. The Dilgar were fighting tooth and nail for every inch, and these soldiers weren't the fanatics they had met and beaten of Tiree, they were professionals.

"Okay, enough standing around." Garibaldi shook his head again, his helmet had taken the brunt but he could still hear ringing in his ears. "That cluster of buildings, go."

With Bugs in the lead half the Platoon charged to their targets, the same faceless concrete pre-fabs that dotted the whole area. Without their electronic maps it would be easy to lose ones way amid the structures, almost tombstone like in their uniform greyness.

They scattered and found cover, settling low like animals between shattered materials or in shell craters already filled with a few inches of muddy water. Bugs did a quick sweep, then signalled Garibaldi over.

The Sergeant ran extremely fast, sliding into cover just moments before a fresh hail of particle fire impacted the walls and ground about them. The squad was quick to shoot back forcing the enemy to find shelter wherever they could. Unsurprisingly the Dilgar continued firing with even greater vigour.

"This is just getting dumb." Garibaldi winced, small pieces of warm concrete dropping around him. "Be nice to go six yards without having to shoot something."

"Ammo is still good, about a third left overall." Bugs reported. "But at the rate we're shooting it…"

"Yeah, I know." Garibaldi nodded. "Crowbar to Red Leader, we need some fire, fifty yards North of our current position."

The first part of the response was lost in static as a Dilgar grenade exploded mere feet away, splattering the hunched troops in mud. "…Five rounds, on their way."

"Red Platoon! Incoming!" Garibaldi announced. "Get ready to go!"

As part of their equipment the 99th had brought a platoon of automated Mortars. The principles hadn't changed in centuries, it was a simple upright tube that fired small bombs on a ballistic trajectory. The difference here was the mortars were entirely crewless. All they needed was to be set up pointing vaguely at the enemy, then fed coordinates through the battlenet to fire on. Small servo motors adjusted elevation and traverse, then fired a selected number of rounds from a large fifty bomb magazine tied into the base.

Very cheap, very easy to use, and no need to risk gunners to counter battery fire. The six tubes whirred and moved, sliding a little in the mud and compensating with their in built gyro stabilisers. With a final turn the first of the bombs slid out of the magazine, crossed the firing pin and were propelled skyward with a pop of air and jet of smoke.

The rounds were small but packed a nasty punch, the barrage consisted of thirty individual shots that fell in a grouped pattern where Garibaldi wanted them. The human forces stayed down, just in case one fell short and landed on them. Technology aside accidents still happened and in the environment of a battlefield when both sides were lobbing tons of munitions with abandon, things could get uncommonly messy.

The impacts rocked Garibaldi despite being a good distance away. Dirty blobs of wet earth showered down as the mortars made their target, some detonating as they hit while others were fused to explode ten feet up and shower jagged metal down on the heads of the Dilgar.

The sealed helmets certainly helped keep the sound out, but the rumble and crack of the explosions still managed to penetrate to a degree and assaulted the hearing of the platoon.

The final three rounds were smoke shells, usually a good method of covering an advance but in the torrential down pour the clouds would be gone in seconds, turning into just white coloured water on the ground. They had very little time to use.

"First squad! On your feet!" The Sergeant commanded, himself leading the way. "Second squad, flank right! Get it in gear people!"

Rising up from the mud the dirt streaked soldiers rushed forward on the uneven ground, spread out and ragged to avoid one explosion killing a handful of close bunched men. The passed through the cloud of artificial smoke, much of the substance sticking to their uniforms as they charged over broken walls and roads, making a final leap into the pits the Dilgar had been using.

At once Garibaldi threw himself down, following his training and always seeking cover. It was lucky he did, two Dilgar soldiers had survived and though streaked with blood and grime they held their ground. As Garibaldi ducked and rolled the rest of the squad jumped down into the wet hollow and instantly reacted, spraying the two survivors with plasma fire.

"Check for more!" Bugs ordered.

"Second squad dug in." Reported Corporal Harlow. "Right side clear."

"Confirm." Garibaldi said. "We've got to be close to the objective now, where are we?"

"We're at a pumping station, well, what's left of it." Tucker answered.

"Pump for what?"

"Fuel." The other soldier replied. "There are some underground fuel bunkers around here."

"Fuel huh?"

"I know what you're thinking." Tucker chuckled slightly. "Hardened against airstrikes."

"So much for fireworks." The Sergeant shrugged. "It means we're coming up on the heaviest defences, fixed bunkers and heavy weapons nests. We'll advance slow and steady, no need to…"

with nothing more than a whizzing sound that lasted a fraction of a second, something fast moving tore into the ruins beside them with a shattering explosion, throwing the nearby troops down.

"Ah great! Now what?"

"Dilgar Armour, Puma type!" a voice reported, indistinguishable in the confusion.

Something else exploded, just audible was the quiet whine of the engine getting closer.

"They hid that well." Tucker growled.

"Dom!" Garibaldi checked in. "Dead yet?"

"No sir!" The young soldier answered firmly.

"Hammer time kid, get your ass up here and do something useful!"

Private Dom Hannigan had the unenviable job of squad tank hunter, equipped with a pair of Hammer anti tank missiles he was well equipped for the job, but no one really liked hauling the extra weight. That was why the new guy always ended up doing it.

He skittered through the rubble like some sort of insect, leaping gracefully over craters, stepping too and fro over large pieces of rubble and keeping remarkable balance. The sight brought a slight laugh to the Sergeant.

"Hey, Princess Ballet, over here!"

He changed heading, cringing as another shot hit the ground in a splash of dark liquid, before dropping next to the Sergeant and friends.

"Okay Dom, you need to get a shot over that wall." Garibaldi said. "Bugs will create a diversion."

"I will?" The Corporal said in surprise.

"Yeah, now get out there and divert. Dom, don't miss."

"I thought it was impossible to miss with these things?" The young man pulled one of the tubes from his pack. "That they were state of the art?"

"Garibaldi huffed in wry amusement. "Please, everything you have was made by the lowest bidder. Now go and try not to let Bugs get killed, his Mom would kill me."

The two men slunk off, slapping through the mud and scrambling over concrete. It took them no time to reach the broken wall that had once been the north side of the now flat pumping station, metal machinery lay in pieces everywhere, and the Dilgar vehicle was happy to smash more of the broken mechanics with its fire.

"Alright, you wait here." Bugs said. "I'm going through that gap to make him look this way, then when I say so, jump up and blow his ass sky high."

"What are you going to do?"

"I was thinking the Chicken Dance." Bugs answered. "Maybe the Mambo."

"What?" Dom gaped.

"Well what did you think I was going to do?" Bugs gave him a slap on the arm. "I'm going to run for my damn life! Do. Not. Miss."

He scampered away leaving Dom by himself. Breathing fast he armed the missile, the simple tube unfolding slightly to balance the device in side. The aiming system was simple, all Dom had to do was designate a target, pull the trigger, then run. The missile was a fire and forget device, once it had a target that was it, no escape unless they brought the weapon down with gunfire.

"Dom, do you copy?" Bugs checked in.

"I hear you."

"I'm going now, be very, very ready."

"Okay, all set."

"Damn this is the stupidest thing ever." The Corporal exhaled. "Here goes nothing."

Without further ado Bugs broke cover and ran out into the open, a hundred yards ahead driving slowly down the remains of a road was the Dilgar Puma. What the Dilgar actually called it was a mystery, but the human military simply chose to label all Dilgar vehicles with big cat names, which seemed to make a measure of sense.

The multiwheeled vehicle wouldn't stand a chance against a Thor tank, indeed the light armour fighting with the Rangers and Gurkhas at the other end of the base would probably defeat one in a straight fight. But the 99th didn't have any handy vehicles and couldn't wait for one to show up.

Bugs fired on the front of the Puma, his rifle fire doing nothing other than attract attention, which was pretty much the whole point. It's small turret swung his way, the particle bolter looking for him while the larger fletchette cannon reloaded.

"Dom! Kill it! Kill it now!" The Corporal yelled, already diving for the roadside.

He held his breath, then rose up and looked over the wall. The Puma was right beside him on more than ten yards away, far closer than he had expected. The missile he was carrying was rated to destroy the best tanks Earth used, which in turn where as good as ground armour got in the known galaxy. Shooting such a potent device at such close range was not advisable.

But he had to, if he didn't Bugs would be killed and now the Puma knew he was here, he'd be finished too. He took just a second to aim, press the designate button, then fire.

At the range he was firing at the missile didn't get a chance to lock on, it just flew clean into the side of the Dilgar vehicle and exploded. Dom had fallen to the ground after firing but the speed of the missile meant it was already detonating before he was halfway back.

The heat washed over him and the gust pushed him flat on the ground pressing him hard into the debris and uneven concrete. It was excruciating, but at least the pain reminded him he wasn't actually dead.

He might have laid there for an hour looking up at the rain falling on his face plate, projected in clear holographic detail to his eyes. More likely it was just a minute until the grey sky was replaced by a man in battle gear looking down on him.

"Wakey wakey Princess, Dilgar don't shoot themselves you know."

"Yes Sarge, sorry Sarge."

Garibaldi offered a helping hand and pulled the young man to his feet, over the wall the hollowed out Dilgar armoured vehicle was still a roaring inferno.

"Wow, I really nailed him." Dom said with a hint of pride.

"And then some, I saw it's turret land somewhere over there." Garibaldi waved generally behind them. "Bugs says thanks, and you should have fired sooner."

Both Dom and the Sergeant laughed a little, a sound that faded rapidly as another individual arrived.

Even with his face hidden Captain Franklin was at once recognizable, his broad form stomping over the rough ground like a mythical warrior of old, displaying no fear or even the slightest doubt. A few stray shots still seared past now and again prompting the Platoon members to duck and look around. Franklin never so much as flinched.

"Captain, area secured." Garibaldi reported.

"Thankyou Sergeant." Franklin acknowledged, then looked briefly at the tank. "Your handiwork?"

"Dom sir."

Franklin stared at the younger soldier, his face hidden behind his helmet. "Nice work soldier, we'll get you a tank killer badge when we get back."

The Earth Force officer moved a bit further forward, then opened his visor to reveal his face, letting a few rain drops freshen his senses.

"Sir, we didn't expect you this far up." Garibaldi spoke.

"I'm not one for sending troops in where I wouldn't go myself." Franklin replied. "I wanted to get a first hand look of what we're up against."

He took a pair of binoculars from around his neck and carefully swept them back and forth.

"As I thought, the airstrikes had no effect." He grunted in annoyance but not surprise. "We can't take those bunkers."

He raised his binoculars and saw their objective, a lattice tower and squat building housing the communication centres.

"Mortars sir?" Garibaldi wondered.

"Not against those defences." The Captain shook his head. "Might as well spit on them. We need demolition charges, but the Dilgar have this ground well covered. We'd be dead before we got close."

"And the rain is killing our smoke screens." Garibaldi remembered. "Wait for Armour?"

"I'll bet the Dilgar have enough anti tank weapons over there to punch all our vehicles. No Sergeant, we need a plan B, one that doesn't kill us all."

A Valkyrie gunship roared overhead, flying into the distance spraying plasma fire in support of another element of the regiment fighting several hundred yards away.

"No one is making headway, all our companies are bogged down." Franklin stated grimly. "We need a breach in these lines."

"Yes sir, but I don't see much we can use."

The three men glanced around, looking at the ruined pumping station and the tangled machinery around them.

"Was this the pumping station?" Franklin asked.

"Yes sir, linked to the underground fuel tanks." Garibaldi said. "I thought we could bomb the tanks, but they are supposed to be missile proof."

"The machinery is shot too sir." Bugs arrived on the scene. "Or we could have hosed those bunkers down with rocket fuel and put a match to them."

"Now that is really too bad." Garibaldi grinned malevolently. "Fried Dilgar just sounds so appropriate."

Franklin stopped near the pump, looking at the floor.

"Something sir?"

"The pump is dead." Franklin noted. "But this pipe here, it runs underground."

"It must connect with the fuel tanks, where they draw it up from." Bugs guessed. "looks like a straight line angled down and across."

Garibaldi started to grin widely, seeing where this was going. "Can I interest you in a missile Captain?"

Within a few seconds Dom was handing over his last anti tank missile to Captain Franklin who expertly unfolded it and began tapping in some instructions.

"I'm disabling the impact fuse, and setting a timer." He announced. "Hopefully it will bounce down the pipe, smash into whatever valves are at the bottom, then explode under a fuel tank."

"Which the defence line is on top of." Garibaldi was still grinning. "Bye bye bunkers."

"Then we advance, attack the defences from behind and let the rest of the Regiment through." Franklin confirmed. "Speed is important here, we must act before they can recover."

"The platoon is ready to go sir." Garibaldi said proudly. "Hell and back Captain."

"Very good Sergeant. Now then, lets open the gates."

Franklin knelt by the truncated pipe and held the missile at it's end.

"Stand back, if this doesn't actually work… well it won't be pretty."

The surrounding men made for cover, sheltering where they could while Franklin lined up the weapon.

"Fire in the hole!" He shouted, and he really meant it.

Then he fired the missile, and on a white tail the anti tank weapon raced down the pipe with an ear splitting scream magnified by the confines.

At once Franklin ran for his life, if it worked he was expecting a fairly sizeable jet of flame to blow through the pipe too, and it wasn't healthy to stand near.

The screech of the missile grew dimmer as it travelled down the pipe, its smoke trail fading and disappearing, then so too did the noise of its passage. Nothing happened, everything went silent except for the sounds of distant battle.

"Did it work?" Dom asked.

He was answered in the positive when the ground heaved beneath his feet, seeming to physically lift a couple of inches and jolt up debris and water like a snapping elastic band. As expected the pipe acted like a funnel, a jet of burning fuel shooting out like a massive flame thrower spraying liquid fire hundreds of feet into the distance.

The Platoon kept its collective heads well down, except for Dom who watched in utter amazement as a hundred yard wide area of the Dilgar defence line sunk into the ground like the planet was swallowing them up. The fell a few yards down before the descent stopped and with a gargantuan belch of flame and heat the subterranean fuel tanks released their power.

The Bunkers, the wire, the weapons nests, the ground itself dissolved into pure white brilliant flame. Even at this distance Dom could feel it, a roaring inferno like the gates of hell had been flung open by the hordes that dwelt within. Everything stopped, even the rain.

But it seemed there had been a miscalculation. Behind the inferno a second erupted with equal fury, then a third and forth. More walls of flame burst up and out, rising from their pits and searing the sky. There wasn't much debris raining down, the force had pulverised it so small it was just ash and dust.

There had been more than just the two expected fuel tanks, in all eight underground stores were ignited, destroying everything for a mile square in front of the 99th. In the final giant leap of flame the communications building, their objective, vanished in the tumult. Wiped from view and then from existence as millions of gallons of highly flammable fuel swept it into oblivion.

"Whoah." Dom managed to say as the sequential explosions died down.

"Yeah." Garibaldi agreed, raising his head. "Yeah, I think that covers it."

The whole sector they were meant to assault was a burning sea of flames, nothing was left, just the inferno and the hissing rain evaporating above it.

"I'm sending this to the book of records." Tucker remarked. "Luckiest shot ever."

"Well the Captain just topped you on the baddass-ometer." Bugs told Garibaldi apologetically. "Sorry Crowbar, but damn that was too cool!"

Franklin stepped through the rain, avoiding the still spewing fountain of flame from the pipe. He walked over as if nothing at all had just happened.

"Our Primary objective is complete, time to move on to the secondary one."

"Yes sir, Red Platoon standing by." Garibaldi reported formally. "Hell of a firestorm sir."

The Captain observed his achievement for a few moments. "Yes, that did go better than I expected."

Garibaldi held back a laugh. "That's an understatement sir."

"We still have a job to do, while the Nine-Nine can rely on my pure dripping awesome the Rangers aren't so lucky." Franklin said in stern tones, letting the small slippage of humour go round the Platoon.

"Ready to go sir." Garibaldi confirmed. "We'll show those nancy boys how it's done sir."

"Very well Sergeant, action this day. Move out."


	71. Chapter 71

70

Omelos

Dilgar Homeworld

"I have a meeting in five minutes, so this will be a brief distraction."

Ari'shan nodded as he trotted along beside Warmaster Jha'dur within the enclosed confines of a Battlecruiser. The ship was busy, crew members carrying boxes back and forth as the vessel rapidly took on fresh stores so it could return to duty as soon as possible. He squeezed past a stack of food crates taking up three quarters the width of the corridor, allowing the Warmaster to go first, then fell in again beside her.

"If I may speak freely Warmaster?" He asked cautiously.

"Naturally Commander."

"I had heard you had taken the responsibilities of Supreme Warmaster?"

"Correct."

"But not the title?"

Jha'dur shook her head, but did not break pace. "Gar'shan remains the Supreme Warmaster in name and fact, I am exercising his powers until he recovers."

"I understand." Ari replied. "But I also heard the council is three members down?"

"Not quite, I am speaking on behalf of my brother, Len'char and your Father."

"So you have four votes in Council matters?"

Jha'dur shared a smile. "Yes, it does seem that way doesn't it."

Ari approached the next question with a little trepidation. "Is that, well, legal?"

She did not answer straight away, stepping over a pulsing pipe feeding some liquid or another deep through the ship.

"This is war Ari. Anything I say becomes law."

Ari'shan knew there was something deeply wrong about that. It wasn't a new feeling, this sense of deep seated unease he was experiencing had been with him since Jha'dur had reawakened. It wasn't surprising, her whole life had fallen apart around her ears and she now faced the task of rebuilding it and running an Empire and winning a war.

Anyone would be a wreck after that, emotionally destroyed and likely to end up in care for months if not years. Yet Jha'dur had picked herself up, cleaned up the Council, and now was hurrying about putting the fleet back on a real war footing. It was amazing, and impossible.

Jha'dur was a lot of things and in many ways a superior specimen of the Dilgar race, but she was still flesh and blood. She still had feelings, emotions, insecurities, all of which had been blasted wide open by her brother's death. No one could just walk away from that intact, not even the Deathwalker.

Nobody else seemed to notice, or perhaps they just didn't care. Jha'dur won battles, and that was all that mattered, so what if she lost her mind in the process? Provided the war was won in the end nobody was going to miss a rival Warmaster.

The problem with that of course was that a mentally unstable Warmaster with the power Jha'dur had was quite possibly the most dangerous thing in the galaxy. If she really hadn't recovered, if she was not as calm and directed as she appeared on the outside, the consequences could be unthinkable.

As her friend and adopted brother, perhaps one of only two people who could claim to care about her, he had to try and do something.

"With respect Warmaster, this is beginning to sound like a dictatorship."

Jha'dur chuckled. "You say that as if it was a bad thing?"

"That much power in one persons hands… it has never ended well Warmaster."

"Don't you trust me Ari?"

"Of course I do." He answered by rote. He trusted Jha'dur, but he simply couldn't be sure he was still talking to that same woman anymore. "It's just… just that people can make mistakes, and if you listen to others those mistakes can be avoided."

"You're telling me to listen to the other Warmasters?" She raised an eyebrow. "That collection of back stabbing morons who wouldn't know a Bolt cannon from a latrine?"

"Not all of them, but Dar'sen for example."

Jha'dur grunted in acknowledgement. "Dar'sen I trust. And your brother, and An'jash. I listen to their advice because I know it is given honestly."

"And me?"

She gave him a slightly surprised look. "Of course you Ari! There was a time I might have called you my conscience."

"And now?"

"Warmasters don't need a conscience."

Jha'dur came to a halt beside a large set of doors.

"We're here."

Ari'shan stood beside her. "A cargo bay?"

"This ship has just come back from probing the Earth borders, with it's battlegroup it managed to intercept a lightly guarded convoy, just four ships, but quite a lucky catch."

She pressed the release and the doors grumbled into life, geared wheels pulling them apart as three inch thick metal parted left and right. His curiosity peaked Ari'shan stared into the dimly lit bay, and what he saw caught his breath.

Revealed in the centre of the bay was a brutish looking object suspended on a grey metal rack. Blunt nosed with four crossed wings and large engines mounted at its extremities. It was a sight he had seen before on a couple of occasions, the stubby barrelled guns protruding from it's chin gave him a moment of uncomfortable reflection. Last time he had been this close to them he had almost died.

"Earth Force Starfury."

"Nova class, brand new." Jha'dur confirmed. "Presumably a replacement being delivered to the front lines."

Ari moved closer, letting his eyes move over the bleak grey hull, the tags printed in red and yellow giving warning in an alien language. It had no unit markings and none of the gaudiness many human pilots chose to decorate their craft with. This object, this weapon was unclaimed and hence unfulfilled in its role as a fighter.

"We recovered four of them." Jha'dur spoke with a hint of a smile, relishing the wonder in Ari'shan's eyes. Like a child with a long sought after gift. "I'm transferring them to the station under your command."

"Work of art." He ran his hand on one of the massive engines. "Simple perfection, a warriors tool."

"I thought you'd like it." The Warmaster laughed. "Take them, give them to your best pilots and fly them to their limits. Find their strengths, weaknesses, flaws. Find out how to beat them, then make your report."

"Understood Warmaster."

"A good fighter needs a good pilot." She said. "I think this one found the best it could."

"Just the second best." Ari'shan replied. "The best already has one of these."

Jha'dur nodded quietly. "You know where to find me, you've earned a little indulgence. Enjoy your new steed."

Jha'dur left the young pilot to his own devices, while he was obviously enthralled by the human fighter her gift served a very practical purpose too. They needed to know how to beat these human craft, and if anyone could push these Starfuries to breaking point it was going to be Ari'shan.

She left the Battlecruiser, taking the short trip over to Orbital Command, a hefty star shaped battle station located above the Capital city responsible for command and control in the home system. It was as formidable a battlestation as the Dilgar could build, yet couldn't hope to match the fortresses thrown up by the Abbai and Hyach. Still, it served its purpose.

Her private shuttle docked with the station and she quickly left it behind, proceeding briskly through the tiny corridors to the main briefing room. She entered with no pause and took her seat, acknowledging the two other officers joining her in the room.

In addition to serving as a communications hub the station was also home to the Dilgar Military Intelligence Command, a group often overlooked in the past but thanks to Jha'dur currently undergoing a massive overhaul.

The two other officers consisted of Captain Sa'goth of the Intelligence Service, and Captain An'jash, aide to the Warmaster.

"Greetings An'jash." Jha'dur sat down, allowing the other two to also take their seats. "It's good to see you back on duty."

"Likewise Warmaster." The unusually white haired female replied. Both of them had been badly injured during the Battle of Markab, An'jash somewhat less so than Jha'dur, but still enough to put her in hospital for over a month.

"I am assembling as many of the command staff who survived as I can." Jha'dur continued. "I trust you will serve beside me again?"

"Without question Warmaster."

"It seems our Dreadnought will be out of action for some time, I will arrange a new ship for us."

"Yes Warmaster." An'jash answered, easily slipping back into her familiar duties. Often she considered herself no more than a sounding board for Jha'dur's thought processes, not that she minded of course. In her time she had learned more by watching and listening to the Warmaster than she had in all her military service before that transfer of duty.

"Then we will proceed to Mitoc and make ready for battle."

"I will look forward to it, Warmaster."

"But before then, what do we have on the intelligence front?"

Sa'goth stood and took his cue, slightly nervous before Jha'dur as most officers tended to be he never the less buried his qualms well and spoke with confidence.

"Warmaster, with the additional funding and personnel we have been making progress, unfortunately I cannot give you the success you might be expecting."

Jha'dur smiled slightly. "You have only had a few months Captain, I'm not expecting you to break the human intelligence networks so quickly. In fact I'd be surprised if you managed it before the war ended."

"Well, I see Warmaster." The Captain looked a little confused. "But we will make every effort."

"I don't doubt it, now tell me your progress so far."

"We have been able to identify the protocols humans use for their signals traffic, and have intercepted a large number of signals."

"That is progress."

"Yes Warmaster, the difficulty comes in deciphering them." Sa'goth continued. "We have learned humans have three levels of encryption, what they call Gold, Silver and Bronze."

"Different systems for different priorities?" An'jash wondered.

"Yes Captain, similar to our own protocols."

"What specifics have you uncovered?"

Sa'goth drummed up some notes.

"The Bronze Channel is used for low priority signals. We managed to break it eventually after a great deal of effort, even though it is for non secret transmissions the encryption was still military grade, better than the average League signals."

"Or our own." Jha'dur recognized. "Go on."

"We've broken the base encryption and can read Bronze channels at will. The humans alter the codes every week but by this point we know the system, it is easy enough to compensate for."

"What have you found?"

"Sadly nothing of a critical level."

He activated the video screen, the image displaying an average human talking into the camera. Jha'dur did not understand his language, placing it as Mandarin by the approximate sounds. She had only become fluent in English.

"Our translators showed this was a message to his family." The Intelligence Officer narrated, switching to other similar recordings. "Likewise these too. We also intercepted the Earth Force News bulletin, again nothing critical."

Jha'dur watched the screen thoughtfully. "The volume of traffic is in itself a clue, the more traffic, the more people there to use it. That tells us where the Earth fleets are concentrated."

Sa'goth nodded. "yes, I suppose it does."

"What else?"

"Next is the Silver channels." He added. "I'm afraid we have less success here, the encryption is superior to our own highest levels."

An'jash glanced quickly at Jha'dur, who showed no surprise.

"What progress Captain?"

"It seems that not only to the codes change every six hours, but that the entire basis of the encryption changes too on a random basis. It isn't a task of simply finding and breaking one method of encryption, we have to beat, at last count, sixteen."

"They really don't want us getting in there." Jha'dur smiled.

"We can think of no reason to put in sixteen different random patterns, four or five would be too much."

"These are humans Captain, there is no such thing as overkill." The Warmaster grinned.

"We have however managed to beat a few of their base encryptions, so whenever it is used in the cycle of sixteen we can read their signals."

"How frequently?"

"Twenty to thirty percent of the time."

"What has it revealed?"

"The Silver channels seem to be for military communication, but still non critical. Things like transfers, supply requisitions, status reports."

"Again useful, let's us see their balance of strength."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Now." Jha'dur leaned forward. "Gold Channels?"

"Regrettably Warmaster, we have no insight into these signals."

She shrugged. "Understandable, I expect these are the real prize, military orders, convoy routes, battle plans."

"Yes Warmaster, we've tracked these grade signals coming from individual ships and bases, including what we believe to be Human Military Command at Earth."

"Anything at all?"

"We know they change their codes at least every half hour, probably after very signal." Sa'goth answered. "And they have subchannel I.D's buried in there to keep us from forging orders if we ever did break in."

"Impressive." Jha'dur nodded. "It's all a cycle Captain, a bit like supply and demand."

"I'm not sure I follow Warmaster?"

"The humans are competitive, like us." She said. "You don't simply invent this type of security, there has to be a need for it. What is that need?" The question was rhetorical of course. "Code breakers. You see it through their history, someone invents a device, then someone else creates a way to defeat it. So then comes another better defence, and then a better attack, defence, attack, defence, attack. A long rising cycle of competition."

"So you mean the reason they have this level of encryption, is because anything less would be defeated by the previous generation of code breakers?"

"Precisely Captain."

Sa'goth did not like the idea of that. "If humans have code breakers that are a threat to these Gold Channels, and these channels are superior to our own security…"

"Then it is likely our network is already compromised by Earth Intelligence." Jha'dur agreed. "I had suspected as much, but this confirms it."

"They've been reading our orders all this time." An'jash snarled. "No wonder they are one step ahead of us!"

"We need to warn the fleets." Sa'goth said. "Implement new protocols."

"We will do no such thing." Jha'dur answered simply.

"But Warmaster, if they can read our highest level transmissions…"

"It gives us a tool, an advantage." Jha'dur observed sharply. "We change nothing, standard orders will go through standard channels. However, all messages relating to Operation Hell's Gate will be dispatched by courier, on paper, in sealed cases."

"Going to make it a lengthy proces Warmaster." An'jash said.

"Yes, but secure." She responded. "If we implement a new set of codes Earth wil eventually break them. Captain Sa'goth, you will create a new encryption, one Earth will not be able to beat for a long time. But do not implement it until after we launch our counter offensive."

"Yes Warmaster."

Jha'dur stood from her chair and went to the video screen, still showing humans.

"I apologise for not breaking the Human master encryption." Sa'goth said.

"You have done your job well captain, no shame in that." The Warmaster answered.

"I'm afraid this information is next to useless."

"Oh far from it Captain." Jha'dur answered. "These messages show us a glimpse into humanity. For all their ships and missiles, these people are their true strength. And as I have taught you all an enemies greatest strength is also often their greatest weakness."

She watched the humans, listened to them.

"These messages give us an insight into their morale, their mindset. They tell us what humans think of Dilgar, League and their commanders. They tell us if our tactics are working, how confident they are, and most importantly why they are fighting."

"Surely they fight because they are told to do so?"

"On one level yes." Jha'dur nodded. "But on a deper level they fight because they feel a need to. They have something to protect, or a wrong to right, or a great enemy to defeat. That is tremendously important Captain, it might just be the key to winning this war."

She stepped back.

"At least we have the intelligence agency we need. You have your orders Captain, my compliments to your team."

"Thank you Warmaster."

"I think I'm beginning to understand now." Jha'dur glanced once more at the screen. "This is a new war, war so complete every fibre of a world and soul must be dedicated to it. War of the soul. Should be interesting."

Hyperspace

Approaching Brakir

"I hate Hyperspace, I mean I really do."

Lieutenant Commander April Green smiled and looked out of the canopy, while she couldn't see the man she could see the Starfury he flew in the distance.

"Come on Bill, can't be that bad."

"Stars I can deal with, but this?" The novice pilot grumbled. "It's like a motion sickness, all this swirly stuff and whatever."

"You ever think that joining the army might have been smarter?" She teased. "A motion sick fighter pilot just tickles on so many levels."

"Bill, listen up." A male voice cut in. "If you're getting sick just watch your scanners. Nice and plain, and they'll keep you from flying into the side of anything."

"See, smart advice from the Commander." April said approvingly, "Me? I'd just mock you."

"Lot of people get the crazies out here." Commander Sinclair added. "You get used to it, but it does play tricks on you. Watch your instruments, you don't want to stray out here."

"Yeah, only takes a minute." April agreed. "Happened to a guy in my old unit, I mean you just look away for a few moments and you hit a current or gravity eddy. Hell of a way to go."

"Hell of a way." Sinclair agreed. "You wonder how many Ghost ships there are out there, ships that went off beacon and never made it back."

"Hard to imagine what you'd do." Bill Hague said. "When your air runs out."

"Long, lonely death." Sinclair said.

"Hey guys, not to break up the doom laden conversation, but maybe we should talk about happier things?" April suggested. "Like how good it is that the Commander is back?"

That at least was something the Squadron was united on. David Sinclair had been given a clean bill of health, his ribs healed and no internal damage. His desperate sling shot at Markab at taken its toll, but to his good luck nothing had been permanent.

"Oh yeah, great being out here and not in bed surrounded by pretty nurses." The Commander quipped.

"You know you wouldn't change it." April shot back. "It's in your blood Dave, you don't fool me."

That part was true enough, ever since mankind had invented powered flight there had been a Sinclair sat in a cockpit trying to shoot some other guy out of the sky. Before that they had to be satisfied with riding horses in the cavalry, charging over battlefields. There had been a Sinclair riding with the Scot's Greys at Waterloo, and another with the Light Brigade forty years later. Through three world wars, countless minor conflicts, and in the case of his father dogfighting Aliens for the first time. Maybe he did have a naturally affinity for the speed and reflexes necessary for his career, or maybe he was just damn lucky.

"Well maybe, but only because I'm a married man."

"How is Gemma?" April asked. "Teacher wasn't she?"

"Lecturer at Mars University." Sinclair corrected. "Like a teacher, but different."

"How different?"

"About thirty thousand credits a year."

There were a couple of chuckles, all of which rapidly fell off as the squadron frequency crackled to life.

"Fleet command to all units, form up for jump. This is not a drill, set condition one and prepare for attack orders."

"Well ladies and gentlemen, that's our call to arms." Sinclair remarked dryly. "Looks like you won't have to put up with hyperspace much longer Bill."

"No sir, just people trying to kill me."

"Well there is that." The Commander answered. "You're on my wing again, you know the drill by now."

"Yes sir, stick like glue."

"The Brakiri Garrison is supposed to be second rate ships, but I'm sure we've heard that before. Expect the best."

The Squadron sounded a chorus in the affirmative.

"Our job today is pure interception, no nurse maiding, no escort." Sinclair relayed. "Wolves among the sheep people, keep your speed high to avoid defensive fire but don't accelerate too much, don't want you overshooting the whole damn battle."

He lined up with one of the cruisers near the front of the group, setting the squadron together to use its jump point to enter real space.

"Stay tight until we're through the vortex, then break into combat spacing and follow me. This is a real fight today people, billions of Brakiri are counting on us to do a good job, lets not let them, and our own world, be disappointed by our efforts. Good luck."

Earth Force had invested a thousand ships into this operation, considerably more than was truly necessary but for Hamato there was more to this than simply driving away the Dilgar. The hosts of warships Earth had funded after the Persephone incident when conflict with the Dilgar became inevitable were finally complete, crewed with fresh recruits who joined on the first day of the war, plus a liberal scattering of promoted officers from other fleets earning their first commands.

While these crews benefited from excellent training there was no substitute to real combat time to give a ship its edge and allow people to get to grips with the stress and quick pace of real warfare. To that end this stage of the war also served as a sort of proving ground to give the new Earth Fleets a taste of action without the hard fighting of the early campaign.

Of the Eight fleets Earth Force currently commanded the First and Second were remaining behind to patrol and guard the Alliance itself. They were a strategic reserve of trained ships and crews, but also a highly potent deterrent in case some of Earth's neighbours took this opportunity to strike the Alliance.

The Third and Forth fleets remained at Bestine as a forward reserve in case something went wrong, available to assist either of the Earth Expeditions pushing into League space. One such force was heading for Ipsha, consisting of the Veteran Fifth and Rookie Seventh fleets. The Ipsha had fought well against the Dilgar, using their advanced ships and extremely dangerous local space to stifle and drive back any assaults. The Dilgar wisely chose not to bother.

Once they were done with the Ipsha, which was more a formality than a liberation, they would go to Cascor, and there they would no doubt be greatly welcomed. Like their neighbours the Cascor were heavily engaged throwing fighters and satellites at the Dilgar garrison fleet to prevent them bombing the planet from orbit. Intelligence had predicted Cascor military losses to be extreme, yet they had not stopped fighting for all these months.

In a similar position were the Brakiri, and it was the job of Admiral Ferguson's hardened Sixth fleet and General Fontaines newly constituted Eighth fleet to handle the job. Both forces followed the standard Earth Force model, a core of Dreadnoughts and Cruisers surrounded by smaller escort ships and a couple of Carrier groups to extend additional fighter support. The ships and fighters had proven themselves in battle, so it was the turn of the new crews to show what they had.

It was not the most auspicious of beginnings. The hyperspace Vortexes drilled through the fabric of normality and gave passage between realms, emptying hundreds of vessels and fighters into the bleakness of inner system space. With the Earth Force ships came a flotilla of Markab and Vree ships, now staple parts of the allied navy.

Unfortunately the jump grouping was terrible, making an accurate jump point from Hyperspace into real space was more luck than skill, but there was still an element of science to it. Earth Forces ships could usually plot a jump to within ten miles, a good crew could time it to within five miles. Unfortunately the Eighth didn't make either target. Their entry happened more or less simultaneously but at least half the force missed their jump vectors by up to a hundred miles, one cruiser came out of hyperspace an embarrassing six thousand miles away. It was lucky no ships had come out of hyperspace on top of each other, in Earth history that had only happened once but the nightmare stories of that incident were still drilled into every fleet officer.

Admiral Ferguson ran a large hand over his red hair with a look of restrained exasperation as the data fed in. "I knew they should have tried some more fleet drill. Get me a channel."

"Ready sir."

"Charlemagne to Stonewall, are you receiving?"

"This is Dreadnought Stonewall." The gruff and truncated words of General Fontaine filtered through, fitting Fergusons mental image of the bulldog like officer. "We ballsed up the jump."

"It happens, at least you kept in the right system."

"We're well out of formation." Fontaine growled in obvious displeasure. "A prepared enemy would have had a field day splitting us up and kicking our asses!"

"We jumped far enough out that the Dilgar can't get to us before we form up." Ferguson calmed. "Assemble your ships, advance by task force on my right flank. We'll take the brunt of the attack but be prepared to fight."

"Yes sir." Fontaine grunted. "After that display we need to wash away the disgrace!"

"Just stay with me General, we're all still learning out here. Standard attack speed, deploy fighters on combat patrol, and watch for trouble."

He ended the message, Fontaine was an old officer but had only recently being promoted from commanding a battle squadron. While the principles were the same there was a big jump from commanding ten ships to commanding five hundred. Again Ferguson would be happier if the General and his ships had more time to practice drill and exercises, but with the Brakiri on the edge of collapse time was not on their side. So they attacked, and hopefully the Eighth fleet would simply be spectators in this grand event.

As the sensor data came in from the Oracle class scout ships that assessment began to look more and more likely. The Dilgar fleet was a hollow and shrunken force, barely two hundred ships no larger than a cruiser, the mighty Dreadnoughts absent from the guard force. Sending over twelve hundred ships was obscene overkill, but in addition to the necessity of giving the new crews their first 'safe' battle Hamato still didn't know if the Dilgar main forces would counter attack.

The Dilgar still had a very large very potent fleet based at Mitoc. Intelligence was watching them like hawks, scout ships and long range probes keeping tabs on where they went and what they did. At this point they had done nothing, but Hamato wasn't expecting the Dilgar to just sit idly back as he liberated the League.

Splitting his fleet was a risk, however Hamato was confident he could move his reserves in time to whichever flank was threatened and meet the Dilgar with the fight of their lives. Meanwhile the unengaged flank would walk through the Mitoc defences and siege the planet from afar, using missiles and rail guns to pick off its defences at minimal risk to their own ships.

Sooner or later the Dilgar had to give battle, if they attacked now Hamato would smash them and drive them straight back to Omelos, he knew it and he strongly suspected the Dilgar knew it too. If they waited too long though it would simply buy the allies more time to build ships, liberate bottled up League forces and greatly increase their own strength, again all but guaranteeing victory. It was a cycle the Dilgar could not break, unless they somehow achieved a staggering victory over Earth Force.

But for now there were no warnings, no fleets crossing the beacons, just an emaciated rear guard of light ships for the fleet to play with.

"Ghost lead to Squadron, target information coming through." Sinclair read the information scrolling across his computer, data uplinked from the Electronic Warfare ships and Fleet Command giving him up to date positions on enemy ships and prioritising them. His fighter didn't have the processing power to handle the millions of calculations necessary for real time battle planning across millions of cubic miles of space, but fortunately the larger ships did and this link gave even lone fighter pilots an excellent overview of the whole battle. Practically it meant they were meant to never be surprised, but sometimes the system could be fooled. There was still no replacement for instinct and a human mind in a cockpit.

"Target designations coming in, look for the fighters Ghosts." He rattled off. "Thoruns hanging with the fleet, we'll wait until they break. Hold tight for now."

"Movement in the Dilgar fleet." April noted. "They're forming up."

"Are they going to attack?" Hague wondered with a little awe. "Outnumbered five to one, think they'll hit us?"

"They're going to run." Sinclair said confidently. "The ones over that Gaim planet ran, so will these ones."

"Yeah, looks like." April kept monitoring. "They're coming about, accelerating away from us."

"Well at least we got to see a little space." Sinclair laughed. "Beats being cooped up in that Carrier for any longer."

"This is interesting." April raised. "New movements, more ships coming from around the planet."

"Dilgar?" Sinclair tensed.

"According to the power scans, Brakiri."

Sinclair sighed in response. "Great."

"Brakiri?" Ferguson frowned. "Positive?"

"Yes sir, about a dozen vessels of all classes." His aide reported. "Couple of Heavy Cruisers, but they don't look in great shape."

"Please don't tell me they're heading for the Dilgar." Ferguson groaned. "They aren't going to take on that fleet."

"Well sir, I have some bad news."

The Tactical display showed the Admiral his concerns were well founded. Bolstered by the massive allied presence and the fleeing Dilgar the remnants of the Brakiri defence force had sortied out to do battle. This in itself showed commendable bravery, but it betrayed a rushed attempt to achieve vengeance for the months of death and misery the Brakiri had endured.

There was no way the EA ships could catch up to the Dilgar fast enough to engage them before the enemy made mincemeat of the Brakiri. Even though they lacked heavy ships and were second line vessels the Dilgar would still easily rip apart the motley collection of green warships. In all likelihood they would also still escape the wrathful EA ships too, completing the slaughter before Ferguson could close to weapons range.

"Can we get a message out there? Tell them to back off?"

"We can, but I think it's too late sir, they're moving too fast and the Dilgar are moving to engage."

"Easy kills." Ferguson hissed in anger. "Alright, release the League ships. Order them to accelerate and support the Brakiri."

"Understood Admiral."

"Then dispatch Fighters and Frigate squadrons, they might make it in time to help."

His aide tapped out and encoded the orders for transmission.

"They've got spirit." Ferguson said. "I'll give them that, but their timing needs work. Try and save them."

"New orders." Sinclair read. "Squadron will accelerate and engage Dilgar fighters at any opportunity."

"Well who wanted a joyride anyway?" April quipped with evident sarcasm.

"We're going to distract them and give the Brakiri chance to hold out until help arrives."

"How do we distract them?" Hague wondered.

Sinclair grinned maliciously. "Well I thought we'd go in there and kill them all."

"Yeah, that'll distract them." April agreed.

"We're not packing enough firepower to take on the ships, so don't get carried away." The Commander warned. "Watch for missile armed Thoruns, go for them first. Stay within five hundred miles of each other, do not try and chase them down, they can and will out run you. Alright, lecture over. Throttle up and don't let Raven squadron outscore us, I've got ten credits riding on it."

"Big money Boss." April tittered a little.

"It's the principle." Sinclair defended.

"And our reputation." Hague added.

"See, he's with us a few months and already he knows he flies with the best." April cheered. "We did a good job with the brain washing."

"Well now we better go earn our money, I'm sending our combat sector to you all. If its in that box, we kill it."

The various pilots made their acknowledgements.

"Alright Ghost Riders, lets put a little fear into them."

In the distance the Brakiri forces began long range fire upon the retreating Dilgar. The Brakiri ships were an eclectic collection of repaired survivors and hulks that had been salvaged and rebuilt after the vicious fighting in orbit many months ago.

Those few ships were backed up by vast swarms of fighters, huge numbers had been built on the surface to maintain the freedom of Brakir, they were alongside the mass produced satellite weapons the last true strength of this world. Even so, their numbers could only account for so much and against the Dilgar guard forces with their lethal mix of rapid fire pulsar cannons and Dart Fighters, the Brakiri losses would be very heavy.

While this force had operated within the cover of the orbital defences it had been unassailable, but now as it moved out of protection the Dilgar sensed blood. While most would have just continued to run with an allied fleet chasing them the Dilgar calculated the time it would take for Earth Force to reach them and the time it would take to rip through these few defiant Brakiri. The numbers did not favour the green ships.

The initially volleys mostly went wide, a few gravitic bolts connected with their targets in a ripple of energy that bashed and distorted the metal of the victim ship. In response the Dilgar held their fire, closing for a better shot rather than waste energy on ineffectual long range duelling. Both sides led with fighters, the two groups closing like clouds of insects at full speed, eager for the chance to earn some respect or glory.

The Allied fleet began to separate, the faster units streaking ahead into action. Vree Saucers hummed past the fighters of Sinclair's squadron, their gravitic drives vibrating the Starfuries as they made their way into action. Markab ships were close behind, marginally slower but sporting heavy armour they were a good opponent for the Dilgar ships when used wisely. Scattered among them were the various Markab and Vree fighters, again lighter than their human counterparts and moving much faster.

"It's gonna be over by the time we get there." April observed.

"I think there'll be plenty to go around." Sinclair replied, his sensors showing the first of the fighter groups engaging.

As he expected the Brakiri were taking the worst of it, the disciplined Dilgar formations were tearing through the loose Brakiri fighters, spinning and firing in all directions as they allowed the Brakiri to flow around them. The Vree and Markab were delivering a better performance keeping more ordered in their attacks after advice from Earth Force, but they were still making simple mistakes betraying their commendable spirit but lack of training. As Sinclair had expected there were still plenty of Dilgar in action when the Starfuries arrived.

The Ghost Riders were the first of several hundred human fighters into action, cutting through the confusion like a purposeful steel blade and crossing straight into the action. Sinclair ignored the mass of weaving allied fighters, diving between a Markab squadron and centring on a well deployed Thorun unit that was finishing off a group of tiny Vree craft.

"Still with me Bill?"

"Yes sir." Hague answered from his wing.

"Ready to track left, we're going through the middle." Sinclair ordered. "Let the computer do the work, just keep that trigger down!"

The crossed fighters raced through the developing Melee, warships joining the tussling fighters and hurling firepower across the Void at increasingly close range. The light and flashes were largely filtered by the canopy letting Sinclair focus entirely on the closing Thoruns, only now becoming aware of the dire threat racing towards them.

Sinclair cut his main thrusters as he swept through point blank range, rolling and pointing his guns sideways into the flanks of the Thorun squadron as he and the rest of the Squadron swept past, a text book flyby strafing.

The Dilgar didn't last long, only two fighters broke away soon enough to avoid the barrage, by which time the Ghosts were well out of range and looking for new targets.

Hague's computer shrilled a warning at him, it had a different type of alarm for every one of the dozens of things that could kill him out here in a tiny fighter surrounded by annihilation. This particular warning told him a missile had locked on and was heading his way.

"Missile lock!" He announced for the benefit of his squad. "Evading!"

The Starfury was an agile craft, but against a missile Hague would need to put a lot more effort into his manoeuvres. It wouldn't be enough to simply twist and turn, he had to put a lot of space between his hull and the missiles warhead, and that was going to mean G-forces. Hague hated G-forces.

He twisted the controls and rolled away under full power, the effects pushing him against his seat braces and bringing on drowsiness as blood seeped away from his brain. His flight suit kept him conscious and alert for anything up to 20g's but at the accelerations ungoverned fighters could make that limit could quickly be exceeded.

His focus was on the sensor screen and the twisting speck heading his way, he largely ignored the battle going on around him, glimpsing burning ships or whizzing fighters now and again as he adjusted course. The missile was still accelerating, gaining faster and faster, he watched the distance count down on his screen and at the right moment acted.

He dropped countermeasures, a puff of metal and a couple of blinding sensor flares before pulling a ninety degree spin and accelerating away at a slanted angle. The pull on his body was extraordinary and while his fighter had no problem making the turn Hague found his vision narrowed to a tiny speck of light as if he were staring down a tunnel.

He took a few seconds to recover, careful to have kept turning so he was not an easy kill for a Dilgar pilot jumping him from nowhere. When his senses stabilised the missile was nowhere to be seen while he himself was still alive and intact, something which counted as a great success.

"Hague, stop sodding around with missiles and get back on my wing!" Sinclair cut down the euphoria and reminded Hague where he was.

"Yes sir." He answered quickly, still quite out of breath. "Rolling in."

The heavy fighter twitched as he burned the thrusters, moving with remarkable grace for something so blocky ugly. He passed by the more slender League craft They were closing in on the Brakiri now, cruising through the outer skirmishes to delve into the main fight itself. The husks of burnt out fighters and twisted metal formed obstacles for the Starfuries, some of the wreckage left from the earlier battles while some was fresh and still cooling.

He found Sinclair's distinctive fighter, the rest of the squadron deployed loosely in their pairs around him engaging passing threats as they targeted the largest groups of Dilgar fighters, currently fighting in and around the Brakiri and a few Markab ships that had penetrated this far.

"Okay Bill, you know the Drill." Sinclair said. "Ghost Riders, break and attack."

The Starfuries shook themselves apart, still in pairs but changing their orientation to attack in a manner that best suited their pilots. Some slowed down and began to turn off axis to strafe through the Dilgar, others altered position to swoop in and attack from multiple directions. Sinclair and April accelerated and flew straight for a collection of Thoruns at high speed, aiming to once again cut through the formation and barrage it with pulse fire.

But the Dilgar saw them coming, and this flight could tell the Furies were more of a threat than the Brakiri Falkosies they were currently massacring. Immediately they broke away and distanced themselves, moving to form up and take the Starfuries head on. They were barely half a second too slow and Sinclair's flight of four fighters were on them before they were properly set up.

Sinclair took the first two head on without even slowing, a pair of precise bursts from his cannons rapidly transforming them into wreckage. April and Hague were slightly behind, each claiming a kill as the rocketed past and cut engines, spinning on inertia and spraying space behind their path with pulse cannons eradicating the remaining Thoruns.

"Break left!" He suddenly yelled, "Scatter!"

The four craft split up, not waiting precious moments to clarify the threat. As they did so a storm of green pulses raced past from a Vree ship, antimatter stitching the hull of a distant Dilgar Cruiser.

"Stupid jumped up bastards." Hague snarled. "Look where you're shooting!"

"Reform, bandits four low!" Sinclair ignored the remarks, putting the situation out of his mind and in the past. "Take them out!"

Hague wasn't thinking, just acting on training and instinct. He fired a few shots but apparently hit nothing before the Dilgar raced past and ducked behind one of their destroyers. Sinclair did not give chase, pressing on to engage the Dilgar still actively fighting the Brakiri.

The raced into the thick of the action, gravitic bolts searing past to pummel Dilgar vessels while rapid streams of particle bolters answered and crunched into the forward hulls of the League vessels. The Markab and Vree were in action too, but whoever was in charge of the Dilgar knew his business and had formed a cordon of ships to try and prevent the two groups linking up, separating both by massed volleys of weapons fire.

However fighters were able to flit between the warring vessels and try to do some good, several squadrons of Starfuries close behind the Ghosts following them through while other units engaged the cruisers.

The first and most obvious problem was the crossfire, the two fleets were exchanging an awful lot of gunfire making the central plane of the battlezone a no go area, the dominion of the warship where fighters would be snuffed out without a second thought. Instead the duelling sparkling insects gathered on the periphery attempting to make attack runs on enemy ships or prevent the enemy doing the same to their own fleet.

Immediately the Ghost Riders made their presence known, ambushing a squadron of Thoruns and in so doing allowing a wing of Brakiri strike bombers to make a clear run to a nearby Dilgar Destroyer. The Earth Force fighters quickly forced the Dilgar Thoruns onto the defensive, attacking with more aggression than the League fighters and cleanly outflying the Dilgar. Many Earth Force craft fell, caught by surprise or a victim of overconfidence, but the odds were tilted firmly in their favour and the League craft began to rally as the Dilgar contracted.

Sinclair pulled a tight turn and as wingman Hague was right behind him grunting as the G-forces exerted their influence once more. The leading Fury climbed up between two Markab fighters and twisted, locking it's guns on a trio of Dart Fighters attempting to chase down the allies. The Dilgar were surprised by the sudden appearance of the human craft but tried to engage it anyway. Sinclair brought two of them down in as many seconds with a long walking burst of fire. The third rolled hard away straight into Hague's gunsights.

The young pilot did not have time to savour his victory, already Sinclair was on the move at full burn, screaming into action behind a rain of blue pulses. April was nearby and trying to keep up but largely failing, and while Hague needed all his skill to match the Commander's pace he simply couldn't copy all the extreme twists and turns the red marked fighter was performing, he simply kept up and watched the Commanders back.

Sinclair was in his element, it had always struck him as cliché but in moments like this he became the Starfury, so attuned were his senses and so familiar his controls he could perform wild turns and accelerations in three different axis' and still know to the degree where his guns would be pointing at the end. The Dilgar were too slow to his eyes, he could easily predict their path, avoid their gunfire and accurately cut them out of the stars. It was no challenge, he felt no danger or exhilaration, it was cold and simple warfare, the clinical execution of combat with no emotion and no joy.

He was pulling a constant 30g's in his fighter, and while his suit absorbed two thirds of that he was still under 10g's for extended periods. His chest protested at the effort of breathing, his neck muscles battled to keep his head straight and his fingers felt like they were being pulled away from the controls by weights attached to them. Every tiny turn of the controls required Herculean strength and mechanical precision, and every time he delivered it.

He wasn't keeping count, he attacked and moved on, attacked and moved on. He was travelling so fast he didn't see the explosions, by the time his cannons hit he was already past the target, catching the slightest glimpse of light and disintegrating fighter.

He didn't need to fight this hard, there was Dilgar ace here that could match the average Fury pilot, let alone one of Sinclair's elite, but out there somewhere he knew there was one who could. For that reason and no other Sinclair pushed himself and his fighter to the edge of its ability, burning the weakness out of his body with plasma fire and hard gravity. He hated to call this battle practice, people were dying and a lot rested on victory, yet in many ways it was an acid test of his skills and a way to get back into the feel of warfare after being off duty for a month.

It was all so disconnected, so effortlessly simple he didn't need to over analyse what he was going to do, he simply flowed across the battlefield like mercury destroying anything foolish enough to cross within a mile of him.

Hague was enthralled by the whirling Dervish his Commander had become, he didn't need to fulfil his job as wingman because any Dilgar suicidal enough to try and take on Sinclair was shot down before Hague could get close.

It was amazing, the Starfury was never in sight for more than a second on two, spinning like a leaf in a hurricane but always in some sort of control, always finishing where Sinclair wanted it to, usually with its guns on a Thorun. Hague was exhausted from the effort of just keeping up, trying to actually fight in the way Sinclair was currently demonstrating seemed impossible, highlighting the vast gulf between the two men and their flying skills.

April was also fighting hard, bringing down a respectable number of Thoruns not far away, but even though she was considered an ace pilot she was left behind by Sinclair's prowess. Considering the Starfury was a fairly simple piece of machinery by League standards Sinclair was getting a staggering level of performance from it.

Hague avoided some debris, a half wrecked Thorun still burning from Sinclair's hit, then accelerated hard to follow his leaders path. The Commander was wading into action without hesitation, taking on three and sometimes four Dart fighters at once. Hague was terrified of the odds but still rushed to lend his guns, and he could see April doing likewise, yet Sinclair had always beaten them by the time Hague arrived to help.

The red topped Fury snapped away again, a blaze of ions as it raced away, magnetic vanes straining to direct the engines thrust and power. He threw on the afterburner for just one engine, throwing the fighter with brutal force away from a trio of converging Thoruns and forcing them to miss completely. Hague pressed forward, determined to engage at least one of the enemy craft, but again he was beaten by Sinclair who wheeled around the Darters and picked them off in rapid succession, avoiding the bolt fire sometimes only by inches, but it was enough.

He cursed himself for being too slow, then braced as he made another bone wrenching high speed turn.

The larger battle was turning against the Dilgar, already heavily engaged by the League allies the arrival of a couple of hundred Artemis frigates tipped the balance firmly in the Allies favour. The initial rail gun volleys were scattered but lethal, the sheer weight of fire ensuring many shots struck home. Dilgar ships shuddered under the impacts as rounds passed neatly through leaving gaping holes of torn metal in their wake, perforating the enemy hulls time and again. One shot cruised through a Destroyer end to end, its wake folding and distorting the hull behind it while secondary explosions destroyed the vessel from the inside out.

Wisely the Dilgar commander decided the game was over, and with honour served and numerous League ships dead by his guns he ordered a full withdrawal. The Dilgar had lost perhaps half their fleet, but in the process had destroyed several dozen League vessels. At one point they could have reasonably expected to wipe out all the League ships despite their lack of Dreadnoughts and inferior numbers, but Earth Force training was beginning to take hold with the League and while still largely outfought the Markab and Vree had not been defeated and had preserved much of their fleets.

The familiar jump points opened randomly across the battlefield, scattering friends and enemies alike. A few dozen Starfuries and League fighters were obliterated by the opening portals, along with a single full sized Vree saucer as the Dilgar retreted, abandoning a few crippled cruisers to make a noble end before the League guns.

Sinclair made a final combat turn, leaving a final Thorun shattered behind before finding no more targets, no more enemies to slay or tests to make. He snapped out of his focus and slowed the fighter gradually to an acceptable speed.

"Ghost Squadron, check in."

He was answered by readouts from his unit, no casualties.

"Looks like we're done here, head on back to the barn. Nice work squadron."

Hague was happy to head back, but he couldn't help feeling slightly concerned that Sinclair had seemed to more or less ignore him during the fight. He couldn't tell for sure, and maybe the Commander knew exactly where he was and how much danger he wasn't in, but it felt a lot like Sinclair was out there alone fighting by himself, not as part of the Squadron.

They filtered back as Earth Force heavy ships moved up and began clearing away the Dilgar mines and satellites so the first aid convoys could reach Brakir. News agencies on the surface were frantically trying to gain news on the changing events while the Government transmitted on all frequencies seeking confirmation that the Dilgar were gone and their prayers had been answered.

When the news came through that the Dilgar had been driven away after over a year of communications blackout the outpouring of emotion, of both joy and sorrow was unexperienced in Brakiri history.

They were alive, and they were free.

Somewhere in Narn Space

G'Kar had never had much time for religion, save maybe as a tool or means to an end. It was organised superstition, a cunning ploy by orators to earn money and power by playing on the fears of the masses and promising something which was nobodies to deliver. Salvation.

It was all make believe, a false hope, but sometimes false hope is better than no hope at all. It was with that thought echoing through his mind that G'Kar had opened his book of G'Quan for the first time since his father's death. It had not been easy, the pain of that day, the venom that still ran in his veins regarding his fathers murderers still stung his heart and bones. Generations of his family had kept this book safe, had put hope in its pages and drawn strength from its words. G'Kar had never cared for its content, he kept it only because it had been dear to his father and the last real connection he felt to him.

But lately he had felt in need of some reassurance, and with nobody to turn to the book was forced to suffice. In turn he had found something he wasn't expecting, a sort of depth that surpassed con merchants and tricksters he had considered these religious figures to be. He found some understanding.

He had rented a room under a false name, a secluded and simple little ehouse with a stalwart elderly couple out in the mountains. He needed the solitude, to be alone and away from the business of politics and position trading in the Kha'ri. He had done many things in his life, often terrible, but never anything he had come to regret. At least not until recently.

"You are a hard man to find when you go to ground." A gravely male voice interrupted his simple meditation. "Must be all those years in the resistance."

G'Kar slowly opened his red eyes, the room an auburn colour cast from dozens of candles. Like so much on the planet it had a tone as red as dried blood. An oddly appropriate colour considering the history of his world.

"This was a safe house I once stayed in." He replied. "Hidden away from the Centauri Death Squads. The closest thing to a sanctuary I have known."

"And the obvious place to look for you, I must be getting old." The other Narn walked into the centre of the room and took a seat beside G'Kar, staring down at the book.

"It has been a long time since I have seen that manuscript."

"Me too." G'Kar nodded. "I thought now was the time to bring it back."

"Your father would be pleased to see you read it."

"Perhaps not if he knew the reason."

War Captain G'Sten sighed heavily, his wrinkled features crinkling a little as he squinted at the writings of G'Quan, the hand written lettering interspersed with images of horrors and nightmares from a thousand years ago.

"I remember reading that myself a long time ago." The Officer stated. "With my father, your Grandfather."

"I have heard the story Uncle." G'Kar said reluctantly. "My father told me you would all gather round and listen to my grandfather recite the history of G'Quan, his battle with the darkness, the liberation of Narn, the hope that our strength would one day free our world again. I'm sure it was inspirational."

"Oh, it was incredibly boring." G'Sten cracked a smile. "But it made us family."

"Something I missed." G'Kar said absently. "If I could go back I would spend more time just listening to him. I never understood him until those lost moments."

"My brother led a quiet life, but he was as much a Narn as any fighter or member of the Kha'ri." G'Sten spoke emphatically. "He had a strength of spirit that shamed lesser men. A man of principle and honour, he made an oath to protect his family first, and he upheld it to his death. A great man, and I see his strength and fortitude in you G'Kar, all you need to do is embrace it."

G'Sten was highly respected among the Narn, a stalwart fighter and a founder of the Narn military he was popular with civilians and all but worshipped by the warriors who served him. His career had started uninterestingly enough as a slave like so many other Narn. While his elder brother had served in a Narn household G'Sten's more fiery nature had singled him out for manual labour. First in mines and then later as he displayed some mechanical skill on a Centauri cargo ship.

On the surface of it the transfer seemed like an improvement, exchanging the dusty and dangerous mines for a starship. However the Narn crew members were confined deep below decks scrubbing toxic waste by hand and working beside barely shielded reactors and jump engines. It was a cramped and filthy existence with a high turn over of lives, usually one or two died every trip from accidents, radiation exposure or simple suicide.

But G'Sten stayed alive, and he learned. He came to understand how space travel worked, learned the intricacies of hyperspace and the mechanics of jump engines, starship systems and technology. He overheard bragging officers telling tales of their battles and grew to understand Centauri battle strategy and how warfare in space would be conducted. Across decades G'Sten accumulated this knowledge, and waited.

Then he learned that his brother had been executed for spilling hot drink on a Centauri noble woman.

With his fellow slave crew he rose up, using the innards of the vessel to move through the vessel, invade the upper decks and slaughter the crew and passengers with blunt instruments and tools. He took the ship with ease, but unlike other attempts at mutiny G'Sten knew enough to fly the captured freighter and hide from reprisals.

He became the Captain of the first true Narn warship, outfitted with weapons acquired from Raiders he harassed the Centauri shipping lanes, liberated slave ships and began building a small force of technologically savvy Narn to maintain and operate a growing fleet. By the time the Centauri left he had six ships under his flag including a Centauri Naval Frigate captured in a daring raid.

This scratch force was the first of the Narn navy, and while it had grown massively in numbers, capability and power since then G'Sten was still recognized as its father. He currently commanded the flagship of the fleet and was expected to assume command of the entire Navy in time, though for now he still preferred the challenge of operating in deep space and was content to let others with higher political standing act as Warleaders. He wasn't finished with adventure yet.

"So I was meaning to ask." G'Sten continued. "What exactly are you doing out here?"

"I had a moment of revelation."

"A revelation? I see." G'Sten nodded sagely.

"G'Quan describes the concept in detail, that these revelations give birth to the future. Well this revelation changed my future, it made me see something flawed inside myself."

"You have been reading too much of this, you sound like some sort of Prophet!" G'Sten laughed mildly. "What happened? The Kha'ri are looking to see if you are dead."

"G'Quonth'Tiel." He responded quietly. "Greatest of us, leader of the Narn Resistance, purest of heart and most even of temper."

"So people say." G'Sten shrugged. "People who didn't know him too well."

"He's dead." G'Kar stated. "Suicide."

"I heard."

"Stabbed himself with a ritual blade a month ago."

"An honourable way to go if you have to." G'Sten agreed. "His death is being mourned across the Regime, but it is unlike you to take it so personally."

"It is personal." G'Kar said. "I killed him."

G'Sten did not speak for a few long moments, and when he did his voice was low. "It was suicide."

"And I caused it."

"How?"

"As a weak and futile attempt to put our world on the right path." G'Kar answered heavily. "Ta'kai and I went…"

"Ta'Kai?" The old Narn grunted. "I thought you had more sense than to get involved with that viper!"

"I should have known better, but I didn't." He admitted. "Her vision for the future of this world was the same as mine, I detest her, of course I do, but we wanted the same thing. A secure, strong and economically successful world. We wanted to become a great power, G'Quonth was pushing for membership of the League for G'Quan's sake!"

"I heard he was turned down before the war."

"It isn't spoken of much, but yes, the League refused him." G'Kar agreed. "Prpbably due to our aggressive expansion. Then the Dilgar started making waves and he was pressured into making treaties with them, mainly by Ta'Kai and her followers. Inside I think he wanted to save the League and end up joining and leading it, a grand alliance against the Centauri. It was a dream, never going to happen. Ta'Kai guaranteed it."

Carefully he closed the ancient book.

"We went to see G'Quonth, Ta'Kai and myself." He continued heavily. "We threatened him with disgrace, to falsify evidence that he was a Centauri collaborator unless he stepped down."

"So when he said he was retiring from politics because he misjudged Hilak and the Dilgar, in fact he stepped down because of Ta'Kai?"

"And me."

"No G'Kar, I know you, this was not your idea."

"It wasn't but I went along with it, that makes me just as guilty. I broke the will of our greatest leader, and he killed himself rather than live on the world Ta'Kai was building."

"What you have done G'Kar, what you have set in motion here, only you can live with." G'Sten spoke solemnly, the words of a man who had made his share of tough choices. "The fact you are here tells me all I need to know. You aren't celebrating or basking in power. You are contrite, looking for some forgiveness. You will never have it."

G'Kar looked up. "Then why bother?"

"Because only G'Quonth can forgive you, and he's dead now." The old man said. "But what you can do is atone, try to create something better. You can put right what you did, turn this act into something good and worthy of G'Quonth's name."

"How?"

"Build a better Narn, but in your own way. Not Ta'Kai's."

"I can't oppose her, she is too powerful."

"Not yet, not until her place in the First Circle is confirmed." G'Sten pointed out. "And it leads to the second reason I am here. Ta'Kai has struck a deal with the Dilgar."

"She has a way of picking the worst friends."

"Ta'Kai has been talking to Deathwalker herself, the woman who killed our people on Hilak." G'Sten snarled. "She has no honour or sense of justice, to cavort with such a hated enemy!"

"What did she do?"

"In return for the right to conquer half of Drazi space she gave the Dilgar the coordinates of Earth, and let them use our space to bypass the human battle lines."

G'Kar felt his mouth hanging open in shock. "Is she insane?" he snapped. "It's obvious what they want! The Dilgar are going to attack Earth!"

"Almost certainly, and they are using our space as a base to launch the attack."

"If the humans find out their second war will be against us!" G'Kar growled. "And even if it fails it will drive the humans firmly into the Centauri sphere of influence, and you've seen what they did to the Dilgar fleets."

"I have been reading the battle reports, admirable." G'Sten remarked. "They fight as we would, and while I believe we could hold them off better than the Dilgar we would be badly weakened. Easy prey for the Centauri."

"We have to stop this from happening."

"There is still time, Ta'Kai is meeting the Dilgar in person to assure the deal." G'Sten said. "I have learned her route and the location of the base."

"How did you find out?"

"She has to use a ship to get there, and there are a lot of officers who owe me a debt." The old commander grinned. "If we go now, we can catch them."

"You have a ship?"

"I have several, my task force. More than enough in case the Dilgar refuse to leave."

"Why are you doing this G'Sten, I don't deserve your help."

"I do not offer help because it is deserved, but because it is needed." He answered. "You are my favourite nephew, by brothers son, I have a responsibility to look out for you. My brother would have wanted it. Also it serves Narn, call it killing two Centauri with one stone."

"Thank you Uncle." G'Kar nodded in genuine appreciation. "Where is she?"

"An unexplored system near the Earth border, Sigma 957."

"Then that is where we go." G'Kar resolved. "Before we all come to regret this mistake."


	72. Chapter 72

71

Brakir

1 day after the Liberation

"You know Earth Force ground forces are meant to be the best." Sergeant Jackson mentioned in passing. "Most effective technology, best training, mechanics and engineers the envy of the galaxy. And yet they still can't make the air conditioning work."

Francis O'Leary chuckled from the sweltering heat of the armoured box they were travelling in, an Earth Force Aesir class scout car. While there was no danger of attack that necessitated the armoured vehicle it was one of only a very few Earth owned transports on the planet and so it had to make do, though in the current situation Francis and Sergeant Steve Jackson would have preferred an open topped truck.

The vehicles had been dropped to help administer the distribution of human aid to the planet, millions of tons of food and precious water were being dropped to the surface in a steady flow and sent to where they were needed most while the Brakiri Government pushed its industry back onto its feet. The first priority had to be re-establishing the planets water reserves, with the second clear priority being the resuming of warship production.

While the aid had been stockpiled for some time the vehicles had been lifted straight from forces on Tiree, the Markab colony liberated by Earth and by now largely stabilised and turned over to the Markab themselves. Unfortunately all the trucks and cars used there had been optimised for winter conditions and there hadn't been time to change tham back, and Brakir was a well known arid desert world. On Tiree a faulty air conditioner had just been ironic, on Brakir it was torture.

They had the two doors open and had rolled up shirt sleeves, but as native Irish man this sort of heat was definitely not complimentary to Francis' physiology, though 'Jaws' Jackson was doing better having being born and raised in the muggy deep south of the United States.

Another thing which didn't help, though Francis didn't really mind, was the street party currently rejoicing its way through the capital city. Francis' three car convoy was crawling at a snails pace through the thronging streets towards the primary government building housing the Krona, the Brakiri leadership.

A Brakiri female appeared at the open door of the armoured car, smiling widely and rapidly saying something neither of them understood, by her expression it was probably something grateful.

"No problem." Jackson answered in his resonant voice. "Nice planet you have here, kind of balmy."

The Brakiri woman had no idea what he had said but still laughed along, then handed over a basket filled with sweet smelling items before darting away and cheering into the singing crowds.

"Did she give us sweets?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"I think so." Jackson took one of the small hard items and sniffed it. "I think its candy, yeah."

"Now this I like, free sugary treats."

"I heard Brakiri candy is safe to eat." Jackson considered. "Same basic biology."

"Yeah, just the same as our stuff." Francis grabbed a handful. "Happy Liberation Day."

There were a few thumps as a couple of young Brakiri clambered onto the roof of the Earth vehicle and celebrated, jumping up and down singing for a while before leaving. Rings and streams of coloured paper and cloth sailed through the air and wrapped around the jubilant citizens emerging from every house and corner, young and old roaring in songs and celebration. A whole year of fear and anxiety had simply been released like a volcanic explosion of merriment consuming the whole world in ecstasy, and even in the oppressive climate Francis could not help but be happy.

By the time the convoy reached the Syndicracy building it was decked in layers of treats and streamers, appearing more like a St Patrick's day Parade float than a military column. They pulled up and Jackson stepped out, followed by Francis and a few other military aides from the other vehicles.

Waiting at the door for them as familiar as a sunrise was Jenny Sakai with a smile as warm as the desert.

"Francis, good to see you again." They embraced as old friends. "Sergeant Jackson, hope he hasn't given any trouble?"

"No Ma'am, I love hearing about his high score on Doom Bicentennial."

Jenny offered a genuine laugh. "We've only just arrived ourselves, traffic is backed up through the city but I can't blame them."

"Hell of a party." Jackson remarked.

"Can't think of a better reason to throw one." Jenn led them inside, the building was cooler than standing in the open but the air was still parching and dry. For a centre of government it was incredibly quiet and empty, only a small group of people were visible and most of those were human.

"Where is everyone?" Francis asked.

"Most are out organising aid shipments across the planet." Jenny answered. "Some are probably partying, but we've got a meeting with the senior Brakiri leaders in a few minutes."

"What's it about?"

"Standard sort of briefing, but we have some new intelligence data I need you to look at, the Director has a new job for you."

Francis brightened a little. "I like a fresh challenge."

Jenny smiled. "That's why you're here."

They made their way over stone floors to a seating area and found a bench to wait while the various representatives gathered, it was due to be a meeting of senior human and League officials including David Sheridan and Itala of the Abbai who had become spokesperson for the League in exile. The first group to arrive however was headed by another familiar face.

"Heather?" Francis stood as he saw the pale girl look around in a doorway making sure she was in the right place. He face lightened instantly on seeing Francis.

"Hey, good to see you!" She beamed. "Damn it's hot!"

Unlike Francis who had stopped at Shirt sleeves Heather was dressed in a manner more appropriate for a beach with thin summer pants and a skimpy top. She was however still deathly pale and wore a severely dyed purple crown of hair which did not greatly suit her apparel. As a native of Canada she shared Francis' discomfort in warm climates.

"Did you see all the parties?" Francis asked. "Amazing isn't it?"

"Sure is, I'd love to go join one after we're done here. Want to come?"

The young man grinned widely. "Definitely."

There was a slight cough behind her from the doorway, a quick glance revealing Paul Calendar laden down with half a dozen bags.

"Oh, oh sorry." Heather rushed over.

Jenny had silently joined them and announced herself with a chuckle. "Taking up a career as a bell hop Paul?"

"These are my bags." Heather helped him unload. "He was being a proper Gentleman helping a lady with her cases."

"I swear she doesn't need all this stuff." Paul grinned. "What is it with girls and packing?"

"That is a lot of bags." Francis frowned. "How long are you staying?"

"Forever." She grinned. "I'm your new deputy."

"That's right." Another voice added. "That's your new job."

"Morning Vic." Jenny greeted Agent Chapel as he joined the party. "Like a family reunion developing here."

"Captain Calendar was good enough to give us all a lift out here." Chapel said. "At a generous price of course."

"Man has to make a living." Paul smiled cheekily. "And fleecing the government is the best living I can think of."

"Francis." Chapel handed over a sealed envelope. "Your orders from the Director. Basically he wants you to run a team of five people out here, with Heather as your second, providing real time intelligence for the fleet."

"You want me to run an actual team?" Francis gasped. "Of people?"

"Well we did think a team of Hamsters might be better, but in the end yeah, we went with people." Chapel deadpanned. "At first it was enough just to have you out here, but we've noticed a lot more sophistication in the Dilgar codes lately, it'll be more than one guy can handle soon so we're setting up this team."

"But I can't lead it! I haven't got a clue how!"

"Course you can." Jenny encouraged. "Just have a little confidence, it's not like you have to jump out of planes or command a fighter squadron, and they are just crackers like you."

"I'm not a leader."

"The Director thinks you are." Chapel stated with a little smile. "He doesn't get things wrong. It's sort of his job description."

Francis shook his head. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"Just be you." Jenny said. "And let the rest just fall into place."

"Oh, I brought something to celebrate!" Heather enthused, grabbing one of her bags and opening it up.

"She's been talking about this all trip." Paul told Jenny. "I'm equal parts excited to see it and sick of hearing about it."

Heather produced a sealed box and with a flourish popped off the lid. "I made cakes!"

The group looked on in mild surprise.

"You bake?" Jenny asked. "I did not see that coming."

"Well I'm just starting." She offered the selection around, everyone taking a well presented and gorgeous looking item of confectionary. "I thought this occasion deserved it."

"Every occasion deserves cake." Paul said eagerly and picked the largest of the treats. "I love the EIA."

Francis took a bite from his cake and began to devour it before his jaw froze. Despite their delectable appearance the cakes tasted like a mix of sawdust and rat poison. His eyes darted up to find themselves trapped in the saucer like wide gaze of Heather, giving him an expectant half smile and waiting his reaction. She had put so much effort in, brought them all this way to celebrate his promotion, and she was such a wonderful person. He acted like a man, chewed and swallowed.

"Wow, that was incredible."

She exuded pure joy. "That's great! I used my own recipe."

"Yeah, they are pretty…" Jenny looked for the right word. "Unique."

"Gorgeous." Paul had already finished his and looked at Jenny. "You going to finish that?"

"By my guest." She said with mild curiosity. "So you quite like them?"

"I'm not picky." He answered and began consuming the second cake.

"Don't I get one?"

Francis knew the voice but couldn't quite place it by sound alone, it wasn't until he looked up and saw the person of origin, a small man dressed entirely in black and seemingly unperturbed by the heat.

"I lie cake, so sweet and delicious." He smiled. "Most of the time, don't you agree Francis?"

Paul glanced at the man. "Is he a Psicop?"

"Alfred Bester." Jenny named coldly, all joy robbed from the gathering.

"Agent Sakai, good to see you again." Bester strolled forward with an air of total supremacy. "And Agent Chapel, I've missed you."

"I missed you too Bester." Chapel said stonily. "Next time I'll aim lower."

"How much I love this banter." The Psicop sighed in feigned nostalgia. "So Francis, well done on your promotion, I'm sure the way things are going you will have a bright future."

"What do you want Bester?" Chapel demanded. "You are way outside your jurisdiction here."

"I'm doing a study." He answered. "Investigating how the war and long term deployment affects the minds of our brave fighting men and women."

"You?"

"Who better to analyse the human mind than Psi Corps?"

"Honestly?" Jenny cut in. "I'd spend a week with Jha'dur before I'd spend ten minutes with you."

"Well, no accounting for taste."

"Why don't you all go through and wait in the meeting room." Chapel suggested. "Paul, you better head back and help Francis' new friends find their way."

"Yeah, okay then." Paul agreed, seeing the rising tension. "Speak soon Jenny."

"I'll catch up tonight." She said.

Chapel looked down on the Psi Corps representative. "Bester and I need to have a little chat."

The party entered the room and closed the doors behind them leaving the two men in the foyer.

"Why are you here?" Chapel asked again.

"To study the effects…"

"Cut the bull Bester, why are you here?"

The Telepath smiled cheerfully, a condescending action designed to infuriate the EIA agent. "It's complicated, you wouldn't understand."

"Psi Corps has no jurisdiction outside Earth Space, you've go no business out here."

"Well that's just plain wrong Vic." Bester answered. "Do you mind if I call you Vic?"

"Go ahead, just makes me want to stamp you out more."

"Well you see wherever EA ships go, is EA territory. The stations we build, bases we set up, fleets we form, those are all technically Earth Space and within Psi Corps influence. So are the people within it."

"There isn't an officer in the Navy who'll let you run around their ship." Chapel sneered.

"They don't have a choice, I'll run around where I want."

"Not if I break both your legs."

"Ah yes, Violence, first resort of the mundane."

"Only when it comes to jack booted little worms like you, Al."

Bester smiled. "So, Francis got promoted."

"Not your business."

"There is something about him." Bester considered. "That mind of his, it isn't like yours or mine. More than a normal human, but not a telepath, something a little different to both."

"You scanned him didn't you?" Chapel accused. "You total son of a…"

"Son of nothing Vic." Bester snapped. "The Corps is my mother, and my father."

"Well that explains the upbringing." Chapel grinned.

"Fact is, Vic, Francis might be something unique, or maybe he is a type of latent telepath. His mind is mechanical, precise, probably why he is so good at his job."

"He's just a kid." Chapel said. "You aren't getting anywhere near him."

"He belongs with the Corps."

"He's not a telepath."

"A technicality." Bester dismissed. "We have normals working with us too. Yes, someone like him will be very useful to us."

"He's one of us, Earth Intelligence. Try to fight one of us and you fight all of us."

"Spare me the theatrics."

"The Director isn't going to let you take him and screw with his head. Code breaker or not, he isn't going with you."

"Which I'm sure is why Durban sent him out here in the first place, to keep him out of our grasp." Bester smiled. "Clever man, but the Corps will not be put off so easily."

"I'll make sure you don't take him."

"Oh yes, because you did so well last time you tried to stop me." Bester leered. "Isabel says Hi."

It had been a while since Chapel had been an official field agent, he was approaching middle age but in that second the years seemed to fade and all his strength and speed came flooding back as he drew back his fist and lunged at Bester's hideously smiling face.

He did not connect, his mighty strike stopping an inch from the smug features of the Psicop. Chapel tried to push that last distance but could not, his every fibre of will failing to connect his clenched fist with Bester's nose.

"It is lucky we have ways to counter violence in the Corps." Bester remarked conversationally. "Why don't you step back?"

"Why don't you kiss my…"

Completely against his will Chapel stumbled back wards and stood rigid against the wall, Bester slowly advancing on his furious face.

"Amazing what a P-12 can do isn't it? How easy to control the human mind is with a little practice? Poor Agent Chapel, it always amazes me when Mundanes think they can defeat the Corps. I could turn you into a vegetable right now, or just kill you outright, burst every blood vessel in your brain."

Chapel snarled but could not move.

"Face it, the Corps isn't going to be dictated to by your little EIA, we are better than that, and if you have something we want, we'll take it. Now, why don't I take a look in your head, and see what the Director really has planned for little Francis?"

There was a sudden pressure on the back of Bester's head, a cool ring accompanied by the hiss of a charging PPG.

"By process of elimination, welcome back Agent Sakai."

"Looks like you were too distracted assaulting my boss to notice me." She said in a low voice. "How about you let him go now?"

"I have to admit, I didn't see you coming." Bester stated. "This time."

"Ain't line of sight a bitch?" Jenny chuckled grimly. "Let him go, because I doubt you can kill him faster than I can cook your brain."

Bester seemed to consider it for a while, then released Chapel who bent over double breathing heavily.

"Now then." Jenny spoke thoughtfully. "How to keep you from repeating that performance?"

Chapel answered the question, with a vicious and swift move even Bester failed to predict he landed a powerful right hook on the Psicop any prize fighter would have been proud of. The Black clad man dropped like a sack of bricks.

"Bet that was fun." Jenny remarked.

"That bastard had it coming."

Jenny looked at the unconscious body. "He'll be angry when he wakes up."

"Yes he will."

"How about he never wakes up?" Jenny said calmly. "I'll take him outside, put a shot through his head, they'll never find the body out here."

Chapel smiled coldly. "Best idea I've heard all week."

They were about to act when a scuffle of feet caused them to stop and snap upright.

"What's going on?" A red faced man in a blue EA uniform demanded. "Who is that?"

A small party of marines followed him, his badge of rank showing he was an Admiral.

"Looks like the heat got to him." Chael said with fake concern. "Guess he should have changed his wardrobe."

"Yeah," Jenny agreed. "Black was a bad choice, but you know Psi Corps."

"Corporal," The Admiral waved for one of his escort. "Take this man to our compound and get him some cold water."

The two agents stood back as Bester was picked up and carried away, their faces neutral."

"You must be the Intelligence people?" The Admiral half asked, half stated.

"Yes sir."

"Right, the meeting is starting, lets go find a seat."

Thankfully the meeting hall was much cooler than the rest of the building, a nicety afforded by Minister Brocat to the visiting human dignitaries and their Abbai ally. It meant that Brocat was feeling rather cold and one of his aides was actively shivering, but it was a small discomfort to endure in exchange for delivering the hospitality his guests deserved.

"I wish to begin by welcoming you to Brakir, and repeating on behalf of all the world our thanks and appreciation." Brocat began in accented English. "We were on the brink of collapse, and without your intervention our civilization would have fallen. To Earth and her allies, we owe a great debt."

"We accept your thanks on behalf of Earth and the Free League." A balding human names Sheridan replied for the delegation. "We're here to do what we can, if your government will draw a list of items they need most Earth will do all it can to deliver them."

Brocat smiled at the offer. "Once again, thank you." He turned to his side. "May I introduce Minister Norila, our current head of internal development, and Admiral Broma our senior military commander. I am Minister Brocat, speaker for the Al-Hakil Corporation and representative of the Krona."

"And for my part I'll introduce Admiral Ferguson who commands the fleet in orbit." Sheridan pointed out. "Ambassador Itala I believe you know, and a selection of our Intelligence community, Agents Chapel, Sakai, O'Leary and Laney."

"I would like to start the meeting by asking for an overview of the strategic situation." Brocay announced. "We've been cut off for months and have no idea what has happened."

Sheridan fielded the question. "Well Minister, the Dilgar managed to roll up most of the League, right up to the Vree border. As allies with the Markab Earth warned the Dilgar to stay away and stop their advance. They ignored us, invaded the Markab, then we got involved almost four months ago now."

"And you pushed them all the way back here?" Brocat wondered. "How?"

"Well, the tactics aren't my thing." Sheridan smiled. "But our fleet beat theirs in a couple of major battles, and they've been on the run ever since."

"Deathwalker?"

"We thought we'd killed her, but turns out she survived." Sheridan shrugged apologetically. "We killed her brother though."

"Warmaster Sha'dur is dead?" Admiral Broma raised his head.

"Killed by a Markab cruiser two months ago." Sheridan confirmed. "We estimate we've destroyed about a third of the Dilgar navy, including their two best fleets."

The three Brakiri kept an even composure but it was clear they were very pleased.

"My congratulations, Sha'dur led the fight against us and is personally to blame for a billion deaths. While we would have liked to have handled him ourselves, his death is still welcome news."

"Right now we're moving to liberate Cascor, once that is done we'll consolidate our gains and attack Mitoc from two directions." Sheridan said. "Mitoc is heavily fortified and the key Dilgar world in the League, if we take it there's nothing between us and the Dilgar core territories."

"As the Ambassador has said, we've beaten a third of their fleet, the better third." Admiral Ferguson contributed. The Scotsman's face was bright pink still due to the heat, but formality precluded him from removing his uniform jacket. "However that still leaves two thirds, including a respectable number of elite ships."

"This war is far from over." Itala joined in. "Many Dilgaar fleets remain and many of our worlds still suffer under siege. The human fleets are strong, but we cannot let them fight alone. The liberated League worlds have pledged to fight on, to send what forces they can to battle the Dilar."

"And Brakir is no different." Brocat affirmed. "We understand very well the concept of debt, and the debt we owe Earth is great indeed. What forces we have I commit unconditionally to this united fleet, we have few ships right now but many of our yards are intact and filed with half built hulls. We may not be ready to help you in time for the battle of Mitoc, but we will be there when you take the war to Dilgar space itself."

"What we do have is the army." Broma suggested. "Our Corporate troops are among the best trained in the League, and we spared no expense in their equipment."

"I've worked with the Brakiri army once or twice." Chapel added. "Excellent Light Infantry, they'd fit right in with our Airborne Divisions."

"We're glad to accept." Sheridan smiled. "I'll talk to General Dayan and find a way to integrate our forces together."

"We want to be there when you hit the Dilgar." Broma said with a confidence he had been forced to develop in this war. "We've got a debt to repay with them too."

"I've got one last thing here." Chapel brought out some papers. "It doesn't directly relate to the Brakiri situation, but General Denisov and Director Durban wanted the League and Admiral Ferguson to know at once."

He distributed files to each of the assembled people around the table including a sheet of writing and a few grainy pictures and sensor extrapolations.

"Three days ago one of our convoys was wiped out near Bestine. Chapel said. "We expected to take some loses to Dilgar raids, but not this convoy. It was running with two cruisers and six Corvettes."

"Heavy escort." Ferguson noted. "Munitions Convoy?"

"Replacement crew." Chapel said bitterly. "Not something we could afford to lose. They took out every ship, escorts and transports."

"How did they sneak a fleet of that size past our piquets?" Jenny asked.

"They didn't, it was just six vessels. Two cruisers." Chapel said. "One on one our ships would have wiped out anything short of a Dreadnought group, but these two cruisers and a handful of destroyers took out the whole convoy."

"How?"

"It's a new design." Chapel turned his file. "A rough picture is on page four."

Francis found the image, it rang a bell. "I've seen something on this before."

"Sekhmet class." Jenny named it. "There was a circular about it, we didn't think they'd go operational so fast."

"Jha'dur must be very persuasive." Sheridan observed. "Is it just the two?"

"As far as we know, yes." Chapel confirmed. "Agent O'Leary will be tasked with finding these ships and any other data."

"With my new team?"

"That's the other reason they are here." Chapel confirmed. "Admiral Hamato is setting an ambush for these ships but we need to know where to put it. Find a pattern, see where they strike next."

"Understood." Francis said formally.

"These vessels are a threat to us, but overall they are an inconvenience to our overall plan. They can hurt our supplies, in the worst case slow down our advance for a while, but they won't stop it."

"I'm sure the Admiral knows how to handle this." Ferguson referred to Hamato. "But I'll step up patrols in case they come this way or try for Mitoc."

"For now that's all we can do until we find more information." Chapel said. "Thank you for your time."

"Very well." Sheridan nodded to Chapel. "That looks like the main points, we should talk about exactly where you need aid delivering, what forces we can move in here and where you want our station to be assembled."

"You are building a stationhere?"

"Already built." Sheridan smiled. "A forward dbase to replace the ones you've lost. We call it 'Camelot' and it's one of a few we've prepared. I don't think our EIA people need to stay for these details."

Chapel stood. "Thank you Ambassador, we'll start our own work."

"You know, you should probably take a night off. Go out, enjoy the celebration." Sheridan suggested. "We've all worked hard to get here, once in a while you just have to stop and appreciate what you've done, and what you've got."

Jenny noticed Heather and Francis sharing a furtive glance. "I agree, lets have six hours." She smiled. "See where things go."

"Yeah, before Paul leaves." Chapel added with equal amusement. "Alright, come on, lets get out of here and quit interrupting. We'll speak tomorrow Ambassador Sheridan."

"Have fun Vic." Sheridan nodded. "And you owe me a game of Poker."

The four agents filed out of the room, back into the heat.

"So where do we go?" Francis asked.

"The whole planet's a party." Heather grinned. "Just step out the door."

"I hear there's a human run bar near the local spaceport." Chapel hinted to Jenny. "Might find a familiar face there."

"Subtle boss, real subtle."

"Ah just get on with it." Vic chided. "Even the Director knows you've got the hots for that Calendar guy!"

"Hey, don't go digging in my private life!" Jenny grimaced. "Not funny!"

"For a spy I can read you like a book whenever he shows up." Chapel continued. "Everyone knows."

"Yeah, we do." Francis agreed.

"There was a poll." Heather added.

"And why didn't I know about this?"

"We're the EIA." Chapel frowned in humour. "Secrets are our thing. Besides, you were too busy making moon eyes at Paul."

"Don't make me slap you, you know you're too old and fat to stop me."

Chapel barked a laugh. "And he likes you too, life's too damn short so get out there and get on with it!"

She looked between the three people with a slight smile. "If this is a set up you all die in your sleep."

"Just go!" Chapel waved her away. "Get it out your system!"

With a laugh she started away. "Sometimes a hate you guys, a poll?"

All three of them responded in unison.

"Get on with it!"

"Fine, fine." She went away. "Have fun without me."

"Oh I'm sure you too will have plenty of fun." Chapel slapped Francis and Heather on their respective shoulders. "Now get gone too."

"You coming along boss?"

"Three's a crowd, and I've got other arrangements." Chapel smiled. "Jaws Jackson and I will catch up on old times. Now get outta here, have fun, take a night off and I'll make sure no one disturbs you. No one at all."

Sigma 957

Unclaimed world

Narn Space

The planet didn't have an official name, just a designation on an old Centauri star chart which was translated as the simple name it currently bore. The Narn had sent a few probes here to explore but none had returned and no information beside a few long range scans had been uncovered. Scouting the planet was a low priority with the fairly limited exploration budget focusing on closer worlds and expansion pointing towards the League, not Earth where Sigma fell.

To the best of anyone's knowledge no Narn had ever been here, or was expected to in the near future which is why it made a perfect base for Ta'Kai to deal with the Dilgar. Safe, secluded and well placed for a dash over the Earth Alliance border away from the heavy defences of the League facing colonies and stations.

But there was some deeper undercurrent in this system, a mystery that became apparent to those who delved a little into its history. When the Centauri left Narn they also abandoned a large number of nearby worlds, later claimed by the Narn in their first expansion. Sometimes the Centauri would fight for a world, a brief skirmish, sometimes a fairly large battle that had marked the current border between the empires. They let Sigma go without a fight, indeed they never even had ships based there despite their policy of aggressive colonisation of all claimed worlds.

For the privileged few with access to the Centauri archives it would be possible to find the initial survey of Sigma 957, to read the enthusiastic words of the exploration crew who thought they'd found a treasure trove of Quantium 40. And then nothing more except an order from the highest level of the Navy quarantining the system indefinitely. Sometimes there would be a report of a ship breaching quarantine, lured by the prospect of Quantium deposits, followed immediately by a report declaring that ship missing and refusing a request to launch a rescue.

The Centauri were not known for superstition, but they considered Sigma 957 cursed and were no doubt hiding their smiles when the Narn loudly proclaimed it part of their territory.

G'Kar did have a tingling of unease as the ship made the transition to normal space, a sense of foreboding with no real explanation, just an instinct warning him not to stay very long. In the past such instincts had often proved correct and had helped him during the Centauri hunts and attacks. He was not happy about going against them.

"We should spend as little time here as possible." He said. "There is something not right here."

G'Sten looked over at his nephew with mild confusion. "Everything seems normal enough."

"Just a feeling I have, a bad one."

"We don't have to linger, our job is simple enough. Find Ta'Kai, arrest her for selling secrets to the Dilgar, then return home after making sure none of those feline murderers come anywhere near our space."

It was simple enough to say, but the execution would be more complicated. G'Sten had two heavy cruisers and a quartet of frigates in his battlegroup, a respectable array of firepower and a match for the anticipated Dilgar pentacan that might be lurking in the system. Of course if the Dilgar had deployed heavier forces things would get far more interesting.

The childishly simple frigates took the lead with the bulky slab sided cruisers following, both designs sharing a great deal of interchangeable systems, indeed the cruiser was little more than two frigates strung together and joined by a central command deck.

Those dirt cheap frigates were the secret of Narn success, easier to build than even human ships the Narn had filled space with them. Not only were they the base component for heavy cruisers there were plans to link three together to create a simple battleship. Even more usefully it was possible to join five together nose to nose in order to create an effective if simple starbase.

They were horribly slow and mounted short ranged plasma weapons, but were extremely tough and thickly armoured, in many ways very similar to human vessels but simpler. These ships were of course temporary, more sophisticated Narn vessels were already on the design board utilising the first examples of reverse engineered Centauri technology and promised to be elegant and lethal combatants worthy of their owners, the first of these new ships was to be called G'Quan.

G'Sten had brought the ships in on the far side of the planet away from the jump gate, the most obvious point for entering the system. Slowly the zero gravity vessels crossed the terminator into the sunlight side of Sigma, sweeping the area for potential ships and enemies.

"I'm reading a Narn vessel, one of our frigates." His first officer reported. The bridge of the vessel was shockingly uncluttered, beside G'Sten and G'Kar he had only two other officers, one to send out his orders and one to provide him with reports. Everything else happened elsewhere in the various Command centres. G'Sten had an excellent overview from his seat including a full sized holographic display donated by the Centauri. All he needed to do was focus on positioning and fighting the fleet while his subordinates actually ran the ship. It was similar to the Centauri and Minbari principle and very different to the Human and Dilgar system where commanders were surrounded by information.

"That's Ta'Kai." The Captain nodded. "Any other contacts?"

"Not yet."

"Very well, move us clear of the planet and put us between her and the jump gate."

"Understood sir."

G'Sten turned to his nephew. "Would you care to talk to her or shall I?"

"I had best do it." G'Kar replied with no relish. "It is my responsibility to put this right."

Gradually the Narn ships moved into position, fanning out to blockade the jump gate and trap Ta'Kai in the system, her own vessel incapable of forming a jump point of its own. The vessel simply waited in orbit, not displaying any sign of noticing G'Sten's force and made no attempt to flee.

"Ta'Kai." G'Kar raised the opposing vessel. "We know what you are planning, we won't let it happen."

The channel was quiet for a while, the tension on the flagship palpable as they waited for the reply.

"Welcome back G'Kar." A modulated female voice answered. "Good to see you have come out of hiding."

"I didn't have much choice after this madness."

"I have no idea what you possible mean." Ta'Kai said with faux indignation.

"Don't play coy with me Ta'Kai, I know about your deal with the Dilgar!" G'Kar spat. "We're here to stop it!"

"Why would you want to do that?"

"because it will destroy our people!"

"Well at least you didn't oppose it on principle." She chuckled. "That's progress G'Kar, I always knew you could appreciate the bigger picture."

"Apparently better than you." He observed. "Your actions will trigger a war with Earth."

"A war we can win."

"If we join with the Dilgar." G'Kar pointed out. "You have poor taste in allies."

"They are a means to an end."

"I hear they promised you most of Drazi space for this little favour. Do you honestly think they will honour it?"

"I doubt it, but that isn't my plan." Ta'Kai responded cheerfully. "When they remove Earth and destroy the fleets, all we need to do is move in and claim all their colonies, one after another."

G'Kar frowned. "You are plotting to invade Human space?"

"Well, not so much invade as walk in and offer protection from the Dilgar. Something I am convinced they will accept."

"And you think your new friends will let you claim all that space?"

"The Dilgar won't have a choice, they are overstretched holding League space." Ta'Kai dismissed. "They don't have the resources to claim the Earth Alliance, but we can. Besides, the Dilgar fleets are decimated and will be even worse for wear when the human navy gets done with them. It's a winning scenario."

"Unless of course the humans destroy this Dilgar mission, and learn we helped it along."

"Two very big 'Ifs' G'Kar, and the gains far outweigh the risks." She stated enthusiastically. "With the human colonies we would have resources to equal the Centauri! Outmatch them even, and probably outmatch the Dilgar too even after they claim the League. This is our chance to become the galactic hyperpower, and we don't even have to get our hands dirty."

"This is never going to work." G'Kar retorted with a scoff. "The human fleet is a fierce weapon, they will probably bomb our homeworld on principle!"

"They would die."

"But not before they inflict critical damage, that's the view of our three most senior officers." G'Kar said. "Including War Captain G'Sten. The fleet is against you Ta'Kai, and if you can't control the military you will never have true power."

"When we are the greatest power in the galaxy, then we'll see who supports whom."

"Ta'Kai you're going to kill us all! We can't go through with this! The Dilgar are playing us like puppets!"

"We are playing them G'Kar, getting them to do our dirty work!"

"You are trying to out-scheme Deathwalker! For all your sneakiness and ruthlessness Ta'Kai you are a school child compared to her."

"The Dilgar are the new power in the galaxy!"

"Wrong Ta'Kai!" G'Kar shot back. "They're spent, finished! They had their time, brief as it was. This war has given us a new superpower in the galaxy, but it isn't the Dilgar. Not anymore. Earth Force Ta'Kai. The Humans, they are the new power."

The female Narn grunted in denial. "They haven't got the fire of the Dilgar, the purpose to carve the Galaxy in their image."

"You obviously haven't been paying attention have you?" G'Kar replied curtly. "The Galaxy is already shaping the way the humans want it, the League fleets are using human tactics, human strategy, setting themselves up by the human plan. Look at the economic aid Earth is bringing in to liberated worlds, the advisors restructuring shattered League economies in the image of human capitalism. They aren't using ships and guns, they are using diplomacy and help to bring worlds under their influence. Almost exactly what I had hoped we would do!"

"It will never last."

"Humans aren't putting themselves at the centre of a military Empire like everyone else tried, but an economic empire. They are trying to make the League dependant on them for prosperity, and at the same time they aren't conquering their way to superpower status, but buying it through trade and future League markets!"

"All of which will collapse if Earth falls."

"If, Ta'Kai, there is no guarantee. You have to stop now! It is not the Dilgar we should side with but Earth!"

"The Dilgar hate the Centauri like us! We are brothers and sisters!"

"They will turn on us in a heartbeat, but I trust Earth more than that." G'Kar said firmly. "Make a choice Ta'Kai, which world would you rather see standing beside us?"

"Doesn't matter anyway." Ta'Kai said with a shrug in her voice. "They're already gone, twenty hours ago. They'll be over the border already by now and well on the way to Earth."

G'Kar shared a quick horrified look with his uncle. "They've been?"

"Yes G'Kar, you are too late. Even if you had persuaded me it is beyond our reach to stop them."

"You stupid bloody fool!"

"Temper G'Kar." Ta'Kai tutted. "It's done now, and in a few months Earth territory will be ours."

"They will burn us down first!"

"Then I suggest you spread the word and get the fleet prepared for a battle." She said. "And a counter attack."

He switched off the channel in disgust. "This is not an ideal scenario."

"I'll second that thought." G'Sten gruffly agreed. "The Dilgar can outrun any ship we have, we couldn't catch them even without this head start."

"We must warn Earth." G'Kar said. "Get a message to them telling them the Dilgar are coming."

"It could expose our involvement."

"Better to risk that than face the consequences of being an accomplice to genocide." G'Kar considered. "Especially if the Centauri use the instability to make a move against us."

"Do you think they would? Emperor Turhan looks like a moderate leader?"

"They are Centauri." G'Kar growled. "It is enough. Oppression is in thei blood and Emperor or not, they will attack us if we seem weak or assailed. We have to do something now. I'll need a tachyon transmitter, do we have one?"

"Yes, as powerful as they come, we should be able to reach the closest human colony."

"Very well, I'll be down in the…"

G'Kar was interrupted by a flickering of the bridge lights and a groan of systems shutting down.

"Report!" G'Sten demanded, rapidly falling into a curt and precise command tone.

"General power drain across the ship." His First officer stated. "Unknown cause. Sensors show other ships also suffering power reductions."

"Contact the reactor room, tell them to increase power."

"Yes sir. Wait, sensor contact, it's… nothing like it on record. Unknown energy disturbance."

"Let me see it, patch in a video feed!"

The large display turned from a bland coloured map to a clear image of space ahead of the ship showing the brown ball of Sigma 957 ahead with the red coloured Frigate holding Ta'Kai in the foreground. Off to one side, at the top corner of the display, space was in tumult, roiling streaks of light and undecipherable energies exploded and punched their way from somewhere never even imagined and created a passageway into common space.

From that tortured light emerged a titanic vessel, an apparition G'Kar had never seen before and would never forget. A half sphere of dancing fey lights crowned by a sprouting assortment of gnarled fingers constructed of a material that defied classification. Satellite orbs crowded and spun around its thorny crown, regarding the scene dispassionately as the inscrutable ship turned slowly from Narn ship to Narn ship.

"By G'Quan." He managed to gasp.

The bizarre ship seemed to linger for a few moments, examining the area for further disturbance, looking with electronic eyes at the collection of ships before it retreated, consumed once again by the mysterious gateway it had arrived by. There wasn't a single piece of residual energy or physical trace it had ever existed.

G'Kar quietly ran through the encounter in his mind, analysing what he had seen of the ship. Its appearance told him it was something entirely new, or more appropriately insanely old and never encountered before. Perhaps one of the ancient giants hinted at by G'Quan in his writings.

"The sensors recorded nothing." G'Sten reported. "They are still down, we just have a few blurred images."

"And what we saw with our own eyes." G'Kar stated. "It investigated us, must have seen we were no threat, and left."

"It was the source of the energy drain." The First officer reported. "However we were lucky to be on the edge of the affect, we still have ten percent power and climbing."

"An echo." G'Kar said. "Some remnant of a race that does not belong here anymore. We were lucky to see that, and even luckier to survive it."

"Looks like Ta'Kai wasn't so lucky." G'Sten observed. "Look at the image, her vessel has no illumination and is caught in the gravity well."

"Picking up a very faint transmission from the Frigate." The First officer stated.

"Put it through." G'Sten ordered. "All yours nephew."

G'Kar smiled widely as the audio signal crackled through. "Ta'Kai, do you perhaps require a little help?"

"What the hell was that thing?!" She demanded. "What happened!"

"Well, I hesitate to use the term 'Poetic Justice,' but I might just have to."

"Damn you G'Kar, I bet you are loving this!" Ta'Kai accused.

"You bet I am." The male returned with glee. "This is a crisis of your own making Ta'Kai, nice choice of world to conduct your scheme from!"

From other the channel there was a sound that could have been growling, which simply made G'Kar smile wider.

"Alright G'Kar, my people tell me we can't restore power before we crash into the planet."

"And this is my problem because…?"

"Because…well…" She struggled. "We're in this together, your hands are as dirty as mine."

"Which only you and I know." G'Kar said. "And if you were to suffer a convenient accident like, oh, like what is happening right now I get to erase an obstacle and keep a clear conscience."

"G'Kar listen to me, we shared a vision."

"Yes we did, which you abandoned when you sold out to the Dilgar."

"I did not sell out!"

"Yes you did, and until you admit it I'm just going to sit here and watch."

"This is Blackmail!" Ta'Kai yelled.

"Yes it is, you know I'm getting quite good at it." Beamed G'Kar.

"What will it cost me for you to come and tow us to safety? Just name your price. Money, influence, a seat on the First Circle?"

"I'm more partial to the Third Circle myself." G'Kar answered. "Oh, and I'll want your password to your encoded personal files."

There was a burst of static which might actually have been Ta'Kai swearing loudly.

"You'll have to repeat that." G'Kar said cheerfully.

"My personal files!" Ta'Kai ranted over the channel. "Every secret I have? You just want me to give them to you?"

"Yes, I thought that was quite obvious."

"You could blackmail me forever! I have information on most of the Kha'ri!"

"So I understand."

"No way G'Kar, I'd rather burn in hell than give you that!"

"Well, your choice." G'Kar shrugged. "Happy roasting."

"No wait, we can deal! Name something else, anything but…"

He cut her off and turned still looking extremely pleased to G'Sten.

"How long until we can move?"

"About an hour, and I estimate Ta'Kai has another three until she hits the atmosphere."

"We'll ask her again in two hours, I'm sure this time to think will help make her mind up." G'Kar chuckled.

"You are enjoying this aren't you?"

"Oh, immensely." He nodded. "But we still need to somehow warn Earth, prevent this outrage and avoid any repercussions."

"It's going to take more than an hour for us to have enough power to safely travel in hyperspace, and our long range communications will need more work."

"We must do what we can." G'Kar stated emphatically. "I firmly believe humanity will rise from this war as the next major power, and we G'Sten will be sure to gain their favour. Warning them of this threat is a good start. Much as I'd like to see Ta'Kai burn for this I think she still has a role to play in the Kha'ri, even after what happened to G'Quonth."

"You're the politician." G'Sten nodded. "I never developed a taste for it."

"And you remain a better person for it." G'Kar admitted gravely. "Still, I have to do what is needed for all Narn, whatever that means for me personally."

"I hope it is something you can one day reconcile yourself with nephew."

"I hope so too."

Hyperspace

Somewhere within Earth Alliance Space.

Surprise was still on the side of the Dilgar. Their crossing of the border had been extremely perilous for even though no ships patrolled hyperspace and they were clear of the League border the humans had still deployed an impressive array of early warning sensors. The leading ship of the fleet was the experimental stealth ship Jha'dur's technicians had pieced together using Hyach sensor absorbent materials and jamming techniques. That ship was able to pass through Earth Space riding the edge of the Hyperspace Beacons, far enough away that it wasn't detected by the sensors.

However the dozen normal warships following would be picked up even at the edge of beacon range. To evade the sensor nets they had to travel far off beacon using the Stealth ship as their anchor in hyperspace. It was a particularly dangerous method of travel, if they lost contact with the Stealth ship they would become lost in an instant, and for the Stealth vessel itself riding the edge of the beacon was a precarious pursuit.

But for now it was working, and this hand picked force was on the way to Earth with Narn supplied directions in their computers and biological weapons of revolting effectiveness in their bellies. They could destroy Earth in a stroke, poison every living thing on the planet, plant and animal, and in so doing knock the Alliance out of the war and doom it to wither and die.

The main fleet was a distraction, a means to draw the fire of the Earth defence grid for a few seconds to give the Stealth vessel a window to unleash its deadly cargo. Once it attacked it would be registered on human sensors and destroyed in short order, likely the raid would last for mere seconds, but that was all Jha'dur needed for the mission to be a success.

The ships cruised silently through hyperspace with nothing else in sight, but that did not mean they were alone.

The Dilgar ships were a menacing sight, they had built a reputation for combat prowess that had only recently been burst by Earth Force. Even after recent losses there were still few in the galaxy who would not feel a pang of fear upon seeing a Dilgar fleet cruising their way with their belligerent design and all that they symbolised.

The Dilgar were not the only race who's ships could inspire terror just by turning up. Through the black and red gusts of hyperspace even further off beacon another far larger shape cut silently through the turmoil, a tall and stately warship that swam the currents like a fish dives in the oceans. It's design flowed like a living thing, curved and shaped with care and grace by it's builders and surmounted by long elegant fins, finished by a large leaf like appendage driving it forward.

The creation was one of four Minbari Warcruisers in a box formation shadowing the Dilgar, Sharlin class vessels all but unmatched among the races of the galaxy. Of the known races only the Yolu could match the power and prestige of these warships, but while they were older and argued by some more advanced than the Minbari they were peaceful and did not know how to properly craft instruments of war. At least so the Warrior Caste liked to argue.

The basic hull form dated back a thousand years, created to an image provided by Valen to fulfil the role of his sword in battle with the Shadows. The first generation of these warships had met with great success and their use in war seemed to both please Valen and disturb him. No one quite knew why Valen was so uncomfortable with the ships he had inspired, like he almost could not bare to look at them sometimes and would never look out of the window of his shuttle if approaching one. Like many things Valen did not speak of it, and no one dared ask.

The ship had been refitted, weapons and systems improved, construction methods modernised, hull materials replaced. But at the core these cruisers, like their smaller brethren the Tinashi Frigates were externally identical to the warships of the last Great Shadow war, and if prophecy were correct they would be key in the next war too.

Sharlin class ships had worried everyone from the Centauri Emperor down to the most primitive League world that had heard of them, yet they were not the ultimate avatar of Minbari might. At the centre of the box formation was a fifth ship, externally similar in homage to Valen but noticeably bigger and appropriately better armed. They had called it the Shargotti class in respect of Valen's greatest warrior hero who had fallen in battle against the Shadows, the hope being ships of this class would do him the honour of matching a Shadow cruiser one for one. Looking at the raw firepower the Minbari had squeezed into the design it was not such a wild statement.

However few of these ships existed, they were hard to build, expensive to run and with no evidence of a Shadow fleet were largely considered impractical. Currently only one such ship wa son active service, the ship deployed here, flagship of the entire Minbari Federation and most glorious symbol of their might. It bore the name Drala Fi, or Black Star.

That ship and it's escorts now hunted the Dilgar, and encased within its armoured bones a man watched dourly as the red haze of hyperspace flitted past with nauseating unpredictability.

"Satai, we have the alien vessels in sight."

Dukhat answered with a simple nod.

"They are exactly where you predicted they would be, almost precisely."

"Understood Alyt. Prepare to move us in closer."

"Shall I prepare to open communication?"

"Have I instructed you to do so Alyt Sineval?"

"No Satai."

"Then do not prepare communications, just move us closer."

The warrior bowed and headed away in obedience, leaving Dukhat in the control room with the curtain of holograms bathing him in red light.

"Kosh was correct."

"He was." Lenonn stepped out from the darkness of the room into the light of the display. "He knew where they would be and when. His information is impeccable."

"Which is why you are going to tell me to fulfil his request?" Dukhat glanced at the old Ranger.

"He has been right about everything so far. He is going to be right about the consequences if we do not act."

Dukhat turned his attention back to Hyperspace. "Did you notice the beacons?"

"Satai?"

"The Beacons Lenonn, it has been a thousand years since Minbari ships travelled in this area of space. Back then there were a handful of known worlds. Look at them all now, all marked by beacons. Who are they Lenonn? Who built these Beacons?"

"I do not know, my Rangers have never explored this part of space. Only the Centauri have I believe, and they have little of interest to say anymore."

"The galaxy has changed so much in our absence." Dukhat remarked wistfully. "Would we even recognize it anymore? Would it recognize us?"

"Our name is still known." Lenonn answered. "Spoken in whispers, almost the same way we speak of Vorlons."

"Until they became known to us, until Kosh arrived."

"Proving all the half forgotten stories were true."

"When we return to the galaxy, perhaps we will be in the same position he is?" Dukhat considered. "We must be very careful my friend not to cause undue panic."

"A panic we must prevent in our own people about the Vorlons." Lenonn agreed. "They are the harbingers of the next war, their arrival is bound to cause much concern if simply revealed."

"Which must be why Kosh came in secret."

"I believe so." Lenonn looked around him at the hyperspace imagery. "Valen always said we should stay close to the Vorlons, to watch their every move."

"He did." Dukhat confirmed. "But is that because we must follow them by their example, or analyse them for failings?"

Lenonn huffed slightly. "There is indication Valen did not have an easy relationship with the Vorlons, especially later in the war."

"And if Valen was suspicious of them perhaps we should be too." Dukhat considered.

"It was just a rumour." Lenonn mentioned. "In every surviving story the Vorlons are our saviours."

"In every surviving story." Dukhat agreed. "What about the ones that did not survive?"

A thick set man entered the edge of the circle and halted, waiting to be addressed. He had the gait and poise of a warior but wore the colours of a Ranger.

"Durhan, what is it?" Dukhat spoke to him.

"Alyt Sineval requests your indulgence." In said plainly. "Again."

"Very well, permit him entry."

The Ranger vanished and a few moments later returned with Sineval. The Minbari warrior was highly respected among the Wind Sword clan where he had originated and was likely to hold high office one day. He was already a favourite to join the Council of Caste Elders when he reached an appropriate age and his command of the Black Star was sure to help his career.

"Satai." He bowed again, ignoring Lenonn. Warriors and Rangers rarely mixed well, Valen had created the Anla'shok to do the jobs the Warrior Caste had been too stubborn to undertake and the resentment that generated had not dimmed over the centuries. "We are almost within optimal weapons range, if we continue we expect their primitive sensors will detect us in a few minutes."

"We will continue until I order otherwise."

"If I may suggest Satai," Sineval spoke carefully. "While you are a wise and honoured leader of the Nine, your heritage is Religious, not Warrior. Allow me to…"

"Alyt, are you saying I am not fit to command this expedition?"

"No, no of course not Satai!"

"I am very pleased to hear that." The Minbari leader turned and walked closer to the Warrior. "You will soon step down from command of this ship and return to, the Trigait isn't it?"

"Yes Satai."

"I would hope you go with all the honour this command can bestow, and not have the disgrace of having being relieved of command on your last mission."

Sineval swallowed.

"Leave us." Dukhat ordered. "And arm weapons."

"Weapons?"

"Sineval, obey my orders as you are sworn to do or in Valen's name I will replace you with someone who will!"

"At once Satai!" He nodded sharply and whisked himself away. Durhan followed him with a smirk.

"Guard the door Durhan." Dukhat said. "No more interruptions, I must have peace for this decision."

"I will hold the door against the hordes of Zh'ha'dum itself Satai." He bowed, then left the circle.

Once more the silence returned.

"We have only Kosh's word to go on."

"He has always been right." Lenonn answered. "This could be the most important thing we do."

"He said Valen had been reborn, and these ships would kill him."

"And so we must destroy them first."

"They have not attacked us Lenonn!" Dukhat said firmly. "We will be firing on them without even trying to talk!"

"They are Dilgar, we know what they are like. We have seen reports of their ways. They will fire on us if we try to convince them to turn back, and you know how Hyperspace affects things. Their weapons could hurt us if we let them."

"And what would we become by doing this?" Dukhat sighed. "All of this, we are trusting the word of a Vorlon."

"They have never been wrong."

"Perhaps."

"You looked him in the eyes, you saw the true face of a Vorlon." Lenonn said. "So did I, we both know it is true. We don't know why or how or the greater purpose, but we know we must do this because the future depends on it. The Thousand years is almost over, Valen has returned and the Shadows are beginning to stir. These are the first shots of the next Shadow war."

"And Valen help us all."

Durhan stood immovable with arms folded outside the door to the command deck. There were two doors to the room, one led to a corridor leading through the ship while the other lead to the ships bridge where the various officers actually ran and fought the ship amid banks of computer consoles, tactical maps and careful illumination.

"It was such a waste you know." Sineval stood before him almost nose to nose. "You were a proud Warrior Durhan, one of the greatest masters of the Fighting Pike in our history."

The Ranger looked on.

"You could have had command of a Warcruiser by now, an Alyt of the Star Riders clan, instead you chose to be a Ranger and now stand outside a door. It is pathetic."

"The Star Riders are my blood." Durhan said. "The Rangers are my heart and soul. What more can a man o but answer the calling of his heart?"

"You sound like a priest, this is what they have done to you."

"Perhaps you think I have grown weak and complacent?" Durhan suddenly glared at Sineval. "Do you wish to test that theory Alyt? Perhaps you would like to challenge me to a duel? That is if your Fighting Pike still works!"

"I am a Wind Sword, our weapons never gather dust."

Durhan smiled and leaned closer. "Prove it."

Sineval was fortunately saved from a humiliating beating by Dukhat's voice.

"Alyt Sineval, order all ships to destroy the Dilgar at once. No survivors."

Sineval turned away, Durhans eyes still boring into him. "Prepare for battle!" He ordered. "Shakiri, standby main guns."

The Minbari ships materialised from nowhere, coming from the mists in an unexpected direction. The Dilgar ships were running armed and began to react, but with their precarious mode of travel they were pinned to the beacon and could not manoeuvre far. It did not really make much difference.

"Crystal Spear has the Stealth vessel locked." Shakiri reported on the status of one of the cruisers. "All remaining vessels are focused on the main fleet. Our jammers are active, weapons ready."

"Very well." Sineval nodded. "Destroy them all."

The nearest Dilgar ships had no chance. The Minbari cannons were built to cut into the ancient hides of Shadow vessels and would have made short work of the heaviest League or human vessels, against the lightly built Dilgar hulls it was a slaughter. To make matters worse the gravitic distortions of hyperspace often focused and encased the explosions directing more power into the Dilgar hulls. Within seconds the fleet was at half strength and the Stealth ship was gone, severing the beacon link.

The remaining ships threw themselves at the Minbari with every gun blazing, not one shot hit but still they attacked. The second volley of fire finished them too, sliced neatly by the green lances of the Minbari ships which remained intact.

"All ships destroyed." Reported Shakiri.

"Satai Dukhat…" Sineval began talking into a transmitter.

"I saw Alyt, well done to the fleet."

"We obey with honour." He said. "Understanding is not required."

"Indeed Alyt. Lay in course for home."

"As you will Satai."

The message ended, leaving Sineval stood beside Shakiri.

"Why did we attack them Alyt?" Shakiri asked.

"I do not know, it is the Council again. They never tell anyone the whole truth."

"Those ships fought well, instead of trying to find the beacon they attacked us."

"They must have known they could not win. Curious."

"They just wanted to hurt us." Shakiri surmised. "An admirable enough trait in a race. Good warriors."

"I think it might be worth looking a bit deeper into this Dilgar race." Sineval considered. "Maybe send a few scouts out, quietly of course so we don't upset the Council."

"A secret within the Wind Sword clan?"

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Sineval grinned. "Yes, this certainly has possibilities."

Elsewhere Dukhat watched the last broken hull drift into hyperspace never to be seen again. There was no evidence, no indication of their involvement, just as Kosh had predicted.

"They did not even have time to send a distress signal." Lenonn noted. "We have achieved complete success."

"Success." Dukhat repeated without enthusiasm. "I hope Kosh is right, if not we just did murder."

"The Vorlons are never…"

"Yes Lenonn, I have heard that before." Dukhat sighed. "Never wrong, always right."

"And they were Dilgar."

"We don't even know who we saved." The leader stated. "We have no idea who owns these beacons, they are all new to us. Unknown."

"And we are unknown to them, for now." Lenonn agreed. "If Valen is out there, then one day we will meet them and we will join in common cause."

"War with the Shadows."

"If we had not acted that war would have been lost before it even began. We had to do this."

"That is why I am here. Why I had to see it in person." Dukhat said. "Because if we were wrong, I and I alone would bear responsibility for it."

"The Vorlons have said we must not come here again, and we will not. Not until the right time."

"This place holds the key to defeating the Shadows." Dukhat considered. "It had better."

"Time to go home my friend. I expect the Vorlons already know of our success."

Dukhat nodded and watched hyperspace for a few moments longer, lost in unpleasant thoughts of the future.

"So it begins."


	73. Chapter 73

72

Brakir

Former Tourist district.

Currently Relief coordination centre.

Fortunately the Arikil hotel had been constructed with alien visitors in mind. Every room had a variety of temperature controls from the positively frigid to the insanely hot, warmer even than the baking air of Brakir itself. The Penthouse suite was currently a pleasant medium suitable for humans along with most of the rest of the building.

The hotel had become the main centre of human habitation on Brakir, going from empty to brimming in the space of a single day. Its rooms held a wide mix of people from Belt Alliance representative to military personnel, from reporters to diplomats. David Sheridan and the League Ambassadors were known to be staying in the Presidential suites under heavy guard while they stayed on planet for a few days to iron out the Brakiri contribution to the war and what aid was required. The rest of the building was less restricted, though there was still a good number of human soldiers walking the grounds in pairs clad in desert uniforms and clutching firearms.

Most of this passed Paul Calendar by as he stretched out in the bed, savouring the cool sheets and fresh air. It had been quite a while since he had the opportunity to sleep on a planet and not either crammed onto a bunk on some station or strapped in the zero gravity of the Space Race on a job. It was even rarer to enjoy such luxury, though he supposed with his wealth he could afford to live like this forever when he retired. Something growing on his mind.

He reached over and tapped the bedside table, audio only.

"Reception here, how may we assist."

"Hi there, this is the Penthouse, can I get some breakfast up here?"

"Certainly sir." The voice replied. "We have human style Bacon, eggs and toast available."

He laughed silently in glee. "That would be excellent, send it up." He ordered. "Two, no, actually, four portions."

"Very well sir, it will be there in twenty minutes."

He ended the message. "Yeah, I could live like this."

"Me too." Jenny Sakai stepped out of the bathroom in a plain robe rubbing a towel through her wet hair. "They have gold fittings in the shower, and real water. On Brakir, a water shower."

"They must really want to make us feel welcome, show their appreciation."

"But water for bathing?" Jenny emphasised. "On a desert planet?"

"Well we did totally save their butts from annihilation." Paul pointed out. "It'd be impolite to refuse, oh, and they have Earth food. I ordered us breakfast."

"Great, I'm starving."

"Double portions each." He grinned. "I love not having to eat my meals through a straw."

"This job has its perks." She sat down at the mirror. "And look, free makeup."

"You don't need makeup to look hot." Paul complimented. "You look great no matter what."

"Well, that's true." Jenny grinned in jest. "But just because we're an item now doesn't mean I have to get sloppy with my looks. And that goes for you too, now get dressed."

"Damn, we've been a couple six hours and already the nagging starts." He laughed. "Guess I know who's wearing the pants in this relationship."

"And don't ever forget it." She waved some lipstick at him. "Or I'll fight you for the title. I may break a nail."

He cheerfully got up and dressed simply, he would shower after breakfast. The evening before had been both a surprise and extremely well welcomed. He'd started in the local alien club with a few other humans when the various EIA groups had shown up including Jenny. He liked her, a lot, and had decided that this was the best opportunity to just let her know and see where she stood on the matter.

He had turned to greet her and drew breath to say hello before she grabbed him and planet a lengthy kiss on his rather surprised features. After that ambiguity went up in a fireball and both of them carried on without any more doubt or hesitation.

They spent the evening in the club with Francis and Heather who likewise seemed engrossed in each others company before making their way back to the hotel provided free of charge for them by a joyous Brakiri Government. The concept of the Brakiri offering anything for free was a shock to Paul, but certainly not the biggest of the day.

To say the rest of the night was quite fun would be like saying Earth Force has a small fondness for guns.

There was a knock on the door, drawing Paul to it to receive the ordered breakfast a full ten minutes earlier than predicted, the staff clearly sparing no expense. He accepted the food, gave the waiter a generous tip, then took the trays to one of the six rooms the Penthouse had.

"I bet this is one of those rooms that costs thousands of credits every night." Paul pulled out a chair for Jenny at the table, a very old fashioned gesture. "The ones movie stars stay in."

"I bet it is." Jenny relaxed and closed her eyes. "Bacon."

"I have no idea how it got here, and I don't care." Paul settled down to the feast. "We really earned this."

"We really did."

They didn't speak much as they ate, indulging in the sensation of cooked food for a change. For a Brakiri cook whoever had made it did a fantastic job. They drank something which might have been orange juice and found along with their lunch copies of 'Universe Today' from that morning printed off from the Galaxy Net.

"Hmpf." Paul grunted as he looked at the paper. "Lousy Dodgers."

"How are they even in the League?" Jenny asked. "Have they ever won a game?"

"Good question." He answered. "We made the front page."

Plastered in bold letters as the headline were the words 'Brakir Liberated.'

"Earth Force announced yesterday that Dilgar forces had been cleared out of the Brakiri home system with minimal losses to our fleet." Paul read the article. "Within hours aid was flooding in to the system to feed the planetary population courtesy of the Belt Alliances and generous donations from Earthgov."

"That almost sounded complimentary." Jenny said. "I bet the President is pleased, the media is pretty hard to win over."

Paul drank some juice. "Ever met the President?"

"Just the Vice President." She answered. "Nice lady, but a definite politician."

"Hungry for power?"

"Very." She confirmed. "But she's one of the Presidents keenest supporters, we'll have to wait and see how she does."

The finished both sets of meals before heading to the opulent lounge, reclining on a pair of plush chairs in front of a vast entertainment screen. Unfortunately entertainment broadcasts were still down, probably because the staff were sleeping off the party of the night before.

"I had a word with your boss last night before you showed up." Paul said.

"Vic?"

"No, the big boss, Karl Durban."

Jenny sat up. "You spoke to the Director, in person?"

"Well, on a secure tachyon link, yeah. Very intense guy."

"That's true." Jenny relaxed. "He must like you to make contact directly."

"Earth wants me to make contact with the Free Balosians, they have their fleet nearby and we go way back."

"Makes sense." Jenny agreed. "They've been fighting the Dilgar longer than anyone, they probably have information on their supply lines, convoy set up, maybe some information on Dilgar resources our people might overlook."

"Plus they're a serious fighting force." Paul added. "They might not be a big fleet, but they are veterans, each and every one."

"And Earth Force wants them on board."

"From what I understand Earth wants them to continue scouting and Raiding, pretty much what they've done all this time anyway, but work more closely together and become part of the fleet."

"I doubt the Balosians will take orders from Hamato, or anyone else." Jenny observed. "Stubborn and prideful bunch, but real tough fighters."

"I'm sure they'll take suggestions at least." Paul stated. "And Earth is prepared to sweeten the deal with some Tiger Furies and old Cruisers to boost their numbers."

"Good allies to have." Jenny agreed. "And because they know you and trust you, makes you a perfect contact."

"And you should see my commission." Paul grinned.

There was a hollow thud from outside, somewhere in the now quiet streets of the city. A few moments later it repeated, then again and again.

"Wonder what that is?"

"Not weapons fire." Jenny judged. "Or a vehicle. We have a balcony here, lets check it out."

They opened the doors and stepped out into the sun, leaning on the twentieth floor balcony staring down onto the streets. There they saw a procession walking slowly beneath them, dressed in dark colours carrying an assortment of talismans and banners. At the front was a Brakiri with a drum, its plaintive boom the origin of the noise.

"It's a funeral procession." Paul recognized

"Who for?"

"The Planet I think." Paul replied. "Death is a big part of Brakiri culture, you know they're avatar of death is actually called Deathwalker?"

"That fits." Jenny answered. "How do you know all this stuff?"

"Just pick it up." He shrugged. "They ad a two day party to celebrate liberation, now they'll have two days or mourning to say farewell to the dead. After that they'll go for revenge. Brakiri troops are good fighters and the warship crews are spirited, just a little, well, unlucky."

"They're ships seem to fall apart pretty quick." Jenny agreed. "But I'm sure we can use them in the offensive."

"I've got four whole days before I have to leave." Paul mentioned.

"What a coincidence, me too." Jenny smiled widely. "Any suggestions for ways to pass the time?"

"Actually, just the one."

Transfer point 'Camelot'

Earth Alliance Jurisdiction

Brakir

The transformation had taken less than a week, in an almost biblical six days the Brakiri home system had gone from a quiet and mostly empty area dominated by Dilgar warships and defences into an incredibly hectic and bustling transport hub. Starships of all sizes darted and flitted everywhere from tiny maint-bots that helped shift smaller items of cargo right up to Belt Alliance Bulk haulers which dwarfed even the largest military vessels. Those military vessels still lingered, taking on fresh supplies to make sure their holds and arsenals were topped up in the event of a counter attack, but with no activity nearby the fleet was on standby. And its crew taking a well earned rest.

Admiral Fergusons command had since been joined by Hamato's own fleet increasing the total number of allied warships in the system to two thousand, with the EA ships contributing some three quarters of the total force. The warships held a distance away from the planet avoiding the civilian shipping lanes and traffic, content to hold a quiet watch until Brakir was fully stabilised. After then they would move onto their next objective.

At the centre of this resurgent activity was the second of Earth Forces Dionysus class prefab stations, this one named Camelot in keeping with the mythical location theme. A third station was due to be deployed to Cascor under the title 'Shangri La' with three more sub assemblies close to completion in orbit of Mars for deployment to Mitoc and wherever else the fleet carried the war to.

While the basic assembly of the station was completed a lot of final construction and fitting out was still under way even as its large store rooms began to fill up with food and munitions. Everything was rushing along at breakneck speed, a carefully primed and deployed machine administered by the Belt Alliance under contract from the government. Not only was it a good way of making money, but running this operation in the League was generating a lot of alien interest in the Belt Alliance and was sure to help business in the future.

It was onto this semi organised chaos Francis made his way, half tripping over empty boxes and cables that littered the interior of the station while construction workers continued to install lighting and fit out the fairly Spartan quarters which would provide positive gravity berths for crews taking leave from the warships. The lack of gravity on Earth Ships was a constant problem and one for which there was no easy answer. All Earth could do was rotate crews frequently and give them a place to feel the weight of the world, so to speak.

The station was a far cry from the luxurious hotel he had been put up in on Brakir, he missed it. A lot.

He also missed the time he had spent with Heather, and with Paul and Jenny, but mostly Heather. She would be joining him of course but he was at the stage when a few hours away from her was like torture. It seemed that despite a great many reasons and entirely without his prior approval he was in love. Which was new and interesting.

He had felt affection for Jenny of course, which young man wouldn't with her trim figure, raven hair and slightly exotic look complimenting her amazing natural beauty. But it had been more of a schoolboy crush based on those first impressions, with Heather it was a lot more.

They had a lot more in common, their outlook and sense of humour, their ideals and aspirations, their skills, quirks, they way they thought and the way they invariable came to the same answer for any given question. It was a spooky similarity and apparently everyone else knew it except them, much like they all could point at Paul and Jenny with certainty about where they belonged.

Things went a little faster for Francis though, and already he and Heather were like old time lovers, all but inseparable and getting on very well in each others company, just a natural bond.

Really he'd been stupid not to notice it earlier. Something Jenny had taken to teasing him about.

Still he didn't mind, indeed he had never been happier though right now he was pushing that joy down. He was due to meet Heather later and that concept made him soar, but first he had to survive this meeting.

Francis squeezed past a pair of burly workers each about twice his size and made it to the plain door he had been summoned to, marked with just a simple set of digits to identify the bland room from its equally blank neighbours. He winced as an angle grinder got to work a few yards away, screeching viciously as it chewed through metal and plastic without any of the workers even flinching. The Francis it was like a thousand nails running down a thousand chalkboards.

He rang the door chime and didn't even have to wait before it opened, a small mercy in the din of construction that was threatening to give him a hefty headache. He walked through the doorway and let the heavy aperture swing shut behind them, then approached the occupant.

"Agent O'Leary." The quiet speech of Admiral Hamato greeted him formally. "Take a seat."

He did as told. The room was cold and hard with no decoration, beside the table and three chairs there was a bed in the far corner, a communication table and a recessed sonic shower. That was everything, with space at such a premium even the commander of the Earth Fleets barely got a shoe box to live in while his vessel took on stores. Francis hadn't seen his own quarters yet but he wasn't optimistic.

In addition to Francis and the Admiral a third person sat on the other chair in the room beside Hamato, his aide Commander Alina Patel, her dark eyes and complexion still flawless despite several months away from any cosmetic shops

"I trust Brakir was not too uncomfortable for you?" The Admiral enquired as Francis found a seat. Everytime he met Hamato he felt like he was in the job interview from hell.

"It was very warm sir, but bearable."

"At least up here you can adjust the temperature to your liking." Hamato said flatly. "Assuming the Belters put this thing together right."

"I'm sure they have sir."

"The miscalculated the gravity." Hamato picked up a pen, then dropped it on his desk, watching it fall. "I estimate eighty percent Earth normal."

To Francis it looked and felt fine. "Yes sir."

Hamato stared at the young man, perhaps sensing his disinterest and making Francis feel about a foot tall. "Would you like to report on your progress Agent O'Leary?"

"As ordered we've been focusing on the Sekhmet issue." He began. "After the loss of the last convoy we have to track down and destroy these ships before they take more lives."

"Commendable sentiment Agent O'Leary." Hamato said. "Continue."

"Unfortunately we're having a very hard time pinpointing these ships." Francis admitted grimly. "They seem to have sensors powerful enough to keep a solid hyperspace beacon signal from much further away than our own units. They can stand off the beacon while our warships go past and never be noticed, then make their move out of nowhere to hit a convoy or lone vessel later on."

"We have Electronic Warfare ships scouring every jump route, the most powerful sensors we have."

"Yes sir, and normally that would be enough." Francis agreed. "But our analysis has led us to believe these vessels employ a new type of stealth technology."

Commander Patel looked in surprise at the Admiral, who in turn betrayed no change of emotion.

"How did the Dilgar develop this new system?"

"I don't think they did sir, I think they lifted it whole out of a Hyach wreck and simply installed it into their new design."

Hamato raised an eyebrow. "I expect that was difficult."

"From our experiences with, well, stolen technology, yes I expect it was a nightmare to interlink with Dilgar systems."

"Do you believe Dilgar military advancement is superior to our own?"

"Honestly sir, yes, I think it is." Francis answered. "Of course they're pouring vast resources into every conceivable project, weapons mostly. From intercepts we know they've already found a way to increase their average firepower by a quarter by removing safeties."

"Logical." Hamato considered. "It would take them too long to build a ship to match our vessels, so they try to improve their existing designs. Unfortunately they are going to lose more people and assets to accidents with this new doctrine."

"We also believe they are building new ships to civilian standards." Francis added. "Virtually no armour at all."

"They fall to our guns either way, armoured or not, so this way saves money and resources." Hamato reasoned. "Good, it means we're pushing them hard."

"But these Sekhmets are different." Francis brought the topic back. "There's nothing on the Dilgar command networks about them not a single entry or specification beside the name."

"How do you know their capabilities then Agent O'Leary?"

"Well it required some hunting." He began. "I had to go through the Dilgar stock register, a list of every item manufactured or held by their forces. From plugs to jump engines."

"And recovered League technology?"

"Yes sir." Francis answered, seeing Hamato was thinking along the same lines. "I looked into what weapons and systems the Dilgar had in storage, quite the collection, then what systems had been removed and not transferred to the research departments. It seemed the only place they could go would be these ships."

"Giving you a reasonably approximation of how these ships are armed and powered. My compliments Agent O'Leary, to you and the rest of Enigma Section."

"Thank sir, but I'm afraid the news is quite bad. The Dilgar didn't spare any expense on these vessels, they are going to be a hard ship to kill."

Hamato made sure Patel was listening. "What are we dealing with?"

"The Sekhmets have the best sensors available taken from Abbai and Hyach vessels. Powerful, long ranged and accurate. Our estimate suggests in terms of targeting ability it exceeds any known vessel, including the newest Centauri ships."

"So when this thing fires, it isn't going to miss?"

"Probably not sir, no."

"Propulsion?" Hamato rattled.

"A hybrid ion and gravitic system. The principle is the same as that we believe the Centauri use, but utilising mostly Abbai and Hyach technology again. Because the systems are forced together we think it will be very power intnsive, but offer better performance than a Centauri ship of equal size. It will outrun anything we have without breaking a sweat."

"So we can't chase it down. Can our weapons kill it?"

"I believe so, but there are some problems. First she's equipped with Gravitic shields which we have to break through first. Basic Abbai modules, but looking at the number that went missing we expect these ships have at least five generators each, instead of the single generator Abbai Heavy Cruisers mount."

"That is indeed a problem."

"In addition to that the ship has a new type of hull armour." Francis continued. "Now this I have nothing on, it looks like a pure Dilgar development. We know its harder than our own armour ton for ton, but we don't know how much these ships pack."

"Weapons?"

"That's the other problem, she has two advanced laser batteries far more powerful than our own equivalents, taken straight from a Hyach Dreadnought."

"Which means she can beat our dreadnought armour."

"Fortunately sir she only has two, plus a heavy secondary armament of pulsar cannons. In terms of pure weight of fire she doesn't come close to a Nova, but with those advanced sensors, pinpoint targeting and high grade lasers…"

"She can carve up ships at range and mission kill our dreadnoughts before they can reply." Hamato concluded.

"Very tough ships Admiral."

Hamato rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This is a difficult challenge, a ship that can outrun our heavy ships and outgun our lighter ones. I could deploy Frigate groups but they are very short ranged, these Sekhmets could hide in hyperspace, wait them out and attack when they return home for fuel."

"Can we deploy more ships to the hunt?" Commander Patel interjected.

"I can't spare them, I need every frontline ship here ready to face the Dilgar united fleets. If I begin bleeding away strength to bolster the supply lines I become a tempting target for Counter attack." Hamato continued rubbing his chin. "Which is quite possibly what Jha'dur wanted from this whole plan."

"What about the home defence fleets?" Francis asked.

"Already deployed to combat Dilgar raids on the inner systems." Hamato replied. "You saw that message from the Narn?"

"That they picked up a Dilgar fleet heading our way but unfortunately were too slow to catch it?" Francis smirked a little. "Sounds a likely story sir."

"Your people on Earth are investigating, but it has required us to increase patrols near Earth just in case."

"We'll get to the bottom of it sir."

"Narn practical jokes don't amuse me." Hamato stated flatly "And they don't give away free information. There is more to this, but right now I want your team here to find those Dilgar ships."

"Well sir, I think we might be in luck." Francis smiled slightly. "We think we've got them."

Hamato's usually blank face betrayed a thin smile, Durban hadn't been wrong when he said the team the Navy was receiving was second to none in the code breaking department.

"Where are they Agent O'Leary?"

"We believe they have split up." He answered. "After they attacked our last convoy each cruiser took two destroyers and made their way deeper behind our lines. We believe they will cross the border in the next couple of days."

"But if we can't track them how do we know where to put our ships?"

"Unfortunately Admiral I can't tell you that." Francis admitted with a hint of shame. "We've been tracking them based on intercepted signals, they transmit a status report once every day which we manage to catch. Unfortunately one ship has ceased broadcasting altogether, and the other only very rarely."

"Rigged for silent running as my forefathers used to say." Commander Patel observed.

"From the last transmissions we know one ship was making for Altair, the second looked like it was on the way to Eridani."

"I doubt they will penetrate deeper into our space." Hamato reasoned. "It's still a maiden voyage for these ships, they won't want to push them too far."

"Plus our patrols are a lot heavier near the primary worlds." Patel added. "More chance of taking damage, and even a few hits might make them easy to track and hunt down."

"If we can't tell when and where they will hit exactly we'll just have to use a little wit and guile." The Admiral noted. "Thank you Agent O'Leary, my compliments again to your team."

"We do have one additional piece of information sir." Francis spoke. "Might be useful."

Hamato nodded and encouraged him to continue.

"Usin the same technique we created to find the ship's armament we also went through the Dilgar payroll lists to try and find out which Captains were missing."

"To locate the Commanding officer for this mission?"

"Yes sir, and we found two. We believe the senior officer is a Battlemaster Dal'shan."

"Sounds familiar." Patel searched her memory.

"Eldest son of the Supreme Warmaster." Hamato answered for her.

"Yes sir." Francis confirmed. "He has an impressive war record, this was not a political assignment Admiral, this man is an excellent warship commander. Maybe the best."

"I would guess he is the one under full communication black out?"

"Probably sir, yes."

Hamato considered the information. "We have a plan in effect, I'll order some forces dispatched to the border. If they can outrun Novas and outgun cruisers maybe this will be the appropriate time to give our Hecate battlecruisers a decent workout."

"Yes sir." Francis answered.

"I want you to keep looking for these ships." Hamato ordered. "But at the same time we must also monitor the rest of the Dilgar fleet, we are approaching a critical stage of the campaign, the most important action of the war so far."

"Yes sir, we've monitored a stead influx of ships and supplies to Mitoc, the Dilgar are building up a massive presence there."

"To be expected." Hamato nodded. "In fact I am counting on it."

Francis frowned. "You want them there sir?"

"Very much." Hamato nodded. "As many ships as possible. A few hours ago I received word our forces had liberated Cascor."

Francis felt himself smile wide at the news. "That's fantastic!"

The Dilgar ships fled as they have done each time we have challenged them." Hamato said. "Jha'dur is clever, she's not wasting her ships in minor battles, not throwing them away piecemeal. She's saving them for a massive clash of arms."

"At Mitoc?"

"I'm sure that is her plan." The Admiral agreed. "Eminently logical."

"And she will no doubt see we're putting all our fleets together around Mitoc, ready to attack from multiple angles."

"She will." Hamato agreed. "And you will inform her. I want you to let a Gold Channel message slip through the net."

"I'm not sure I follow sir?" Francis asked the Admiral.

"Send a message with an over simplified code." Hamato ordered. "One they can break with moderate effort."

"I think I can manage that, if those are your orders."

"They are, I will give you the message to leak, a timetable of our assault."

"But sir!" Francis spluttered "The Dilgar will know our deployments! They'll be able to slaughter our ships as they leave hyperspace! Our attack on Mitoc will be massacred!"

Hamato raised an eyebrow. "Who said we were going to attack Mitoc?"

Omelos

Dilgar War Council.

"They're not going to attack Mitoc." Jha'dur announced with utter certainty. "It's a trick."

The remainder of the War Council just stared at her, not quite comprehending.

"But Warmaster, we have evidence." Sen'la spoke hesitantly, somewhat fearful of provoking irritation in the female Warmaster. "They plan to attack our forces there in huge strength."

"Captain Sa'goth." Jha'dur looked over to the head of Intelligence who had been asked to sit in on this meeting. "Please explain the message once more for the Council."

The Captain stood and began.

"Late yesterday evening our analysts intercepted a number of human signals. Under standing orders from Warmaster Jha'dur we attempted to break into these signals before the information within degraded. After sixteen minutes we made a breakthrough and deciphered a single command grade message from the Human Commander in Chief to his senior Admirals. This message detailed the human plans for an offensive against Mitoc."

Sen'la raised his hands. "There we are, we know exactly what they will do!"

"Recon flights confirm the human ships are following the initial pattern of the timetable." Sa'goth continued. "The fall of Cascor is detailed in the plans and fits perfectly with the orders we have decoded."

"How lucky for us to have the human plans delivered to us on a silver platter." Jha'dur smiled grimly. "The most intelligent and cautious military force in the galaxy and we know exactly when and where they will attack. A great opportunity you all agree?"

The Council nodded as one.

"Gentlemen, it is a trap."

Warmaster Yor'lothan, an elder in the group and a supporter of the old regime Gar'shan had replaced was unconvinced. "This message was not simply dropped at our feet, we had to work for it."

"But not hard enough." Jha'dur countered. "Captain, your analysis of the code this message was under."

"It followed the basic pattern for a Gold Channel message." Sa'goth stated. "Though the random encryption was surprisingly linear, once we broke the first fifty characters the rest just fell into place."

"And have you had similar success with other signals?"

"No Warmaster, we believe this was a glitch in the human coding process. It is unlikely to be repeated."

"Very convenient that fate picks this very message to hand to us, the one that we would wish above all others."

Sa'goth nodded. "Yes Warmaster."

"Would the humans be aware of the problem?"

"Possibly, the message would be decoded by the recipients and if they had an inch of sense they would see the same glitch we picked up on."

"If they even suspected we had one of their messages, especially one of such massive importance, they would change their plans." Jha'dur stated. "It is elementary, yet as we know they are staying on schedule."

"So they are over confident." Sen'la rationalised. "They've had an easy war so far, they think they're invincible!"

"So did we if I recall." Jha'dur remembered darkly.

"What do the humans gain from this?" Yor'lothan asked. "They have to take Mitoc eventually, why does leaking a fake timetable help them?"

"Glad you asked." Jha'dur grinned. She activated the holographic projector in the centre of the table creating a hovering image of central League space. Green dots showed Dilgar occupied worlds while blue ones showed those under Earth control.

"This is Mitoc." She pointed to a large central green dot. "And here is Bestine, Brakir, Gamma Seven and Cascor." She gestured at a series of blue dots. "All under human occupation."

The assembled room watched the map trace with lines connecting the stars, jump routes.

"Mitoc is a hub at the centre of five jump routes, a natural nexus in hyperspace and well placed to be a prosperous trading world. One more advantage for selection as our new homeworld. We have jusy over five thousand ships deployed there with a heavy defence grid. The Humans and their League pets have Four thousand ships ready to attack. With the defences the battle should even out." Jha'dur watched the glowing orb of Mitoc. "If we know this, so do the humans."

"But they still have to take it." Sen'la repeated. "They can't bypass us, our fleet is too large."

"Look at the map." She directed. "Look at the Jump routes out of Mitoc, Bestine, Gamma Seven, Brakir, Cascor, Comac." She highlighted each one. "Look at the worlds the humans have taken, Bestine, Gamma Seven, Brakir and Cascor. Do you see a pattern Warmaster?"

Sen'la swallowed in realisation. "The Jump routes."

"The humans are cutting Mitoc off, severing our supply lines." Jha'dur said in plain triumph. "They aren't going to attack, they're going to starve Mitoc into surrender. Put it under siege." She smiled widely. "Just like we've being doing to the League. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to wipe these humans out, I'm growing to rather like them."

"How did this happen?" Yor'lothan asked is agitation. "How did they manage this?"

"Because we were too used to fighting the League." Jha'dur said. "We were expecting them to use the obvious solution, the simplest option which was an assault. The League would use such an unimaginative direct strategy, but not humans. No, they've thought this through very well."

"But we still have the fleet, we can break out!"

"Break out where Warmaster?" Jha'dur asked. "Brakir? Bestine? Certainly we could go and retake these worlds, but to what end? It takes us further from home, uses more of our precious supplies, annd when we move and commit to a course of action Earth will come for us. They can catch us no matter where we go, even though their ships are slow they are behind us, they have less distance to travel to intercept us if we try and flee for home."

"What about a direct breakout, straight through Comac to reopen the supply lines?" He asked.

"Attack into the guns of the full Earth fleet?" Jha'dur questioned. "Exactly what the humans hope we will do. They will force us into a massive fight on their terms, and they will win. Destroy the bulk of our navy and leave the whole of Dilgar space open for attack."

The Council room turned stony silent.

"It looks like we have just two options." Warmaster Dar'sen announced over the video link. "We abandon Mitoc, or we attack the humans right now before their forces can link up."

"Both human fleets are heavily armed." Jha'dur said. "Even a full attack at either Cascor or Brakir would have no guarantee of success, half a human fleet is still lethal. And even if we won our losses would be so heavy the second human force could roll us up all the way to Omelos."

"So we abandon Mitoc?" Sne'la asked out loud, incredulously.

"We can't." Replied Yor'lothan. "We already began moving our resources and people out there. Our families, local government, ground forces, food production. Our most important citizens are already on the planet, millions of them, hell half the Imperial family is on Mitoc! We can't leave them for Earth to capture!"

"And that is our problem." Jha'dur sighed. "We moved in people before infrastructure. If Mitoc is under siege it can't support itself, it is entirely dependent on supplies from Omelos. We misjudged our priorities."

"Should we move the fleet to Comac?" Dar'sen suggested. "Keep the supply line open?"

"If we did Earth might decide to go straight for the prize directly." Jha'dur considered. "Then continue planet hopping and driving us back to our homeworld."

Dar'sen sighed. "I hate to say it, but we're in a corner."

"We are." Jha'dur agreed. "I'll deal with this in person. I will go to Mitoc and formulate a response."

The Council mumbled in agreement, none of them wishing to take responsibility for the brewing crisis.

"We have until Earth takes Comac, they will wait until we have all our ships at Mitoc, then they will cork the bottle. A week or less. I may be able to extend that time and gain something from this. For now let the humans think we have fallen for their trick. Continue with your duties. That is all."

The Council members stood and began to leave.

"Captain." Jha'dur called Sa'goth. " few moments if you please."

The officer stood by until the room was empty save for Jha'dur and himself, then awaited her questions.

"The mission to Earth, any information?"

He looked down. "According to the schedule they should have arrived yesterday, this morning at the latest."

"And the fact that Earth Force is still proceeding with its plans and communicating with central command as normal must mean the mission has failed." She concluded.

"There has been no increase in communication indicating a crisis, and human entertainment broadcasts are uninterrupted. We have however noticed an increase in traffic around where we believe the human core worlds are. Heavier military patrols."

"A response to the mission no doubt." Jha'dur reasoned. "They must have destroyed them in hyperspace. A pity, but I have learned not to put all my faith in one plan. We will proceed with Operation Hell Gate."

"Yes Warmaster."

"And our Sekhmet trials?" She asked with a hint of anxiety. "Any word from Battlemaster Dal'shan?"

"Not since his last status report, he will be under communication silence now until he returns to Dilgar space."

"Yes or course, for the best." She nodded. "Keep me informed Captain."

"Of course Warmaster."

"We're in for a hard few weeks, and an even harder few months afterwards. As Dar'sen says we're in a corner."

"Nothing fights harder than a cornered animal Ma'am."

"True." Jha'dur nodded. "But most of the time it still loses. Lets make sure we don't. That will be all Captain, on your way out tell Captain An'jash to prepare my ship. I am going to Mitoc."

Altair

Earth Alliance Space.

"Enemy Convoy approaching, one minute until they cross our position."

Battlemaster Jol'gen accepted the information with a curt nod. "Prepare to move, plot an intercept course, inform our escorts."

The sophisticated bridge proceeded in silence, the crew inputting the required information into their extremely advanced computes and preparing for action. The ship was a work of art, an epiphany of technology that lit the way for the Dilgar Galactic Imperium that was to be their destiny. Jol'gen was honoured to command the second ship of this class.

"All systems answering." His XO reported. "We are ready."

"Where are the nearest human warships?"

"The last patrol was an hour ago, this convoy has just four Corvettes protecting it."

Earth Force Corvettes were a match for a Dilgar destroyer and on paper a solid escort force, but with the advanced warship under his command they were easy kills.

"All ahead full, arm weapons and prepare to engage."

The cruiser began to shift, it's gravitic engines pushing it forward much faster than previous types of Dilgar ship. It was gaudily coloured, rising out of the ice ring of an outer planet gleaming a golden yellow with time old black tribal markings adorning its hull and bright purple engines and running lights shining from it's systems. Usually it ran without the lights but as it rushed to battle the ambush was sprung and the ship no longer had reason to hide, so it announced itself clearly to it's opponents, telling them who had come to claim their lives.

The curved vessel swung around the planet, lined up on the convoy and prepared to attack.

The convoy was relatively small but the numbers were deceptive, at the heart of the group was a diamond formation of four gigantic Ore carriers massing hundreds of millions of tons fully loaded. Among the biggest ships known to exist they had an equally titanic turning circle and an acceleration curve measured in by the week. Around them were a dozen smaller ships of various types carrying generic cargo pallets and at the head of the group were the Corvettes.

"Target the warships first, in sequence." The Battlemaster said. "Remove them, then we'll deal with the lesser transports and leave those big ships for the end."

The Sekhmet pressed on, and to the sensor officers surprise the Corvettes turned suddenly away and accelerated.

"Sir, enemy escorts are fleeing!"

"Confirm that."

"Confirmed sir, they're breaking away! The convoy is scattering and accelerating."

"We can catch them." Jol'gen considered his options.

"Shall we continue to engage the warships sir?"

He watched them for a few moments, seeing the blue glow of their simple ion engines propelling them away.

"No, let them go. Our orders are to hit supply lines. Let's do this quick before human heavy reinforcements show up."

The advanced ship began to slow, turning slightly to focus on the convoy.

"Move us in closer and begin scanning each ship." Jol'gen ordered. "If there is anything useful aboard we will take it, if not we'll just destroy everything."

"Yes sir, slowing down to match relative speed."

The bright ship slowed rapidly, it's escorts still quite some distance behind watching for stragglers and monitoring the performance of the prototype cruiser. Long range sensors could make out an Earth Force cruiser group but even at full burn they were forty minutes away. Plenty of time for the Dilgar to make their escape.

"The bulk freighters are slowing." The First officer said. "Scans show they are carrying metal ores, probably human armour material."

"I don't think we need a sample of that." Jol'gen dismissed. "Scan the other ships, those big beasts will make a nice test of strength for the main guns."

"Sir, wait, sensors are showing increased energy from the freighters."

Jol'gen froze. "From the freighters?"

The tactical screens lit up with a host of warning signals.

"Actually sir, from behind the freighters."

"Commander Anderson," Captain Joe Tennant announced with relish. "Make a note in the ship's log, single entry. 'Boo.' That is all."

Simon Anderson rolled his eyes at the inappropriate humour. "Very well sir."

"I was never good at hide and seek as a kid." The Maori officer remarked. "Probably because I was already six feet tall by the age of thirteen. But this makes up for it."

From the middle of the four freighters, hidden by their bulk and the false data they were transmitting emerged the EAS Nemesis, brand new hull plates gleaming as the running lights came on illuminating the previously shadowed ship. The Dreadnought had been in repair dock since the battle of Markab, the substantial damage requiring almost a third of the vessel be replaced. However thanks to the modular design and the large amount of Dreadnought parts manufactured for the war the slab of war had been put back in service with record speed.

"Main batteries charging, achieving weapons lock." Anderson reported. "We're clearing the bulk transports and almost cleared to fire."

"I'd pay good money to see the look on that guy's face." Tennant smiled evilly, his lucky grass skirt firmly around his waist. The totem had been given credit for keeping the ship in one piece during the engagement at Markab where the Nemesis had been isolated facing the whole Dilgar navy for a time. Despite massive damage the ship hadn't lost one soul killed aboard, something considered by command to be a miracle.

"It wasn't a miracle!" Tennant had proclaimed. "It was my skirt!"

Most of his brother officers had changed the subject at that point, but the ship had received a unit citation and Captain Tennant was due to receive the Silver Star for bravery and clear headedness under fire.

The skirt had received nothing but a lot of publicity back home and something of a cult following.

"Standby on broadside." Tennant commanded. "Don't give him a chance to reply, put every gun to him and fire on my command."

Admiral Hamato knew they couldn't chase down a Sekhmet, so instead they had to ambush it, to dangle some bait in front of it and make sure it couldn't pass up the challenge. Then they would come down hard on the Dilgar ship and catch it at it's most vulnerable, slowed down and parked at point blank range to a Nova Dreadnought. Not a healthy place to be.

The Earth battleship cleared away from the surrounding transports, it's engines working at their limits to push the ship into position before the Sekhmet made an attempt to run. Already the Dilgar ship was accelerating, trying to put some distance between itself and the massed guns of the human ship.

"It's powering jump engines!" Anderson warned.

"Too late for that buddy." Tennant observed dryly. "Guns?"

"Ready to fire… now sir."

"Broadside volley fire." Tennant barked in a deep voice that carried clearly to all parts of the bridge. "Let him have it!"

The entire flank of the ship burst into light, a red cast glow from the multiple laser beams that instantly crossed the void and laced their way around the Sekhmet. The shields held briefly, and the armour managed to deflect a decent portion of the energy, but against such massive force at such short range there wasn't a ship in service that could have survived.

Battlemaster Jol'gen did not have time to send a message to Omelos, as far as the Council knew he was still maintaining radio silence. The rear quarter of the ship exploded as half a dozen beams burnt through and destroyed the engines, throwing the ship into a forward spin. A second later the rest of the broadside hit home, and the ominous harbinger of Dilgar development was blasted across space, it's true potential never to be realised.

"Scratch one Sekhmet." Tennant said. "Signal Thunderchild, jump when ready."

The fractured Dilgar ship tumbled away, its location and direction noted for Salvage, Earth really wanted anything on these ships and while destroyed the hull could still reveal a wealth of secrets.

While the Sekhmet was gone there were still two Dilgar ships in the system, and while a pair of destroyers were nowhere near the threat represented by the cruiser they still could not be allowed to leave. The Nemesis couldn't catch them, but Earth had fortunately deployed a back up.

The destroyers were turning hard to flee, engines blazing to evade the menacing battleship turning their way. To their side the blue flowering vortex emerged, splitting the sky and throwing a second heavy warship into the fray spitting plasma and laser fire. With data from the Nemesis the warship was able to jump out straight into optimum firing range and within seconds one of the Dilgar Destroyers was torn to shreds.

The EAS Thunderchild didn't slow down, streaking past the burning wreck with every gun raging. She was a Hecate class ship, stronger and tougher than her sister Hyperions deployed to cut off the Sekhmet of she out ran the Nemesis. In the end all she had to was finish the clean up.

The final destroyer spat fire and venom at the Earth Force ship but it was no contest, and the Thunderchild cut her enemy out of the sky with barely a second thought.

"Well, productive day at the office don't you think?" Captain Tennant asked jovially.

"For us sir, yes." Anderson agreed. "Not if you're Dilgar."

"If you listen closely I think you can hear my heart breaking for them." Tennant paused. "No, actually that's just wind."

"Recovery teams notified, we'll have the intel guys going over what's left with a fine tooth comb."

"Might be enough left to make a difference." The Captain considered. "But Lady Nemesis doesn't like leaving scraps." He patted the chair. "Do you girl? Course not, good weapon of Mass Destruction."

Anderson filed the moment in the part of his mind he often tried to erase. "Orders sir?"

"Back to Altair station." Tennant ordered. "And break out the Jolly Rogers, we're coming home with our weapons blooded."

About the same time

Eridani system

In a mirror of the scene light years away the Sekhmet climbed out of the upper layers of a gas giant, shedding wisps of vapour from its structure as it burst from hiding and rushed for the convoy. This ship was externally similar to its sister but with slightly different markings. These tribal markings related to its Commanders family clan, the house Gar'shan ruled and had kept at the top of Dilgar politics. His son stood on the bridge, counting down the range to target.

"Reading eleven cargo ships and four corvettes." Ese'lan stated. "Four of those ships are super freighters, fully loaded with a type of heavy ore."

"Very well Commander, prepare to engage the escorts from range." Dal'shan ordered. "Keep our own escorts close."

The trio of Dilgar ships pressed on, slightly slower than Jol'gen had done and maintaining formation.

"Sir, the human escort ships are running!"

"They're doing what?"

"Turning away and retreating at full speed!" Ese'lan stated.

Dal'shan checked the readings and sure enough the corvette screen was turning tail and leaving the convoy to fend for itself.

"Sir, should we stay on the Corvettes or go for the convoy?"

Dal'shan watched the tactical display with cold eyes, looking at every single detail.

"Sir?"

"Reduce speed."

"Battlemaster?"

"Reduce speed now."

The Dilgar formation slowed down, not halting but hanging back.

"This isn't right, humans wouldn't abandon this convoy."

"They are outmatched sir."

"Doesn't matter, everything I've read says they would fight. They're strategy in this war, liberating the League, sending aid, they aren't going to abandon civilians to their deaths. The last convoy didn't."

"So why run."

Dal'shan smiled. "It's bait. I don't know for what, but it's bait. Hard about, get us out of here now, prep for immediate jump!"

The Dilgar ships turned away and began to accelerate, sensing the danger. Sure enough as soon as they turned away Earth Force sprung its trap and from the centre of the bulk freighters a Nova Dreadnought nosed its way out, guns tracking for a long range shot.

"Ahh, thought so." Dal'shan nodded. "I knew humans weren't so spineless. Standby evasive action."

"Activity from the nearest super freighter!" Ese'lan reported.

"Be more specific Commander."

"It's opening its bay doors, reading targeting sensors… impossible."

"Commander?"

"You better see this."

As the Dreadnought armed its weapons the freighter it was sheltering behind had opened its cargo doors, massive apertures used for loading the raw materials into the ship for transport to refineries. Instead f ore the ship had a different cargo, a full sized Earth Force Sagittarius class Missile cruiser.

"That's good, clever ambush."

"Missile lock, lots of them!"

"Break hard right, deploy countermeasures and begin jamming their sensors!" Dal'shan ordered. "Point defences engage at will!"

The Dilgar ship made its turn nimbly ad began launching ECM charges to blind the human sensors, at about the same time dozens of laser beams scratched across the sky seeking the Cruiser, a few buffeting the shields.

The missile cruiser did not leave the freighter, it just launched its nearside weapons in clouds of vapour and fire and used its own sensors to enhance the individual guidance systems.

"Sir, new problem!" Ese'lan called out.

"Let me guess, nuke strike?"

"Yes sir." Ese'lan confirmed. "Approximately forty nuclear missiles closing fast."

"Continue evasive pattern, time to jump?"

"Two minutes."

"Well then, this should be fun."

The cruiser heaved around spraying rapid pulses from its defensive guns, bringing down a number of missiles. The jamming helped throw them off course but with multi megaton warheads accuracy wasn't exactly essential.

Bursts of light surrounded the ship, again and again the nuclear missiles threw radiation and energy at the ship rocking and jostling the cruiser violently while the escorts stayed clear, ignored by Earth Force. Everything was in motion, crew members bounced of walls as the ship was saturated in light, speeding for its very existence through the storm of nuclear warfare.

"Damn those humans know how to tell a man they don't like him!" Dal'shan chortled, appreciating the sheer determination Earth was showing him.

"That was the last missile!" Ese'lan shouted. "We're clear, the Dreadnought is beyond effective range!"

A sensor warning halted any celebration. "One more act to this play."

"Jump point to starboard!" Shouted the sensor technician.

"Helm, hard to starboard right now!" Dal'shan ordered briskly.

"We're turning into the Vortex! That's suicide!"

"It's too far away to hurt us, turn now!"

The Dilgar cruiser came hard about as ordered, it's escorts racing to keep up. As before the jump point deposited a single battlecruiser into reality, all her guns blazing at point blank range. This time however she didn't get much of a target to hit. By turning towards her the Sekhmet was already outside her forward arcs and was passing her broadside on as soon as she left the vortex, robbing her of her primary firepower. However the EA ship could still pack a hell of a punch.

Dal'shan had to grab his command chair as the deck shook violently beneath his feet, the metal of the hull thundering with hammer blows as the Earth Force cruiser unloaded a point blank broadside into the charging Sekhmet.

"Shields are down!" Ese'lan reported in mild panic. "Hull armour holding!"

"Shoot back" Dal'shan roared. "Prepare to jump!"

The secondary guns of the battlecruiser smashed plasma into the Dilgar ship, dozens of hits scoring the advanced hull and racking the ship. In previous battles that level of firepower had simply blasted straight through Dilgar warships end to end, the fact Dal'shan was still breathing was a testament to his new ship.

The return fire impacted the Earth Force ship, but likewise the fairly weak pulsar shots caused minimal damage to the heavy armour and the two ships passed each other scorched and blackened for the experience.

"Jump engines ready!"

"Get us out of here!" Dal'shan ordered with a grin. "Well played ambush, maybe next time."

The warship rushed through the Vortex, its wake traced by plasma shots from the EA ship as it disappeared, the two escorting destroyers close behind. A second later the jump point closed and sealed the escape route.

"We won't catch them at that speed." Captain Power of the Battlecruiser Temeraire said with disappointment. "He spotted the ambush, clever man."

"Signal from the Roosevelt sir, they ask if we need assistance." His communication officers relayed.

"Tell the Teddy we're fine, they just ruined the paint work." The Captain answered. "Make a copy of the log, I expect the people at the EIA will be eager to take a look."

"Yes sir."

"Then set course for the station, I think we're done for today."

The Earth ships began to make their way home as the Dilgar left Earth space and went into hiding the happier for surviving the experience.

"Jha'dur warned us not to underestimate them." Dal'shan said. "That was close."

"Yes sir, initial report sindicate light damage."

"Can we repair it with onboard supplies?"

"Yes sir, no need to return home yet."

"Good, we'll stay out here, fix our ship and continue with our mission." Dal'shan smiled. "Now we know the guile of the enemy we're up against this mission should be much more rewarding. Now I see why my brother Ari respects these people, they know how to fight a real war."


	74. Chapter 74

73

Mitoc

Future Dilgar Homeworld

The Dilgar had invested heavily in this world, all their hopes for the future were pinned on it, this world was their destiny, their path to greater things and eternal glory. It was perfect in every way, from gravity and atmospheric composition to its galactic location and proximity to resources.

Jha'dur had personally overseen the capture of this planet and used her forces sparingly. It had been an uncharacteristically gentle operation with no weapons of mass destruction or saturation bombardment, in fact the Dilgar forces had barely fired a shot and when they landed, with Jha'dur sure to be the first Dilgar to set foot on the world, there wasn't an ounce of ecological damage. It was paradise, the way Omelos had been before the industry of war gouged its fields and choked its sky.

After it was taken the Dilgar set about making it suitable for their habitation. While the climate itself was perfect the planet was of alower technological base than Omelos and to maintain the new Dilgar Imperium the world needed a massive crash building programme. The amount of resources poured in were huge to begin with, information centres, communication posts, sensor grids and of course weapons all sprang out of the ground over the course of six months. The rapid construction was due largely to the availability of slave labour, namely the natives of Mitoc.

For the enslaved populace life had become a constant back breaking routine of work and hope you weren't picked out by the local commandant for sport. Females invariably worked the arable fields growing crops for the Dilgar, newly introduced genetically manipulated plants that yielded a particularly high level of nutrients and minerals perfect for field rations. Animals native to Omelos had been transported and were taking over from the native species, though sertain Mitoc farm livestock had been retained when they proved more delicious then the Omelos equivalents.

Jha'dur had also commanded as many wild animals as possible be rounded up and deposited on Mitoc. Birds of prey rapidly made their home on cliffs and trees and began decimating the more docile Mitoc avian species. Omelos Razor cats, large predatory felines that had adapted to survive the harsh ecosystem of their home world took to Mitoc with boundless enthusiasm, quickly reordering the food chain and becoming the dominant predators.

New plants and wild herbs were introduced and began stealing nutrients from the Mitoc flora, their deeper roots sucking up water and minerals at a faster rate than the Mitoc plants could match. Slowly forests were withering and being replaced by fast growing and insipid Dilgar introduced greenery.

Omelos had bred hardy life, competitive, ruthless, aggressive and well skilled in the art of death. It was as true of the plants and animals as it was of the Dilgar race themselves. The Mitoc wildlife had as little chance of survival as the fleet or army had displayed, they were just outmatched and with no outside help the world would change completely.

Within a generation it would be Omelos, and the life forms that evolved through billions of years would be just a memory.

Taking over the planet was of course a two edged sword. While in general the Omelos transplanted life forms proved more than able when it came to establishing dominance there were still several potentially deadly obstacles facing the colonisation. Ideally a small colony would have been set up consisting mainly of scientists to conduct an in depth study of the world before massive cities were built and millions of people moved in.

Unfortunately the Dilgar didn't have the time and the first colonists were moving in mere weeks after the fleet had secured the planet. The biggest fear was disease, some virus or bacteria entirely harmless to the Mitoc could end up wiping out the whole Dilgar colony in days, and condemning the race to extinction. To that end Jha'dur's team had been on Mitoc working around the clock to produce a universal vaccine which supplemented the recipients immune system massively. It was a technique she had developed as part of her search for an immortality serum and had proven adaptable to this situation.

Only eight people had died of illness on the colony, and none of them had been vaccinated. By all accounts the drug was a complete success and had been issues to front line troops invading alien worlds, a much more efficient system than the handful of pills given to human soldiers.

Under these conditions the colony had taken root, with the male members of the Mitoc race erecting buildings at break neck speed. They were quite cheap and far from perfect, but they were only meant to be temporary and the Dilgar aimed to replace them with more solid structures at their leisure in coming years.

The cost in building the structures in such huge numbers was vast, but the cost in lives was higher. There were no records of how many had died, worked to death, exhausted and discarded, or killed in accidents due to non existent safety procedures. Sometimes the Mitoc would rebel, a whole camp would throw down their tools and try to rush the guards. Once or twice they succeeded and several hundred armed people fled into the countryside seeking to join resistance groups that still defied the Dilgar. More often they were just massacred.

In the Dilgar plan the Mitoc provided inexpensive labour to build the new capital of the Imperium, they were fed simple nutritional food with a few additives to keep them docile and worked relentlessly. Ultimately when the building work was finished there would be no further need for them, and the surviving population would be clinically removed from Dilgat society. Killed like the rest of the League races under Dilgar jurisdiction.

The builders had two equal priorities. The first was to expand on the existing infrastructure to provide suitable accommodation for the Dilgar colonists. The Mitoc were a relatively short species and their homes could be used in an emergency to house Dilgar, and invariably would be, but new built Dilgar homes with all the basic comforts of home were now the main projects under way on the surface after the various military structures were completed.

The other priority was weaponry. The Dilgar navy was going to be stretched for a long time consolidating their possessions if all went to plan leaving the home garrison fairly weak and divided between Mitoc and Omelos., at least for the first few years while Omelos still existed.

To fill that gap in capabilities Mitoc was given the heaviest fixed defences ever constructed by the Imperium, dwarfing the substantial Omelos network. Four battlestations circled the planet while over a thousand armed satellites surrounded them in orbit. Scores of massive ground based cannons rested on the surface while thousands of missiles were buried in underground silos. While in terms of technology the Abbai and Hyach defence grids were more formidable, in terms of sheer weight of fire Mitoc was unsurpassed. Only the unknown Minbari orbital defences outgunned Mitoc, and those defences were designed to fight a far greater foe than the Dilgar were aware of.

It had been planned to add massive minefields to bolster the outer defences, but the intervention of Earth into the war had forced a massive redirection of resources and Mitoc had been left much as it was at the beginning of the year. However it was still a fortress and with th ebulk of the Dilgar navy waiting through the system it represented the best defended piece of real estate in the known galaxy.

Yet all of that meant nothing to Jha'dur, because she knew what was going to happen next and all that strength and firepower was going to be entirely useless in the next phase of the campaign. Earth was going to take Mitoc, and it wasn't going to fire a single shot to do it.

Her cruiser emerged from hyperspace with its escort fanning out around the bow in a honour guard. She was still using a basic cruiser hull to move between worlds while her Dreadnought underwent final repairs after the damage it had taken at Markab. Her ship levelled into orbit and within moments she was greeted by the commander of the Home Fleet, the senior formation in the area.

"War Captain Tor'han, it is good to see you again old friend."

"Warmaster, welcome back." The old officer nodded over the communication screen. "I trust you are still well, after what happened…"

"I'm as good as I have ever been Tor'han, don't worry about that." She replied confidently. "We don't have much time, I need you to start the withdrawal at once."

"I have prepared a timetable for your approval Warmaster." He said heavily.

"That won't be necessary, I trust your judgement Tor'han."

"Very well, Home Fleet will be the last to leave, the other warships will withdraw in sequence with five minute gaps between them."

"We will regroup at Tirrith and there await further orders." Jha'dur stated. "See what Earth does next."

Tor'han accepted the orders. "May I speak freely Warmaster?"

"You may."

"I am disappointed we have to abandon this place."

"The decision was not an easy one Captain." Jha'dur confirmed. "But we can't hold it, and if we try Earth Force will bleed us dry and win the war before this year is done."

"I understand, but we have invested so much here, build the foundations of our home. Now we must give it up to Earth."

"We have no choice my friend." She sighed. "One day perhaps we will return, but for now we must conserve our strength. Our fleet is our priority, it must remain intact and not bottled up by the human strategy. We must withdraw everything back to our core space and establish a new defensive line, one we can actually hold."

"It is a hard medicine to take."

"I know, after all we have sacrificed." Jha'dur agreed. "This world was the jewel in the Imperial crown, perfect for us. We barely touched it."

"Our great prize and great hope." Tor'han agreed. "Our reward and salvation."

"Perhaps someone decided we shouldn't have salvation." Jha'dur considered with a slight ironic smile. "That we have not earned it. Maybe it is our fate to die, that no matter what we do, no matter the odds we battle and the impossible victories we achieve again and again, that we do not deserve to live."

"No one has that power to decide for us." Tor'han replied. "We do not serve destiny, we are destiny."

Jha'dur chuckled grimly. "And what a universe we have made in our war. For three years no one dared oppose us, and all who eventually tried were cast into ruin."

"Great days Warmaster, and they aren't over yet. We're not beaten."

"Every being in the galaxy quivers when they hear our name." The Warmaster said wit relish. "We came from nothing and burned some of the mightiest worlds in the galaxy. Look at what we did Tor'han, just look at it. We fought giants, ten at a time, any one of them could have flattened us and destroyed our civilization but we defeated each and every one of them. By the gods Tor'han we worked miracles every time we went into battle. No one has ever done that before. No one."

"We haven't changed Jha'dur, we are still the same soldiers who achieved all of that. We still have the will and determination to do it all again."

"Our enemy has changed." She pointed out. "We are facing our equals and opposites, our own reflection. Everything has changed, and we must change too. The humans show us what it takes to truly wage war. We aren't at our pinnacle Tor'han, we still have a way to go. But we are getting there, we are rising up to match the humans. Soon we will be able to face them equally. Then we decide which Empire will shape this galaxy."

"We will be ready to follow you Warmaster."

"And I hope I will be ready to lead."

"The old ways don't work anymore." Jha'dur continued after a pause. "They took us this far, but we have to embrace a different way of war. We have to let go Tor'han, give up everything if we want to win. Blood and land Captain, they mean everything but must be given as if they were water and air."

"We will all make the ultimate sacrifice on your word Warmaster."

She lowered her head. "And I am humbled by that knowledge Tor'han. No leader had a more noble or glorious fleet. But we shouldn't have to. We bled and fought and died for this, we battle dup hill all the way. We did the impossible, just the impossible, we earned our victory, we earned this world, our new home, our lifeline. We deserve this, and it is going to be stripped from us! What justice is that?"

"None at all Warmaster. Fate takes from us everything, and we must fight to take it back."

"And what a war we made." Jha'dur smiled. "No one will ever forget us. Perhaps immortality is not so difficult to achieve after all."

As they spoke the various fleets had been leaving and heading for home, soon just the Home Fleet remained.

"It took us a year to conquer these worlds, and less than five months to lose them." She remarked.

"We will rise again, and return to the League in even greater strength." Tor'han pronounced. "It is who we are."

"They have taken everything we battle for." She mused. "And they will snatch away our home soon too. We're all going to die, everything in the universe is conspiring to drive us to extinction."

Her blue eyes grew distant.

"But if we die, then I swear I will plunge half the galaxy into hell with us. We earned survival, we won it, and if it is denied us, if we are not worthy to live after all we have done to survive than no one is worthy, and I will make it my quest to guarantee our extinction haunts the galaxy for ever. I will do such harm that the gods of this universe will weep for eternity in memory of the suffering and death I will give to their favoured children. This I swear on my name and the tombs of every Dilgar who ever lived and died in war, we won't be beaten, even if that means every single other person in the galaxy has to die and just one sole life remains in the whole of creation! That life will be a Dilgar."

Tor'han kept his silence, slightly taken aback by the Warmaster's outburst. However he had his duty and he knew if anyone could turn around the Dilgar fortunes it would be Jha'dur. "Then to battle we will go, or to hell."

"Probably both." She answered. "But we do not go quietly and we do not go alone."

"Our last evacuation transports are loading up, they will be ready to leave within an hour."

"Understood Captain, leave me three Pentacans as escort, then depart yourself. Head for Tirrith."

"I would prefer to stay Warmaster."

"I understand, but we can't risk the Home Fleet. Go now old friend, and I will see you at Tirrith."

He accepted his orders, nodded formally, then ended the message allowing Jha'dur to sit back in her command chair with a sigh.

"Mitoc was our reward An'jash." She said out loud. "It was ours, it was mine."

"It was Warmaster."

"I held it in my grasp, I breathed its air, walked its grass. We were so careful, so respectful. It was a prize, perfection, the answer to our prayers. The universe gave it to us, and now when we had grown to love it the gods just snatch it away."

An'jash did not answer, he knew when the Warmaster did not want interrupting.

"We did nothing wrong, nothing." She continued. "Yet we are taunted, mocked, tossed around like a plaything. Well not anymore. I won't stand for it, I am making a choice and I deny these made up gods!"

She stood up on deck, furious.

"I will not surrender Mitoc! It is mine to do with as I see fit!" She yelled at no one in particular. "No, no, no, no, no! If I can't have it, no one will! No one!"

She crashed back in her chair, eyes burning in utter anger. "I want the defence grid on line right now! Route control to this ship, use my command code."

An'jash worked quickly, bringing the various weapon systems on line, satellites, stations and ground defences. "All weapons are available and at your command Warmaster."

"Good, now turn the satellites around."

"Warmaster?"

"Point them at the planet." Jha'dur's rage evaporated, replaced by a clinical calm. "Quickly Captain, before we have to leave."

"With respect Warmaster, this course of action could result in significant loss of life to our people on the planet below."

"I should bloody well hope so!" She exclaimed. "I'm going to kill them all."

An'jash kept a straight face despite the disbelief he rmind was fighting against.

"Warmaster, there are twenty million civilians on the surface, not to mention billions of slaves."

"This world is dead Captain, its gone, finished. We can't save it and I'm not letting it go. "

"It is still well defended, it could hold out for years."

"Merely weeks without the supply line." Jha'dur began to explain. "We built guns, command installations, sensor platforms, communication arrays, houses, even offices. We didn't build any ship yards. We didn't build weapons factories or fighter lines, we didn't build refineries or resource extractors. We have thousands of guns but once the reserves run out no way to power them. We have thousands of ships but no way to refuel or repair them! This place has even less ability to hold out that the League worlds had! It's finished, and we can't even save the colonists. Well, just the useful ones."

"But there is no need to kill them all Warmaster."

"Any Dilgar would chose death before surrender.." Jha'dur answered clearly. "Better they die by my hand than by a humon or filthy League hand. I rul the Imperium, they ar emy people, mine to command and I command them not to be taken alive. They'd agree with me, of course they would. They would ask me to kill them, each and every one, they want it to happen. They welcome the death I bring, they are praying for it. I won't disappoint."

An'jash focused on the Warmaster with growing horror, she was having a hard time reconciling what she heard now with the Officer she had served with before.

"I thought we were coming back Warmaster."

"Don't fool yourself An'jash, we're never going to make it back here."

"But you told…"

"I told Tor'han what he needed to hear, and rest assured I was not being idle in my boast, I will send this galaxy to hell. Starting right here."

"But our fleet, the counter attack…"

"We won't have anywhere near the resources to beat Earth in a prolonged war, their territory is too large, and right now our territory is shrinking by the hour. It's a losing circle Captain, the best we can hope for is to bury the advance in dead bodies. Ours and theirs."

An'jash shook her head. "We can't lose, not after all this!"

"Well we can't win Captain, I had hoped you would have seen that."

"But your plan, if we can't win why fight on?"

"Because while we can't win the war, we can still beat our enemies in battle." She smiled. "It will be a set back, ten years, twenty perhaps they will rebuild and come at us again, and by then Omelos is gone. Nothing will stop them. But first, before that time we can wage the biggest battle in history and we can win. We can stand face to face with Earth Force and see which of us is superior. That is why we fight on, to make sure nobody forgets who the true masters of war are in this galaxy." She smiled. "Call it part of my legacy."

The realisation that the greatest Warmaster had no master plan for survival was crushing to An'jash, when Jha'dur had spoken of past glory she had been bolstered, her spirits raised, but now she found her hopes being crushed.

"I thought we were going to force them into an armistice, inflict so many losses they give up?"

"We will, and I expect the humans will accept it and we can leave in our own little corner of space until the sun explodes." Jha'dur remarked. "But if you think the Drazi will honour it, or most of the other League? No, they will come for us eventually by themselves and we won't be able to fight back. Then it ends finally, unless we chose to do something remarkable, to not simply fight for years but to expend ourselves in a final glorious challenge."

She nodded.

"We will die, but we will die well. I can't see it ending another way, not anymore."

"But if we hold Alaca, Balos and Tirrith, those are our main resource worlds. With them we can still maintain our warmachine."

"We could."

"Design new ships, mass produce them, evacuate to Alaca instead of here to Mitoc! We can live on, fight on! Surely you must see this Warmaster?"

"We did everything to win, and we still lost. Nothing matters anymore." She replied "Nothing."

The console beeped indicating the weapons were in position.

"We'll fire when the last transport leaves."

"Warmaster, I firmly believe you are the finest Commander in space, and I will follow you to death without fear." An'jash announced. "I have never questioned your orders, but I am asking you to step back and look at what you are doing."

"I am saving these people from being League slaves. I am delivering them to bliss."

"Twenty million people Warmaster."

"I've killed a thousand times that many."

"But not our own race Ma'am."

"It makes no difference, death doesn't care about your name or the colour of the blood, just so long as it is spilled."

"Warmaster, please understand."

"I do Captain, more than you it seems."

"You haven't been acting the same since…" She cut herself off.

"Since what An'jash? Since I was nuked? Since I was almost murdered in my sleep? Since Gar'shan was poisoned? Since I took over the Council? Or were you about to say since my Brother died?"

The Captain took a deep breath. "Losing someone close can change you, make you do things you would not have done before."

"Don't lecture me Captain, I indulge you because you are my favourite student, but I won't tolerate being psycho analysed by anyone."

"I just want to make sure you are still yourself."

"I have never being anyone else, everything is clear now Captain. Are you going to obey my orders?"

"To the letter Warmaster."

"Good, I am pleased I can still rely on you."

"I simply consider it my job to point out the consequence sof this action."

"Very well Captain, what do you foresee?"

"The colonists on this world are the social elite of Omelos Warmaster. Nobles, industrialists, executives, retired generals, politicians, governors and all their families. Warmaster, the Emperors sister and both his children are down there."

"How old is the Heir?"

"Eight Warmaster."

"Can he handle a rifle? Drive a tank? Fly a fighter?" Jha'dur demanded. "Can he lay the guns on a Dreadnought under fire?"

"No Warmaster, he's Eight."

"I could hit a Drazi at fifty yards with my fathers sidearm at fifty yards by the age of six. No excuse."

"He is heir to the throne!"

"He is useless and obsolete."

"But all these people, they have huge influence at home!"

"They think they do." She called up the names on a screen, setting them in order of importance. "All useless. The transports evacuated scientists, engineers, soldiers. People who can give something to my Imperium. The rest are useless, let them burn."

"The entire families of the War Council are down there."

"Not mine, and not Gar'shan's." She paused. "Actually you raise a good point. I want Warmaster Dar'sen's wife evacuated at once. I didn't know she was out here."

"Why her alone?"

"Because Dar'sen is a good man and a good friend. He has been my ally and has not betrayed me. That loyalty deserves to be rewarded, like treachery deserves to be punished."

"So the other Council members lose everyone?"

"They shouldn't have voted against me." She said simply. "And should have vetoed Len'char before he sent my brother to his death."

"If you kill their families, they will kill you."

"No they won't. they don't have the nerve. They value their own safety too much because they know what I'd do to them if they tried to move against me. Far worse than death."

"We're going to be killing every important Dilgar not in uniform."

"Then they should have joined the ranks instead of profiteering from war and blood."

"We have a quarter million soldiers on planet still."

"Prison guards." Jha'dur dismissed. "Political troops, the front line units are safe."

"We have a whole government set up, thousands of skilled administrators!"

"All cronies of Len'char. I assure you anyone of use has been evacuated. I don't care about the rest, all I care about is denying our enemy the satisfaction of taking this place, and these people. I can't trust them to commit suicide in time, so I will do it for them. Save them the trouble."

"I thought our job was to defend our people?"

"Our job is to kill the enemy. Anything else is secondary."

An'jash wasn't making any headway and she knew it. "We will be ready to fire when the last transport leaves."

Good Captain. I'm going to have one more victory, the most miraculous one so far just to spite fate. I'm going to beat Earth Force in a straight fight, and nothing is going to hold me back, not even this perfect world. You have your orders, inform me when we are ready. I'll be in my quarters."

The time passed quickly for Jha'dur, but felt like an ice age to An'jash monitoring the situation on the bridge. She didn't want to address the obvious question, the one forcing itself to be accepted in her mind. Was Jha'dur mad?

If she had lost her grip on reality An'jash had the authority to take over, but she was in no way sure that would be for the best. For one thing she knew Jha'dur had her Spectres nearby, maybe stood over her shoulder right now ready to nip any attempt to move against the Warmaster in the bud. Probably with a knife in the back. She had also displayed an excellent grasp of strategy, and while abandoning the core League was a bitterly painful decision the Dilgar position was untenable. By falling back, shortening supply lines and narrowing the front it gave the Dilgar a much better defensive position to hold back the inevitable massive allied assault.

Her command of ships, of tactics and strategy was as sharp as ever. The plan she was working on to battle Earth Force was as astute as it was inventive. She was the same Warmaster, but after listening to her philosophy earlier An'jash was not convinced she was the same personality.

There was nothing that could be done. There was the very real possibility the Imperium wa sunder the sole command of someone who was slipping into insanity, but at the same time she was still the most brilliant military mind the Dilgar had, perhaps smarter than anyone else in the galaxy. They needed her in command, and things like this were the price.

In the long run it wasn't much to pay.

"Bridge to Warmaster Jha'dur. We are ready to begin."

A few minutes later the Warmaster was back in her seat looking as calm and fresh as ever. "The transport is clear?"

"It went to hyperspace two minutes ago Warmaster."

"And Dar'sen's wife?"

"She was aboard Warmaster. As ordered."

"Then we have one last act." Jha'dur stated simply. "Launch missiles on a saturation pattern, ground based and orbital. Satellite cannons will fire on infrastructure. Begin now Captain, salt the earth."

Reluctantly An'jash locked in the targets, her finger hovering for a long moment over the final command button. She caught her breath, forced down her screaming doubts, then followed her orders and prayed forgiveness for her lack of courage.

The missiles rose to life first, shaking off their slumber and blasting out of ground based silos atop of white clouds stringing behind them. They rose straight up as expected before turning sharply and falling back towards the ground and the increasingly horrified colonists below. At the same time other missiles were fired from orbital installations timed to join the ground based weapons, the most powerful defence grid in the galaxy, thousands and thousands of missiles armed with a multitude of warhead types. There were even a few biological weapons fired from reserves on the space stations, scheduled to be kept for the final cleansing of the League. Instead they were turned on their makers.

The missiles turned into spheres of light and then red, blue and black mushroom clouds that formed above cities and embraced the ground in expanding shock waves of burning air and hurricanes of wreckage. The surface was specked with lights, glimmering for a while before the clouds covered them over and they reached thick and black into the sky. Particle bolts also fell from above like hot rain, destroying outlaying factories and structures the nuclear barrage missed.

Jha'dur took it all in without emotion.

"All missiles have impacted Warmaster."

"Effectiveness?" She asked. What she meant was whether anyone had survived.

"Total."

"Very well. Activate station keeping thrusters on the satellites. Degrade their orbits and let them fall out of the sky."

"As you order." An'jash nodded. The reactors on the satellites were like small nukes themselves, and many of their internal systems were highly toxic.

"The stations too, bring them down."

They were even more formidable, the Koratil class bases were huge structures weighing millions of tons each, their impact would be a catastrophe, sealing the fate of the planet. Nothin was going to live through Jha'dur's wrath, and nothing ever would again. Mitoc would be a dead world, blasted and lifeless, bombarded by radiation as it's natural cycles broke down over the course of years. Paradise ended in less than a day, and the most perfect world in the galaxy died in an act of spite.

"We're done here." The Warmaster stated flatly. "The Imperium has no further use for this world. Set course for Tirrith, best speed. We don't want Earth to cut off our escape."

An'jash continued to follow orders, not really thinking about it. The elite of Omelos were gone, the heirs to the Imperial throne, those dear to the Council and the many layers of government below, all gone. Not victims of an enemy attacks, but killed by their own leader. An'jash hadn't really counted the cost of what they were doing, but she knew it now and was just as guilty as Jha'dur. She hadn't stopped it happening, she had sided with Jha'dur and she had to answer for that in her heart.

She steered the ship away and left, a thousand burning stars spiralling down to the ravaged surface.

Comac System

Dilgar 54th Regiment of the Line.

"Alright girls, sit down and relax, I'm here to put you straight on a few things." The officer spoke quickly and gruffly. "Well its mainly just one thing. You're all going to die."

Fiy'dan raised an eyebrow and looked over to her comrade Yar'sal who just grinned and shook his head. The rest of the squad continued to look at the officer with morbid fascination.

"Before I continue I'd like to introduce the new guys." The Officer waved at three very young looking people in crisp new uniforms. "I can't remember their names but I'm sure you'll read them when you take the Identity bracelets off their corpses. Welcome to the Fifty Fourth and your timing is absolutely terrible, another twelve hours and you'd have lived."

Again Fiy'dan suppressed a smile, the Commanders grim humour was well known in the unit but as most of the regiment was new they didn't seem to get it.

"For the new people and anyone too stupid to remember, I am Commander Dra'ban and I am here to kill things. You will do whatever I tell you to do and you might just live. More likely you'll die, but at least you'll die facing the enemy and not facing an angry and upset me."

"He needs a new speech." Yar'sal whispered. "This material is a little old now."

"The good news is you just joined the best regiment in the Imperium." Dra'ban announced. "The bad news is you won't have long to enjoy the bad food and boring stories of the veteran soldiers. We're in trouble, big trouble, and as usual the Navy has vanished and its up to the army to do all the hard work."

The 54th was indeed one of the hardest fought Dilgar Regiments and had earned a reputation for bloody minded combat and extreme persistence. It had been deployed on the Drazi front for most of the war fighting tooth and nail against vicious Drazi wave assaults and armoured attacks. They'd survived knife fights, orbital barrages, counter attacks, sieges and the occasional massive offensive without ever giving an inch of ground.

That reputation had carried a high price and losses had been massive, during the war the Regiment had replenished its numbers four times over, enough replacement troops to form a whole new brigade, but each of those lives had been lost in stand up battle and the unit was honoured by anyone who knew of it.

Fiy'dan was eighteen years old and one of the most experienced soldiers in the unit having joined at sixteen immediately after graduation. She was quite short and slender which had marked her out as a scout, something she took to with relish using her agility and flexibility to hide and sneak into places most people couldn't reach. The Dilgar made no judgement on gender, women were just as welcome in the military as men and could rise to great power as Jha'dur had shown. They were usually assigned specific jobs based on their abilities, scouts were usually female for example while heavy weapons teams tended to be male dominated. Like most things it was simply an appropriate allocation of assets.

In this squad only her close friend Yar'sal and the Commander were old veterans, everyone else was new and largely untested in battle which made the inevitable crisis much more concerning.

While emphasis had been place don fighting Earth the Drazi front was still active, and though naval actions were infrequent ground fighting was as intense and vicious as ever constantly chewing up infantry regiments. The 54th had been rotated out of the line to take on new recruits and integrate them into the unit before going back into action around Deskartalos and giving the Drazi another dose of Dilgar fire. Unfortnately the supposedly quiet world they had been sent to was now on the frontline with Earth much sooner than expected.

"We have been sent two messages addressed to us personally from senior command." Dra'ban announced, activating the screen in the bland platoon meeting room. "Which tells you how completely boned we are. I'll play this one first, and for the benefit of the more stupid among you I'll translate what he means."

He dropped the first data crystal in the slot and brought up the image of a well dressed officer.

"Greetings brave and honourable soldiers of Comac."

Dra'ban paused the message. "He's flattering us because we're dead."

He resumed the message.

"I am Warmaster Sen'la."

Dra'ban turned to the group. "He's a known Moron."

"I speak to you in person at this grave time in our history. Our enemies, the humans, are about to invade the Comac garrison. You will soon be facing Earth soldiers."

"Actually," the Commander paused. "We'll all probably get blown to bits before we get a chance to face them."

"Our warships are resupplying and making ready to face the human menace." Sen'la continued. "Then we will meet the human fleet in epic combat."

"What he means is the fleet has to refuel so it can run some more."

"It is imperative that you hold Comac as long as possible to delay the human advance."

"The humans would bypass us if they really wanted to." Dra'ban shrugged.

"You must hold on, help is coming, we will return for you brave soldiers!"

The Commander grinned. "He's hanging us out to dry."

"Fight well and Omelos will remember your names. I shall greet you all when we drive Earth back."

Dra'ban ended the message. "In summary, we're boned and will die about five minutes after Earth arrives."

He took out the crystal and tossed it over his shoulder. "Useless, but we also received this message half an hour ago."

He put in the new crystal and activated it, showing Warmaster Jha'dur stood on a starship.

"Soldiers of the Comac garrison, I am sure you have heard the news reports that we are holding back Earth and engaging in a strategic cat and mouse game moving from world to world. I am sure you also doubt it is true."

Dra'ban nodded.

"Soldiers, I must inform you that we are losing the war." Jha'dur continued. "To be plain Earth has given us a thrashing and we can't do anything to stop them, not yet. We've taken heavy losses fighting them and simply don't have enough ships to hold the League, so we're pulling back. This means we have abandoned our possessions."

The Warmaster looked straight through the screen.

"One of these possessions is Comac. Our plan was to evacuate you, the Imperium needs ever soldier and I don't like leaving fighters behind. But Earth has moved faster than we planned and there is no time, even now they are approaching the beacon. If I sent ships to help you they would be lost, and Comac isn't worth fighting a losing battle with Earth other. I won't throw away ships in a gesture, and as true soldiers I know you would not want to be responsible for the harm a doomed rescue would have on our strength and our future ability to hold our territory."

She raised her head.

"The simple fact is Earth Force outplayed us, and we barely ran fast enough to avoid being cut off and destroyed by them today. No help is coming, we can't afford it. If you can escape on shuttles or captured freighters do so now, I will wait at Tirrith for you. If not I will not give you a speech about sacrifice. I give you one order. Kill as many of them as you can."

She gave a quick salute.

"The position you are in now is the position we will all be in before this year ends. Give us an example of how to conduct ourselves in the face of this inevitable battle."

Dra'ban ended the message with a smile. "See, that's the truth. I like her, but it looks like my marriage plans will have to be postponed."

The room was deadly silent.

"Alright, any questions?"

One of the new people raised a hand. "Are we here alone?"

"For now." The Commander nodded. "Soon we'll be joined by tens of thousands of soldiers."

"Really?"

"Yes. But they'll be human."

Fiy'dan raised her hand "Why don't they nuke us from orbit?"

"Our ground based heavy guns outrange them, we'd be able to shoot up their ships before they get into range." Dra'ban said. "So they'll need to knock out the satellites, land troops and take out the orbital defences on the ground. Looks like a standard human tactic."

"How many troops will they land?"

"We don't know, but at least three times our own number. Plus lots and lots of support."

"What kind of support?" A new recruit asked.

"Enough artillery to blow a hole in the planet." Dra'ban answered. "Enough tanks to tip us out of orbit. More bombs, rockets, missiles and assorted explosive devices than we have in a whole army group. Earth loves it's toys, I miss the Drazi. Least you actually saw them when they fought you."

"So Earth is going to spend millions bombing us?" Fiy'dan remarked. "I feel special and valued."

"Most of you will probably die before you see a human." Dra'ban said. "They look like Centauri but with less hair. Okay, now you know what they look like you can die happy never seeing one."

"Thank you sir, I feel more cheerful already." Yar'sal beamed.

"Good, I'm not just your overlord but also an entertainer." Dra'ban switched off the screen behind him. "Now go get some food and tool up, these humans are supposed to be the best soldiers in the galaxy, but that's just because they haven't met us yet. Make sure you grab as many plasma grenades as you can carry, expect a lot of vehicles heading our way. Eat a hearty breakfast, for tonight we dine… well actually we'll all be dead, so just eat well. Dismiss."

Earth Expeditionary Force

Hyperspace

Near Comac, former Brakiri Colony world.

"There they go." Commander Patel highlighted some rapidly departing traces on the long range sensors. "Tail end of the Dilgar fleet."

"They cut that very close." Hamato allowed. "Another few minutes and it would have been messy."

"They're accelerating beyond our ability to catch them, but the Markab fleet is requesting permission to break off and pursue."

Hamato considered it briefly, the more advanced Markab ships could catch up to the Dilgar, but then they would be isolated and fighting most of the Dilgar Navy alone. While Valna certainly wouldn't cower from the prospect it would cost Hamato a few hundred valuable ships for very limited gains.

"No, the fleet will jump to Comac on schedule." The Admiral ordered. "Let them go, we'll catch up to them later. They can't run forever."

Commander Patel tapped her slim fingers over the controls and set up the fleets new orders, deploying them to jump. Four full Earth fleets plus the Vree and Markab contingents were assembled for this operation. Hamato had been expecting to arrive before the Dilgar and anticipated having to force them into a battle. For that he was going to need every ship at his disposal.

If he held the Hyerspace routes the Dilgar would be forced to give battle, which was exactly what Hamato wanted. He needed to beat the Dilgar in a straight fight, more than anything else he had to give their navy a battering they would never recover from.

Liberating the League was great for morale and opinion back home was still entirely behind the war, but for Hamato it was just a secondary victory and he wasn't prepared to rest on his laurels.

While the Dilgar still had a fleet out there Hamato still had a real job to do.

"All ships answering, ready to jump." Patel informed.

"Make the jump, standby for immediate action when we make the transition."

Blockading a planet was not an easy task as the Dilgar had discovered, especially with so much area to cover and the nature of hyperspace. The chances of a vessel slipping past quietly were pretty high, and as the Dilgar stripped vessels from the siege fleets to reinforce the front line elements that grip was loosening.

Sneaking a handful of ships past a blockade in hyperspace was possible, but not a fleet of thousands. If Earth had reached Comac the Dilgar would have had to fight their way past and to do that they had two options, to jump into the Comac system and fight or try to run the blockade and fight a major engagement in hyperspace.

Jha'dur was an innovative tactician known to take great risks, but even she would never try and fight a battle on that scale in hyperspace. Earlier in their history both humans and Dilgar had tried to fight in hyperspace, not understanding why other races passed up the possible benefits of ambushing enemies on jump routes where they couldn't manoeuvre for fear of losing the beacon signal. The reason quickly became apparent.

Hyperspace is a realm little understood by even the oldest races, for the fledgeling Earth there was nothing to warn them about blundering into a disaster. One of Earth's first fleets and prepared to engage the Koulani in hyperspace as they moved to raid a new Earth Alliance colony. While the raiding party was turned back it cost Earth six of its early jump cruisers to do, an unacceptable loss for the new fleet.

The volatile nature of hyperspace mixed with its gravitic currents and inclines and the shifting storms of intangible energy made weapons fire extremely inaccurate, even laser beams were seen to suddenly bend on their way to their target. Explosions not only inflicted physical damage but also disrupted time flow, causing severe time dilation for one of the Earth Force cruisers which led to its ultimate destruction.

Since then the general order had gone out to avoid fleet actions in hyperspace, mirroring the experiences of every other race in the galaxy.

The united fleet exited the turbulent realm and settled into the far calmer surroundings of normal space, swiftly assuming a defensive posture and standing off away from Comac. As an approach world to Mitoc and under Dilgar rule for over a year it was well fortified and quite capable of shooting down a dozen EA ships before they could silence the defensive weapons with naval gunfire.

"Negligible minefields." Patel analysed the wealth of data coming in both from human ELINT ships and the supremely accurate sensors of the Abbai cruiser Syontar. The vessel and its escorts had long been the protectors of the League Ambassadors as they darted from world to world seeking help to fight the Dilgar. Now that Earth was fully involved and the Ambassadors had Earth Force protecting them Captain Cashic had found herself seeking a new and more direct role. As such she had been assigned to the Markab contingent where her vessel fitted in rather nicely sharing a similar level of speed and firepower.

The Abbai ships had the advantage of shields and a superb communication array and these assets made them a little too valuable to risk in heavy combat. Instead Cashic had found herself acting as a relay station passing orders between the human flagship and the various League vessels. It was the sort of job she had signed on to do, acting as a sort of glue keeping the different groups together and co-ordinated more easily than direct contact between the very different human and League systems. The Abbai computer was much better at translating than any other groups.

A few of the other ships had followed her, the Mitoc frigates for example and Pilot Tullaq of the Cascor, but most of the other ships in the fleet had been civilian vessels and remained in human space while the Alacan warcruiser Pyrotinia remained the official transport of the Ambassadors, now including David Sheridan.

While strictly speaking this fleet was known as the 'Earth Expeditionary Force' and none in the League disputed it, human ships made up three quarters of the numbers and provided the vast majority of supplies and combat power, there was a growing movement started by humans themselves to rename it.

Newspapers and broadcast channels had begun calling this collection of ships the 'Liberation Navy' and the name was beginning to stick with many naval officers adopting it. Cashic had to admit the name had quite a ring to it.

"All ships have responded, we're holding station outside Dilgar weapon range."

Hamato performed a quick check of the various displays showing the balance of forces and quickly selected the appropriate plan.

"Deploy fighters and take out the satellites, then prepare to land forces."

Many fighters were already on station covering the warships from unexpected attack, the flexible and speedy craft well suited to throwing themselves at a surprise attack and overwhelming an ambush. With fresh orders the squadrons began to assemble into attack wings, human and League, then pointed themselves at the planet.

While there we no Dilgar fighters the coming battle still promised to be a challenge for Lieutenant Commander Green, her pristine fighter racing out of the hangar deck and freeing itself into the wide open space beyond. April loved the vastness around her, the infinite reach and eternal mystery. She would always have lived out here doing something, but her almost equal love for speed and a desire to be part of the Earth Alliance had put her in the fleet. Now she could fly fast, rely on the closest friends she could imagine, and go further out than any human had ever done.

Her ultimate dream was an Explorer ship, one of the surveys charting unknown space that even the League didn't know about. But that was the future, for the present she had a Starfury, an excellent squadron and a very real job to do.

"Ghost Two formed up and packing."

She looked out at her upper wing, the heavy struts burdened down with a quartet of heavy missiles. They were a medium yield device, long tubes with shaped charge warheads used for penetrating armour on light warships or in this case satellites.

Half the Squadron had missiles while the other half would run cover, drawing fire and dealing with any fighters just in case the Dilgar had some Thoruns stashed away.

"Alright Ghosts, set up this attack run." Commander Sinclair ordered simply. "Pair up and advance, Command has assigned us a target sector, lets go clean up."

April fell in behind Sinclair himself, four engines glowing hot blue as they worked to push the Starfury ahead. Waves of Earth Force and League fighters were following their cue and approaching the networked defence satellites.

The defence grid was designed to support Dilgar warships, and unlike the Abbai defences wasn't meant to be the sole line of defence for a world. However it was still a well rounded design able to engage heavy warships, frigates and especially relevant for April, fighters.

"Targeting scanners sweeping us." Sinclair announced. "These things have pulsars, very effective, so do not underestimate them just because they are satellites. Point fighters begin interference, strike teams follow up and engage at will."

Sinclair adjusted course and began to pull away, increasing power to his electronic warfare suite to give the Dilgar a harder time trying to find him. The tactic they were using was extremely simple and distinctly dangerous, the lead fighter would race for the Dilgar satellite, weaving back and forth while blanketing the area with ECM. It was the military equivalent of jumping up and down and waving your hands in the air.

While the lead fighter did this the second fighter which carried the missiles would close on the hopefully distracted target and put a couple of warheads into it before it could redirect fire. In theory the lead fighter would be at lull evasive speed and wouldn't get hit while the second was shielded by ECM. It was a great theory, but if it went wrong it was an easy way to lose a squadron or ten.

The Dilgar satellites swung into life, their heavy weapons on standby waiting for the warships while pulsar turrets swung around and began to spatter energy bolts at the dodging fighters. Included in the mass of gunfire were dozens of missiles which in a rare occurrence the intelligence departments had failed to spot.

"Great, dump chaff and evade!" Sinclair warned.

April was already on the move, timing burst from the thrusters to dodge the incoming weapons but not lose any momentum. The waves of missiles began flashing past along with the pulsar fire, slashing across the paths of the various squadrons. Some fighters shattered, their wreckage rapidly falling behind while the other small craft darted on forward.

She watched the incoming fire, seeming to move very slowly as it headed her way only to accelerate rapidly through the last couple of hundred yards. It was all an optical illusion, but it could be very distracting for a novice pilot. Fortunately April had enough combat time to ignore the periphery and focus on what had to be done.

Sinclair cut across her path, decoying a missile which locked onto his fighter rather than April's. He performed a complex spiral and neatly evaded the lethal device, the missile blasting away towards nothing.

"Moving in." April said. "Get ready to clear the way."

He continued weaving back and forth in front of her, sometimes shooting down missiles, sometimes dodging. As they moved in closer the pulsar fire grew more accurate forcing them to take more and more violent twists and turns to stay in one piece.

"Warm welcome." She muttered, her instrument panel reflecting the light from passing energy rounds.

Sinclair performed another tight half loop, a pulsar stream singing beneath his fighter. He twisted again, spinning on the nose of his Starfury and flinging the back of the craft round to gun down a passing missile, the small high speed a target a worthy test of skill before he resumed course.

The image of the satellite flashed up in wireframe on the main display in front of April, a ghostly representation of the enemy weapon platform. She selected a pair of missiles and fed the information into their onboard guidance computers, their onboard systems would be smart enough to plot an evasive course and strike the most vulnerable areas on the satellite.

"Target acquired." She said calmly. "Ready to shoot."

"I'm breaking left in three, two, one, shoot!"

Sinclair snapped his Starfury onto a new heading the second April flicked the trigger and blasted both missiles away, then quickly followed his lead. The twin silver darts looped around and came in from opposite directions, the point defences too busy tracking Sinclair to redirect their fire fast enough.

There wasn't a large explosion when the weapons hit, most of the explosive force was directed into the satellite by the shaped warheads, it wasn't until a second later that the internal damage caused the platform to fall apart, engulfed in tearing flames.

"Well, that worked." April said cheerfully. "Next."

Admiral Hamato watched quietly as the sky above the planet was gradually cleared of satellites. Fighter losses were acceptable given the strength of the defences and now gaps were appearing he was able to send forward frigates and corvettes to lend some heavier long range fire.

"Admiral, jump points." Patel said calmly. "It's the Badajoz battlegroup."

"Our ground forces." Hamato recognised the name of the troop ship. "Who did we get?"

Patel called up the manifest. "The Fourteenth Mechanised Rifle Division, and the Ninth Armoured."

"The Red Dragons and Rolling Thunder." Hamato remarked. "A century and a half ago in World War Three those two units tore each other to pieces at the Yalu river."

"Now they're on the same side fighting the Dilgar, amazing how things change."

"Still, I expect we'll see some friendly competition, who has the higher kill count, who gets to the objective first." Hamato considered. "Well, not so friendly competition if you are Dilgar."

"I'd put my money on Rolling Thunder sir." Patel decided. "Not much can hold back an armoured division."

"I suspect most of the fighting will be urban, not ideal for tanks." The Admiral countered. "I think I'll back the Chinese."

"Very well sir, but I think the infantry will have a harder time."

"Infantry Commander? The Fourteenth includes a heavy Artillery Battalion." Hamato informed. "That is where I suspect most of the difference will be made."

Patel cursed under her breath, she'd forgotten the artillery. Her screen suddenly informed her the attack wings had done their job.

"Admiral, we're clear to deploy troops."

"Very well Commander, signal the drop to begin." Hamato said. "Deploy fleet defensively in case the Dilgar try to disrupt us, and then I would like a recon flight to Mitoc, see what they left behind for us."

Comac

54th Infantry

"Come on, drink up." Commander Dra'ban passed around the alcohol, a fermentation known as Ish'la'fran made from a plant unique to Omelos. It packed a nasty kick but was a favourite among soldiers for generations, especially before battle. The flask went around the young soldiers, each taking a swig. Some showed no expression, others winced at the taste. One of them retched. Huddled in the basement of a building they just waited each in their own way.

Yar'sal took a drink, then handed it on to his colleague. "That stuff gets worse."

Fiy'dan took the flask and sipped, instantly regretting the choice. "Damn, you could run a tank on that! How many do we have?"

"Bottles? Whole crate." Yar'sal answered. "A new directive is to use them as bombs, stick a flaming rag in the top and throw them at people."

"Best use for them!" She laughed. "Though I still think they'll do more harm to us drinking it."

When the bottle reached the end of the line Dra'ban took it back and drained the contents, then smashed the bottle over his head, which was fortunately wearing a helmet at the time. Once again it was a tradition, a superstition almost handed down by warriors about to go into battle. The enemies changed, the places changed, the equipment changed but the warrior spirit of the Dilgar did not. The problem was not everyone in the squad was a warrior.

Dilgar propaganda was a master class in the black art form, it had done an excellent job convincing an entire race that they were unbeatable soldiers with the manifest destiny of domination. It filled the heads of anyone who cared to listen with the notion that all Dilgar were born heroes and this was reinforced by the education system which was more a boot camp than schooling. It bred the mindset of a soldier, at least in most people.

But like any society there were those that just didn't buy it. On Omelos these people were relatively rare, so pervasive was the culture engineered by the War Council over generations that conscientious objectors simply did not exist. Any objection, any opposition was dealt with in the straightest possible terms. Execution.

Those people learned to keep their mouth shut, but they did exist and tended to perform poorly in the military services, so they were sent to rear lines of government jobs in the civil service or industry. As such they avoided the early parts of the war.

But now with losses mounting those people were no being sent into battle, pulled from jobs because a poor soldier was better than no soldier. Joining them were youths from the academies, some as young as twelve and thirteen sent into action before they could even shave.

To Fiy'dan and other veterans it was an obvious change and a sign of desperation. The best of the Dilgar military was greatly diminished, the old elites few and far between. Both the fleet and army had taken heavy losses in action and replacements weren't keeping pace, demand was outstripping supply. The best of the new recruits went to the Navy assigned to forces massing under Jha'dur, the army made do with the rest.

The Dilgar on Comac were veteran units, but the actual numbers of skilled soldiers were quite few and far between, and it was looking likely the coming battle would not be the test they were hoping for.

With a wailing chorus sirens began to whine, with Earth jamming communications the Dilgar had fallen back an more old fashioned methods for relaying orders. Messengers awaited to dart between commanders and field units while coloured flares and sirens would be used to deliver immediate messages. The purpose of these sirens was to tell everyone to take positions.

"That's it, they're on the way!" Dra'ban slapped his hands together. "Get up, get out, get down."

"This is stupid." A soldier so young his helmet seemed bizarrely large. "We're safer in here."

"Not from artillery." Yar'sal informed helpfully. "Unless you want to get buried alive?"

The young soldier did not, and hastily exited. Outside they had previously dug trenches and fox holes with the supplies they had available amid streets and buildings. It was a scant defence, but even the rawest recruits understood their predicament any chances for survival.

"Pay attention girls!" Dra'ban stalked ahead of them, the sirens fading into silence. "You will stay in your pits until I tell you to move. DO not get up. Do not take a look around. If you gotta relieve yourself, well too bad. If you ignore my advice, you will die. If Earth doesn't get you, I damn well will!"

He headed for his own foxhole, pointing at a soldier on the way.

"But that damn hat on tight or I will cut your fingers off!"

The young recruit quickly obeyed.

"Keep down, keep hold of your guns and you might just live long enough to kill something!"

"Well, that's reassuring." Yar'sal grinned.

"Who's he kidding, we're not going to live through this." Fiy'dan shrugged in simple acknowledgement of fact.

"Call me an optimist, but here's to false hope." Her old friend smiled.

The first few artillery shells were distinctly unimpressive, swooshing through the air to land with mere pops and thuds. From their landing points came pillars of coloured smoke and sensor broadcasts.

"Ranging shots." Fiy'dan guessed and crammed her helmet on as tight as she could, then brought her knees up to her chin. "I miss the Drazi."

She didn't hear the first rounds hit, just felt the explosions. I her mind she knew this was good, if she heard them it meant she was still alive. It did not however feel especially good to endure. Inside she knew she was dead no matter what and part of her just wanted to stand up straight and get it over with, but her body refused to move, constricting as much as possible into the corner of the trench.

All the noise mixed into one long roar, the falling of the shells, the whiz of their passing to the impact of their landing. Explosions thundered and compressed the air into ripples of hot gas that cruised like storms over the ground. Buildings fractured, foxholes were buried in flung up earth, strongpoints vanished as shells turned them into craters transforming their occupants into unrecognisable detritus.

Still the rain fell, screaming rockets mixed in with the ballistic shells. Hot metal thumped into the ground, several pieces falling sizzling into the trench around Fiy'dan, two of them burning holes in her uniform before she brushed them off. The building they had been in tumbled into ruin, smoke and dust choking the air and still the sky roared in furious retribution.

One of the young soldiers was in Fiy'dans line of sight and his mouth was open in one long continuous scream. She couldn't hear it over the rolling explosions, his face twisted in pure terror as the world convulsed in throes of smoke and thunder. A couple of them ran and vanished, their fate forever unknown, One of the foxholes took a direct hit and ceased to be, bomblets dropped from rockets clattered down from the sky and fragmented in smaller clapping explosions like a round of applause at a concert.

Finally, finally it stopped, the roar subsiding into a distant growl and then blessed silence.

It didn't last for long, over the beating of her heart Fiy'dan heard a fresh sound, a throaty grumble of engines coupled with a repetitive clanking that drew nearer and louder.

"Off your arses!" Dra'ban shouted as if he had always been stood at the top of the trench. "Get a move on! This isn't a party girls, we've got some work to do!"

Fiy'dan just sat there with her eyes closed breathing, willing her body to just go.

"Come on." Yar'sal rested a hand on her shoulder, a look of pure concern on his features. "We better move, this is no place to die."

Drawing strength from her friend and not wishing to disappoint Fiy'dan stood and was at once shocked at the level of destruction. Fallen walls and craters dominated the once complete town, its roads and rare parks torn asunder. She shook her head in horrific wonder for a second, then reached down for her rifle and killer missile, a long tube just three inches wide with a rudimentary sight to aim with that represented the new cheaper Dilgar Anti Tank weapon.

Staying close to Yar'sal they ran to a ruined wall a few feet high and got their first glimpse of human forces advancing into the settlement, dozens of tracked vehicles surrounded by infantry bounding and pausing frequently to look for targets.

"Well, least we saw a human." The male said enthusiastically.

"Let's hope they haven't seen us." Fiy'dan replied. "Some have different markings."

Yar'sal looked closer, and sure enough the vehicles seemed to differ in the specifics of camouflage. One group also had red five pointed stars on their vehicles while another bore white.

"Those markings ruin the camouflage." He noted

"Must be a tradition." Fiy'dan suggested. "And who do they need to hide from?"

The other veteran grinned widely. "Us."

"Spread out! Find decent cover!" Dra'ban yelled at his soldiers, pushing the slowest into place. Most of them wore looks of absolute fear but still took positions, rifles raised and waiting as the clanking of tanks got closer.

Not many of the Dilgar had heavy weapons, those few that did waited in cover behind the raw troops using them as a shield and distraction. A cruel tactic perhaps, but which best used the assets the Dilgar had.

"Form up, don't shoot until I do, or I swear my first bolt goes in the back of your head!"

Dra'ban set his people up on either side of a ruined road, one of the paths the humans were using to advance along. From along its course Fiy'dan saw the first tank slide around the lower junction, men running ahead of it and using the rubble for cover. It twisted its long gun to point down the road, then finished its turn and drove forward grinding masonry and household debris under its treads.

The approach was intolerably slow, a creeping cautious advance with the human soldiers preceding the vehicle, its weapons always moving to look for danger. The green clad troops were directed by hand signals, their faces hidden by enclosed helmets warn to wad off biological agents, chemical weapons or simply the common Dilgar Flu virus, all equally deadly to alien biology.

She checked her weapons, positioned herself a little better, then waited for all hell to break loose.

A sudden stream of blue particle energy opened the fight, the front line inexperienced soldiers firing as soon as the humans came into view. At once Earth troops dove for cover and fired back with their red plasma rifles flashing and hissing through the air. One of the humans fell and was dragged away by a comrade while a third was struck several times and dropped flat and unmoving to the floor.

The tank was quick to advance and support the infantry accompanying it, halting between the friendly troops and the Dilgar fire, simply letting the light arms fire bounce and scorch uselessly from its side. It swung its turret around and sprayed heavy PPG fire into the rubble, the nature of the plasma bolts causing them to splash and spray between fallen bricks and stones often inflicting injuries despite soldiers believing they were in safe cover.

With a crack the gun fired and a large circle of rubble was blasted into the air, flinging two Dilgar soldiers up and spinning with the explosion. At once defensive fire slackened as the untried troops began to withdraw, firing a few parting shots as Earth Force moved forward again, the soldiers rushing forward to make sure the ambushing Dilgar did not come back.

It was the moment Dra'ban had been anticipating. As the human troops drove away the raw troops on one sided the better trained soldiers attacked from the other. A repeater gun opened up from the first floor of a shelled out building dropping a pair of Earth Force troops while the rest threw themselves flat in surprise. With the escort pinned it was now Fiy'dans turn to do something heroic.

She scrambled up, stumbling on the rubble and slipping out into the open, missile in hand. Yar'sal was a second behind her similarly armed. The storm of blue fire raged over their heads as they dropped each to their knees and brought up their thin missiles to their shoulders, aiming right for the tank.

In order to get a clear shot they had to leave cover and were right now horribly exposed in the middle of the bombed out street facing the tank head on. The infantry were still pinned but the tank would soon change that, its main gun already swinging for the building where the repeater was. They had just seconds to take the shot.

She ran her training, switching off the safety, lining up the sights and then just firing. The missile was short ranged and had no warhead relying instead on kinetics to punch through armour. Both her weapon and Yar'sals fired without problem, crossing the distance before she even registered the weapon had been fired. A cloud of white smoke obscured everything around, an effect of the propellant which conveniently hid her from enemy fire as she and Yar'sal ran back into cover, discarding the now empty tubes.

"Wait, wait!" Fiy'dan called as they dodged back over the rubble to safety. "Did we get it?"

"At that range? Course we hit it!" Yar'sal replied, then also halted. "But no explosion."

In confirmation of their fears the tank rolled through the clearing wisps of smoke still active, one of the thin missiles sticking like a spike from its frontal armour while a deep groove in the turret showed where the other weapon had been deflected.

"I knew those missiles weren't worth crap!" She snapped. "I knew it! We need a real anti tank missile not those pieces of throw away junk!"

"Shut up and run!" Yar'sal grabbed the ranting soldier and dragged both of them away as the vehicle fired, blasting apart the ruined building with the repeater gun hidden within. At once the humans leapt up and headed towards Fiy'dan and Yar'sal who just ran for their lives.

The Dilgar were badly outnumbered and even worse totally outgunned. They had no vehicle support, no aircraft and no artillery allowing Earth Force to control the battle. It was a massacre, and no one on either side was in any delusion about what this fight truly was. The Dilgar had nowhere to go, and so whether ordered to or not they fought on. Surrender was not a concept that was in clear in Dilgar culture, throughout their whole history you either fought and died or didn't fight and still died. That concept had gone to the stars with them, and had yet to be altered.

The front lines fell apart as units fought until annihilation. The barely trained soldiers fought with great spirit, even those who were not brainwashed by the creed of the War Council. The Earth Force troops had been ordered to give no quarter, the lessons of Tiree when Dilgar soldiers had feigned surrender in order to detonate suicide bombs among Earth troops still at the forefront of the ground forces collective minds.

It was a bitter order, for among these people there actually were some who might have been willing to throw down their arms and escape the culture that they did not truly agree with. They never had the chance, Earth Force gunned down any soldier who moved without waiting to determine his or her intentions, they couldn't take the chance and Earth Force Command was not going to risk lives on the notion of objectionist Dilgar.

Artillery still fell to clear the path for the advance, breaking up more rubble and causing grievous injuries among the defenders. Officers and NCO's stalked the battlefield giving orders and shooting the most badly injured, a mixed mercy that some welcomed and others surely did not. Resistance was stiff and against just Earth troops the losses to the attackers would have been awful. However the Dilgar were not fighting man to man, but man to machine.

Fiy'dan leapt over a wall only to have a wave of blue bolts race past her head.

"Hold fire!" She yelled recognising the distinctive hue of Dilgar weapons fire. "Check your targets you damn newbies!"

She and Yar'sal got back up and ran across what was once an open town square, now a well prepared kill zone with dug in soldiers waiting on the far side.

"Human forces right behind us!" She yelled as she leapt clean over a trench. "Now you can bloody well shoot!"

A few seconds later the ground heaved, seeming to rise and flex as something exploded almost on top of them. Pieces of shrapnel and stone stung her face and clinked on her steel helmet. Her ears rang first with echoes of the explosion and then shouts of pain or panic. They were joined moments later by the dreadful sound of approaching human tanks.

She pulled herself up and leaned against a wall, a very dirty looking Yar'sal still beside her.

"Look forwards!" A blood streaked officer roared at the frightened young troops around him in trenches and burying themselves amid piles of shattered bricks and metal. "Fire at will! Die with your face to the enemy!"

A trio of tanks rumbled from the broken streets, bounding over debris to engage the Dilgar troops who now opened fire in earnest. The armour stopped and began blasting the embedded men, high explosive shells delivering horrific injuries tot he embattled defenders.

"No one runs!" The officer continued yelling. "No cowards on Omelos, only heroes!"

The tanks were joined by soldiers sheltering in rubble on the opposite side of the square in a mirror of Dilgar positions just a hundred yards away, their PPG fire supporting the destruction wrought by the Thor Tanks.

The two veteran soldiers joined the defence, firing a few rounds before moving to a new location to avoid return fire. The thud of explosive shots from the tanks was joined by rattling fletchette blasts, hundreds of needle fine darts fired like a shotgun into the defences inflicting yet more casualties. Like each other defensive line this one was crumbling as the dead began outnumbering the living.

Fiy'dan barely noticed the fresh men move in, a three person team carrying a hefty tube and a couple of large boxes. She nudged her neighbour with a grin and pointed over. "We need to cover those guys."

The newly arrived team quickly set up their possession, a more expensive and rare reusable anti armour missile. It had been originally designed for extremely long ranged battles to bring down aerial targets as well as buildings and land vehicles. With a few modifications it had been turned into a very potent anti tank missile.

The weapon team were veterans and were ready to shoot in ten seconds, a final check on their sights confirmed the target and they engaged. The missile burst forward with a scream and struck the middle human tank in a vicious explosion, peeling open the armoured nose, bending the main cannon and blowing jets of flame from the hatches.

The younger soldiers cheered while the veterans hastily darted to a new position, well aware that Earth force was smart enough to turn their firing location into a blood bath. Sure enough the remaining tanks hit the location with explosive and fletchette rounds shredding a dozen Dilgar soldiers but not in this instance the missile team. The quickly set up in a new position and prepared to fire again.

Fiy'dan was knelt right beside the missile operator when suddenly his head snapped back and he dropped dead to the floor, killed instantly.

"Sniper!" Yar'sal shouted, hitting the ground.

A second team member spun a full circle before collapsing, the force of the human marksmans bullet inflicting terrible damage despite the body armour.

"No, not this way!" Fiy'dan snarled and ran to the missile launcher, hefting it to her shoulder even as the third team member was shot dead, none of them having the first clue where the gunshots were coming from.

The Earth Force tanks were still firing when she pulled the trigger and was enveloped in hot exhaust, choking her and obscuring her image from the sniper who missed his fourth shot. Again Yar'sal was forced to grab her by the collar and pull her into an alcove of ruins.

The missile she fired had hit the nearest tank in its engine setting up a column of black smoke and wrenching away a track and several wheels. It's crew rapidly bailed out under cover from the human soldiers before the third tank throttled up and withdrew out of sight.

Hearty cheers sounded among the surviving soldiers as the human troops retreated, but Yar'sal knew it was going to be a very short reprieve.

"Come on, time to get back to headquarters." He started moving again, praying the sniper had better targets. Fiy'dan followed him, glancing back at the town square, weighing whether to stay or not, but Yar'sal's grip on her arm was strong so she went along.

Less than a minute later a roar of jet engines advertised Earth's response to the Dilgar defence. The two veterans were a few hundred yards away but still dove for cover as a pair of Valkyrie gunships tore the sky apart, the decidedly un-aerodynamic craft sweeping over and unloading streams of rapid plasma fire and incendiary missiles into the former frontline, the sheet of fire rising above the levelled buildings and polluting the air with acrid fumes.

The stayed low as the two aircraft passed overhead slowly, scouting for more obvious defences. The down draft of their engines was roasting, creating a hot shimmering of the air as they hovered for an eternity over the two veterans. Finally something else caught their eye and with another clap of thunder raced away to incinerate another area of stubborn defence.

"Right, lets keep moving, this place will soon be filling up with humans."

Fiy'dan was again dragged along back to the regimental Headquarters, little more than a few hastily cast bunkers and tents housing the command sections. They were all veteran soldiers and among them the senior officers had finally taken up arms to fight directly for the final time.

"Well, glad to see you two showed up."

Commander Dra'ban greeted the two battleworn soldiers with a bag full of Ish'la'fran bottles.

"What a welcome gift sir." Yar'san grinned.

"Light the rags and throw them at the enemy." Dra'ban informed. "Though I suppose we wouldn't miss one or two if you wanted a final drink."

The two old soldiers smiled at the idea, but the smiles quickly faded when an explosive shell ripped apart on of the tents and sent the soldiers rushing to the front lines.

"Well we'll have to postpone that drink." Yar'sal shrugged with some regret. "Maybe later."

"The afterlife had better have a higher quality drink than this poison." Dra'ban laughed. "Thirty years of service, I'd be happy if I never saw another bottle of this again. Well, maybe today I get that wish."

A chattering gunfire opened up with the now familiar and dreaded sound of armoured vehicles moving closer.

"Let's go share it with Earth Force." Fiy'dan took a couple of bottles. "It's only fair."

"You two did well." Dra'ban nodded. "A credit to the unit, and if we are the last of the Fifty Fourth, then we are also the best and our name will not be tarnished."

Fiy'dan pocketed the bottles in her empty food and medical pouches, then picked up her well used rifle, decorated with tied on ribbons and sashes. "At least we didn't get killed by Brakiri, that would just be embarrassing."

"We're the best soldiers these humans will ever meet." Dra'ban said with confidence. "Now we have a chance to prove it. We might lose and we probably will die, but we won't be beaten."

"So this is for Omelos?"

"No, this is for us." Fiy'dan said in reply. "We don't owe anyone anything anymore, weve done our duty to the Emperor and our people. Now its just for honour and respect, and we're going to be the only ones who will ever know. No fame or glory, no stories to tell. We just die, and make sure we die well."

"No point standing around." Yar'sal said finally. "I want to kill a tank with a bottle of booze, how brilliant would that be?"

"A fitting epitath, in the end drink kills." Fiy'dan chuckled. "Hell of a fight."

"Hell of a life." Yar'sal agreed.

"And a hell of a death." Dra'ban finished. "Come on, we need to find a good spot."

The trio of soldiers strolled through the makeshift base with no hurry and no worries, explosions shattered the world around them in a haze of smoke and dust, bodies obstructed their path and Earth Force soldiers were streaming into view, leaping over obstacles while a Thor Tank growled out of a cloud of black smoke covered in liquid fire and out for blood. Fiy'dan accepted her fate and walked straight for the human advance, her two old friends walking beside her as it always should be.

A few hours later things were quiet, the last resistance mopped up and human troops strode over the rubble kicking over makeshift defences to make sure there were no surviving Dilgar waiting to attack an unsuspecting human convoy. The handful of tanks lost in the engagement were picked up and towed away, some would be repaired while a couple were completed destroyed. The two different human units had joined up during the battle and now shared responsibility for securing the town.

Those soldiers who had conducted minor disciplinary infractions were given punishment duty, which in this case was picking up body parts and weapons before stacking them in a central area.

"Unbelievable." One of the American soldiers grunted as he dragged a Dilgar soldier from the rubble. "Don't we have rear echelon bozos to do this?"

"Yes we do." His colleague, a Chinese soldier agreed as he grabbed the body's legs and helped carry it away. "But they're too busy filing forms to come out here and break a nail."

"Tell me about it." The American huffed as they put the corpse at the end of a lengthening line. "Well, at least it's a global thing."

"Same in every army I think." His counterpart answered. "Only in mine they sit on their butts eating healthier food than donuts."

The American shrugged. "Can't argue with that, but don't mock the Donut, it basically won World War Three."

"I still will never understand how you fat yanks ever did that."

"Because we're fat yanks with super weapons." The American soldier laughed. "Besides, we have to win or Hollywood goes out of business."

The Chinese trooper picked up a Dilgar rifle with a series of coloured ribbons tied around it. "This is new."

"Pretty." The American examined it. "Think they mean anything?"

"Probably." He turned the weapon over in his hands. "Might be campaign markings, one ribbon per battle."

"That's not a bad idea." The American nodded. "I'm gonna start doing that."

"Want one of these?" The Chinese man offered the Dilgar rifle.

"Actually, no." The other man replied. "Leave it, someone must have put a lot of thought and pride into that. It's not a trophy, it's someone's life."

"Yeah." His colleague agreed. ""We'll leave it."

He placed the weapon down beside its owner, then went back to work leaving them both for the burial teams. The ribbons caught in the breeze a little, twisting and flickering in colour for a moment before they fell back and lay still.


	75. Chapter 75

74

EAS Omega

Oracle class Cruiser

Approaching Mitoc

"Crossing final beacon now." Lieutenant Jack Maynard reported. "Helm steady, we've got a bit of a current but it's still safe to make the jump."

"Alright Jack, slow us down and get ready to go." Captain Carter confirmed. The last time the ship had made a jump like this had been into the Markab system, and the results of that were now largely known as 'The Omega Incident.'

While Carter was somewhat flattered to have his ship go down in history he wasn't entirely thrilled it was because of the incompetence of one of his escorting ships and Commander Jankowski.

Despite her less than perfect reputation the EAS Omega herself did not truly deserve it and was suffering simply by association. She was a good ship with a good crew and highly capable at doing her job, that of space monitoring as part of a fleet group. She was built to scan vast areas of space, track enemy movements and then feed that information to the various cruisers and dreadnoughts which would then take the appropriate action.

Because of their sensors these ships also tended to be used for exploration missions and in times of war scouting enemy defences, and in that role the Omega and Captain Carter had proven themselves rather good, the Markab situation aside.

Earth was working on a pure Exploration starship with a sensor array that made Carter's pale in comparison, but those monster ships were at least a decade away and until then the increasingly old and creaky Oracle class fleet had to suffice.

"Get me a channel to the Hermione and warm up the jump drive."

"Ready sir."

"Captain Hasegawa, you receiving?"

"I hear you Captain Carter, our waypoint shows we're almost to Mitoc."

"We're calculated jump coordinates now." Carter replied. "We'll move in a fe wmillion miles from the planet and search for enemies. If we use our engines to jump in, you can run yours on standby and be ready to open a jump point out if we run into big trouble."

"Understood." Hasegawa confirmed. "We'll be standing by for your signal, jump engines and weapons warmed up and ready just in case."

"I'll let you know, be ready to follow us up. Omega out."

Earth Force had learned from its mistake with the original Omega mission and instead of sending a pair on Frigates they had sent a single jump capable Heavy Cruiser, namely the EAS Hermione. They had also made very sure that Captain Hasegawa was a steady and measured commanding officer and not a politically appointed power grabber like Jankowski.

"Navigation plotted in Captain." Maynard informed. "We're good to go."

"Signal Hermione, then make the jump." Carter ordered. "And don't forget to cross your fingers."

Maynard activated the system, projected the tachyon stream from the engines to the designated point plotted by the sensors. The red of hyperspace parted to show a window of stars and blackness beyond that beckoned the two human ships to return to the dimension that they belonged to.

The Hermione went first, weapons tracking left and right in case there was a Dilgar ambush waiting. A few seconds later the bulky scout cruiser herself followed on likewise sweeping space with interceptors and powerful sensor signals.

"No enemy contacts close by." Sensor Officer Tsing stated intently, her slender fingers bringing up screen after screen of data and expertly analysing and dismissing them.

"Hold at battlestations." Carter ordered. "Commence long range scans, we need readings on Dilgar fleet strength and planetary defences."

"Running it no sir." She replied.

Maynard held the ship steady, it would be a while until the jump engines recharged but with the Hermione nearby he allowed himself to relax a little, the reassurance of the warship's heavy guns proving to be a very welcome addition to the usually lonely job of a fleet scout.

"Still no contacts." Tsing replied. "Not one ship Captain."

"You're sure of that?"

"Yes sir, Dilgar ships tend to stand out on sensors pretty well. I don't have a single trace."

"Check the planet, they might be using it to obscure their sensor images."

She again swiftly switched targets, focusing the expansive sensor arrays on the world of Mitoc itself. The returns from orbit came back first, puzzling the young officer.

"Captain, I don't register any satellites in orbit, or stations."

"How is that possible?" Carter asked. "The last recon flight showed a massive defence grid. Scan more carefully, if they have found a way to fool our sensors there might still be a fleet out there."

"I can't see any trace at all, if it's a trick they've made it a really good one." She continued checking, it was another half minute before she actually noticed abnormal readings from the planet as well.

"Captain, you need to see this."

"Have you found them?"

"I think so sir, I have what looks like a station, or at least the mass indicates the remains of something that big."

"Where."

"Sir, it's on the planet."

Carter frowned in a moment of confusion. "Actually on the surface?"

"Yes sir, everything, the whole defence grid. I'm reading hundreds of major impacts that were probably weapon platforms."

"That's just insane Lieutenant, I mean the damage to the planet would be massive!"

"Preliminary scans agree sir."

"But they had millions of their own people down there!" Carter exclaimed in muddled anger. "Why didn't they just blow the defences up in orbit?"

"Maybe for this exact reason sir. To render the planet lifeless."

Carter leaned into his seatbelts, red with the absolute fury of what had happened and a frustration of an intensity he had never known before. "They deliberately killed those people so we wouldn't have them?"

"Yes sir, that would be my guess. There's also evidence of extensive orbital strikes and biological attacks."

He looked at the navigational map showing the blinking spot of Mitoc, imagining the toxic morass it had turned into.

"Life signs?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, but at this range it's hard to tell exactly."

"Move in closer, and inform Fleet Command at once."

The Earth Force ships moved closer, registering a few old wrecks left over from the initial fall of the planet a year earlier. The sensor readings grew more specific and more sickening.

"All this happened in the last few days sir."

"Unbelievable." Carter said, cold and numb at the scene. "They wiped it all out, all of it out of some sort of spite."

"The Atmosphere is un-breathable sir."

"Is there any disaster beacons, and communication?"

"No sir." Tsing answered hollowly. "Nothing."

The ships optical recorders showed an image of the planet, its surface obscured by choking clouds of dust and smoke. It was smouldering ball of ash, fires raging across the globe consuming those areas not directly levelled or blasted from orbit. With typical efficiency the Dilgar had grouped almost all of the population of Mitoc into centralised camps near major cities. Those camps along with the Dilgar settlements had been bombed directly before the planet was torched.

"Broadcast on all frequencies, send a message down there, anything, just try to see if anyone is left to answer."

"To any survivors, this is Earth Force, please respond and we will evacuate you." Tsing spoke. "Please respond."

"Put it on a loop and monitor for any reply." Carter ordered. Looking at the scale of the destruction he was no optimistic. "This place was a fortress."

"Yes sir." Tsing agreed. "Our projections showed it would hold for a few months at least."

"How could they just throw it away, I mean we would have let the Dilgar go home after the war, all of them."

"It doesn't make sense sir, to burn a whole world almost on a whim."

"Who could do that?" Carter asked bitterly. "Just who are we fighting?"

Omelos

Dilgar Capital world

Imperial City

The Dilgar had long been a prideful race, beloved of decoration and adornment the senior members of the race delighted in showing their wealth and prowess. The chambers and building where the War Council met was heavily decorated with trophies of war and ancient battleflags, a constant reminder of the martial history of the world and the duty of the Council to preserve and further that glory.

The Imperial palace was the same but on a scale so much grander it made the Council chambers appear drab and uninspired. Every inch of the corridors, halls and rooms was gilded and carved in a layer of attention and detail so exquisite it made the ancient human and even Centauri palaces look cheap. The different wings were in slightly different styles of décor, mainly because the furniture, carvings and panellings had been removed from the palaces of conquered kings and princes before being rebuilt and incorporated into this one Imperial residence.

The bones of the building were stones from ancient castles, its skin stripped from palaces and its heart was the scion of the great conquering families of the Prime Dilgar. The building and its owners were the amalgam of Dilgar history and purpose with contributions from every corner of the world. Each conquest had brought a new wing to the sprawling building, new treasures and art looted from vanquished foes and new blood to add into the Imperial bloodline as princesses and heirs were forcible wed into the ruling and victorious kingly family.

This however was only done with the lords of the Prime Dilgar, the dominant ethnic species. There had once been two other slightly different races on Omelos related to the Primes more closely than say the Xon on Centauri Prime or the Neanderthals on Earth. The other Dilgar had been just as intelligent and just a civilized as their Prime kin and in the event just as warlike.

They had been defeated, the final strongholds nuked into oblivion no the Northern continent of Omelos which centuries later was still an uninhabitable wasteland. There was now only one Dilgar race, and its two most shining examples were currently within the palace.

One was the Emperor, the other was Warmaster Jha'dur.

Jha'dur was well known as the hero of the Imperium, a great thinker, designer and most importantly to most of the populace a flawless military leader. It was of course all an image projected by the propaganda machine that kept the population at war and toiling in hardship for their destiny, and something Jha'dur was content to bask in.

The Emperor was an altogether different creature. He had done virtually noting worthy of note in his life, while he was the nominal commander in chief of the military and wore a uniform so bedecked in gold it weighed more than a combat harness he had never actually seen battle, or even a training exercise. He was no politician despite being head of state and while in theory he could overrule the Council and rule by decree he had never once used this right. The last Emperor who tried was found dead one morning with no marks on his body. He signed official documents, made the occasional speech prepared by the War Council, and pinned medals on chests. That was the extent of his role in Dilgar society.

Emperor Van'art did however hold a position of great potential power. While he himself was nothing special he was the face of a dynasty that had come to embody the brutal glory of Omelos. While he himself was a slightly out of shape man of forty something years his ancestors had been counted among the greatest warriors of all time. They had been master strategists, innate politicians and legendary fighters in single combat. Paintings of heavily armoured Dilgar lords smashing hammers and axes down on subspecies of Dilgar were everywhere in the palace.

Tradition was still a powerful force and that mighty blood still ran in Van'art's veins. If he did take the time and inclination to publically address the people and call them to a course of action that opposed the Council it could be incredibly divisive and at this critical time the Dilgar fleet could not afford internal power struggles.

Usually the Emperor towed the line very well, the Council ran the planet and he was allowed to indulge in drink and women without much interruption. However given recent events that looked like it might change.

A pair of armoured guards opened a set of huge double doors for the Warmaster, their bodies clad in black metal like living history. She passed by them into a large reception hall with another set of doors in the far wall, the doors to the Throne room itself. In front and to the right was an old wooden table with an out of place computer resting on it and a well dressed administrator awaiting her presence.

"Warmaster, I must inform you that you are thirteen minutes late."

Jha'dur raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I care?"

"It is not customary to keep his Majesty waiting."

Jha'dur considered two possible responses to the chiding, she decided to go with the second option and simply smiled. "May I go through now?"

"Of course Warmaster, that is why you were summoned of course."

She kept smiling as he tapped a key and moments later the doors ahead were pulled open by two more Royal Guards decked in black armour. The idea of being summoned was not new and it was enshrined in law, but Emperor Van'art had never summoned anyone before and certainly not someone as important as a Warmaster.

The Throne room was even more stunning than the rest of the palace, an explosion of gold marble enhancing the rich and warm tones of the room. Hard stone mixed with luxurious rugs and hanging curtains lined the hall while a single long purple strip of carpet led to the ridiculously ornate chair itself.

Sat within that chair flanked by four guards was the Emperor, leaning forward resting on his elbows staring at Jha'dur. The Warmaster took her time, admiring the fully painted ceiling, the statues and stacks of old weapons including the suits of armour and axes of the great Emperors whose glorious exploits would overshadow even Jha'dur in the public imagination. Perhaps in five centuries her story would be just as well known, if all went well she'd be around to tell it in person.

"You summoned me, Emperor." She bowed with a flourish showing no sign of awe or trepidation. "And by our laws I bow to the throne of the Imperium."

The Emperor raised his head and glared with bloodshot eyes at the Warmaster, a look full of so much rage and pure hatred it caused Jha'dur to raise an eyebrow in appreciation. Perhaps he still had some fire buried in there after all.

"You are here," The Emperor hissed through his teeth. "To explain to me what happened at Mitoc."

"I suspect you already know Emperor."

"You will answer." Van'art retorted. "And you will do so now."

The Warmaster shrugged and inclined her head. "As you wish. I ordered the defence grid turned on the planet, then dropped on the planet in order to kill all life on the world."

"Why?"

"Because if we can't have it, no one will."

"My other Warmasters assured me we could retake Mitoc at a later date."

"They were lying to stay in your favour." Jha'dur replied. "Or they were very, very stupid. Either explanation is believable to me."

"Are you saying we would have no chance of taking back Mitoc?"

"None Emperor, it would have fallen to Earth Force in days, and the population would now be League slaves. Better death than that."

"So you made the choice for them?"

"Better a dead hero than a living slave."

The Emperor glared at her. "Who says?"

"Actually those were the words of that man." She pointed to a massive picture behind the Emperor depicting the first and probably greatest Emperor of the Imperium. "The man you owe your position to."

"He did not put me on the throne." Van'art snapped.

"No, you'll find the Council did." Jha'dur answered plainly. "And Gar'shan ensured you remained there, because he could trust you."

"Trust me to rule as Emperor?"

"No, trust you to get drunk and not interfere with the affairs of state."

Van'art's eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps now is the time for me to do something, now that Gar'shan is out of the picture and you seem to be ruling like a dictator."

"Me? I just hold power for those unable to exercise it." Jha'dur said simply. "All my actions are on behalf of others, to further the Imperium and not my own agenda."

"I don't believe that for a second."

"Believe what you wish Emperor, but I am the right person in the right place at the right time. You don't have to like me, I expect nearly everyone to hate me, but you need me to fight this war and save this planet. That is all that matters anymore."

"The other Warmasters think you are slipping."

"Really? How shocking to me." Her words rang with sarcasm.

"You haven't engaged in a battle since Markab."

"That is true."

"You abandoned most of our gains without a fight." The Emperor continued.

"Also true."

"And now this outrage at Mitoc." Van'art snarled. "They say you have lost your fire, that you are running away from the humans because they burst your bubble of invincibility."

"I'm sure they do say that, well, except for Dar'sen."

"Yes, you still have him blindly in your pocket." The Emperor dismissed. "But the others, they call you a coward and a traitor to Omelos."

Jha'dur's expression turned to a mask, cold and hard as cast iron in winter. "A traitor to Omelos?"

"You have lost your way, caught up in your own hype!" Van'art accused. "You don't care about Omelos, you just want to win! You just want to survive! You just want to do whatever feeds the legend of Deathwalker no matter what the cost!"

"I see."

"You lost touch with reality Warmaster Jha'dur, and I will exercise my authority as head of state and remove you from command!"

She glared at him. "You have no idea what you are doing."

"What I am doing is saving the lives of my people!" Growled the Emperor. "You are no longer fit to lead! You have lost your mind Jha'dur! You are as dangerous to us as you are to the enemy!"

"You don't know the first thing about strategy! And neither do those morons on the Council!"

The Emperor slammed his hands down on the arm rests of his throne. "How dare you shout back at me!"

"And how dare you decide I am going to be the victim of your little power trip!"

"I am the Emperor!"

"You are a puppet of the Council and if you weren't so bloody stupid you would see that even now the Council is playing you and pulling strings to get at me!"

"I am removing you because you are insane!"

"So you have a doctorate in psychology now?"

"Don't you dare answer me back again!"

"On who's advice are you removing me? You haven't even read my strategy for saving Omelos have you?"

"The Council knows you better than…"

"There Emperor is your answer, the Council told you I was dangerous and insane, so I had to go!"

"No!" He leapt from his chair, face red in utter twisted fury. "Murdering my children on Mitoc told me I have to kill you right now!"

The words echoed in the hall, fading into silence as he breathed heavily pointing a fat finger at the Warmaster who made no reply.

"You did that, you!" He spat, his voice breaking. "Not the Council, or Earth, or the League! You! You killed my sons! And I will make you pay." His voice was an animalistic snarl, massively in contrast with his regal clothes and surrounding. "You think you are the only torturer on Omelos? That only you have the ability to inflict eternal pain? Now you'll see what it is like, that is my justice for what you did!"

"And it will not be enough, because you will neve rfeel better and it will never bring them back." Jha'dur returned in almost a whisper. "It doesn't work Emperor, killing everyone who ever wronged you, it doesn't work."

"I will soon find out!"

"The Drazi killed my father, and I've killed hundreds of millions of them in return. It didn't bring him back or make me miss him less." Jha'dur said quietly. "Raiders killed my one true friend, but wiping them out didn't allow me to replace her. The League threatened to hem us in and cause our extinction, we had to beat them, to wipe them out to the last, but killing the League did not make me love Omelos more. It didn't brink Gar'shan back to consciousness. It hasn't prevented our fate."

Her hard mask dissolved into sadness. "Peeling the flesh from Len'char several times did not make me grieve any less for my Brother, and wiping out the aristocracy did not return to me the joy that departed forever after my mother's suicide."

The emperor lost his thunder, a new realisation dawning on him. "What do you mean by wiping out the aristocracy?"

"The Aristocracy created our culture, the chains which hold our race." Jha'dur answered. "The Conventions we live and die by, the society which crushed my mother's spirit after my father was killed in battle. She should have been honoured, she was a strong woman and her husband died gloriously fighting Drazi. But she was shunned, made destitute, trodden into the ground by the privileged who live at the expense of the ordinary Dilgar. And that killed her. The same nobility who made sure they were the first to evacuate. To Mitoc."

"No, you did not do it for that!"

"Every life on that planet was guilty." Jha'dur said softly. "All of those ignorant, over privileged bastards was responsible for my mother's death. They were not necessary to the future Imperium, the Imperium Gar'shan and I are shaping. They are useless and I will not tolerate uselessness. They had no purpose to live, but they did deserve to be punished."

"Punished? And who made you judge, jury and executioner?"

"You did, by appointing me Warmaster." She answered. "Though again that decision was made for you, like all the others."

"Do you hear yourself?" Van'art stared daggers. "You wiped out the aristocracy! It's treason! A revolution!"

She shook her head in disdain. "Try to get over yourself, you aren't vital to the future of the Imperium. You are tolerated because of tradition, that is all."

"A tradition you are destroying!" He returned angrily. "You are killing what it means to be Dilgar!"

"And if I doubt there won't be any Dilgar." She said evenly. "This is how we save our race, but make no mistake we will be different."

"You wiped out our own colony and you still refuse to accept responsibility for your actions!"

"Of course I take responsibility, and more than that, I take pride in it."

"You rejoice in slaughtering my children?" The Emperor's voice cracked. "By all the gods you are in for a nightmare."

"I'm already living a nightmare." She smiled slightly. "Anything you can do is just icing on the cake."

"You are unbelievable, such arrogance even now."

"Nothing wrong with enjoying one's work." She stated. "It was an excellent annihilation, swift and clinical. My best yet I think. Yes, I think I'm learning now how to kill worlds with the minimum of effort."

"While that world lived there was still hope!"

"Yes, so your privileged elite could live on as human pets?" Jha'dur chuckled. "Caged in a zoo, come see the last of the Dilgar! Terrors of the Galaxy! See them beg for scraps of food! I would see the whole race die before I allowed that, and as you can see that is not an idle statement."

"Who died and gave you the right to make that decision?"

"Gar'shan."

"He isn't dead."

"He isn't waking either, by removing him Len'char forced me to do whatever was necessary to ensure someone worthy led our race. If not Gar'shan it had to be me, I'm the only one beside him with the nerve to sacrifice what needed to be sacrificed for victory."

"And yet we're still losing. Well done."

"The war isn't over yet." Jha'dur shook her head. "In fact we have not even begun our counterattack."

"Perhaps you are waiting until Earth comes to Omelos, and then you will attack?" Van'art sneered.

"I will pick the time and place of our offensive. Not you, or the Council, and certainly not Admiral Hamato. I will choose."

"And what will you achieve? Total victory?"

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "If we win we will stop the offensive before it hits our main production facilities. Right now our manufacturing base is intact and our resource procurement still exceeds eighty percent. Giving up the League has cost us nothing, but has cost Earth time and resources. Every world taken is another step in their supply chain, another obstacle to replacing losses. We just have to destroy them faster than they can be replaced."

"And what then?"

"Earth offers an Armistice, and we accept. Move to Alaca."

"Alaca? That dump of rocks! Mitoc was our home!"

"Unrealistic in the current situation." Jha'dur dismissed. "And now of course the Council can't become distracted by wasting resources trying to reclaim it, can they?"

The Emperor shook his head. "Does Gar'shan know the real you? What would he say?"

"He would say I have failed, and that the Council has failed." Jha'dur replied sombrely. "And then he would order me to cut loose anything which stands between our race and extinction, which is what I have done."

"You have doomed our race to wither on a junk pile!"

"Only in an ideal situation." She replied. "If we don't hold back Earth we will be driven to Omelos and left here. Perhaps we will be wiped out from orbit. Oddly poetic."

"We will beat Earth without you."

"I'm not convinced you can beat Earth even with my command." Jha'dur answered. "But without me, you're all dead."

"Then at least I have the satisfaction of seeing you suffer and die first!"

"Everything I did, everything I will do, it is for Omelos alone. Not my own glory or reputation."

"I don't believe you."

"My every action is in honour of those who shaped me, or in their spite." Jha'dur said with an edge. "I preserve what I love and destroy what I do not, that is all."

"And Mitoc?"

"An embarrassment, the waste of Dilgar society. It was a mercy to kill them, and it will be so satisfying to see the reactions of the League when they claim that rock from us."

"You kill on a whim!"

"I kill with reason. I sacrifice what needs to be sacrificed."

"You don't know the meaning of either word!"

"And neither do you!" She yelled back. "You have no idea what I have sacrificed! You can't begin to guess, sat here in your gold palace what I have given up to do this for my people! Everything you want falls into your lap but I had to fight every inch of my life for scraps, I'm still fighting now against my own colleagues so I can do the right thing for all Dilgar!"

"You, you are going to tell me about right and wrong?" Van'art laughed. "The Deathwalker? Moral centre of the universe?"

"There is no right!" She roared, releasing her anger. "Is it right for our sun to explode? Is it right we were sneered at by the League? Well they aren't sneering now! Is it right we have to fight a whole galaxy just so we can live? Is it right that every single person in my life dies? Is it right I have turned myself into nothing more than…" She cut herself off and looked away. "No, you don't know what I have given up Emperor, and you could never understand why."

"And so now you inflict loss on everyone else to make you feel better. Pathetic."

"If we do not have a right to live, if my loved ones have no right to live, why should anyone? Mitoc was lost, it was not worth saving and it was not worth letting anyone else have. It had to die, and I had to do it."

"You killed my entire family." The Emperor laced venom on everyword, eyes hard again.

"I don't really care."

"I will make you care!"

"You never will."

"I am putting the Imperial Throne back in charge of this world, you Warmasters have ruined us!"

"You are a true idiot, Majesty."

The Emperor smilled a leering grin. "I am going to make sure your death is never forgotten., a warning to those who oppose Imperial rule."

"Look at the man behind you, the painting of Emperor Corol'as. Look at him. He is decked out in full armour, a warrior proven in battle. He holds an axe in both hands as symbol of his prowess and is pictured before a burning city surrounded by the slain. He was ruthless and merciless, cunning and intelligent. That is the sort of person you need to be to rule Omelos. This is a world where your closest friends can turn on you in an instant. To survive, let alone rule, you must be like Corol'as. I am. You are not. You may join me and do as you are told, or not."

"You come here to answer for murder and face my judgement, and then demand I simply follow you?" Van'art stared in shock. "I sentence you to death by flaying."

"you are nothing." Jha'dur smiled. "You sit in the shadow of the first Emperor because that is all you are, while I have risen to his level."

"I am the Emperor!" Van'art yelled.

"You are a joke." Jha'dur countered with disgust. "You are worth nothing, not you, not your repulsive friends and not the brats you made while drunk."

The Emperor lurched forward a few steps, hand grabbing the sword hung at his side. "By all that is…"

"Ordering their deaths was the easiest thing I have done." She smiled. "And it gave me joy to burn them to dust."

The Emperor could take no more, he was not a warrior but the pain of the loss and the sting of Jha'dur's words made him lose control. All thoughts of a lingering death vanished, he just wanted to see blood and destroy this preening monster that had murdered his family.

He jumped down the stairs with the blade gleaming, sweeping around in a fast glittering arc cutting the air with a gasp. His face was so full of rage and anger, his spirit burning so fiercely he just gave in and let fury guide him.

Jha'dur measured his approach clinically and calmly, timed his sword stroke, then just ducked and let the Emperor's strike swish above her head. She stood and drew her own sword in the process, neatly deflected the Emperor's back swing and with two precise cuts severed his wrist and right knee tendons forcing him to drop his sword and fall to his knee sin pain.

The Royal Guards at once moved, hefting large bladed weapons to crush the life from the Warmaster, yet none made it more than half a step before they collapsed in a hail of automatic fire from the Spectres which silently and invisibly shadowed the Warmaster.

"Watch the doors." She ordered and the invisible soldiers departed, all save Arn'dal their chief who materialised beside her arm.

"Room secure." He reported.

"Well done Commander." She nodded. "I am impressed." She looked back at the Emperor. "Perhaps you have some fire after all."

"I am the Emperor." Van'art yelled. "I am Omelos!"

"You can join me and help me politically, or oppose me and help me in Lab Nine. What do you prefer?"

"I am not afraid of you." Van'art said. "I have nothing left."

Jha'dur nodded. "I know the feeling."

She plunged her sword down with both hands into the kneeling ruler, entering at the neck and exiting from the lower back. He stared up at her for a few moments, made a slight gurgling rasp, then went limp. Jha'dur dragged out her blade, bracing her boot on the Emperors chest and letting the body fall to the floor.

"I thought he was for Lab Nine Warmaster?" Arn'dal asked.

"I changed my mind." Jha'dur shrugged. "He led his life as a pawn and weakling, but at the end he took up arms and tried to slay me. He finally did something like a Dilgar, so he died like a Dilgar."

She held her sword horizontal and watched the light gleam on the etched blade, red blood flowing slowly back and forth as she turned it slightly. "Doesn't look any different dos it? An Emperor's blood?"

"He died as easy as anyone."

"Yet this blood is special, it represents the only reason he was sat on that throne. Could have been anyone."

"The Emperor rules by the grace of the gods."

"Quite." Jha'dur wiped the blade with a cloth from her pocket. "Sadly I no longer believe in the gods. Dispose of the body quietly."

"As you wish."

She sheathed her sword and looked at the throne. "I could have shot him you know, or had you slit his throat before I even entered the room. But I didn't, I choose to stab him, to let him die by the sword. A honourable death. Odd that, no one will ever know he died here like this, but I still wanted it to be this way."

"The sword is a symbol of our military."

"Which is why I still carry one, all the senior staff do." She considered. "So do humans and Centauri on ceremonial occasions even though they never need to use them. I never need to use one really, but I find myself killing people with it more and more often.."

"It is an item of respect, the mark of an officer." Arn'dal replied. "It is the badge of your authority, to kill with it is a clear demonstration of your power and station."

"Perhaps." She nodded. "Or maybe I just like the feeling. Maybe I just like to be close to those I kill, to be connected to them physically and spiritually for that brief moment." She looked at the Emperor. "To touch the life I am taking."

Arn'dal stood with her. "That is inspiring Warmaster."

"It is a way of looking at things." She agreed. "And I know you understand, your reputation for close kills is why you are here, and why Dar'ro joined before you."

"A fine example of our breed."

"He was." Jha'dur nodded. "We had no idea then, what I sent him into. But I know he died well, he would deliver nothing less."

She headed back for the door, Arn'dal vanishing as she left, pulling the door close behind her to hide the scene from the prim administrator.

"I am to tell you the Emperor does not want to be disturbed."

"He usually tells me himself."

"I'm sure he does, but unless you want to barge in and demand an answer from him…"

"No, no, I'll cancel any appointments."

"He is sad and in pain, but accepts that sacrifices must be made for our world."

"So his family…"

"Casualties of war inflicted when Earth nuked Mitoc from orbit."

"But I thought…"

"When Earth nuked Mitoc from orbit." Jha'dur cut him off. "That is what happened. Soon you will see it on the news, and I am sure it will inspire us all to fight harder knowing the loss the Emperor took."

"It will be the boost we need, an even greater reason to fight this righteous war."

"Indeed." Jha'dur agreed. "It is time we looked at this differently, we are Dilgar and when the odds are against us we only fight even harder. Maybe it is time to show the people the truth, and see how hard they fight when they know they are cornered."

"They will fight like kings."

"I'm sure they will." She paused. "You have the records on genealogy here? The Imperial family line?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"If the Emperor happened to die, who would be next in line?"

"Well," He brought up the records on his computer. "With so much of the nobility dead it will be some minor member of the aristocracy, someone barely related who…ah, there he is."

The Clerk smiled. "How appropriate, the next Emperor would be Warmaster Len'char."

Jha'dur blinked at him. "Len'char?"

"Yes."

"Emperor?"

"Yes."

She turned in amazement, then broke out into peeling laughter. As she walked out of hall and through the palace the bedecked walls rang with the echoes of merriment at the absurdity of fate.

Later that day

A secure location on Omelos.

"So I have decided to use Mitoc as an example of what Earth will do to us." Jha'dur explained. "And to inspir eour people to fight harder, because if we don't we will surely be exterminated." She smiled. "Killing several birds with one stone as they say."

Laying beside her Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan gave no indication he had heard.

"There was no place for them in the new Dilgar order. Living on past glories and inherited wealth. Not even the Emperor." She continued. "We will have new rulers, appointed on merit like the War Council should be. Great warriors, great thinkers, great minds. That is how it should be. A fresh Omelos built for the best of our people, that was always our dream."

She drew a small sample of blood from his arm and fed it into a scanner.

"This is perhaps a hidden blessing, the disaster. Perhaps disaster is the wrong word, it is just an instrument of change. An opportunity to cut away the weak and preserve just the strong of our race."

The scan showed nothing out of the ordinary in the blood, much to her continued chagrin. Gar'shan should be on his feet, he was technically fine and healthy, yet he remained locked in this obstinate coma and nothing she could do would revive him. It was frustrating, and worse it was actually quite sad for her. An emotion she felt less and less of as the days passed.

Jha'dur still cared what happened to Gar'shan which was an increasingly rare situation. Beside her mentor and his two sons she only had concern for Dar'sen whom she regarded as a kind of uncle, a fellow mentor beside Gar'shan she had learned a lot of tactical knowledge from. She also felt strongly for Dal'shan, eldest son of the Supreme Warmaster and the closest thing to a partner she had. She had been distant lately, hadn't felt a connection the last time she had seen him but next time would be different, she would make sure of it. Some things had to be cherished.

"This war has made monsters of us all." She remarked. "And to win we must give way to that monstrous half of ourselves. I do not regret it, I only hope that when peace comes I can put Deathwalker in a deep dark box and never open it again."

"Such a waste of potential."

The voice made Jha'dur freeze, both in movement and in her heart. A chill ran through her as she slowly looked around. The room was empty, not even the Spectres entered here, it was like a shrine. They were however stationed outside in such a way no one could sneak past them. In addition to that the building holding Gar'shan was a fortress manned by some of the best and of course most loyal soldiers in the Imperium. The only thing that could break that security would be an armoured assault division.

Unsure of her own mind for a moment, she returned to her task, checking the medical arrangements of the Supreme Warmaster.

"Maybe it is best you don't wake up and see what has become of us."

"You speak as though it were a bad thing."

Jha'dur shot to her feet, hand resting on the holster by her side. "Show yourself!" She looked around the empty room. "I dare you to try my patience!"

"Patience is a virtue."

She spun and drew the gun, pointing it at arms length into an alien face which had not been beside her a second ago.

"So is mass murder." The Alien ended with a demonic smile. "Greetings Warmaster."

The face was not that of a Dilgar. It was grey and harsh as if it were carved of stone. It had no softness, no features of flesh or skin, just a rocky bone like visage that was cracked and rough, fissures along muscle lines allowing it to move and express. While the crested rock face was hideous enough the two baleful red eyes set within like illuminated rubies proved the most disturbing feature, eyes that were heavy with the memory of long years and dark deeds.

"What are you, and what are you doing?" Jha'dur spoke curtly.

"I am an ally." The creature replied. "A friend of Dilgar."

"We have no friends, so who are you?"

The red eyes narrowed. "That is not a good question to ask."

"Who are you?" Jha'dur demanded with more force, the pistol not wavering.

"My name is Salasine." It answered. "And I am an Ambassador."

"From whom?"

"From the Drakh."

Jha'dur smiled. "There is no such race."

"We exist."

"Not anymore, you see I have heard of you. I also happen to know the Orieni wiped out your homeworld two centuries ago. It was an impulsive move born of passion, and it cost them their war with the Centauri."

Salasine nodded slowly. "This is true. Our planet of origin was laid waste. But it was not our home, the best of my race lives elsewhere, the live in the most sacred world of the galaxy. The refuge of our true masters."

"How pleasant for you."

"Our planet was destroyed, many died." Salasine said. "Yet the best of us escaped, survived, prospered. Now we are stronger than ever and prepared for the day we are given a new direction." The Drakh made what passed for a smile. "Does this situation sound familiar to you?"

"Our worlds are different." Jha'dur said. "Our people different. The Drakh are manipulators, undermining their enemies, weakening them with lies and deceit. The Dilgar do not lower themselves to such games. What we want, we take openly with force or the threat of force."

"We respect that. And we know many powerful allies of ours will also appreciate your philosophy in time."

Jha'dur had not lowered her handgun. "You still haven't told me why you are here. Or for that matter how you made it past my security."

"We are but a shadow of a shadow." Salasine said. "We know how to go unseen. I am here to help, and we have been helping you for many years."

"Is that so?"

"Where do you think the technology for the Sekhmet came from? The intelligent computers linking together all the different League systems?" The Drakh offered. "You above all people know where Dilgar technology is, what it can and cannot do, yet you have seen these ships work when they should not."

"The Sekhmet class is a waste of resources. If that is your help I am not impressed."

"Then perhaps the Chameleon nets your Spectres wear might be more convincing."

"Gar'shan developed them before he became Supreme Warmaster."

"And where do you think he found the basic designs?" Salasine asked rhetorically. "We have been working with Gar'shan for years. Helping him, providing technology and intelligence reports. We have a strong working relationship."

"He would not sell us out."

"He did not." Salasine replied calmly. "But when you face extinction, no man will deny help. It took years to convince him, but eventually he accepted us and the gifts we brought."

"I never thought generosity was a Drakh trait."

"We share a common interested, both the Drakh and our superiors would be pleased to see a strong Dilgar Imperium. We see a lot of potential in your race. And in you Deathwalker."

"I am flattered." Jha'dur replied flatly. "I shall set up a fan club you can join."

The craggy alien retained its condescending smile. "We see an impressive future for you, when our masters return people like you will be in demand. Your skills and attitude will please them, you are a model of all they hold in high regard."

"Rumour has it you serve a race of ancient aliens who rejoice in war and destruction." Jha'dur stated. "Masters of chaos."

"Agents of change and progress."

"Rumour also has it they get their collective back sides handed to them in every conflict."

"Only when their mission is achieved, and the weak are erased." Salasine replied with a cold intonation. "The war has been waged for millions of years, the only victory that counts is the final one."

"The words of a loser." Jha'dur chuckled. "Your masters don't interest me. Now, if you have something practical to offer instead of flattery I suggest you do so now before I have my guards drag you outside and beat you with steel bars."

Salasine tilted his head. "How are you feeling?"

Jha'dur sighed. "Enough of this nonsense."

"Because I am responsible for waking you."

She paused. "How?"

"The drug that brought you from your coma? It was our own formula."

For the first time she lowered the gun. "How did you create it?"

"It was not easy, but perhaps we can create more." Salasine offered. "For Gar'shan."

Jha'dur looked at her mentor briefly, instantly tempted. She fought to keep a straight face. "His condition is much different from mine."

"But we can still cure him, if you want our help. We can also offer intelligence on your enemies. We have our scouts already among them, watching, learning, reporting."

"So the question is, what do you want in return?"

"We want a strong Dilgar Imperuim that survives into the future." Salasine replied. "We will assist your regime to make that happen. We have worked with a number of senior Dilgar figures, all of whom are now…indisposed. You now lead this world, so we come to you and you alone."

"I doubt that is all you want from us."

"Perhaps." Salasine said in his reptilian hiss. "Our masters may ask you a favour, but they are quick to reward those they see as worthy. The Dilgar are worthy."

"You have intelligence on Earth?"

"We are aware of their policy, we have people within their ranks."

Jha'dur weighed up the options. Salasine was offering things she wanted, both professionally and personally, it was like they could read what she most needed. She didn't trust them, not an inch, but she could profit from this.

"Very well."

"There is one last request." Salasine spoke. "Nothing significant, just a question for you."

"A question?"

"What do you want?"

Jha'dur stared at the red eyes. "Ask me again later."

Salasine considered it, then nodded. "Until later, Warmaster."

He stepped back and faded, disappearing entirely from sight within a few steps and leaving Jha'dur alone with Gar'shan and feeling notably colder.

She holstered her weapon, this was not a situation she was comfortable with but she could see how the Drakh could be useful, all she had to do was be very careful of the cost. Very careful indeed.

Brakir

Arikil hotel

Current residence of the League Ambassadors

All eyes were on the screen, the crackling image fed live from the Earth Force ships light years away at Mitoc. The conference room was packed, normally used for business deals it housed a long table surrounded by members of the allied powers all sat in total deathly silence, just watching.

The initial reports from the scouting team had been mixed and confused when they filtered through. Admiral Hamato had been initially very reluctant to release the information until it became more clear exactly what the situation was and what response the Dilgar were preparing. News of the capture of Comac was greeted with joy, especially on Brakir, despite the fact none of the colonists had survived the occupation.

After that the communication black out had gone up and that fed a series of wild rumours, from a Dilgar attack destroying the Earth Fleet to an idea that Earth Force was taking territory for itself and conquering Mitoc. The press at once began bombarding the Earth Force Public relations section with thousands of questions, often wild speculation, while a few rumours filtered through that the Dilgar were in full retreat. One Brakiri reporter even proudly announced the next stop for the allied fleet was Omelos.

Almost six hours after the EAS Omega performed its scans there was still no word until finally David Sheridan was informed over the Gold Channels that Mitoc had been destroyed. The news was unbelievable, and yet it was just one more act of genocide with a history of such vicious and cruel atrocities.

He had taken a few minutes, then informed his fellow Ambassadors who were now gathered around the conference screen to witness the terrible result of this destruction.

"We have a confirmation." A voice said over the video feed, the image shifting back and forth as the hand held camera it was filmed on moved. "That's another six survivors."

The screen was entirely grey until like wraiths a small line of people emerged, choking and hacking, bent over double, led by a couple of humans in full environmental suits. They were guided to a shuttle where oxygen masks and medical attention was quickly given.

"Understood, that brings out tally up to two hundred and twenty one."

"We'll keep searching, there's still evidence of life in some nearby caves."

"Very well, good luck." The second voice replied. "Hermione out."

"Just over two hundred." Ambassador Itala said haltingly. "Out of billions."

"We're still looking." Sheridan mentioned. "We might find a lot more in the mountains and caves away from cities. We have a massive search operation ongoing."

"And any life saved is a miracle." Itala agreed. "but after such a loss, what can balance this grief.

Among them, at the table was Marso, the Mitoc representative to this gathering. He had been on the run for months, joining the expedition with his surviving ships to protect the Ambassadors as they travelled to Earth.

He had not said a single word.

"Our latest reports show this pattern has been repeated across the League." Sheridan stated. "They've abandoned most of their holdings and tried to raze anything they couldn't strip down and take with them. The Cascan colonies, Llort holdings, and the Krish."

"Gods, not the Krish too." She shook her head, staring down at the desk. "They were the most peaceful inoffensive race in the galaxy."

"Our scouts show none of the worlds were hit as bad as Mitoc." Sheridan continued. "But death tolls among the Llort and Krish are going to be massive."

"We knew the Dilgar were heartless, but this goes beyond any sort of reason." Itala stated angrily, her emotions jumping from rage to grief and back again. "What did they gain from this? Why would they?"

"They did it because they could." Sheridan said. "And because they are so full of hate and spite they won't give us a single damn thing. They'd see it burn before they'd see us take it."

"The Dilgar still surround my world." The Abbai Ambassador said. "And the Hyach."

"But those worlds are still strongly defended, the Dilgar can't overwhelm and destroy them without massive losses.." Sheridan assured. "Jha'dur won't throw ships away doing that with the Liberation Navy on her doorstep."

"Liberation Navy." Itala repeated. "We didn't do much of a job liberating the Mitoc."

"We couldn't have guessed they would do this, it doesn't follow any common sense."

"Nothing they do follows sense." Itale spat in a rare display of anger. "They kill, and murder, and poison, and maim! They revel I cruelty and laugh at the pain they create! They are devils, servants of hell intent on bringing that nightmare to the real galaxy!"

"They are just people."

"They are nothing like people!" She snapped. "They are a plague that needs to be wiped out entirely."

"You have the support of the Brakiri Ambassador." Brocat agreed grimly.

"And the Markab."

"And the Descari."

"And the Vree."

Itala turned to Sheridan. "What about Earth?"

Sheridan did not even flinch. "No."

"You are refusing to stand with us?" Brocat suggested. "They may not have struck your world, but your own intelligence says they might have tried. Thank your gods their ships seemed to vanish in hyperspace."

"Earth is committed to beating the Dilgar." Sheridan agreed. "And to make sure they never rise as a threat again."

"So you will join us in destroying them."

"The Earth Alliance does not commit genocide." Sheridan said flatly. "And we will not allow our allies to do the same thing."

"You have seen what they are like!" Itala stood up in a rage. "We demand revenge!"

The other Ambassadors cheered their support.

"Revenge?" Sheridan shook his head. "Listen to yourselves. This is about saving your worlds! Not vengeance!"

"And why can't it be both?" Brocat demanded. "Tens of billions of people are dead! They must pay for that!"

"And they will, but wiping them out isn't the way."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes us as bad as them."

Brocat shrugged. "I can live with that."

"Well I can't." Sheridan answered. "Earth is not gong to be an accomplice to genocide, and if your governments do not accept that then you can try and fight the Dilgar alone. Simple as that."

"You can't do that."

"Easily, we've already broken the Dilgar fleets so badly they can't threaten Earth." Sheridan stated, not entirely sure if that was true. "Our job is done, Earth is safe, th eonly thing keeping us out here is public opinion. We want to free the surviving League and finish the job of driving the Dilgar back to Omelos to make sure it never happens again. We do this because the population hates the Dilgar and feels sorry for the League. You turn this into a war of genocide, everything changes."

"I thought humans were warriors." Brocat stated coldly.

"We are soldiers, big difference." Sheridan corrected. "And we've seen plenty of genocide, we've enacted it ourselves, spilt more blood than can ever be erased, innocent blood. We did that, we aren't proud, and we will never, never do it again. We won't let the Dilgar kill anymore worlds, we will die by the millions to prevent it, but we will not wipe them out when we win."

"If Earth can't see this through, maybe we should proceed alone then." Norila of the Brakiri suggested.

"Because that worked so well before, didn't it?" Sheridan pointed out. "No disrespect, but the Dilgar are still a major power, and Jha'dur is still directing them. The League isn't strong enough to take the Dilgar alone. If you try, they'll win and nothing will save your worlds."

"So all you need to do is get us to Omelos, we'll do the rest." Norila said simply. "If you don't have the nerve for what must be done."

"Nerve?" Sheridan raised an eyebrow. "Are you questioning our commitment?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well perhaps you'd like to ask the orphans and widows of the human soldiers who died to free this world? Maybe you should ask the men and women in uniform who are risking their lives right now to save the League?"

"They are not doing a very good job, are they?"

"We destroyed more Dilgar ships in an hour than the League managed in three whole years of war." Sheridan answered, still incredibly calm. "This is war, it isn't slaughter. We destroy military targets, that is all."

"This is just pathetic!" Norila sneered. "Earth can act like a saviour, but as soon as our interests and yours collide then the League gets overruled!"

"You want to kill eight billion innocent people. Damn straight you're getting overruled."

"Well when your back is turned human, then we will deal with the Dilgar our way, unless you plan to stop us?"

"Enough!"

All eyes turned to the source of the shout, surprised to see it was Itala's aide Kalika. "Just stop! We are allies!"

"We must…" Norila began.

"I said enough!" She snapped, actually making the far more important man sit back silently in his chair. "I don't believe we are discussing genocide! Even the Abbai." She stared at Itala. "What happened?"

"They killed billions out of spite." The Abbai woman answered.

"And look at us." She said. "Ambassador Sheridan is right, if we do this, if we become this we change and the civilisations we are fighting to save change into something else. We lose them, and even if we beat the Dilgar they still win because they will still have destroyed us!"

She spun on her heel and stormed out, leaving the room in sombre silence.

It took Kalika a full ten minutes to calm down, resting on an open balcony on the upper floor just breathing and looking out over Brakir. The streets were busy again, people moved around, shouted and cursed, went about their lives as if nothing had happened. But something had happened, billions of lives had been lost and nobody seemed to realise just what that meant.

"Funny isn't it? Couple of weeks ago they didn't know if they were going to live or die, now its all back to normal."

The Abbai female looked around to see a human beside her sharing her view, literally and figuratively.

"How can people forget so quickly?"

"They have to, imagine living with the idea you could be killed at any second for the rest of your life." The man replied. "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, slip of the culture." The man smiled. "You're Abbai?"

"Yes, Kalika."

"Paul Calendar." The man offered. "I visited your world in the past, beautiful place. Real jewel."

"I hope it still is."

"If it had fallen the Dilgar would be bragging all over the news." Paul shook his head. "It's still there holding out."

"Perhaps." Kalika looked out again. "This war has changed the galaxy, but we haven't even won yet and the League is opening up its old rivalries."

"Really?" Paul considered the idea for a moment. "Well it'll take more than the threat of extinction to change people. Takes greed."

"But that's just it, there was no threat. People are dead. People have been exterminated, whole worlds, whole races!" Kalika said passionately. "And all our leaders can do is demand even more death!"

"They want to nuke Omelos." Paul decided. "Course they do, they have to be seen to hit back hard."

"Especially because your people are the ones who have won this war, not them."

"War isn't over yet." Paul said simply. "We might not beat them, we've had it real easy so far."

"Easy? Do you know how many are dead?"

"A lot less than there would be if we hadn't pushed the Dilgar back so far so fast." Paul replied.

"Didn't save Mitoc, or Krish."

"So I heard." Paul nodded slowly. "I don't know what to say, what words are there?"

"None at all." Kalika agreed. "Just a promise to remember them and learn."

As they were staring over the city they noticed a new figure join them, stepping slowly up beside them and leaning on the balcony. He too stared out at the city.

"Captain Marso." Kalika recognised, her words catching in her throat as the Mitoc officer looked to her. "I… I'm sorry."

He nodded his mammalian head slowly. "I appreciate your sympathy."

"And I'm sorry you had to see that in there." She added. "That…frenzy."

"I understand it." He replied in hushed tones. "But it won't make any difference. My world is gone, we should not have left."

"You did the right thing." Paul assured. "Your ships were vital, without them the Ambassadors would never have made it to Earth."

"You saved billions." Kalika agreed. "Billions of lives."

"Maybe we did, but we left our world to its fate." Marso said. "We ran."

"You survived." Paul said in return. "You'll feel guilty about it, of course you will, but with you and your crews, your race will live on."

"We should have died with our people." Marso answered. "We don't belong here anymore."

"You're with us now." Paul spoke quietly. "We will help you, anything we can do."

"The League will agree to that." Kalika said with certainty. "It is one thing at least."

"Maybe, or maybe they will just strip the world or resources now no one can claim it." Marso shook his head. "Picking the bones clean."

"Earth won't allow it."

"They can't be everywhere at once, they can't stop it." Marso retaliated. "Our time has passed, we didn't even get a chance to see what the galaxy held. Not even a chance."

"It isn't the end." Paul offered with sincerity. "It might look like it, but you can rebuild, start fresh."

"It took his thousands of years to create the world we lost, by the time we're back to where the Dilgar found us the whole galaxy will have moved on."

"But you can count on our help." Kalika stated with clear confidence. "Absolutely."

"It is too late for us, too late by far." Marso said sadly, an unfathomable burden weighing on his brow. "I made a choice to run, not to fight and die when my world needed me. I can do nothing more now, my whole life was focused on saving my world. At this last obstacle, with salvation in sight, we failed."

"It wasn't you, it was the Dilgar." Paul quickly corrected. "They did it, not you, this is all their fault!"

"Yes it is." Marso agreed. "But I still have my responsibility for running. I should have died that day, or died with my world."

"We need every ship and officer."

"So did Mitoc."

"You wouldn't have gained anything by staying and fighting." Paul replied.

"But I would have lost less." Marso smiled slightly. "Maybe kept me soul to the end."

"You can learn to…"

Paul was still talking when Captain Marso grabbed the edge of the balcony and in a graceful vault launched himself into thin air. Paul was fast, reaching out to grab him, but nowhere near fast enough. He watched open mouthed as the diminutive officer fell further away, shrinking as he plummeted from the upper floors of the hotel almost serenely to the floor. There was nothing peaceful about the landing, but it was surely a quick end.

Kalika was screaming like a Banshee and Paul had to physically move her away from the edge of the balcony and the tragic scene, her face running with tears and her expression one of complete horror and sadness.

"Why?" she shouted between wails. "Why?"

Paul knew why, he understood the choice the Mitoc officer had made, the utter desolation he surrendered to. But Paul wouldn't have done that, he would have fought and Marso's choice simply filled him with even more determination.

The Dilgar would pay for this atrocity, an act of such malicious cruelty all their other crimes paled in comparison. There would be retribution, Paul was going to make sure of it.


	76. Chapter 76

75

Geneva

Earth

"There is nothing we can do about Mister President." Secretary of State Brogan informed flatly. "But we shouldn't let this tragedy distract us from what needs to be done."

"While I might be causing hell to freeze over by saying this, Harry is right."

Director Durban of the EIA glared for a moment at his old rival. "We shouldn't be distracted by Mitoc, we are still driving back the Dilgar and exceeding our own estimates."

President Hauser accepted the analysis with a grim nod. "Hard to ignore five billion dead bodies gentlemen, this mornings papers are full to the top about this, ISN has spoken of little else."

The briefing was a regular almost daily occurrence, alongside Brogan and Durban was General Denisov. Each delivered a brief report on the status of the war, from a military, political and intelligence view point so the President could make appropriate decisions regarding resources commitments.

"It is big news." Durban agreed. "And if the polls are correct it seems the public is even more supportive of the role we've taken."

"People like a good villain." Brogan remarked. "And they like it when the home team kicks his butt."

"Or hers in this case." Denisov corrected. "We know the orders came personally from Warmaster Jha'dur. Classic Scorched Earth policy, or whatever the Dilgar phrase is."

"Probably more to it than resource denial." Durban suggested. "There have been hints that Jha'dur is not entirely in control of herself, some private messages between the Dilgar senior officials that sound very concerned."

"Any sign of this General?" Hauser checked.

"Militarily she seems as competent as ever."

"I thought you hadn't fought her since Markab?" Brogan frowned.

"Which shows she's still smart." Denisov returned. "She will bide her time, conserve her forces until she can create a favourable opportunity to hurt us. Admiral Hamato and myself are determined to not give her that chance."

"Can we expect to see some division among the Dilgar?" Hauser brought up. "If her government thinks she's mad, will the move against her?"

"They might." Durban answered. "Problem is Jha'dur is very cunning, you can bet she has contingencies in place to dispose of her enemies, in fact we believe she has already killed the ringleaders of opposition to her."

"She's got them in her pocket." Brogan considered. "Gotta respect that, to rule a bunch as evil and violent as the Dilgar single handed? She's got some skill."

"Well, I don't know if 'respect' is the word I'd use." Hauser said with discomfort.

"In reality it might help us." Durban suggested calmly. "If she has no close confidants there'll be no one dare tell her she's making a mistake."

"Classic dictator failing." Denisov agreed. "Their ego and cruelty always get them in the end."

"But can we guarantee Jha'dur will go the same way?"

"If she is acting irrational as the other Warmaster seem to think, it might be her undoing. But we won't know until she's tested." Durban warned. "We might have to do this the hard way."

"Fight them right back to Omelos?" Hauser wondered.

"That's still our overall plan sir." Denisov agreed.

"Plan for the worst, hope for the best." The President remarked with a slight smile.

"Exactly our philosophy Mister President."

Hauser took a drink from a cup of strong coffee he liked to keep handy in these briefings then set about straightening up the picture in his mind.

"So they abandoned most of the League?"

"Yes Mister President." General Denisov fielded. "With the exception of the Hyach home system they have lost every gain made in the last year and a half."

"Outstanding work General, this has to be the most rapid offensive in history."

"Certainly a very long distance, which has problems regarding our supply lines." The General agreed. "However with the Belt Alliance and our prefab stations, our fleets are still at maximum ability."

"They have the Hyach and Abbai, along with Tirrith and Roth which were fairly minor worlds, and then Balos and Alaca which were relatively important." Durban stated specifically. "Unfortunately these last two worlds are where their main production facilities are."

"So their war industry is still at full capacity?"

"More or less Mister President, yes." The EIA chief answered. "The Dilgar build their heavy warships above Omelos, where they will be very hard to raid and destroy."

"And they also serve as a boost to civilian morale." Denisov added. "All you need is a half decent telescope and you can stand in the open, look up and see hundreds of yards building or repairing battleships and cruisers."

"But the less glamorous ships are made above Balos, Destroyers, frigates, the workhorses of the fleet but none the less crucial to Dilgar victory." Durban picked up. "Alaca is the site of their main munitions manufacturing industry and we believe Tirrith is where three quarters of Dart Fighters come from."

Hauser nodded in understanding. "So if we start taking out these worlds, it will cripple the Dilgar war effort."

"Exactly Mister President." Denisov nodded. "At this time we are planning a series of heavy raids and reconnaissance in Force missions to each of these planets, with emphasis on Tirrith and Balos as they are closest to our lines."

"To disrupt their ability to replace the losses we've dealt them." Hauser considered, grasping the strategy.

"Yes sir, it will keep them off balance and bleed away a portion of their forces while we prepare for a full scale assault."

"And our allies?"

"They'll support us." Brogan said. "They signed up to fight under our command and so far they've done good. We're winning and they're happy."

"Apart from the calls for genocide." Durban raised. "A lot of blood on the floor Mister President, and I think a lot of shattered pride the League want to restore by really pounding on someone."

"We will never, ever condone genocide." Hauser said firmly. "Once we take Omelos, if we have to, it will become a protectorate of the Earth Alliance until such time as we believe the Dilgar are fit to enter galactic civilisation again."

"Which means firing on Omelos would be like hitting Altair or Proxima." Brogan guessed. "An attack on Earth territory."

"Exactly." Hauser confirmed. "I want to make sure every League Government understands that in very, very clear terms."

"I think our man Sheridan already explained our position." Durban replied. "But can't help to be crystal clear."

"Going to be a hell of a job guarding Omelos." Brogan considered. "Plus we're going to have to try change a whole culture."

"It's happened before." Hauser said simply. "Countries on Earth have been just as far gone, a generation later they've changed beyond recognition. We can do this for Omelos and give the ordinary Dilgar a second chance to be worth something."

"It's going to be hard Dieter." Brogan said.

"It's going to be policy Harry." Hauser said firmly. "We just have to get there first. What about this Dilgar raider?"

"The one that got away." Denisov joked darkly. "We know it is an elite ship, the best vessel commanded by the best Captain. He spotted our trap and broke past an ambush, very skilful and risky."

"His name is Dal'shan." Durban stated. "Eldest son of the Supreme Warmaster and something of an heir apparent to the Imperium. He's damn good, his service record looks like a propaganda broadcast until we checked up on it and found all his kills are confirmed. Taking him down will not be easy."

"We're working on a new scenario." Denisov informed. "We aim to lur ehim into position and unleash a flotilla of Artemis Frigates, they're fast and pack a nasty punch. Problem is they aren't jump capable and they are pretty old and small ships. Losses could be heavy if he decides to fight it out."

"I'll approve any plan the military deems fit." Hauser stated. "No doubt this man is helping Dilgar morale, if we kill him it would be a worthwhile propaganda victory as well as excising a nasty thorn in our side."

"It could be." Brogan agreed. "Or maybe we should capture him?"

Denisov shook his head. "Where did you go Harry when we were talking about how good this guy was? It'll be hard enough to kill him, let alone capture him."

"Yeah, I heard." Brogan returned icily. "But imagine what a massive coup it would be to take this guy prisoner? You said yourself he was the Supreme Warmaster's kid, what sort of message is that?"

"One we could never deliver." Denisov dismissed. "Too risky."

"All you need is the right bait, something too juicy for him to pass up even knowing the risks." Brogan answered. "And it's not just the man, it's the machine too."

"The Sekhmet?" Durban asked. "Ah, now I see where you're going. You want that ship."

"If it's the most advanced warship out there we need to take a look at it, intact."

"Did I recall you saying you were on the IPX board of directors?" Durban asked, already knowing the answer. "A group obsessed with acquiring technology at all costs?"

"I can give you a cost right now." Denisov growled. "The lives of several hundred of my people."

"Not if we do this right."

"And you are a master strategist now Harry?"

"Gentlemen." President Hauser calmed them. "My priority is to eliminate this ship."

"But there is a way Mister President." Brogan continued. "We just need the Bait."

"And your suggestion?"

Brogan smiled. "The EIA Enigma section."

If looks could kill Director Durban would have had another body for his tally. "You cold son of a bitch, no way are you having my people."

"Mister President," Brogan ignored the EIA director. "We recovered some vital pieces of wreckage from the cruiser the Nemesis destroyed. Those Dilgar ships are like all the best League systems all wrapped up in one package topped with a ribbon, and it's right under our noses."

"Except we can take it." Denisov stated.

"We can if we take a risk or two." Brogan replied. "Shields, advanced lasers, gravitic drive. Those ships are a gold mine."

"What was your thought Harry?" The President asked. "We can at least hear him out."

"Well as you know I don't trust the League." Brogan said. "We hauled their butts out of the fire and we ain't see any thanks for it. Sure, they say they appreciate it but they're sitting on technology which could upgrade our warships and save human lives. The fact they refuse to share means I hold them responsible for any unnecessary life lost in this war."

"They have given us rebuilding contracts and very favourable trade rights." Durban replied. "It'll take a few years but the economic boost this gives us will put Earth right at the top of the galactic stock exchange, we'll probably overtake the Centauri."

"That just isn't good enough." Brogan shook his head. "They owe us, and if they don't pay up when we ask then we better get our dues somewhere else. And look what gets delivered, a ship with all the technology we can wish for."

"You still haven't said how though." Hauser stated. "And why the EIA?"

"It's the bait they can't refuse." Brogan said. "We leak the fact our best analysts are being transferred to a new station, then set an ambush for the cruiser."

"What sort ofambush?"

"I dunno, a dreadnought in Hyperspace." Brogan shrugged. "Then we send in breaching pods and take her home."

"This will never work." Denisov huffed.

"But what if it did?" Hauser asked. "What if we could do this without risk?"

"Mister President, I strongly advise we just go for the kill." Denisov stated flatly.

"But you said we need a good bait." The President considered. "Something the Dilgar would go for even expecting a trap, this could be it."

"I admit, the Dilgar would be very tempted to capture or kill our analysts."

"Karl, what do you think?"

The EIA director considered it. "I can allow the information to leak out, but no way am I putting one of my people in harms way."

"I don't think you'll need to." Hauser said. "Just make him appear to be on the vessel."

"If those are the orders, I'll do it."

"Very well, General Denisov, prepare an ambush." Hauser ordered. "Capture if possible, but take no risks. If even one thing goes bad, kill that ship."

"Understood sir." Denisov nodded. "So which poor bastard has to act as Sekhmet bait?"

"Leave it to me." Durban replied. "I think I know just the crew."

A few hours later…

"He didn't take a lot of convincing."

Brogan lowered his fairly large frame into the deep brown leather chair, his residence glowing with warm lighting and a fake fire effect heater. Despite being high Spring it was still a little chilly this evening in Geneva and required a touch more heat.

"I expect the EIA want your head." His guest said concisely.

"Nothing new there." Brogan chuckled.

"How did he react to your suggestion of using his people?"

"Who, Karl?" Brogan asked. "He hated it, but he has to go along."

"I am very impressed." The person said. "I think it's obvious who he will use. This suits us."

"How do you mean?"

The other person shrugged. "Durban will likely send Agent Chapel, a man who does not appeal to my group. If the mission succeeds we gain a ship, if it fails we loose an obstacle. In either case we win."

"Or he might die and still take the ship."

The person smiled. "Well, that is a positive outlook."

Brogan nodded to the female, a slim slightly tanned female with neat blond hair and pale blue eyes. She took a drink Brogan had prepared, her dainty black gloved hands lifting the glass to her full lips. He was a married man and old enough to be this woman's father, but for a long moment he let his mind examine the impossibilities.

"Please Mister Secretary, you'll make me blush."

He quickly reeled his ideas in. "My apologies I forgot about…"

"Psi corps?" She smiled, the black uniform of a Psicop seeming more alluring than intimidating on her. "Being telepathic is sometimes a little embarrassing."

He turned his mind to the task in hand. "When we get the ship I'll make sure IPX takes over, we've got the best people for the job."

"Very much so." The Psicop returned. "And I'm sure the controllers of IPX will work very closely with Earth Force Black Operations."

"Most of the directors are part of Black ops anyway." Brogan shrugged. "You can rest assured our mutual friends will have first pick of any acquired information."

"Excellent." The woman smiled with rosy lips. She was a vision to behold and Brogan was having a very difficult time keeping himself restrained.

"Our view is to give pure military technology to Earth Force." He continued. "Lasers, plasma guns, that sort of thing while IPX deals with propulsion and sensor systems. That way we use our specific expertise on the relevant tech."

"Makes sense." She agreed. "And any sensitive technology, that comes to us."

"Of course." Brogan nodded enthusiastically. "Anything specific?"

"We're looking at biological weaponry, cybernetic devices, there are hints the Dilgar have some advanced organic technology. All of that goes to Black ops, and my friends in the Bureau."

"Goes without saying."

"Well I just said it, so make sure it happens."

"Yes, yes of course." Brogan smiled, willing to please this woman at any cost.

"Good." She put her class down precisely. "I think that covers it, thank you for your time Secretary, and your continued support. We don't forget our friends."

The Psicop said her farewells and left quietly, getting into a blacked out car waiting in front of Brogans house. The vehicle made its way back out to Psi corps headquarters, winding gently through the well manicured lawns and pristine buildings of Earth Dome.

"We're being followed." The woman remarked calmly.

"EIA." Her colleague stated, a young man with a thin moustache who just shrugged. "Don't worry about it Clare."

"Not as if they can stop us." She smiled, a hint of a French accent buried in her smile.

"They need us." The man said simply. "Whether they know it or even care to admit it, Earth needs us."

Clare took a look out of the rear window at the plain car trailing them. If she remembered correctly it was a double bluff, the car so obviously following them was just to make sure they went straight home, the EIA's real surveillance team was probably still watching Brogan, whom they believed was the mastermind of this little game. In truth he was just one more puppet.

"How is the San Diego branch?"

"Buried under forty tons of lead." The man chuckled. "There were a few teething troubles, and long term deployment is still a little hazardous. But we've lined the sewers with anti radiation shielding taken straight from the naval yards. It will be our main communication centre."

"Nice sea view as well." Clare grinned. "But I don't want to go."

"I wouldn't worry about that, your talents are far better suited to the more civilised parts of the world. Especially the places where ambitious men live."

"Too easy." She said with a laugh. "I don't even need to nudge most of them telepathically, just a flutter of the eyelashes tends to do it!"

"Vive la Paris." The man smiled. "Well with Brogan in our pocket the Bureau is looking for the next generation. They have someone they want you to indebt."

He handed over a photograph of an unremarkable balding man.

"A disgruntled EIA agent and friend of Brogan, he'll probably try for politics soon under Brogan's direction." The man stated. "Which means our direction."

Clare shrugged. "Job is a job. Got a name?"

"Morgan Clark."

Deep Space

The engines blinked like a crazy assortment of Christmas tree lights, flashing briefly again and again in no logical sequence, blue flame nudging the little fighter in every direction back and forth as it hurtled at ridiculous speed through the inkiness of the deep night. The cross winged grey craft looked like it was totally out of control, but in truth the pilot had never been more focus and directed as he was at that moment, he had to be as he threw the ship into more spins.

It was a wise move, and despite the dizzy making nausea of the twists and turns they served a very real purpose. A full squadron of trident shaped Thoruns were closing hard, grouping up to drop on the lone Starfury and finish the job, already they had dealt with three of his associates, now just this single lone craft remained. However for the Thorun pilots the man flying this little piece of human ingenuity was entirely prepared for the moment.

The Starfury did not wait for the Dilgar to attack, instead it swung around and blasted a long burst at a cluttered group of fighters still getting into attack formation. That single burst brought down four close packed Dart Fighters and scared off the rest. Not resting on his laurels the red marked fighter pressed the advantage, building on the confusion and panic engendered in the Dilgar Squadron to isolate three more Thoruns and slice them out of the sky.

The remaining five took evasive action, two of them very nearly colliding and slowing to preserve themselves, only to offer a perfect target to the Starfury. The human fighter rolled crazily, barrelling out of the way of a salvo of bolt fire and killing two more fighters as it tumbled past, an almost impossible shot to make. The last Thorun backflipped and fired wildly in the direction of the Starfury, finding nothing in front of its guns. A second later there was a flash of red, and the pilot saw above him the white edged red chevrons daubed on the upper wings of the Nova Fury, just before it turned down and brought its own pulse cannons to face the Dilgar pilot merely a few feet away.

"And you're dead." Battle Commander Ari'shan informed with slight frustration. "I am not impressed Skull Squadron, that was one fighter, one single Starfury and it beat your whole unit!"

"Apologies Commander." The leader of the Dilgar squadron replied. "But in fairness you are renowned as the finest pilot in the galaxy."

Ari'shan began the long process of slowing the human craft enough to allow safe docking.

"I'm not the best, and even if I was I am one man, you are twelve and if you worked as a team you could have beaten me easily!"

"Again, I take responsibility Commander."

Ari'shan sighed. Earth Force was going to have these people for breakfast. "Your marksman ship skills are good, and your control of your fighters in general is acceptable, but you need to be aware of where all your squad mates are at all times, you bunched up too much, hell you almost bounced off each other!"

He turned the fighter to coast backwards, taking a look at the regrouping Thoruns forming behind him.

"If you bunch up it lets an enemy score multiple kills, and human anti fighter weaponry is deadly accurate. Keep moving, always, always fly evasive even if you think you are safe. Don't take anything for granted and remember staying alive is your first priority."

"Sir, we've been told our lives are not important compared to the needs of the Imperium."

"You can't kill anyone if you are dead." Ari stated simply. "Once you find a target and gain an advantage, the you take your risks, but until that brief moment I want you all to preserve yourselves and your craft. You represent a major investment of resources, don't discard that investment on some notion of glory."

"Yes sir." The Squadron leader replied respectfully.

"Fine, lets get docked, cleaned up and try again later today." Ari'shan ordered. "We'll try it again, and again, and again until you all don't die."

He brought the Starfury back to face its heading, still impressed by its responsiveness and more than a little chilled. The fighter had been acquired by a Dilgar Raider from a human convoy and at once brought back for evaluation. Ari'shan had been eager to put the craft through its paces after facing them in action and had not been disappointed. Compared to a Thorun the Starfury was slow and terribly inefficient, a Dart Fighter could cruise on one tank of fuel for almost a day while the human craft went through it's stores in six hours.

Of course the reason it tended to be so fuel hungry was the power and performance of its engines. Hogs as they were the Starfury could out turn anything in space and had a fire control computer that could put shots on target with just the briefest window of opportunity. It allowed a Fury to be constantly moving and turning yet still engage with reasonable accuracy, a facet of the design that had claimed many Dilgar pilots in battles so far.

Ari had tested the fighter extensively, exposing its weaknesses and flaws. He had developed some basic tactics involving high speed strafes, preferably using warships to mask a Thoruns approach until the last moment, that took advantage of the human crafts lack of acceleration compared to the Dilgar fighters, but overall he planned a more radical solution.

The orbital station grew in front of him, the cargo bay the Starfury lived in opening up before him. Landing the fighter was a tough task even for a pilot as skilled as Ari, without the computer guidance systems of a human station he had to back into the bay and slide onto the rack that held the craft manually. It was a particularly awdward feat to achieve, but like most things Ari'shan delighted in the effort and test of skill.

He switched to aft cameras to give him a view to the rear of the craft, watching on the main display screen as he carefully lined up with the landing stripes. He noted the crosshairs on the display for the rear firing pulse cannons embedded into the back of the craft that never seemed to be used, and slid onto the rails with barely a bump.

He began the power down sequence as the bay doors closed, understanding the markings on each control thanks to Jha'durs texts on human language, indeed Ari could now speak passable English which helped when watching Human News Broadcasts and listening to the warnings broadcast by the flight computer in the Fury. Ari'shan found himself fascinated by the human take on the news, there was a lot more information tied into it compared to the pure propaganda most Dilgar saw. Ari himself had the rank and connections to see the true story of the war of course, something neither sides news channels really reflected, but it was still a truly fascinating insight into his enemy's mind set.

The lights turned from amber to a normal white glare indicating the bay was pressurized and Ari opened up the canopy, stepping out sideways and waiting for a ladder. The ground crew were swift to bring one to his need and he clambered down from the heavyweight fighter craft, feeling the heat still radiating from the engines as he passed.

"Another successful trip sir?" The Crew Chief greeted.

"Well, for me anyway." Ari shrugged. "How is she performing?"

"Still in one piece, but the fuel pumps and cannon feeds are showing wear." The Chief stated. "She could really do with a major tear down and rebuild of the engines and power feeds."

"I see." Ari nodded. "I guess the materials are wearing out?"

"Yeah, you have been putting this little beast through hell." The Chief grinned. "A Thorun would last longer, but I'm still impressed with the punishment these things can take."

"Gives us a limit on how long the humans can keep these birds in the air before the wear out and break up." Ari'shan stated, absorbing the information. "Good thing to know, we can keep our fighters in the field longer."

"Only if they don't get blown out of the sky." The Chief laughed. "We'll fuel her up again, run a stress scan on the wings and load bearing members and let you know."

"Thanks Chief, I'll be in my quarters."

Ari'shan headed away, giving the slightly smoking and increasingly grimy fighter a parting glance. He had three more Furies after this one so Ari had decided to push this first craft until it fell apart, tested to destruction. Aterwards he would take it outside and see where the best location to shoot it was for maximum damage. He was a little sad at the idea, he had formed a bit of a connection with this enemy fighter and come to appreciate it. Maybe he would have the ground crews fix it up and destroy another one instead.

Originally the fighter had been plain drab grey with no more than a simple serial number. Ari'shan had decorated the craft to match the ace human pilot who had almost killed him. The upper wings had the distinctive red markings and the black and white campaign stripes signifying the pilot was a veteran of the Markab battles. According to reports the fighter had shown up a few other times in action and Ari had reviewed data from those engagements, watching the pilot and then attempting to copy the various twists and turns he employed in this captured Starfury. He had managed to copy most of them, but slightly behind the speed and precision levels the human had shown.

Ari'san knew he had further to go, but one day he would face that pilot in single combat again. It was he supposed possible the man might be killed before then, but he severely doubted it. Fate was setting the stage for an epic engagement, a true competition of skill and determination. With the data Ari had recovered from the fighter he now knew the technical limits of his enemy and could account for them. By eliminating the technical differences it would be a pure contest of skill, and whether he lived or died it would be the defining moment of his life.

He made his way to his quarters and had barely sat down before his door chimed.

"Yeah, come in." He said reluctantly, before his laziness vanished and he forced himself to snap to his feet and offer a salute.

"Stand down Commander." Jha'dur returned the gesture. "Sit down, this is business but no need to treat it like a debriefing."

The pilot did as he was told and Jha'dur found a chair of her own in the simple and small quarters.

"You know you could move to a larger room than this." She suggested. "A decorated room, you do have connections Would you like me to find you something more worthy?"

"No thank you Warmaster." Ari'shan replied. "These are basic quarters for officers of my station, and I will simply accept the privileges of my rank. Or lack thereof."

The Warmaster chuckled slightly. "That's my Ari, always taking the hard road."

"It is my calling Ma'am." He answered. "Besides, I never much enjoyed comfort. Takes away the edge."

"I can see that." Jha'dur accepted. "But I also think you should take advantage of what you have earned. Anyway, that isn't why I am here."

"Warmaster." Ari'shan nodded at her chest. "You seem to have spilled something on your uniform."

She looked down. "Hmm, so I have. Mind if I use the sink?"

"Of course not." He said warily, the speckles of red on the blue jacket not really needing much of an explanation.

She moistened a towel and began to remove the stains.

"No matter how thoroughly I dress in surgical gowns something always gets through, remarkable thing the cardio vascular system, you should see how far blood can by pumped from an open artery."

"Yes Warmaster." Ari said, with no intention of ever doing so.

"You are always welcome to join me." She offered. "Len'char has harmed your family as much as mine."

"I will respectfully pass Warmaster, I am quite busy in my duties."

She smiled. "Nicely delivered excuse."

Jha'dur returned to her chair more presentable than before. She straightened her jacket and left the redded towel in the sink.

"Anyway, I wanted to see if you had finished your report."

"Mostly." He opened a drawer and handed over a data crystal. "There will be some more to add after today's exercise, but I can send that on later."

"Very good." She took the offered data device. "What is your summary? What do you need to beat Earth fighters?"

"That's easy." Ari replied. "A Squadron of Starfuries."

Jha'dur raised an eyebrow. "Very dry Ari, I know you picked that up from the documentaries I showed you."

"Well that's true." He relaxed and smiled a little. "And while I like calling our craft Dart Fighters, nothing compares to the Human names. Starfury, Thunderbolt, Archangel, Raptor, Spitfire, the list goes on."

"So if I can't give you hundreds of human fighters?"

"Strictly speaking Warmaster, we don't need them." Ari answered. "We can copy the human design and incorporate our existing technology, make something that outperforms both a Starfury and a Thorun. Unfortunately it will take a year at least to produce a design."

"Assume we don't have a year." Jha'dur said.

"The stop gap solution is easy, we adjust the engines on our own craft to increase power to the attitude thrusters."

Jha'dur nodded. "Make them turn faster."

"It is a short term solution." He said. "And it'll put a lot of stress on the engine mounts and fuselage, more than they were really designed for. We'll have to strengthen them, and that weight will slow our fighter down."

"Will we still have an advantage over Earth?"

"Yes Warmaster, less than now but I believe the extra agility is worth the cost in acceleration."

"I agree." The Warmaster agreed. "My people in research have been working on a similar concept, we do have a new fighter in development, a cross between a Thorun and a Starfury. Four wings, four engines, but aerodynamic and atmosphere capable. It promises to be an exceptional craft."

"But not soon enough to enter service." Ari presumed.

"No, so we will have to modify our existing Thoruns."

"The engine can be modified in the field be the ground crews, but reinforcing the hull will be more difficult."

"If necessary we will send them into action with just the engine alterations." Jha'dur said. "I'll reserve the full refits for the veteran units on a priority basis."

"Those half modified fighters will be harder to control, and they might just break up if pushed." Ari cautioned.

"They'll be flown by green officers." Jha'dur stated. "Their pilots will probably be killed by Earth in their first sortie anyway."

It was a harsh assessment, but probably accurate. In the end Jha'dur was trying to preserve resources, the same lesson Ari had given earlier but with different outcomes.

"Even so, the bulk of our fighters will probably be unmodified." Jha'dur considered. "Though new production will be shifted to match the field refits. We also just finished trailing a Thorun Model III, twin seat pure multirole fighter."

"I read about those." Ari nodded. "Toughened airframe and new engines."

"We can improve their agility at no cost in performance." Jha'dur smiled. "Until our new design come sonline we'll be using these Thorun MkIII fighters as our elites. But we will still have many unmodified MkII's going into battle, can I assume you have developed some tactics to help their survivability?"

"All in there Warmaster." He nodded. "I kept it simple but effective, easy enough to train the newest pilots in."

Jha'dur pocketed the report. "So, we do have a couple of other fighters in the works, using the MkIII technology on a single seat airframe. Prototypes right now, very expensive and too demanding for the average pilot. I have twenty of them, enough to equip a squadron with some spares. They are yours if you want them, unless you want to take that Starfury into action?"

Ari grinned. "I had thought about it, I could do a lot of damage with that fighter. Even with the field changes a Starfury will still outmanoeuvre anything we've got, including these new MkIII's if the stats I've read are correct. We can get closer, but we can't beat them in a close dog fight."

"Unless you fly one of their craft." She said. "I know you are still preparing to fight this human ace, if you are flying the same craft it becomes an equal playing field."

"It looks that way." Ari considered. "But it isn't, when we meet again it will be a continuation of our last fight and I cannot face him in a Starfury. I must fight in a Dilgar fighter."

"Why? For your honour?"

"In part." Ari agreed. "But also because he will be much more familiar with a Starfury ten I ever could be, we may have the same craft but he would know it better. No, I have to use the fighter I was meant to fly."

"Very well, shall I send these new prototypes to your command?"

"I would appreciate that Warmaster." Ari nodded. "They should be a good balance, slightly less agility, slightly more speed."

"Along with heavy guns and much better armour." Jha'dur added. "You can probably take a few hits flying one of these."

"It might happen." Ari admitted. "I'd like to go back to the front lines. I've tested these human fighters, developed new tactics for the fighter corps, it's time for me to go back to leading a combat squadron."

"Is that your wish?"

"More than anything."

Jha'dur nodded in considered agreement. "So be it. Life is short Ari, better to fulfil your desire while you can, even if it kills you."

"We all must die one day." Ari'san replied.

"So the theory goes." Jha'dur chuckled lightly. "But I'll see about that. Good seeing you again Ari."

"Likewise Jha'dur." He nodded. "Will we be back in action soon?"

"In time." She replied, standing up. "Everything is moving, when we move it will be fast and with all our strength. No more half measures Ari, the next few months will decide if we stand or fall."

The Warmaster left the room with a sense of contentment, it was good to see Ari'shan so focused and clear. While she did not really support the idea of duels to the death for honour she appreciated it did serve the practical purpose of removing a very dangerous human pilot. That was enough to allow her to tolerate it. Ari would no doubt engage regular pilots as well during his missions and if he had formed a new elite squadron so much the better. Still, she had bigger concerns than a single squadron of Thoruns, no matter how skilled the pilots.

Waiting at the door of her temporary quarters on the station was Captain Sa'goth, the intelligence officer standing stiffly to attention as she arrived at the armoured portal.

"Good afternoon Captain, something I can help with?"

"Warmaster, we've intercepted further human communications, I thought it best to share them with you."

She input her code into the door and slid it open. "Been there long?"

"About an hour." He replied simply.

"Come in, find a chair." She pointed. "Care for a drink Captain?"

"Only if you approve."

Jha'dur laughed. "Of course Captain, I have some quality bottles around somewhere. Benefit of rank."

She poured a couple of glasses and settled down informally with the officer.

"So then Captain, what do you have?"

"Earlier today we decoded another human Gold Channel transmission."

"In much the same way our last decode was a bluff to draw us into a trap at Mitoc?"

"Yes Warmaster, the set up in the deciphering was almost identical. I would say deliberately flawed."

Jha'dur smiled. "More disinformation from Earth Force, what do they want us to know this time?"

"According to this they are moving a group of code breakers and analysts from Brakir to Comac." Sa'goth reported. "They go by the name Enigma Section and are according to this experts in their field."

"That's very good." Jha'dur smiled widely. "They must recognize we've begun to understand the value of information warfare. Now they offer us their experts on a silver serving dish. How thoughtful."

"They'll be travelling unescorted, hoping a low profile will allow them to escape our attention and see them safely to their destination."

"Unescorted?" Jha'dur chuckled. "That's a little too obvious, I would have assigned at least a pair of frigates to make it more believable."

"According to this they will depart in a week, and will take the regular trade route, not simply have warships open jump points for them."

"Meaning they have to fly from Brakir itself to the jump gate a couple of AU's away, and repeat the process again at Comac. What a tempting target, isolated and strung out alone like that."

"The message is authentic Warmaster, but I have sever doubts about its accuracy."

"It's a trap, and a surprisingly clumsy one." Jha'dur dismissed and took a sip from her glass. "I'm actually quite disappointed."

"They will be travelling by commercial freighter." Sa'goth continued. "We retrieved an image of it, fairly basic design."

Jha'dur glanced casually at the photo and immediately stiffened, the oblong and harsh lines of the vessel on the image catching and holding her attention.

"I know this ship, I've seen it many times before."

"Really Ma'am?"

"Indeed, there is nothing ordinary about this little craft." She read the details. "So you're called the 'Space Race' under Paul Calendar. That's worth checking up on."

"We have access to the civilian shipping register, should be easy enough."

"See to it Captain." Jha'dur ordered. "This makes things a little different, this isn't a simple commercial freighter but an upgraded military vessel. Interesting."

"So they tried to hide its true identity?" Sa'goth contemplated. "Part of the trap to snare us?"

"Or part of the bait." Jha'dur wondered. "Hoping we recognize this vessel and are even more tempted to take it."

"A trap within a trap perhaps?"

"Yes, this has the potential to get very complicated. We could end up second guessing everything." Jha'dur reasoned coldly. "Still, it would be nice to meet this man Calendar, valuable cargo or not."

"We don't know what else Earth is deploying, but the Vanquisher is our closest ship." Sa'goth named the lone Sekhmet cruiser under Battlemaster Dal'shan.

"A rich prize, worth risking this valuable little freighter for." She considered. "Maybe there is a way to remove this irritation, and avoid the trap at the same time."

"It would be a great risk Warmaster."

She nodded. "You have your orders Captain, investigate this ship and see if the information is genuine."

"And the rest of the message?"

"Leave it to me. Dismiss Captain, and good work."

The officer crisply saluted and left the room, sealing the door shut behind him. Jha'dur emptied her glass, and in the time it took to put the empty vessel down she felt a cold and uncomfortable sensation that she was being watched.

"Salasine." She named the Drakh without turning around. "Been there long?"

"Long enough." The alien replied in a throaty hiss, its voice well matched to its face.

"You said you had people watching the humans." Jha'dur stated flatly. "That you could deliver accurate information to me."

"Yes, I did."

Jha'dur rolled her eyes slightly. "Well? Time to deliver."

The Drakh moved around the room, dark robes and perpetually amused expression fixed to its visage. It nodded slowly and addressed the Warmaster.

"The information is correct, as is your analysis. It is a trap, but the bait they are laying is real."

"And this Enigma Section?" She asked.

"Accurate, they are the best human code breakers. We know little about them, they have ways of detecting my people so we cannot get too close. But they are a major asset to the humans, and a bane for you."

"Killing them would be an advantage." She considered. "Taking them alive…"

"Most will not proceed, but the one who is their leader, who is most gifted, he will be there."

Jha'dur smiled. "Quite a prize indeed."

"They left the station this morning on that freighter." Salasine pointed to the picture of the Space Race. "That ship is part of the Intelligence Community, it is more than it seems."

"We figured that out ourselves." Jha'dur said critically. "And the trap?"

"A Dreadnought in Hyperspace and a Battlecruiser in the Nebula shadowing the freighter."

"The Comc nebula?" Jha'dur asked. "A likely ambush site for our ship too."

"There is another Battlecruiser waiting in the Brakiri comet belt, in case you try to strike there."

"Nicely set up." Jha'dur considered. "Escort ships?"

"Two Frigates and two Corvettes divided between both systems."

"Less then I had expected." Jha'dur frowned. "Maybe they aren't going to try and destroy the Vanquisher, maybe they want to take it in one piece. Otherwise they should have deployed at least three Dreadnoughts. Yes, this has potential."

"If they want to take it in one piece they will hesitate to destroy it.."

"Which gives Dal'shan an opportunity to deal with the freighter before the humans swing into action. They might just have become too clever for their own good."

"We would also be interested in meeting these humans." Salasine said. "Alongside your more direct method for greeting prisoners."

"I think I would like that. Very well, I'll approve the mission but leave the final choice in Dal'shans hands."

"Good." The Drakh supported.

"Salasine." She looked to him with a smile. "This information had better be accurate."

"It is."

"I don't care who your friends are, if you have lied to me nothing will save you. That is a promise."

Comac System

Brakiri Space

One Week later

Unlike most f the systems in the galaxy the backdrop to the outer reaches of Comac was not black, but green. Everything for lightyears around was bathed in the yellow and green hazy light filtering through the dust and gas that comprised the unique and distinctive feature. While the nebula stretched across much of Brakiri space at Comac the edges of it skirted the outer worlds and created a foggy or misty cloud stretching as far as the eye could see, which in space was a very, very long way.

Surveys of the gas cloud had shown it to be moderately profitable in terms of its composition and there had been a few mining operations set up to extract resources from its scattered body, but after a while it had been discovered the Nebula was in fact a tourist goldmine. People had come from across the League to see the nebula where it touched the outer planets, something which was not known elsewhere in the League, and they had brought a lot of money with them.

Happily seizing on this concept the Brakiri invested heavily in the nebula assigning liners to take people on tours within the ghostly reaches of the green mist and built a few space stations on the periphery to act as hotels. They even went as far as to move the jump gate further out to accommodate the influx of tourists.

On a more fundamental level the nebula had long been part of Brakiri life, visible from the homeworld as a dash of colour in the night sky it had many references in Brakiri art and culture. The two predominant colours of the nebula had become deeply ingrained in Brakiri society, captured in everything from dining services to flags to the heraldry of early military forces. In much the same way as the grey and blue of historic Earth Navies had been inherited by the current space fleet, so the traditional Brakiri colours of green and yellow and been taken on by the various Brakiri fleet corporations. A continuance of the role the Comac nebula had played in Brakiri culture.

The War had naturally changed that, with the colony devastated and the space hotels destroyed lest they become bases for the Brakiri resistance. Once more this frontier of League space had become wild and unknown, there were no people living out here, just a memory and a desire to one day return and reclaim Brakiri mastery of this iconic corner of the galaxy.

"I spy with my little eye…" Toby began, reclining in the comfortable but still practical chair. "Something beginning with 'G'"

"Green." Both Paul and Jors said in unified monotone.

"Okay, well then, I spy with my little eye something…"

Jors raised his hand. "If you are thinking 'Yellow' I swear I'm going to throw you through that window."

"Actually I was going to say.. err… green." Toby back pedalled furiously and without particular success. "Okay, how about twenty questions?"

"Because it takes us usually two questions to guess who you are." Paul replied hiding a smile. "You're either Khan Fu or Alison High-heels."

"Khan Fu is a god among men." Toby defended. "And Alison is the embodiment of true rock."

"Khan couldn't act to save his life." Jors replied with a grin. "He's more wooden than Ikea."

"And Alison stopped being Rock and Roll when she did that Opera album." Paul said. "Cashing in on the Centaur market."

"First human to break the Centauri music scene." Toby shot back. "And hot."

"Well no argument there." Paul nodded.

"Not that you should have an opinion on that." Jors grinned. "Looking at other women and all."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on Paul, we know you vanished away with Jenny, and you've been smiling non stop for a month which is bordering on creepy." The pilot jibed. "She can keep a secret, but you are just rubbish."

The Captain glared at Jors, then just broke up into a laugh. "Yeah, well at least I don't have to keep it secret."

"Well good going chief." Jors slapped his shoulder. "We all knew it was going to happen eventually. Good match up."

"Course I let you do that." Toby pointed out. "If I'd have wanted to I could have snatched her away."

"Of course you could Toby." Paul humoured. "I will never stop thanking my lucky stars."

"Good." Toby nodded in mock seriousness. "See that you don't."

They sat for a few moments watching the clouds very slowly pass by as the Space Race made its way leisurely from the distant gate towards the colony and the station Earth was constructing, code named Atlantis and following the mythical theme Earth was using for its League bases. Besides Atlantis Earth also had Camelot, Shangri-la and Eldorado, all prefab Dionysus class stations and all brimming with the materials of war.

"So what do we think?" Toby piped up. "Are they out there or not?"

"Almost certainly." Paul said. "I don't like gambling with money, but I'd put hard cash on it this time."

"Question is whether they make a move or not." Jors considered.

"How's our cargo?" Paul checked.

"Bored." Toby shrugged. "We're taking the long route, but they know what's going on and they're prepared for trouble back there."

"Pretty tense." Paul observed. "I suppose they could jump us at any time. We better get on with it, the distress signal should be going out soon. If they are out there, this will be their opportunity."

Toby shuddered a little. "Damn I hope this plan works."

"If it doesn't I'll have to pull another trick out of my hat." Paul grinned. "Keep your eyes open, time to earn our stupendously enormous fee."

Dilgar Battle Cruiser 'Vanquisher'

Sekhmet class

Within the Comac nebula

"The target is confirmed." Commander Ese'lan reported curtly, her sharp voice and thin frame drawing Dal'shans attention.

"Does it match the data provided by the Intelligence Division?"

"Perfectly Battlemaster, it is the same ship."

"Last piece on the game board." He noted with a wry expression. "Now we'll let the humans make their opening moves. This will be interesting to watch."

The bridge of a major Dilgar warship tended to be a busy place filled with active crew members, dozens of screens and a circle of control consoles housing two dozen permanent deck officers. On the Vanquisher everything was run by just four people, plus the Captain and First Officer.

The degree of automation was remarkable, it allowed the ship to run with a quarter of its expected crew level and still out perform its sisters on the battlefield. The crisp and clean bridge was abnormally quiet, an eerie departure from the traditional command room Dal'shan was used to and it required a bit of adjustment. The extremely efficient main computer handled most of the details from power consumption to damage control leaving the command staff with just one job, the actual destruction of an enemy force. In a dire emergency the computer could even run the ship by itself for a time, attacking enemy vessels before escaping for home and safety.

One of the things the Dilgar hadn't managed was the direct neural interface the ship had been planned with, similar to the Hyach system which would link the crew directly to the ship systems. It vastly improved situational awareness and reaction times and had been responsible for the fear the Dilgar had felt when considering the prospect of taking on the Hyach in open battle. Jha'dur's tactics spared them that blood bath, but the Dilgar still desperately wanted that Hyach control system in the future.

"The freighter is following the tourist route, skimming the nebula." Ese'lan informed. "Probably hoping the proximity will mask its sensor returns."

"Maybe." Dal'shan considered. "What about the ambush?"

"Our sensor drone confirms the Dreadnought waiting in hyperspace, it is called Theodore Roosevelt."

"A figure from human history no doubt. What about the others?"

"No contact, they are probably deeper in hyperspace or waiting in the nebula."

"The nebula." Dal'shan guessed. "More logical."

The warships computer suddenly flickered up a message for the First Officer.

"Communication intercept, it's on an open civilian frequency."

"Patch it through." Dal'shan ordered.

He listened to the message, translating it in his mind and digesting the information.

"A ship is in trouble, losing power in hyperspace." He informed. "A ship carrying a whole division of human soldiers. How very unlucky."

"The Dreadnought is replying." Ese'lan said. "Sir, she's powering engines!"

"Earth Force won't throw away ten thousand lives just to ambush us." The Battlemaster stated. "Still, the timing is strangely convenient, and it's a good way to draw us out."

"They still probably have a heavy cruiser waiting for us sir." His First Officer warned.

"Probably." Dal'shan watched as the Dreadnought left the beacon and made for the distress signal, real or fake it was definitely leaving. "If this is a bluff the humans are making a miscalculation. Deploy escorts, lets see what happens next."

Toby's drumming of the sensor screen halted as soon as the two contacts materialised from the reflective morass of the nebula.

"Contact!" He called. "Two targets moving up from the nebula, zero transponder!"

"There we go." Jors nodded. "They bought it."

"Maybe not." Paul took his place at the weapons station. "Get a clearer scan Toby."

The second officer ran the details through the more advanced military grade systems on the freighter. "You're right, they are destroyers, Ochlavita class."

"Not a Sekhmet." Jors grunted. "But we know she was flying with two destroyers."

"And they don't have jump drives, they must have come here with the cruiser." Paul guessed. "Markings look similar, I'd say they were the same."

"Do we give the word?" Toby asked.

"Not yet." Paul replied. "Not until we see the Sekhmet."

"I have a squadron of fighters inbound, Thoruns." He warned. "One enemy destroyer is accelerating, closing on our position."

"The other?"

"Holding back."

"Alright then." Paul set the plan in action. "Jors, flank it, full power."

"Got it." The Swede confirmed, pushing up the throttles.

"Toby, tell our passengers to get ready for the fun."

"Will do."

"He's out there." Paul spoke confidently. And if he thinks a pair of destroyers will be enough to take us, he really doesn't know who he is screwing with."

The Dart Fighters closed fast, fanning out to present a difficult target for the Race. They knew about this ship and its impressive point defences, and they also knew how best to confound the interceptor targeting.

"Coming into range." Tob said.

"Let's allow them to get a little closer." Paul decided. "Reel them in."

"Enemy locking on."

"Little bit more." His finger hovered over the fire controls. "Come on kitty."

The trident shaped fighters lined up, idling their engines and coasting cautiously into position.

"Energy spike, they're armed and firing!"

"Not today." Paul said coldly, then released the interceptors.

The eight guns snapped into position and launched chains of rapid fire pulses, the blue and white bolts cutting through the peace and smashing the nearest quartet of Thoruns. The remainder reacted fast, blasting out of the way and picking up random evasive patterns to confound the guns. Two more died before they made it clear.

"Blow the pods!" Paul ordered. "Hard about and watch that destroyer!"

The four cargo pods suddenly split open in a rush of frozen gas as the sides opened like petals. Their interior came to life with a blue glow as the Race revealed a further surprise, instead of being empty or hauling mundane cargo the little freighter had a different package.

Four Starfuries thundered into life, blazing away from the pods and rolling around to fix on the retreating and considerably surprised Thoruns. Each fighter clasped a quartet of heavy missiles beneath its wings and was decorated in bright wing art. Director Durban had not been thrilled about risking the Space Race, a very valuable asset of the EIA, and the only reason he went along with it was because the Navy promised to support the ship with their best vessels and fighters. They hadn't lied.

"Ghost riders in the sky." Bill Hague announced enthusiastically. "Hostiles on the scope, weapons hot."

"Line them up and engage." Commander Sinclair replied clinically. "Make it fast people."

The Starfuries made a final adjustment before engaging, hailing blue plasma at the twisting Dart fighters. The Dilgar made an attempt to engage, a stream of bolter rounds crossing April Green's path harmlessly before she returned the compliment and knocked another enemy out of the sky.

The final Thorun twisted away at flank speed, barely evading Hague's attack and in an impressive display of pilot endurance pulled the sort of high G turn that breaks ribs to clear April's gun sights. Unluckily for the Dilgar his wild course brought him right up under the bow of the Space Race, and his escape was ended by a brief flash of interceptor fire.

"Fighters clear." Sinclair confirmed. "Captain Calendar, any damage?"

"All good Commander." Paul replied. "And nice flying."

"It's an art." Sinclair laughed in return.

"Don't suppose Earth has any of those new Furies for sale does it?" Paul wondered. "Looks like fun to pilot."

"Only if you join the ranks." Sinclair answered. "From the stories your crew told us I think you'd make a good pilot, always looking for more Ghost Riders."

"I appreciate the offer, but I like living my own way." Paul said with a smile. "Say, we've got a warship inbound."

"I have it." Sinclair concurred. "We'll go give him a headache, just watch for the big bastard that's supposed to be lurking out there."

"Got it Commander, we've got your back."

"Ghosts, line up for a ship strike." Sinclair ordered. "Pull the safeties and heat up the missiles."

The four fighters rapidly rounded their courses and pointed themselves at the incoming destroyer.

"Wait," Toby paused. "They're taking a destroyer on, with just four fighters? That's crazy!"

"We're all crazy." Paul stated. "Bring us in closer to the destroyer, lets see if we can't draw a little heat from the fly boys."

Vanquisher

"That Commander, is impressive."

Dal'shan watched the video feed coming in from the destroyer, its guns tracing the green and yellow sky in their attempt to hit the human fighters, the Starfuries so close to the hull the weapons were having trouble depressing low enough to even begin trying to target them. Bright flashes follwed the craft as they poured plasma into the hull, and sometimes a large blossom of fire marked a missile hit.

"The Tar'tef is requesting immediate support." Ese'lan reported.

"I bet it is." Dal'shan smiled, watching the little freighter running across the bow of the destroyer hitting it with small discharges of weapons fire, then intercepting anything the warship shot back. "He let the enemy get the initiative, bad move."

"Shall I deploy more fighters?"

"The Freighter will knock them down." The Battlemaster said. "And if we deploy the other destroyer the human fighters will attack it, two of those Starfuries have nukes, they haven't used them yet because they want to draw in the second escort. Very good."

He watched the uneven contest, a mere four fighters and a tiny freighter making a fool out the Dilgar destroyer.

"Well played to them, they are dominating Commander Gee'sep. We had better do something to save him from the embarrassment."

"Shall I order…"

"We will go ourselves." Dal'shan cut off the First Officer. "It will be the only way to end this, those fighters can't hurt us. Once we move they will call in the ambush, bring shields to full power and stand by on all batteries."

"All systems answering."

He shook his head with a smile. "We'll grab them with a tractor beam and jump immediately, no point turning this into a pitched battle. Get us moving Commander, put the penultimate piece of this game on the board."

Paul was frantically working the interceptors, shooting down the anti ship rounds while Sinclair's squadron picked off the gun turrets one by one. Already the fire was slackening as the destroyer lost weapon mount after weapon mount.

"Where's the other one?" Paul called.

"Just sitting there!" Toby shouted back. "That second destroyer hasn't moved yet!"

The Race rolled as Jors tried to turn the ship like a fighter, metal squealed and banged in protest but the ship held together.

"If we can cripple this moron we'll go for the other one!" He decided. "Any fighters?"

"Also hanging back! No more contacts!"

Paul shot a few holes in the side of the destroyer as the Race passed close by before going defensive again.

"Come on! I know you're out there!" He yelled at the screen. "Come out and fight!"

It seemed his wish was about to be answered.

"Captain, got something!" Toby shouted. "Something big, I think it's our guy!"

The nebula stirred, a swirl of gas and particles forming like a wake in the surface of a pond. From deep within the cloud a movement disturbed the natural lay of the dust, altering the light and creating a dim dark shadow of a predator which grew clearer the closer to the edge it came.

The Vanquisher broke through the yellow mist with all the poise and majesty of a king, a lord among warmachines, which is exactly what she was. Her sharp and curved slid into open space brightly declaring its presence and heritage, black insignia detailing the dull yellow hull. She shed the final remnants of the cloud, long streams of dust forming a contrail behind the alien cruiser before it activated its shielding and rose up to meet its prey.

"Crap is that thing ugly." Toby grimaced.

"That's intimidating." Jors spoke. "I feel quite menaced."

"Nasty." Paul didn't join in the usual humour. "Message away."

"I hope the navy knows what its doing." Jors said hollowly. "Because if they balls this up that ship will snap them in two."

"They've got it covered." Paul said. "But we'll stick around to give them a hand, just in case."

EAS Shannon

Temeraire Task Force

Comac Nebula.

He counted off his heartbeats like a clock, a deep rhythm thumping in his ears as he focused on what was about to happen, the long anticipation of the usually short and brutal minutes that were awaiting them.

"Sir, we fixed the secondary targeting array."

Lieutenant Commander Edward MacDougan nodded and forced through a smile. "Way to go Meg, you never know if we're gonna need that later on."

His XO, Lieutenant Megan Small returned the smile in kind. "Thank you sir, all other systems are operational."

"Better get yourself strapped in Meg, should be any time now."

The Shannon was an Olympus class Corvette and as such had a very simple and cramped bridge, especially give its relatively large command staff. The zero gravity on the ship allowed walls and the roof to be used for extra consoles which just made things even more busy looking. It did however mean the ship was able to process as much battle data as a much bigger cruiser and could react swiftly to a changing tactical situation.

The Olympus class was too small, too uncomfortable, too noisy and too short legged for the liking of its crew, however it also happened to be very well protected and packed a variety of weapons letting it take on just about any opponent and punch hard despite its size. While these ships were very unpopular assignments in peace time, during the war they had proven to be very much in demand.

Service on one of these ships was seen as a fast track to promotion, the Olympus class were the workhorses of the navy operating on patrol, convoy duty, fleet escort and commerce raiding. While the Dreadnoughts had only seen action a couple of times the Corvettes were in battle almost daily, a great opportunity to hone combat skills and prove yourself worthy of higher station.

The Shannon under MacDougan had proven itself one of the more effective ships of its type with an excellent record and elite crew, so when Earth Force needed an escort ship to take part in this mission it picked the best it had, and MacDougan answered without hesitation.

"Bit like Pea Soup isn't it?" A women asked conversationally.

"Yeah, but if we're sat in hundreds of cubic lightyears of methane I don't think I'll be wanting to take a closer look."

Jenny Sakai chuckled. "No kidding Mackie."

"You should see the mess hall after we got given a ration of beans." MacDougan grinned back. "Probably looks a lot like this place."

Jenny kept smiling. "Ready for this?"

"As much as you can be." Mackie shrugged. "Your buddy doesn't look too hot."

He nodded to Francis O'Leary, looking almost as green as the nebula.

"He doesn't travel well." Jenny his her amusement at her friends continued inability to handle long space missions. "But we had to bring him along, keep him off the radar so this mission would be believable."

Beside him the strongly built figure of his body guard Sergeant Steve 'Jaws' Jackson occupied himself with a book.

"Jaws wanted to join the assault teams." Jenny nodded to the soldier. "But command wouldn't let him, they still don't think he's fit for front line duty."

"I bet he'd show those Marines a thing or two." Mackie agreed. "There are two whole companies on the Temeraire."

"Yeah, Manny knows his stuff." Jenny referred to the Captain of the Temeraire, the marvellously named Manly Power.

"Surprised you didn't bunk up over there." MacDougan raised. "You two are old friends right?"

"We go back, he bailed me out of a sticky situation once." Jenny agreed. "But I suppose its just practicality. If we go into action most of the fire is going to come down on that ship, it'll be a little safer over here. Well, safe as you can be."

"Well it's been fun having you aboard." Mackie complimented. "All of you, even if you can't talk about half the stuff you do."

"It's a burden " She agreed. "I mean the sheer coolness of some…"

"Sir, signal coming through, top priority!" Meg suddenly shouted. "It's the go signal!"

"No more waiting then." Mackie resolved. "Wanna get strapped in there Jenny?"

"Good to go Mackie, lets go take some pressure off our people up there." She said pointedly, very aware of the source the message came from.

"Set ship to Action Stations." MacDougan ordered. "Power up the engines and warm up the guns, keep your focus on the task in hand and we'll do just great."

April was close enough to see the welds and seams on the hull of the Dilgar ship, which also meant she was close enough to target those specific weak points and open rents in the enemy ship.

"That enemy cruiser is getting closer." She warned.

"The signal is away." Sinclair replied. "Just stay clear of it until the cavalry arrives."

She skimmed the hull to the front of the ship, taking out one of the thrusters as she passed. Her computer picked up a signal, which a moment later turned into a solid data link with the incoming fleet.

"That's it! Contact!" She said triumphantly. "Patching through data to the fleet!"

"Standby for fresh orders." Sinclair alerted the other pilots. "Things are about to jump up a gear."

The fleet was on the move, rushing up towards the battle through the nebula. At the front was the EAS Temeraire, heavy guns fully armed and primed.

"All stations closed up for action." Commander Salah delivered. "Our escorts are keeping pace and also report fully battle ready."

Manny acknowledged the final report. "Very well, remember to target the engines first, we don't want this bird flying from us."

"Yes sir." Saleh growled with a North African lilt. "What about the enemy Destroyers?"

"Cut them down as we pass."

The Captain took a last glance at the deployment of his fleet, the Olympus class Shannon on one side ad the Artemis class EAS Lancer on the other, its rail guns loaded and ready for precision strikes on the enemy ship.

"Tell the Marines to get ready, release fighters as soon as we are clear."

"Sir, data feed from the Ghosts, we're receiving telemetry."

Manny checked the information filtering through, including the locations and disposition of the Dilgar ships. One destroyer was still hanging back in reserve while the other was engaging the Space Race still. Between the two was the Sekhmet.

"Tell Sinclair to get the hell out of the way." Manny said simply. "That destroyer is between us and the cruiser, we'll sort it out as we go by."

"Ghost Riders, break and withdraw!" Sinclair yelled. "Form up at five hundred K's! Go!"

The four ace pilots changed in a second, going from close strafes to all out retreat, dodging the scant fire chasing them as they moved well out of the way.

"Captain Calendar, fall back at once, we've got heavy ships inbound to this position!"

"Got it." Paul replied, Jors already steering the small ship away under a hail of interceptor fire, the Sekhmet looming increasingly closer. The destroyer turned to follow them but had barely made it a quarter of the way before all hell broke loose.

The nebula hid the Earth Force ships until the last moment preventing the Dilgar from seeing them, but also meant the human ships could not see out. The data feed from the Furies gave the ships the information their own sensors could not and allowed the small fleet to lay its guns without actually seeing the enemy. It gave the Earth ships the first shot, and they did not waste the opportunity.

The EAS Temeraire burst from the cloud with a lot more violence than the Vanquisher had done, its rough and blocky hull throwing the green gas and dust in all directions like an explosion birthing the grey cruiser. Its bow guns immediately opened fire, long stabbing laser beams and stuttering plasma pulses carving into the Dilgar destroyer at virtual point blank range.

The enemy vessel had no chance against the onslaught, its hull pounded and smashed by plasma rounds while the clustered laser cannons split the vessel straight through the centre, its inadequate armour proving little impediment. Even as it dissolve din white fire the Earth Force ship was rushing past, illuminated in the blaze and locking guns on the Sekhmet.

"Enemy sighted!" Saleh yelled with great spirit. "Solution plotted, all guns ready!"

"All guns, alpha strike!" Manny commanded. "Fire as we bear, do not give her a moment of peace!"

The Battlecruiser fired again, the heavy guns on the bow jabbing lasers where a regular cruiser maintained short ranged plasma cannons. Two more laser turrets on the left and right side of the hull joined the light show while the remaining guns delivered salvo after salvo of bright blue plasma.

The Dilgar ship shuddered heavily, its gravitic shielding blazing yellow and gold as the energy washed over it and physically pushed the vessel sideways. The Temeraire held her course, crossing behind the Sekhmet and unloading gunfire into its stern at less than half a mile distant.

Dal'shan caught his breath as a thirty foot spike of sharpened metal speared through the floor, jolted loos of its supports b the human barrage. He made a mental note to report it as a pretty big design flaw if he ever made it back.

"The Tar'tef is destroyed!" Ese'lan screamed over the echo of shaking metal. "Jump engines down!"

"All ahead flank!" He roared in return. "All guns fire at will! Target the cruiser first!"

The Vanquisher jolted into life, accelerating away and putting distance between itself and the Temeraire. Secondary guns sprang to life throwing bright balls of energy at the Earth Force cruiser, and at such close range many seared their way into the hull.

"Human escort vessels closing!" the First Officer continued reporting the scene. "They are locking on!"

"Evasive action, order all fighters and our last escort to engage the human support vessels!" The Battlemaster ordered, rapidly assessing the situation and gaining control of his forces. "This is not unexpected! We knew this was coming! Now get over it and fight like Dilgar! Keep moving, keep shooting, we're the better ship so damn well prove it!"

The yellow hull rolled and changed course, a volley of plasma fire missing the ship as it drew away and changed course. More pulsar batteries fired back focusing on the Temeraire with great accuracy but little affect as the interceptors dealt with the problem. Additional Dilgar fighters began to close as the Earth ships launched their own airwings kept safe and fuelled in the hangars until it was clear they were taking on their real target.

A pair of rail gun rounds passed straight through the shield, slowed enough y the defences to simply bounce off the hull but not before drawing a considerable surge from the generators.

"Shield systems running hot!" Ese'lan warned.

"Roll the ship and present fresh generators to the enemy!" Dal'shan demanded. "Ready forward cannons, get us into position and standby for a raking shot!"

MacDougan watched in pride as the initial salvos struck the disturbingly fast Dilgar ship with excellent accuracy.

"Nice work guns, stay with it."

The Corvette twisted its bow to try and keep with the Sekhmet, its mix of rail guns and plasma weapons peppering the shields and helping the heavier volleys delivered by the Temeraire. The Dilgar Captain was handling the ship magnificently, twisting it like a jumbo sized fighter and preventing damage accumulating on any given section. This was going to take a while.

"Sir, new orders." Meg relayed briskly. "Enemy Destroyer heading this way, Manny wants us to nail it."

Mackie smiled at the elegance in the words. "Put us on an intercept course, alter target and prepare to engage."

The Shannon came around and moved to head of the destroyer, its three guests watching the crew work in fascination. Francis had seen Hamato's bridge staff in action during the battle of Markab but this was something much more hectic. The constant change of details, the immediate response of the crew and the flow of information up and orders down was handled with mechanical precision. The crew seemed to deserve their reputation.

"Enemy fighters closing." One of the officers barked.

"Ignore them." Mackie dismissed. "Friendly fighters are moving to intercept, stay on the destroyer and hold course."

The battle continued to develop close by, newly arrived Starfuries cutting into the Thoruns and drawing them away letting MacDougan focus on pure ship to ship fighting.

"Incoming fire!"

"Interceptors." Mackie said calmly. "Rail guns, shoot back, plasma cannons stand by."

The small interceptor turrets did their job, striking the incoming bolter fire while the bigger rail guns blasted solid shot at the enemy with a slight puff of debris and paint chips. The first shots carved neatly into the Dilgar hull with a ripple of metal twisting, internal supports gouged away by the Earth Force rounds bending the upper and lower hull plates as the insides of the ship were rearranged.

"She's still on course, registering heavy damage to the hull." Meg reported.

The interceptors brought down a wave of missiles the destroyer spat their way before the rail guns fired again, a brief jet of fire rewarding the effort.

"Plasma cannons, ready a tight barrage on the engine section." Mackie ordered. "Engage as the target presents itself."

The Shannon's other guns low came to life, scattering shots at close range into the already troubled Dilgar destroyer. The plasma shots burned and boiled their way into the enemy vessel, triggering destruction among the machinery and systems as the armoured hull was yanked open by the concentrated fire. Finally the gunfire shredded through the aft of the ship and its grouped engines, smashing the fuel lines and finally destroying the ship, the forward third of its hull rolling slowly and lifelessly towards the expansive nebula.

"Two down." Francis noted.

"Yeah, but that last one's the real beast." Jenny said in response. "Better stay braced down, I got a feeling this is going to be rough."

The sound was like hail stones bouncing from a tin roof, only amplified to a near ear splitting level. Manny tried to filter out the distracting sound of weapons fire battering the hull of his ship and focused on the constant reports and warnings.

"Interceptors ninety percent and falling!" Commander Saleh shouted above the din. "We're stopping the worst but we can't stop them all!" The beating the hull was taking confirmed his analysis.

"Stay with him!" Manny ordered. "Try to keep the bow on target and fire as you get a target!

"Captain Keogh is reporting damage to his forward decks!" The Communication officer reported loudly.

"We have to maintain the attack!" The Captain replied. "Keep firing, attack from different vectors and keep up the pressure!"

The Cruiser swept around, its hull pitted and bent by the multiple impacts splashing brightly across it. Interceptors fired rapidly knocking down the heavier pulsar shots flying from The Vanquisher while plasma and laser cannons streaked deadly energy at the enemy. So far the shields were holding as the Temeraire pushed its engines to the limit trying to keep up, the normally red exhaust glowing blindingly white.

Also in the fight was the Lancer, the Rail gun frigate proving itself surprisingly fast and agile for a human ship. It kept pace with the Sekhmet, the Dilgar ship still faster and more manoeuvrable but not by so much that Captain Keogh couldn't keep up. The boxy ship lashed rail gun rounds into the enemy vessel, heavy calibre guns chugging out salvoes of heavy shot that pressed the Dilgar shield generators and sometimes broke through with enough force to inflict hull damage.

The Dilgar ship was fighting back, giving out damage as well as taking it. A storm of pulse fire was rising from the vessel, brilliant white and yellow orbs straddling both human ships and often avoiding the interlinked defence grids. The heavier protection of the Temeraire was still holding together, though it was buckling and bending as outer layers were stripped away. The Lancer was not so fortunate and already areas of the inner hull were exposed to space. The Frigate continued fighting, its combat abilities still a serious threat as it dodged the worst fire and relied on interceptors to try and stop the rest.

"Forward guns ready." Ese'lan reported with a vicious sneer. "Parameters set for Earth Force cruiser."

"Come about, prepare to fire." Dal'shan ordered. "Keep that Frigate off our back while we take the shot."

The lethal looking vessel looped over in a tight roll, avoiding a few salvos of fire and leaving the Lancer shooting at open space. The smaller ship swung around, its turrets tracking fast but a concentration of fire from the pulsar batteries delayed Keogh as he was forced to take evasive action or watch his interceptors get overwhelmed.

"She's locking on!" Saleh roared. "Forward guns charged and firing!"

"Present our bow to the enemy, minimum aspect!" Manny commanded swiftly. "All forward guns, let her have it!"

The Temeraire turned violently, pressing its crew into their seats with the force of the sudden turn. The long hulled ship turned to face the Sekhmet nose to nose and opened fire with every gun it possessed. Against lasers Manny knew the interceptors would be useless, the reaction time just could not compete with the light speed weapons so he tasked all weapons to go on the offensive blasting at the Vanquisher while the escorting Frigate swept in from above and behind.

The forward hull on the Sekhmet shimmered with the reflected light of the shield before a new crimson light bathed the ship, its fixed bow laser cannons screeching into life for the first time during the battle. One of the beams missed, travelling into the emptiness beyond the Temeraire, but the second did not. It sliced into the upper hull parting the thick armour with ease and carving through internal bulk heads and decking. It traced a burning line for two hundred yards, peeling through the metal plates like a bright can opener before the capacitors emptied themselves and the light died.

Illumination on the bridge cut out and was replaced by emergency lighting as power was diverted automatically to more vital systems. The ship rolled slightly to one side as the energy pushed down through the hull and ignited fittings and wiring wherever it went.

"Direct hit, Decks one to eight, Green section!"

"Hull integrity?" Manny demanded.

"Holding together, internal bulk heads are secure!" Saleh reported sharply.

"Enemy ship turning away!" The sensor officer shouted.

"She'll evade until she's recharged for another shot." The Captain guessed. "Weapon status?"

"Fully armed and available sir!"

"So keep firing, helm stay as close as you can and try to keep us orientated for maximum effect!" the ship shuddered again as particle bolts crunched into the weakened hull sections, the Dilgar ship breezing past the wounded cruiser.

"I don't feel the guns firing!" He called out. "We're not out of this fight people, bring that fat sod down!"

The Temeraire showered a broadside volley, blue shot after blue shot raining on the Vanquisher as she passed by and turned away, its shield soaking up the plasma shots that didn't miss the wildly moving vessel. Behind the Lancer maintained a dogged pursuit blasting away at close range and paying the price as its forward hull began to resemble a skeleton stripped of its muscle and flesh.

A pair of pulsar rounds cut into the very front of the Temeraire, shattering its forward sensors and destroying the sensitive jump projectors.

"That felt bad!" Manny stated.

"We lost the jump engines!" Saleh replied, still needing to shout over the impacts of both incoming fire and the overworked guns of the Temeraire herself. "We're stuck here!"

"Transfer power from the jump drives to the weapons, no point letting it go to waste."

Saleh did as ordered and the next salvo of laser fire made a notably greater impact against the enemy shields. "We're making a difference sir, but she's coming about for another run!"

"Face them helm!" Manny ordered. "Don't flinch in the face of the enemy, make sure we give as good as we get."

The Vanquisher dropped into position again and opened fire, but this time as it engaged a dense concentration of fresh plasma and rail gun strikes clattered into the side of the Sekhmet, pushing it off course and causing the lasers to miss, leaving a graze in the side of the Temeraire rather than a clean hit.

"That's the Shannon!" Saleh clapped for joy. "She's laying into that Dilgar bastard from port, the Lancer is to starboard locking on for a full rail strike!"

"And we're dead ahead." Manny felt a cold smile. "Dodge this you son of a bitch, alpha strike forward batteries, coordinate a time on target and hit it with everything we've got!"

"Captain, Ghost Riders claim to have a pair of nukes still on the rack."

"More the merrier, tell Sinclair to hit the enemy from the stern and see how well she likes that!"

The Earth Force ships unloaded every gun that could face the Dilgar ship, laser, plasma, rail shots and missiles all pounding the Sekhmet from multiple sides. It didn't matter where she turned or twisted, every angle was taking massive firepower and the shields were blazing like a miniature sun obscuring the vessel beneath. The Shannon emptied its missile magazines, the long white cylinders swooping enmasse into the rolling cruiser as the incoming fire intensified. They hit at the same time as Sinclair's squadron, the nuclear missiles pushing the shield that extra inch and causing the generators to overload.

The blazing shield vanished and a heartbeat later plumes of debris burst up from the Dilgar ship as the Earth Force guns bit directly into its armoured outer shell.

"Shields are gone!" Ese'lan said somewhat pointlessly, the sudden crash of Earth Force rounds hitting the hull told Dal'shan all he needed to know.

"Ah, the sound of heavy weapons piercing the hull, I knew this battle was missing something."

"Working to restore Battlemaster!"

"Negative, leave them." He dismissed. "We won't fix them in time anyway, divert shield power to main weapons and hold course."

"We're taking fire on all sides!"

"Hold your course!" Dal'shan snarled. "Forward guns, engage the human cruiser!"

The Vanquish tore on forwards, soaking up the damage and replying with constant discharges from its pulsar batteries. She was still closing on the Temeraire, almost nose to nose with the human escort ships rushing to keep up and accurately strike the Sekhmet.

Dal'shan's command fired again, its twin beams hitting the Earth Cruiser full on at close range. The cannons burned across the hull and speared clean through the upper tower rising above the main hull in a fountain of burning gas and liquid. Again the Temeraire was pushed off course by the force of the hit and again its guns never lessened their own attacks, blasting several chunks out of the Vanquisher as it completed its attack and pulled away trailing glittering debris and internal components from its wounds.

Something exploded deep in the Earth Force ship, ripping a hole through the hull and causing a massive bulge to pop up through the deck of the bridge, bending the floor and pressing an unlucky crewman into his console, crushing the mans legs in the process.

"Medical team to the Bridge." The Captain spoke quickly into his link. "Damage Commander?"

"Hull breaches in multiple sectors, forward interceptors are gone!"

"Hard to starboard, use the other interceptors to take up the slack and for heavens sake do not stop shooting!"

"Give us some distance." The Battlemaster rubbed his brow. "Damage?"

"We've got hull breaches on the lower decks, propulsion and weapons remain unaffected." Ese'lan stated simply. "Human light ships are in pursuit." The deck jolted with a scream of tortured metal. "And apparently getting more accurate."

He nodded in agreement. "Without shields the rail guns on that ship there become a greater problem." He pointed to the Lancer. "Status of that vessel?"

"Its hull is showing signs of heavy damage and the interceptors are at low effectiveness."

"Very well, concentrate fire on that vessel next, then we'll move in and finish of the cruiser." Dal'shan planned. "The rest we'll mop up afterwards."

Starfuries skimmed over the hull discharging plasma into the yellow surface with negligible effect, the heavy armour largely ignoring the efforts.

"Bloody hell!" April exclaimed angrily. "We may as well be shooting spit balls at the bastard!"

She twisted over the hull and altered course, the Dilgar ship not even attempting to engage them.

"We can't hurt them and they know it." Sinclair grunted. "They're going for the warships. What I'd give for a few more nukes!"

"This is Bill," Hague called in. "Those forward guns are masked by heavy armour, no way we can get a shot at them."

"What's the word Sir?" April asked.

"Keep attacking." Sinclair said without hesitation. "Stay clear of our own ships and the lines of fire, look for damaged areas and try exploit them. We can't just sit back, do what you can and hope it helps."

More plasma crashed onto the hull and punched small holes through the armour as the Shannon closed again, a further attack from the Corvettes rail guns penetrating deep into the Sekhmet with a satisfying explosion.

"They're still on course." Meg stated. "Heading for Keogh."

The Lancer was zig-zagging as the Sekhmet lined up to attack with its heavy guns, still firing its rail guns whenever it could. Some rounds were deflected by the slope of the armour while others successfully dug into the prow of the Dilgar ship. The damage inflicted was serious, but not enough to stop the war machine.

"Get us in closer!" Mackie ordered. "We've got to draw them away!"

The Corvette pushed its engines hard, matching the speed of the Dilgar ship and punishing it with close range gunfire. In return the Vanquisher released its secondary batteries and unloaded a frighteningly heavy concentration of particle bolts against the Corvette.

The interceptors caught some, but not enough and dozens of hits were registered on the side of the Corvette, breaking apart large sections of the armoured surface and blasting away one of the turrets.

"That wasn't good!" Francis cried out from his place on the bridge.

"We're getting pasted!" Meg shouted from the First Officers station. "Hull armour failing, we've got rips all through the port side!"

"Back us off!" Mackie ordered bitterly. "We can't stand up to something like this, pull us back and keep firing!"

The Shannon turned away under heavy fire as the Vanquisher made its final course correction and fired on the Lancer, the tremendously powerful laser cannons dictating the battle again as they reached out and struck the already damaged Artemis Frigate. They tore through the hull, passing through the ship from top to bottom and slicing sideways as the Sekhmet travelled on its course.

It was much the same fate that had befallen scores of Dilgar light vessels, simply overwhelmed by superior firepower. This time the tables were turned and the Frigate broke in half with a few brief explosions and little other fanfare.

"Target destroyed." Ese'lan stated simply. "Course plotted for a flank attack on the main cruiser."

"Execute." Dal'shan gave his approval.

The ship sliced through the void with Starfuries and the Shannon in tow, exchanging fire as they moved at increasing speed back towards the battered but still defiant form of the Temeraire.

"Try and focus on their engines!" Mackie ordered. "Move us in closer again!"

The torn hull of the Corvette changed course, interceptors glowing white hot as they were used far beyond their limits. More Dilgar fire sliced into the hull with crippling force, each hit pushing the corvette closer and closer to oblivion.

"Interceptors failing!" Meg shouted. "Enemy fire getting through!"

To emphasise the point a vast section of the forward hull was ripped off by the Vanquisher, the bent and ruined tangle of metal scraping along the upper hull of the Shannon leaving flaming wreckage in its wake.

"All weapons offensive fire!" Mackie ordered desperately. "We have to at least slow him down before he takes us out!"

"We've got a target!" The First Officer announced. "This looks like the main drive system!"

"Then lets last long enough to hit it."

The Vanquisher held its course, still contemptuously ignoring the smaller ship and content enough to swat it aside with its lesser guns. The aft batteries prepared for another devastating strike and fired, but this time their shots did not hit.

From above the Shannon appeared the Space Race, dropping down between the beleagured corvette and the Dilgar ship with every gun firing rapidly, its fresh interceptors easily knocking down the Dilgar attack.

"This is Paul Calendar to Earth ship, we can't keep this up for long, better do what your going to do fast!"

Jenny was grinning wider than she ever had in her life. "Way to go Paul."

"Roger that Captain, standby to break off." Mackie acknowledged. "Guns, do it."

The Shannon put a pair of rail gun rounds straight through the main gravitic engine drive, a boxy structure radiating red light at the back of the ship. The damage caused a massive secondary explosion that blasted a gaping hole through the Dilgar ship and ripping slabs from the outer hull in a flash of molten metal and fragments.

"That's it, clear us away!" Mackie said rapidly, watching as pieces of the enemy ship drifted closer to his own vessel. "Close on the Temeraire and prepare to offer further support."

A series of sirens warned of impending disaster, something Dal'shan merely noted in his mind and adjusted his plans to accommodate. "Cut power to the primary engines, activate secondary systems."

"Yes sir!" Ese'lan worked feverishly. "We're down to twenty percent thrust!"

"Sufficient." He said simply. "Are we in effective range?"

"Yes sir, forward guns locked on human cruiser."

"Open fire, bring us across her stern and concentrate all fire on enemy engines."

The damage had forced the Vanquisher to cut her speed dramatically, she was now slower than an Earth Force Dreadnought, but her punch remained undiminished as she continued to prove. The red lines touched the hull of the Temeraire again, shattering one of the ships own laser cannons and burning deep into the bow. The Earth Cruiser returned the compliment in kind, and with no shields and no ability to dodge the barrage the Dilgar ship simply had to endure. Beams and pulses crunched the bow of the Sekhmet and sheared their way into the warships innards, inflicting heavy damage throughout the enemy cruiser.

Slowly and almost majestically the two cruisers flew past each other at close range, forced to proceed at a snail's pace due to damage. Both ships were burning and heavily torn up, a plasma cannon round passed clean through the Vanquisher while a pulsar bolt impacted wit such force that fragments of the Temeraire's hull were flung hard enough to stick into the Sekhmet like a dart board.

As they passed each other the Vanquisher turned to fly behind the Earth Force ship, still more agile than the cruiser it targeted the engines and began severing fuel and power lines.

"Captain, the reactor is spiking!" Commander Saleh barked the warning. "Energy fluctuations, if we don't shut it down soon we'll lose the ship!"

"If we shut down with that thing out there we're dead anyway." Captain Power dismissed the warning. "Keep hitting her, she's falling apart, we just have to keep going!"

The Vanquisher was indeed taking massive damage, its once uniform and neat hull was now a tattered mess, of course the Temeraire was little better off with massive ruptures across her grey hull. Wrecked elements of both ships mingled in space while burning plumes of gas and flammable liquids illuminated their open and gutted interiors.

"There goes the rail gun." Jenny guessed as the Shannon caught another salvo of bolt fire, the Race a fraction too slow to catch all the incoming shots. The Corvette was likewise half wrecked with fires burning in several sections and half its guns knocked out.

"Those two ships are ripping each other to shreds." Francis said in amazement, watching the sensor displays and damage reports. He'd seen major space battles before, this fight was tiny in comparison to the engagement at Markab, but the sheer level of vicious close quarters exchanges looked a lot more deadly than the more distant and clinical movement of flights and delivery of mass destruction.

"There's no way he's making it home with that damage." Jenny remarked. "But he can still probably take both our ships out first, those things are meaner than we gave them credit for."

"It's the Captain as much as the ship." Francis added. "He knew how to fight that ship."

"He still does, Manny is getting the hell kicked out of him."

"Helm, new course." MacDougan's voice sounded loud in the small bridge. "We're going in again, fast pass, ready to fire as we close."

The Shannon protested as the engines pushed her forward again into the fray, her remaining guns, blackened and worn out spoke again, finding the Vanquisher only too happy to reply.

The Space Race stopped much of the fire but with such a large volume of incoming energy the small ship was pushed beyond its limits. Half a dozen powerful hits cored into the Shannon, blasting apart anything in their path and triggering massive damage throughout the ship. There was a loud crack followed by a hiss and Francis felt cold air tugging at his hair and clothes.

"Weapons are down!" A voice shouted in panic

"Major breaches on all decks! We're losing power!"

"Back off!" Mackie ordered again. "Damn it! And somebody seal the hole in the roof!"

"I'm on it." Jenny unfastened her belt and grabbed some emergency sealant. "We can't do it Mackie, we can't take that ship on!"

"We have to try!"

She applied the liquid sealant to the small breach in the roof of the bridge, it solidified and the escaping air stopped. "We're defenceless and just lost our last guns."

"We've got a job to do."

"We've also got an asset onboard Earth can't afford to lose Commander." She said pointedly. "We're out of this fight, we just need to survive now."

The Bridge was getting clouded with fumes from a fire somewhere nearby.

"What happened to damage control?" Dal'shan demanded. "I don't like the idea of getting poisoned on my own ship!"

"A team is on the way, a lot of the corridors have been cut off or severed."

"Very well." He said with a huff. "How are the weapons?"

"Still operational, main power is also operational."

"Enemy flagship?"

"All but dead in space." Ese'lan smiled coldly. "She's still firing, but I'm reading power fluctuations. She can't move and her weapons are intermittent."

"Time to finish them off then." Dal'shan nodded. "Then we'll hide in the Nebula until help arrives."

"Yes sir, coming around for another strike."

The Temeraire kept on fighting even knowing the inevitable, her reactor was on the brink of melt down and her surviving guns weren't receiving enough power, too many feeds and relays had been shot through during the fight.

"She's making another pass, coming in on our starboard flank." Saleh said blankly. "Her weapons are fully charged."

Manny grimaced. "Better hang on to something, this is going to hurt."

The heavy lasers struck again, carving deep into the forward hull and finally in the case of the right hand beam slicing right out the other side. Main power instantly went down as the reactor shut itself down, ignoring all the overrides and command codes to keep it active.

Miraculously the warship didn't break apart, and when the lasers stopped she was stillt here, two glowing craters where the weapons had hit.

"We're down to batteries." The XO reported absently, almost unbelievingly.

"We can't take another hit like that." Manny shook his head. "At least we know he isn't getting out of here alive either."

"He's charging weapons for another shot."

"Understood Commander." Manny nodded. "If he gets close enough I'll blow the fuel tanks and see what that does to him. We sure won't be going down quietly."

MacDougan watched in almost physical pain as the Temeraire sat helpless before the Sekhmet, the crippled ship sat between the Shannon and the Dilgar cruiser.

"He's going to kill her." He said with rising anger.

"We can't stop that." Jenny said calmly. "The Roosevelt is returning soon, let the Dreadnought finish this, he can't get away."

"It won't save Manny." The Commander stated.

"I know." Jenny nodded quietly. "I know Mackie, Manny is a friend, I owe him my life twice over, but we have to live through this. You don't know how important to the war effort that young man sat on this bridge is. If we lose him it'll hurt our intel efforts a lot, might cost us lives in the long term."

"I appreciate that Jenny, I really do. But you see, I still have a job to do. We can still complete this mission."

"I don't see…" She froze. "Don't even think about it."

"You better sit back down."

"Mackie, this is not a good plan!"

"Lieutenant, divert all power to the engines." Commander MacDougan stated with the formal and commanding tone of an officer of the Earth Alliance, quite aware this might be the last order he ever gave. "Give me ramming speed."

Meg swallowed her bile and fear, then gave a curt nod. "Ramming speed."

The ship shuddered as its reactor laboured to push energy through the damaged frame, propelling the flying brick towards the Temeraire and the Dilgar ship beyond.

"If this doesn't work Mackie…" Jenny began.

"I understand." He answered. "But this is why we're out here. I can't turn my back on this."

He took a few breaths and then watched as the distance grew smaller and smaller.

"Commander?" Dal'shan asked carefully. "How long until the main guns charge?"

"Another thirty seconds sir."

"Make it faster."

"I don't think we…" She paused, noticing the newly highlighted target. "That Corvette, I thought it was knocked out?"

"It was."

"Then why…"

"Because Commander that is a Captain who knows his duty." Dal'shan stated simply. "Can we take evasive action?"

"Not soon enough, the engines are shot to pieces."

"Then we must destroy him, I need those guns." The Battlemaster ordered with enforced calm. "Right now."

The Shannon cruised past the Temeraire at full burn, ion trails jabbing like spikes from the rear of the ship. Most of its control surfaces were gone, if it wanted to stop or turn it was too late now, the die was cast and there was no turning back. Every ounce of power thundered through the ship and pressed it ahead towards the silent, waiting Dilgar vessel.

Francis watched as the ship began to come apart, something on a damaged console at the front of the ship rattled loose, seeming to fall sideways as the acceleration of the ship created the illusion of gravity. The Sekhmet fired its lesser weapons but anything that could cover the front arc beside the heavy lasers was gone, blown to pieces by the Temeraire giving the Corvette a clear run. Starfuries fell in beside, peppering the Dilgar hull to try and perforate it and make the initial impact marginally more survivable.

"Okay Francis, get ready for this." Jenny warned. "This is not going to be fun, don't strain aginst the impact, just go limp and let the seat do all the work."

"Okay, I got it." He said nervously. "Oh boy, this is not what I planned."

"Me neither, just keep it together, here we go."

The massive Dilgar ship filled every screen, collision alerts wailing in unified panic as the enemy ship loomed large.

"Brace for impact!" Mackie shouted. "Hang on!"

The last few hundred yards vanished in an instant and the Corvette ploughed into the Sekhmet, shattering the equatorial drive ring and carrying on into the primary hull itself. Tattered grey hull plates were stripped away as the Shannon made contact, its main load bearing struts punching deep into the Dilgar ship and breaking through walls and bulkheads with a scream like a thousand banshees.

The bridge crew were thrown hard against their restraints as the ship decelerated extremely rapidly, most of them simply blacking out. Jenny held on to consciousness, they she wished she hadn't done, and heard the mournful cries of the ship as it buckled, bent and compressed itself into a hulk.

Earth armour dug its fingers deep into the Vanquisher, determined not to let go once it had made contact. Two Dilgar damage control parties ceased to exist as tens of thousands of tons of grey metal pulverised the area they were working on and still the Corvette did not stop, not until nearly a full third of the ship had buried itself in the Sekhmet did the engines finally cut out and the Earth Force vessel halt, surrounded by pieces of itself and its mortal enemy.

Silence descended on the two ships, broken pieces of electronics floated lazily on the Shannon's bridge as Jenny blinked her eyes and moved her limbs to get the feeling back. There were no whistling breaches or crackling fires, so for now at least the ship seemed stable.

Some muttered groans indicated the crew were coming around, shaking heads and looking at the familiar but different environment now surrounding them.

"Everyone still with me?" Mackie's familiar voice asked, which was answered with unenthusiastic but still conscious murmurs of confirmation. "Lock down the ship, I don't want her blowing up while we're not looking."

"I think I'm regretting this mission." Francis moaned, clutching his head in his hands. "I should have stayed at home."

"This was nothing." Sergeant Jackson was already fully recovered and unstrapping his seat belts. "In fact, I kinda enjoyed it."

"That's what joining the Rangers does to your brain." Jenny slid away from her chair and floated towards Francis, helping the still groggy agent with his own escape.

Across the bridge Megan finalised her report. "We're wedged in the enemy ship, I don't think either of us are moving away."

Mackie nodded. "Well we can't just sit here and let the Dilgar disengage."

"No sir."

"We've disabled the enemy ship, now we take her."

Meg did not look entirely pleased with the idea. "Sir, the Marines are on the Temeraire."

"Well they'll have to come here now." Mackie said. "But it'll take them a while to load up, time we don't have."

"Commander." Sergeant Jackson cut in. "I'm with you, we better do this fast, what do you have onboard?"

"About twenty Marines, maybe weapons for half the crew."

"Any experience in boarding actions?"

"Nothing beyond basic drills." Mackie answered.

"Alright." Jackson said confidently. "I'll volunteer to lead, I've done this a dozen times."

"Fine by me." Mackie accepted the option, while he was senior officer Sergeant Jackson had the skills and in this sort of situation MacDougan wasn't going to stand on formality. "We'll get the forward breaching tube working, cut into a pressurised section and try to support you from here. Take anyone you need and good luck."

"Yes sir." Jackson pushed himself around and came face to face with Jenny. "Coming along?"

"Once a Gropo..." She shrugged. "Let's get to it."

Over the next few minutes all able bodied crew members were gathered in the forward sections, arming themselves with whatever was available. Rifles and hand guns were passed around but many had to make do with tools that would serve as bludgeons. Jenny gracefully hauled herself past shattered hull plates and collapsed corridors until she arrived with the assembling teams.

"You can feel the gravity pulling us down."

She turned to find Francis behind her.

"It's from the Dilgar ship, once we're over I guess it will be like fighting on a planet. Which, by the way, you won't be doing."

He steadied himself on half a support beam, the collision had made the front of the Shannon inside and out almost unrecognisable, only the central most decks still had pressure and even then there were hundreds of micro hull breaches slowly sucking the air from the helpless ship.

"I trained with the Gunny! I can do this!"

"Francis, no way." Jenny said flatly. "Yeah, you know some moves, but you aren't military. You aren't in shape for this."

"I don't need to be in shape." He withdrew a PPG pistol from his waist holster. "I'm not going to get into a boxing match, that's what they invented guns for."

"Francis…"

"Look, I know the drill, for boarding actions you use Marines in full sealed combat gear, air tight and stuff, because the first thing anyone does is vent the air, right?"

"Yeah, right."

"I don't see any of that stuff here, so if they vent the air, we all die."

"We just gotta go fast enough and take the ship before they respond."

"Or you take me to the nearest computer console and I'll make sure they never get a chance." Francis said. "I'll block the system and guide you through."

She gave him an even look. "This is real Francis, this is going to be close combat."

"I'm ready for it, I've seen dead people."

"Not like this, this is blood and guts Francis, this is the worst sort of fighting you can imagine. Storming a warship with Marines is a bloodbath, with techs and mechanics…"

"It'll be worse if I don't go." He said firmly. "Just let me try, let me do something to help."

She sighed heavily. "Alright, but stick by Steve and me like glue, got that?"

"Clear as crystal Captain Sakai."

She dropped into the large room at the end of the boarding tube, an extendable tunnel with plasma torches at the end to burn through enemy hulls. Jackson and two dozen assorted crew were there along with eleven surviving Marines in appropriate combat gear.

"So remember, keep to cover, let the Marines take point, and don't be afraid to use full auto." He said, concluding a lengthy speech. "We don't want any of them getting back up again."

The door to the tunnel slid open, the far ending crunching through the tangled Dilgar ship until it found a solid wall to create a seal against. The plasma cutters went to work, a signal telling the teams to standby for the attack.

"Steve." Jenny managed to walk to the former Ranger thanks to the Dilgar gravity systems working through the embedded EA ship. "Francis is coming."

"Fair enough." The soldier said without any of the protests she expected. He handed her a rifle. "Remember how to use one of these?"

She shot him an indignant glance and charged the weapon. "I haven't been out of the field for that long Steve."

She was interrupted by a shock of static on her hand link, the small flat communication device given to all EA personnel as standard.

"…Say again, come in Shannon…" A male voice repeated.

"Paul, Paul is that you?"

"Jenny?" The voice brightened. "You can't guess how glad I am to hear you."

"Same here, what's it look like out there?"

"Total mess, your ship is well and truly stuck there."

"What about the Temeraire?"

"Looks like she's getting ready to send assault shuttles, but she's running on battery power, it's going to take forever for them to launch."

She cursed under her breath.

"We've got a grapple on the Race." Paul said. "Snclair's fighters are here too, we're going to grab you and pull the Shannon clear if we can."

"Wait a minute, we're going over to take the Dilgar ship ourselves."

There was a slight pause. "Are you nuts?"

"Don't disengage us yet, get the grapples attached but don't start pulling. Mackie is on the bridge, talk to him, I'm going to be busy."

"Just be careful, alright?"

"You know I will." She said back with a smile. "I'll call when I'm done."

"Good luck."

Dal'shan spat blood on the floor, the ache in the side of his head hinting he had probably lost some teeth when his command chair failed to remain secured to the deck. He noticed one of the bridge staff was dead, electrocuted in his chair, while the others were largely intact.

"Commander," He reached over and nudged Ese'lan. "Come on Commander, we're still alive."

Her eyes flickered open, immediately she winced from some internal pain. "Did they ram us?"

"Unfortunately yes." He looked up to the barely functioning main display, a sensor extrapolation showing the human Corvette wedged in the bow of the Vanquisher. "They will probably try to take our ship, we must be ready."

He stood up a little shakily but quickly forced himself to gain control. He professionally drew his sidearm, an immaculate custom made weapon from a batch of six his Father had ordered.

"Take arms Commander, we'll all have to accept our duty today."

He armed the pistol and holstered it again, then leaned over and activated the shipwide comm system.

"This is Battlemaster Dal'shan to all crew. Arm yourselves and prepare to repel boarders."

He released the switch and turned to the First Officer. "Cycle the airlocks and prepare to vent affected sections. Also try and set up the self destruct mechanism."

"Understood sir."

"Whatever happens, I will not let the pride of the Dilgar navy fall into human hands." He smiled. "And we will get to take them down with us."

With a shock of flying metal a large section of the corridor vanished, blown through by the boarding tube. At once Marines jumped down fanning out left and right with rifles sweeping ahead of them, laser sights tracing a ghostly finger in the gas and dust of the ruined hall.

"Breach secure, moving on!"

As the Marines began advancing further away the rest of the boarders filed out and moved to find some cover amid the corridors, which was not an easy task. Francis was among them, hand gun clutched in had as he followed Jenny.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" She asked, her eyes scanning for trouble.

"Yes, it'll embedded in a wall." He answered. "look for a screen."

Sergeant Jackson quickly assessed the situation, then turned to the nearest people. "You two Marines, protect the way out, five crew men stay with them, we can't afford to be cut off."

The assigned people quickly set about fortifying the area with wreckage.

"Everyone else, push forward slow and steady."

The Earth crew began to move out, swiftly sweeping for enemies and pushing deeper into the ship, they found a few bodies at first but no definite contacts until they were a further four minutes into the action.

"Contact front!" A Marine shouted, dropping flat and firing a burst of PPG fire at a fleeting humanoid shaped figure at the far end of a corridor. The Dilgar returned the fire, pressed into alcoves while the humans engaged from behind an intersection.

"There!" Francis pointed. "That's a computer access point, recessed into the wall!"

Jenny looked at it with dread, it was just behind the Marines and a fair amount of Dilgar fire was impacting around it.

"Can you work in there?"

"Yeah, just get me over."

"Okay." She flexed her fingers. "In three, two, one…go!"

Jenny darted across the Corridor, firing as she went with a stream of PPG rounds. She didn't hit anything but did force the Dilgar into cover long enough for both herself and Francis to reach the recess, barely deep enough for them to squeeze into.

"This shouldn't take long." He wired his palm computer into the input socket, selecting the appropriately shaped adapter from his pocket. A few particle bolts slapped the metal wall near them causing him to press further in, Jenny in turn leaned out and fired a few shots. Francis felt the heat from the rifle but ignored it.

"Just give me a minute."

"Internal sensors still down." Ese'lan snapped. "But we have confirmed contact on Deck six, section forty."

"Good enough." Dal'shan nodded. "Seal the area off and pump out the air."

"Very good sir." She set to work tapping the orders into the computer. "To inform you sir, fourteen of our own crew will die in this procedure."

"A sad loss, but a necessary one." Dal'shan lowered his head for a moment. "We will mourn them in time, proceed."

Heavy doors clanked down at either end of the section, sealing the corridors and the firefight within.

"Francis!" Jackson shouted from behind an upturned utility trolley, firing a quick burst which flung a Dilgar sailor back from cover in a hiss of impacting plasma.

"I didn't do it!" He shouted back, frantically working his small computer.

"Well you better do something!"

The doors hissed as airtight seals were enacted, Francis didn't even look up.

"Area locked down." Ese'lan reported. "Beginning atmosphere dump."

Dal'shan accepted the news. "We need main power, and enough thrust to get us into the nebula."

"Engineering was largely undamaged, we should…" She frowned. "The venting has been cancelled."

"Try again."

"Sir, I have no access, this terminal is locked!" She moved to another console. "So is this one! I can't get into the main computer!"

"How?"

"It looks like someone is overriding our command codes and shutting down the system! Impossible!"

He rolled his eyes. "Well we did come here to find Earth's best computer warfare expert. Mission accomplished."

"He's on the ship?"

"Eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, regardless of how improbable must be the truth." Dal'shan recited. "He's here, which means we can still fulfil our duty. Did he get into the self destruct?"

"No sir, that's hard wired straight from the bridge."

"Well then, we can remove this obstacle from Jha'dur's path and make her life a little easier, and earn ourselves a little peace in death."

"Yeah, they call me the wizard." Francis grinned. "I got it! I broke their ship!"

As he said it the doors ground open.

"Way to go boy!" Jackson grinned. "We need to get tot he bridge or command centre!"

"Hang on." He called up the ship schematics and plotted a path. "I have one command room, it's one deck up in the middle of the ship."

"Okay, Marines, lets go!"

"I'm opening all the doors up to it, and sealing off crew in other parts of the ship." He reported. "Should lessen the opposition."

"Outstanding Franky!" Jackson congratulated. "We might turn you into a soldier yet."

The Marines began pressing forward against the weakened Dilgar defence, one of them spinning around as a particle round found its mark. The others got close enough to throw a pair of grenades, then ducked back into cover.

Both orbs bounced with a clink and rolled, an internal gyro-stabiliser making sure the internal charge remained up facing even as the devices rolled. The hit the wall, slowed and then exploded. A primer charge launched the weapons three feet into the air before the main body detonated showering hot shrapnel into the Dilgar at waist height. At once the Marines charged forward to take advantage of the confusion and devastation and stormed the group of surviving Dilgar, shooting or beating them into submission.

"Stairs are on your left!" Francis shouted to them. "Go up and just follow the corridor!"

"I'm proud of you." Jenny slapped his back.

He grinned wide in return, but it was a smile that died on his face. "Oh hell."

"What is it?"

"It's a self destruct!"

"Can you shut it down?"

He rapidly typed a few commands, fingers working with blinding speed. "Not from here, I need to be on the bridge in about four minutes or we're dead."

"Well just so happens I was heading that way." She exchanged power caps for her rifle. "You know the drill."

"Say behind you, stay low, if in doubt shoot it twice."

"That's the Gunny talking!" She laughed despite herself. "Come on, four minutes."

Sergeant Major Jackson found heaven in hell, this was his moment, the day and time, the very hour he was born for. He relished the stink of burning air, the blast of heat generated by energy weapons and the refreshingly satisfying crunch an opponents nose made when it connected with a rifle.

He was leading a rag tag force into the heart of the most elite enemy ship Earth had ever faced, a desperate battle that should not have happened. Everything was going wrong but amid that he had answered the call and stepped up to the challenge. He was not young, he had seen mud and blood in scores of battles and had not expected to see it again, just hoped he would. He didn't have a lust for battle or a death wish, but he knew he was good at it and that those rare skills were vital to serving his people and defeating the Dilgar.

More Dilgar rushed them, in the close confines they seemed to come out of nowhere giving his team little warning. Two Shannon crewmen were felled as they tried to take on some veteran Dilgar troops, these ones in military uniform rather than fleet colours. They expertly pressed themselves against the walls and brought down a Marine who was returning fire.

Jackson threw himself down, avoiding a well placed burst from one of the Dilgar soldiers and responded in kind, sending a stream of plasma that struck the opponent and blackened the wall behind him. The act of launching himself to the floor brought him close to the second Dilgar soldier who with his comrade had been assigned to guard the bridge.

He lowered his rifle and Jackson rolled closer to the Dilgar, not further away as expected throwing off the aliens aim. The Ranger kicked the legs out from the Dilgar dropping him tot he floor so he landed beside Jackson, who quickly wrapped his strong hands around the soldiers neck. He pressed the aliens head against the wall were it met the floor and pressed hard, on the third try breaking the neck with a grinding crunch.

He retrieved his rifle and used the body as cover, sheltering from two figures firing from the bridge doorway. Two expertly aimed bursts snatched away the defenders and gave Jackson some breathing space.

"That's the bridge." Jenny crouched beside him, gun still smoking. She offered a hand and helped him up. "They set the self destruct."

He noticed Francis behind her. "Can you stop it?"

"No problem Jaws." He nodded with a smile, using the Sergeants nick name.

"Sarge, we've got a lot of Dilgar coming down on us!" One of the Marines warned.

"They must have broken through." Jenny guessed. "We'll be quick."

"Wait, I'm down to a quarter charge." Jackson said. "You stay here, Francis and I will deal with the Bridge."

Jenny wanted to argue, but the Sergeant's plan made sense. "Okay, you've got two minutes."

Jackson sprinted for the bridge doors leaving Jenny to command the defence while Francis followed. "Five yards Franky, no closer." He reminded as he paused at the doors. "Okay, let me go first, look for the main control."

"I will." Francis replied, computer in one hand and gun in the other.

He moved swiftly, aware that time was against them. The bridge was a mess, a narrow approach corridor opening into a circular room.

"I think I see the controls, just there." Francis pointed.

"Okay, get over there and…"

From nowhere the Sergeant felt a massive blow to his head before dropping like a stone. From an unnoticed rip in the wall a female Dilgar stepped out with a heavy section of wall support, the metal bar turning out to be a highly effective weapon. She raised it again to strike the prone Ranger but did not get a chance.

Francis fired, this time not as an uncontrolled necessity but with a clear and precise decision. He was a different person, his training at the hands of Gunnery Sergeant Hurley months ago had shown him how to accept what he might one day have to do in service of Earth, to make decisions like this without doubt or hesitation. Battle Commander Ese'lan was the acid test of this training, and when that fraction of a second presented itself Francis acted to save his friend.

The plasma shots struck down the Commander, her slim form thrown forward and dropping on the Sergeant with barely a final breath. Death was as instant as it could be.

He wanted to check on Jackson, but there was much more at stake and he had to stop the self destruct, so he swallowed his doubt and leapt forward.

...Right into the decorated chest of a Dilgar male.

Francis lost the grip on his gun, the PPG clattering to the ground as he stepped back to maintain his balance. The Dilgar glared at him, not in malevolence or hate but in fascination mixed with study, a look of curiosity and detachment. He raised an exceptional looking handgun and pointed it at Francis.

Francis gave in to instinct, and with speed he did not realise he possessed he launched a round kick that connected with the officers hand, throwing the ornate gun aside. The Dilgar seemed a little surprised, and at once Francis capitalised, throwing a trio of quick punches at the immaculately uniformed man and driving him back, drawing on all the self defence lessons he had been shown by the Gunny. He forced the officer back and pressed his adrenaline driven counter attack.

It lasted three more seconds until the officer recovered. The Dilgar felt one more punch on the side of his head which seemed to cause much pain before he blocked Francis' next attack, and then retaliated in kind. The officer hit the Agent hard in his chest driving the wind with shock from the young man, then followed with two more stomoach crunching strikes which caused Francis to stumble back. The Dilgar struck him on the temple before delivering a strong right hook which finally dropped Francis to the floor with his head spinning.

Battlemaster Dal'shan soothed his jaw, the punch the young man had thrown exasperating the pain incurred in the collision. He reached down and picked up the human weapon, a compact energy pistol, and stood over the man.

"Judging by your clothing, you must be the code breaker."

Francis was extremely surprised to hear him speak English, until he registered the Dilgar officers face and recalled the file photo he had studied almost a life time ago.

"Dal'shan." He stated, slipping into Dilgar. "Son of the Supreme Warmaster."

If Francis was surprised by Dal'shan's English the officer was just as surprised by the human's Dilgar. "Good clean accent, you could have been educated on Omelos."

"You have to let me turn off the self destruct."

Dal'shan glanced sideways at the command console, than back to the man on the floor. "No, I don't think so."

"You'll die too."

"I know."

"But you don't have to, you can come with us, I promise fair treatment."

"We do not surrender, death before dishonour." Dal'shan replied matter of factly.

"That isn't how it has to be, you won't be hurt." Francis bargained. "You'll go home after the war, back to Omelos, you don't have to die."

"But would they have me back? A coward and traitor who chose to save his own life instead of do the noble thing and preserve the reputation of my people."

Francis was acutely aware of the time. "I can't argue with you, but nobody else has to die here."

"We all have to die, war demands it." Dal'shan answered. "My people have a way, while we kill our enemies however is most efficient we reserve a meaningful death for noted adversaries."

"What does that mean?"

"It means a worthy enemy can be given an honourable death at the hands of the opposing Commander. It was common when we warred with each other, but terrifically rare in this war, the Dilgar consider few aliens worthy enough of respect."

Francis had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach where this was going.

"Warmaster Jha'dur considered you worth the risk of this mission. You seem to have earned her respect, and while I know she herself wanted to do this, I must take her place."

Francis did not answer, he was out of options. One thing he wasn't going to do was beg for his own life.

Dal'shan nodded in approval. "You die well young man, she was right, you are a worthy enemy."

Dal'shan was suddenly knocked off his feet, spinning and twisting the gun around as he was lifted aside by someone grabbing and pushing him aside. There was a hiss and thump of a gun firing, then a scent of burning and lingering smoke. Dal'shan saw the eyes of his enemy, dark pupils sitting in a circle of white set in a dark skinned and wrinkled face. He gave a slight laugh as feeling left his body and he could no longer control his legs, dropping to the floor.

"Well," He managed to say quietly as his uniform smoked from the gunshot. "That was a great contest." His head rolled back. "Very well played."

He thought to himself Jha'dur was not going to be happy about this, then thought no more.

Steve Jackson stood in the centre of the room, the Battlemasters own gun in his hand breathing hard, the back of his head slick with blood.

"Francis. Self destruct." He said hoarsely at the young agent shocked and still flat on the floor. "Now would be good."

He forced himself up, stepping over the fallen Dilgar hero and brushing debris off the main control console, then attaching the palm computer. He jumped with shock as a figure burst into the room, calming down when he recognised Jenny.

"What happened?" She asked.

"We met the Captain." Jackson pointed with the gun to the fallen Dilgar.

"Francis, status?"

He worked quickly, calling up as much data as he could. "It's not good, the sequence already started, we missed it."

He growled in frustration, they had missed it by moments. "He overloaded the reactor, it's going into melt down."

"Can we stop it?"

"Only if we go down there with buckets and pour the reactor coolant back in."

"So a no then." Jenny sighed. "We better vacate." She tapped the link. "All teams, withdraw to Shannon at once. Paul, still there?"

"Still here." The voice crackled back.

"We'll need your help soon."

"We're all set." He informed. "Grapples are on and engines ready."

"Better tell Amnny not to send help, this ship's gonna blow in…Francis?"

"About ten minutes."

"Hear that Paul?"

"I heard, now get yourselves out of there." Paul stated. "Let me know when you're clear."

"There aren't any Dilgar behind us." Jenny returned to the two people in the room still alive. "But we better go quick, might take a while to drag us free."

Jenny and Francis stepped over the bodies and debris and began to leave, Sergeant Jackson did not follow, instead taking a seat where the First Officer usually was stationed.

"Steve, not a good place for a time out." Jenny chided. "We have to go, right now."

He shook his head. "Well you better make your move, I'm just going to sit here a while."

"Steve, just what…" Jenny began, but stopped when Jackson raised his hand, covered in blood.

"Turns out I'm not as quick on the draw as I used to be." He stated calmly. "That guy managed to shoot same time as I did, least I'm still more accurate."

She rushed up to him, noticing one side of his uniform was fully red with blood, the side he had kept hidden from them. "I don't think so you stubborn old bastard, we'll drag you out."

"No, you'll run and get out of here." He pushed her away. "Both of you!"

"If I have to beat you unconscious and drag you out, you know I will!" Jenny snapped. "We don't leave anyone behind!"

"No you won't, because you've got a mission." Jackson nodded at Francis. "Both of you need to get clear, dragging me will slow you down. In fact, so will arguing so just go!"

"Dammit Steve!" Jenny yelled. "Just…just…"

"Just go!" he finished for her. "Go on, what sort of moron wants to live forever anyway."

He weighed the Dilgar piston in his hand, appreciating its design. "Hey Francis, catch."

He threw it to the young man, who caught in both hands. "Sarge, I don't know…"

"You need a gun, now don't forget all I taught you, right?"

"Right Jaws."

"Good, now get gone and make them pay for dicking with Earth Force."

"I promise."

"And you." He pointed at Jenny. "You got stuff to live for, now run."

She set her jaw firmly, stood straight and delivered a salute. He returned it with all the precision of his years, even though his strength was all but drained. Then they turned and left, dashing back to safety.

"Well, not a bad little place to retire in." Jackson chuckled. "Wish I'd brought a beer."

Jenny was the last, dropping the airtight door at the far end of the tube and sealing it. "Mackie, lets go."

"Understood boarding team, we're under way." He replied through the link.

She leaned back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling, exhaling a long breath.

"What happened to the Sarge?" One of the Marines asked.

"He didn't make it." Francis answered in a small voice. "But he took their best officer with him."

"He checked out how he would have wanted." Jenny said with certainty. "Sergeant Jaws Jackson isn't the sort of man who retires to a small house and just fades away. He would have wanted it this way."

She deck shuddered as the Shannon began to move. Francis shared a look of desolation with Jenny, they had both said goodbye to a good friend and a good man.

"We should get further back, saying this close to the Dilgar ship is a bad idea." She suggested. "We're done here."

On the bridge Commander MacDougan was fighting to keep his aura of calm confidence. "Come on Meg, ease up the power."

The ship rumbled more as the retro thrusters began powering up, pushing against the hull of the Dilgar warship surrounding the front of the EAS Shannon.

"We only have two thrusters left operational." She said grimly. "I don't think it's going to be enough."

"Doesn't have to be." He reached for the communication control. "Captain Calendar, give me whatever you can."

"Powering up Commander." The freighter responded. "Here we go."

Outside the Space Race pushed its engines to full, the grapples normally used for latching onto cargo pods pulling taught as they puled on the stern of the EA Corvette. The surviving Starfuries lent their aide, small as it was each extra ounce of thrust was well received and helped the struggling ship.

"We're dragging them with us!" Meg shouted, needing to raise her voice as the by now familiar bangs and vibrations filled the ship.

The Shannon was so deeply embedded in the Avnquisher Paul's efforts were only serving to bring the massive Dilgar ship with them, the interlocked vessels inching slowly along together.

"Stand by to decompress the forward decks!" MacDougan commanded. "Anyone in there?"

"No sir, the boarding tem is clear amidships."

"Okay, lets see if this jolts us loose." He hoped inwardly it was enough. "Do it."

Meg carried out the orders, opening all the airlocks and emergency seals and blasting a huge volume of air from the front of the ship through the tattered hull and pushing fiercely at the Sekhmet. With a hard shake that lasted thirty solid seconds the Earth Force ship pried itself loose, a deafening squeal signalling success.

"We're clear!" Megan cheered. "Gaining distance!"

With no resistance now the Shannon picked up speed, the doomed Dilgar ship growing smaller as the heavy duty engines of the Space Race hauled her clear of the expected blast zone. They had made it almost to the Temeraire when the Vanquisher's reactor finally gave up.

The once mighty warship vanished in a white ball, an eruption of energy which shredded and pushed aside a wide area of the nearby nebula and buffeted the damaged Corvette despite the distance. The light remained for a considerable amount of time before fading away along with all evidence that the Vanquisher and her occupants had ever existed.

"Enemy destroyed." Meg reported flatly.

"So they are." Affirmed MacDougan. "I'm going to need a damage report and casualty list, that thing came damn close to punching our ticket."

"Shannon, this is Space Race, alright over there?"

"Captain Calendar, just fine. We owe you big time for your help."

"Call me Paul." He replied from the other ship with a slight laugh. "We'll help you slow down, then we're getting some life pod readings from the Lancer. We'll go pick them up."

"Understood Paul, we got him in the end."

"Yeah, we did." Paul answered. "The Roosevelt should be here soon, just hang tight another few minutes and everything will be fine."

As fine as it can be, Mackie thought. "Thanks again."

"Don't mention it." Paul answered. "For me this is a slow day, Race out."

Elsewhere there was not much jubilation, the job was done but at a high price. Jenny and Francis sat together, an empty feeling in their chests having nothing to do with the now returned zero gravity.

"Whatever I do in this war now, I'm doing it for the Sarge." Francis stated firmly. "He saved my life and it cost him his own, I'm never going to forget that."

"They might have transferred him, but he never stopped being a Ranger." Jenny said solemnly. "He didn't have that badge on his arm, but when he died, he died as an Army Ranger."

"What do we do now?"

"We go home, go and do our jobs." Jenny said simply. "We fight, and we strive, and we never forget."

Francis nodded.

"We never forget."


	77. Chapter 77

76

Camelot Station

Brakir

The arrival of an additional cruiser largely went unnoticed, one more Earth Force warship among the hundreds patrolling and holding station across the system. The only thing that really marked it as different was its hull, gleaming and fresh with its blue heraldry unlike the majority of ships that were dark and stained with the wear and use of the long deployment and frequent action they had seen.

The vessel made a brief journey from the jump point to the station located in high orbit around Brakir at the distant LaGrange point, the traditional pin wheel style customary to average sized human bases across explored space. It came to a relative stop and then a few minutes later deployed a shuttle which hopped over the short distance and entered the central docking bay, cycling quickly and efficiently so not to disrupt the schedule of the visiting guest.

"General Denisov sir." The dock master offered a salute at the inner airlock. "Welcome aboard."

The Five Star General returned the gesture, there was no lined soldiers or fanfare, just this one man to meet him and guide him to the main conference room. Exactly as requested.

"Everyone ready?" Denisov asked as they started walking.

"Yes sir, we contacted everyone in person and made the arrangements quietly, all on the quiet." The other officer stated. "We didn't broadcast anything on any channel, all done face to face."

"Good, I trust the EIA but we can't risk the Dilgar getting a hint of this meeting. Might be too much for them to resist."

They stepped into a lift and waited as it travelled out to the main habitat ring, delivering them almost right next to the conference room.

"I am not to be disturbed unless there is an immediate emergency." Denisov stated. "Or until lunch time."

The Dock Master nodded and left to relay the instructions to the station commander himself. Denisov let him depart, then entered the room and locked the door behind him.

Denisov's caution was well founded, within the room waited the senior military command of what had become known as the Liberation Navy. They were well protected within the station and literally surrounded by three full fleets of Earth Force warships but even so the concept of a suicidal Dilgar attack was at the fore of the General's mind. Hamato was willing to accept certain risks in combat, Denisov was altogether more cautious and precise in his philosophy.

The room was as bland as any human built structure, an expression of functionality over everything else. The room had a simple job to do and contained all it required to perform its function, a table, some chairs and a few large display screens embedded into the wall.

"Good Morning." Denisov announced and was greeted by Admiral Hamato. "Glad you all could make it."

"Likewise General." Hamato shook hands. "How was the journey?"

"Uneventful." Denisov found his chair. "Certainly easier than the first time we made this trip." He smiled slightly. "If you would all care to sit down we'll make a start."

The mix of humans and aliens did so, except for Hamato who opened proceedings.

"General, May I introduce my second in command Admiral Ferguson, Grand Master Valna of the Markab, Representative Xyten of the Vree and Admiral Broma of Brakir."

Denisov put the names to faces with a nod of greeting to each one, they represented the main League forces arrayed with the human fleets. A few others were part of the alliance but were either too small to contribute more than token ships like the Descari, or too far away for the meeting like the Cascor.

"My greetings and thanks to you all for joining this mission." Denisov stated. "For those I haven't met before I am General Alexei Denisov, overall commander of the Earth Alliance Military."

He dropped a data crystal into a receiver on the table and patched the information through to the large display screen.

"We are here to decide on the final course of this war, the push through Dilgar home territory to reach Omelos itself."

There were a few light exhalations as the magnitude of the mission set in, the consequences this strategy would have for the future of the galaxy. Hamato of course revealed nothing in his expression.

"The overall objective is the destruction of the Dilgar Navy." Denisov stated. "Followed by the isolation and siege of Omelos until such time as we force a surrender."

"Will we be landing soldiers on Omelos?" Valna asked.

"Not if we can avoid it, the odds are too steep even with the Gaim on our side."

"Orbital strikes?" Ferguson chipped in.

"Precision attacks on infrastructure and military forces only." Answered the General. "However the priority will be the survival of our own forces before minimising Dilgar casualties. Rules of Engagement for that are still being worked on. Our main purpose of discussion today is to create a basic strategy that gets us to Omelos in the first place."

He brought up the familiar map on the screen.

"The Dilgar still have most of their ships out there." Denisov continued. "We don't know where, but they are no doubt being held in reserve to defend their home territories."

"We estimate Dilgar losses to be on the order of thirty percent." Hamato added to the briefing. "However this does not reflect the true picture, factoring in the experience and fighting prowess of those ships destroyed at Markab and Bestine equates to a much greater loss than numbers alone imply."

"Basically we really kicked them in the nuts." Admiral Ferguson grinned.

"Intelligence believes the Dilgar will have replaced those losses by January or February next year." Denisov explained. "Our goal will be to end the war before then, or at least cause enough damage and disruption to their economy to ensure those warships are never completed."

"We should also try to keep pressure on the Dilgar lines." Hamato suggested. "They have been able to refuse battle in the past and withdraw, we're now at the point where they don't have anywhere to run to. I would suggest an increase in raids and probing attacks."

"My thoughts exactly." Denisov agreed. "But we must still take into account a number of factors, not least is the condition of the fleet."

Hamato nodded at that statement. "Most of our ships have been outside Earth Space for nearly six months now, they were not designed for these sort of long endurance missions. We've been able to keep them frequently supplied with stores and given the crews enough time in positive gravity stations or worlds to prevent any long term harm to them, but the mental strain of a campaign like this is beginning to take a toll."

"Our people are still as committed to this war as they were on day one." Ferguson stated. "More even, but we're going to need to give them more than a few days here and there or we'll see a lot of combat fatigue setting in. Not so bad for the army, but the Fleet is starting to feel the pinch."

"We also have mechanical issues." Hamato picked up. "Our ships and fighters are being worn out by this situation. Components break, systems wear out through over use, pipes and conduits need replacing. This is especially true of the Dreadnoughts which are incredible intensive to maintain."

"The Joint Chiefs have been considering this." Denisov agreed with them. "And while speed is a key concern, we need to regroup our forces and make sure we're fresh and ready for the next phase of the war, because it's going to be a nightmare."

"I would recommend we suspend fleet wide operations for a month, perhaps two." Hamato raised. "Cycle ships and crews back to Altair or Orion colonies for a thorough check and refit before we try to take any fortified Dilgar systems."

"I can't see any other way around it." Denisov agreed. "Once we start the push for Omelos we won't have time to rest our forces, if we don't do it now we'll be fighting at a major disadvantage."

"The actual process should be straight forward." Ferguson stated confidently. "But I agree, it is simply to move the fleet to our own space where we can have the engineers, dedicated yards and supplies on hand rather shift all that infrastructure out here."

"We'll do it carefully." Denisov nodded. "Send two fleets at a time, we'll leave the Eighth and Seventh until last, their ships are only a few months old and probably need the least work."

"That gives us four fleets n the field at any one time." Hamato calculated. "Enough to defend ourselves in case of attack, and maintain raids against the enemy."

"Along with the League ships which don't need that sort of maintenance, we can hold the worlds we've taken." Ferguson concurred. "But I'd be happier with all our ships in the field before trying to take the Dilgar core worlds."

"Which leads to our second concern." Denisov changed tack. "I'm bringing the Third fleet home first and giving them priority."

Ferguson laughed a little. "Well thank you sir, why do I suspect this is more than an act of Charity?"

"You'd be right." Denisov smiled. "I have a job for you."

He zoomed in on an area of the map displayed on the screen.

"We finally managed to make contact with the Drazi earlier this week, I can tell you it wasn't easy, those Dilgar jamming ships are better than we gave them credit for."

The announcement peaked interest among the League officers.

"What did you learn?" Valna quizzed with great interest.

"I spoke in person to a commander called Stro'kath, does the name ring any bells?"

"I've heard of him." Admiral Broma confirmed. "But only by reputation. He's an old soldier, totally dedicated to warfare and considered a modernist. If he's told you the situation his assessment will be accurate, none of that bombastic patriotism most Drazi have."

"Good, because his briefing was very detailed." Denisov confirmed. "I'm glad I can take it as fact."

"If they had Stro'kath in command I can see why they lasted this long." Broma added. "He was probably the best General in the whole League before the war."

"The situation on the Drazi front hasn't changed in six months." Denisov shared the information he had learned from Stro'kath. "They made a big push last year and gained a lot of ground, but over extended themselves and left their gains open for a Dilgar counter attack, pushed them right back to their starting points with heavy losses."

"Operation Retributive Strike." Hamato recalled.

"They changed the plan half way through, delayed it, lost the initiative." Denisov stated. "Stro'kath was very clear on that, he accepted why the plan failed blaming meddling from his political superiors. He didn't sound happy."

"He was never popular with the government, too outspoken." Broma confirmed. "But the military love him, so it would be virtually impossible to simply shut him away forever."

"And a good thing too." Valna agreed. "With the demons rampaging across space they need a heroic leader. We all do."

"The Dilgar currently hold the three border worlds of Tithalis, Latig and Fendamir which basically secures Omelos from direct attack from Drazi space. The other worlds in the area, Hilak and Deskartalos are heavily contested with the Drazi holding Deskartalos for the most part, and the Dilgar owning Hilak."

"The balance of forces sounds fairly even." Hamato considered.

"There is a sort of balance." Denisov nodded. "The Dilgar have the better military force, they have the raw power to do a lot of damage, but they don't have the supplies or reinforcements to capitalise on a breakthrough."

"Because all their reserves are deployed here fighting us." Hamato reasoned. "Meaning the Drazi front is a holding action."

"Precisely, the Dilgar are basically just sat there exchanging shots with the still depleted Drazi Navy. It will probably stay like that for a while, however if the Dilgar figure out we can't launch our offensive for two months or so they might take the opportunity to deal the Drazi a crippling blow."

"Knock them out of the war in one massive strike?" Valna asked.

"Exactly, with their reserves just two jumps from the Drazi front and no concerns about holding League space the Dilgar can shift literally thousands of ships between our front and the Drazi. They could hit them hard and redeploy back here to face us before we can react."

"And with the Drazi gone they can concentrate all their ships against us, including the veteran fleets of the Drazi front."

"According to intelligence the ships holding the Drazi front are the best in the Imperium." Denisov explained. "Arguably better than Jha'dur's original force."

"If memory serves Warmaster Dar'sen commands the local Strike Fleet." Hamato stated.

"Correct, and oddly enough Stro'kath had nothing but respect for the man." Denisov answered. "Apparently Dar'sen hasn't committed any atrocities, his forces fight hard but fair and he has displayed inventive but sound strategies. Model Warmaster."

"It's hard to gain the respect of a Drazi." Broma said with a hint of awe. "Especially one as hard set as Stro'kath."

"He literally wrote the book on how a fleet should fight." Denisov continued. "I had the EIA grab a copy from the Dilgar Database, very sound strategy."

"It is required reading for all Earth Force Captains." Hamato confirmed. "Know your enemy."

"While Gar'shan was structuring the population for this war, and Jha'dur was developing new weapons Sar'sen was reorganising the Navy for the invasion. He is the Father of the Dilgar fleet." The Chief of Staff considered. "He's probably the best leader they have."

"Better than Deathwalker?" Valna asked?

"Jha'dur is inventive, passionate and daring." Hamato said in response. "She takes risks, uses tactics nobody else would dare. In the past it has given her some extraordinary victories but she relied on her elite Strike Fleets to pull it off. Those fleets are gone now she can't draw on their skill to turn battles. Should be interesting to see what she does next."

"Dar'sen never had that problem, according to Stro'kath his strategies left little to chance. One has to wonder what the war would have been like if he had been in command of the forces facing us and not Jha'dur."

"If he can bring his forces to meet us it's going to make this war a lot bloodier than it has to be." Ferguson guessed.

"Exactly what I was thinking." Denisov smiled. "So we're going to make sure the Drazi front stays active, and you get to be the one who guarantees it."

Ferguson frowned. "Me?"

"It has been agreed that Earth Force will deploy your fleet to Drazi space to bolster the defences and make sure the Dilgar can't exploit the pause in operations." Denisov stated. "Once your ships are fitted out you'll proceed with all speed to Hilak, drive the Dilgar out of the system and link up with Warleader Stro'kath."

"Drazi Space." Ferguson repeated. ""I have no great problem with that General, but how do we get there? We'd either have to go straight through the Dilgar front line, which I am not thrilled about, or take the long route around the back of Centauri space. I doubt we could make it without half our ships falling apart, it's a couple of months at least to cover that amount of space."

"Intelligence has planned another route, little more direct and less dangerous." Denisov informed. "I'll provide details just before you leave, it's a little sensitive."

Ferguson nodded, accepting the General's decision. "Understood sir."

"your initial objective is to try and secure the front line, stop this back and forth that has gone on recently." Denisov stated. "And of course to inflict losses on Dilgar forces in the area. The Drazi ships are great attackers, fast, nimble and able to punch hard. Problem s they are poor in defence and all too often the Dilgar have flanked them, drawn them into traps or found otherways to rob them of their advantages. What the Drazi really need is a group of heavy weight warships to follow up their attacks and act like an anchor protecting their rear quarter and taking the brunt of any Dilgar counter attacks."

"A job Third Fleet is well suited for." Ferguson agreed. "We provide the solid firepower, they provide the speed and rapid reactions."

"Almost a mirror of the force we've set up here." Hamato pointed out. "Different forces covering each others weak spots."

"And it's something we've had a lot of success with." Denisov confirmed. "The System works, and Stro'kath is eager to try it out on Warmaster Dar'sen."

"What about supplies?" Hamato raised. "Do we have a secure line available?"

"Consumables will be supplied by the Drazi." Denisov replied. "As for spare parts, that might be a problem. However if all goes well we aim to link up with the Drazi front within a month after renewing our offensive, at that point we can exchange ships without problem."

"How about politics?"

"Well that is something we'll have to work with." Denisov sighed. "At home the President and the Senate are fully behind this plan, and I am positive the public will be too. It's a far deployment, the furthest we've ever been, but it is to aid a friendly power and bring the war to a swifter conclusion. As for the Drazi, that is a more vague answer."

Broma nodded in agreement. "They are contrary and ruled by emotion, it's hard to predict how they will react. Some of them might see your help as an indication they aren't good enough to fight the Dilgar alone. That would be a big blow tot heir pride."

"I gave Stro'kath a break down of our actions so far." Denisov informed the group. "He seemed impressed, especially when he learned how we defeated the cream of the Dilgar Navy. He considers us true brothers in arms and honoured warriors, he is going to be very glad to have a veteran human fleet deployed with him."

"Understandable, we give him a lot of tactical options." Ferguson allowed.

"Additionally he is an old fashioned warrior." Hamato contributed. "It would be an honour for him to share battle with a group he considers to be worthy warriors, both allies and enemies."

"We just need to hope his influence is greater than any politicians who might try to send our ships home." Broma noted. "At this point I would say it probably is, Stro'kath sounds like he is firmly in command of the military which means he basically dictates policy for as long as the war goes on."

"We need to get our ships and the Drazi working together as one unit." Denisov observed logically. "Get them to fight in perfect unison just like we've done here, use initiative and common sense to support each other without rigid orders. I believe Stro'kat knows this, it just takes time."

"And if this does happen, if we create a united fleet in Drazi space, then what?" Ferguson asked. "Do we go on the offensive?"

The General nodded. "Damn Straight you do. If you have an opportunity to reach Omelos first you need to take it at once."

Denisov regarded the map once more. "The Dilgar are fighting on two fronts, and we must exploit this, we have to time our operations to put the maximum pressure on their navy."

"So we plan a joint attack across the Drazi border, suck away forces from the main League front." Hamato worked through. "Which still leaves us with one question, where do we attack?"

"That has a simple answer, we haven't decided yet." Denisov replied simply. "It will be either Tirrith or Balos, that much is certain. Both give us a more or less clear run at Omelos, both are major industrial hubs, both are worlds the Dilgar can't afford to lose. Either one is an option."

"It seems we will have some time to decide." Hamato declared. "I'll order recon missions to both planets, decide which seems more suitable for attack."

"Also I see you have some ships fresh out of repair, veteran crews. They won't need to refit so they can form the core of raiding expeditions." Denisov stated. "Including the Nemesis, I hear Joe still has that damn skirt."

"A talisman of his gods." Valna stated, the Markab war leader was a practical man but like all his race had a deep seated faith in the divine. "He is truly a chosen warrior, a hero of heaven."

"Better not mention that." Ferguson grinned. "Any more ego boosing and his head will get too big to fit through the airlocks!"

There was a slight round of laughter.

Denisov folded his hands. "A great man once described the situation we are in now. He said that this is not the beginning, nor is it the end, or even the beginning of the end. But it is the end of the beginning."

The group agreed quietly.

"What we have done these last few months has been amazing, we learned a whole new aspect of war, liberated tens of billions of people and created the most dynamic and powerful military alliance this galaxy has ever seen. Now we have to use it, put it to the ultimate test and defeat the Dilgar once and for all. This Gentlemen is the first stage of Operation Downfall, the final stage will take us into orbit of Omelos itself."

The General read the expressions of the group, a mix of enthusiasm and appreciation for the hard times ahead.

"My aim is to win this war and be home for Christmas. Now, where do we stand in terms of current capabilities?"

He settled down and listened to the commanders as they provided details, his eyes often drifting to the map. Somewhere out there his Dilgar equivalent was doing the exact same thing, planning the next stage of this war. Both had a vision of how the war would end and only one vision would come to pass. It was not going to be Jha'dur's, no matter the cost the Dilgar had to be beaten utterly. The Galaxy would not survive another war like this.

Brakir

"Ladies and Gentlemen, to absent friends."

The assembled group raised their glasses solemnly.

"Absent friends."

The hotel bar hung silent for a few long moments as the group lowered their eyes in quiet reflection, remembering and giving silent thanks for their survival, and regret for those who were not so lucky.

Vic Chapel led the vigil, finishing a drink in memory of his lost friend.

"And a restful sleep."

They sat down and looked awkwardly to one another. The crew of the Space Race, Jenny, Francis and Heather had all joined Chapel to pay their respects to Steve Jackson, killed in battle fulfilling his duties as body guard to Francis.

"I just heard the Belt Alliance will be towing the Temeraire back to Altair for repairs." Paul mentioned. "Manny and his crew will stay with her."

"She was a tough ship, I'm sure she'll be back in action in a few months." Jenny said emptily.

"Good thing about those ships, they are modular. Just swap out the damaged parts." Jors added. "Get her back in the field in no time."

They sat in silence for another few moments.

"And the Shannon, she'll be back soon." Paul put in.

"But not the Dilgar ship." Jenny remarked. "They'll be lucky if they find enough of it to fill a single pod."

"Well it wasn't all bad news." Francis said. "I did get that download from the Sekhmet computer."

"Yeah, our people were eager to get their hands on that." Heather noted. "It isn't the same as having the kit in front of them, but it's a start. It puts us on the right track."

"And it removes a dangerous enemy ship from space. And a dangerous Captain at the same time." Jenny said. "We didn't achieve the mission, but we didn't lose either. A victory, but at a high price."

"Phyrric." Francis said. "We should have just nuked him."

"Yeah." Paul nodded. "Somebody got greedy."

"And people died for it." Jors scoffed. "Nothing changes."

"It's done now." Chapel said with finality. "And the people out there didn't die for greed, they died fighting for Earth, that's what we remember."

The older Agent called in another round of drinks, gradually the bar was filling with a mix of aliens and off duty human military officers. The party had found themselves a set of tables in a corner and were keeping largely to themselves.

"Won't be long before more are called." Chapel continued. "You can taste it in the air, like electricity, all moving together. What comes next is going to be something like we'll never see again."

"I bloody well hope not." Paul agreed. "One war like this is enough for anyone."

"I hope it drives some sense into people, makes them see what they have to lose and what they fight for." Heather said softly.

"Never going to happen." Chapel replied. "Someone will always want to take something off the other guy, and force is the easiest way to do that."

"Unless you're in the EIA." Jenny winked. "Then we have a whole range of sneaky tricks to ruin peoples days."

"Well that's the truth." Chapel agreed. "Sometimes I miss the old days, then again maybe not."

Francis drank a bit more, he wasn't a big alcohol fan but this was an exception. "What were you like in the old days?"

"Francis." Jenny subtly shook her head. "Not the time."

"No, no it's alright." Chapel said. "It's a good question, and we are here to remember."

Jenny cautiously sipped her drink. "If that's what you want Vic."

"Might help, I mean we have to trust each other in the job we do, can't do that if you don't know the truth about who I am, what mistakes I've made."

Francis felt a little like he'd bitten off more than he could chew, but Chapel was getting into a flow now, so he just settled and listened with mild apprehension.

"The basics you already know." Chapel began. "I'm from New York, the rough side. And yeah, I heard about all that equal opportunities eliminate poverty crap. Come down to my old Neighbourhood and explain that to the guys sleeping on street corners and the drug addicts who'll kill you for five credits. You grew up fast, and you learned to punch hard."

"We went through there on our little Dilgar mission last year." Jenny recalled. "Hasn't changed a bit."

"You got out of there one of two ways, either in the back of a police truck or the side seat of an army bus. I went with option two. Guess I had a little self respect." Chapel shrugged. "The army was easy, I didn't fancy trying to be a pilot, I knew what I was good at and so did the instructors. They sent me to Ranger School."

"Was it still Gunny Hurley back then?" Francis asked.

"What, in the Stone age?" Chapel laughed. "Nah, it was guy called Silewski. He was like a die cast Ranger, as if they'd just swept up all the pieces of hard asses and welded them into a single armour plated bastard. Our Gunny was his best student, but still just a student. Silewski was something else."

He downed another shot of liquor.

"So they told me I had a lot of pent up rage, and that I should release it productively."

"How?" Francis asked.

"By killing a whole bunch of people."

The young man blinked. "Well…cool?"

"And that was when I met Steve, we went through hell and high water in that place. Never broke us, in fact the harder they pushed the more I laughed it off. I liked the challenge, relished the struggle. After a while even the Rangers got too soft for me."

"Wait," Paul raised a hand. "The Rangers were too easy?"

"Yeah." Chapel nodded. "So they sent me to Proxima IV."

Paul let out a long whistle. "Jurassic Planet."

"What?" Heather asked. "I've heard of Proxima III, what's Proxima IV?"

"You ever see that movie Godzilla? They remade it for the millionth time a few years ago." Chapel asked.

"That was about twenty years ago Vic." Jenny smiled.

He shrugged. "Time flies."

"I know which one you mean." Francis spoke. "That Centauri ship crashes on an island and spills some sort of genetic chemical that makes the wildlife into monsters."

"Oh yeah!" Heather recalled. "Then it goes and smashes Tokyo, this big lizard thing."

"Apart from being a dumb film." Vic shook his head. "I mean a rail gun round from orbit would have punched the lizards ticket, apart from that, Monster Island? That's Proxima IV."

"A Death World." Paul added. "Pilots stay well clear of it, you crash on there you're dead in five minutes."

"They've got things on that planet that would chill your blood." Jenny winced. "Giant insects, flesh melting slugs, predators that make Dinosaurs look weak and feeble. Probably the worst place you can imagine."

"There are only two places on the planet." Vic continued. "A science station, and the training barracks for Earth Force Special Forces."

"Sounds pretty dangerous to train there?" Heather considered.

"Well we're behind solid metal walls, like a colony dome." Chapel answered. "We don't go out much, mostly it's just to discourage visitors."

"Oh, okay."

"When I left I was as bad as they come, Special Assault Service. They deployed me back into the field, and we spent the next few years operating with Rangers. I met back up with Steve and they were good days. Also where I met my wife."

Francis recalled Chapel had mentioned he was divorced, politeness dictated he had not pressed the issue but he had always wondered what had happened.

"She was waitressing in a tacky bar on Mars when the place got held up." The Agent began. "Unluckiest criminal in the Alliance, trying to stick up a bar full of Rangers and Special Forces, he was just happy to have enough bones intact to walk to the Police truck." Chapel smiled at the memory. "But this waitress, well we got talking and just hit it off."

"Sounds like a movie." Heather smiled.

"Yeah, maybe it was." Chapel nodded. "I had to go do a few jobs soon after, but when I got back she was still waiting for me, that sealed it."

"I didn't have you down as a romantic." Heather kept on beaming. "That is a great story."

"We married fast, got a decent house on the base and times were good, we were young, maybe too young, but it was love. Even after what came later, I didn't regret it. We were happy, and then got happier."

"Let me guess, a kid." Heather wondered. "perfect."

"So we had a daughter." Chapel said, a small light glowing in his eye, a hint of joy in the usually unexpressive face of the Agent. Chapel projected whatever emotion he wanted to, not what he really felt. Usually he regarded the world with wry amusement, sometimes with fury. This little slip of emotion was subtle, but Francis was quick enough to pick up on it.

"Congratulations." He offered, many years too late.

"Thanks, we called her Isabel, great kid, took after her mom in looks, which was lucky." He laughed a little. "Full of energy, inquisitive, you know the way kids are. Real trouble maker, just like her dad."

"But you were still in the Army, right?" Heather asked.

"Yeah, but I requested a transfer back to the Rangers, an easy assignment." Chapel said.

"Rangers, easy?" Jenny laughed. "I love the world according to Vic Chapel, can I move in?"

"Easier." He chuckled a little. "You get a kid on the scene, things change. My days in the SAS made me, but it's a job for a single man. So I was back in the unit with Steve, both Sergeants by then. Good days."

"Is that when you were approached by the EIA?" Francis asked.

"Well not exactly." Chapel hummed. "I left the Rangers, I didn't want to because that was my job, like my purpose. But circumstances got out of control."

"What circumstances?"

"Psi corps." Chapel answered, and just saying that name seemed to rigger a glower in the man.

"We were living on Earth, just outside where the Second Ranger Regiment was based." He kept on telling the story. "It was time for Isabel to join the local school so we took her in, she sat he exams, aced all the tests including the last one. The test for telepathy."

The group went very quiet, drinks held frozen in hands as the fact settled in.

"So we had two choices, either we give our girl up to the Psi Corps, or we let some fascist in jack boots come round every week and pump her full of drugs, watch her fade into a zombie before our eyes." Chapel related coldly. "We took option three. We ran."

He took a drink to help the words to flow, the memories were hard enough to think, let alone speak.

"I went AWOL from the Rangers, Steve had been injured before then but it was still my home. Should have been one of the hardest choices in my life, the Rangers defined me, it's what I was. I turned my back on it in a heartbeat. It came down to choosing my daughter or my old life and all I had ever known. It was no contest."

The group listened intently.

"We booked a passage bold as day to Mars, just walked onto the ship that night and left. We took whatever we could carry, a lot of cash, and each other. By the time we got to Mars word was out, the police were out in force looking for us, civilians and military. It wasn't very impressive. We managed to find a guy who didn't ask questions and made it to Beta Durani."

"Rough place to hide." Paul considered.

"Back then almost the whole planet was run by mining and shipping unions." Chapel said. "And the unions were run by the Mafia. It was a Mob planet, gambling, smuggling, everything you can think off went through there. Some guys were making a fortune running those rackets, but it didn't matter." Chapel shook his head. "We just wanted out, a ship into League space before the law caught up with us."

"We hid there for a week until I met the right guy, one of the lieutenants of a small time Mafia boss running a smuggling business. Cost me a lot of money, but I got us a ticket to Brakir. As you can guess, we didn't get that far."

"But, but that might be good luck!" Heather offered enthusiastically. "I mean look what happened to this place."

"Yeah, there is that." Chapel nodded. "Didn't feel so hot at the time."

"What happened?" Paul asked with genuine concern.

"Someone tipped off Psi Corps, they had a reward out on us, and they sent some Blood hounds to bring us in. Now an average Blood hound is a fairly mid level telepath trained to be intuitive. They want to be Psi Cops but just ain't good enough. That makes them resentful, cranky, bad tempered even. And I wasn't in a good mood either, so when we met up, well, let's just say there was a little disagreement."

"Vic put four of them in hospital." Jenny informed plainly. "One of them never walked again."

"Yeah." Vic smiled sadistically. "Boo hoo."

"Guess that's what happens when wannabe cops fight Special Forces." Paul shrugged.

"Thing was, they sent six people to try and take my daughter." Chapel grunted. "The last ones put the whammy on me, froze me solid like a statue, then his buddy put a bullet through my chest when I couldn't move. That guy was a real Psi cop, not some groupie. I'll never, never forget his face. Oh, and his buddy was Bester."

"That creep?" Francis exclaimed. "He didn't seem that bad."

"He's one of the worst." Jenny snarled.

"He froze me, and his boss shot me." Chapel said coldly. "Anyone else, that would be attempted murder. But the Psi corps walked away with it."

He looked down for a while before gathering the energy to continue.

"I woke up in hospital, cuffed to the bed with a couple of armed Marines watching me. Not something I ever thought I'd experience of course. When they let my wife in she told me the rest, that the two teeps had taken my girl and left me for dead, I was lucky the police found me at that moment and brought me in otherwise I'd have bled to death there and then."

He laughed slightly.

"First rule of Special Operations, if you shoot someone, make sure they are actually dead because you don't want them standing up again."

"Especially if the guy is like Vic." Jenny added.

That generated a small round of laughter.

"So there I was, arrested, charged with going AWOL, fleeing Psi Corps, and flattening four guys. Plus, worse than that, much worse, my girl had been shipped off to somewhere on Mars and my wife decided that was the best time for a Divorce. Not the best week of my life all things considered."

"I bet." Francis readily agreed.

"That was when I first met Karl Durban, and that was when he offered me a job infiltrating the Beta Durani Mafia."

"And you took it."

"That or jail." Chapel shrugged. "And he gave me a chance to get even with whoever tipped off the Psi Corps to our escape plans."

"Did you find him?" Heather asked.

"I found him." Chapel nodded. "That's all I'm gonna say, use your imaginations. I did."

"Is that when you infiltrated the Regio family then?" Heather asked. "Those Mafia kingpins?"

"Yeah, that was my job." Chapel nodded. "They were getting ready to sell military secrets to the Narn, the EIA wasn't about to let that happen. Bringing down the biggest Mafia family in history was like an added bonus."

"Do they know it was you?" Paul wondered.

"I don't think so, but after that I couldn't go undercover again." The Agent answered. "Usually we just get one shot, then for safety we're given another job in the Agency. Jenny had her turn, I had mine, and the Director did his stint in Centauri space."

"They put you in counter espionage." Francis figured out. "And Jenny is, what department is it your in actually?"

"Field Liaison." She said back. "Yes it's a real job."

"And vital too." Paul supported.

"Vic," Heather asked quietly. "Did you ever see your girl again?"

He shook his head. "Psi Corps took her somewhere secure, probably because they knew I'd tear through anywhere to get her back, even all these years later." He sighed. "I have no idea what she looks like, even if she knows who I am anymore. The things they can do to people." He broke off, not wanting to imagine more.

"You know, if we can help at all…" Paul offered.

"Thanks." Chapel nodded. "I know Jenny and the Director are also with me, despite the consequences. But it was important you all knew this."

"Doesn't make you any less Vic." Francis said. "You still have my respect, and a good dose of fear."

"Well that's healthy." Chapel grimaced. "But this is so you know I'm not perfect, I've got a past and it can be used against me. After what happened last year, when Leung, a guy at my rank went traitor, you gotta know where we all stand."

"I don't see how this changes anything? Makes you any different in your job, it was years ago."

"Normally it wouldn't." Chapel agreed. "Against the Dilgar it just makes me angrier than a normal guy. I was never really calm or subtle, which is why I was surprised at getting a job in the EIA, but guess that worked out."

"Unless you were in the Mafia." Jenny pointed out.

"Yeah, that." Chapel agreed.

"Or Dilgar."

"The point," Chapel replied quickly. "Is that right now it doesn't mean much, but you all know the Psi Corps is starting to meddle in politics."

Toby raised his hand. "I didn't know."

"Well now you do." Chapel grinned. "And the Director is very firm about stopping that from going further, he's keeping a very close eye on the teeps and moving to stop them grabbing more power."

"How?" Toby asked.

"He's a spymaster, even I don't know what he plans." Chapel said honestly. "Just that he's doing something and one day the EIA might go head to head with Psi Corps."

"That sounds ugly." Paul shuddered. "Trying to beat telepaths?"

"The Director has a plan, one he seems confident about." Chapel replied. "But if we did try to take them on, they've got leverage on me, I'm compromised."

"What does that mean?" Paul asked.

"It means I'll have to step down." Chapel answered. "And if I don't, Jenny will know what to do to make sure I don't turn traitor."

"You're never going to turn traitor Vic, that isn't you." She dismissed.

"I went AWOL for my daughter. Assume nothing, didn't I teach you that?"

"I know exactly what I'll do Vic if that ever happens." Jenny spoke seriously. "I'll break into the Psi Corps compound, get Francis to hack their data base, find Isabel and rescue her so they've got nothing on you. And that is all Vic, this isn't like Leung, it won't end the same."

The Senior agent smiled widely. "I like a girl with a plan."

"I like this girl with a plan." Paul laughed in return. "Count me in."

"And me." Francis confirmed. "We stand together."

Chapel seemed genuinely touched. "Well alright then. So a toast to history." He raised his glass. "And making the future worthy of the past."

They raised their glasses once again.

"To friendship." Jenny seconded. "And making something no one can break."

Omelos

Dilgar intelligence command had resorted to a type of lottery, an act of random chance among their members where the loser would have the duty of giving Warmaster Jha'dur the report. Captain Sa'goth was considered too valuable to send on this errand, but he would not order any one of his subordinates to do the job, and asking for volunteers would be pointless.

They had written their names on scraps of paper, put them in a cup, and then Sa'goth had picked one. For fairness he put his own name in there, unwilling to let his men face this danger when he dare not, and so each of the group had an equal chance of being picked. In the end it was an elderly technician called Bre'har who's name was drawn. The look in his eyes, the cold falling curtain of blankness that stole the light from his gaze was telegraphed for the whole department to see. It was the look of a man who could time to the minute how long he was going to live. If he was lucky.

The errand had been organised like a suicide mission, the same process as picking a Thorun pilot to run past Starfuries or which Pentacan would go head to head with a human Dreadnought group. Bre'har took his assignment with the stoicism of a soldier ordered to charge a machine gun nest or plant a hand bomb on the front of a tank.

He walked from the end of the room to the door, his colleagues lined on either side in an unconscious guard of honour, sharing their pity for the man and relief it had not been them. He held his head straight, his face emotionless as slowly he walked the line in quiet desperation, wanting to escape but knowing it was futile. He had known that as a soldier of the Imperium a violent death would probably be his fate, but he had not expected this.

With the hope and joy of a man with a gun to his head he made it to the door where Sa'goth stood. The officer handed over the piece of paper, a few lines written upon it, then stepped back and saluted Bre'har. In that moment the whole room snapped to attention, a sombre and solemn farewell. No one expected to see Bre'har again, and the technician himself knew it.

With his head hung low he took the report and prepared himself for the fury of a Warmaster.

As far as Jha'dur was concerned one of the best things about Omelos was food. Certainly she ate well on campaign, she had her own personal Chef and a wide selection of delicacies. Because her command vessel had gravity she could afford to eat cooked food as normal and not endure the food pack rations the crew of lesser ships or the human vessels had to subsist on. Part of her thought humans fought so hard so they could go home sooner and get a meal that didn't require a straw to eat.

But on Omelos, on Omelos the produce was fresh and tasted so much better. The Chefs that served the Council were among the best there war, and Jha'dur had upgraded her own retinue to include the chief Chef of the Imperial court. The old Emperor certainly wouldn't need feeding anymore, and the new Emperor had tubes for that sort of thing.

With the death of the old Emperor and most of the nobility, who were simply dead wood as far as Jha'dur cared and guilty of driving her mother to suicide, the crown had gone to Len'char. It turned out some ancestor of his had been an illegitimate offspring of a particularly debauched Emperor giving him some Royal blood. Emperor Len'char. The concept still gave her great amusement, so much so she had even told him of it during their last meeting. He had gotten his wish, he was the head of the Imperium.

She had congratulated him on his promotion as his blood was replaced by a serum of her own concoction, a fluid that sustained his body but burned like fire. She found the contradiction ironic, Len'char had not seen the funny side.

"I bow to thee, my Emperor." She had smiled widely, bowing to the pathetic figure restrained on the table. "May your reign be as illustrious as your predecessor. I sincerely wish you long life, very long life, in my care."

He had not replied, his jaw locked in a constant grimace. It did not matter. While his body lay on the table his four limbs were in different parts of the room, still attached by yards of synthetic arteries and nerves Jha'dur was developing for wounded soldiers. Though his hand was thirty feet from his body Len'char's heart still fed it and his nervous system still cried out when Jha'dur dropped the appendage in boiling oil or stabbed it with a blunt scalpel.

Much to her disappointment, but not surprise, torturing Len'char was not as amusing as it should be. She laughed when he had cried like a baby, felt a happy glow when he had shrieked for three hours straight, she even went into a giggling fit when Len'chars internal organs had accidentally slopped onto the floor. She barely composed herself in time to put them back and prevent him expiring on her.

And yet even amid this she wasn't fulfilled, it didn't replace the cold empty that dominated her feelings now, it didn't replace anything she had lost, it was just a distraction. Everything was just a distraction, even the war.

She pushed around the food on her plate, sat alone at her table in the opulent quarters she had assumed control of. A clock made its slow way around the hours of the day while the video screen on her left showed the human ISN channel, currently speaking on some mundane article about endangered wildlife and excessive energy consumption. Nothing on the war, it seemed the pace of the allied advance was slowing which suited Jha'dur just fine. It meant her hour was drawing closer.

With a sigh of defeat she dropped her fork with a clink on the plate and abandoned the half eaten meal, falling back in her dining chair. She had not exhibited much of an appetite lately and what once brought her joy was now just cold ashes. She was restless, confined, aching to get out and do something. But today was not the right time, she had to exercise patience, something she was increasingly lacking in.

At one time nothing could stop her. There was no waiting, no biding of time, just the assault, the conquest, the consolidation, the victims. The war had been a sequence, one event following the other following the other. No pause, no respite, just the relentless march on inevitability and the Imperium had been ascendant. For those short, glorious months the Dilgar had dominated everything. She missed the feeling, she wanted it back.

Yet it would never be what it was, even in victory too much had changed, too much was lost or different. She as a being had become something else and increasingly she realised there was no going back. The pieces of her old life were too finely smashed to be picked up again, it was lost in the necessity of the war, one more sacrifice never to return.

She did not curse or cry, she did not cling to bitter resentment or grief. Many others had lost much more and still fought on, so would she. She was a role model, a figure from whom the whole Imperium took inspiration and she could not flag or falter. She was perhaps a victim of her own notoriety, caught in the inescapable vision of the public watching her every flicker of emotion. So she buried it, let go and lived mechanically in public, and wistfully in private.

Her chamber door chimed, an innocuous chirp informing her of a visitor. None was scheduled, which meant it was probably some matter of urgency. In truth she hungered for a distraction.

"Come through." She announced, confident her Spectres would not let an assassin get anywhere near this close.

The door revealed a grey haired and wrinkled male in uniform, she dimly recalled him as one of Sa'goth's analysts from the Intelligence Department.

"Approach."

The man did as instructed, coming to a halt and standing stiffly beside her. She noted the name plate read 'Bre'har' but the title itself did not strike her as remarkable. He held a sheet of paper in his hand, not even a data pad but actual paper. Thatt riggered a mild wave of anxiety.

"State your report technician."

"Warmaster I… I have to report…" He took a deep breath and just got on with it. "The Battle Cruiser Vanquisher has been destroyed."

She didn't even blink.

"What confirmation do you have?"

"The Vanquisher is now a week overdue, and has not communicated." Bre'har said with growing coldness inside.

"There could be more reasons than destruction for that."

"And we intercepted a civilian message requesting Belt Alliance Salvage ships deployed to the last known area of operations."

"Hardly confirmation officer."

"Given the situation Warmaster, we believe the mission has failed, and our raiding force is destroyed."

Jha'dur nodded. "Your report is acknowledged."

Bre'har stood still, waiting.

She raised her gaze. "Anything else?"

"No Warmaster."

"Then you are dismissed, return to your duties."

He paused a second longer, Warmasters in general did not take bad news well, and while in the past Jha'dur was often the easiest to report to in light of recent decisions she had made people had come to fear her like never before. This news, this severing of her last emotional attachment to another living being was expected to drive into an unholy rage. Instead she simply resumed her meal as if nothing had happened.

Bre'har did not push the issue, saluting and then leaving as fast as he could without appearing terrified, which of course he still was.

"One more thing." She said, spearing a morsel with her fork. "Captain Sa'goth will inform me when the Vanquisher makes contact at once."

He wondered if she had heard his report or understood its logic, he almost asked her until the part of his brain that was not stupid told him to shut up and run while he still could.

"As you wish Warmaster."

He left, breathing a massive sigh of relief, then made his way hastily back to the Intelligence Department before his colleagues auctioned his possessions.

Jha'dur returned to eating, pausing to increase the volume on ISN as the reporter spoke of a slight division in the human Senate. It seemed a few Senators were interested in forwarding a peace treaty, believing the war all but won. She smiled a little, the first signs of weariness were showing among humans. Tiny suggestions at first, hairline stress fractures, but it was still a weakness that could be exploited given time and violence.

She washed own another bite with some quality wine, and paid no attention to the robes that swept past her, betraying no surprise or concern at the apparent ease the Drakh circumvented her security. Presumably if they were the originators of the stealth suits her men wore they would know ways around them and possess far superior suits of their own.

"I find your reaction, curious." Salasine considered his words, and his new associate.

"Tell me," Jha'dur spoke in turn. "Do the Drakh eat?"

The question was not expected. "Do we eat?" rasped the creature.

"Simple enough question."

"We take nourishment." Salasine revealed. "Sustenance. But none of this ceremony."

Jha'dur laughed. "These ceremonies, traditions, they are the earliest core of any community. Finding and sharing food, it is the most fundamental of needs. At the heart that is what all civilizations were founded upon, even yours and these so called Masters you keep praising."

"They have higher priorities."

"What can be more important than survival?" Jha'dur asked straightly. "It drives the races of this galaxy like nothing else. It is said we are all twenty hours away from savagery, that if we are deprived of out comfort and technology that anyone would lose their civility when survival is at stake."

She ate a little more.

"Civilization is an imposition, something pressed upon us for the safety of the weak. Our natural state is not courteous, it is vicious. We are all predators, the most lethal there has ever been, and we Dilgar appreciate that. We use it, we understand what we are and do not recoil in horror. Predator and Prey, you can be one or the other and that is all."

"The Dilgar make good Predators." Salasine agreed. "But there is a third option, the hunter."

Jha'dur glared at him.

"A hunter has the instinct of the predator, but not it's savagery. Can you guess who I am talking about?"

"What happens when a hunter meets a Predator?" She asked.

"The hunter wins, he has a gun."

"And what if he faces five predators, and has only four bullets? Who wins then?"

Salasine might have smiled. "The hunter is devoured."

"All I have to do is wait for them to run out of bullets, then we shall see what survival does to a race's will to fight."

"There is a lot to be said for savagery." Salasine nodded awkwardly, his hard flesh not really suited for expressing. "For the release of chaos."

"Chaos I don't enjoy." Jha'dur shook her head. "Control wins wars."

"A great warrior surrenders to the passion of war."

"And a good soldiers stays cool and kills the mad warrior from half a mile away. I've seen it first hand, try fighting Drazi."

"So I suppose the secret would be organised Chaos." Salasine considered. "Creating the passions of war, the need for survival, but in a controlled environment to see what happens, to see who survives?"

"I already tried that out once or twice, isolated communities, let them tear each other apart. I was hoping Brakir would test that on a planetary scale, pity it was liberated too early."

"I noticed, and the Drakh applaud your methods."

She looked up at the grim alien. "Are you nearing a point?"

"My point, is a question." Salasine stated. "Order or Chaos?"

"Order or Chaos what?"

"Which do you choose, which do you prefer, which do you enjoy?"

"That is an easy question. Neither."

"Order and Chaos are the two faces of the universe."

"No, they are tools. Means to an end, no more, no less."

"They define all life!" Salasine seemed to be growing irritated.

"The only thing that defines life is actually living." Answered Jha'dur. "Surviving."

"And survival is an outcome of Chaos."

"No, not always."

"Chaos is the way of the universe!"

"Then why does so much of nature seek order?"

She let the question hang, rather intrigued by the conversation. Salasine hadn't spoken this much since he had turned up a month earlier, this was probably their only real conversation and every word gave Jha'dur more of an insight into the way the alien thought, and exposed a potential weakness.

"Chaos is better than order." Salasine said curtly.

"Well, it is certainly easier. Pulling things apart is much simply than building them up."

"And war is easier than peace."

"Unless you are at the pointy end of the bullet." Jha'dur shrugged. "Makes no difference, you don't pick one or the other. They are not mutually exclusive, they can't be."

"To destroy is to please the powers of the universe, it is their will." Salasine said simply.

"You sound like a Markab, I obey no will but my own." Jha'dur dismissed. "It is a cycle, order follows chaos, chaos destroys order, order over comes chaos. I'm surprised you never noticed that before."

"In the end, only one will endure."

"I doubt that a lot." Jha'dur shook her head. "They need each other. Without the opposite viewpoint they are redundant, useless, worthless."

"You are the greatest destroyer of them all Deathwalker." Salasine pointed out. "You are a champion of the way of chaos."

"I destroy only so I can create." She answered. "I burn the League to build a New Imperium for the Dilgar. A means to an end, by eliminating one or the other you cut down your options. So I choose both."

"You can't."

"I already have."

"My masters will hold you to one or the other."

"Then perhaps I should talk to your masters about making me do things I don't want." Jha'dur smiled icily. "Not something I appreciate Salasine, you know that."

The Drakh said no more on the subject, but Jha'dur could see indoctrination when it reared its head. His argument had been based on belief, on opinions rather than facts and he had grown angry when questioned. That was a weakness.

"I am here to deliver news." He said with a hiss. "Your report was true."

She sighed. "If that is all you have to say…"

"The Vanquisher was destroyed, no prisoners were taken."

She took another bite. "When Dal'shan returns, I'll remind of this talk."

"He's dead." Salasine remarked. "Your lover is never coming back."

With a bolt of fury Jha'dur jabbed her dinner knife into the table, sinking it a good inch into the wood. As quickly as the anger rose, it subsided and she pushed her dinner aside, bringing across a dessert to replace it.

"When he returns," She continued peacefully. "It will be proof of the Sekhmet design, waste of time it may be, but seems effective enough."

Salasine nodded. "It is a useful design."

"I'll probably take one for myself, my flagship still isn't repaired. Perhaps a flaying or two may speed things up." She considered the idea before shaking her head. "Probably not."

"You will need to face the truth someday." Salasine said simply. "You can't hide from it."

Jha'dur raised an eyebrow, then picked up a piece of fruit. "Kere fruit?"

She tossed it to him and he caught it easily, then crushed the soft piece of fruit in his scale encrusted hands. "Don't lie to yourself. Be who you are with no restraints."

"I hope you just didn't tell me what to do there?"

Salasine smiled a grimace. "Not at all, Warmaster."

He stepped away from the table and began to fade.

"The humans will be coming for you, soon you must act or lose."

"I have my plans Salasine, the Imperium will be ready."

"See that you are, we have invested much here. It would be a pity to lose a race of such clear potential."

He finally disappeared, the temperature in the room changing in a subtle indication that he had somehow left. Jha'dur still had no idea how he did that, some manner of phasing technology she guessed. That would make a nice addition to her resources.

"Arn'dal." She called.

A few seconds later the door opened letting the heavy set soldier enter. He halted formerly.

"Your will Warmaster?"

"Did you manage to install the sensors?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Results?"

"When the Drakh was in the room we picked up slight increases in a certain type of radiation."

"Enough to track him?"

"We believe so Warmaster." Arn'dal nodded. "Given the right frequency we could see through his cloak."

She chuckled slightly. "No more coming and going as you please Mister Drakh."

"We believe at least four more exist in the building Warmaster." Arn'dal stated. "It should be possible to track them all."

"They must have a sanctuary here." She stood and walked around the table. "Somewhere they sleep, or congregate, or whatever it is Drakh do. Underground perhaps, or a secret chamber. Enough of them exist."

She bent down where Salasine had crushed the fruit, its pulp laying on the ground. She took a plate from the table and scooped up the remnants.

"Our portable scanners can be tuned Warmaster." Arn'dal stated.

"Find them, but subtly Commander, use some guile. I don't want them aware of our knowledge."

"As you wish Warmaster."

She raised the plate up, looking at the crushed fruit. "I'll be in Lab Nine taking a look at some Drakh DNA." She grinned widely. "Lets see what these Drakh are really made of."

She didn't offer a second thought to the news of the Vanquisher. Dal'shan would be back soon, and she would be waiting to greet him. That was all she wanted, and she was not letting go.


	78. Chapter 78

77

EAS Charlemagne

Earth Force 6th Fleet

Earth/Narn Border

Commander Griffin entered the final set of statistics into the ship's log, and then satisfied made his report to the Admiral.

"All ships are present and accounted for sir, we're ready to commence jump."

Donald Ferguson gave a sharp nod, acknowledging the words but not really breaking out of his own thoughts. The fleet was holding station in the Eridani system, the most coreward part of the Alliance on the crux of territory where Earth, League and Narn space met. The Colony had seen its share of blood shed, from a half hearted Narn invasion to Dilgar raids which had the result of making Eridani a very small but very well armed corner of the Alliance.

Despite its position most of the EA supplies went through Altair with its more developed space ports and civilian infrastructure while Eridani had been mostly given over to housing and caring for the massive numbers of League refugees. Many of those had started going home, the vast numbers of Descari and Brakiri in particular returning with solemn relief to their battered but liberated home planets to rebuild.

The quiet had been replaced with bustling activity just a few hours before as Ferguson had arrived for a last minute consolidation before he began his journey to Drazi space, passing brazenly through the Narn Regime on the way. As far as risks went this one was pretty damn big. Sending five hundred first rate warships through an empire you had at best neutral and at worst strained relations with was not traditionally a wise move. Nobody could predict how the Narn would react, but Ferguson was pretty sure they weren't going to be showering them with flowers and cheers.

"What's our plan navigation?" He questioned.

"We're going to need to make two jumps into normal Narn space to calibrate the sensors." Griffin reported. "One as we cross the border and one as we cross out."

"We can't just stay in hyperspace all the way?"

"Sorry sir, but the Narn beacons work on a slightly different system to ours, if we don't calibrate we might end up losing the signal, and that wouldn't be great."

"I'll say." Ferguson sighed. "Very well, lay in our course and stand by."

"Ready to go sir." Griffin said back almost immediately.

There was no more putting it off now. "All ships, initiate jump, take us over the border."

The journey was quite short, just one jump over the Narn border before they had to return to normal space for a sensor reading. This initial jump didn't concern Ferguson too much, the EA border was only lightly patrolled with the bulk of the Narn fleet shadowing Dilgar and Drazi forces. Ultimately when the Sixth fleet made it up to the far Narn border they would end up passing through this major force, which would be the real test of nerve and bluff.

"We're ready Admiral." Commander Griffin stated with a hollowness in his voice. "In position to jump."

"Signal action stations, then jump." He wasn't taking any chances. "Form up tightly once we arrive and hold position, keep us well away from the colonies. We don't want to provoke them any more than we have to."

With a whine of power the jump engines discharged, boring their path through into real space and throwing the varied human ships into Narn territory, flashing through the energy funnels and returning to the bland normality of the universe.

"Full sweep, I want to know what is out there."

"Aye sir." Griffin linked the computers of the flagship through to the various scout cruisers and ELINT vessels dotted through the fleet, coordinating their powerful arrays to efficiently build a real time picture of the system.

"The Colony is over a quarter billion kilometres away, well out of range." The officer reported. "Fairly heavy satellite defences and a military station, but again far out of range."

"Warships?"

"We are reading a small group of frigates, five total, they are heading this way."

Ferguson allowed himself to feel a mild amount of relief, but not too much.

"How long do we need to stay here?"

"Thirty minutes sir, give or take."

The Admiral nodded slowly. "Let's hope the brass knows what they are doing."

The Narn ships approached at a steady speed, apparently fearlessly confronting the large and potent collection of alien warships but a careful analysis of their vectors showed they were moving with particular caution ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Appearances had to be maintained.

"Transmission coming through sir, it's in English."

"Ferguson nodded, he was a little surprised that the Narn spoke the human language of commerce but it made sense if you were deployed to the Earth border given the huge number of human civilian ships flying back and forth.

"Patch them through." He said, regulating his breath and putting on a wide smile. "Everyone look as unthreatening as you can on this gigantic over-armed battleship."

A rather disgruntled Narn face appeared on the screen, greeted by a bridge full of cheerful looking humans.

"I am G'Mak, perimeter defence force. You will at once leave this place!"

"We certainly will. I'm Admiral Ferguson by the way."

"If you stay here we will be forced to consider this a hostile act."

"I assure you, we are preparing to leave when our sensors calibrate, another twenty five minutes."

The Narn frowned. "And then you leave?"

"You have my word."

"So then, why did you come here in the first place simply to return from where you came?"

"Oh, we aren't going back to Altair, we're going to Hilak." Ferguson informed merrily. "In Drazi space."

The expression the Narn gave did not speak of joy or amusement.

"You plan to go deeper into Narn space?"

"Yeas, we do, but only in transit."

"And you imagine we will just… stand aside?"

"That's our hope, we mean you no harm." Inwardly he kicked himself for the cliché.

"So we'll just watch a large fleet of heavily armed ships fly through our space? I had heard humans were crazy but this is something else!"

"You have my promise as an officer we are not here to fight your people, we are moving to aid our allies in the war with the Dilgar."

G'Mak scoffed at the answer. "You want me to believe that?"

"It will be for your superiors to decide." Ferguson said. "They should already have received a message from our government, should make interesting reading."

"I have heard nothing on this matter." G'Mak said curtly. "I do not have the power to stop you, but I have the authority to tell you clearly to go home."

"We can't, I have my orders."

"Then be aware, we will mobilise to stop you, and you will be met with great force."

"We don't want a fight, but it is imperative we carry out our mission and break open the Drazi front."

"You must go home, or the next time you meet a Narn it will not be so civil."

"I'm sorry then G'Mak, this is how it will be."

"I am sorry too." The Narn replied. "Despite your looks we had thought you had more honour than the Centauri. Perhaps we were wrong."

"We'll be on our way soon, farewell G'Mak." Ferguson ended.

"Goodbye human, I pray you come to your senses before it is too late."

The channel ended and Fergusons smile vanished in an instance. "This intel had better be good enough." He grimaced. "If we can't bluff our way through this is going to get nasty. Really nasty."

League Space

Near Brakir

It was a good cup of coffee, even if it had to be drunk through a straw from a sealed steel cup. Jenny regarded the coffee machine in the galley of the Space Race, a top of the line device with a bewildering array of settings and programmes. It could make almost any beverage under the sun or stars, including the increasingly popular hot Jalla the Narn had introduced to the space faring cultures. Most of it however was entirely useless, what use was a frothy capucchino when in zero gravity you could only drink it from the ubiquitous straw? She had been tempted by an extremely fattening cream coffee, and had noticed the whiskey drenched Irish Coffee had a well worn button, but in the end settled for something simpler.

The machine was entirely unnecessary, yet with the wealth the crew had amassed they could afford such frivolities. It wasn't something she begrudged them, it was certainly money well earned, but she still found a spark of annoyance to see it wasted on something like the coffee machine. She'd have some words with Paul on that matter.

Although there were some far more important words she'd share first, and the simple thought of conversation with the man made her smile and forget the silly machine in the stupidly over appointed galley. It would be more in place on a luxury liner, not a bumped about fast freighter of the reputation this one bore. Indeed after their most recent mission it was inevitable that the Dilgar knew everything about them. Their days of covert missions were over.

The mission to bring down the Sekhmet had been a partial success, it was gone and its Captain dead but they had failed to capture any worthwhile technology and the cost to the attacking fleet had been rather steep with one prime warship lost and two more put in dock for at least three months, robbing Earth of their help during the projected major offensive.

To lure them in they had released the identity of the Space Race, it had been the bait and the Dilgar had obligingly tried to take a bite. The ship had survived intact and once more the crew had profited from the escapade, but now their identity was out it seemed their pay cheques from the EIA were destined to stop.

Not that Jors or Toby minded, they had made enough money to live very happily on for the rest of their days, but Paul was troubled. He too had no financial worries, before the war he had been struggling to keep the ship fuelled and loaded with spare parts but now that was never going to be an issue. Indeed he could buy three whole ships and still have money to crew and run them at a loss for a year if he wanted to. But it seemed that he was increasingly unsatisfied about the idea of returning to being a humble freight Captain.

He hadn't said much, but Jenny had her instincts on this sort of thing and could see the root of his uncertainty. He had done something beyond ordinary in this conflict, made a real difference and he had found some purpose in that. Paul had a direction now, something he hadn't really grasped before simply meandering through life trying to make ends meet. Now he was part of a bigger picture and he had done good, something that seemed to be slipping away.

"Still admiring the kitchen?"

She turned to see Paul entering the room, using the hand holds to halt in mid air with a wide smile, something she returned without thought.

"You got robbed." She replied cheerily. "I mean this coffee machine alone…"

She was silenced by a light kiss. "Enough about the Coffee machine."

"Aye, aye Captain." She replied softly.

"Did I mention how good it is to have you back on the ship?"

"About a hundred times." Jenny answered. "I'll tell you when you can stop."

They shared another kiss. "I'll tell you when you can stop that too."

He chuckled. "Actually we better get up top, we got a reply."

She pushed business to the front of her mind. "Balosians?"

"On their way." He confirmed. "Should be here in a couple of minutes."

"That's good news, the Balosians know the Dilgar deployments and supply routes in this region better than anyone, they've been studying them for years."

"And blowing them up pretty regular too." Paul agreed. "Good friends to have."

Stories of the Free Balosian Navy were quickly acquiring near legendary status among the allied powers. For more than two years they had waged their war, knowing the Dilgar occupied their home and inflicted such horrors as to defy belief. They had fought with no support, reinforcement or hope of destroying the Dilgar, a tiny thorn in the side of an armoured giant. At least that was until they met Earth, and in particular Paul Calendar.

Paul had been acting as advisor to a Belt Alliance fleet when it had found itself trapped at Brakir when the Dilgar attacked. The small force of humans had been given no choice but to fight and in so doing helped drive away the first attack. Impressed by the tenacity of the civilian grade ships a group of Balosians had agreed to use their jump engines to give the humans a save exit and way home, and in so doing had created a contact with humanity in the shape of Paul Calendar. When the Captain had strengthened his ties with the EIA he had repaid the favour the Balosians had shown and helped influence Earth into providing covert assistance and supplies to the by then badly battered and weary Balosian ships.

Re-equipped with Earth Force plasma cannons and in one case a whole squadron of Tiger Furies the Balosian fleet had seen a resurgence in its capabilities and spirit, with the Dilgar suffering as a consequence.

When Earth joined the war in earnest that help had increased greatly, with no need for secrecy the Balosian ships had been welcomed at military ship yards for full refits. They had even been given a handful of old cruisers to supplement their force, with many Balosian refugees sheltering in Alliance territory immediately volunteering to crew them.

It had been expected that the Balosians would follow the example of other League powers and put themselves under the unified command of Admiral Hamato where their ships would be very useful providing a fast hard hitting squadron of cruisers and light ships for the fleet. However, much to the annoyance of many in government the Balosians chose to continue fighting under their own command, and although firmly allied to Earth they would continue engaging in their own style.

There had been a lot of consternation in the senate with several senators demanding the return of the weapons and ships Earth Force had given them. The Vice President had quickly silenced them, Elizabeth Levy calmly pointing out the long history of independence and spirit the Balosians held and defended. She also pointed out how long they had survived without outside help, so they must have been doing something right all this time by themselves.

General Denisov had been quick to support her, pointing out that the Balosians were fulfilling a valuable strategic role by hitting Dilgar supply lines and had the ships and experience to do a much better job than any human or League squadron could match. He had said he would probably have used the Balosians in exactly the same role they were fulfilling now, and that Earth should continue supporting them regardless because they were excellent allies and deserved the understanding of the Senate.

So Earth Force had been happy to let them wage their war deep behind enemy lines as long as they could, sharing supplies and intelligence as they worked towards the common goal of victory.

Contact was usually through secure channels, the Balosians had been given a few human encoding machines allowing them to use the Gold Channels to keep in touch with their allies, but sometimes it was necessary to meet face to face for important discussions, and when that happened they usually sent Paul thanks to his history of trust with the Balosians.

Paul actually enjoyed this role of liaison, he had nothing but the greatest respect for Commander Kanos who was the senior officer in the Balosian fleet and would fight hard for them against Earth Dome if he imagined they were being used. If he couldn't run missions for the EIA anymore perhaps being a point of contact with the Balosians would be a worthwhile job for the future, something he could take pride in and still make a difference for the better.

"Nice timing." Jors greeted them as they arrived on the flight deck. "They just jumped out, it's the Seffensa."

"The flagship." Jenny observed gladly. "Good to see they take us seriously."

"Must be a tense time for them." Paul agreed. "We've got a few thousand ships just one jump from their homeworld, they have to know there's a good chance we'll go there next. I can't imagine what they are feeling."

"Me neither." Jenny agreed. "Been a long war for them."

"And a hard one." Paul nodded in turn.

"Signal Captain." Toby spoke up. "An invitation to join them."

"Acknowledge, tell them I am on my way with a guest."

No sooner had he finished then he was on his way. Jenny raised an eyebrow.

"Does this mean I'm the guest?"

"Well, I was going to say Maid but I doubt they'd get it."

With the accuracy her job demanded she screwed up a sheet of paper and threw it at him, a square hit on the back of the head.

"You haven't heard the last of this buddy, now get that shuttle warmed up."

The shuttle trip was brief and comfortable, the Race's latest auxiliary craft a big step up from her first cargo shuttle. The large Balosian ship grew in the forward windows, its intimidating black and grey decoration adding an air of mystery to the ship, and while the paint didn't really help in battle against advanced sensors it certainly inspired a certain fear and menace among the enemy.

Like most Balosian ships the Cruiser Seffensa had started life as a Centauri Medium Cruiser of the Centurion class, an old and familiar stalwart of the old glorious Republic. When the fortunes of the Centauri began to wane many of the vessels that had built the Republic where placed in long term reserve. The best ships, the Battleships and armoured cruisers remained there, two centuries old but still a match for most vessels in the galaxy. The lesser vessels were put up for sale to add some extra funds to the naval coffers.

The Balosians had proven eager customers and bought many ships. The Centauri stripped them of the most advanced tech and gave what were essentially empty hulls and engines to the Balosians, who were still very pleased to have these craft for their fledgling navy. They added their own weapons and own fighters, painted them as appropriate and held training and drill exercises. They were a small fleet but surprisingly professional and skilled. The Balosian army was one of the best in the galaxy, and while it received most of the publicity the Navy wasn't far behind.

The plaudits did not help when a couple of thousand Dilgar ships arrived and surprised the Balosians. Skilled as they were the Balosians proved no match for the Dilgar fleet, but those skills, that determination they had learned had kept them alive all this time when most people would have written them off after a month or two.

They passed into the hangar bay beneath the ship's crest, a Balosian sword cleaving through a rock. It was the symbol of the ancient tribe Seffensa of which Kanos was the de facto chieftain, the actual leadership being somewhere on Balos and therefore out of touch. Unlike the rest of the fleet the Centauri had been too rushed to remove the artificial gravity on this vessel, and that act of negligence had more or less guaranteed the Seffensa would be the command ship for the whole of Balos. Such as it was.

They landed between a rack of Tiger furies, the human fighters painted the same black and grey as the rest of the Balosian fleet. At first the Balosians had a hard time using them, having a thick reptilian tail which made the human designed seats uncomfortable. However a sharp knife and a little violence later and they simply gouged out a portion of the upright seat and found it solved their problems elegantly. After that they had become extremely attached to the scrappy little fighters, each of them displaying numerous streaks of red paint, each streak representing the blood of a kill.

As the shuttle rolled to a stop Paul could recognise Kanos heading towards them, a dull green colour to his scaly flash and a perpertual grin bearing sharp little teeth. He looked like a predator even without knowing his reputation, he'd probably destroyed as many Dilgar ships as any human vessel.

"Welcome Paul Calendar!" The Balosian greeted with clear joy. "Welcome back to my ship and home!"

"Always an honour Commander." He bowed formally. "You remember Agent Sakai of Earth Intelligence."

"We gladly do!" Kanos smiled a lipless grin. "Your information led us to many victims, we are pleased with the opportunities Earth gives us to bloody our warriors."

"And Earth is glad to have less Dilgar ships in the galaxy." Jenny answered honestly. "Your expertise as convoy raiders is unsurpassed. My personal compliments Commander."

The Balosian nodded his head repeatedly, a little similar to birds on Earth making a rasping laughing noise. "We accept the praise of a fellow warrior, we know your own exploits against the Dilgar and the pelts you would have by right if humans desired to claim such trophies."

"Well I'd have nowhere to keep my…err.. Dilgar skins." Jenny maintained her smile. "They'd clash with my curtains."

"So you come with news of new prey?" Kanos asked eagerly.

"We do, maybe the biggest hunt of the war." Paul replied, empaphising with the Commander's wish to give the Dilgar some more pain. "Lets go talk somewhere quieter shall we? You'll be interested to hear this."

The group made their way through the ship, the vessel emptier than a human ship would have been. While the Seffensa was still combat ready her crew had suffered from attrition and was operating with less numbers than was ideal. It wasn't too important in standard combat, but for boarding and damage control that lack of manpower could prove critical.

They arrived at the Commander's private rooms and settled down, the walls decorated in tribal markings and tokens from his world speaking of a rich history. The Balosian seats were a little uncomfortable for those of a human anatomy, but neither Paul nor Jenny complained.

"Tell me, is a battle coming?" Kanos began. "Is that why you are here?"

Paul nodded. "We are making ready for an attack."

"Where?"

"We haven't decided, either Tirrith." He looked at the reptilian face. "Or Balos."

Kanos' eyes opened wider. "At last! At last my people can be free!"

"But before Earth commits we need to know which planet should be liberated first." Jenny quickly added before the Commander set his hopes too high. "We're scouting both worlds but the EIA thought you might be able to give us some more inside information about Balos. Are you in contact with anyone on the surface? A resistance group perhaps?"

"Yes, yes." He nodded. "We often travel those stars to speak to our homes and remind them we still live and still fight."

"What's the current situation on the planet?"

"Our world suffered greatly." Kanos spoke with bitterness. "Orbital strikes, Mass Drivers, biological weapons. The resistance speaks of bodies piled high, fields of dead murdered by plague."

Jenny and Paul solemnly averted their eyes.

"But my world and my people are strong." Kanos said with a swell of pride. "We returned to our true homes, our underdwellings, and there the Dilgar cannot harm us."

"Underdwellings?" Jenny repeated as a question.

"My race was forced many millennia ago to flee the surface, great disaster, great fire. Our scientists believe it was a meteor strike, maybe a test of our strength from the heavens." He explained calmly, the history and interpretations a big piece of Balosian culture. "Whatever it was it forced us underground, and our ancestors prospered."

He pointed to a carving on the wall made from a yellow rock showing the shapes of Balosians looking up at a cavern hung with stalactites and deposits.

"We found our world had many deep caverns, many springs and waters. We found food and in time learned to farm our own. Great towns turned into great cities. We made tunnels and passages linking the underdwellings, we made a world beneath the world and remained there in safety, if not comfort."

"Remarkable story of survival." Paul felt joy at the history, he had a lot of respect for Balosians and it was growing by the minute.

"In time we returned to the surface, our population outgrew the underdwellings and so we made surface cities. In time the caverns were abandoned as we became surface dwellers and made our way into space. So our world came to be what you know it as."

Kanos emitted a slight rattling growl from his throat.

"Then the sky demons came, the Dilgar, and they bombed our cities and scoured our lands, and many died before they even knew war was upon them. Our race faced extinction again, a cataclysm from the sky. But like our forefathers before us we fled underground, back into the tunnels and the caverns deep below ground."

"How deep are they?" Jenny asked.

"Deep enough to be undetectable by sensors and untouched by orbital strikes." The Balosian smiled. "Large enough so many, many of my people survive there, the resistance thinks well over a billion have returned to the cradle of our race."

"A billion?" Paul almost laughed for joy.

"We found the homes of earlier generations still sound, the old farms overgrown with algae but tendable, the old springs fresh and pure with no taint of disease. For the second time the rock and warm of our world gave us sanctuary and life."

"But don't the Dilgar try and force you out?" Jenny asked.

"They try. They fail." Kanos chuckled. "Not for nothing were Balosian warriors so feared. "He brandished his claws and smiled a sharp fanged smile. "In space the Dilgar are great hunters, in the underdwellings they are sport for our young."

"This is great news." Paul said enthusiastically. "It'll have to convince Earth to take Balos first."

"Maybe." Jenny was less convinced of the result of Earth Force's decisions. "Do you know what forces the Dilgar have?"

"Many troops, many bases, many weapons." Kanos said. "They cannot take the planet from us, but have heavily fortified a number of key areas. They have anti ship guns and strong mechanised units. Very powerful ground forces, and concentrated around mines and worker cities."

"We know from intercepts Balos is a core production and mining centre." Jenny observed. "Probably more than Tirrith, and better defended as a result."

"Yes, this is true." Kanos admitted. "Tirrith would be easier to take, the Dilgar on Balos are heavily entrenched, on land in space. Many starbases, many satellites, many ships."

"It might be harder, but we have a population still free on the surface." Paul pointed out. "Well, below the surface."

"It's incredible they've held out for so long in the heart of Dilgar space." Jenny agreed.

"We raid and fight, destroy the enemy machines and kill their workers." Kanos said proudly. "But our warriors are now few, and their armies vast. Our defeats are beginning to outnumber our defeats."

"Couple of million Gaim bugs might change that around." Paul grinned with an evil glint.

"If we coordinate a landing with the resistance we could turn the defences with much less casualties than you'd expect." Jenny considered. "Hit them from above and below at the same time."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Paul nodded.

"Commander, I can't guarantee anything." Jenny stated clearly. "But this information will play a big part in the decision. Admiral Hamato is a man of honour, when he learns Balos is still fighting for its freedom it will change their priorities. It won't just be about resources, we have people to fight for, people we didn't know were still…" She paused.

"Alive?" Kanos queried. "There is no shame in the word, we are proud so many lived through this war, and still live now. When Earth comes to Balos, we will go with you. We will prepare for one more great and glorious Hunt, the slaying of the demons over our world."

"We will inform you as soon as we know Commander." Jenny said. "Your forces and bravery will be a great bonus to our fleet."

"And your honour and strength will be the saviour of my world." Kanos said in return. "We know this, we know it will be others who defeat the Dilgar once and for all. Yet we will be there, and while the fire of our guns may be small next to the power of Earth Force, the fire in our soul is no less bright."

"Then we fight together." Paul affirmed. "To free Balos."

"To free Balos." Kanos repeated with firm certainty. "We will be waiting for you."

Quadrant Seven

Last jump point before the Narn/Drazi border

The system had always been well defended, it had little in the way of resources and the colonies were more symbolic than profitable, a stern and defiant symbol that the Narn Regime was here to stay despite the hardship. The colonists had little say in the matter of course, but did their duty as pioneers and examples of their hardy breed.

What it lacked in physical attributes the system made up for in location. Situated on the Drazi border it had seen a vast amount of bloodshed with almost weekly raids by Drazi marauders or Narn nuisance ships trying to wear down or test the resolve of each other. Before the Narn had taken this world it had belonged to the Centauri, and likewise had seen much battle just with different coloured ships on one side. The Narn had inherited both the worlds and the border and had jealously clung onto it despite the fairly worthless nature of the place.

Things had taken a turn with the war. The Drazi still tried to maintain a strong presence on their side of the border despite being hard pressed by Warmaster Dar'sen of the Dilgar, and after a few months of massive losses had no choice but to weaken the border fleets to bulk up the squadrons facing the Dilgar.

With great glee the Narn had seized the chance to make a quick and painless acquisition and taken the neighbouring system from the Drazi. The Hilak attack was almost entirely bloodless and very pleasing to the Kha'ri.

At least it was until the Dilgar showed up and took the colony, subjecting Narn and Drazi alike to depraved experiments while ignoring the protestations of the Kha'ri.

The political fall out from that was widely cited as the reason for the major shift in policy and removal of the old guard of the Kha'ri, replaced by younger, more vibrant and more devious students of politics. Ta'Kai was one, and G'Kar another.

The Narn had not strayed beyond their borders since then, but had increased the size of their forces in the area to discourage both the Drazi and more importantly the Dilgar. The current fleet was called the Black Fleet and represented about a third of the Narn navy, a very large and very formidable force by anyone's standard quite able to meet a Dilgar Strike fleet on good terms, or an Earth Force Line Fleet for that matter either.

"Our hyperspace probes confirm it sir, the human fleet is preparing to jump."

Warleader Du'Jen smiled at the news, clenching his fists in anticipation. "Good, signal the fleet to stand by, I don't know what the humans were thinking but they have made a giant mistake."

Word spread from the command ship and across the fleet weapon systems prepared and fighters launched. The Narn ships were a cobbled together match of extremely potent Centauri technology and extremely simplistic home grown systems. It made the Narn an enigmatic foe, and opponents were unsure whether they were about to face a scarily well armed heavy warship or a terribly built example of cannon fodder. Narn ships tended to be heavier than their human equivalents and benefited from a few superior weapons, while human ships tended to be more efficient and harder to kill. In previous battles warships from both sides had shown themselves well suited to fighting each other with superior tactics tending to win the day for one side or the other.

The exception of course was in fighter combat where the Starfuries came as a nasty surprise to Narn pilots. The Gorinth fighter was based on Centauri technology and while nimble and quite speedy the old Tiger Furies had shredded them in action, it didn't bear thinking about what a Nova Fury would do. The Narn were fast working on a new fighter to match Starfuries and Thoruns, but for now they would have to trust in numbers.

Fortunately the Black Fleet was not lacking in that category.

A huge area of space twinkled as blue vortexes disgorged brutal looking warships, wreathed in clouds of equalling unappealing but effective grey fighters. At one time a fleet jump would be a thing of wonder, a rarity that cost a small fortune and was only used in the largest of military exercises. But today it was so common and such in use it generated no more than a simple annotation in a ships log.

"Earth Alliance fleet entering system." The report came through. "Forty Dreadnoughts, one hundred cruisers, twenty five carriers. The remainder are Escort Destroyers and Frigates."

"Powerful force." Du'Jen allowed. "But not as powerful as us, make final deployment and stand by."

"Sir, we are receiving communications from the human command ship."

"Put it through."

The very simple communication screen lit up and connected with the signal from the human fleet, a middle aged red haired man then resolved into view, smiling very widely.

"Greetings, I'm Admiral Donald Ferguson of the Dreadnought Charlemagne, glad to meet you, how you doing?"

Du'Jen had to pause and think for a moment, the jovial reception not what he had expected.

"I am …doing well." He answered. A little awkwardly. "Though your interest would be more believable if you didn't have five hundred heavily armed ships pointing at me."

"They are only pointing at you because you are in front of them." Ferguson replied with eminent logic. "If you were to move aside there wouldn't be a problem."

"To quote a human phrase, I don't think so."

"Well you can stay there as long as you like, we'll be under way in…" he checked his watch. "Twenty seven minutes."

The Narn shook his head, grimacing. "No Admiral, I'm afraid that will not happen."

"Well, our sensors might need a minute or two more but we will…"

"No Admiral, I mean we can't let you go."

Ferguson's grin slipped away with a sigh. "Going to be like that is it?"

"Only if you force the issue." Du'Jen replied. "You trespassed on Narn territory, all your vessels and crews will surrender to us and be impounded."

"I see." Ferguson said without committing one way or another.

"In the interests of good relations we will send your people home, call it a good will gesture to Earth."

"And our ships?"

"They will remain here."

"I'm sure the Narn will be eager to put them to good use." The Admiral said blankly.

"They are in our space illegally, be glad we are letting your people go home."

"Much as I personally like the Narn, Earth is in a little war at the moment, so we won't be just giving away a fleet of ships."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"And while you might have an impressive force here, if you try and take our vessels by force, well it isn't going to be pretty. Ask Deathwalker."

"I'm afraid I don't have her home address."

"Oh really?" Ferguson raised an eyebrow. "Not what I'd heard."

Beside him Du'Jen's executive officer drew his attention. "Ship leaving hyperspace sir."

"Type?"

"Heavy Cruiser, one of ours."

"Assign it a place in the line and have it prepare for action."

He raised his voice and directed it again at the screen. "So what is it you have heard Admiral?"

"Well, rumour has it there are some in the Kha'ri who are on good terms with Jha'dur, and others in the Dilgar Imperium."

"That is preposterous!"

"Yes, yes I'm sure it is."

"Those murderers killed thousands of Narn citizens on Hilak, I have nothing but hatred for them! They have been named as blood enemies of the Narn people!"

"How very admirable." Ferguson nodded stiffly. "We don't like them either."

"Sir," The executive officer raised again. "Message from the new cruiser."

"Who is it?" Du'Jen betrayed a moment of annoyance.

"Warcaptain G'Sten."

"Tell him I'm busy."

The human frowned. "And yet, bizarrely given how you hate the Dilgar, I find your name mentioned in a high rated Dilgar intelligence briefing."

The entire bridge of the Narn vessel went icily cold and quiet as the crew looked at Du'Jen, the only sound the increased thumping of his heart.

"One moment Admiral, I have another message coming in." Du'Jen spoke quickly. "Put G'Sten through!"

The Executive officer remained staring suspiciously at the Warleader.

"Now!"

His panic was growing so fast, the secret he clung to so close to being revealed, he didn't even consider how the human had known his name.

The human vanished, to Du'Jen's great relief and was replaced by a Narn face. As a Warleader and senior official he had some particular interests in Narn businesses, especially out on far colonies. He knew who this companies did business with, but he had never thought their dealings and his involvement could be traced.

He was in such a disorganised state he failed to notice the figure on the screen was not actually G'Sten.

"Du'Jen!" The man snapped. "What in G'Quan's name are you doing?!"

He blinked as he slotted the face into his mind. "G'Kar?"

"Yes, G'Kar!" The furious Narn returned. "What are you doing?"

"I am challenging the humans." He said as if it were obvious.

"Do you even read your orders?" G'Kar snarled. "Do you even read? Because after this display I'm ready to question even that!"

"I am doing what the Kha'ri ordered!" Du'Jen defended.

"Well did you notice they had changed their orders?"

He did not immediately reply.

"Oh well done Du'Jen, well done!" The Kha'ri member yelled. "Congratulations on almost starting a shooting war with the race we want to be allies with!"

"But… what?"

"You ar enot in possession of all the facts." G'Kar sighed heavily. "Which is apparent to everyone but you it seems, I want you to close the channel with the human and stand down the fleet."

"But they have a battle group in our space!"

G'Kar glared over the screen, his red eyes on the verge of melting through the display. "That was not a suggestion, it was an order."

"You don't have the authority!"

"If you were paying attention, you'd know I was recently promoted to the Third Circle. Now, do I have to appoint G'Sten or will you obey?"

Du'Jen simmered with anger, humility and laid open in front of his bridge crew. It was going to take a miracle to salvage his career after this.

"I obey Representative G'Kar, we are standing down."

"First intelligent decision you have made Du'Jen." G'Kar grunted. "Redeploy the fleet to its patrol stations, we will talk a little bit more about your, shall we say questionable associations later."

The Warleader did as he was told, that was his only choice, and felt the bile rise in his throat.

EAS Charlemagne

"What do you think they are doing sir?" Commander Griffin puzzled over the silent channel.

"My guess?" Ferguson considered for a moment. "Someone's going to be flying a garbage scow this time next week."

He smiled inwardly, only able to imagine the verbal chewing up the Narn fleet commander was in the middle of receiving.

"Yeah, I bet there will be a lot of grumpy Narns, maybe a few happy ones too."

"Sir?"

"The message Director Durban sent, it was to a specific individual in the Kha'ri." Ferguson stated. "The same one who gave us that warning about a Dilgar raid heading for Earth. That turned out to be nothing, but it caught the Directors attention."

"That message, it was evidence the Narn had collaborated with the Dilgar?" Griffin tried to clarify.

"Yes it was."

"Then why would he be happy?"

"Because that guy now has hard political currency, enough dirt to keep those who would side with the Dilgar in line." Ferguson smiled. "Got to hand it to Durban, that man is a certified genius. Not only does it get us safe passage to Drazi space it also boosts the pro-Earth group within the Kha'ri and all but guarantees the future Narn Regime will be much more friendly to the Alliance."

Griffin smiled. "Sneaky bugger!"

"The guys at the top are already setting up the post war galaxy, the friends we will have and benefits we'll reap from this." Ferguson nodded. "Real big picture stuff, a little nudge here, small push there, tiny steps that in a few years or even decades can change the entire face of the galaxy. The EIA is good at a lot of things, but these sort of set ups are easily the most impressive. If you know about them that is."

"So whoever ended up with that message, it pretty much guarantees him a leading political career forever?"

"Unless someone assassinates him of course." Ferguson reminded. "But yeah, I'm sure it would make Narn politics rather more interesting for a while."

Griffin noticed a message flicker onto his console. "Sir, message coming in from the second Narn vessel."

"Lets hear what this guy has to say." Ferguson smiled. "Remember to keep smiling."

"Welcome to the Quadrant Admiral!" A Narn beamed enthusiastically. "I am Representative G'Kar, Third Circle of the Kha'ri, you will be pleased to hear we are standing down."

"Very glad, Earth has no quarrel with the Narn, we just want to help our allies."

"Ahh, such a noble gesture!" G'Kar boomed. "And we Narn are well known for our keen sense of right and wrong!"

"Well that's great, I mean that little information my people uncovered…"

"Oh, don't mind that!" G'Kar waved dismissively. "A few, how do you so eloquently put it, bad eggs?"

"You could say that." Ferguson nodded. "Of course we'd call them collaborators, profiteers, maybe even traitors."

"And personally, I'd call them worm food." G'Kar's grin never slipped. "I wouldn't worry about them, all the names on that list your very clever intelligence people found, I plan to have some lengthy conversations with them. Especially the name at the top."

"Someone called Ta'Kai?"

"Oh yes, we have a little history." G'Kar stated with growing coldness. "But now I have solid evidence, more ammunition for my arsenal. You'll have to thank your code people next time you speak to them."

"Actually Representative, this message was the thank you." Ferguson said. "We know it was you who tried to warn us of a Dilgar attack. That was a brave move, you risked angering a lot of your own people, and of course the Dilgar themselves."

The Narn just shrugged, a gesture he may have picked up from humanity. "It was a choice, nothing selfless in it I'm afraid, I just didn't like the idea of a thousand enraged human ships arriving over my home."

"Just personally, I think there's more to it than that." Ferguson offered a sly smile.

"I couldn't possibly comment." G'Kar returned. "But unofficially, I can see the way this war is going, and I'd rather not side with the losers."

"Well, we've still got a long way to go yet." The Admiral sounded a little caution. "Speaking of…"

"You have a clear path to Hilak." G'Kar confirmed. "And you have the blessing of the Narn people. When you drive the Dilgar from Hilak, we ask you treat the graves of our colonists with respect."

"Of course." Ferguson nodded solemnly. "And if we find any survivors we'll send them straight home."

"Whatever the practicalities of this war, I do see that there are two clear sides. One of good and one of evil, terms that are used so often they have lost their real meaning." G'Kar spoke richly and seriously. "But evil, evil has a face now and a list of deeds that truly chill the soul and bleed the heart. Good luck Admiral, and I for one will toast the day that the Dilgar are brought to their knees."

"Thank you." Ferguson nodded. "And Representative, understand that you have made some powerful friends on Earth."

"And your people will have strong friends here too." G'Kar affirmed. "Until next time, my new friends."

"Until next time, Representative G'Kar."

Omelos

Government Centre

After long enough the numbers just blurred into one digit filled maelstrom, the figures cascading into one another and defying all attempts to make any logical pattern from them. That moment where concentration gave up had finally arrived, and Warmaster Jha'dur was powerless to stop it.

She leaned back in her chair with a long exhalation, rubbing her eyes and wincing as her limbs complained at the order to move. She'd been sat for so long in the same pose her body was determined to resist the motion. At one time fatigue would not have concerned her, she had been so filled with energy and drive time had come to be more of a general suggestion than a barrier. But not anymore, a whole lifetime seemed to have passed since then, maybe three or four.

It was rare she stopped to examine things around her, and even rarer that she cared, but on those times she did Jha'dur found something so unfamiliar and alien she didn't even recognise what she was fighting for any longer. It was grey, cold and harsh. She had been on Omelos for over a month and hadn't even glimpsed the sun. The capital was so doused in smog and industrial grime it looked like a city of the dead. Its parks were gone, the places she had lingered as a student torn up and built over. The lake and trees of the university grounds of the Science Academy, the place her journey had really began was long gone, a tank factory now standing on the land.

It shouldn't have mattered to her, that strip of greenery would be destroyed anyway in a few years, but she wanted it back, she longed for it and to go there and just walk like she used to, to have her brother back by her side, to have Dal'shan waiting for her, to have the sun in the sky gazing radiantly on its children and not threatening to burn then all to ash.

That world was already destroyed, broken by the Dilgar themselves, and now she had no idea what exactly they were meant to be fighting for. Just that they had to fight, and no matter the odds they had to feed the maw of battle for as long as it took or until no one was left alive.

That was all she knew, all her life was now. No peace, no respite, not even a moment where she could indulge in something that made her feel even dimly alive and wholesome. She was Deathwalker, and that was all.

The figures in front of her were vital, list after list of warships, fighter squadrons and crews. The collection of numbers represented the future of her race, or its ultimate destruction depending on how well they fought and how well she led them. It was an impressive group and growing daily, but it was by no means a guarantee of victory. There was nothing now that could give her that certainty, those days of supreme confidence were gone.

Tired as she was her fatigue did not stop the burning red anger rushing like a firestorm through her veins when she noticed her moment of weakness had been observed by another.

"You should learn to knock."

Salasine provided a racking, grating laugh. "You mistake me for one who cares."

"You might want to learn some humility, Drakh." Jha'dur glared in his direction. "You should be careful about assuming nothing can touch you."

"Something you know first hand." The Drakh ambassador delivered with that constant mocking grimace his race bore. "I am here for a reason."

"More valuable information Salasine?" She enquired flippantly. "More crucial news of the war?"

"The humans have sent a fleet through Narn space. It will soon link up with the Drazi and together they will attack the forces in that area."

"Oh for goodness sake." She rolled her eyes. "You disturb me to tell me this? Do you think I do not have spies scattered across Narn space? Do you think they could move so many ships so far and I wouldn't know? What a waste."

The Drakh tilted his head. "Do you know the Drakh plan to attack Fendamir with this combined force next month?"

"They are Drazi, of course they will attack Fendamir next month, it is what they do every damn month, for the last year and a half!"

"But with Earth ships…"

"With Earth ships they might win, yes, I guessed that and so has Dar'sen." She dismissed. "Plans are in effect."

"Perhaps then you do not need our help?" Salasine said. "Maybe we shouldn't have helped revive you and give you technology?"

"Lately all you have done is state the obvious." She returned coldly. "Perhaps your next report will include something ground breaking, like telling me the sky is blue, or that space is quite big?"

Salasine simply nodded slowly. "Maybe you should rest before we talk more?"

"I don't need rest, I need quiet."

"Among other things." The Drakh observed. "I read one of their reports, a mission log."

"Is this going to be evenly a little bit relevant, or do you just enjoy wasting my time?"

"It was a report about the destruction of the Vanquisher."

She exhaled. "Not that again, the ship is still out there and Dal'shan is alive. I can sense it."

"What you feel is a delusion. Confront the truth and draw strength from it."

"I don't want to, I haven't got the time for this."

"The report confirms Dal'shan is dead, accept it."

"Get out." Jha'dur snarled.

"He was killed face to face fighting humans, it was a worthy death."

"I said get out!"

"The human who killed him took a trophy, an engraved weapon." Salasine said, the little snippet of information confirming is story. "Identical to the one you carry at your side."

Jha'dur's breathing grew faster, sharp shallow breaths as the Drakh walked closer.

"Embrace the grief, let it destroy the last weakness within you, let your emotions burn away."

She stared daggers at the alien, her hand gripping the pistol at her waist as she sat by the desk.

"Only by breaking apart the old can we build the new." The Drakh said calmly, encouragingly. "This war has shaped you, forged you into the greatest weapon of war in living memory. My Masters will be truly impressed by what you have become. You have been born in pain Deathwalker, embrace the last measure of grief, then feel no more."

She closed her eyes tightly shut, driving back the inexorable march of the truth, she already knew of course, part of her knew the very moment he had died without even hearing any reports, but she would not accept it, and certainly not on the word of this creature.

She snapped to her feet, tumbling the chair backwards and drawing her hand gun, pointing it at the Drakh, who just cracked a hard smile.

"Pain gives birth to us all."

She tilted her head, feeling the rash anger vanish like a fire in the rain, a cool calmness returning to her with confident reassurance. "Delivering a lecture to me about pain is like telling the sun how to shine."

The gun remained levelled at him.

"You should lower that, you don't want to hurt yourself."

"It isn't me I'm planning to hurt."

The Drakh chuckled. "If I thought such a primitive weapon could harm me, I wouldn't appear to you like this."

Jha'dur raised an eyebrow. "What did I say about assuming no one could touch you?"

She lowered the weapon slightly, then pulled the trigger lighting up the room with a blue flash. The particle bolt punched into Salasine's right knee with a sizzle of boiling blood dropping the shocked Drakh to the ground with a look of utter shock on his bony face.

"I bet that wasn't in your plan for today, was it?" Jha'dur wondered absently as she advanced.

The Drakh was frantically squeezing something on his belt, a device of some kind, but nothing happened.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I ruin your big exit?"

Salasine clenched his teeth. "You do not know what you have done!"

"I know exactly what I have done Salasine, and more importantly what you have done." She leaned on the edge of her desk, gun still trained on the Drakh. "Evolution, you mention it quite often. Turns out your technology is not altogether that brilliant, just an evolution of principles we already have. Your invisibility comes from your cloak, same principle as our stealth suits but not requiring a full body suit. Your personal shielding, not dissimilar to Abbai principles. Once we knew how they work, we found ways to neutralise them."

"How?"

"A human principle, blanket jamming of all frequencies." She replied. "Brute force. Doesn't matter how sophisticated your technology, how precise and beautiful your devices, with a big enough hammer its still just shattered components."

"I am not… alone here!" Salasine snarled viciously.

"We know, and right now my men are rounding up your friends in the same way I caught you." She paused. "Actually, there was one thing."

She fired a bolt into Salasine's shoulder, dropping him with a roar onto his back, then nimbly removed a small disc from his belt.

"This we don't have." She turned it over in her hand. "Your teleporter is it? The device which lets you phase in and out of real space and materialise somewhere else." She popped it in her pocket. "We jammed it, but I'm sure I can find a use for it in the future."

"When my Masters learn of this…"

"They will what? Rescue you?" Jha'dur asked with a smile. "How? Last I heard they were fast asleep. Also even if one or two was awake, would they come to the aid of someone who arrogantly walked headlong into a trap, or would they congratulate us on our ingenuity and… evolved tactics?"

Salasine's eyes narrowed. "You have no idea what you are playing with!"

"Never stopped me before."

She relaxed a little, all weariness long retreated from her.

"You tried to use us Salasine, you tried to use me." Jha'dur stated calmly. "Not the cleverest plan in the galaxy."

The Drakh shook his head. "If you only knew."

"The thing is, I am nobodies puppet. I make my own destiny."

The Drakh laughed, a cold, dead retching noise. "You have never controlled your destiny!"

She glared at him. "Explain."

"How many stars just blow up for no reason Warmaster?"

She slid from the table and walked closer. "Talk more."

"I will, if you deactivate the jamming."

She knelt down. "No, you will tell me what I want to know, either now or later. The only difference will be how much flesh you have still attached to your bones."

The Drakh nodded, not having much of a choice. "Your race, it is an experiment."

"Do we have your masters to thank for this?"

"I don't know." Salasine admitted. "We are humble servants, maybe they did, maybe it was our enemies."

"What enemies?"

"Your potential was clear to all." The Drakh answered. "Perhaps they wanted to wipe you out before the next great contest, or perhaps our masters wanted to push you into fulfilling your great destiny. It does not matter what the intention was, it is the result that matters. Look what you have become, it is magnificent."

"What I have become is the subject of debate." Jha'dur returned plainly. "I do not recognise myself anymore, and it seems I have to thank for that."

"In part, but we just awakened what was already inside. Len'char was happy to help."

"He isn't so happy now."

"Emperor Len'char was never our real prize, you were." Salasine stated. "You were to be our champion, you would lead the armies of dark in the coming war. You will be our nexus."

The Dilgar chuckled. "You assume far too much."

"War is in your blood now Deathwalker. You need to destroy, you have to kill, it is now your nature. My Masters will give you all the opportunity you need."

"I have my own plans for the future. The do not involve being somebody else's pawn."

"You were always just a pawn in a greater game."

"You can believe that, Drakh." She smiled. "But I know that is a lie designed to save your skin, or maybe enrage me to the point you have a quick death. But you see, I have plans for you."

"More of my people will come."

"No, I doubt they will." Jha'dur shook her head. "The can't steal you away because we can beat your technology. Perhaps they will send a fleet to fight down here and rescue you, but I don't think they'll risk the ships just to save your life. No Salasine, you are mine, and if you want to know about being born from pain, well you came to the right planet."

"I am worth more alive than dead." The Drakh growled. "This is a waste of resources."

"Really?" Jha'dur smiled slightly. "Because I found some interesting facts about you from a little sample of DNA I acquired."

"How did you…?"

"Not important." She dismissed. "What is important, is that you are perfect."

He frowned, not sure how to respond.

"It was not a compliment." She continued. "Genetically you are flawless, which is impossible in nature. Your structure, immune system, physical and cellular functions, just perfect. I'd bet you never suffer from disease and live for a very, very long time." She grinned. "Practically Immortal I'd bet."

The Drakh shifted uncomfortably.

"But all of that, if it isn't natural it must be artificial. Someone has been playing with your genes, these ancient masters of yours perhaps? Doesn't really matter. What matters is that whatever was done to you was invented, and it can be copied. All I have to do is pull you apart until I find out how."

Salasine shook his head. "If that is all you want, we can give it to you, you don't need to do all of this!"

"No, I do need to." She spoke quietly. "Because I found something else. A little clue in your DNA, it was a pattern I had seen before, a slight fluke of genetics I couldn't quite place until last night. Then I realised, I'd seen a fragment of this genetic code before, guess where?"

Salasine did not reply, he just gazed at Jha'dur like a condemned man, he knew the answer.

"I'll tell you shall I? The unidentified substance in Gar'shan's blood." She smiled in triumph. "It was so subtle, so well hidden I almost missed it. Such a sublime infection, nano technology, an absolutely perfect sample of organic technology. I am very impressed. Slightly less impressed that you are responsible for Gar'shan's coma however."

Salasine's mouth worked wordlessly for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts.

"You have to understand what we were trying to do."

"Go on."

"Gar'shan, he was in your way, so we had to remove him."

"Was he indeed?"

"If he was healthy, still in power you would not have attained your current position, you would be follower, we needed you to be a leader."

"I see."

"Len'char was our instrument, he did as we asked." Salasine grinned. "We did not even have to implant a companion, a keeper. His greed and lust for power was more than enough."

"So Len'char did everything you told him to?"

"Yes, yes he did."

She leaned in, eyes wide and paler blue than usual. "And when you told him to send my brother to his death, was he then happy to oblige?"

Again the Drakh went very, very quiet.

"And I thought Len'char was intelligent enough to do all this by himself, to try and strip away my support and family as a way of destroying me. It was you all along."

"We made you into a hero, a champion."

"You made me into a monster!" She shouted back. "Well now you shall reap the rewards, what I will do to you will be a masterpiece of my new art!"

"Kill me, and lose the secrets of curing the Supreme Warmaster." Salasine said flatly, but with enough waver in his voice for Jha'dur to know he was desperate.

"No, I don't think that will happen." She replied. "Because now I know what he is affected by, now I've seen it in detail I can develop my own cure. And you will help me."

"Yes, I will help."

"You will help by laying still when I saw through your head and pick your brains. Literally."

Salasine looked down at the floor, the wounds still burning with increasing pain as the shock wore off.

"All we did was allow you to reach your full potential."

"You killed everything I cared about." She answered flatly. "You will answer for it. For the rest of eternity you will answer for it."

She stood and pushed a button on the table, a moment later her door opened and revealed her chief Spectre and two of his men.

"Arn'dal." She spoke formally. "Lab Nine."

He pointed to the Drakh and the two other men grabbed the weakened alien and hauled him up.

"Wait." Jha'dur spoke, pausing the Spectres. She closed the distance, standing face to face with the bony Drakh. "You asked to know what it was I wanted, and I did not answer. Still want to know?"

He nodded.

"What I want, is to see the galaxy burn." She said with relish. "I want worlds turned to ash, I want civilizations to fall into bloody ruin. I want to see the dead outnumber the living, bodies piled like mountains of death. I want blood to flow in every street and the cries of the dying to be the music of existence. I want every single sentient in the galaxy to suffer like I have suffered, and then I want them all to die. Good enough?"

Salasine began to laugh. "When I die, I will join my masters, and they will congratulate me on a job well done."

"You will never die." Jha'dur promised icily. "After what you have done, I have something special for you. The humans say Misery likes company, and I am in a mood to share. But you Salasine, you get my most special treatment. I don't know if the Drakh believe in hell, but very soon you'll know it to be a fact."

She gestured at the Spectres and they dragged Salasine away, taking him to her infamous place of experimentation.

"All other Drakh have been accounted for." Arn'dal reported.

"Good, take them to my Lab too." She ordered. "I'll deal with them all in time. Make sure you take all their technology to my senior research team."

The lead Spectre nodded.

"Their influence is gone, their schemes destroyed." She stated. "What happens next is up to us."

"Yes Warmaster."

She picked up a sheet from her desk. "Make sure this gets to Dar'sen via courier, no broadcasts, we can't count on the security of our communication net anymore."

"Understood."

"Not long now." She mused. "Our time is coming, the time we stand of fall. Whatever happens we will not falter or fail, and no alien race will snare us. It will be a fair battle, a final test of fire and steel." She felt a smile. "I just have a few loose ends to tie up first. Starting with Len'char."


	79. Chapter 79

78

Hilak

Contested World

Drazi Space

It had been a long time since the world had known peace, since its surface had not rumbled to gunfire or its sky twinkled with warships. The planet had been claimed by the Narn, by the Drazi and by the Dilgar with all three powers attempting to wrestle control of it for themselves, and ultimately the Dilgar proved to be the stronger. Orbit was littered with the remnants of the contest, fragments of metal circling the world in a tiny glittering belt gradually falling from the sky in blobs of burning light.

Worse than the silent reminders of carnage in space was the whimpering remnants on the ground. Victims of the Dilgar occupation lay in various internment camps quiet and empty. The glazed that rested in their hollow faces looked out with no soul or emotion, just waiting without hope for the next round of torture, resigned to die.

The cities were burned husks, once proud colonial settlements filled with hope and a pioneering spirit had become haunted blackened ruins, ghostly jagged shapes rising from swells of fallen masonry and buried lives. Beyond them on overgrown farm land were shanty towns built by forced labour to house the survivors in squalor. The foetid huts and disease ridden dwellings hung with a heavy air, the reek of death and pestilence that was slowly devouring the inhabitants.

They were a mix of Drazi and Narn, along with one or two Dilgar who had in some way offended Jha'dur and were sent not merely for experimentation put to suffer such a grim fate shoulder to shoulder with their inferiors from alien races. Not just death, but complete dishonour and exile from the self styled master race of the galaxy. For a soldier of the Imperium it was the worst conceivable punishment.

Surrounded by Narn and Drazi those Dilgar should have died fast, but none of the victims had the strength to kill them, or indeed the will. Their lives were spent, their fire gone out, and only in the barest biological terms did they count as being alive anymore. They had survived, but it was not an achievement, it was punishment.

Admiral Ferguson stood in the ruins breathing through a handkerchief pressed to his face, his eyes raw and head nauseas from the indescribable stench permeating the air. The camp was a mile away but its odour was so strong and pungent it had invaded the area around it with malevolence, spreading the signs of the suffering all around. There was no breeze and the still unshifting air did not freshen or change.

"Sir." Commander Griffin spoke quietly. "Sir, we can find another spot."

"No." The Admiral shook his head, examining the broken rafters reaching from a wrecked house like burnt fingers reaching for help. "This place is necessary. It's a glimpse of the future Commander, this is Earth if we don't win."

Small lines of people snaked past, Narn and Drazi alike dressed in clean and crisp Earth Force fatigues, their original clothing burned on the spot to eliminate infections and parasites. They were the luckier ones, those who could still walk and would go straight home. Many more were still on collapsible beds in the hastily erected field hospital beside the local camp. Some would join their fellow survivors, some would join their fellow victims. Even with all the medical technology humanity had developed there were still some people who could not be saved.

Whatever the Dilgar had done to those unfortunates was beyond Earth's ability to heal or cure, whatever contagion or virus they had went beyond the sum knowledge of human doctors and experts. It was a sobering insight into how far the Dilgar had advanced in the science of death and underlined just how crucial it was to stop them.

Some few of them in the camp did not want to be healed. They were proud people of a proud race, Narn Soldiers and Drazi Warriors as fierce and stoic as any of their kind. Their very existence was based around strength and duty, fighting for their people in defence of hearth and home. Now they were crippled, inflicted with something beyond their knowledge never to recover, just to waste away over the course of years.

Already there had been a dozen ritual suicides. The Earth Force Marines had not prevented it, and Ferguson wasn't about to order them to.

"Did we find the Dilgar camp guards?" The Admiral asked.

"Some of them, most fled to the wilds." Griffin replied. "We've got some Marines out there hunting still, so far our forces haven't taken any alive."

Ferguson didn't question the details or circumstances, he was content to believe the Dilgar fought to the death against his Marines, though in all likelihood after liberating this camp the human troops would not be in a mood to accept surrender. It went completely against the rules of war, but the still hanging smell in the air had convinced Ferguson the normal rules just didn't exist anymore.

"And the rest of the Dilgar Garrison?"

"Sitting tight on the far continent." The Commander replied. "They know if they leave the shelter of their defences will slaughter them from orbit, so I guess they are digging in hard."

"Shame we couldn't bring an armoured division." The Admiral remarked bitterly. "Give those bastards some hot steel."

"The Drazi army can take care of it." Griffin assured. "Honestly sir, I think they deserve the right more than we do."

Ferguson agreed with that, after what he had seen here he didn't begrudge the Drazi the opportunity to exact vengeance on the now isolated Dilgar troops.

The Earth Force Sixth fleet had proven an unpleasant surprise for the Dilgar warships holding this sector. In one instant they found themselves outmanned and out gunned with no idea what to do about the sudden appearance of enemy warships in their sector.

The ships on other fronts had orders to decline battle with Earth Force, but out here no such orders had been issued, indeed the Dilgar ships here were ordered to respond aggressively against any incursion expecting only Narn or Drazi assaults. The garrison had done so, attacking the human fleet with courage but no firm idea about what they were facing. The results had been entirely predictable and one sided.

The fleet settled into orbit, removing the scant orbital defences and avoiding the main Dilgar base which had a fairly potent ground based defence battery, then sent down Marines to clear up areas of light Dilgar resistance. The fleet had travelled light, no supply train, no army divisions and no reinforcements, just a few battalions of Marines for emergencies and some spare Nova Starfuries to make up combat losses. They were purely here to beat the Dilgar navy, not take territory.

Overhead a rumbling boom caused Admiral Ferguson to look up, a fast moving contrail arcing through the red and orange dusk sky and looping around above the ruined city.

"There's our new best friend." Griffin guessed. "Only an hour late, not bad."

The trail slowly resolved into a grey cylindrical ship with a glowing tail, a Drazi shuttle that growled as its engines fought gravity and brought it down to its landing site. A squadron of small Star Snake fighters zipped overhead and peeled off as the shuttle touched down, the light weight fighters seemed fast enough but their performance against the well drilled Thorun pilots of the Dilgar was legendarily bad.

The shuttle landed in the former town square, pulverising some scattered bricks under its landing gear as it touched down and cut engines. Mere moments later the ramp began to descend and a squad of Drazi Warriors leapt out, energetically assuming a conical formation wit the ramp at its apex.

"Form up Commander." Ferguson nodded, stepping from the ruined street towards the Square. The shuttle had blown away the stale air and while Fergusons nostrils were now full of dust and the smell of burning it was infinitely better than the scent that had previously dominated the town. He pocketed the handkerchief and prepared to meet his counterpart.

"Marines! Take position!" Griffin called out.

A platoon of soldiers fell in taking mirroring positions to the Drazi guards. They did not wear dress uniforms but Ferguson concluded his guest would probably appreciate fully turned out combat ready soldiers just as much, if not more than a rank of pristine uniforms. Ferguson himself stood at the Apex of his own cone of soldiers in blue duty uniform and waited.

It didn't take long. From the shuttle emerged a Drazi in a brown uniform decorated with red facings and white trim. His chest was bedecked with decorations, talismans that were similar to human medals representing victories in both fleet and single combats. Bladed weapons hung from his waist, thick and heavy daggers in the Drazi style with little subtlety or finesse but holding the promise of great pain for an enemy, not unlike the man bearing them.

He walked powerfully forward, prompting Ferguson to do the same so they met in the middle. The Drazi was a good foot shorter than the human but probably weighed in at a lot more, and while the Drazi was broad and well fed the majority of that weight was going to be muscle. They halted a couple of feet apart and regarded each other for a moment.

"My name is Donald Ferguson, Admiral, Earth Force Sixth fleet."

"I am Stro'kath." The Drazi grated in heavily accented but understandable English. "I am Warleader of the Drazi space ships."

Ferguson nodded. "I am here to offer the friendship and support of the Earth Alliance to the Drazi Freehold."

"And you start this friendship by destroying a Dilgar fleet I had targeted, and by putting Earth soldiers on Drazi soil without permission?" The Warleader said plainly but forcefully.

Ferguson had to think very quickly, it suddenly looked like this new alliance wasn't getting off to the best start.

"Well we had a long journey and needed some entertainment, thirty ships charging a Dreadnought line was the funniest thing I've seen."

Stro'kath tilted his head a little.

"But we left you fifty thousand Dilgar soldiers in the capital, we didn't want to have all the fun."

The Drazi warrior moved a step closer and scrutinized Ferguson more, the thin human not flinching from his gaze. The only time he jumped was when without warning Stro'kath roared in a massive burst of laughter.

"Good! Good!" The Drazi coursed. "You stood your ground to me! You pass the test, I knew I was right about you!"

He slapped the Admiral on the shoulder, to the Drazi a friendly tap, to the human a strike bordering on assault. Ferguson took it in good humour and waited for the tingling to go away.

"I have heard lots about humans." Stro'kath continued jovially. "From your government and from Dilgar prisoners who fought you. You should have seen their faces when we told them a human fleet was coming here!"

"I bet they were surprised." Ferguson grinned.

"Yes they were!" Stro'kath laughed. "We thought about letting them see you in person, but by then we had decided just to burn them instead. We need better long term planning."

"Well, that is a nice story." Ferguson offered with a shrug. "My people are ready to turn over this world to you and your forces, we seek no claim on it."

"And we Drazi accept and thank Earth." Stro'kath replied formally. "You offer help and ask for nothing in return? This is unusual to us."

"Well it isn't without reward." Ferguson corrected. "We get to kill Dilgar and split their forces by punching through on this front."

"Your reward is to kill Dilgar?" Stro'kath beamed before roaring once more. "Where has your race been all this time? Oh, it's about time we found some allies like you. Killing Dilgar, this is going to be great!"

The two senior officers began to walk through the rubble clogged streets, the honour guards standing down and mingling, fascinated by the collection of weapons and equipment each side used.

"As I say Admiral," Stro'kath spoke more conversationally. "We have examined your battles, and the great success you have achieved."

"Thank you, unfortunately we haven't seen many of your engagements."

Stro'kath huffed. "Our government is not so open and sharing, they did not even want you here you know? They said we could win alone and did not need help."

Ferguson raised an eyebrow. "What changed?"

"I convinced them to agree to Earth ships fighting with us. You have proven yourselves and I say openly I am honoured to fight with the victors of Markab. You wiped out Deathwalker's fleet! That alone made me smile for two weeks solid!"

"How did you change their minds?" Ferguson asked.

"Traditional Drazi method." He answered earnestly. "I hit them. In the face. Very hard until they agreed, or were unable to vote against me because they were unconscious."

"That sounds like a good way to win a vote."

"It takes some effort." Stro'kath nodded. "But is very great fun!"

The two Commanders laughed, to Ferguson it was an insane system but it seemed to have delivered a worthy result in the squat but powerful shape of Stro'kath. Sometimes he concluded it did seem to work.

"They were reluctant to share information because we did not acquit ourselves well." The Drazi returned to the topic. "We suffered many defeats, many losses, just holding on to our current fleet is very hard, the government is not understanding this and does not know how dangerous the situation is. They do not want to know."

"Sounds like the rest of the League a year ago."

"Yes, that is good comparison." Stro'kath agreed. "But they have not learned. Some have, but not many. Fortunately after the last battle I now have unchallenged control of the military."

"We heard about you from the Dilgar, which was quite funny." Ferguson stated. "They provided a very detailed account of your tactics and strategy, they were impressed and so were the Earth Force Joint Chiefs."

"The plan was not hard, and implementing it not hard." The Drazi said. "My ships and crews are good warriors, skilled and disciplined. Pressing the attack against political meddling, that was hard."

"Hopefully we can help out there." The human countered. "My forces will acknowledge you as commander on this front, to that end we will be putting ourselves under your strategic command, and you in person, not the Drazi government."

Stro'kath smiled. "So they cannot meddle with your ships."

"You'll always have warships at your command Warleader, and if the Earth Force contingent is fighting the Dilgar alone to free Drazi worlds, the shame of it will force your political leaders to commit their own ships or face removal from office by an enraged populace."

Stro'kath laughed again. "This is very good Admiral! Very good, finally we can make real progress!"

Ferguson provided the Drazi leader with a data crystal.

"That crystal includes basic data on our capabilities, what we are trained and armed to do in battle along with some suggested tactics to get the most from our ships."

"Admiral, I will not need it." Stro'kath said. "You will command the human ships, you will work with me developing tactics for both our forces, equally and in union. We are one fleet Admiral, we will fight together."

The Admiral smiled with pride. "I appreciate the trust Warleader."

"We must be a united force Admiral, perfect integration. We must know how each fleet fights and how to cover each other." Stro'kath reasoned. "On the other front Human ships and League ships fight like this with great success, so will we."

"Our main tactic is for the slower but tougher EA ships to advance on a target and force the Dilgar to engage us." Ferguson explained. "They either come to us or they are forced to abandon the system. If they decide to try and hit and run, use their speed advantage then we deploy League ships to try and herd them toward our guns."

"And here Drazi ships would do that job, force the Dilgar to you and destroy them." Stro'kath nodded in understanding. "My ships are well trained for this style of war, we can implement this strategy at once with no delay."

"And my ships are fully briefed on this tactic from their time fighting alongside the League, all we need is a standard communication protocol to coordinate our attacks."

"Easily done Admiral." Stro'kath approved. "This is good, we can start very soon, the sooner the better."

"Earth Force agrees." Ferguson nodded. "We want to get into action as soon as possible and open up this front, draw Dilgar attention up here and as many ships as possible."

"You wish to weaken the League front." Stro'kath understood. "You have another attack planned?"

"That's right." The Admiral confirmed. "We're gathering for a major attack, the last offensive of the war. We're ready to drive straight to Omelos."

"We have spoken of this ourselves." Stro'kath nodded. "Be careful of trying to do too much. Your ships are strong, but the Dilgar are not to be underestimated."

"I have faith Admiral Hamato knows what he is doing, he hasn't failed yet."

"He seems a wise leader, I am sure human ships will soon arrive at Omelos, and we will be with them."

"We will Warleader."

Stro'kath grunted with approval. "We will start at Fendamir, that is where the Dilgar main fleet is, many times the syste has changed hands, many Drazi soldiers still fight on the planets. We must drive away the Dilgar fleet and then finally take the system back."

"I agree Warleader, we need to stab deep into Dilgar space and force them to counter us. Our aim should not be to secure worlds but to destroy ships and take territory later."

"I am glad to at last find someone who understands this!" Stro'kath grinned. "Well, an ally at least. The Dilgar already know."

"We heard a lot about the local commander, Dar'sen?"

"Yes, Warmaster Dar'sen." Stro'kath named him evenly. "Good warrior, he fights well, he does not bomb civilians or use biological weapons. Yes, a good opponent to face, he forces us to fight hard or be defeated, the challenge all true warriors seek."

"Our intelligence estimates he has a line fleet and the last of the original Strike Fleets under his command, both forces are hardened veterans, about seventeen hundred ships."

"Yes, this is true. All of his ships are elite, even the line fleet is the quality of a Strike fleet. Very difficult to kill." Stro'kath nodded. "But we have the advantage now. We will win."

Ferguson smiled. "This is the start of a new era Warleader, the tide here is turning."

"Yes, yes it is. We will defeat Dar'sen and the other Dilgar, honourable or vile. We will burn the murderers by the million and cleanse their taint. All except Dar'sen. I will give him the chance of a true warriors death, single combat."

"Face to face with you?"

"Just knives." Stro'kath nodded. "It will not happen, but it is my greatest wish. I am sentimental."

Ferguson smiled at the Drazi interpretation of sentimentality. "he's the only Warmaster who won't be convicted of warcrimes we expect, he might end up leading the future Dilgar government."

"He would be a good leader." Stro'kath recognised. "But he will not live on if his fleet is destroyed, he will die with them as a good leader should. No, he will not live past the end of this war, and I ask only that I be the one to grant him a noble death."

"Well we might get a chance if he stands at Fendamir." Ferguson considered. "Did you bring the fuel for my ships?"

"Yes, it is the same as human grade reactant." Stro'kath confirmed. "My fleet stands ready to join you, they are eager to be back on the offensive."

"They're going to get their chance, all of us will."

"This is a great day Admiral, a new alliance." Stro'kath grinned tremendously wide. "Human strength and Drazi speed, a deadly combination we will soon unleash on our enemies. We will drink to our glory in this battle, either in this life or the next."

"Lets make it this one." Ferguson advised. "I'd like to introduce you to Scotch…"

Fendamir

Contested world

Drazi Space.

"Our hyperspace scouts have confirmed it sir, Drazi ships inbound."

Warmaster Dar'sen kept a straight face. "And the reason they are moving so slowly?"

Captain Ca'ra cleared his throat before continuing. "We detected a group of Earth ships with them, about five hundred vessels along with just over two thousand Drazi ships."

"So our agents in Narn space were right, the humans have sent direct aid to the Drazi." The Warmaster took a sip of water, preferring only the basic rations of his men while on campaign and disdaining the opulent meals other Warmasters enjoyed on their flagships. Even Jha'dur had taken to indulging her comforts on campaign, something that earned his quiet disapproval.

"They approach slowly but steadily Warmaster, they will arrive within the hour."

Dar'sen accepted the information with a nod. "They don't need speed, they have us trapped with no where to go, they can afford to take their time. This is going to take something rather creative to deal with."

"Our other fleets have orders to decline combat with Earth Force sir."

"They did, but not for much longer." Dar'sen answered. "The Imperium is about to make a stand, no more withdrawal, no more retreats. We can't afford to lose more space to our enemies, not if our species is to survive. Nobody won a war by running away."

"So your orders will be to make a stand Warmaster?"

"In effect, yes." Dar'sen confirmed. "Although I certainly won't be staying in place for any longer than necessary. Send the alert across the fleet, prepare fighter wings and assume a balanced formation. If the crews wanted a real test of their skills this will surely be it."

Warmaster Dar'sen was confident in his fleet and had good reason to be, they were the best the Imperium had to offer on any front and with the loss of both the First and Second Strike fleets to Earth Force early in the war Dar'sen's people were the most battle hardened and experienced fighters in the galaxy.

His core fleet, as indeed it had been since before the war, was the Third Strike Fleet. A thousand warships constantly maintained at the highest levels with first call on elite crews and spare parts. They were drilled and trained constantly with daily exercises, regular practice with new fleet tactics and frequent raids against Drazi positions. The regime was intensive and consumed a lot of fuel at a time when the Imperium's reserves were beginning to get dangerously low, but the benefit was obvious and vital.

The other force was the First Line fleet, which technically was an amalgam of ships that had survived the long fighting on the Drazi front. Seven hundred ships strong it was under strength for a main Dilgar fleet but was unusually top heavy with a preponderance of heavy warships instead of the more balanced nature of a fresh fleet. Under Dar'sen's leadership they too had been drilled relentlessly and had seen a lot of action battling at the forefront of any Dilgar counter attack or spoiling action. They had been forged and tempered by combat into a solid and stalwart battle group that was a Strike fleet in all but name, perfectly maintained ships, veteran crews and a unity of purpose and confidence which would see them utilize their skills effectively whatever the odds or opposition.

Like the rest of the Dilgar Navy Dar'sen had been preparing to fight Earth Force and although he hadn't expected to run into human ships fighting with the Drazi his command had been practising the latest tactics and formations designed to defeat the hard fighting Earth vessels. Likewise his ships had been field modified to Jha'dur's latest specifications giving them significantly greater firepower and the ability to really hurt the thick armour of their enemies, although the cost was an increased chance of their overcharged cannons simply exploding.

Unfortunately this was where life became hard for the Warmaster. Against five hundred Earth Force ships he was confident of success, granted the firepower of the human vessels was formidable but with over a three to one advantage, decent firepower of his own and a notable speed and agility advantage his basic plan should be guaranteed to work. He would divide his fleet into task forces and attack quickly from multiple directions splitting the human firepower and beating them through attrition. Losses would likely be high but acceptable for the gain of killing a prime Earth fleet.

The bad news was the Drazi.

Again against a Drazi fleet Dar'sen was not overly worried, he had fought them all his life, he knew how they thought and how to exploit not simply weaknesses in their ships but also weaknesses in their character. He had fought while outnumbered six to one in some early battles and still defeated his enemies with minimal losses. Those days were gone by now, and the new Drazi leader Stro'kath had rebuilt the shattered Drazi fleet in his own image, hard, determined and disciplined. Yet even with such a formidable leader against Dar'sen's combined force Stro'kath would need at least double the number of ships he was bringing to tip the balance of firepower, the nimble Drazi vessels just couldn't match the raw destruction his battle fleet could deliver.

His standard tactic for beating the Drazi was to group his ships and let them come to him, creating a bristling fortress of ships like an island set in the sea with waves bashing and dispersing around it. He would lose ships of course, but even a massive well led Drazi fleet would find it impossible to break his solid formation without taking crippling losses.

Dar'sen's problem lay in the fact that while one tactic or the other worked against their intended opponents, against both enemies at once things got complicated. If he split his force and tried to use speed and agility to beat Earth Force then Stro'kath who was both faster and more agile would isolate each of his battle groups in turn and tear them to pieces. If he grouped his ships to take advantage of their firepower and endurance he would present a perfect target for the human vessels which had both greater firepower and greater endurance.

In effect Dar'sen was taking on an enemy with every possible advantage over him, and what he did here would be the first stand up fight between a combined human and League fleet and a well prepared and trained Dilgar fleet, a signal of how Jha'dur's similar forces would conduct themselves when faced with a similar combined Alliance fleet.

To make matters worse he could not simply withdraw and bide his time. That tactic had worked well on the other front because Jha'dur had a lot of worlds to play with. She could afford to trade distance for time, giving up the bulk of the League planets and essentially retreating faster than Earth could advance.

Dar'sen didn't have the luxury of distance, his current position was a mere two jumps from Omelos, virtually on the doorstep of the Dilgar war machine with only the fortified Tithalis system at his back should he fail here. It had been the situation on the Drazi front since the war began, a precarious balance between preserving his forces and ensuring the Drazi did not mass enough force to break through to his homeworld itself.

They had almost done so nearly a year ago, Stro'kath had taken half of Tithalis and if not for meddling in his government could have bombed Omelos before the battered Dilgar fleets could redeploy to stop him. Since that narrow victory the War Council had invested heavily in fixed defences at Tithalis and Omelos itself, something they didn't really want to do with their preference for mobile warfare but that Dar'sen had lobbied hard for.

The Tithalis defence grid would be a massive obstacle to overcome for this Drazi and Human force, but eventually they would unless Dar'sen could do something about it. The two fleets at his command were the first and ultimately the best defence Omelos had on this front, if anything could weaken the allies enough to give Jha'dur time to counter attack in her own sector it would be the might of the Third Strike fleet and First Line fleet.

If he was lucky he might even live through it.

Combined fleet

Nova Class Dreadnought EAS Charlemagne

Command ship, EA Sixth Fleet.

"All ships have answered Admiral, we're in position and ready to jump."

"We'll wait for word from Stro'kath." Ferguson answered. "Once we're through form up for attack, cruisers forward, light ships on the flank, carriers and missile ships to the rear."

After a pause Commander Griffin nodded. "Aye sir, formation logged in."

Ferguson gave a sideways look to the officer, quickly noting his reluctance. "Something on your mind Tom?"

"No sir." The Commander answered, then after five seconds told the truth. "Actually sir, just one thing. Drazi."

"Go on Tom."

The Commander faced his Admiral with a predictably troubled expression. "I'm just not particularly comfortable acting under Drazi control. I mean this Stro'kath seems a decent leader, but he doesn't know Earth ships or crews. The only people who really know how to fight our way are us, it should be you in command of this mission. Respectfully sir, Earth Force should be in charge."

"Couple of the Joint Chiefs argued the same thing, it was decided that because this is Drazi space and they are contributing the bulk of the forces and supplies to this action a Drazi should be in charge." Ferguson answered. "But notice how General Denisov named Stro'kath as senior officer, not the Drazi political leadership."

"How does that help sir?"

"Because the political leaders are dumb, and this way we don't have to accept any suicidal orders from them, just Stro'kath."

The Commander grunted. "I just can't help thinking the Drazi have been fighting for years and are still right where they were the month the war began, while our ships have liberated almost all the League in five months."

"The Drazi now are different to the ones of even just a few months ago thanks to Stro'kath." Ferguson stated. "They took such a beating last year they still haven't recovered from it, that is where we come in. This fleet gives Stro'kath the extra power he needs not only to centre his military forces and give them a clean victory his people so desperately need, we also let him operate without worrying about politics."

"Last question sir, do you trust him?"

"Totally." Ferguson answered. "He knows how to win battles, and crucially knows how not to lose. He is aware of his weaknesses, he his aware of his enemy and has a lot of experience fighting the local Warmaster. He knows this system in detail and the nature of the fleet we are going up against. Even if this wasn't a Drazi operation I'd support putting him in command of any force sent to fight Dar'sen out here. We have to use every asset we have to its full potential, not like we can head home for repairs if we get our butts kicked."

That was true, the fleet was further from home than any other EA fleet and while the Drazi military and civilians had welcomed them warmly the political establishment was decidedly less enthusiastic. They could make life hard for the humans out here but with the support of the surviving Drazi fleet they had accepted the deployment. If the Sixth Fleet could deliver a victory it would completely win over the Drazi population at which point the Earth contingent would be certain of whatever support it asked for or else the politicians would be seen as dishonouring fellow warriors.

"Admiral, secure transmission coming through." Griffin noted quickly. "It's the go order."

Ferguson straightened his collar, determined to look smart in the face of the enemy.

"Spin up jump engines, make the transition as soon as we are ready."

"Aye sir, system on line, mirrors aligned, creating vortex."

"Saints preserve strangers in a strange land." Ferguson muttered quietly before focusing entirely on the developing situation. "Action stations, launch fighters and form up for advance."

"Confirm enemy contacts, Dilgar ships dead ahead, four hundred thousand kilometres!"

"Set speed to Dreadnought flank, Starfuries on point, hold station by the fleet." Ferguson barked out. "Order missile ships to arm for saturation fire and authorise arming of nuclear warheads."

The hard edged Earth Fleet set itself up quickly, converging into a wall of heavy ships stretching two thousand miles from side to side, close enough to overlap their fire but far enough apart so a large nuclear strike could only destroy one ship at a time. The companion Starfuries streamed forward from the rear deployed carriers, lapping around the grey coloured battleships to enhance their deficient anti fighter defences and keep them safe from Thorun strikes, the interceptor heavy Corvettes holding station to do the same.

On all sides around the core of the Sixth fleet Stro'kath deployed his attack ships, a mix of hardened veterans that had fought with him for years and new ships fresh from the yards of Zhabar. Unlike earlier battles these new crews, while untested, had been trained and educated by Stro'kath's deputies in how to fight a war properly instead of having their heads filled with dreams of glory but no practical way to attain it.

The combined fleet set its course for the colony, or at least what was left of it, while the Dilgar fleet remained stationary blocking its path.

"Jha'dur was right, those human ships are plain and ugly, but by the gods all those guns are intimidating."

Dar'sen chuckled. "We need to copy that design, such a simple concept. We should have thought of it first."

"Enemy fleet is on a direct course and accelerating slowly this way." Ca'ra reported.

"Are they staying together?"

"Yes sir, Drazi ships are matching the speed of the human ships."

"That's Stro'kath keeping his ships in check." Dar'sen offered approval of his enemy. "Good for him, but it does not help us much at all. We need to try and split those forces and deal with them both individually. Drazi first, we'll draw them out beyond the range of the human ships, destroy them, then deal with Earth Force at our leisure."

"Feigned retreat sir?"

"That would have been my first choice, it worked well in the past." The Warmaster confirmed. "But not today, Stro'kath is too wily for such a trick to work. No, we're going to have to give him a real target, a real vulnerability to exploit and hope we can beat him before he can really hurt us."

"And the humans?"

"With the Drazi gone we can just wear them down as we practised." Dar'sen planned. "Until then we'll keep them occupied with our fighter squadrons, prevent those damn Starfuries tangling with us."

"Detailing targets to wing leaders sir." Ca'ra set to work.

"Good, then prepare to move our forces to a new sector on the flanks, slowly at first. Let's see if they follow us."

The Dilgar fleet growled to life, the columns and groupings of warships turning away from the advance and clearing the path, moving swiftly but slow enough for the Drazi to race forward and catch them if they wanted. Dar'sen gave Stro'kath a golden opportunity to attack his flank as he redeployed, a chance no Drazi would pass up.

"They are still in formation." Ca'ra reported with annoyance. "Still on course for Fendamir."

"Congratulations to Stro'kath, keeping his subordinates in line like that takes iron discipline and massive force of will. Every other Drazi fleet would have broken up to either attack or follow its original orders." Dar'sen acknowledged. "So this is the new Drazi fleet, the product of one man and one vision."

"So if we remove the man, and remove that vision…"

"Then the Drazi fleet goes back to the ragged force it has always been." Dar'sen acknowledged. "He's on one of those ships, we should try and destroy it as a priority." He paused. "Along with those vessels, Earth Force missile ships and carriers. Remove them and we deprive Earth Force of its scariest ranged weapons and greatly reduce its fighter strength in future battles."

"Warmaster, the planetary Governor is requesting direct support."

"Inform him he is in no danger."

"Sir, the enemy fleet is heading straight for him, they could wipe out his forces from orbit."

"And in so doing become vulnerable to counter attack from us." Dar'sen pointed out. "No, it's a bluff to draw us into their guns, the planet is safe for now."

"Respectfully Warmaster, how can you be sure?"

"Because the war has changed. The objective of that fleet isn't to take the system, it is to destroy us. We saw it before, Earth Force has passed up chances to quickly seize territory in favour of seeking battle with a concentration of Dilgar ships. They don't want to chase after us and take us one at a time, they want to suck us into one titanic battle where their heavy ships and guns will have the advantage. Most of the League still seems to think this is a war of conquest and liberation, or our great Council leaders consider this a war or survival and destiny. But the truth, the real face of this war that the real leaders understand, it's annihilation. We're fighting to kill every ship and soldier that opposes us, and so are the humans. That is what makes this war different, that is what changed between fighting the League and now fighting Earth. We can only win by killing everything, there is no other option anymore."

He looked sternly at the tactical display, he had grasped the fundamentals of the war much as Stro'kath had done but didn't especially like it. He sought no pleasure in utter extermination, the turn the war had taken was of Jha'dur's making and the necessity of finding any way of beating the massive destructive abilities of the human fleets. It did not sit well with his values, but there was no alternative. It was kill or be killed.

"Signal all ships, we're going to attack."

In a precision display the Dilgar ships turned around and orientated themselves toward the allied fleet. Distant sunlight ran over their hulls like liquid fire blazing from every curve and line as they began their advance, gathering speed and spreading out to engulf the mass of dark and light grey ships in their jaws.

"Sir, missile command reports they can engage, but the enemy ships are too spread out for an effective alpha strike."

"Understood." Ferguson nodded. "Have him hold fire and prepare for anti fighter duty instead, it'll be a nightmare to get replacement nukes out here, we'll save them until we really need them."

"Drazi ships are preparing to engage, they're clearing our gunsights."

"Thank you Stro'kath." Ferguson grinned, the cloud of allied ships separating left and right to give the human fleet an uninterrupted shot at the Dilgar ships now approaching from the forward quarter.

"Message from the Warleader sir," Griffin relayed. "He wishes us good hunting and we are clear to fire at will."

"Acknowledge that signal and change position, order all ships to cut engines and line up on the enemy."

The Earth fleet went dark, its large and inefficient drives stopping and allowing inertia to continue the forward motion of the assembled ships. Using control thrusters the massive vessels began to rotate on all three axis' to bring their maximum firepower to bear. With no concerns about aerodynamics or gravity it didn't matter which direction or angle the ships actually faced relative to their travel, and so like slow motion jumbo Starfuries they turned to engage.

The Charlemagne rumbled a little as all the turrets moved at once, the guns on the far side turning inward to fire between the turrets facing the enemy and maximise the considerable power a Dreadnought could deploy, a tactic matched by the rest of the capital ships while the smaller cruisers aligned to show their upper profile to the Dilgar, elevating their heavy dorsal batteries and bow guns to likewise achieve the optimum first strike.

"New signal from the Warleader." Griffin smiled a little. "He says he's looking forward to this."

Ferguson smiled. "Me too. Open fire."

For a second nothing happened as the final details fed through the computers and the order to fire was relayed. Then like prism the fleet burst into multicoloured light, mixtures of slow moving blue and green plasma and near instant laser and particle beams. Less visible but just as deadly were the rail guns, conserved by their crews until the enemy approached to close range so they did not waste he hard to replace munitions by missing.

The front line of the Dilgar attack was hammered brutally by the strike, the heavy ships blasted into chunks or carved to slices while the smaller ships were turned into fragments of unrecognisable junk. The dispersed formation meant the barrage was less effective than on other occasions were massed Earth ships had met closely packed Dilgar formations, but casualties among Dar'sen's vanguard were still significant.

"Break formation!" The Warmaster ordered curtly. "Flow around and push the engines to emergency power, get us clear!"

The Dilgar ships turned sharply in multiple directions, whichever course led them out of the way of the human guns the fastest. They splayed apart like a waterfall cascading onto rocks with splashes of warships flying everywhere, chased by tracing gunfire as the Earth Force ships maintained their defence.

With the Dilgar fleet losing cohesion Stro'kath seized the opportunity, attacking at point blank range and mixing in with the Dilgar. The guns of Dar'sen's fleet were disturbingly accurate, the gunners picking off Sunhawks in single hits with their enhanced weapons and striking human vessels even at long range, but this did not deter Stro'kath who committed his forces fully, chasing the withdrawing Dilgar and bringing down ship after ship.

The decking jolted beneath Dar'sen's feet jolted as something hit, by the feel of the impact a Drazi weapon rather than the more damaging human shots. His gun crews worked furiously, swinging the long barrelled turrets back and forth as they prioritised and engaged multiple targets at once. A pair of Sunhawks over ran their opponent, easily destroying a damaged frigate and finding themselves parallel to the flagship. Both ships were quickly destroyed by the side guns earning a moment of pride from the Warmaster. He remained confident his crews were the best trained in the navy.

"Enemy ships engaging on all sides!" Ca'ra warned

"Keep us going!" Dar'sen commanded, wincing as a group of EA Dreadnoughts completely annihilated three full pentacans in as many seconds. "Detach fighters, go for the missile ships!"

From among the fleeing Dilgar warships squadrons of Thoruns suddenly snapped around and changed direction, sweeping back towards the Earth forces and ignoring the Drazi, who couldn't care less anyway. Interceptor fire greeted them warmly as Starfuries moved up to intercept.

"Drazi ships are trying to get between our forces!" Ca'ra said loudly.

"Keep going!" Dar'sen replied. "Just a little more, few more seconds."

He watched the human fleet receding on the tactical display, the Drazi ships still heavily engaged with the two Dilgar forces still badly spread out and weakened.

"Come on Stro'kath, stay with me."

"We're out of effective range for the human ships!" Ca'ra called out.

"About damn time!" Dar'sen huffed. "Reform the fleet, all ships reform and come about! Close ranks and give those Drazi the thrashing they deserve!"

It had hurt, but it had worked. In the blink of an eye the panicked confusion of the Dilgar fleets gave way to the steel resolve they were known for. Seemingly random groups of ships that had no obvious connection to each other suddenly made a few minute course changes and created a fresh and coordinated pentacan which then rounded on its pursuers. The hunters quickly became the hunted.

A feigned retreat would not have worked, Dar'sen needed to make his fleet act like it was falling apart, battered by human fire and beset by the Drazi. The only way he could do that was to let his enemy bombard him, let them see his fleet bleeding and then pounce. With the Drazi among them it could easily have become a real rout and everything depended on his crews having the skill and clarity to hold the illusion together and turn the tables immediately.

Dar'sen had drawn the two fleets apart, separated the Drazi from Earth Force and no one had even recognised it had happened. Now it was time to put the rest of his plan into action.

Stro'kath did not panic. His expression did not change, remaining thoughtful and calm as ever despite now finding himself surrounded and badly outgunned. Inwardly he cursed himself for straying too far from the protective cover of the EA guns and praised Dar'sen for such a masterfully played tactic. Then he decided on a little twist of his own.

"All ships will come about and retreat at once."

"Warleader?"

"Fall back at full speed to the human fleet, right now!" Stro'kath demanded. "We can't win, withdraw at once!"

The orders went out and the nimble Drazi ships turned tail, launching a few missiles to delay close pursuit as they dodged past the closing jaws of the Dilgar trap. Some ships fell, some were too deep into the trap or too damaged to keep up and the Dilgar took them, but most escaped under a hail of fire with the Dilgar in hot pursuit.

"Wait, wait here!" Dar'sen quickly commanded. "They're drawing us into the guns of the human fleet."

Under his orders the Dilgar ships slowed and altered course, letting the Drazi go.

"Stro'kath learns fast, he just tried to do to us what we did to him." The Warmaster watched the small vessels pull away, rows of human ships daring him to give chase.

"No, this is going to require something different, reform into fleet groupings and give me a little time to think."

"The Dilgar have ceased their pursuit."

"Of course they have, this is Dar'sen!" Stro'kath grinned. "I'd be disappointed if he walked into such a blatant trap."

"Shall we reform and try again?"

"No, slow us down and resume position alongside the Earth ships." The Warleader ordered. "Dar'sen is no doubt watching this. He has tested our strength, then our resolve, then our discipline and I'll bet he's swearing at the quality he's found."

Stro'kath felt a glee he hadn't in many years. He was a born warrior and loved to fight, but most of his recent engagements had been desperate battles against the odds or somehow derailed by politics. Today however he could actually appreciate what it was to simply lead brave soldiers into battle against a worthy enemy. He'd almost forgotten how good that was, the battle was well balanced with either side having the potential to win a great victory. The deciding factor was going to be the choices made by the leaders of either force. It was perfect.

"Sensors show more Dilgar fighters concentrating on the human fleet."

"Raise Admiral Ferguson, ask if he needs our help."

After a few moments the answer came through.

"He reports all is well, and his pilots need something to brag about."

Stro'kath laughed deeply, greatly enjoying the company of his new friends and allies.

"And to think our politicians wanted to ally with the Hurr!" He chuckled more quietly. "It seems we've finally found a race we can be privileged to fight side by side with."

"Yes sir. Wait, movement in the Dilgar fleet."

"And we both have an enemy worthy of our time and effort. Ready the fleet to attack, nobody moves without my personal order."

The green and red ships advanced again, some showing signs of damage and passing by the floating wrecks of their sisters. They approached steadily, unshaken by the might facing them and confident in their skills.

"I want the Line fleet to break on this side." Dar'sen pointed. "Pass behind the human ships and strafe them, do not stop or slow down."

Captain Ca'ra expertly relayed the information.

"The Strike fleet will pass on the other side close to the Drazi and fire on them, then we regroup on the far side of the enemy out of range and see what happens."

Again the fleets closed, the Dilgar splitting into two prongs before opening fire, racing past the gauntlet of guns the allied fleets unleashed in their direction. The Earth Force ships held steady, interceptors dealing with most of the incoming fire while the heavier guns of the large ships made reply, cutting down dozens of ships as they passed. Again some shots made it through and some human ships crackled with flames and uncontrolled releases of plasma and energy, but on the whole it was the Dilgar who took the worst of it.

Their fighter squadrons were likewise in serious trouble. Their speed and the new strafing tactics meant the Starfuries couldn't get to grip with them on their own most ideal terms, but the human fighters were still inflicting nasty losses while largely evading the Thorun attacks themselves. A few squadrons slowed to engage closely and where that happened they did destroy a larger number of human craft, even some of the new Nova Furies, but those squadrons also became targets for interceptors and roving Earth Force fighter groups and few made it out to safety alive.

Other groups roared in against the missile ships of the Sixth fleet, very well aware of how deadly they could be. In some smaller engagements Dilgar pilots had found great success closing in and firing on the missile magazines, their bolt cannons punching through the thin armour and detonating the fuel held within the missile bodies in a catastrophic chain reaction.

Earth Force had also learned from this, and while some officers had grumbled at losing a battery of anti ship missiles they had all agreed the ships needed some extra anti fighter devices.

The cruisers responded to the fighter attacks with a handful of these new missiles, each the size of a much larger sixty metre long nuclear missile and a lot bigger than any fighter. The weapons travelled the short distance towards the incoming fighters before the nose cone split apart and expelled thousands of small charges no bigger than a large hand grenade. Each of these black balls spread out in a cloud covering a huge area in front of the incoming fighters giving them no where to turn and no time to reverse course.

The detonation of several thousand small explosions looked much more spectacular than it should have, showering shrapnel and detritus over a huge area like a million shotgun blasts. While harmless to ships the shrapnel was deadly against the fighters, and the sheer scale and volume of the attack swept scores of fighters out of the sky.

At the other end of the battle the Drazi again held position, firing on the passing Dilgar ships along with support from Earth Force. One of the ships ahead of Dar'sen rolled over and over, a quarter of its hull mangled by a salvo of human plasma fire and its writhing form still beset by lighter yellow bursts of Drazi particle cannons.

Some of the lighter Dilgar ships tried to fly between the human formations, relying on speed to avoid damage with mixed success. Those that lasted longer than a minute or two were chased down by either Rail gun frigates or Drazi ships detached to keep the Cruisers and Dreadnoughts free of harassment while they concentrated on the bulk of the Dilgar forces.

The attack lasted a few minutes, but it took less than one before Dar'sen knew it wasn't going to cause the two sides of the enemy force to split.

"We're wasting ships here, this isn't going achieve anything." He growled. "Recall all units."

"Issuing the recall sir."

"If I just had one more fleet, just one more I could break them." He sighed. "But we can't do it, not at an acceptable cost, and not with the stakes as high as they are if we fail."

"Shall I request reinforcements sir?"

"No, there is no need. Jha'dur has already assigned every spare ship for the counter attack, we're on our own."

He examined the enemy force carefully.

"We can't overpower the human ships, but they can't catch us. The Drazi can catch us, but don't have the force to overwhelm us. Stalemate."

"Until they jump to Omelos and we can't stop them."

"They have to go through Tithalis first, if they bypass it they leave themselves open to an attack on their rear, or worse I could go and tear my way through to the Drazi homeworld while their fleet is occupied. No, they'll have to secure Tithalis first, and against both this fleet and the defence grid even the humans will have to be careful."

"Are we retreating to Tithalis then sir?"

Dar'sen nodded reluctantly. "We have no choice, we'll have to fall back until after Jha'dur launches her attack. When that is done we will get priority, some extra ships, and then we begin a real counter attack." He shrugged. "Or she'll fail and it won't matter anymore because the main human fleets will have a clear run at Omelos anyway."

"Our fleet is gathered sir."

"Then you have your orders. Open jump points, we'll have to let the garrison fend for itself. It won't be the first time. This fleet must survive, the war might depend on it."

"Well that didn't take long." Commander Griffin frowned. "Remaining Dilgar ships are retreating."

"Makes sense I think." Ferguson agreed. "This whole battle felt like a test."

"For our new combined fleet sir?"

"For the Dilgar." Ferguson corrected. "They were seeing how well they did against us."

"Not great I'd say."

"No, but a lot better than they did the last time we fought a real battle against them." The Admiral said. "Did you notice some of the tactics and formations they were using? Brand new and designed to lessen the effect of our massed fire. Command will be interested in seeing that, better get a download through secure channels as soon as possible."

"I'll compile the log now sir." He replied. "Message coming through, audio from Warleader Stro'kath."

"Patch it through." Ferguson smiled. "I bet he's happy."

The braying laugh told the Admiral he was correct, and he couldn't resist a chuckle of his own.

"Admiral! We drove them off!" Stro'kath cheered. "A great victory!"

"We did well Warleader, though I'd be happier if we'd gutted those fleets before they ran."

"Dar'sen is a canny opponent, he will not commit to an intense battle unless he can win. We must make him believe he can to draw him in, or just push him back to Omelos where he has no choice but to fight us."

"The Sixth fleet will be ready to test that theory Warleader. Omelos or bust."

The Drazi laughed again. "Yes, yes, we'll have them in our sights soon enough. But we have taken this world back Admiral, that is good enough work for today, the first real victory my people have had in months."

"A well deserved one too Warleader."

"Dar'sen will be back, we can expect many raids as we consolidate." Stro'kath warned. "But that is beside the point, together we have earned victory Admiral. Both our worlds will celebrate tonight."

"I am sure they will." Ferguson agreed. "And that reminds me, I still owe you a bottle of Scotch."

"Sounds like a warriors drink." Stro'kath approved. "We shall toast our victory with this Scotch."

"It will be an honour." Ferguson nodded. "Hopefully the first of many."

EAS Illustrious

Avenger class Carrier

Task Force 28

Hyperspace.

In the months since war had erupted the routine had become more of a ritual, a sequence of observations and nods to fate designed to bring luck and stave off bad fortune. Mankind liked to believe it had surpassed superstition and look with fond bemusement at races like the Markab where the turn of every day is like a religious experience, a reason to praise the divine and calmly ignore the fact of physics which demarks the light and dark. Humans smile indulgently when their allies proceed with their own prayers, and while some among Earth Force still hold religious beliefs the elite of humanity were largely indifferent.

After six months of war everything was very different. Each of the pilots, soldiers and warship crews knew in explicit detail what was keeping them alive, the thickness of armour on their dreadnoughts, the agility of their fighters or the unending training of the Drill instructors. Survival was a matter of trust, technology and training as clear and scientific as the progress of time itself.

And yet despite that certainty of knowledge, despite that enlightenment and apparent understanding there had grown a culture of superstition. Soldiers went to war in the same pair of boots with the same well worn trinkets as their first drop. Crew members would enter their duty stations only from the right side. Fighter pilots would take photographs of their dear ones in their pockets or fill a flask with alcohol and leave it in the mess to toast live upon their return.

This was no different on the Illustrious, and while in the most intelligent terms it was ridiculous no one dared stop doing it, and after all these months the rituals had become increasingly complicated and necessary, rivalling the incense burning and six hour chants the Markab demanded.

David Sinclair had no real position on the matter, he would watch his squadron doing whatever it was they did with interest but no criticism. He watched three of his team rolling in zero gravity, insisting on making three full spins before suiting up for action. It was insane, yet Sinclair allowed it because it cleared their minds and focused their purpose.

Ultimately this was why the little idiosyncrasies continued to exist. It was better for them to do something foolish, something that meant something to them now before action then have their mind clouded by concern once battle was joined. There was probably some deep seated psychological reason, some throwback to the days of tribal conquest and raising voices to pagan gods, but it did not matter, what mattered was that it seemed to work.

Sinclair did not have a ritual, at least not in his eyes, all he clung to was a family photograph, that of his wife Gemma and two sons, Jeffrey and Malcolm, both of whom were now apparently much taller than they had been when the photo was taken. He was expecting a holo image of them, but getting anything out as far as the front was very difficult. Earth tried to keep the mail flowing or open time on the comms channels for personal use, recognising the importance of such things to morale, but it was never quite enough.

He hadn't spoken to his family in four months, and he had to admit it was becoming a great burden on his mind. He kept the picture close at all times, it was just one of many he held on to but it was in his mind the best.

He placed it in his pocket and pressed it against his chest, shutting his eyes for a moment to dwell on the warm memory of heart and home, then making his way to the briefing hall of the carrier and the job he had to do, the calling that was his to fulfil.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, settle down please." He took to the podium in front of the hall, a rising stair of desks and seats crammed with four dozen officers in blue and grey. They looked towards him on cue, their chatter dying down as he steadied himself and locked his feet in the fabric hoops on the floor to prevent him floating away.

"Well as you can guess this is no pleasure cruise, we're here to do a job." He announced to the pilots, the full assembled fighter wing of the warship. "That job is Tirrith."

Behind a massive cinema sized display screen lit up in bright colours, highlighting a planet surrounded by circular lines showing the orbits of various interesting artefacts.

"Tirrith is a major Dilgar world." Sinclair read from his notes. "Heavily defended with a strong garrison, sizeable fleet and concentric defences."

As he spoke he highlighted portions of the display.

"The main facility is here, a major construction site for Thorun Dartfighters, which as we all know are real pains in the butt."

There were a few laughs, but not many.

"The facility is in orbit, and while intelligence shows there are more on the surface and dotted on outer moons the biggest is right here." He pointed to the map. "Right in the heart of their defences, protected by a starbase, satellites and minefields. They have it buttoned up tight secure from any attack."

He smiled.

"Except from us, we're going to blow it up."

The room did not make much reply, awaiting patiently for the Commander to explain the strategy.

"The Dilgar set up the defences here before we entered the war." Sinclair continued. "They are designed to hold off a major fleet attack, to pin down and flatten League heavy ships or outgun smaller Drazi warships. What they aren't suitable for is stopping a mass fighter attack, which is what we will exploit."

He zoomed in on different sections of the map.

"The Task Forces has two Carriers and two Dreadnoughts, a total of a hundred and forty four fighters. One third are Nova Furies and our job will be to provide active fighter cover for the remaining units of Tiger furies who will be engaging the defences."

The colours on the map shifted, showing waves and squadron numbers flowing around the Dilgar defences.

"Our job is to pick off satellite weapons and mines, opening the way for our heavy ships to push into range and destroy the Dilgar base and orbital factory. That is all, then we withdraw. This is a raid, not an invasion."

He returned the screen to its default position.

"While we are engaging a scout cruiser will be surveying this system in detail, the Abbai cruiser Syontar to be precise. Its mission will be to determine the nature of the Dilgar presence here and gauge the suitability of this system for attack. Depending on what they find, we might be back here next month with a full invasion fleet. But until then, this is just a raid."

He held onto the podium for a moment, considering his next words.

"This world has been under occupation for over a year. Tiree was under Dilgar control for a couple of weeks and we've all seen what happened there."

He spoke of the Markab colony, the first world to be liberated by Earth Force on the initial day of the war. News crews had gone in after the landing and were given free access to the internment camps the Dilgar had set up next to strategic targets to discourage orbital strikes. The Markab had been living shields, and worse were subject to brutality and torture beyond the telling of words. Just two weeks of suffering and the result had turned the stomach of the hardest soldier and war reporter. The situation on Tirrith was unfathomable.

"What I saw on the news and in reports, it stays forever." Sinclair said plainly. "The planet we are fighting over today and that we will liberate in the near future has endured more than we can imagine. We are fighting for ground and for lives that have known nothing but horror for long months, our victory will bring these places that one step nearer to freedom."

He folded up his notes.

"Eliminating the factory will be a major blow to Dilgar supplies and make it extremely hard for the navy to replenish their fighter losses once the offensive begins. This is more than a raid, this is the opening moves of Operation Downfall. This is the first light of liberty these people will have seen, when that station goes up everyone, everyone on Tirrith will see it. They will see it and they will know that they are not alone anymore, and that we are on our way."

The assembled squadrons agreed quietly, nodding or blinking in understanding, the power of their actions going beyond the physical hurt it would give the Dilgar. They brought more than death, they also brought hope.

"One final thought." Sinclair spoke. "This system is where the EAS Persephone was destroyed trying to protect a refugee fleet from a Dilgar massacre. There are parts of her still out there, and all we do in this system will be under her eyes. Make her proud people and do justice to her memory. We launch in half an hour, good luck to you all."

The Carrier was a simple design, it's central core dominated by a large hangar split into two, both feeding left or right into the two dozen individual launch bays on the flanks of the ship. The arrangement allowed for the rapid deployment of the entire airwing at once, though recovery tended to take considerably longer. The Avenger was a combat proven design incorporating the lessons of Earths early wars. She was an old ship, one of the first of humanity's space fleet yet still had her place in the line of battle.

The Illustrious herself was no stranger to war, her hull patched and covered over where she had been pounded by Dilgar frigates during a minor battle near Altair. She had been ambushed escorting a convoy, and while not set up to fight warships alone the Illustrious had nobly placed herself between the enemy ships and the convoy.

By good luck a cruiser group had jumped out during the battle and destroyed the enemy raiding force, the carrier herself not having anything more than basic defensive guns had been doomed but had allowed the convoy to escape. As it was the ship was saved though heavily damaged and like the rest of the taskforce was fresh from the repair yards and ready for action.

Alongside her was the Hiryu, a fellow carrier of notable reputation, and the two Dreadnoughts Gustavus Adolphus and the famous EAS Nemesis. Supplementing the force was half a dozen Hyperion cruisers, a heavy escort of Corvettes and hanging slightly back were a trio of Markab heavy cruisers supporting the by now legendary Abbai cruiser Syontar. Captain Cashic of that cruiser had directed her vessel and its important cargo all the way to Earth and was highly respected among all branches of the human military. The advanced sensors of her ship would scan the system while the human ships played merry hell with the Dilgar defences, and then in a couple of weeks time would do the same thing at Balos.

Finally, and as a guarantee of victory or flight was a pair of Sagittarius missile cruisers brimming with nuclear missiles.

Sinclair donned his flightsuit, comfortably fastening the G-suit made with the latest of technologies and techniques Earth had to offer. The suit itself could allow the pilot to pull twenty gravities without even noticing, yet in combat the Starfury was capable of so much more, limited only by the pilot. Drone craft had been tested to try and overcome that weak element but had never proven successful, and a strong lobby to ban research on artificial intelligence was severely hampering future experiments.

The rest of his squadron were also dressing up, following his example with purpose and pride. Even the apparent new guys, replacements for losses at Markab were by now cool and calm veterans with many hours of flight time under their belts. Bill Hague, so unsure and nervous at the start of the war was now one of the most lethal pilots in Earth Force, a quick study and dilligent flyer he had picked up on the techniques he had been shown and was as good a pilot as any in the squadron.

His ever trusted second, Lieutenant Commander April Green was the first to be ready, making the bulky flight suit look like it had been tailored for her in an Italian fashion house. Shockingly attractive, intelligent, a lead singer in the Central Band of Earth Force and one of the top three pilots in the Liberation Navy, she was far too good to be true in Sinclair's objective opinion. She tied back her black hair and gave him a quick smile.

"Thorun factory then?"

"Biggest one in the Imperium." He confirmed. "Rumour has it that they are about to roll out a new type of fighter. If we take it now we'll never have to worry about that."

"I bet there are plenty of fighters in the air." She considered. "Ferry crews mostly, but I'd put good money on meeting a few real squadrons."

"Guess we better keep our eyes open then, might be a little fun on the way."

He grabbed his helmet from the locker and closed the door, his eyes lingering on another photo of his family for an instant before turning to his second.

"Ready?"

She gave him a sideways look. "Why do you always ask that just before we go do something really stupid?"

"Tradition." He shrugged. "Come on, let's get it over with."

With the rest of the squadron they left their locker room and made their way through the ship to the hangar, which was barely a few doors distant. Above the doorway to the hangar was the crest for the Illustrious, a trio of trumpets surmounted by a crown. It was the same crest ships of this name had borne for centuries, proclaiming their mission and determination to see their enemies fail. The pilots touched the crest as they went by, a mark of respect for the ship they were on and perhaps for some it was talisman for luck. Sinclair, practical as he was, still touched the lacquered wood as he passed beneath it and headed for his fighter.

The Starfuries were lined up in the metal hangar, ground crews detaching the umbillical pipes and removing the last safeties from the systems. Closest to the door was the red marked craft that Sinclair flew himself, a fighter that was well known to the enemy by reputation, which was both a blessing and a curse.

He locked his helmet to his shoulders and climbed up, the canopy held aloft like the jaws of some metal beast welcoming him into its maw. Enough fighters had grinning shark mouths to assure Sinclair his thought was not one he alone held.

The crew chief helped him into the restraints, strapping him firmly into the upright position and making sure the oxygen feeds were properly connected. Sinclair could feel his anticipation growing, the mix of excitement and fear that assaulted the nerves of every man or woman before the hour came where they faced their next test.

With a last tap of luck the chief left, taking away the ladder and floating for the door. Sinclair dropped the canopy, sealing with a hiss and activating, the myriad of computers and displays informing him all was well. A few seconds later he was moving, the cradle sliding with a jolt towards the launch bays as the carrier powered up for the jump to normal space and the coming fire.

He summoned the image of the ship's crest, and beneath it the motto of the vessel that hung above the hangar. It was an old quote from centuries ago, another time and another war yet it summed up his view of this current conflict so perfectly it was slightly eerie. It was a collection of words to live by, and he considered making it his new squadron motto if he could.

"You do your worst, and we shall do our best."

The Dilgar were on full alert, they were not expecting an attack but were prepared none the less. Picquet ships cruised the edges of the system while fighter units coasted back and forth around the ship yards, stations and the large fighter assembly stations. Deeper in system the guard fleet was running a combat drill, practising to repel an Earth Force invasion and as such wholly unprepared when their opponents suddenly made an appearance for real.

The Earth Force task group arrived in the space of a few moments, the jump points opening at well defined locations far enough apart to be safe but close enough so the fleet could instantly form its battle deployment. The Carriers lingered at the back while the heavier ships set course for the primary target, simultaneously the League ships deployed closer to one of the nearby moons using its mass to shelter from casual scans and investigate Tirrith.

The grey wall in front of Sinclair vanished, snapped up into the recesses of the Carriers hull and showing the glorious stretch of space touching infinity beyond. There was some debate about launching fighters in hyperspace of not, the more modern ships could do so with impunity but on the old Avenger Carriers it was considered safer to wait until after they made the jump.

The magnetic rails threw the fighter out, the engines engaging automatically as soon as it was clear. Sinclair wheeled the nimble craft about and checked his systems, all reading in the green and ready for action. In the few seconds it took to line up on the target and set his speed the rest of the Ghostriders had fallen in with him, assuming attack positions with all the precision and speed they were famous for. Silently they pulled away from the heavy warships and took the lead, older Tiger Furies gathering behind them with wings laden down with missiles of various descriptions.

"Ghosts, hostiles on the way, three squadrons at eleven high." Sinclair rattled the warning, not bothering much with formality, simply barking the facts and doing so in the most timely and efficient way he could. "Banshee Squadron, stay with the strike wings, Raptors break with us and engage incoming targets."

Engines blazed as the human fighters took to their missions, Raptor squadron sweeping around to join forces with Sinclair's unit and intercept the numerically superior Thorun group. Sensors showed more on the way, but rather than waiting for their comrades to strike in one large force these squadrons had rushed headlong into action. They were rookies, and even outnumbered the two squadrons of Nova Furies barely broke a sweat.

The Thoruns fired first, expending their initial charge of bolt fire too far away to be useful against the agile furies. Like their mythical sisters the Furies dropped on the Dilgar fighters, cutting through their formation and forcing a close range melee that favoured the human craft. The massacre was total, with the veteran Starfuries barely needing to slow down.

"We're clear." April confirmed. "Reading more enemy squadrons, they're coming in piecemeal as well."

"Can't they see coming in small groups is going to get them killed?" Hague asked with confusion.

"Well don't bloody tell them!" April chortled. "Makes our job easier!"

There were a few laughs as the squadron reformed.

"Just rookies." Sinclair said flatly. "Probably never even seen action, this is probably where they train their squadrons."

"Easy pickings." April figured. "I might get over a hundred on my tally, at last."

"Yeah, only half way to matching the boss!" Hague grinned.

"Not a competition people." Sinclair reminded them sternly. "Rookies or not they have guns and they are a threat, don't take chances."

"Yes sir." Hague replied.

"Sure thing." April added. "So which lucky squadron is next?"

"That one." Sinclair picked a unit which had at least some cohesion. "Move in and engage by flights, quick and clean. Go."

There were a lot of Dilgar fighters as may be expected from a place dedicated to building fighters, the sky was buzzing with them and yet more launched every few minutes from the stations and factories. However like the first squadrons these follow up units showed a dangerous lack of co-ordination and a confused central command.

A skilled commander would have at once tried to swarm the Tiger Furies, the older model fighters systematically destroying the fixed defences while the warships slowly moved up into combat range. Some of the Thoruns did, moving individually or in small groups towards the hordes of Tiger Furies only to be cut down by the well organised human escorts of often the Tigers themselves.

Most of the Dilgar however made for the human warships, ignoring the real threat represented by the Tigers and aiming for the glory of bringing down one of the human heavy warships. They swarmed forward, straight into the teeth of the massed interceptor batteries thrown out by the cruisers and escort ships. It was a woeful sight, scores of Dilgar craft swiped aside needlessly as they flew straight and level at the human fleet, nothing more than a turkey shoot.

It was not just the lives and machines, these craft were an important part of the Dilgar counter attack which was being prepared in utmost secret. Their loss so easily and so pointlessly would be sure to throw the architect of the plan into a fury.

The warships of the Dilgar guard fleet were likewise compromised, turning hard and accelerating to try and catch the human fleet. They were numerous but larger of small or old design, nothing bigger than a light cruiser. The handful that were close to the factory offered battle bravely, but the pair of Earth Force Dreadnought scattered them into component parts within six seconds of the fight beginning.

"Break right!" Sinclair snapped, side slipping across several hundred yards and halting dead right behind a Thorun. On his order Hague rolled away to the right, clearing the leaders gunsights and letting Sinclair turn the enemy fighter into a storm of flickering plasma.

"Better than average." Hague said with mild relief. "Thanks boss."

"Some of these units are veterans, instructors maybe." Sinclair growled at the guess. "Be very careful."

The Dilgar were everywhere, swarming over the Starfury lines trying to overwhelm them, not realising that by closing the range they were giving the human pilots exactly what they wanted. Sinclair nudged his fighter out of the way as a trio of Thoruns tried to take him head on, all guns blazing. H rose out of the way, grey and red hull reflecting the light of the passing fire and responded in kind, a single long burst striking down all three enemies.

Everywhere there was movement, cross winged shapes or trident darts flicking across his vision trailing bright blue or glowing red. One of the Tiger furies was limping out of formation trailing fuel from a shattered engine, elsewhere a Thorun minus a wing engine rolled over and over at full speed wildly out of control. He watched in the distance as one of the neighbouring fighters from the Banshees was cought out by a pair of experienced Thoruns, the two dart fighters sweeping in from opposite directions and taking him totally by surprise. The pilot ejected, his pod flying clear of the wrecked craft, but the reprieve was just temporary. Sinclair watched in bitter anger as the Dilgar pilots destroyed the helpless cockpit module before seeking some more worthy targets. Sinclair decided to give them their wish.

"Hague, form up, two contacts ahead, we're going for them."

"Dropping in."

The young pilot elegantly looped into place, forming perfectly beside and behind the red scored lead fury.

"We're going through the middle, stay alert, if its got less than four engines, kill it."

The craft accelerated, engines widening and pushing them into the maelstrom. Other Nova Furies from his squadron and others wove and duelled with their numerous enemies, flashing bright against the night as they delivered plasma rounds in long streams at grouped Thoruns. The Tiger furies had more rigid formations, cutting through the fighter melees and engaging the defence satellites. Pulsar shots from the platforms laced the path of the Tigers, the old fighters rolling and evading expertly until they came into weapons range.

Missiles dropped from their wings, following the parent craft for a second under inertia before the engines cut in and blasted the weapons towards their targets. The Tiger furies were already setting up for runs on their secondary targets when the missiles hit, armoured nose cones bursting through the hull of the platforms while the tactical warhead then detonated fractionally later within the satellite.

Hague followed Sinclair through this, seeing glimpses of the spectacle as they flew through the battle like single frames from a movie. His computer told him of any imminent danger and he was quick to act if necessary.

Sinclair was focused on his own targets, trusting Hague to watch his back while he never took his eyes from the two veteran Thoruns that had killed one of his colleagues. He didn't know the pilot, he had fought beside the Banshee's but didn't recognise the markings meaning it was a new replacement. That did not douse his anger however, he felt kinship with all the pilots flying furies in this war and would avenge any of them. Those two Thoruns were a threat, and they had to be stopped as quickly as possible.

The two Dilgar raced through the crumbling defence line, satellites bursting on all sides as the Tigers pressed home their attack. The pair of Thoruns stayed in formation, dodging past a satellite which was still active and spotted Sinclair. The two Earth Force fighters barely flinched, Hague and Sinclair simply side slipping, avoiding the point defence fire and slashing toe satellite with their own guns, then just returning to the chase leaving the facility behind them.

"Hague, take the one on the left."

"Copy sir." He confirmed.

They moved in around a cored out Destroyer, one of the Nemesis' victims, and slipped around to jump the two Thoruns at point blank range. It was over in three seconds.

"That's another five points each." Hague said with a grin.

"Not bad." Sinclair said, "but I think our kill tally is about to get beaten."

He pointed through the window as a dark shape cast a shadow on Hague's fighter, the lumbering slab of armour they had once called home.

"Go get 'em Lady Nemesis."

"Signal Captain." Commander Anderson tilted his head and pressed the small speaker to his ear. "Fighter squadrons report mine fields clear, the Commodore is ordering us to advance and engage the Starbase."

"Oh good, I always wanted to blow up something that big." Captain Tennant grinned widely, rubbing his large hands together in apparent glee. "One more thing I can cross off my list of things to do before I turn fifty."

"Very good sir." Anderson offered in reply.

"Next up is learning to Limbo Dance." The Captain stated thoughtfully. "Might save that for after the war, blowing up a city in space will probably keep me happy for a good six months. I don't want to rush it."

"No sir, perish the thought."

Tennant raised an eyebrow. "Commander, I can't help but think you aren't taking my ambitions seriously?"

"Far from it sir, I can't think of anything I'd like to see better than a giant almost middle aged Maori trying to limbo under a pole sir. Preferably in a grass skirt."

"The skirt is sacred." The Captain replied sternly, smoothing his hand over the yellow strands he was currently wearing. "And it works."

"Of course sir."

"Glad you agree." Tennant nodded firmly. "Now, why are we coasting here when I have a dream to fulfil? Engines to full, set up a standard closing vector and engage when we get a clear shot."

With a rumble of controlled power the Nemesis accelerated, the grey form pushed on a glow of blue fire with the second battleship joining it a moment later. The ships moved into the corridor cleared by the Tiger furies, bumping some pieces of debris from their path as they proceeded through the outer defence line and set their weapons on the looming station.

With a blue and red flash Hague split a Thorun in two, his plasma cannons melting through its central fuselage in an instant. The rear half exploded as the engine ran out of control and threw burning components in a glittering sphere, the front half spinning away into darkness.

"I swear these things are getting easier to kill, and I don't just mean rookie pilots."

"Maybe they just don't make 'em like they used to?" April answered with a little chuckle.

"Maybe not." Hague replied. "I mean they have to be running out of materials, maybe they're using sub standard metal to build them now."

"Cut the chatter Ghosts." Sinclair ordered. "Tiger wing is going to fire the last of its missiles on the station, form up and follow them in."

Rapidly the cross winged fighters set their course, grouping back into their formation and crossing the battle to join up with their older cousins. The fighting was still intense but had become concentrated in fighter engagements, the Dilgar craft still falling helplessly to grouped interceptor or Starfury counters. With their missiles fired most of the Tiger furies were now acting as pure dogfighters and continuing to prove their ability against the Dilgar designs despite their age. The last two squadrons of missile armed Tigers grouped themselves together among the warships of the task force, forming up and then blasting forward towards the military base dominating orbit.

"Watch for bandits Ghosts." Sinclair warned. "There's a lot of metal out there getting in the way of scans, use your eyes and stay alert."

"Tiger wing is on the move." April remarked. "Passing Nemesis and moving forward."

"Open the throttle and stay with them." Sinclair confirmed. "And give the Nemesis a salute as we go past."

"All hail the skirt." Hague laughed. "Anyone else would get laughed at, but not Captain Joe."

"Are you kidding? Nobody laughs at a guy that big." April said with a smile. "And everyone knows it works."

"Pick up the pace Ghost two." The Commander cut in. "Incoming high, lets drive ahead and keep them busy."

The squadron went to work, rising up above the Tigers and locking on to the incoming Thoruns. Sinclair kept his squadron moving, dodging left and right constantly even when not under fire so they could not be easily surprised, something most veteran pilots tried. The incoming squadron was doing no such thing, simply flying straight for them at high speed on a predictable path. It made things much easier.

The Starfuries swept through them in a blaze of blue fire and orange glows, shattering the whole Dilgar unit in a couple of seconds before coming around and lining up on another group of Thoruns that didn't even see them coming.

Meanwhile the Tigers commenced their attack, gracefully attacking in a long slow curve and coming at the station from two sides. Waves of pulsar fire churned the darkness sweeping between the squadrons as the furies weaved their way through the hail. A pair of craft were caught in the storm, blasted to pieces before they could respond as their comrades rushed on past their embers. They proceeded ever closer, each mile giving them less reaction time and making the incoming fire more deadly. Their ECM packages helped disrupt the Dilgar targeting sensors, but with the sheer power the station could put into its sensors the ECM would be useless at combat range.

Facing the fighters was a Koratyl class base, a standardised design deployed when the Dilgar wanted to make their presence felt. It was bigger than an Earth Force Orion base and had full artificial gravity and tremendously heavy armour. Sharp segments jutted from the central core, scorpion like claws and mandibles similar to those used on the warships of the fleet created a horrific profile, built to intimidate and impose command on subjugated worlds.

Amongst all these thorns were heavy weapon batteries and self defence guns, and while less well armed than their human equivalents and woefully inadequate compared to the Abbai and Hyach orbital fortresses they were still lethal to enemy ships and would be a challenge even for the two Dreadnoughts closing in to attack.

The fighter squadrons moved as one, accelerating hard into the final approach and increasing their evasive twists and turns. The Tigers were aiming for the heaviest guns the station had hoping to take them out and provide an easier time for the heavy ships fast coming into range. They armed their missiles and broke up to hit their individual targets.

Moments before they arrived the Ghost Riders raced by, cutting across the front of the station at full burn between the Tigers and the point defences. As they passed they dropped countermeasures, clouds of chaff and hot burning flares that emitted light, heat and radiation in the path of the Dilgar guns, blinding them as the Tigers were at their most vulnerable. The gun crews fired wildly, sweeping the pulsars across the likely vectors but to no avail. The strike fighters burst through the haze, dodged under the guns and crossed the rows of spikes and guns to fly barely above the surface armour of the station, the large laser and bolter turrets rising up above them like mountains of thick metal.

With a final twist they fired their missiles, the tactical bombs aimed at the weak points in the Dilgar gun turrets where they met the station. The Tigers broke away and fled, dropping their own countermeasures to cover the escape as the missiles punched through turret rings and elevation mechanisms, piercing into the vitals of the heavy guns before exploding. Hague was treated to the sight of a two hundred metre long heavy bolter flying from its turret like a missile, ejected by a stream of fire and lancing through space with enough force to impale a cruiser. Fortunately none were in its way.

"That did it!" He called happily. "Look at the fireballs!"

The fading flames of the missile strike soon brightened again as the Nemesis and Gustavus entered range and fired, the two heavy ships creating a flowing road of red strands between themselves and the station. They slowly began circling, gradually blasting away armour and external systems to the joy of the fleet.

"When that place goes down we'll finish the fighter factory and those ship yards." Sinclair watched, both impressed and proud at the havoc wrought by the task force. "The Dilgar fleet is still too far away, bet they wish they'd left some jump ships here now."

"Heads are gonna roll for this one." Hague agreed.

"Knowing the Dilgar, that's probably the truth." April added. "Not big on mercy."

"Enemy fighters seem to be easing off." Sinclair noted on his screen. "We'll hold out here and resume combat patrol, there are a few more squadrons out there, they'll arrive in a few minutes so be ready."

"We really put a dent in their fighter force today." Hague noted. "Wonder how many they have left?"

"Enough to make the road to Omelos a tough one." The Squadron leader replied. "You can bet their main fleets still have the best squadrons, we'll be needed before this war is done."

The Nova Furies took up patrol stations while the older Tigers returned to the fleet and assumed close cover of the larger ships, content to now sit back and let the warships finish off the large facilities at their leisure with nothing now to oppose them. There was still the odd fighter in the sky, but the smart ones were staying clear while the less educated ones became another notch on the scorecard of the corvette screen.

What largely escaped notice was a fresh wing of Dart fighters cruising into position using the vast bulk of the fighter factory to mask their approach. They held a careful formation, communicating by hand signals waved through the canopies of their neighbours to avoid comms being picked up. They steered by sight so their sensor emissions would not be detected and ran their engines at minimal power to further avoid alerting Earth Force. Almost eighty craft had gathered, elite units that were outfitting with new fighters when the attack came and had been away from the initial action. Now, finally, they were in position and at their fore was the best squadron in the Imperium outfitted with the latest prototype Thoruns.

"Assault squadrons, break and attack." Squadron Leader Ari'shan ordered simply and expectantly, the prospect of a real duel with Earth Force after months of training tingling his senses. "Be aware of straying too close to their warships, deal with the fighters only. We must win back some honour from this disaster. Daggers with me, we're going for the Nova squadrons."

"Every time I turn left something squeaks." Hague complained. "I don't know if it's the controls, or a seal on the canopy or what. It just gets irritating."

"On the list of problems with the new design, I'd say that rests pretty low down." April chuckled in good humour.

"Well it's a squeak now, what if something falls off?" He returned. "What if I lose an engine or something?"

"I don't know, maybe you'll actually fly straight on three engines?" April teased. "You aren't so good on four."

"One time! One time I tried to land upside down!" Hague shot back. "You'd think I crashed Earth Force One!"

"Live with it Bill." Sinclair smiled. "You're never living that down, ever."

"Well I still think someone needs to look at this squeaky seal on the Canopy."

"You know we can solve both problems by just giving Bill a Tiger Fury." April suggested. "He only has to worry about two engines and a Tiger never squeaks. They just creak a lot."

"I'm laughing my but off over here, really." Hague answered. "When my plane falls apart for no reason you'll remember this and you'll cry."

"Yeah, with laughter."

"Hey, hey, hey." Sinclair changed the subject sharply. "I just got a spike on the sensors, confirm Ghost two."

April frowned and reset her sensors, sweeping nearby space until a fresh power source registered, then another and another.

"Confirmed! Hostiles on six emerging from cover!"

The communication suddenly filled with noise, voices mixed with static shouting reports.

"Mayday mayday, this is Sundown three! We're under attack!"

"Hold on Sundown, Ghosts are coming in." Sinclair replied, the whole squadron hurtling towards the action without even needing orders, it was enough just to see Sinclair turn and go to full afterburn.

"We're eight ships down!" The voice yelled. "We didn't see 'em!"

"Just go evasive! Keep moving!"

"He's right on me… son of a…."

The channel went dead, causing Sinclair to set his jaw and exhale harshly.

"We're in it for real now." He stated coldly. "Go get them."

The two squadrons of Tigers returning from the attack on the station were easy marks, and while they put up a stiff fight and brought down a number of the elite Thoruns they were outnumbered and outclassed. By the time back up forces arrived only seven were still fighting.

Sinclair's computer warned of missiles heading his way, three of them, closing very rapidly. He stayed on his course, sighting a Thorun that twisted hard around and opened fire, rolling as it engaged to give it the maximum cone of fire and a better chance of a hit, a clear veteran pilot. Even with the hail of fire ahead and missiles behind Sinclair remained totally calm and focused, twisting his fighter to match the rate of roll his opponent had achieved and holding fire until he was guaranteed a hit. In the space of a second he fired and then banked hard, the missiles passing within feet of his fighter and losing their lock when the exploding Thorun fried their seekers.

The Nova furies were heavily engaged within moments, the first rate fighters were making an impact but were outnumbered by just over two to one and even with their quality pilots against such skilled Dilgar they would have failed. Tiger furies joined them, wading into the fray and adding to the attack while a corvette was hastily detached to add interceptor support. A wave of Dilgar missiles brought down a group of Tigers and a Nova before they joined the melee in force swarming the Dilgar pilots and pressing them into a close turning battle.

Normally this would have signalled instant success, the human craft having the edge in a close turning fight, but not this time. These were the initial batch of Thorun mkIII fighters optimised for close in combat with better thrusters. While the Nova furies could still out turn them the older Tigers were not so lucky and with well trained elites flying them the Dilgar inflicted growing losses on the older squadrons.

April slotted in beside a Dart fighter matching its speed and course. With a flick of the controls she turned ninety degrees and pointed her guns straight at the pilot who at once rolled away. With slight annoyance April was forced to adjust her aim sharply before firing, enduring a jolt of G force before destroying her opponent.

"Nippy little bastards aren't they?"

"I don't think these are standard fighters." Sinclair warned. "Be damn careful, these guys are good."

She worked the controls hard as a stream of fire sliced past her canopy followed by a dark blur as a Thorun passed by in front of her, too fast for her to shoot.

"I'm not getting a target warning on these guys!" She called. "They aren't locking us before they fire!"

That made things harder for the pilots, without the warning they would have to use just their instincts to guess if they were about to be fired on, and with so much going on around them it was easy to lose track.

"Don't give them a chance!" Sinclair called back. "Just kill them fast!"

"Right, right then." She pushed the engines, her computer finding several likely targets. "You next."

Drawing on experience she slid across space, dropping the nose and cutting engines to coast over where a Thorun would pass. She had a tiny fraction of a second to engage, a brief moment when her guns would be properly aligned so she saturated the area with plasma fire. With a satisfying flash the Thorun ran straight into the curtain of blue rain and fell apart.

"These guys are hard work, at least ten points a kill." She suggested. "First one to fifty points can buy me a drink."

"I'm already on seventy." Sinclair replied. "You can buy me one."

She grinned widely, then looked for another target.

Beyond the fighter battle the starbase was a mass of flame, its surface glowing like a sun with tens of thousands of tons worth of material slowly falling away from the battered facility. Even so a few guns still replied giving the interceptor grids something to do while the dreadnoughts kept up their bombardment.

"Oh come on! Isn't this thing ever going to die?" Tennant grumbled. "I plan on eating today some time you know!"

"We've burned through three layers of armour, just the core protection left." Anderson explained. "They built this thing to last."

"They built it to piss me off." Tennant replied angrily. "I thought this would be fun, drive by shooting with forty gigantic cannons like we usually do. Damn I hate hard work."

"We still have the fighter factory to kill next sir."

He sighed. "Thank you Dilgar, thank you for robbing the joy out of massive explosions." He paused. "Nearly."

Finally with a crack of light the starbase exploded, its remaining structure little more than massive black lumps of molten and broken metal slowly pushed away by the blast.

"About time." The Captain grumbled. "Note that station down in the book of things Lady Nemesis has killed."

"You mean the ship's log sir?"

"Same thing." Tennant shrugged. "My girl likes to party, and nothing says party like blowing up a metric crapload of stuff and then running way." He patted the familiar armrests. "I love my Lady Nemesis, my kind of girl."

"Moving on sir, we're coming into range of the factory."

"Good, more breakables."

"Target locked and ready."

"Ruin their day."

While the heavy ships hammered the massive factory the fighters continued their own smaller scale battle. The Earth Force craft had pushed the Dilgar back to the factory and the attached shipyards, the massive complex a maze of metal, cavernous hangars, skeletal ships and now whole swathes of surface turned to fire and ruin by the human vessels. The Dilgar fighters took to the maze with speed and daring, using it to hide from the interceptors of escort vessels and draw the Starfuries into highly dangerous duels among the cluttered environment.

Hague stayed with Sinclair as he tore through the miles long facility, dipping and swerving to avoid obstructions as he hunted down the enemy craft. Hague had the opportunity to down two fighters that tried to engage his leader, destroying one outright and winging another bad enough that it flew into a wall. He had to keep his wits about him as the Dilgar drew them on the long chase, but ultimately Sinclair seemed in total control and Hague could proceed more carefully as the leader handled himself with customary precision.

Sinclair dropped another of the Dart fighters, then followed the last one in his field of vision. It flew through a narrow open ended hangar with the red marked fury in close pursuit before pulling up fast and emerging into a ship yard. The Thorun lapped around the edge of a half built frigate prompting Sinclair to take a short cut, flying through the ships hull where the reactor would one day be installed and proceeding the Dilgar craft. When it ran around the frigate Sinclair's guns were waiting for it.

Hague fell back into formation as the debris cooled having decided to take the longer route around the ship instead of following Sinclair's path.

"I don't see anything else on scans, looks like we're clear here."

"The whole squadrons scattered everywhere running through all this crap." Sinclair grimaced. "And did you see the markings on that last fighter? All black instead of the usual green and grey."

"Same squadron as that Dilgar ace." Hague recalled.

"It was, I haven't seen him, but keep an eye open. If he's out here we need to find him and fast."

"Is it that bad?"

Sinclair nodded to himself. "If he's out there its twice as bad as you can imagine."

Ari'shan was careful to dodge the blue plasma fire but without plastering himself into a girder that zipped past at high speed. His new fighter was a work or art, it still handled like a Thorun, it had that same feel, but was so much better and more precise it filled him with joy. He would have been reluctant to fly through the mess of factory components in his old Thorun even with his prodigious skill, but the new fighter handles so excellently he could sweep along at high speed with confidence.

The Starfury behind him was also handling itself expertly, matching every tiny turn and adjustment in position he made and staying with him, aware of both his position and the environment around it. He was skimming close to the surface through the built up attachments that received ores from freighters mined in system and carried them into the facility. Massive cranes and squat buildings rose up everywhere along with masts and piles of discarded waste. There was danger on all sides and yet the human kept up the pace and even found time to shoot at him. A most worthy opponent.

He knew this squadron, he recognised the markings when the battle began and he knew who commanded it. Somewhere the red chevroned fighter was engaging his comrades, somewhere close. He wanted to break away and just wait for it, to stand back and look for his nemesis, the human ace who in his eyes represented the best pilot in the galaxy. But he couldn't, he had to fight whoever was nearby but fortunately for him it seemed the squadron had been well trained by its leader.

He banked around a crane, glad to see the human matched his move perfectly and fired at a gap between a pair of cooling towers where it seemed obvious Ari would fly. But the Dilgar had other plans rolling downwards and halting his descent just inches above the surface before briefly burning retros. It happened so fast and so precisely the Starfury passed straight over him close enough to touch before he rose back up and gave chase.

"Oh crap!" April snapped as the black and red Thorun passed almost between her feet. Normally she'd perform a combat turn and just fly backwards while keeping her guns on target, but in this cluttered location she couldn't afford to fly blind, not if she didn't want to end up like a bug on a windscreen.

She had guessed the Dilgar pilot was an ace, a master of his job, but the impossible move she had just seen put him into a whole new category. Even worse as she passed so close she had received a clear view of the markings on the craft, including a row of white crosses that looked like Nova Fury profiles on the Thoruns nose. The guy was a Fury killer, a rarity among the Dilgar and especially lethal. Just to add that final level of utter panic she knew she'd seen those markings before.

"Ghost two to lead, you need to get over here right now!"

"April?" She heard Sinclair answer at once. "Where are you?"

"Planet facing side!" She answered, flying between the cooling towers. "I found your ace!"

"Where is he?"

She checked her scanners and burst a quick panicked laugh. "He's literally six feet behind me! Six feet!"

"Don't fight him, just run!" Sinclair yelled. "I'm on my way, just run!"

"Way ahead of you!" She replied, then snapped the fighter in a vicious crushing turn. The Dilgar was still with her, but at least now not so close. "Anytime now would be good!"

There were no other fighters nearby, the speed of the chase having taken April away from the main area of operations. There were another two Dilgar nearby but they were holding back, happy to let their leader handle the situation alone. She tore through the structures, making as many turns as she could to keep the Dilgar pilot off target and not give him a shot. She couldn't shake him so didn't try, she just focused on avoiding his guns.

Sinclair was the best pilot she knew, he had pulled stunts that went beyond what a Starfury was supposed to be able to achieve. He was the best scoring pilot in the navy, he had it in his blood and had never broken so much as a sweat in battle. He was on a level all of his own, somewhere April couldn't reach and he, with all that skill, had failed to defeat the pilot chasing her right now.

She remembered he was called Ari, and that military intelligence had pinpointed his name and unit from intercepts but didn't know he was going to be hear. If they had known they'd have sent at least two more veteran Nova squadrons, that was how dangerous they considered him. Now she was facing him alone.

"Come on Dave, don't spare the engines." She muttered through her teeth, skimming under a conveyer and flying through a docking latch barely wider than her wings. It didn't throw him off. He was still giving chase, inexorable and perfect in control, flying almost casually as if on a pleasure flight. Perhaps for him it was a pleasure flight.

She made another turn, and then another each more desperate than the last and each just as useless. She dodged around one more block before everything returned to black. After the grey and green of the station it took her an instant to realise she was back out in open space, the station now behind her. She had lost her cover.

She rolled hard on instinct and that decision saved her life as Ari fired, the bolts barely missing the top of the fighter and burning her exquisite wing art into an unrecognisable mess. She was travelling extremely fast and violent turns in direction were staggeringly hard on her body but she had to try, the consequences of not doing so were much worse. She could sense her brain getting sleepy as blood rushed away under G force and registered the intense pain of a lower rib cracking. Through it all she also noticed a black shape pass by her canopy and fired, the shots missing by an inch as the ace passed by and performed his own turn.

April spun again, and again narrowly avoided death but lost sight of her attacker. Her rearward sensors showed the Thorun behind her flipping over to shoot and with all her strength she braced and dropped away an a full afterburn turn, an insane act of desperation, and one the ace had expected.

April's fighter took three hits, and it was only by her last desperate dodge that the craft was not instantly destroyed. Two shots sliced into the upper wing and cut the fuel lines, shutting down one engine while the third struck the main body from the back. The heavy armour prevented the Fury exploding but there was enough damage to effectively put it out of action.

The fighter lost control and fell through space, a few desultory bursts of thrusters fire tried to level it but not many, the pilot knew it was over. Ari eased his Thorun around to try and line up in front of the now drifting craft, closing on the large canopy to look inside and salute the expert pilot. It had been a superb duel, one of the very best and Ari'shan paid his respects to his opponent before delivered what he considered to be an entirely noble and honourable death.

The pilot seemed unresponsive and badly injured, a pity as he would have liked the human to know he was offering his respect, but at least honour was served. He backed off and prepared for the last shot, but paused, a smile crossing his face as he spotted a fresh contact coming in very fast, red and white colour shining from its hull. He had arrived.

Ari'shan at once accelerated to meet the human, heart thumping loudly as he issued the challenge. This time he knew his opponent, he knew the limits of the fighter and the human body, and he knew the pilot opposite him had exceeded all of those limits in the past. He embraced the moment and opened fire.

Streams of red and blue passed each other, the two craft closing at massive speed swerving and rolling but never taking their fingers off the trigger. The slashed past right next to each other, cartwheeling in perfect union around each other before momentum separated them. Ari kept flying, heading back to the factory and the human fighter changed course and followed, taking up Ari's challenge accepting the test.

"April?" Hague asked, slowing down beside the shot up Starfury. "April? Come on dammit, I can see you moving!"

Very weakly a voice replied to him, and in the cockpit of the fighter across from him he saw her head move.

"Hey Bill, your timing sucks."

"Listen, your reactor is still intact, there's no radiation." He spoke quickly. "Looks like you're an engine down but have three left. Hey, it might make you fly straighter."

"That's my line!" she half laughed weakly. "Damn I feel like hell."

"Yeah well the boss is handling that other guy, but we're still in Dilgar space. We need to get back to the carrier."

"Great plan." She agreed. "Say, I think I got stabbed."

"You think what?"

"Looks like a bit of metal went through the cockpit from something behind." She said calmly. "And then went through me too. Weird, doesn't hurt."

Hague squinted and moved as close as he dared, and sure enough a jagged piece of metal was lodged in April's side, drops of blood floating freely around it.

"We have to get you clear, right now."

"I've still got power, I think I can get this bucket moving."

"Lets do it now, we've got clear skies and no telling how long that will last." Hague said trying to mask his concern. "Come on, just follow me, I'll stay close."

"Yeah?"

"All the way to Earth if I have to." He replied sincerely.

"What about the Commander, you should help him."

"He's got it covered, so I'll help you instead. Now throttle up, we've got time to make up."

It had been close, but he had made it. Sinclair had givenhimself a heartbeat of relief as he noticed Hague linking up with April, but that brief instant was all he could afford. The Dilgar ace was back, this man Ari'shan had upgraded his fighter and was even more dangerous now, Sinclair wasn't convinced he was going to fly away from this encounter in one piece.

The Thorun was back in and amongst the beams and structure of the factory but this time Ari wasn't easing back. The facility was haloed in flame as the Earth force ships tore it apart, massive chunks of shrapnel and buring gas and liquid sprayed everywhere making the whole area a death trap, one the Dilgar pilot enthusiastically entered. It wasn't just about winning, it was about pushing their skills to absolute maximum, and duelling in a dying station was certainly a challenge.

Ari flew through a massive hole in the station and raced inside with Sinclair close behind, creating a shower of sparks as his fighter proved a fraction too big for the hole. The factory was largely a zero gravity facility so the Fury was unaffected in flight, though the rows of unmanned fighters and long production lines certainly offered plenty to keep him occupied without even worrying about Ari'shan.

He kept his nerve, firing a few shots as circumstances permitted but not hitting the target. The Thorun was making a series of impossible manoeuvres skimming through beams and supports and even dodging through a production cradle that barely gave him enough space to fit. Sinclair was more careful, avoiding the temptation to follow Ari precisely and finding his own parallel course which was safer but still very demanding.

He whipped through a firestorm of burning fuel, the substance clinging to his fighter for a moment transforming it into a brief flaming comet. Still Ari'shan raced through the structure and still Sinclair chased, blasting apart machinery and parked fighters as he fired on his target without success.

The factory was shaking apart, corridors collapsing and exploding under the warship bombardment. A whole production line behind Sinclair vanished in a blaze of plasma as one of the Heavy cruisers battered it and he barely noticed, totally focused on the Dilgar craft. He pushed the engines more, rose over a robotic welding arm and moved in closer.

Without warning a bright light speared through the station between Ari and the Starfury, a laser beam fired from one of the Dreadnoughts that was slicing straight through the factory. Sinclair turned with immediate haste, touching the laser would mean instant death and he completely lost his bearings. Everything was collapsing around him, the walls folded in and the roof exploded downwards in sheets of flame. It took every ounce of concentration to avoid the rain of debris and chart a safe course through the hurricane.

He couldn't slow down and had to just press on, the laser cannons continuing to annihilate the base around him. He found a different production line and turned into it, using his cannons to clear the way of objects that he couldn't dodge past. Wreckage pummelled his fighter, only its heavy construction saving it while he bolted for freedom, a loading dock for the export of completed Thoruns his most likely mode of exit.

Without pausing or taking a moment of thought he committed, he didn't have time to do anything else. He cleared the last obstructions and found a clear run to the exit, engaging afterburners and blasting through, the whole section shredded by laser fire in a boiling tumult of fire a second after he left.

Sinclair found himself breathing hard as he regained his composure. His screen was clear and no enemies were in the area, just friendlies. He took a moment to spin around examining the area he had just left. The fighter factory was in ruins, the starbase beyond in an equal mess of glowing metal that would be like a beacon on the planet below. The Fury crossed in front of a nearby Dreadnought, the ship that had cut up the facility and damn near him too.

"The Nemesis, of course." He chuckled. "Damn it Joe I'm going to need one of those damn skirts if you keep this up!"

He saw no sign of Ari'shan, no trace of the black fighter. It was possible he was dead, consumed in the destruction of the factory but Sinclair didn't think so. If he survived so too did the Dilgar, it wasn't over yet.

He yawed the Fury and departed, he still had one more responsibility.

Hague kept pace with the damaged fighter, constantly glancing across at April and going over in his mind over and over again how much blood she must have lost and how badly shot up her craft was.

"Still awake over there?" he asked for the fiftieth time.

"Still awake." She answered groggily. "Damn this is a long trip."

"We can't put too much power in your engines, plus you're down to three." He said in return. "We just got to take it steady."

"Bill, it's a warzone, slow and steady is just dumb."

"We're clear, there isn't a Dilgar fighter in half a million miles of here, and if one did show up I'd nail him."

"Newest ace in the pack." April laughed weakly, her voice a lot quieter then it had been just five minutes ago.

"I got over fifty points of kills today, so that means I owe you a drink." He pointed out.

"You mean I have to be seen in public with you?" she joked.

"Yeah, and you ain't getting out of it, this almost getting killed thing? Nice try, but you aren't cheating me out of a date that easy."

He noted another fighter closing on his scanners, the IFF identifying it as Ghost leader. Gently Sinclair dropped his fighter into formation beside April, running his trained eye over the damage.

"How is it Ghost Two?"

"Still ready to kick butt and take names sir." She replied defiantly. "Maybe not in that order."

"I think you'll need a new plane, way to shaft the taxpayer."

"Pleasure was all mine Dave." She chuckled a little.

"We've got the fleet on sensors." Sinclair said. "Not far now, how's your auto systems?"

"Dead sir." April replied. "My auto pilot chickened out back there. Loser."

"We'll just have to make it a manual landing then. Should be fun."

They flew on quietly for a minute or two as Sinclair assessed the damage and tried to come up with a better plan. Around them missiles flew in silence towards the remaining Dilgar ship yards, massive nuclear tipped devices sailing into the distance from the Task Force's missile cruiser. Each missile bloomed in a white and blue star, evaporating the defenceless structures in blazing energy and lighting up the Tirrith sky. Everything shone for a few minutes before reverting back to night.

"Ghost leader, Ghost Leader." A radio crackled on. "This is Illustrious, we have Dilgar ships closing on this position, we need to jump rapidly."

"I read you Lusty." Sinclair answered. "We're coming in with a wounded bird."

"You're going to have to speed up Ghosts, we're just waiting for you three to land before we go now."

"Negative Lusty, we can't move any faster, engines on our wounded bird won't take it."

"Can you grapple her Ghost leader, tow the bird in?"

Sinclair looked across. "No, she's barely holding together now. If I try and grapple her she's going to fall apart."

"Can the pilot eject?"

"Looks like the Cockpit is pinned by shrapnel, and so is the pilot. Her suit is compromised, we can't get her out, we're going to have to bring the whole thing in."

"Be advised hostiles are five minutes out, we have orders to jump in four and a half."

"Then you'll be three fighters down." Sinclair said sternly. "We're coming in together, all three of us so you better have crash teams and medics standing by."

"Roger that Ghost leader." The voice replied. "The Commodore can give you two more minutes on top of the jump time. After that we can't risk the ship any further."

"Understood Lusty, we'll be there."

He reopened the channel to the other two fighters, grimly looking over the ruined Fury and injured pilot as he spoke.

"Still with me April?"

"No where I'd rather be." She answered slowly.

"Right, we've got enemy fighters closing, so we're going to have to do this first time, okay?"

"Great."

"We're also going to have to come in faster than I'd like. It's going to be rough, but we can't do a scoop up. Lusty will have the crash nets up so just go for it, okay?"

"Still great."

"I'll stay close all the way in and help guide you." Sinclair confirmed. "Bill, I want you to go on ahead and land, I'll take it from here."

"I'm going to stay sir." Hague replied. "Respectfully, I gave my word. You can court martial me later, but I'm not leaving."

Sinclair laughed a little. "Alright Bill, move forward a little, you'll set the pace. April fall in behind Bill's fighter, match everything he does. I'll bring up the rear and watch your approach for corrections."

"I feel like a student rookie again." April mused faintly.

"Stop complaining and fall in." Sinclair replied. "If you hadn't gotten yourself shot…"

"Yeah, I see what you're doing." She smiled. "You want to make me angry so I stay awake."

"As Squadron leader its my job." Sinclair returned. "Level off a little, good."

"This wound, it's hurting quite a lot now."

"Not far to go, the medics are waiting."

"Blood loss makes you faint right?" she asked.

"Only if you let it, now keep focused and watch your throttle, remember you just have three engines so keep up on the thrusters."

The three fighter proceeded in single file towards the carrier, a growing grey shape in the distance. In their current formation at that speed they'd be easy kills for even rookie Dilgar pilots, they had to get down on the landing deck fast or they would be doomed, no one would launch to help them and the corvettes had to stay behind the jump engined ships or risk being left behind themselves.

"This is dumb!" April suddenly snapped. "Why don't you two just go? Get out of here!"

"Stop arguing and watch your trim." Sinclair said back calmly. "This isn't a discussion, it's an order."

"I can see the Dilgar fighters Dave! I can see them, you're going to get yourself killed, Bill too!"

"If they try and attack us we'll break off and make them sorry, then you land and we'll be right behind you."

"Commander, listen to me!" She said with growing strength. "Dave, Bill, just go."

"And you have your orders. Now watch Bill, adjust yaw and hold course."

Sinclair looked over and spotted the Dilgar, three black painted elites shadowing them. They had a clear target but did not attack, holding position for a few more seconds before turning back with no indication of why. They just let the Earth Force craft go.

"Ghost flight this is Illustrious, we're coming about and opening hangar." The radio passed on the voice of flight control ahead of them. "Approach is good, rescue teams are standing by."

"April owes me a date." Hague informed. "I think this is all an elaborate scheme to get out of it."

"And she owes me a drink." Sinclair added. "Yeah, now it all becomes clear."

"You two need to get over yourselves." April gave her answer. "I have a fiancé you now, in the Marines!"

"A Jarhead? Now that makes three reasons." Bill pointed out.

"April you're drifting right." Sinclair spoke quickly. "Watch the thrusters."

"I slipped." She said very quietly. "This isn't going well Dave."

"We're nearly there, few more seconds." He urged. "Just keep it together."

"Carrier dead ahead." Hague reported. "The Dilgar fighters are gone, we've got a straight run."

"You two are great you know?" April said peacefully.

"Of course we know, we're fighter pilots." Sinclair put on a fake laugh. "When we graduate we get our egos before we get our planes."

"You stayed with me. Thanks."

"Your welcome, now watch the damn drift, you're making Bill look like a good pilot."

"My vision is getting screwy, and I think I lost feeling in my legs."

"Don't you dare give up April!" Sinclair said harshly. "Don't even think about it, you are the best second in the Force, there's no one else I'd trust with my squadron! Now stay focused and follow Bill!"

A weak laugh came over the radio. "I think that's the first time I've heard you shout."

"It had better be the last." Sinclair said firmly. "Keep control, you are doing great, few more seconds."

"Besides, you have another date." Hague reminded. "With the band."

"Huh, yeah." April recalled.

"You're the best singer they have." He stated. "Typical multi talented over achiever that you are."

She smiled. "Some people just got it…"

"Come on, what were you going to sing?" he asked.

"When?" she asked, sounding increasingly distant.

"Come on April, with the band." Hague pressed. "I haven't heard you live, what were you going to sing?"

"You should give us a tune." Sinclair cottened on, if he could get her to focus on something it might keep her conscious for the next few moments they needed. "Something from the band."

"Well… I think I have just the one…"

"Anytime Ghost Two." Sinclair prompted.

The voice was still weak but he noted a definite clarity, it seemed like it was working.

"Coming in on a wing and a prayer…"

the three craft held course, lined up on the maw of the carrier, its red glowing hangar blinking with running lights.

"Illustrious control, adjust course to three one six."

"Come on April." Sinclair encouraged. "You haven't blown a landing in your life, don't do it now."

"… we've got one motor gone, but we're still going on, coming in on a wing and a prayer."

"Control, check speed."

"Slow it down a little April, we don't want to hit too hard."

Her voice still sounded across the radio, growing steadily weaker as her injuries began to overcome her.

"Watch your drift."

"…What a show, what a fight…."

"Come on girl, hold it together."

"Watch your approach Ghost flight."

"Come on April, catch up, don't drift left."

"…Yes we really hit our target for tonight…for tonight…"

Her voice was ghostly, faint but still clear enough to hear each word, a haunting sensation for the two other pilots and the bridge crew of the carrier.

"…With our full crew aboard, and our faith in the Lord…"

"Check approach Ghosts, I repeat check approach."

"April, adjust right! Slow down!"

"…Coming in on a wing…."

"Cut engines! Cut them!"

"…and a prayer…."

The damaged fighter clipped the side of the hanger, scraping in a cloud of sparks and spinning wildly. It bounced off the bottom of Hague's Fury and slammed into the deck, rolling over and over, losing all four wings in the process.

Hague regained control, but not before he too scraped a long groove in the top of the hangar and barely avoided a head on collision with one of the other walls. No sooner were the three ships inside the maw of the hangar then the carrier jumped, the rest of the fleet close behind.

The deck crew were ready for the crash, the hangar had been coated with a thick layer of foam that stuck to all surfaces despite the lack of gravity. The wreck was caught in the first net, snapped through and ploughed through the foam like a ship in a storm before the second net successfully arrested its uncontrolled journey. The other two fighters were clamped to the deck rapidly as the bay doors slammed shut and pressure was restored, rescue teams flooding in as soon as the inner doors opened and began dousing the crashed fighter with fire retardant chemicals.

Sinclair was out of his fighter before it had finished clamping down, launching himself across the hangar to the Fury. He was caught a few feet away by a firefighter.

"Watch out, stay clear!"

With a crack the rescue teams fired the explosive bolts on the canopy and blew off the front of the fighter, then crawled inside and took off April's helmet, fixing an oxygen mask on instead.

"Plasma torches!" The Rescue chief called. "Cut out the whole back wall!"

Sinclair watched intensely as the crews swiftly cut out the back of the cockpit and detached the whole thing, the jagged piece of metal pinning April to her place clearly visible. Hague fell in beside him, equally frantic with worry.

"Is she okay?" he demanded. "Is she alive?"

"Just give us space, okay." The Firefighter said, just as intense and determined to get the pilot he didn't even know to safety.

"Okay, take the whole thing!" The Chief ordered the six foot by three foot slab of metal to be moved. "Straight to sick bay, we can't cut her out here. Get her to the Doc, now!"

Hague ran his hand through his hair, wet with sweat and turned away. "This isn't happeneing."

Sinclair watched icily as the grim scene was taken out of the hangar and to the thankfully adjacent emergency medical bay.

"I know who did this." He said plainly. "It isn't going to happen again."

"What, who?" Hague frowned. "That Dilgar ace?"

"Next time is the last time." Sinclair said firmly. "Whatever the price, whatever the cost. Next time he dies."


	80. Chapter 80

79

Omelos

Caliban Sector

Night time was like a shroud worn around the face, a black veil that filtered out the bright glee of the sun and cast everything in shades of grey or black. It suited her outlook. The greyness hung everywhere her eyes glanced, day or night. It was not the addition of something that caused this but the lack of some fundamental truths that seemed to have robbed the vibrancy from the world. It was not always this way, but it seemed it.

She had also come to appreciate the quiet, and this place at least was silent. The windows and walls were soundproof, a side affect of being thickly armoured, and even on the busiest days the clank of machinery and roar of ion engines did not penetrate the conclave of this small corner of homeworld.

The silence gave her a chance to think, and increasingly that was a vital part of her day. She could look to the future, even dream of what might be, a time when the greyness fled and the blazing glow of a free and dynamic planet returned. A brave new world and a glorious future, or at least the chance for one.

The darkness was not complete, there was a dull green glow, a faint light source which made the items around her look eerie and ghostly. It came from the slowly cycling machine attached to the Supreme Warmaster in this place, his well guarded and fortified dwelling where he remained in a deathless slumber, one more victim of the schemes she had recently crushed.

It was a place of despair, a lost future permeating the walls and yet she felt more at home here than anywhere else on Omelos. This was the only place she could find something which still had a meaning for her, something she still had a care about. Within these four walls she could almost be herself again.

"Warmaster?"

She half turned her head, acknowledging the voice but not looking at the speaker in the darkness. Usually she didn't tolerate interruptions in this place, this realm of death was her sanctuary and was not to be polluted by the world outside, but in this case she made an exception due only to the speaker himself.

"Ari." She turned back to the window she was stood at, appearing grey in the dim evening light. "I already heard."

The young pilot stepped forward, eyes resting on his father unmoving on the bed before rising to Jha'dur, his surrogate siste rin many ways. This small room contained all that was no left of this great dynasty, the people who had sought to shape the future of Omelos and their people into something that would last eternally. Now they were spent, broken and battered by fate, killed on the battlefields of the League or subdued by treachery. Like the people around them they were on the brink of a final destruction, but it was not over yet.

"I thought I should come and report in person, it seemed the right thing to do."

"A sense of responsibility." Jha'dur replied distantly. "Very rare these days." Her eyes skimmed across the view, the buildings and factories stretching away in the distance. "Everyone is so ready to blame everyone else for our woes, the military for not fighting hard enough, the government for wrong decisions, me for being overconfident. The only people to blame are themselves."

"The humans destroyed our main Thorun factory." Ari'shan stated. "Along with fourteen ship yards and the local starbase. They also claimed four hundred and six of our fighters and nineteen light warships."

"It was a bold plan and well executed." Jha'dur nodded. "But it changes nothing, the Factory had served its purpose, it filled our ships with Dart fighters for the attack, we won't have an opportunity to replace them once the counter attack begins anyway."

"So it is time." He concluded.

"I'll be joining the Grand Fleet in a few days." She confirmed. "Do or die."

"Another human phrase." Ari smiled a little. "Ours is not to make reply, ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die."

"It's always been like that for people like us Ari." She answered calmly. "We don't ask for this, but we have to do what we can with whatever fate deals us. Don't analyse it, don't cry and weep at the injustice. Just fight or curl up and die. I chose the former, we all did, to do anything else would be to spit on the graves of our ancestors."

"Not much of a choice, fight or die."

"It's the only choice anyone has in the long run." Jha'dur answered. "That is the nature of life, it's survival Ari, nothing else. Live as long as you can before you die. And you do that by eliminating threats to survival, however you can."

"There is more to life Jha'dur."

She smiled. "Just distractions Ari. Decorations."

"There is a difference between living and just surviving." He answered. "Otherwise what is the point?"

"To prove you can, to beat those who want to destroy you and show your superiority." She answered plainly. "To look at the dead and dying and not be one of them."

"We all die one day."

"That Ari, remains to be seen." She chuckled faintly. "That final victory, that ultimate survival might not be as impossible as you think. You can thank the Drakh for that."

"Drakh?"

"Long story." She shrugged absently. "But already they gave me what I needed to correctly diagnose what happened to your father." She looked at Gar'shan. "I can save him."

Ari'shan blinked a few times, the news completely unexpected. After all this time he had accepted his father's state as unchangeable, this new revelation completely bowled him over. "A cure, you have a cure?"

She held up a smile phial of slightly reddish liquid. "I'm just waiting for the last results to come through, the test subject appeared to make a full recovery."

"Who did you find to volunteer for that?"

"It was actually Len'char." She smiled. "I said I'd give him a virus that would kill him in a day. He was very enthusiastic. Perhaps he has a death wish."

Ari shuddered a little. He had no love for the scheming former Warmaster, he was responsible for most of the problems his people now faced, but what Jha'dur was doing to him for months on end he wouldn't wish on anyone.

"He survived?"

"Happily yes." She nodded. "So I can continue my hobby. I'm just waiting to see if there are any side effects. I pumped him full of a dozen different agents, this new compound cured every single one of them. A universal remedy Ari, imagine that."

"Is that even possible?"

"I have it here in my hand." She said in slight awe. "My greatest work so far, and the last step in my ultimate triumph. This compound will stop illness, and I am very, very close to creating another one that will prevent aging itself."

"You could live forever."

"That is the point Ari."

"But what would you have to live for?"

She considered for a moment before answering.

"Revenge."

Ari'shan changed the subject back.

"I managed to bring most of the veteran squadrons through Tirrith in one piece, about sixty Thoruns in all."

"Good, I'll be assigning you to the Sekhmet group. They are finishing their final outfitting now."

"As you order."

"I'm giving them the best crews I can find, survivors of the Strike fleets." Jha'dur mentioned. "I'll take one myself, my old Dreadnought still isn't combat ready."

"There wasn't much left of it, and it was an exceptionally complicated ship to make in the first place, more so than a normal Dreadnought." Ari considered.

"Still a shame, I would have liked to have fought my last battle from her."

"I doubt this will be the last battle Warmaster, the Drazi…"

"It will be for me." She said in return. "If we lose, well none of us will be getting out alive. If we win it means the human and League fleets will be ravaged and unable to hold all that territory they just liberated. They will sue for an armistice and we will accept on our terms, we'll threaten to burn down the League again if they don't and those poor excuses for civilizations don't even have the pathetic fleets they used at the start of the war. Easy slaughter if we wanted it. One day we will."

"But you doubt the Drazi will accept?"

"No, they'll fight to the death." Jha'dur reasoned. "But it will be Dar'sen who commands that war, it is his right. He will command all Dilgar naval forces while I return home and try to save our people. Well, those worth saving."

"Everyone is worth saving."

Jha'dur smiled widely. "Someday Ari the Imperium will need a leader like you." Her face returned to its solemn stare, the smile fading. "But not today. This day the Imperium needs someone like me, we're still living by the sword. Just surviving."

"I met the human pilot again. The one I told you about."

"David Sinclair." Jha'dur spoke. "At least that is what our intelligence says, I think they are probably correct now. We've finally created a first class intelligence agency, two years too late."

"I let him go."

She raised an eyebrow. "Let him?"

"He was escorting a damaged fighter home, flying slowly and predictably. A fresh recruit could have taken him. There is no honour in shooting someone in the back while he helps a wounded friend."

"You wouldn't be the man you are if you had attacked the human." Jha'dur stated. "I don't need to tell you what I would have done, you already know, but I respect your decision. It is who you are, and at this late stage I don't want you to change."

"I don't think I can."

"We all change Ari, not always for the better." She said bitterly.

"We never change inside, the person you were at five is the person you are when you die. You just pretend to be different."

"I wish it was true, a few years ago I'd have agreed. Not anymore."

"You can't change your soul."

"No, but you can lose it." Jha'dur answered. "And whatever is left afterwards, that isn't you anymore."

"You can't lose something that crucial, heart and soul, it's always part of you."

"Just a few years Ari." She repeated quietly. "Look what happened."

She raised her eyes, looking at the man reflected in the window.

"Move your fighters to the Sekhmets, take anyone you need to fill up the numbers."

"Yes Warmaster."

"I'm promoting you to Battle Master and commander of the Sekhmet Air group. A lot will rest on you doing your job well."

"I will not fail Warmaster."

"I know." She nodded. "That will be all Battle Master. Dismiss."

She watched the officer leave through the reflected window and resumed her silence. She sometimes forgot other people had lost as much as she had, and that Ari'shan was one of them. He hadn't been affected in the same way Jha'dur had by her losses and she didn't know why. Perhaps it was a flaw in her personality, or maybe she had just given up on the future and he hadn't.

A beep on her personal communicator told her the awaited message had arrived. She opened her computer to read the data, the rows of numbers scrolling as expected confirming the effectiveness of her new drug.

Len'char was alive and well, in fact he was in perfect health even after months of torture. No side affects, no lingering pain from earlier, even his genetic defects from birth had been ironed out. He was virtually perfect just like the Drakh had been. No flaws, no weakness, an example of pure biological perfection. She'd enjoy pulling him apart again.

The drug had come from her examination of the Drakh and their physiology. She had dissected some of the prisoners, fed them through her best devices and performed a number of tests on them. Their immune system was incredible and had formed the basis of her new compound, but it was in their brains she found the biggest surprise.

In most races she had found a certain structure within the brain they all shared, they shouldn't of course having evolved on entirely different worlds, but most did. She had theorized it was a sign they had been tampered with, their evolution directed or manipulated in someway. She had even found it in Dilgar. She had surmised an old and clearly very advanced race had meddled genetically with the races in near space for some reason, but she didn't know what.

The Drakh didn't have this. They had plenty of signs of tampering, everything about them had been tweaked in fact, but it was a different type of tampering designed to augment them. Whoever had changed the races of the League, the Dilgar and even humans hadn't touched the Drakh, and in that she had found her final clue.

She had scrutinized the Drakh, found what made them different and with difficulty catalogued the exact molecular changes between the Drakh and the other races. It was the biological key she needed, the doorway to immortality waited for her to open it.

Finding this key had been amazingly complicated, if she didn't have Drakh bodies in front of her she would never have found it, the complexity of the engineering in their bodies was centuries if not millennia beyond Dilgar medical knowledge, and even her enemies had to accept the Dilgar were masters of biology. Having this knowledge in front of her was awe inspiring, but also a cruel twist of the knife. She could see what was needed now, what the shape of immortality looked like, but she had absolutely no idea how to make her own version.

It seemed her work was far from done, all she had done was nothing compared to what was ahead. It was just one last step, but the gulf between knowing what was needed and actually achieving the end goal was absolutely enormous. Whatever this core component of immortality actually was, reproducing it was a mystery that seemed beyond her ability to solve. For now anyway. She had not come so far to just give up now, Jha'dur enjoyed rising to the challenge, to set herself the task of doing the impossible. The old Jha'dur would have leapt at the opportunity and the triumph of making such a breakthrough, but the woman she was now just sighed at another hurdle to overcome.

She would not give up, she would keep her focus and keep working, but before then she had another impossible task to achieve. She had to break Earth Force.

Carefully she knelt beside the Supreme Warmaster and took her serum, transferring it into a syringe with great care and attention.

"I don't know if this is an act of mercy or an act of damnation." She said quietly. "Whether you might prefer to keep sleeping instead of facing this world and we've done to it in your slumber."

She held the syringe by his arm but did not push the needle beneath his skin.

"Would you try to endure what has happened, do you want to wake up just to grieve by the graves of your children? Would you curse me for bringing this to you?"

She looked down.

"I don't know what to do. I have led our people, but it hasn't gotten any better. You built this Imperium, and I let it all go."

She closed her eyes for a while, then injected the serum, pressing the liquid into the old leader.

"The Imperium needs you back, you are the only one who can give it the direction it needs."

She withdrew the needle and dabbed the small puncture wound.

"I can't do this alone anymore." She stated. "I started this war on the front lines, and that is where I will end it. Live or die this is my last battle, Dar'sen can take the fleets and you can rule the Council. I'm finished, done, I don't want this anymore!"

She stood with a look of angry determination on her face.

"I'm going to finish this war, I'm going to inflict such death and devastation that no one in a thousand light years will dare attack us again! I will give you the victory you deserve my leader, I will give you this victory to build the new Imperium on and seal it with the blood of the vanquished! You give us an empire to last forever, and I'll give you a race that will live forever. No more politics, no more schemes or treachery. When this is done I am going to be the person I was born to be, I am going to finish my work, and then, then when our nation is strong and our people safe, then there will be a reckoning."

She turned and headed for the door.

"I love a good reckoning."

Transfer point Camelot

Brakir

Headquarters, Liberation Navy and Earth Expeditionary Force

Francis was having a hard time keeping up with Vic Chapel in the large promenade that circled the station, the whole place was packed with people going to or fro with virtually no space to move without hitting something or someone.

"I guess they underestimated the traffic they were going to get here." He stated.

"Ya think?" Chapel called back.

"We're gonna need a bigger station!"

"And this is just one wave!" Chapel informed. "We've got two more on the way!"

It wasn't just the station that was busy, ground bases were full of soldiers and supply officers, depots were stacked high with weapons, munitions and spare parts all across Brakir. A vast conglomerate of freighters hung in huge groups nearby, some were from Markab or part of the Vree guilds but most belonged to the Belt Alliance. They had worked tirelessly for weeks, months even dragging hardware from the Earth Alliance out to the staging areas across the League. They had virtually emptied the military depots within the Alliance, moving virtually the entire stock piled might of Earth Force out here to feed the big push that was inevitable. The war factories were churning out fuel and ammunition constantly in colossal quantities, but with supply lines stretching over two weeks from Earth to the front the munitions piled up here were the most vital to the fleet.

All of this effort was designed to support the actions of the other ships in orbit, the mighty vessels of Earth Force in the League. Francis had been duly awed by the force he had passed on the way to the station, and the ships over Brakir was just a portion of the total force assembled for the attack. It was a massing of force not seen in a thousand years, even the great Centauri conquest fleets had not matched this level of power. Both the Centarum and the Kha'ri would be watching this event very closely, as of course would the populations of the League and Earth itself.

The two agents turned off the main promenade and into a quieter side corridor before proceeding to their destination. Half way down they were stopped by a pair of Marines who carefully checked their identity, a guard dog confirming they were indeed human and not Dilgar agents.

"Good to see people paid attention to our recommendations." Chapel gave the dog a scratch as he went past. Despite a lot of research the humble guard dog remained the best weapon to detect the all but invisible Dilgar Spectres with, and a row of sharp teeth came in pretty handy too.

They walked along to the last door in the corridor, checked in with two more Marines, and then were finally allowed access. Security was kept tight for good reason, within the room were the leaders of the Allied military, space and ground forces combined, along with highly detailed intelligence and the full plans for the next stage of the war. If the Dilgar had been able to get an agent in there it could have ruined months of hard work and preparation.

"Agent Chapel, Agent O'Leary. Good to see you again." They were greeted by Admiral Hamato, voice as measured as always. "Please sit down."

The two men found their places among the dignitaries and waited for the Admiral to commence his speaking. Hamato for his part took his time, carefully assembling his notes before addressing the group.

"Those of us in this room now represent every major group, agency or force involved in this war. Navy, Army, Intelligence, Diplomatic, al aspects of this war and the creators of our post war policy. We will decide the shape of the new galaxy, by our actions in this war and after. You either lead or represent the most powerful people in our great alliance, and right now we will together set our final path in this war."

He paused.

"Our target is Balos, and we go in six days."

The room shared a few glances, the news was not unexpected but the haste they were going to have to make was new to some especially in the League.

"I need to know from each agency what we have, what we can commit and if anything is going to hold us back." Hamato stated simply. "League forces?"

"The Markab Navy is always ready Admiral." Grand Master Valna said with confidence. We have ground forces standing by, but few transports to move them. Our main contribution will be warships."

"The Vree will send you all the ships we can." Ambassador Xyten confirmed through his electronic translator.

"The Descari army is ready for this attack Admiral."

"And so is ours." Admiral Broma of the Brakiri added. "We have mobilised our best troops, air mobile infantry divisions, and place them at your command. We also offer troop ships and heavy landers capable of atmospheric landing."

"Very helpful Admiral." Hamato nodded.

"We will also send what ships we have, several hundred light cruisers and a few Carriers and Avioki heavy cruisers." Broma added. "We haven't recovered our fleet from the Dilgar blockade yet, but our army is eager and ready."

"The other League worlds are providing token forces." David Sheridan spoke for the diplomatic community. "The Cascor lost most of their carriers but have loaded as many fighters as they could on converted freighters. They are good pilots and good craft, they'll make a difference."

He smiled.

"Then there's the Gaim."

There was a little murmur and shuffling at the name, the room waiting expectantly to hear more.

"The Gaim Queens have provided an unlimited number of warriors for the battle." Sheridan reported. "Our only limit is getting them into action."

"The Gaim themselves helped out with this." Ambassador Itala took up the news. "It seems they can put their warriors in a sort of hibernation, a dormant state. They form a sort of chrysalis around themselves like a cocoon. They can stay like that for years it seems."

"Saves us feeding them in transit." Sheridan said. "Probably so the Queens could keep a huge army in storage without it eating the Hive's food stores in a couple of days."

"Also the cocoons are strong and hardy." Itala said. "They can exist in the cold of space and don't need heated quarters, unmodified cargo pods will do."

"So we've been filling cargo pods with them." Sheridan said. "And I mean literally, they had Brakiri mining excavators scooping up cocoons by the dozen and pouring them into cargo pods. We packed them in tight. When the time comes we drop the pods from orbit, they deploy parachutes and hit the ground. The Gaim assure us their soldiers can survive this. Then they break out and, well, you can imagine the rest."

"After so long in hibernation they're going to be hungry." Itala said. "I would suggest dropping them far from your own soldiers, just in case."

"I aim to drop them behind the main drop zones so they can rampage through the Dilgar rear echelons." Hamato replied. "How many did we get?"

"Five million."

Some of the group gasped, others chuckled a little.

"Well then, this should be quite interesting. Any special requests?"

"The Gaim are sending a new Queen to control the army, without her they'll just be uncontrolled very scary animals." Sheridan said. "They'd like to put her on the flagship of the fleet attacking Balos, they heard our Dreadnoughts are almost indestructible and it was their only condition."

"General Mendez is going to lead the planetary assault with the Seventh Fleet." Hamato said. "Give the Gaim full access to his vessel to prepare it for their needs."

"Hernandez is going to hate that sir."

"He can put it in writing after the Gaim slaughter the Dilgar reserve forces and supply teams." Hamato stated simply. "General Biek, what about Earth Forces?"

A green uniformed human spoke next. General Biek was a middle aged officer of South African origin with a strong face and a crew cut. He looked more like a Sergeant Major than a General and was the man Denisov had assigned to command the ground battle on Balos.

"Sir, I've mobilised the First and Second Earth Force Armies totalling a quarter of a million personnel, forty thousand vehicles and eight thousand battle tanks. We have enough transports to deploy them all on the same day, with First Army landing within fifteen minutes of the landing zone being declared safe, and Second Army less than six hours later."

"Very good, reserves?"

"Third Army will be brought up to Brakir after the troop ships have landed our initial forces. We can have them in action five days later if necessary. We will also have the First Airborne Corps on close reserve ready to land within ten hours."

Francis recalled his friend Dom was serving in the Airborne Corps with his unit.

"Originally sir the Airborne Corps was slated to be the first troops on planet." Biek stated. "However the Gaim will now have that role, and the Brakiri Airborne Divisions will be the ones to secure our drop zones."

"Our Airborne people were the first on Tiree at the start of the war." Hamato recalled. "I think they can take this one a little more easy. We'll move them in to replace units on the front lines if necessary, keep them at third degree readiness."

"Yes sir."

"We'll use the Brakiri landers to put our armoured brigades down first, can they handle tanks Admiral Broma?"

"Yes Admiral, they can."

"Good, better to get our heaviest units down quickly and cohesively." The Human Commander noted. "Belt Alliance ships are already gathered to bring in supplies on a constant basis, and we have real time intelligence. Agent Chapel please."

Vic took his turn in the briefing.

"We've made contact with resistance groups on Balos, thanks to help from the Free Balosian Navy and the Abbai ship Syontar we have a secure link on the ground."

"What have we learned so far?"

"The Balosians have given us some good locations for our landing sites, large, flat, easily defended and away from enemy activity. Also clear of any remaining civilians so we can nuke the place without worrying about collateral damage."

"General Biek, after the briefing I'd like you to take a look at those locations with the command team and pick the best one."

"Yes sir."

"They've also pinpointed a number of orbital defence sites." Chapel continued. "They'll mark them for attack and commence guerrilla raids as we arrive to keep them from responding before we shoot them from above."

"And this is why we picked Balos." Hamato said. "Scans from Tirrith showed an imprisoned and vastly reduced population. They need our help and we will give it, but they can't help us liberate them. The Balosians can."

"Our numbers show over a billion Balosians are still alive compared to a few tens of millions of Tirrithans." Chapel agreed. "It's a hard choice to have to make, but we can save more lives by freeing Balos before Tirrith."

"Our recent attack also reduced Tirrith's strategic value by taking out the Thorun plant." Hamato added. "But Balos remains one of the biggest warship production facilities in the galaxy. A major strategic target, a large population to be liberated and people on the ground ready to fight with us against the Dilgar."

"And fight effectively." Chapel pointed out. "The Balosians are lethal soldiers, the fact they've lasted all this time proves that."

"It is a world the Dilgar cannot afford to lose, they will fight for it, and that is the most vital part of this plan." Hamato stated. "We need to force the Dilgar to give battle."

Hamato turned to a map. "Intelligence shows the Dilgar have six fleets of nearly a thousand ships each in action. Two of those fleets are on the Drazi front and thanks to Warleader Stro'kath and Admiral Ferguson they will stay there to hold back a renewed Drazi push. One more fleet is holding the Hyach and Abbai sectors, and one is in training at Omelos. That leaves two active fleets which we expect are being held in reserve under Jha'dur. Just over two thousand ships centred on the Home fleet."

He returned his gaze to the group.

"We will draw them in, destroy them, and make a full assault on Omelos against minimal opposition."

Broma raised a point. "Respectfully Admiral, that sounds a little risky."

"Far from it Admiral." Hamato replied. "With their mobile forces gone Balos is quite safe, we leave one fleet there to secure it and support our ground forces while everyone else pushes for Omelos. We will coordinate this with Stro'kath to keep Dar'sen pinned on Tithalis and detach one other fleet to engage the ships holding Hyach and Abbai space. The rest of our forces will attack Omelos, sweep aside the trainee fleet garrisoned there and force a surrender."

"Can we be sure the Dilgar will take the bait?" Chapel asked. "They might abandon Balos anyway."

"Correct Agent Chapel, which is why we need to sweeten the trap. The Balosian fleet goes in first."

"To what end sir?"

"The Free Balosians have been a thorn for years, the Dilgar hate them with a passion." Hamato informed. "They have been trying to pin them down and destroy them for a long time, we will make it look like they are trying to liberate Balos alone. Even Jha'dur couldn't resist moving forces in system to engage them. That is when we deploy Seventh fleet to assault the planet, and Fourth fleet to engage any Dilgar warships."

"And when Jha'dur commits the rest of her reserves to take on our initial force…"

"… Then we hit her with more ships." Hamato finished. "And drive immediately for Omelos."

"If I can speak freely." Chapel raised. "It seems a little complicated Admiral. Why not just hammer Balos with the whole fleet in one go, then go do the same to Omelos?"

"Because we need to draw in the Dilgar to Balos and trap them."

"But with the balance of forces so heavily in our favour, why trap them at all?"

"I'd rather fight Jha'dur at Balos on our terms then face her at Omelos on her terms." Hamato answered again. "Even with our strength she can hurt us, and I'd like to bring as any of our people home as possible in time for Christmas."

"Or Hannukah, or Eid, or whatever." Chapel added.

"By the end of the standard year." Hamato clarified. "We've been out here a long time, morale isn't getting any better and our ships have already had one refit due to wear and tear. The longer we are out here the harder it is to keep public opinion favourable, to keep spares and new recruits coming in, to continue waging the war. This war is the biggest expenditure in Earth history. We need to end it fast."

"I'm just a little worried we might be going too fast Admiral."

"All our data shows the Dilgar are at breaking point. If we leave it too long they will recover and make the attack that much harder. The sooner we go the better, we've got them on the run."

Transfer Point Atlantis

Comac System

Earth Alliance/Brakiri Joint jurisdiction.

They had barely arrived when they were jumped, the black fighters swarming from the tail of a comet without warning and without mercy. The four Tigers on patrol duty didn't stand a chance, gunned down before they could throttle up their engines and respond. But their loss, quick as it was warned the other nearby Allied fighters of the danger, and Sinclair prepared to do his duty one more time.

It was one squadron, fourteen Thorun Dart fighters riding on fire and clipping through the debris of their kills. A Brakiri squadron tried to take them head on and met a fiery end for their troubles, a Markab flight swooped in but proved no match for the elite Dilgar pilots. There was only one unit that could truly stop them.

The Ghost Riders did what was asked of them. They were tired and under strength but still took on the elite black fighters with courage and determination. Two Furies fell in moments, a bitter loss for the close knit squadron but a loss more than avenged by the rest of the human pilots. Sinclair fell in behind one of the Darts, close enough to see the burns around the engine and the chipped paint on the leading edges of the wings. It attempted to evade but to no avail, and Sinclair added one more tally to his victory total.

Then he caught sight of the other fighter, the red marked Ace, black Thorun seemingly daubed in the blood of his victims. He came out of nowhere, weaving between the duelling fighters and honing in right on Sinclair. He turned his Starfury to meet the attacker, cannons blazing as he rolled and spun to avoid the shower of returned bolter fire.

The two craft rushed at each other, the two pilots head to head not giving an inch. All his effort, all his skill was tested as the range decreased on the Thorun became more accurate. One of the bolts cut through his upper wing, another swiped past and smashed one of his canopy windows in a gust of escaping air, his sealed flight suit now his only defence against space. In return he shot chunks out of the dart fighter, setting one of its engines aflame but apparently not even fazing the pilot.

They both held their course at full speed, the distance shrinking at an alarming rate until all Sinclair could see was the front of the Thorun's nose aimed at his chest.

"Seriously Commander, you need to get a good night's sleep."

Sinclair sat upright in the uncomfortable little chair, blinking in the blindingly harsh white light for a few moments as he sought his bearings.

"They gave you quarters on the station." Bill Hague settled down in another chair on the other side of the small room. "I bet you haven't even seen them yet."

He shook away his drowsiness and forced himself to become fully awake, the lingering memory of the dream still disturbingly real and precise in his mind.

"I'm fine." He replied simply. "Did I miss anything?"

"We made the news." Hague informed. "Our raid was a great success."

"Not for all of us."

"There'll probably be medals involved, the folks back home needed a good victory, a nice big fight for us to win to prove we're doing our job out here."

"I'm not bothered about medals anymore, we've got one reward Bill, getting home in one piece."

"Amen to that boss." Hague agreed.

Sinclair ran his hand over his head. "What time is it?"

"Just after Nineteen hundred." Hague answered "Which means you've been sat in that chair for eleven hours. You should let me take over."

"I should stay, just in case."

"Don't worry Commander, I can take over for a while."

"I just don't want her to wake up all alone."

The two pilots were crammed into a small room in the medical section of the station orbiting the planet, the room assigned to Lieutenant Commander April Green. She lay still and silent on a simple bed attached to various monitoring equipment beeping rhythmically to the time of her heart. Her chest rose and fell in long steady breaths as an oxygen mask fed her lungs.

Her injuries had been severe and life threatening, but the medical teams had stabilised her on the Carrier and hastily transferred her to the better provisioned medical bay on Atlantis Station as soon as they returned. She had undergone a series of operations which had saved her life, and now the bandaged and weakened officer slept on while the universe proceeded around her increasingly busy and frantic.

The Illustrious was on standby like most other ships while the squadrons rearmed and accepted replacements, Sinclair had lost four people to the Elite Dilgar Thoruns. Two had been fatalities while two more had been injured and were due to go home. One of them was April.

"Doctors say there isn't any head trauma." Sinclair mentioned. "But she took a lot of punishment, lot of blood loss and broken bones. She was very lucky to get back to the Carrier."

"I didn't think we'd make it you know, we had three fighters on our tail." Hague said. "Looking at the sensor logs, one of them was the Ace, the Black Knight."

"Black Knight." Sinclair dismissed with scorn. "Never surprises me when some moron invents a name like that. He's just another pilot, albeit a damn good one."

"One of our replacements is a transfer from Hatchet squadron." Hague remarked. "He says that his old Commander got chatting to the Cascan ambassador, turns out she was a pilot who fought this guy."

"And she lived to tell the tale."

"Well the Dilgar basically gutted her whole fleet and left them to die in the middle of nowhere. But this Black Knight, he tows her into hyperspace and puts her on course for home."

Sinclair grunted. "That true?"

"I don't know, but I hear this guy is supposed to fight honourably. He doesn't shoot civilians, he only fights those who accept his challenge and he lives for single combat. And it sounds like his greatest challenge is, well, you."

"Now I know you're making that up."

"Nah, this I got on authority." Hague responded. "The Dilgar nabbed a few of our Furies from a supply ship they hit. They turned them over to this Black Knight for evaluation, let their best pilot play with them."

"Makes sense."

"Well he painted up the fighter he used to look just like yours. My friend in Naval Intel saw the pictures a scout satellite snapped. I mean its disturbing, but it proves one thing."

"And that is?"

"This guy respects you, enough to let you go when we were getting April home even though we were easy kills."

"He's a Dilgar Bill, they're animals, monsters."

"But not this one."

"I read the reports, the official ones from the EIA, he's the son of their dictator! Best buddies with Deathwalker!"

"Yeah but look at his actions Commander, look at what he's done." Hague replied. "He isn't like the others, he's like us. A real pilot trying to fight fair."

"Don't make me laugh Bill." Sinclair scoffed. "He's one of them, look what he did to April! Look what he did to who knows how many others! They say he's responsible for at least two Squadrons worth of Furies, two squadrons Bill!"

"And how many Dilgar did you bring down? How many Squadrons sir? It's war, it's what we all do."

"But this guy enjoys it. He enjoys it Bill, what the hell is wrong with that?"

Hague sighed. "I don't know, but like I said, he doesn't kill just anybody. Maybe he likes the challenge, hell I know a few of our guys who are the same."

"He's a better pilot than me Bill."

"I don't think so, he's come off second best in every encounter so far."

"He's still alive, and he's still shooting down our people."

"So we stop him."

"No, I'll stop him. If what you say is true I'm going to be the one he comes for. Single combat."

"We're all here to back you up sir."

"He's too smart to take us all on, he'll hang back or just leave and fight somebody else." Sinclair said. "I'm going to have to do this alone."

"Maybe lure him into an ambush?"

"He won't fall for that. No, I'm going to have to take him in person. I'll either kill him, or shoot him up enough for you to finish off."

"Me?" Hague sounded surprised.

"After April you're the best pilot in the unit, better than guys who've been flying for ten years. Even if I wing him he'll still be deadly, don't underestimate him."

"You'll beat him first time Commander, I'll just have a spectator seat."

Sinclair growled a laugh. "Might happen, but if it doesn't Bill, get him. Clear?"

"Clear, but it won't happen."

"Well we can hope." Sinclair recalled the vivid dream he had woken from. It wasn't the first on he'd experienced on the matter.

"Did you here we won a battle in Drazi space?" Hague changed the subject.

"That's good news." Sinclair nodded. "We also got our new orders this morning, I'll be briefing the squadron after we've eaten."

"Does that mean we've picked a target?"

"Balos." Sinclair said. "Worst kept secret in history, it's the obvious target."

"Maybe that's the point, to guarantee the Dilgar show up?" Hague considered plainly.

"This guy will." Sinclair said firmly. "I can feel it, he'll be there. Our orders are to wait with the reserve fleet, we won't be in the first wave. After the raid we're getting a bit of a rest."

"I think I can live with that." Hague nodded. "Makes a change from leading the way."

Sinclair climbed out of the chair and stretched. "I had no idea how torturous hospital chairs really were."

"It's like they don't want you hanging around." Hague grinned.

"I'm going to get something from the vending machines, want anything while I'm there?"

"Something that doesn't taste like sand."

"No promises."

"And coffee please Commander, like you said, she shouldn't have to wake up alone."

The Commander walked awkwardly out of the room as his legs woke up, still a little numb from the poorly designed chair. He fished in his pockets for his identicard and then sought the nearest source of food.

Hague took over duties as sentinel, keeping a watch on the sleeping pilot as she lay still before him.

"You know April, your only the third person on record to survive the Black Knight?" he spoke quietly, not sure if she could hear him or not. "Maybe fourth."

She remained still.

"You'll be going back to Earth on the next ship, free ride home." He smiled. "But don't even think you are getting out of our date, I earned that fair."

Very suddenly he saw her smile, and it took a second for him to register it.

"Only…" her voice spoke weakly. "Only if you dance straighter than you fly."

Hague quickly pressed the call button on the panel beside the bed alerting the on duty doctors that she had come around.

"April! You're back!"

"Yeah." She whispered. "Guess my brain didn't get minced after all."

At that moment Sinclair returned, arms full of treats.

"Hi Dave, I got better." She greeted.

The squadron leader released a genuine laugh of joy. "So that's your secret? Eight day beauty sleep?"

"I have a reputation to maintain." She smiled widely. "It's good to be back, I didn't know if I would be."

"We never doubted it." Hague confirmed gleefully. "You're far too pretty to die."

"I thought you were going to say I was too good a pilot to die!" She mocked indignation. "Thanks Bill, really, that helps my confidence no end."

"You have a ticket back to Earth." Sinclair informed. "I'm jealous."

"Sounds great, but I'd rather stay here, get back in the action."

"No way April." Sinclair shook his head. "You took a lot of damage, if you can name it, you broke it."

"Yeah." Hague agreed. "I think the medical term is mushed."

"Huh." She frowned. "Is that why I can't feel anything below my neck?"

"How many men have you said that to?" Hague chuckled. "But this time it's painkillers."

"You'll be fine, you just need time to recover." Sinclair said.

"And time to rest." A doctor remarked with that stern tone almost universal to the medical profession. "Time to go gentlemen."

"I've been resting for a week!" April complained.

"He's right, you need to just relax." Sinclair confirmed. "Besides, what would your fiancé say if he heard you had strange men in your room at night?"

"You two aren't strange." She said in response. "Well okay, Bill is pretty odd."

"Thanks, truly."

"But you aren't strangers. You stayed with me, you got me home in one piece. Mostly."

"And now you have to do the rest." Sinclair said peacefully. "Rest, go home and get better. We'll be waiting for you when you recover."

"What if I miss the war?"

"We'll send you a postcard from Omelos." Sinclair grinned.

"Don't forget about me out there!" She demanded. "I'll be there in spirit keeping you all safe!"

"We won't forget." Hague affirmed.

"Commander." She said finally as they filed out. "Don't do anything stupid."

He smiled. "Tradition."

Council Building

Omelos

"They will be coming." Warmaster Yor'lothan growled in his deep monotone. "And it will be Balos."

"It will be Tirrith." Warmaster Dru'tal said almost dismissively. "It is obvious, they already launched a softening up attack. They'll hit there."

"It wasn't a softening attack, it was a raid, one they handled brilliantly." Yor'lothan spat back. "They will hit Balos!"

"Balos is a fortress, Tirrith is wide open." Dru'tal returned. "Use your wits, unless your age is clouding your mind?"

"If you think I'm losing my mind maybe we should go outside and settle this the traditional way, I'd bet it is the first time you will ever have drawn your sword."

"I'll cut you in half for that insult!" Dru'tal snarled. "Old man or not, your blood will be mine!"

The blazing argument was interrupted by a long slow laugh from the head of the table, a sound emerging from the chair Jha'dur was sat in.

"We stand on the brink of Armageddon and all you can do is stroke your egos." She smiled widely. "Challenge each other to restore your fragile pride. Need I remind you there are more pressing matters?"

"What is more pressing than the honour of our Council Jha'dur?" Dru'tal demanded.

"I honestly do not believe you just asked that." She replied.

"If we do not uphold the authority of the Council, how can we lead?" he asked. "Where does our right to command go if we cannot reach a consensus?"

"We already have a consensus." Jha'dur said in a bored tone. "I say something, you listen, nod, pretend you agree and then you go and follow my orders without question or deviation."

He sighed. "That isn't how the Council is supposed to work Jha'dur."

"And it breaks my heart every time I have to rise above the petty bickering to save our race." She fixed him with a cold stare. "Except I no longer have a heart to break. Well, except for my collection in Lab Nine."

"No one hear will question your contribution…" Dru'tal began.

"Because they have a self preservation instinct." She cut in.

"…but the Council was set up the way it was for a reason, to offer options and alternatives. To give our people many voices, not just one like the days of the ruling Emperors." Dru'tal said concisely. "All I ask is to fulfil my duty to my people."

Jha'dur did not answer at once, gazing into the face of the Warmaster before dropping her shoulders. "Very well Dru'tal, what is your plan to save Omelos?"

"We move every ship to Tirrith and meet Earth Force in open battle." He stated.

"Thank you for not ruining my expectations of the Council." Jha'dur nodded. "You have excelled yourself in this master piece. The war will be over in a week."

"It might take longer than a week." He replied. "We would have to…"

"It would take a week because that's how long the barely damaged human Navy would take to re-arm, fly to Omelos and nuke us from orbit after you lose our whole fleet by giving Earth Force exactly what they want."

Dru'tal's face turned dark. "I suppose you would have us run away again?"

Jha'dur returned a smile. "Not this time. But we will fight on our terms, not on human terms."

"So Earth will do whatever you want them to will they?" Dru'tal scorned. "How helpful of them!"

"As a matter of fact they will." She returned evenly. "Know your enemy Dru'tal. All I need to do is set up the right circumstances and I can have Admiral Hamato doing whatever I want him to. I can time his attacks, pick his deployment zones, even determine the forces he will send."

"How can you do this?"

"Because I'm a Warmaster." She chided. "A real one, it's what I am here for."

"The only way you can do all that would be by magic."

"You don't know the first thing about strategy Dru'tal." Jha'dur tutted as if to a child. "This is why I am in charge, and you are not."

"By your own admission, Gar'shan is still in charge, and you are just acting on his behalf."

"That is true, and when he awakes I intend to step down. Permanently."

"Easy to say." Sen'la jumped in. "he's never waking up."

"Actually he should be awake in a few months, he showed the first signs of recovery yesterday." Jha'dur reported. "Gar'shan is coming back, and what do you think he will make of all this?"

"Do you mean the part where you assumed control of the Council?" Sen'la wondered. "Or when you killed or tortured your rivals?"

She glared at him. "I was thinking more about the conspiracy to poison him and take control of the council from him and his nominated successor, who is me by the way."

"I'm sure he'll have a lot to say."

She looked at Sen'la thoughtfully. "A few months ago you virtually wet yourself just living on the same planet as me, now you throw accusations my way? Did you suddenly grow some nerve Sen'la?"

"I have a duty to my race."

"Just like Dru'tal does." She looked at the other Warmaster. "How very interesting."

"Our people give us courage and determination." Dru'tal announced. "We are simply their servants."

"You heard I was leading the fleet in person and expect Earth Force will kill me." Jha'dur reasoned. "So you think you can start scoring political points from me. Very dangerous game."

"Perhaps, but unlike Len'char we have support among industry and finance." Dru'tal answered. "It would not be so easy to explain our sudden disappearance."

"I wouldn't bet my life on that." She chuckled a little. "Like you just did."

"Believe it or not, I do think you are the right person to lead us." Dru'tal said. "And I think you are our best chance of winning."

"I'm touched."

"But when the war is over, Omelos won't need you anymore."

"In less than five years it won't need any of us, or have you forgotten the reason for this war?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

The chamber was tingling with tension, no one had dared stand up to Jha'dur since she had assumed control of the Council and there was a morbid fascination among the surviving Warmasters to see what happened next. They might have supported Dru'tal in principle, but their fear of Jha'dur still ruled their decisions.

"I think we've gone a little off topic." She observed.

"We have." Nodded Dru'tal. "You may tell the Council your plan, and we will vote on which to use. Mine or yours."

"The Council's records on planning without Gar'shan or myself is not exactly spotless." She noted. "As I recall you all managed to give the Drazi an almost free pass to Omelos, and then invaded Markab and provoked Earth into war. I am less than impressed."

"Still, we must observe due process, don't you think?"

"If it makes you happy." She allowed. "The humans will attack Balos, it is plain for anyone to see."

"And you have evidence?"

"We track supply lines, monitor communication volume, filter decoys and maintain reconnaissance missions. We know where they are massing and why. Tirrith was a diversion, perhaps just a recon in force. Balos is the target."

"Will you fight them?" Dru'tal asked.

"Yes, but not at once."

"Why?"

"Because there is wisdom in not revealing our true strength early. We show them enough to force Hamato to take our bait, and then, then we'll see what they're really made of."

"So you draw them to Balos and destroy them?"

"Exactly the same thing Hamato will try to do to us." Jha'dur nodded. "We beat him at his own game. He believes he is bringing us into a trap of his own making, in truth he's walking onto a battle field I've been preparing for months."

"So far so good." Dru'tal allowed. "But how do you make him fight on your terms?"

"I'm not going to tell you."

He frowned. "I don't think I heard that properly."

"Then I'll say it louder." Jha'dur replied cheerfully. "I'm not going to tell you!"

"The Council needs a full picture to vote on your plan."

"I'm not asking for a vote, I'm just going to do it."

"You can't!"

"Stop me."

"If you make me…" Dru'tal lowered his voice.

"Oh, fantastic!" Jha'dur clapped her hands and laughed. "I'm getting threatened by one of Len'char's cronies!"

"I have the legal right to arrest you Jha'dur."

She laughed even harder, teeth bared in mirth. "Brilliant! Keep going, this is great!"

"I can have the courts…"

"Courts!" she roared. "Oh, I haven't laughed this much in ages!" She wheezed. "It's going to be a tragedy when I gut you!"

"If you don't obey the law I will have you arrested." Dru'tal said firmly. "Gods know we've got enough evidence."

Her laughter slowly faded, she paused to wipe away a tear before regarding the Warmaster.

"I am actually surprised by how stupid that was, I mean genuinely shocked."

"That I finally stood up to your tyranny?"

"That you did it to my face." She had to force herself not to laugh again. "There isn't a person in the galaxy that can't figure out what happens next Dru'tal."

He smiled. "That's because you don't know what support I have."

"It isn't the Drakh is it?" She wondered. The look on his face told her it probably was. "Ah, bad news Dru'tal. First they were using you. Second, they're staying with me now. In Lab Nine. Hope that didn't ruin your little coup."

"No, because I have other support." Dru'tal said keeping a straight face despite a pit opening in his chest.

"Oh, you mean the Eighth infantry division that is currently garrisoned in the city?" She asked quizzically. "The same division that has just lost its command staff in a tragic accident involving a stalled engine and a freight train?"

"I mean…"

"The Courts?" she wondered. "Didn't you hear the circle of Supreme Justice judges were tragically killed when a guided missile in a nearby munitions factory misfired and wiped out the whole High Court building?"

Dru'tal's face was turning very white.

"Ahhh, I bet you meant the Governor of Tirrith." She leaned back in her chair. "That's why you are so eager to send the fleet there I expect. He was on his way here now, but his shuttle was attacked by Starfuries."

"Starfuries? In the middle of our space?"

"Shocking isn't it?" She said, shaking her head. "I blame myself. Mostly because I ordered it using the fighters we captured earlier in the war."

"This…this…"

"I own the Intelligence community Dru'tal." She said in resignation. "You couldn't organise a Coup if you were the only person on Omelos." The Warmaster sighed. "Weak."

"You…you have no proof."

"What makes you think I need any?" She frowned. "What makes you think I care?"

"You can't just go around killing us all!" Dru'tal snapped. "You're destroying every institution on Omelos!"

"I like to think of it as social re-engineering." She replied. "Anyway, I'd love to explain my vision of the new Imperium, cutting out the useless, but you'll see it soon enough." She stood up with a wide smile. "Now I have a war to win, and you'll be glad to hear I'm too busy to take you to Lab Nine Dru'tal."

He did not look anymore relieved.

She walked around the table with an air of victory and climbed the stairs. "I trust you will do the honourable thing Dru'tal before I return."

She paused at the top of the steps and turned around.

"In fact, there is one more thought. Not only did Dru'tal have all that support in the military, and the law, and the government… he couldn't have done it without some extra help in the Council, could he Sen'la?"

"It wasn't me, I swear it wasn't me!" The nervous Warmaster declared very loudly.

"I don't really have time for an investigation right now." She waved off his pleas. "And really I am past caring. You are a parasite, and guilty of not I don't want you in my Imperium."

Sen'la stepped back, not daring to meet her gaze. It made Jha'dur feel good. The Council was terrified of her again just like it should be. She savoured the moment, the most powerful people on Omelos cowering at her feet.

"I don't trust you in my absence, not one of you." She announced. "If you did not move against me this time, one day you will. I'm not going to stand around and wait. A good Warmaster knows the value of a pre-emptive strike. Show them Arn'dal."

Dru'tal's head snapped up. "Who's Arn'dal?"

His question was answered when a tall black clad figure appeared from thin air at Jha'dur's side, causing a ripple of shock in the Warmasters. That shock turned to panic as another figure appeared behind them, then another and another. A ring of armed Spectres surrounded the Council members, pushing them back against the circular table in the middle of the room.

"What is this?" Yor'lothan demanded. "I never moved against you!"

"And I'm not going to wait until you do." She said flatly. "This Council is obsolete. Omelos doesn't need you, I don't need you. You are not part of the victory plan."

"Jha'dur!" Yor'lothan bellowed. "You will burn in hell!"

"See you there." She looked to her side. "Arn'dal."

Her chief body guard gave a curt nod, pointed his rifle at the gathered Warmasters and with an odd sense of satisfaction opened fire.

Jha'dur watched impassively, not especially happy nor sad at the scene, the blue flashes of particle bolts strobing the room and briefly illuminating her face with each shot. It did not take long, and when Arn'dal was done the other Spectres stepped forward and fired on the bodies, just to make sure.

"Pity I have so little time." She watched a few holes smoking in the table. "You know how I like fresh subjects."

"A sacrifice for the Imperium Warmaster."

"Yes, yes that's exactly what it is." She nodded. "Time we were leaving."

She pushed open both doors and strode out, her squad of Spectres behind her with rifles raised, their muzzles still wisping smoke. The clerks that swarmed the office backed well away, unable to avoid looking at the brutal procession. Jha'dur did not mind, she loved it, she felt free, removed of bonds and restrictions. The Council was the last outdated anachronism holding the Imperium back, a relic of their old failed system.

Now it was gone, and she could focus fully on her one last task as Warmaster. She had laid the foundations of the new Imperium, nothing on Omelos could hold it back now, but she still had to guarantee it would not be still born. It was only one thing that stood in her way, one last obstacle and by far the biggest.

As she left the halls she reached up her hand and touched the thinning fabric of the old flag that rested in the lobby, the battle standard of the first Emperor of the Imperium. That flag had ushered in the birth of the Old Imperium, now it would see the new one.

Warmaster Jha'dur was ready to face Earth Force one last time.


	81. Chapter 81

80

Transfer Point Atlantis

Comac

Final staging area, Liberation Navy

June 28th, 2232

"It's not that I think it's a bad plan, it isn't, it's a great plan." Francis said to clarify his position, gesturing with his hands to provide a greater emphasis.

"I sense a 'but' creeping into this conversation." Chapel guessed.

"But." Francis fulfilled expectations. "It sounds like we're making assumptions, and I'm no expert but making assumptions about the final offensive of a war doesn't sound smart."

"Well first it's not an assumption, it's a calculated risk." Chapel responded as they continued to walk through the narrow corridors of Atlantis Station. "Hamato is hoping the Dilgar will follow his plan, and if they don't he has contingencies to make them stand up and fight."

"And that's what worries me." Francis sighed. "What if they do stand and fight?"

"Then we give them a beating."

"Yeah, but the Dilgar have been fighting smarter. Look at the reports from Drazi space. They're using new tactics designed to get past our advantages."

"It won't help them much Francis, Hamato has seen the same reports, he is still going ahead."

"We don't even know what we'll be facing." The young agent continued. "We shouldn't commit such a big chunk of our forces before we know exactly what we are going to fight!"

"That's what we have to do, it's war Francis, if we don't try and take the initiative and try a few risks we're never going to win." The older agent turned a corner into yet another faceless grey hollow of steel. "Look, it would be great if we had access to the Dilgar plans and fleet rosters. If we knew exactly what the Dilgar would do we could win this in one day, but we don't so we can either sit here and do nothing, or we can attack and prepare for any possibility."

"I just don't like it, the Dilgar are up to something."

A line of Marines walked past them heading somewhere in the station, a few days earlier the place had been packed just like Brakir, now it was almost completely empty. All the soldiers and crews were gone, deployed to their ships and stations preparing to leave. There were just a few remaining now scattered across two or three systems performing final checks and waiting for their assigned shuttles to take them to the starting points.

"The Dilgar tightened their intel service, it was to be expected." Chapel said with regret. "We can still crack most of their signals but not as fast or as easily as we got used to."

"Yeah, that's a pain." Francis agreed. "It was much easier when that Len'char guy ran things, this new person is much better at his job."

"What happened to old Lenny anyhow?" Chapel asked. "Like he just vanished."

"I heard on a personal message within the Dilgar leaders he'd fallen foul of Deathwalker. She made him into her new science project."

"Ouch."

"Really." Francis agreed with a shiver. "She's going to be leading the attack."

"We know."

"And she's spent most of this year setting up her fleet to take us on."

"We know that too."

"And Balos is a fortress they've had years to prepare as a lynchpin defence."

"Francis, we know."

"Just makes me nervous, that's all."

"It makes us all nervous, but this is what we have to do." Chapel affirmed with a smile. "Hey, if your uncomfortable at the idea imagine how the Dilgar feel."

They passed into a large loading dock and came across a group of human soldiers standing with Ambassador Sheridan. The dock was large and quiet, its large expanse cold with a slight chilling breeze running through as large moving machinery disturbed the air and caused Francis' hairs to stand on end. They made their way to the group and were met by the Ambassador.

"Vic, good to see you again."

"David." They shook hands. "Still on for one more game?"

"Poker at nine, I've invited Rob Lefcourt as well."

"He any good?"

"He's terrible, easy money for the both of us." Ambassador Sheridan chuckled. "Francis right?"

"Yes sir." The younger man shook hands.

"Still with the EIA? Good man, it's a valuable job you do."

"Did we miss them?" Vic asked.

"No not yet, they'll be along any minute." Sheridan answered. "Say Francis, ever seen a Gaim before?"

Before he could answer in the negative one of the inner doors cracked open with a slight hiss of equalising air. The thick aperture rumbled up, retracting on heavy gears and connecting the far docking bay with this one. From the dim light beyond a two legged creature walked forward dressed in a sealed suit with a long faced mask obscuring its features. It moved a little awkwardly forward towards the group and a fascinated Francis.

That fascination was replaced by something a lot more primal when the second creature walked from the bay. He heard it before he saw it, a clicking of claws on metal as something large approached. When it came through the door he recoiled in shock and horror, it was a nightmare born into reality.

Francis had seen plenty of vids on the concept of a vicious alien predator getting on a ship and massacring the crew one by one. Even before space travel such films had been common but what he saw before him was no illusion of computers and puppetry. The six foot tall creature clattered forward behind the much smaller two legged Gaim, it walked on four barbed legs and held two more out in front, long jointed limbs like a praying mantis covered in hard spikes and cutting edges. Its head was relatively small compared to its bulk, triangular with two vast compound eyes. It had large mandibles like a soldier ant, again viciously serrated and positioned neatly at head level for most humanoids.

It was hellish, even the Marines around him were shrinking back a little at the sight, tightening their grip on their rifles. It checked them over with quick movements, jerking its eyes to and fro and testing the air with its antennae in curiosity before stopping beside the smaller Gaim and waiting.

There was something very, very wrong about seeing an insect that big, and something massively disturbing about seeing anything with that amount of spikes, spines and pointy bits designed solely to cut and rend living beings into bloody strips. It was probably some buried survival instinct from when humans had been swinging from trees, but that monster completely froze his blood, and from what he had heard there were millions more of them in local space.

Even as he hung back, eyes locked on the horror that shifted its weight from leg to leg in front of him David Sheridan stepped forward without the slightest hint of fear or disgust and offered a small bow to the smaller Gaim.

"Mister Ambassador, Everything is prepared."

"You have found a suitable ship?" the small Gaim asked through an electronic translator held in its hands.

"The Dreadnought Zhukov, flagship of the Seventh fleet." Sheridan answered.

"Our Queen must have the best protection." The Gaim stated. "Many Queens died to the Dilgar, to lose even a young one would be devastating to us."

"She will be as safe as possible in the heart of the fleet surrounded by heavy warships, the toughest in the whole allied fleet." Sheridan assured. "It is as safe as we can make her."

"We accept." The Gaim nodded. "I speak for the Queen, and she is ready to take our retribution to the demons."

There was a distant clank as something else moved in the back of the far docking bay. Slowly a massive metal cylinder came into view, a vast grey device the size of a house rigged with all manner of tubes and wires and surrounded by skittering chittering creatures.

A few were warriors, equally fierce looking as their brother stood with the Ambassador, but most were smaller types that served the role of worker drones for the Gaim. They dragged the cylinder as if on a living carpet of dark insectoid bodies and slowly travelled it into the main dock. There were a few windows in the side and Francis caught a few fleeting glimpses of something very large and very intimidating inside.

"Our Queen can only breath our own atmosphere." The Ambassador said. "So she must be kept in here to live."

"We understand, we've cleared enough space in the main cargo bay of the Zhukov for your entourage." Sheridan informed. "Do you need a Marine team?"

"No, our own drones and warriors can tend to the Queen, we would keep contact to a minimum, we are still secretive around a Queen."

"I understand, I will ask the crews to leave you in peace."

Francis smiled, looking at the warriors the crew of the Zhukov wouldn't need to be told twice to stay out of the way.

"The shuttle is ready to take you all over." Sheridan said. "Just through there."

"We will go now." The Gaim said, and behind him the slow procession changed course. "We will do our duty."

"How close does your Queen need to be to control the warriors?"

"Anywhere in the system will do, the psychic link is strong." Replied the Ambassador. "If it is severed for any reason each warrior know only to attack Dilgar. Your armies are safe, only Dilgar need fear our wrath."

"And terrible it will be." Sheridan nodded. "We are proud and grateful to call you allies."

"And we are eager to feast on Dilgar." The Gaim replied, the words cold and mechanical in the translator but no less terrifying. "We will show them the flood of claws, the tide of bio acid, the screech of our warriors. None will live."

"And we will clear the skies so you may fight unhindered, face to face with your enemy."

"They will be slaughtered." The Gaim said flatly. "I leave now, we welcome this battle."

The Ambassador left,joining the cylinder as it was pushed up the ramp into a large shuttle destined to deliver it to the Dreadnought, the warriors following him in.

"Holy crap that was a sight." Chapel smiled. "I'd love to see those guys hit the dirt!"

"Command is going to drop them on Dilgar orbital defence sites." Sheridan stated. "Kill off the gun crews and then just go on a rampage. Those things are almost a warcrime, can you imagine what those claws would do to a person?"

"If it was against anyone but the Dilgar…" Chapel shrugged. "We need them, the Gaim throw those guys away like chaff. We can't afford to lose men and women like that. The first wave on Balos is going to take massive losses no matter who sends them in. Sounds harsh, but better the Gaim than us."

"We have different take son the word expendable." Sheridan nodded. "Anyway, there they go."

"There they go, I'll get word back to Earth and let them know." Vic nodded. "Man are those going to be an unpleasant surprise."

"No kidding Vic." Sheridan chuckled. "I almost feel sorry for the Dilgar. Well, almost."

The two agents said farewell and then went on to their next meeting back in the more habitable parts of the station.

"Would it be dumb to admit I almost ran when that thing showed up?" Francis remarked.

"Are you kidding? I have the best training Earth Force could provide and I almost screamed like a girl!" Chapel admitted. "They scare the hell out of me, I hate bugs!"

"Imagine what they'll do to the Dilgar."

"Two words. Mince. Meat."

"But I guess we're covering them from the air? I mean they don't have vehicles, artillery, warplanes right?"

"Right." Chapel agreed. "And heaven help us all when they finally do get some machines working."

"Glad they're on our side."

"And the Director wants to keep it that way, but that'll be for later." Chapel nodded. "Hey, food place right ahead."

Francis and Chapel arrived at one of the small restaurants run by civilians in the station, more of a roadside café it wasn't much to look at but was a taste of home on the far edge of space. The place was as quiet as the rest of the station with only two occupants, two very familiar faces.

"Hey Vic, we saved you a seat."

Chapel sat down with a grin beside Jenny Sakai. "Did you order yet?"

"Four full breakfasts." She answered. "How's things Francis?"

"We just saw some Gaim." He sat down at the table, shaking hands with Paul Calendar. "Scary."

"Yeah, I heard." Paul agreed. "They massacred a Narn landing a while ago, heard they did the same to the Dilgar."

"They'll be doing it again soon." Chapel said. "We're dropping them on Balos."

"Yow." Paul shuddered. "That'll be a party to avoid."

"Save a lot of lives in the long run though." Chapel reminded. "For the rest of the invasion forces anyway."

A Waitress brought over their food, piled high with relatively fresh produce shipped in by the Belt Alliance with a selection of tea or coffee to wash it down with.

"I picked the greasiest food on the menu." Paul said proudly. "I think we deserve it."

"Last taste of real food for a while." Jenny nodded. "Going to miss it."

"You too all packed then?" Chapel asked.

"Good to go." Jenny answered. "We've got a cabin all sorted out with Kanos."

"Huh?" Francis said with a mouthful of bacon. "What's going on?"

"We're going to Balos." Jenny said. "Paul and I."

"Since when?"

"Since Paul became liaison to the Free Balosians." She replied. "Like, months ago."

"Because Paul helped them out and acted as contact they trust him more than anyone else." Chapel explained. "We need to coordinate our fleet with the Balosians for the Admirals plan to work, so instead of assign a random officer we assigned Paul."

"And I'm going along to help out." Jenny confirmed. "Try to keep him out of trouble."

"Commander Kanos is a legend." Paul added. "What he's done keeping the Balosians together and fighting, it's just a miracle. We're going with him on the Seffensa, then landing on the planet to help the liberation."

"Sounds dangerous." Francis said with doubt.

"Actually, compared to my other jobs, getting stuck into the middle of the biggest battle in history is actually quite average." Paul shrugged. "But it'll be more than worth it to see Balos free. They really earned it."

"And we'll deliver." Jenny confirmed.

"That your stuff?" Chapel gestured at a trunk beside the table before shovelling in more food.

"Yeah, my box of guns." Paul said with evident pride.

"Box of guns?" Jenny shot him a look. "You never mentioned that?"

"I always take my box of guns with me on a job, just in case."

"Well what you got in there?" Chapel asked. "And did we pay for it? I lose track of all the stuff the EIA gave you."

"Nah, these are mine." Paul smiled and opened the lid. "Look at these beauties, Garand Rifle, Thompson Submachine Gun, Colt .45…"

"Wait a minute." Jenny held up a hand. "Did you rob a museum or something?"

"No, it's all legal."

"Paul, this stuff is ancient, what are you planning to do? Show and Tell the Dilgar to death?"

"Relax they're all modern." He answered. "Reproductions built to look like old weapons, they fire modern ammo, very powerful. More punch than that pop gun you run around with."

"I carry a PPG because its easier than dragging a dozen old guns Paul." She glared. "Also easier to bring ammo for."

"I've got plenty of rounds in this box." He tapped the chest gleefully. "And a gun for every occasion. Hey Francis, check this out." He picked up the biggest handgun the agent had ever seen. "Smith and Wesson .44 magnum, this one is the real thing, not a replica."

"I'm going to go to the quatermaster and get you a real gun." Jenny sighed. "A sane one."

"This are better."

"Paul, this is real, not a Second World War shooter Video game."

"A bunch of old guns got us off Tirrith." Paul countered. "They'll do the same if we hit trouble on Balos. Besides, Kanos is going to love these."

"Whatever." She gave up. "But I'm still bringing a spare PPG rifle for when you get bored of dragging that box around."

Francis curled his lip and spoke. "I want to go."

Nobody said anything for a moment.

"What, to Balos?" Paul asked after a long moment.

He nodded in answer. "I have to, this whole thing is just making me feel twisted up. I need to be there with the fleet in case something happens."

"No disrespect Francis, but what do you plan to do there?" Jenny asked.

"I can give them notice, early warning or something." He said. "If something bad is going to happen I can see it coming, pick up and decode some signals on the spot, I can make sure the Dilgar don't surprise us."

"The Director has assigned us to the forward EIA base on Brakir." Chapel said. "We'll be looking at the big picture and countering the Dilgar response from there."

"I know, I know. But that takes time, but if I'm there on Balos I can give the Generals the facts straight away, especially if the Dilgar jam the area and we can't get through from Brakir."

"The Director isn't going to like this Francis." Chapel intoned. "He doesn't like putting people on the frontline, even field agents like Jenny."

"Yeah I heard, but I know Admiral Hamato has been pulling strings to get me assigned to his Flagship again, this is no different. Hell it's got to be safer on the ground right?"

"With those Gaim running around?"

"Well they're on our side." Paul mentioned. "Just saying."

"It'll be the Directors decision." Chapel said.

"He'll have to make it, it makes perfect sense. He has to."

"Maybe." The senior agent grimaced. "No talking you out of it?"

"I don't really want to, but I have to." Francis nodded. "It's my job, my duty even. I have to be there in case something goes wrong."

"We haven't got a body guard for you, not since…" Jenny held herself back, the death of Sergeant Major Jackson still rather fresh and a source of sadness.

"I'll be well behind the lines." He said calmly. "And I'll link up with Jenny and Paul when they land, I'll be in good company."

"You really want this?" Chapel asked. "I mean really think about it, this is a warzone."

"I'm not going to be able to do my job any other way." He said firmly. "I have to go, I have to."

Chapel shrugged in resignation. "Then I'll ask the Director to authorise it."

"Thanks Vic, Hey, it might be nothing, but if it isn't…"

"If it isn't you'll be the right man in the right place." Jenny smiled. "Again."

He smiled and continued to eat. "I'm going to miss good food."

"Won't be long." Jenny assured. "We'll be home in a month."

Francis smiled and nodded. "Home in a month."

Above Omelos

Dilgar Home System.

"I'll say it clearly, if anything breaks, malfunctions or otherwise does not perform to expectations I am going to cut off your hands and make you eat them."

Jha'dur gave the assorted engineers and designers a long lingering gaze, not one of them met her eye line.

"I know these Sekhmets are rushed, that they are cobbled together technology inspired by the Drakh. I also know these eighteen ships are the best in the Navy. They have the best crews, best pilots and best Captains. Brave men and women will trust their lives to these ships. I will trust my life to one of these ships. If you have failed to fulfil your role as designers and builders of these warships I will guarantee a special fate for those responsible."

She gave a gruff laugh then nodded. "Go, dismiss, back to your duties."

The group hastily left allowing Jha'dur a moment of peace on the space station. Ahead was a vast window, a rare luxury on Dilgar installations showing the blue and white of Omelos below and the closer yellow hulled forms of a Sekhmet squadron between her and her world. She detested those ships and all they represented, but they were still valuable assets and she'd be a fool not to use them, personal feelings aside.

"Warmaster, the final checks are complete."

The silky voice of Captain An'jash remarked beside her. The Captain had approached as silent as ever, if she hadn't been a fleet officer she'd have made a good Spectre.

"Did you find a suitable flagship?"

"Yes Warmaster, the best one." She confirmed. "It is called the Imperial Wrath."

Jha'dur smiled. "Change the name, I don't like anything that pretentious. A name should mean something real, not simply be arrogant presumption."

"Yes Warmaster, do you have a suggestion?"

She smiled. "Vendetta."

"As you order."

She watched the clouds circling Omelos below, noting that some were grey tinged with pollution. It was all too common today and accepted as just part of life. A few fighters darted across her field of vision as the last supply ships detached from the nearby Sekhmets and withdrew.

"Which crew did you assign Captain?"

"As many as I could from the Deathwalker Ma'am."

"Excellent." Jha'dur approved. "We have fought together a long time Captain, many battles, many victories, some defeats."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Will this by a victory?"

An'jash considered her answer. "That is going to depend on how hard we fight."

Jha'dur chuckled. "Good answer."

"Warmaster, our crew will fight to the last." An'jash said with confidence and satisfaction, her uniform swelling a little in pride. "I have not heard one man or woman express doubt we will not prevail whatever the cost."

"It will be a high cost Captain, of that I am certain."

"Our fleet will not flinch."

"And I can ask for no less." She nodded. "Look at what we have done Captain. We stormed the galaxy, battled without pause for years against the oldest and most powerful races in the galaxy. We came from nothing and held planets in the palm of our hands, all because of one thing. Spirit."

Her eyes remained fixed on Omelos.

"Our ships proved lacking, but our spirit never faltered. Now we've altered our ships, improved their weapons and speed. We can fight back Captain, we can harm our most powerful enemies, we can win. We can win."

"Everyone knows you will command Warmaster." An'jash said. "We will all give our lives for you."

"You mean for Omelos Captain."

"No Warmaster, for you." An'jash repeated. "We know you Warmaster, the fleet does not fear you like the others did. They know that if they fight well you will support them. They know you have never turned your back on your command or used lives for political gain. They will follow you to hell itself."

"It will come to that." She said calmly. "There is no guarantee our new tactics will work, the humans are a clever foe, they will adapt. We must change plans on the wing, reform and push in different directions on a whim. We must be faster, more adaptable and more determined. Numbers won't win this for us, they never did, the fire of our people will decide our fate."

"The entire fleet stands ready Warmaster, loyal to the death."

"This is our one chance to win this war." She said. "We must break Earth Force at Balos or we fail utterly. There will be no reserves, no back up fleets, no territory to cede. If we fail, Omelos will fall."

"Then we will not fail Warmaster."

"Everything hangs on this, it is all in the balance." Jha'dur felt quiet, calm. She had nothing else to worry about, everything was mapped out in her life, she had just this one thing to do and only two options. Win and live, or fail and die. "If we don't achieve victory, we can't leave Balos alive."

"I know Warmaster."

"This has been the most magnificent chapter in our history." She said in firm and unshakeable belief. "If the current generation was the last, then by the gods it was also the best."

"If so many of our soldiers fall, at least we know the Dilgar will conquer the afterlife." An'jash smiled.

Jha'dur gave a rare true laugh. "That we will Captain, our best officers are already there ahead of us readying the army for its last three great Warmasters."

"Think we will ever see home again Warmaster?"

She smiled and nodded. "Every time we close our eyes."

The shuttle ride across was brief, the newly christened Battlecruiser Vendetta hanging brightly above Omelos reflecting the light of the traitorous sun. Its hull was decorated with the markings of Jha'dur's own family, a proud heritage and a clan that had done its share in the past. Jha'dur was the first of her clan to rise to such lofty heights, but the ancestors of her name had fought well by the side of the victorious Emperors and had earned some hard won respect. A respect that had been completely discarded by the aristocracy after her Father had died. Still, that wrong had been righted to Jha'dur's satisfaction.

She stepped onto her new command with faith in its abilities, taking in a breath of recycled air and feeling a slight longing for the clean crisp atmosphere of Mitoc. She parcelled away the desire and moved on, walking through the hangar and exchanging salutes with Captain Sa'goth, her chief of intelligence.

"Before we start, what news of the Supreme Warmaster?" she asked quickly.

"He is breathing on his own Warmaster."

Jha'dur beamed a smile at the news. "Truly wonderful."

"He hasn't woken up yet, but his body is strengthening and responding to treatment. His mental functions should follow soon."

"I hope he wakes soon, Omelos needs it's father back."

"It does Warmaster. Without the Council…"

"Ah, the Council." She recalled with amusement the screams they made as her Spectres cut them down. "Traitors."

"The public agrees, we have said they were conspiring to kill you and finish the Supreme Warmaster."

"Which is actually true, for a change."

"The Public seems outraged, they support the executions without question."

"And you Sa'goth? Your thoughts?"

He smiled coldly. "Good riddance."

She laughed. "Good Captain, we will appoint new Warmasters in time, Tor'han of the home fleet will probably be one, An'jash too. I should mention I am putting forward your name as well Captain."

"That is a great honour Warmaster."

"You have more than proven yourself worthy." She stated in return. "You are what a Warmaster should be, and in the new Imperium what all Warmasters will be."

They entered a turbo lift and selected the bridge.

"What is the latest from our networks?"

"Things have gone very quiet on the human side of the frontier."

Jha'dur nodded, smile widening. "Communication black out. They're on their way Captain."

"Our recon has shown a major gathering of force in several sectors, we predict a staged attack rather than one massive assault."

"I can live with that. In time though the humans will commit massive force to Balos, we will need to take on their full strength, a force even tougher than the one at Markab."

"I expect so Warmaster."

She stepped onto the bridge and took in the rather alien surround. It was smaller than she was used to with barely a dozen crew manning the stations.

"This might take some getting used to." She muttered.

"The controls are state of the art Warmaster." Sa'goth responded. "In theory one person could operate the whole ship."

"But can they operate it well?" She wondered. "better than a large well trained crew? Sometimes many minds working together are better than one."

"I agree Warmaster."

"Still, these ships have performed well. Despite my well known reservations I may grow to like them."

"The Grand Fleet is standing by War master."

She nodded. "All ships have the timetable delivered by courier?"

"Yes Ma'am, no word has been sent over channels. The humans have given no indication they are aware of the true strength we can commit."

"If they knew they'd send their whole fleet in and the Drazi, Hyach and Abbai reserves at once." She felt a slight warmth inside. "We've got surprise Captain."

"There is one last matter Warmaster, your final delivery…"

"Ah yes." She smiled. "Well done. Now Captain, head back to the station, you still have a vital role to perform."

"At once Warmaster."

"If we do not meet again Captain, you will remember what it is to be a Warmaster?"

"To the letter." He saluted. "Victory."

"Survival Captain." She returned. "For all of us."

Brakir

"What is Balos like anyway?" Dom Hannigan looked over his shoulder. "Anyone been?"

"Nah." Answered Private Malone as he rested on the folding chair he had claimed as soon as the 99th had landed on the arid planet. "It'll be like everywhere else."

"Well they gave us desert gear, so I guess we're going to be in a dry bit." Corporal Tucker added. "You might actually tan Dom."

"Come on, we've been on Brakir a month." 'Bugs' Malone laughed. "He's still pasty!"

"I am not pasty!" Dom replied defensively. "I'm Irish, grey is our natural skin tone."

"Only you can sit on a desert planet and not tan." Tucker smiled. "The rest of us did great."

"Yeah, well the rest of you do nothing but sit around and sunbathe!"

"It's called shirking." Bugs answered. "When you get a few stripes you'll appreciate it more."

"The Sarge is like the patron saint of shirking." Tucker agreed. "He's got the Lieutenant wrapped so tight around his little finger he could…"

"Could what Corporal?"

Immediately the three soldiers leapt to their feet, standing to attention and slamming their boots down into the dust. Before stood the small blonde topped frame of Lieutenant Emma Fox glaring at them. She was an elfin beauty with small sharp features and large blue eyes, which at this point were regarding the three men intensely. Fox had been given command of the platoon when their previous officer Lieutenant Brook was reassigned to Franklin's Headquarters Platoon. She'd seen fighting on Tiree and Gamma Seven and had proven a cunning and capable officer. She also had a knack of finding her soldiers right when they were at their most guilty.

"Hope I'm not interrupting?" She said.

"No Ma'am." Tucker answered.

"Catching a little sun?"

"No Ma'am. I mean yes Ma'am. Camouflage Ma'am."

She folded her arms and looked straight at Tucker, who was a good six inches taller than her. "This I'm going to enjoy hearing."

"Well ma'am Balos is a desert world."

"I'm glad you paid attention."

"And if we were bright white, like Dom… Private Hannigan Ma'am, we'd be sniper bait from the horizon."

"Oh I see now." Fox nodded.

"So for the good of the whole platoon Ma'am, we were trying to give Dom a tan so he did not advertise the position of the platoon to the enemy Ma'am."

She nodded in understanding. "That is remarkable Corporal. Great initiative."

"Thank you Ma'am."

"In fact so great I'm going to go tell the Colonel right now."

"Oh, er, actually Ma'am we'd rather not have too many people hear."

"But it was so noble and clever?"

"But a little embarrassing for Dom, I mean it isn't easy been grey."

She looked at them for a long and drawn out few seconds before bursting into laughter. The three soldiers stood awkwardly, not entirely sure if they should join in or not.

"That…That was the best excuse ever." Fox laughed. "You jokers should be in intel, that's the best pile of crap ever!"

"Thank you Ma'am." Tucker said, kicking himself soon after.

"You have thirty seconds to get out of my sight and start cleaning your kit before I share this story with the Captain, and you know he has no sense of humour."

"Yes Ma'am, thank you Ma'am."

"Disappear people." She ordered. "Damn that's one for the diary."

The three soldiers ran round the back of one of the Brakiri barracks they were using and started laughing.

"Too close that time man." Bugs grinned. "Imagine if it was old Firestorm!"

"We'd be digging latrines until we retired." Tucker grinned. "But I think I got a decent top up on my Tan."

"Well that made it all worthwhile." Dom sneered. "We could have gotten in trouble."

"Yeah, but we didn't." Bugs grinned. "Like when Freddy totalled the Colonel's car with…"

Tucker slapped his arm quickly. "We never mention that!"

"Oh, yeah. Right. Forget I said it."

They turned into the drill square to find a number of soldiers sorting out their gear, straightening and marking up their desert combat gear. The 99th wasn't scheduled to depart for a few more days and the regiment found it having quite a bit of time on its hands. Keeping the unit busy while the rest of the army moved out was proving quite a challenge.

"Put your name on everything!" Sergeant Alfredo Garibaldi bellowed at the busy soldiers. "Your name means it cannot be stolen! It also means if you sell it or drop it I know which one of you morons is responsible and where to stick my boot!"

He spotted the other three members of his platoon arriving.

"Glad you could make it! Grab your stuff and mark it up! You lose it, you pay for a new one!"

The equipment was straight forward enough, essentially the same as their old gear but in tones of beige and brown for the Balosian landscape. They printed their name on the inside of the various pouches, boots, hardware and items of clothing with a marker pen while checking it over to make sure it was in good condition.

"If it needs replacing get it done today." Garibaldi informed. "Once we're in the sky its too late."

So far everything looked fine, only their weapons were still in storage and would remain there until the morning of the embarkation.

"Remember, just because we're in the third wave doesn't mean we can be slack!"

"Why third wave Sarge?" Dom asked.

"We were first down on the first two big invasions." Garibaldi answered. "Guess they want someone else to have some fun."

"There'd be no Dilgar left if we went in first." Tucker grinned. "The Sarge would Crowbar them all!"

The remark earned a round of genuine laughs.

"How many did you kill Sarge?" Bugs asked.

"Last count, fourteen thousand." The Sarge grinned.

"They need to turn you into a movie Sarge." Tucker suggested. "I'd pay to see it."

"Damn right you would, you'd all be in the cinema ten times a day!" Garibaldi demanded. "I'd be on the doors with a crowbar to make sure of it!"

A roar of engines caught their attention and for a while they stopped and looked up, an activity in which they joined thousands of other soldiers and civilians for miles around.

"Wow." Bugs shaded his eyes from the sun with his palm as he gazed up. "Bet that's about five million credits of fuel."

The pale blue sky was heavy with shuttles, slowly rising into the air like reverse snow fall lifting up blackly from the desert. The crossed the sun throwing long shadows across the ground and rattling windows despite their great height. Thousands of them dominated every direction each crammed with soldiers, tanks or supplies. It was a massive exodus, Earth Force was taking its might from Brakir and preparing to show it elsewhere.

"Not subtle." Tucker observed.

"That's just one Corps." Garibaldi said. "At least six more of those for us, same again for the Brakiri. Big numbers people."

"The Dilgar haven't got a clue what's about to happen to them."

"Let's hope not." The Sarge agreed. "Means we get an easy ride."

"What exactly are we doing Sarge?" Dom asked.

"According to the Captain we're reserves. We load up and sit in hyperspace while the first two waves go in." Garibaldi stated. "Then if they run into trouble they air drop us behind enemy lines and we work our mojo."

"I love being Airborne, I really do." Bugs grinned.

"You were too ugly for the fighter corps and too dumb for the Navy." Garibaldi returned. "No one else would have you, but don't worry, the Airborne loves you Bugs."

"Yeah, but everyone else thinks you're a moron." Tucker added cheekily.

"So we might be going into action soon." Garibaldi said loud enough for everyone to hear. "Or we might land quietly and help distribute food to the Balosian civilians, either way we'll be putting boots on the ground so you need your kit in good shape."

The shuttles vanished into the sky, heading beyond the atmosphere and out to waiting troop ships and things went back to silence for a few minutes before more noise rumbled the air.

"Now what?" Dom asked.

"Armour." Garibaldi guessed. "The mechanised brigade from the next base along."

"They moving out too?" Bugs asked.

"Guess so, the main road goes right past here."

"Mind if we go check them out Sarge?"

He shrugged. "Sure, why not, but take your kit and don't try and sell them anything!"

The platoon moved to the edge of their base and found the side of the road already lined with other Earth Force soldiers from the area, the whole 101st Airborne Division had been bivouacked in the same Brakiri camp and it seemed most of them had turned out to watch the brigade go past.

The vehicles like the regular kit had been re-sprayed for the invasion in desert camouflage and were pristinely clean as they trundled past. The Thor tanks were still unrivalled in open combat and while Earth had lost a few of them to enemy action they still tended to rule whatever part of the battlefield they set up on. With them came a wide variety of other equally gleaming armoured vehicles from infantry carriers to heavy artillery all making their way into town and then out to the distant airfield and their transports into orbit.

After the heavy vehicles came open topped trucks filled with soldiers. These trucks were on loan from the Brakiri army to take the human infantry to the airfield where they would meet their shuttles and head up to orbit to join their own armoured transports that were being brought straight from Earth. The uniformed men and women sat quietly and solemnly in the back nodding and rocking as the trucks drove by, largely uncaring or unknowing of the airborne troops watching them go buy.

"Well that looks depressing." Dom reasoned.

"Think they know something we don't?" Bugs considered.

"Balos is going to be a tough nut." Garibaldi said plainly. "If they're in the first wave, might be hard on them."

More trucks bounced along.

"Looks like they know it too." Dom watched.

Without a further word Garibaldi took a few steps forward, jumped up on a rock and started yelling at the nearest truck.

"Give 'em hell boys and girls!" He roared. "Show them kitties they picked on the wrong planet!"

Bugs started laughing and joined. "Go get 'em!"

"Go skin 'em guys!" Tucker joined in. "Show 'em what we're made of!"

Within a few seconds the calls spread and very soon the whole division was raising their voices, cheering on the mechanised brigade and throwing their support behind them. The thundering cheers drew out the various officers who watched on from a distance in approval. In the trucks the soldiers perked up and began cheering back, wishing the airborne troops the same luck and success when they went into action themselves.

Dom ran alongside the last truck, cheering them on for a while until it pulled away, the guys in the back waving and shouting their own encouragement before they turned a corner and left, the rumble of engines and a few more cheers marking their departure.

"Hope there'll be someone to cheer us off." Tucker smiled quietly.

"We're airborne, we don't need a sing song and a kiss goodbye." Garibaldi said gruffly. "Well, not from you anyway."

"Got a few more days yet." Tucker looked skyward. "Then away we go again."

"Yeah, it's getting pretty boring here." The Sergeant joked. "Change of scenery, new people to meet and then shoot. Boldly blow up what no man has blown up before. I love the Force."

"And try not to get shot ourselves."

"Best plan I've heard." Garibaldi smiled widely. "Come on, that gear might save your life. Stow it away, write your letters and I'll see you for the game tonight."

"Hell yeah." Tucker and Bugs chuckled.

They began to return to their duties, the division fading back into their small groups and occupying themselves as best they could, focusing on the now and not the what ifs of tomorrow.

Garibaldi gave a last glance over his shoulder at the direction the trucks went, the hum of their engines fading to silence.

"Good luck buddies."

The mechanised column wove through the streets of the Brakiri city between tall and tightly packed buildings and narrow winding streets. Every window, every corner, every inch of space on the streets was filled with people and each one of them was cheering. It was like a thousand sporting matches combined, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of Brakiri turned out to show their support and gratitude. There was no wounded pride from the government trying to downplay Earth's role in the war, they openly admitted that without Earth Force Brakir would be dead. The population knew what was owed to humanity and they did not hesitate to show their appreciation.

They rained garlands of flowers down on the passing trucks and tanks, on the nominally desert planet flowers were a tremendously rare commodity of almost religious importance, and yet still they were thrown in uncounted numbers to the humans.

By half way through the town the tanks were mobile fortresses of colour, an unusual mix of frilly petals and hard guns. The soldiers in the trucks humorously placed the flowers on their helmets and battle webbing, making jokes about hippies which would have been lost on the Brakiri even if they had heard over the cheers and generally waved back, feeling more than a little awed by the farewell from a grateful world.

The shuttles had been taking off in droves all day, a carpet of troops, tanks and other assorted vehicles waiting to be moved off world. Over a quarter million men and women far from home preparing for what was bound to be the fight of their lives, the last big push to open the doors to Omelos and end the war.

Billions of lives rested with them, the writing of history was in their hands shaped by every step and breath they made. Whether they knew it or not the galaxy was turning on these people, their comrades in the cold metal boxes above and their enemies far beyond. It was all gathering together, all converging on one single point of light in the black veil of space.

By the gates of the airbase a mountain of flowers had formed, the garlands removed from uniforms before the troops embarked on their transports. Most kept one or two blooms, mementos and tokens of the gratitude of Brakir and a reminder that they were out here making a difference, but most were by necessity left behind. The scent carried on the wind for miles, a reminder when the troops had gone that they had walked this place and brought freedom back to Brakir.

Returned to drab battledress they stepped in file up the ramps of the shuttles, taking their seating with purpose and waiting to go, focused on what may wait them and savouring the days remaining to them before they would drop into the crucible. Heavy armour and spindly gunships were loaded with them, the faceless trucks and boxes of food so unglamorous but so vital to success, items large and small that together constituted an army.

A few years ago sending a tenth of this force for any period of time to simply the other side of the Earth Alliance would have been impossible. Today they were a dozen jumps from home ready to take on the Dilgar army in full strength, over two million were estimated to be on Balos, the biggest concentration outside the home system itself. It promised to be the hardest fight in a century and a half, some were ready for it, some weren't, but no one was turning back.

Battlecruiser Vendetta

Above Omelos

Jha'dur ran her fingers over the doorway as she entered the room, noting there wasn't so much as a film of dust on the lintel. The ship was spotless, and while that did please her a little she'd reserve final judgement on the quality of the vessel until after its first battle. She had faith in the crew and officers, but her long standing doubts about the Sekhmet design would not be put to rest until she saw them in action with her own eyes.

The room was plain and bland, unpainted metal and no furnishings. It was designated to become a crew lounge or mess hall, a rare taste of relaxation on board a Dilgar warship and a vision of how the future navy would be set up, but not just yet. The room was empty, not necessary to the function of the ship and therefore ignored in the rush to bring the Sekhmets into service by the deadline. It had just one feature, something not due in the final design, a single medical bed and a single being chained to it.

Jha'dur approached the bed at the centre of the room, the door swishing shut behind her as she regarded the occupant with distant fascination, the body still and barely moving on the bed, chest rising and falling slowly. The occupant wore simple medical robes and seemed fit and healthy, much to the Warmaster's interest as she looked at some of the monitoring devices attached to the bed.

She leaned over the medical bed, regarding the person laying on it with a thin smile of fascination.

"Remarkable, it seems there is nothing I cannot do."

The patient opened his eyes and inhaled sharply as he saw the face of the Warmaster beside him, his gaze growing wide in terror.

"Calm down Len'char, I don't have time for another of our learning sessions." She sighed. "Much as I enjoyed them I have some real work to do shortly."

He did not seem to relax.

"Your recovery has been remarkable." Jha'dur continued regardless, ignoring Len'char's utter terror. "Considering all I've done to you it is a small miracle. No scars, no side effects, no illness. You are in perfect shape, ready for me to take you apart all over again."

He shot her a glance of horror, one which she relished.

"You can thank your Drakh friends for the cure, they gave me what I needed." She remarked. "They pointed me in the right direction, though it turns out the cure is too complicated to synthesise. It needs to be grown you see, bred in living tissue from a sentient being. It needs the complexity and density of a sentient creatures brain to replicate itself. You live Len'char because I had to dissolve a Drakh brain to make your cure. One life for one dose, but we are talking Drakh lives here so it is of little importance."

She walked around the bed, checking the other monitors.

"Gar'shan is also recovering, though his affliction was more complicated than yours. Still, few more weeks, a month maybe and he'll be awake again. It seems all your schemes have come to nothing."

She stepped closer and gave Len'char her full attention.

"Though the price of your failure was higher than words can describe, for all of us."

She crouched down so she was on eye level with Len'char, lowering her voice and giving him her full attention. Physically he was fine, but mentally Len'char was still ruined, a consequence of the months of agony she had put him through. Jha'dur's serum had not cured that, nothing would.

"You remember my brother don't you Len'char? You sent him to his death." She cocked her head. "Well maybe the Drakh told you to, but the more I consider it the more I think you did it under your own authority. Either way, I do hold you responsible and you still owe me for that."

she looked at him straightly again.

"Perhaps you wonder where your Drakh friends are? Well three of them are dead, liquefied so I could create three doses of the cure. One for you, one for Gar'shan, and one for me to keep just in case."

She chuckled.

"But their leader Salasine, he's still alive. You know they are immortal? Engineered to live forever? That proves it can be done. Salasine will live. I buried him in a bunker and sealed him in. Turns out he doesn't need food or water, just air. So he has an oxygen recycler with a ten thousand year battery and a body full of the most agonising organisms I could create. He's deep enough to survive the radiation that will burn our world, no early release for him. Ten thousand years alone and in utter agony, that is my gift to him, my little token of thanks for his part in my misery. But compared to you Len'char, he is escaping lightly."

The former Warmaster looked sharply at her.

"For you Len'char, for you I have something special and oh so appropriate."

She stood again and began strolling around the bed.

"You recall my brother was also a great scientist, what I was to biology he was to physics. He discovered the instability in our sun with simple high school tools, and went on to be an expert in hyperspace physics. Perhaps you remember he planned our attack routes through the League? Cutting days off our transit times by finding new stable hyperspace corridors?"

She nodded.

"He had such a future, he could have made so many discoveries, expande don so many theories above hyperspace. You know he predicted there were more dimensions out there? More layers of reality we could jump between and travel? He was a genius, and all those advancements are now lost to us."

She continued walking, pacing around the bed, the clip of her boots the only sound beside her voice.

"Before you took him from me he was studying jump points, the way tachyons interact to form the vortexes we use. He found they aren't simply a bridge between one realm and another, they actual cross a few dimensions before depositing a ship in hyperspace. There is something else out there Len'char, between our space and hyperspace, a whole different dimension and my brother found it."

She smiled.

"But he wasn't the first to find it, he knew what to look for already thanks to legend. Technomages Len'char, the lore masters of years gone by. They already knew this place existed, some say they knew how to enter it but never did. My brother found a way too, he proved the Technomages right and he proved that legendary place existed."

She raised her head, remembering the excitement her brother had expressed at learning of this place.

"Do you know what else the legends said? Why the Technomages did not exploit their knowledge and dwell in this place? They gave it a name Len'char. They called it hell."

She smiled.

"Very dramatic of course, but when you dwell into what they say about it, read about the creatures that dwell there, the terror that rules that place, makes you wonder. Time works differently there, a moment here is an eternity there, one of suffering, and pain and horror beyond even my imagination, and as you know I have a very good imagination."

She leaned in again, closer to Len'char.

"He found a way through you know, a one way ticket straight to hell, no return possible. Would you like to guess where this conversation is going?"

Len'char began shaking his head, his fractured mind unable to form words.

"I think it is fitting that my brother is in a way the architect of his own revenge. You killed him, and now he will be responsible for your fate."

He began straining against the chains.

"You'll become sport for daemons, as close to living legends as you can get. Monstrosities that will visit on you tortures that are unimaginable for the rest of forever. This is my special gift to you Len'char, the very worst fate I could possibly imagine, and it's all yours. I'm sending you to hell."

He pulled hard against the chains, convulsing and jolting as if he were being electrocuted.

"And they say there is no justice in the world." Jha'dur laughed. "There is for you Len'char, you will live forever, congratulations, pass on my admiration for your new friends."

He shook, grunting and trying in vain to break free.

"This is the path you chose for yourself Len'char, this is the end you made for yourself. It did not have to be this way, but it is. You made it all happen, you tried to destroy me by attacking all I cared about. Now I'm going to make you pay. Say goodbye to everything you know, because your real life is about to begin."

She breezed onto the bridge with a wide smile and sat down cheerfully on the centre chair, appreciating the comfort of the item of furniture and the easy access to displays and status screens around her.

"Captain An'jash, how are things?"

"All is in order Warmaster, the fleet stands ready."

"Very good, let's finish business here first shall we?" Jha'dur grinned. "Launch the shuttle."

From the hangar of the warship emerged a simple shuttlecraft, it glided clear and then accelerated away into open space.

"Shuttle clear, auto pilot engaged and on course."

"Open a vortex." Jha'dur commanded. "Then fly the shuttle into it, standby on explosive charges, the timing must be precise."

Ahead of the shuttle a jump point opened, its sole occupant tied to the copilots seat watching in silent terror as the curling lights dominated the view before him.

"In the old days there was a custom." Jha'dur recited. "It held that before an army or fleet made its way to battle a sacrifice had to be made, noble blood had to be spilled to appease the gods and grant good fortune to the soldiers. Let's hope the gods find this sacrifice as amusing as I did."

"Shuttle is entering the vortex."

"Detonate."

As Len'char's shuttle stretched away, leaping between dimensions it suddenly exploded, destroyed in neither one world or the other. Its wreckage and its occupant vanished forever, if the legends were true Len'char was snatched away at the instant of death out of time and space to suffer an eternity of pain. Sha'dur's experiments had shown there was truth in the old legends, that due to the bizarre twisting of time and space in a hyperspace vortex an accident could shift a victim into a deathless dimension exactly as the Technomages had warned. What lay there exactly Jha'dur did not know, even the Mages had no real idea, only that it was not to be meddled with. Now it had Len'char to play with.

"So passes the last Emperor of Omelos." She spoke quietly. "Goodbye Len'char, burn in hell forever."

"Jump engines cycling Warmaster, we will have charge in a few minutes." An'jash reported.

"Credit to the Drakh on one thing, they know how to build an efficient jump drive." Jha'dur allowed. "Standby on engines, I want a channel to the fleet."

"Opening now Warmaster." An'jash slid some switches. "Ready."

Jha'dur took a calming breath and spoke, falling into the commanding voice she had known during the great days of the Imperium, a voice she thought she had heard for the last time.

"Officers and crew of the Grand Fleet, you know my voice, you know my name, you know my reputation. You know what I ask of you, you know what is at stake, you know whom we must face and you know whom we must defeat. I do not need to remind you of this, I don't have to tell you over and over what you already know as well as your own lives and names. You are not the fools some may believe you to be, your dedication to Omelos has never wavered, your willingness to fight and sacrifice remains unchallenged and unmatched."

She nodded and continued.

"I ask much from you, as I have always asked and as those who fought beneath the banner of Omelos always delivered. You warriors of the Imperium, you men and women of courage have never failed to give whatever was asked of you. You never flinched, never wept or hid in fear, you faced odds that would make even the mighty quiver in terror and you fought without hesitation. You are Dilgar, you are the greatest generation of our race, worthy successors to the kings and heroes of antiquity. We go now to the greatest battle of our world, it will be the hardest for our foe is powerful and cunning. Many of you will fall, I do not hide that fact from you, but the blood we shed is for the future of our people and the survival of our families. You and your families are the heart of Omelos and I swear to you they will endure whatever the cost."

She raised her eyes to the image of her world on the main display.

"The history of Omelos is written in blood, and the future of our people wherever they settle will be born of that same blood and fire. We are the only ones who can give our race new life, without us the Dilgar will be just a memory to be feared. And so now we go to battle for our world, for our race, for our blood. We fight those who would enslave and exterminate us, we give all we can give from the oldest leader to the youngest recruit. We deny fate, we deny destiny, we are warriors and we make our own future!

"So to arms warriors of Omelos! In the name of all you love and all you wish to see grow and flourish, fight my people, fight like no man or woman has ever fought before and never will again! We are the last, best hope of our world, whatever the price we must halt the advance at Balos, and not one step further. This is your hour children of Omelos, the fate of worlds hangs now with you. The eyes of the galaxy are on us, make sure they look upon us with fear. Commence your jump to the staging area, we return victorious or we do not return at all."

Countless jump points formed in the sky opening the way for the fleet to leave, the mightiest gathering of force in the history of Omelos. The last Grand Fleet of the Imperium made it's departure with Jha'dur at its head, a fleet to make worlds tremble and the most hardened veterans take a moment to consider their actions.

She did not bring the two thousand ships Earth Force estimated she had in reserve, nor the six thousand estimated to be the entirety of the Dilgar fleet. For months she had built this fleet, stripping ships down to the essentials to accelerate construction, forcing slave labourers to work incessantly until they literally died of exhaustion. The blood of millions of lives lost were already on these ships, wept on their construction and shed on their hulls. They were death traps, barely armoured with no safeties, skeleton crews and enough fuel for a one way trip.

But they could fly, and they could fight and that was enough. It was the final offensive, the last the Dilgar economy could handle before it collapsed, and it was the greatest.

Jha'dur took ten thousand ships into hyperspace, a number unrivalled in any war in memory, and she took them to their deaths. Against humanity even this great number was no guarantee of victory and she expected most to die, but those that lived could win this if they could hold together just one second longer than the humans, her race would survive and her duty would be fulfilled.

She looked finally at Omelos, searing its image in her mind. It could well be the last time she ever saw the planet, the last glimpse of the cradle that had borne her and her ancestors. It was a symbol of everything, of all they had done and all that remained, a warning that time was running out. She did not look away until it had vanished into the storm of hyperspace, only then did she look back to her bridge crew.

"Make your destination Balos." She commanded. "And ready yourselves for the battle to end all battles."

EAS Hannibal

Flagship, Earth Expeditionary Force

Transfer point Atlantis

Comac system.

"Any final orders from Earth Commander?" Admiral Hamato asked as he settled into the chair that had become home to him at the centre of the command deck surrounded on all sides by bustling crew and brightly lit consoles.

"No sir." Commander Patel answered. "Just a message from the President wishing us luck and telling us all of humanity goes with us."

"A thoughtful sentiment." He approved. "League forces?"

"At our command and formed up."

"Seventh and Fourth fleets will proceed ahead with the landing troops, Balosians will take point. All other ships will hold at the final staging point and await further orders."

"Aye sir, orders sent and confirmed." Patel answered professionally. "All ships and divisions report ready to jump Admiral."

"This is it then." The old Admiral observed calmly.

"This is it sir." Confirmed his First Officer.

"We've come a long way Commander, given up a lot, endured much and succeeded where no one imagined it was possible. We did all that in just seven months, and now we can see the end of the war."

"Hard to believe sir."

"For a League which has known nothing but defeat and slaughter now to have hope and to see the final victory at hand, it is a great day. One to remember always."

"Yes it is sir."

"Open a channel to all ships." Hamato ordered. "I have a final message."

She did as ordered, and nodded when she was ready.

"Ships of the Liberation Navy, sentients of the League and Earth, soldiers and protectors. We are ready. The people at home have named us many things, but the one name which has be taken to heart more than others is that of the Liberation Navy. We have liberated worlds and freed billions, not from slavery or tyranny but from torture and extermination. What we have achieved goes far beyond a simple satisfaction of objectives, we have prevented the greatest atrocities in galactic history. Sometimes we were too late. We will not be too late for Balos.

"We are not fighting to gain territory or wealth, we do not want to take something away from our enemies, but simply to give something back to our homes wherever they may be. To give them security, and liberty, and peace, and life. This is why we wear the uniform, why we are out here and why we must not fail in the task appointed to us. It will be hard, but we will not fail.

"Before today I read the words of another commander in another war before another crucial battle. I offer you now those words changed slightly to suit our situation. The names may change, but the spirit is the same, the meaning the same. We must never hesitate to fight for what we hold dear, and what is true then is true now."

He recited the speech by memory, the ancient words secured in his mind as the combined fleets made their way in a grand and mighty procession into hyperspace, rank following rank of ships, human and alien all forging ahead to confront heir greatest enemy in their greatest test.

Officers, crew and soldiers of the Combined Fleets,

You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have

striven these many months. The eyes of the galaxy are upon you. The

hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you.

In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on

other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the Dilgar war

machine, the elimination of thair tyranny over the oppressed peoples of

the League, and security for ourselves in a free galaxy.

Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well

equipped and battle hardened. He will fight savagely.

But this is the year 2232! Much has happened since the Dilgar triumphs of

2230-31. The United Worlds have inflicted upon the Dilgar great defeats,

in open battle, man-to-man. Our Space offensive has seriously reduced their

strength in the stars and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home

Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions

of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men and women.

The tide has turned! The free people of the worlds are marching together to

Victory!

I have full confidence in your courage and devotion to duty and skill in

battle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory!

Good luck! And let us beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great

and noble undertaking.


	82. Chapter 82

Prelude

Minbar

2245

"It is cold in here." Jha'dur said with a hint of annoyance. "I don't know how you Minbari consider this temperature comfortable."

"I would have thought someone as cold blooded as you wouldn't mind."

"So speaks the woman who comes from a planet of ice and crystal. Hardly homely and reassuring is it?"

Satai Delenn replied with a thin smile. "It is if you call it home."

"I think I will pass."

"I would not expect you to know the beauty of Minbar." Delenn retorted. "Someone as twisted as you are can never know true beauty."

"I have seen beauty Delenn, I have seen more than you in your closeted little life could ever hope to compare with. I have seen sunrises and sunsets on worlds that no longer exist, and felt a dozen different suns warm my face. I have walked in cool streams that are now nothing but dust. I have watched migrations of birds so vast they blotted out the sun for hours at a time. I have seen life in all its glory and all its infamy. What I have seen, what I have touched, what I have come to understand no one else will ever be able to copy because it is all gone Delenn, all lost and that is the final truth of reality. What you have around you is fleeting, the sights you see, the words you hear, the lives you touch and love you feel. It's all finite, all of it. In the end it is just you, alone, with nothing but a sad memory of what you have lost."

She shook her head.

"Minbar is a cold beauty, white light that hurts to stare at. Tingling crystals in the wind that shivers the spine, sparse, cold and glittering cities filled with sparse and cold people." Jha'dur shook her head. "Call it home Delenn, but there is nothing welcoming there, no comfort and no warm glow of belonging. You consider yourselves so high and mighty, so far above such simplicity but you do not understand. You have lost something fundamental Delenn, something at the core of all creatures that still feel. You have no belonging, just like me."

The Warmaster took a slight sip while Delenn remained silent, turning over her words and trying to make an adequate response. The fact she did not answer immediately told Jha'dur all she needed to know.

"You are a distant people Delenn, disconnected from what is around you and disconnected from each other. You don't have familiarity like so many others in the galaxy do, and so when something happens, some tragedy you don't know how to react, you lose control."

"That is not true!"

"Oh come on Delenn, look around! If this isn't out of control what is? If this isn't acting on uncontrollable emotions what is? You didn't know how to handle your emotions Delenn, your whole race has spent so long trying to grow past feelings when something does stir you, you can't handle it! How many thousands have died because of your people and their delusional superiority?"

"This war is about more than Dukhat." Delenn said with a clear hint of discomfort.

"It certainly is, it's about the Warrior Caste attempting to justify their existence by beating down what they see as a child. Tell me Delenn, the last time a Child broke something of yours did you take it outside, beat it with a stick, and then execute it?"

"That is a disgusting thing to say." Delenn spoke harshly.

"It is what is happening out there, as you well know."

They sat quiely, Delenn brooding on the words Jha'dur had offered and annoyed by the insight she had shown, for her part the Warmaster just observed, appreciating the distraction from her normal routine or confinement.

"It is time for me to ask you something." Jha'dur raised her voice afresh. "Neroon came here because he wanted to know how humans fight, ignoring the far more important question of why they fight. You came here to look into their language and culture but you never said why. So I ask you Delenn, why?"

"I want to know about them."

"You already know a great deal, and most of the facts I have given you are freely available elsewhere. Humans are always keen to share and display their culture, it is very well known amongst the League and some elements of the Centauri courts. You don't need me for this, so why ask?"

"Because you are here."

"I think, in fact I know, it is because you want my opinion Delenn, my opinion on humans. You want me to be angry and bitter towards the race that defeated me."

"What purpose would that serve."

Jha'dur smiled widely. "Because if someone as evil as me hates humans then they must be good, and if they are good people it will take away the last doubt in your mind about ending this war."

"You think too much."

"Doesn't mean I'm not right." The Dilgar smiled triumphantly. "So why don't you tell me Delenn, is humanity worth saving?"

Delenn held the Warmasters gaze and did not look away from the cold blue eyes.

"I think no race should die for one man or woman."

"Well then, maybe there is a little hope for you yet." Jha'dur smiled. "All you have to do is stop the Warrior Caste. But I'm sure you already have a plan for that."

She looked away.

"I'm not interested in your little plan Delenn, I'll wait and see." Jha'dur dismissed. "Your race is lucky they are the favourite pets of the Vorlons and received the gifts you did. With your current fleet size, stodgy tactics and unbalanced lazy economy Earth Force would tear you to pieces in three months flat without your technology."

"The Warriors are scornful of the humans."

"That's because they're ashamed that these apparent barbarians are ten times the soldiers that the vaunted Warrior caste pretends to be." She chuckled. "That is easily the most entertaining thing about this war, seeing the look on Neroons face when the Black Star was destroyed. That is what happens when you step into range and try to fight against real warriors."

"They were lucky."

"We both know that isn't true, and we both know that ship had this coming."

She nodded. "These things happen in war. To us as well as to them."

"Good start Delenn, good start." Jha'dur offered a little clap. "While I find the Warriors amusing Minbar needs a better leader than they could ever be. I suppose that is why you were Dukhat's chosen. Very insightful man."

She stood up and walked over to one of her shelves laden down with old looking books and boxes filled with crystals. She took one and tossed it in her hand before taking it to a nearby slot with glee.

"I have something for you to listen to, see what you think."

She activated the crystal and a squeal of noise filled the room that forced Delenn to cringe a little. Jha'dur played the noise incredibly loudly, far louder than necessary but with apparent enjoyment.

"What in Valen's name…."

"Bagpipes." Jha'dur replied, having to talk over the noise. "From Earth, a musical instrument to some, or torture to others."

She lowered it down a little and returned to her seat.

"I find myself enjoying this, I have quite a selection."

"You enjoy it?" Delenn gawked. "They said you were sadistic…"

Jha'dur laughed a little.

"Some among the humans march to war with this sound, a piper walking with their ground forces into action. They've done it for thousands of years, through the age of mechanised war right up to today. When you invade their core colonies I am sure your warriors will come to know its meaning."

"Why?"

"It is an announcement, to those who know what it means." Jha'dur stated. "The warriors from Earth who marched to this music had a fierce reputation, so much so that their enemies often fled just upon hearing the pipes start up." She nodded slowly, absorbing the tune.

"I heard this very tune during the war. When the lines were breaking and everything was falling into confusion, when the frequencies were full of panicked voices and gunfire, this sound stood out. Cutting through the din I heard a piper somewhere on Balos playing for his fellow warriors, urging them to battle against my armies. I plan to live a very long time Delenn, but that sound will stay with me until my last day. It was terrifying, not for what it was but for what it represented. When your soldiers hear that Delenn, it doesn't mean the humans are giving up or running away, it means they're coming for your people and they aren't going to stop no matter the odds."

She curled her legs up beneath her and refilled her glass.

"So, ready for next part?" Jha'dur asked. "It includes how I came to be here chatting with you now."

"Yes, I'm sure the Council will like to know who it can thank for bringing you here."

"All in good time." Jha'dur nodded. "So, Balos, an unlikely place for a decisive battle but there it was none the less. Both sides had drawn up their strength focused on that unremarkable little world, all that remained was the spark that ignited the conflict."


	83. Chapter 83

Chapter 81

Command Cruiser Seffensa

Free Balosian Navy

First Wave, Liberation navy

Near Balos

July 6th, 2232

06:34 hours Local standard time

"Permission to enter the bridge sir."

With a thin lipped smile Commander Kanos, senior surviving officer of the once feared and proud Balosian military gave his ascent. They were but a shadow of their former selves, their uniforms patched and tattered much like their ships. It would be easy to mistake them as Raiders or pirates so unkempt were their vessels, but those ships still had It where it counted. Their systems were sharp, weapons primed and crews honed. Not what they once were, but still feared and still proud.

"Granted Captain Calendar, Captain Sakai. Please assume your post at the communication desk."

The two humans respectfully took their place on the bridge, already provided with a pair of human style chairs for their comfort. The journey might not have been luxurious, certainly not considering the current state of Captain Calendar's Space Race, but the addition of gravity was welcome and while spartan the Balosian crew had made them feel at home. It was a humble experience, they had little left in the world but shared willingly.

Paul and Jenny were comrades in arms, Kanos knew them personally and knew what they had risked in the face of the enemy. He knew their courage and devotion to all life, not just humans alone and he knew they would fight for Balos as hard as any of his crew. The Balosians had shared stories with them, marvelling at the numerous life and death escapes from the Dilgar fleet while relating their own tales of survival, victory and loss. The war had touched them all in one way or another, inflicting great loss or uncertainty. While they had contact with the resistance on Balos very few actually had news of their kin beneath the caverns and underdwellings, if they had survived or died with honour. It did not make them fight any less stoically, and it was up to Jenny and Paul to match this vigour.

They took their seats side by side, the station already having being refitted with human style communication gear many months earlier to prevent the Dilgar beating the Balosian code system. One addition was a small portable console hooked up to the main panel displaying a cycling text of the latest orders coming through the Gold Channels.

"Setting up." Jenny pulled the chair forward and locked it to the deck. "Main relays active, receiving standard transmissions. Code filters check, security systems active, we've got data links to both the Seventh and the Fourth fleets. We're good to go."

"Commander," Paul announced officially. "Communications fully active and standing by for orders."

"Very good, keep me informed of any information." Kanos stated. "Our hour has come at last."

Paul nodded and set his jaw. "We'll be ready."

He turned and focused on his station, Jenny beside him expertly tapping away at the keyboard of the portable computer.

"Present from home?" He asked with a smile.

"Something like that." She confirmed. "This little black box will let us read Dilgar battle signals the second they are sent. In theory."

"In theory?"

"The Dilgar have been really pulling up their game lately, getting hard to break their high level signals." Jenny admitted. "But their ship to ship comms are something else, hopefully we should still be able to read them. That's what this is for. Gift from Francis."

"And you don't have to be an electronic genius to work it?"

"He says it's idiot proof, but I won't let you near it to test that theory."

"Oh, good one." Paul grinned. "How long you been waiting to drop that punchline?"

"About three days now."

"They did teach you patience in deep cover training didn't they?"

"It's a gift." She confirmed. "He's going in with General Biek you know. Francis."

"Yeah, I know." Paul nodded. "He'll be fine, surrounded by half a million soldiers."

"He will." She nodded. "As safe as any of us."

"We'll be first into the most heavily defended system besides Omelos." Paul grinned widely. "Just like old times."

"For us, not for them." She nodded at Kanos and the other bridgecrew. "This is their home."

"Then we'll treat it with respect." Paul nodded. "And give the Dilgar the beating of their life."

"I hear that." She smiled. "That's the beacon."

"What? Already?"

"Already. Balos." Jenny recited the name with great weight, great respect. "It's time."

"Action stations." Commander Kanos delivered the words calmly with a depth of confidence. It was one more jump, one more battle, one more fight. In terms of execution it was no different from a hundred others, but the stars that surrounded them, the eyes that would see the fire they would paint the sky with, they would be new. Everything would be so much more focused, the whole crew was gearing towards the fight of their lives, this was finally it, all they had fought and worked for, all they had sacrificed for. Many had died without seeing this day, just hoping it would soon come, and now finally it was here and their comrades were ready to seize it.

"Commander, Earth Force Seventh Fleet is four minutes behind us, General Hernandez is ready to jump after we give him the co-ordinates." Jenny relayed quickly and professionally.

"Then we will now jump ourselves, locate the garrison forces and allow the General to jump out immediately within weapons range." Kanos nodded, than added a chuckle. "Let's see the Dilgar evade a fleet at point blank range."

There was a loud steady power up accompanied by a faint rattling as energy surged through the ship, an expectant racing pulse of nuclear fusion and barely restrained plasma.

"All systems ready Commander." Reported one of the crew. "We can jump."

The Balosian officer closed his slit eyes for a moment and looked to the floor.

"At last my kin, the day has come." He raised his head. "Jump."

He held his head high, chin set at a defiant angle as he remained stood on the bridge in dress uniform burning every heartbeat into memory. The fleet had no ceremony, no flourish and no welcome. They simply transited into the system a few million miles from their homeworld and conducted an intense scan, by the book and without emotion as a mark of true soldiers.

"Registering Dilgar fleet." The report came in. "Three hundred medium and light ships close to orbit."

"Where are the rest?" Kanos asked.

"Expanding radius."

For a few moments the sensors worked over, skimming the heavens to seek out the rest of the Dilgar fleet.

"Got them, eight hundred warships in the inner system."

"Picking up heavy warships mixed in with them." Jenny confirmed. "It's one of the main fleets, probably the Home Fleet itself."

"Our primary target." Paul recognised.

"Now we must draw them into the trap." Kanos stated. "We must be bait, pretend we have not seen them."

"The garrison fleet is on the move." Noted the sensor officer.

"Then that is where it begins." The officer confirmed. "Inform the Seventh fleet of its location, then form for attack."

Jenny got to work, Paul calculated where the Garrison would be and fed the numbers to his companion who then sent them to the waiting Earth Force ships. Against just the Balosians the Garrison force would be in for a stiff fight, they had numbers but the Balosians were some of the most experienced and hardened fighters in space battling to free their world. The addition of five hundred Earth Force heavy warships was simply overkill.

However the remaining Dilgar fleet would be more of a challenge, nearly a thousand ships including dreadnoughts and veteran crews was not a force to be underestimated, especially if it was the expected Dilgar Home Fleet. To that end Hamato had posted the Fourth Fleet to standby to jump in and ambush the Dilgar ships. The Fourth had seen action from day one of the war, as skilled and battle tested as any humans and quite capable of handling anything the enemy had. The Seventh fleet on the other hand was largely unblooded with just a handful of minor skirmishes to its credit, this would be its first and probably last battle.

Even with artificial gravity Paul could feel the acceleration as the Balosian fleet swept forward, their old Centauri ships assuming a crescent formation and pressing at high speed towards the Dilgar garrison fleet. The Balosian fleet was aggressive, even before the war they had understood the value of high speed attacks and would have posed problems for the Dilgar in an open battle. Jha'dur's surprise attack had wiped out most of their navy in minutes denying them the opportunity to prove their quality before their people until right now.

"Enemy adopting attack formation." Paul noted. "They're coming in head on."

"So much the better." Kanos grinned. "I am done chasing them around the galaxy. We stand and fight face to face."

"Reading fighters."

"Launch our own!" Kanos snarled in anticipation. "Launch everything, prepare for close range salvo fire."

From the small fleet streams of fighters flowed away from the larger ships, Tiger Furies, Delta-V's, Brakiri Falkosies and a handful of their own Balosian built interceptors assuming a mixed but potent assault wing to spearhead the fleet and take on the Thorun units ahead.

"Entering firing range." Jenny reported. "Seventh fleet is still a few minutes out."

"Understood." Kanos acknowledged. "Prepare to fire all batteries, break after the first salvo and come hard about for a second pass."

Jenny looked over to Paul. "They aren't waiting for reinforcements are they?"

"I would suppose not." He tightened his seatbelts. "Just like old times."

"I just remembered how much I hate the old times." Jenny huffed.

"Not as much as the Dilgar, better hold on to something, this is going to get violent."

The Balosian and Dilgar ships slammed together like a pair of waves meeting in a storm. The black and grey Balosian fighters were the first to attack, streaming a mix of weaponry at their green hulled foes, screeching in long hunting cries as first blood was drawn among the cold stars. The fighters rolled and twisted, tangling like vines around each other linked as if by invisible bonds causing them to circle and strafe in tight proximity. Fighters on both sides shattered in gouts of flame, whole engines often continuing wildly on course until they exhausted their remaining fuel. Some craft were so intent on engaging their hated enemies they did not break away or turn, and often these fighters would collide bodily in a flurry of light and debris, victims of their own blinding hatred.

The fighter squadrons kept each other busy clearing the way for the warships to engage each other without distraction. A handful of the slower moving Dilgar fighters fell victim to the advance, dashed to pieces on the bows of the Balosian fleet as it roared into battle with every weapon blasting fire and light. The Dilgar met them with just as much ferocity, filling the sky with a continuous rain of particle bolters and pulsar cannons, a stuttering carpet of energy shrinking quickly as the two fleets smashed together at full speed.

The two groups sliced through each others formations, passing by at ridiculously close range and never slackening the attack. The Earth made Plasma cannons gave the Balosians a huge advantage in such a point blank attack, as did their agility, but the furious anger of the Dilgar and the opportunity to battle this most reviled and feared foe caused them to engage with great vigour and despite massive damage their ships fought on until they were utterly destroyed by their black hulled hunters.

The Seffensa was at the fore of the attack as honour demanded with Commander Kanos proud to lead from the front and command such fine warriors in so historic a battle. The helmsman handled the cruiser like a fighter, ducking and swerving around live and dead Dilgar ships while keeping the weapons arcs as clear as possible. The gunners were alert and focused, compensating instantly for the rolls and turns of their warship and with practiced skill knocked enemy vessels out of the sky in growing numbers, usually taking down frigates in one well placed salvo of plasma fire.

Paul was gripping his arm rests in virtually total terror, the enemy formation was so dense and Balosians moving so fast it was a constantly repeating miracle that they hadn't collided with anything big yet. They passed within half a second of a Dilgar Destroyer, so close that the Seffensa's guns didn't even need to aim, no matter where they pointed they were guaranteed to hit the enemy ship. The plasma bursts cored the Dilgar ship in seconds, showering the Seffensa with molten metal that cooled to a dull red sprinkling on the upper hull, long rivulets like metallic blood splashed on the hunters face.

He wanted to make a quip to jenny who seemed to be taking the battle more calmly, but the breath was forced from him by a long hard climbing turn that even with gravity almost overcame him. The hull thundered with vibrations as it performed the evasive climb, doubling back a second later to fire on a cruiser that was hurling bolt fire at the Seffensa. The orange particle clusters were impossibly close yet the helmsman stayed that fraction of a second ahead of the enemy gunners necessary for survival, the Balosian gunners in turn reducing the slower moving enemy ship to fiercely burning slag. Two more Balosian ships swept past at even higher speed and took a moment to pummel the Dilgar cruiser as they proceeded, knocking out most of its guns and letting the Seffensa finish the job. It seemed like a lengthy battle but had in fact taken a mere eight seconds.

The ship rolled hard again, the banging of the hull deafeningly loud. The hull beside Paul split with a crack opening a fissure an inch wide and ten feet long across the bridge which only he seemed to care about. Things squealed and hissed beyond his sight, alarms blared and still the crew did not take heed, the helm officer throwing the ship into manoeuvres a frigate would think twice about. Space behind them was littered now with wrecks, yet there were still a large number of enemies before them.

He noticed that Kanos was actually speaking, though from his station he couldn't make out what he was saying. It was however good enough for the helm and main weapon coordinators who were sat much closer and responded to the obscured words that to Paul were blanketed by the din of a hard pressed ship and warning sirens.

He twisted his head to see the main viewscreen and found an image of white and yellow, the explosions were so close they were dominating the whole vista, the intensity of the battle all but unbelievable. The image cleared enough for him to see a Balosian destroyer take a trio of hits from a Dilgar warship, the energy bolts splitting the thin Centauri made armour and severing one of the curved crescent wings. The destroyer fell out of formation, rolling in flames across the path of the Seffensa barely a few hundred feet distance. With stunning calmness the helmsman dipped the starboard wing of the command ship and scraped under the tumbling ship with barely a flicker of concern, smoothly evading the danger without even slowing down or breaking the concentration of the gunners. The destroyer itself fell away for a few more moments before slamming head on into a Dilgar ship that was not fast or agile enough to get out of the way.

A pair of Thoruns crossed over the top of the Seffensa and launched a quartet of missiles into the flagship peeling away the outer hull and rupturing a couple of hull sections. In the same instant two more Dilgar ships fell to the cruisers guns, the warship twisting vertically between the two enemy ships and lashing them with upper and lower firing arcs. Speed was the best defense the Balosians had and was limiting the number of hits they took, but with the new generation of enhanced Dilgar guns even a small number of hits was enough to bring down the black clad warships and many Balosians had fallen behind and been overwhelmed by the Dilgar.

Without warning the sky cleared, where the view ahead had one moment been nothing but fire and Dilgar it was now just black with speckles of white, a distant fiery orange nebula glowing on one side while the brown and white pearl of Balos itself hung on the other.

"Reduce acceleration." Kanos spoke swiftly. "Slow us down and prepare to come about for another slashing attack."

The Balosian fleet had become separated and dispersed in the high speed attack, each vessel or small group finding its own path through the tight Dilgar ranks and flailing casualties. Wit impressive control they reformed and integrated themselves back into combat formation, centred on the Seffensa.

"Dilgar ships are also coming around." Jenny observed. "They are tightening their formation and preparing to meet another assault."

"Let them." Kanos grinned wildly. "Just lets us kill them faster."

The Balosian fleet flew on a few more moments, framed by the planet beneath them and the gaseous nebula above. They cut a majestic sight, dangerous looking lean warships handled with exacting precision. Any doubts about their fighting prowess would be banished by one glimpse of the assorted vessels and their fighter screens, and the odds they were facing surely proved their courage.

The Dilgar ships turned leisurely with no hurry, all they had to do was dress their formation, fill any gaps and wait for the Balosians to make their next move, another unintelligent frontal attack. The ferocity of the first attack had surprised them, the cleaving attack had pushed right through their formation and inflicted heavy losses which could have been avoided. The fleet Battle Master would not make the same mistake twice.

He closed the formation, brought his ships to within a few miles of each other and staggered the battle lines to deny the Balosians a straight and clear path through the Dilgar ships. If they tried to go through the middle again they would come under massive concentrated fire, if they went around the edges it would become a contest of attrition that the numerically superior Dilgar would win. The Battle Master settled with confidence into his new deployment and advanced slowly.

Kanos did not interrupt, content to gather his own forces and elegantly loop the whole formation over in the distant sunlight, not simply preparing for further action but doing so in style. It might not make much of a difference practically but the pride the Balosians took in such displays certainly strengthened their spirit and that alone was worth it.

"All ships, form on me." Kanos ordered. "Standby to attack on my order. Captain Sakai, now if you please."

The Balosian ships dropped in behind and beside the Seffensa like a flock of predatory birds, lining up for another head on attack and pausing, waiting to be released under their Commanders orders into the midst of their enemy once more. The Dilgar also waited, eager to be finally rid of the Balosian fleet here in sight of their own planet. The Dilgar waited for the Balosians, the Balosians waited for Kanos, Kanos waited for Jenny and Jenny waited for a reply to the message she had just delivered on the Commanders orders.

They didn't have to exercise their patience for long.

Fully a quarter of the remaining Dilgar ships vanished in one single instant, dissolved in a turmoil of expanding light that broke upon them with no warning. Scores of ships flashed out of jump points with guns already blazing, their targeting solutions pre-plotted thanks to the information Jenny sent from the Seffensa. The cruiser elements of General Hernandez' Eighth fleet had engaged before they were even fully out of hyperspace and had given the Dilgar no time to react.

The brand new Hyperion cruisers flew in a stately procession beneath the Dilgar garrison fleet and unleashed their heavy cannons dousing the enemy ships in blue plasma, a rising tide of rapid fire energy that inflicted massive casualties on the densely packed formations. Impossible as it seemed at that moment the situation grew even worse with the detection of a second set of jump points. From this group exited the two dozen dreadnoughts of the Eighth fleet, armed to the teeth with oversized cannons the crossed between the Balosians and the remaining Dilgar, broadsides armed and turrets already swung out to rake the Dilgar formation.

Against the massed guns of Earth Force the close packed Dilgar formation was a death trap. The outer ships had already split off and were accelerating to get some distance, a panicked series of evasive turns that got them clear but also isolated them from their comrades. Most of the ships however where hemmed in, obstructed by their comrades and unable to escape the sudden deluge of heavy weapons fire that now bracketed the formation. The second the Dreadnoughts arrived the final result had become inevitable.

The massed strike cut through the Dilgar like rays of sun through mist. The dreadnought broadsides tore apart anything in their path, hitting the same ships over and over again until even their wrecks had been reduced to tiny fragments. The cruisers rapidly mopped up those few ships far enough away to have avoided the dreadnoughts while the speedy Balosians now made their move, hunting down and destroying any stragglers.

Not one Dilgar ship tried to surrender, and every one of them went down with guns blazing, albeit ineffectually in the face of the overwhelming firepower unleashed upon them.

"That's all of them." Jenny reported with a smile. "For now anyway, the other Dilgar fleet has moved behind one of the moons."

"It will attack soon." Kanos said with firm belief. "They will not run, they will wait until we are vulnerable."

"Then we should give them what they want." Paul smiled. "Fourth fleet is still out there ready to spring the second half of the trap."

"They will have their chance soon." Kanos nodded. "In the meantime we have more to do."

"The fleet is back in formation." Jenny noted. "And I have a signal from General Hernandez."

"Very good, receive message."

Jenny quickly tapped a few keys, hoped she had set up the right channel and not the home shopping network, then patched it through. To her relief it was indeed the correct signal.

"Commander Kanos, my compliments, that was an excellent set up."

"Thank you General." The officer hissed in amusement. "As you say, they did not know what hit them."

"We registered some data on what might be the Dilgar Home Fleet?" The General posed. "Is it still in system?"

"Yes, hopefully they do not know we spotted them." Kanos confirmed. "They are behind the second moon preparing to ambush us as we engage the planetary defences."

"I'll inform General Benton of the Fourth fleet over a coded channel."

"I suggest we draw them out first." Kanos spoke. "Then catch them in a cross fire."

"Sounds like a good plan." Hernandez agreed. "Are you in position to engage the planetary defences?"

"Ready General."

"I'm assigning some Starfury wings and Frigates to help you." The Earth Force officer informed. "Sweep these two sectors clear of satellites and mines."

"I see them." Kanos confirmed.

"I'll take the bulk of my fleet to bring down the battle stations, between us we'll clear a way for the first wave of the invasion force. By then I'm hoping Home Fleet will make its appearance."

"We will execute at once, to success General."

"To success and to freedom Commander. Good luck."

"I kept meaning to ask." Paul drew his companions attention. "Ever been in a space battle before?"

"A real one?" jenny asked. "No, just those close runs with the Race we both shared."

"I got involved in one of the early attacks on Brakir, that was pretty damn intense." Paul said. "Nothing like this though. Most of the time we were just trying to save our butts and get clear, but a real pitched battle like this, its something else."

"Really is."

"I don't think I'm doing much to help back here." He considered.

"We have our jobs, and just showing up is helping." Jenny returned. "We're a morale boost, because we are sat here it shows the Balosians that not only are we on the same side but that Earth trusts them enough to put two valuable agents on their ship. Well, a valuable agent and her semi respectable boyfriend anyway."

"Hey, I'm turning over a new leaf!" Paul protested. "I haven't done anything illegal since… well okay that's a bad argument, but most of the time I have government approval for my schemes."

"Most of them." Jenny agreed. "Even the Director was impressed by the sheer level of creativity in your tax returns."

"Well I chose to look at it as an art form."

"You lie as well as most field agents." She smiled. "The Director was ready to give you a job based on that alone."

"Nice to have a talent."

The gravity shifted again as the Seffensa made a high speed turn, dropping its nose to face the planet.

"I swear he's just trying to make us throw up." Paul accused. "He doesn't need to do all this ship twiddling nonsense."

"Worked well for him so far." Jenny laughed a little. "Ship twiddling?"

"Probably the scientific term."

"Better hang on then, I doubt the Dilgar defence grid is going to make this comfortable for us."

"It'll probably sound boring when we tell our grandkids about this." Paul remarked.

"Under EIA rules if you tell anyone before the year 2500 I'll have to kill you, probably by beating you with a walking frame."

Paul frowned. "We don't have normal lives like other people do we?"

"No, not really." She smiled widely. "I wouldn't change it for the world. Better watch your screen, look out for warnings from the other ships."

"Okay, ready." He took a deep breath. "When this is done I'm taking a year long break on Disney Planet."

The planet rushed up with dizzying speed, growing from a distant ball to a vast sphere that the Seffensa seemed to be plummeting towards. With a gut wrenching lurch the warship altered course and swung into orbit, Dilgar satellites spitting fire at it while the rest of the Balosian fleet followed suit.

"Starfuries coming through above and below!" Jenny called out. "They're going for the medium satellites with nukes!"

"And we will deal with the bigger ones!" Kanos announced with fervour. "All ships and guns, fire as you bear, engage at will!"

There was a further series of sharp jolts that bumped Paul up and down briefly while the Seffensa evaded the heaviest Dilgar fire and positioned to return some of its own, and then he was back in the numbing grip of high speed combat.

"incoming forward, Dart fighters!" Yelled the sensor officers. "They're carrying nukes!"

"Point defences engage." Kanos ordered. "Hold course and speed, main batteries fire on satellites off the starboard bow!"

The Seffensa continued blazing fire, swarms of fighters whizzing past it in the colours of all three groups fighting for the planet. A Squadron of Tiger Furies in Earth Force grey swept forward and engaged the nuke armed Thoruns, engines burning at full to overtake their allies and clear a path for the Balosian warships. One of the Tigers passed low enough to barely miss the cruisers hull, dropping over the side of the ship to surprise a Dart Fighter lining up to put a missile into the Seffensa's flank.

A distant satellite flashed and fell apart as it was struck by a volley of sixteen inch calibre railgun shells, an Artemis Frigate squadron turning away under heavy interceptor cover as it parted the thickly knitted Dilgar defences. A Dilgar ship fell slowly downwards, unpowered and shattered by the allies it began to heat up as it touched the atmosphere, one of a thousand shooting stars burning in the Balosian sky.

The Seffensa didn't slow down as it weaved through the battle scene, avoiding reams of Earth Force gunfire, allied ships and clumps of wrecked metal. Ahead heavy bolter fire slowly crossed the gulf to meet them, slow and ponderous at first but seeming to gather speed as it drew up to the cruiser before blazing past sharply in a blast of orange daylight.

Kanos timed the shots, looked for the pattern and then ordered the attack. "Evasive starboard, fire all guns!"

The two satellites ahead paced the Balosian ship throwing a steady barrage its way, bolt cannons thundering and recoiling with the mechanical thump of heavy energy rounds. Both satellites were quickly destroyed as the Seffensa zeroed in, but not before they managed a solid hit on the Balosian vessel.

"Direct hit!" Paul shouted, assuming the violent jolt of the deck did not inform Kanos on its own.

"Damage report?"

"They shot a chunk off the forward hull, long range sensors and comms are down!"

"We don't need them in this sort of fight." Kanos smiled savagely. "Correct course, keep firing!"

In a higher orbit an equally intense battle was ongoing as the Seventh Fleet pressed down on the network of Dilgar space stations and stellar fortresses. The large structures were bristling with guns and thick armour but their static nature made them bullet magnets. The Earth Force fleet flooded the vicinity with laser, plasma and rail gun discharges turning local space into one massive white hot flame. The shockwaves of expanding energy from the assault rumbling the hulls of ships thousands of miles away and blazing like a clear second sun even in the broad daylight of the planet below.

There was a brief cheer on the bridge of the Tirpitz as a Dilgar gunnery outpost succumbed to the battleships firepower, multiple laser batteries cutting through hull and supports and causing the cylindrical station to fold in on itself like a discarded rinks can, billowing flame as it crushed itself.

"Detonation confirmed, one more down."

"Well done people." General Hernandez approved gruffly, nodding his dark haired head to the gunnery officer. "Now line me up another one."

"Sir, Balosian ships have cleared Alpha sector, moving on to Beta." Commander Horowitz stated softly, her gentle voice just about registering over the cheers. "They're half way done."

The sensors showed multiple nuclear strikes, one of the Starfury wings had penetrated the fighter defences and saturated one of the battlestations with forty nukes. The mighty station cracked like concrete hit with a sledge hammer, breaking into small chunks in a haze of white and blue energy that lingered on in the heart of the battle silhouetting the Earth Force fleet in a ghostly glow.

"There goes another!" Horowitz beamed.

"Keep it focused Commander, still lots more out there."

One of the forward Hyperion cruisers was wracked by gunfire, its interceptors overpowered and escorts wrecked the clean grey hull was turned virtually inside out within twelve seconds of concentrated fire from a battlestation, the massive facility making short work of the suddenly vulnerable warship. In return six dreadnoughts salvoed laser fire on the station, rippling waves of red running along the sides of the ships and tearing through the armoured base in a constant flow of melting metal and exploding air and fuel. The station had enough time to smash the forward armour of one of the dreadnoughts before it succumbed leaving the EAS Roosevelt scarred but still combat capable.

"Check spacing." Hernandez ordered. "Cruiser group Three is getting a little close to us, we don't want to look like a target for a high yield nuke."

"Confirmed sir." The black haired XO confirmed. "I'm ordering them to back off."

"Then set us up on another station, sooner or later the Dilgar fleet will have to act. Then we'll have a stand up fight."

Paul had to cover his ears as an air pipe burst close to his head, its jacket overwhelmed by internal pressure as the Seffensa hung in combat without pity or pause. The escaping air screeched like a banshee, louder even than the myriad of alarms which by now were just background noise.

Paul reached up and found an old fashioned valve on the pipe served by a simple lever. As the system had not automatically cut out he was forced to turn the lever, fighting against its stiffness and the buck of the heavily engaged ship until the jet stopped and the piercing sound vanished.

"No success on jamming!" Jenny reported loudly over the noise. "Whatever control signal they are using for the satellites I can't isolate or hack into it!"

"There is no signal, Dilgar satellites are manned!" Kanos replied. "A dozen or so crew each, I heard it was punishment duty!"

Paul could believe that, trapped in a weakly armoured box with no means of evading fire and registered as a priority target in most assaults it was a virtual death sentence. Still, they were Dilgar getting killed so Paul found himself not really caring a whole lot.

"Fighters report orbital mines almost cleared!" Paul noticed the information and told Kanos.

"And we are almost out of satellites." The Balosian noted. "Finish the last ones, then we wait for the enemy fleet."

The last cluster of Dilgar satellites were firing as furiously as the first, bolt and pulsar shots expertly sweeping the sky. The hollow husks of an Earth Force Corvette and a few Starfuries showed where they had stopped one attack dead, now the Seffensa and her escorts lined up for a much more potent strike.

The half dozen emplacements immediately scored a long range hit, blasting a Balosian frigate into fragments long before the short ranged plasma guns could reply.

"Evasive action, sweep on the port flank and strafe them." Kanos commanded. "Don't slow down, don't let them draw a lead on you."

The cruiser dipped its nose, throwing off a barrage of Dilgar fire and narrowly escaping destruction. It graceful circled in a long turn and returned fire, smashing one of the satellites as it approached. The faster moving frigates were already gunning past, delivering a concentrated volley before rushing away to set up for a second attack if required.

The Seffensa suddenly sheared hard to the right, violent enough to yank Paul's chair around to face backwards. He grunted and turned himself back, body aching with the punch of gravity. A particle bolt grazed the hull, splitting open a hundred metre long gash along the left wing and flash burning thousands of cubic feet of air in a rapturous explosion that sent the ship spinning wildly out of control.

"Counter thrusters!" Kanos roared. "Level the ship!"

The black ship groaned with stressed metal supports, thrusters burning on all extremities in brief spurts to correct the fall and keep the ship mobile in such a way that the satellites didn't finish her off. Even before she was stable the guns were firing, picking off the last of the satellites and clearing the sky.

"Put us back on course." The Commander relaxed a little. "Send damage control teams and move us to the rendezvous, we'll escort in the landing forces."

"Close one there." Paul sighed.

"Nothing new in that." Kanos grinned. "For either of us!"

Paul laughed. "That's true, sending message to all ships to form on new coordinates."

"Very good." Kanos approved. "We might make a Balosian of you yet Captain, good work."

"General, Balosian fleet reports area clear. Withdrawing for phase two."

"Acknowledge." Hernandez confirmed. "Helm, cut forward propulsion and angle for alpha strike."

The rumbling of the Dreadnought stopped, a sound so familiar it was usually ignored until it suddenly stopped, the massive engines running down to idle. The turn was barely noticeable as the Dreadnought lined up its side batteries for a strike, gun turrets swinging or elevating as required to bring the appropriate level of firepower to bear. The target was already lit up like a flaring sun, a half wrecked station rent with holes from which plumes of burning gases, liquids and plasma escaped in a majestic and ethereal display of devastation. Explosions walked along the stations surface as a pair of cruisers lashed it with heavy plasma rounds, the battlestations own weapons having been long since destroyed.

"Solution plotted."

"Open fire."

The EAS Tirpitz delivered its broadside cleanly on target, each of the turrets focused on the same spot to punch deep into the station rather than cause massive wide spread surface damage. The burned a yellow hole of molten metal deep into the station, fundamentally weakening it and causing it to eventually break up, aided by the associated cruisers and frigates of the command group.

"There's the Coup de grace sir." Commander Horowitz noted with a white smile. "Job done."

"So it is." Hernandez moved on. "Deploy the fleet in a perimeter over the landing zone, facing outwards."

"Aye sir."

"We'll take defensive positions and wait for our feline friends to work up the nerve to take us on." The General grunted out the challenge. "Get a message to the League freighters, tell them to jump in and drop the cargo."

The 'Cargo' referred to five million Gaim warriors crammed into bulk ore drop pods. As a hardy and genetically created breed the Gaim Warriors did not need the formality of a controlled re-entry, they would simply be nudged towards the planet and left for gravity to take its course.

"How is our guest?"

"She's still sealed in the special cargo bay." Horowitz reported with a mild grimace. "We haven't heard two words from them since coming aboard."

"I'll consider that a good sign. Inform the Gaim Ambassador we are deploying his forces, and we will move the Queen closer to the planet so she can do whatever it is she does to control them."

"Understood sir."

"Ever seen a Gaim Warrior Commander?" Hernandez asked.

"No sir, and I don't really want to."

"I can agree with you on that." The General nodded in sincerity. "Take position, they still have ground batteries so not too close. Once the troops are down if the Dilgar fleet still hasn't responded we'll go for the ship yards out on the LaGrange points. That'll piss 'em off."

With a flurry of light more ships entered the Balosian system behind the allied vessels. These vessels did not have the dangerous lines of the Balosian warships or the hard bulwarks and massed batteries of the human vessels, they were instead an assortment of bulky shapes and attachments. Many were different colours displaying a range of styles and origins, products of a dozen worlds separated by hundreds of lightyears yet united by the war.

These ships had come from across the League, hundreds of them escorted by a smattering of warships and jump capable vessels Some where from Earth, a handful of Belt Alliance freighters detailed for this mission but most were from league worlds. The Belt Alliance was employed full time topping up the gargantuan amounts of resources necessary just to keep the Earth Alliance in the war so far from home, and they had only just launched their offensive.

Most of the ships were Pak'Ma'Ra freighters, as were most of the escorts. Largely ignored by the Dilgar as harmless and too far away to bother with the Pak'Ma'Ra had managed to maintain their merchant and military fleets had their pre-war strength with only a few losses to the Dilgar. With their homeworld's atmosphere unbreathable to most races and their military disorganised on a scale which made the rest of the League look like elites the Pak'Ma'Ra had used the time to build defences and mass resources to help their cousins.

As a race they were often looked down upon, at best called sullen and unresponsive, at worst denounced as xenophobic parasites, yet from day one of the war they had taken in refugees from affected worlds and worked actively to save lives. The Pak'Ma'Ra believed in experiencing life, in going beyond their world and looking at other planets, meeting other races and learning all they could about them before returning home and sharing their discoveries with their people. A Pak'Ma'Ra was defined by many things, but first and foremost was curiosity.

The Dilgar threatened that. The Dilgar did not share with the Pak'Ma'Ra, answering questions with bolter fire before the explorer ships could come much closer. They ravaged the galaxy, burned down things the Pak'Ma'Ra would have liked to savour and enjoy, in time there would be nothing left to experience, no more sensations to enrich their lives and sate their curiosity. Something had to be done.

They had no true standing navy, though warships did exist and were surprisingly formidable the Pak'Ma'Ra had absolutely no concept of central control. There were no Admirals, no politicians, no chain of command. Even if they had wanted to they could never have integrated into the Earth Fleet or even their neighbours the Drazi. But what they did have in huge numbers were freighters. These ships had spared countless refugees from a gruesome fate and had helped fuel the Drazi counter offensives. They had crossed known space countless times and most recently had flown in supplies to Brakir. They were the veins of the League delivering what was needed when it was needed where it was needed. They had saved millions of lives and continued to support millions more. They didn't even ask for thanks.

Today they had a new task, they and their brethren who had just arrived at Balos. They held well back from the planet and remained outside the range of the heavy ground batteries, massive cannons that would punch clean through a Dreadnought and make short work of even the biggest freighter. Slowly the fleet of freighters moved into position and then in waves began disengaging cargo pods. Some simply floated away, others had to dropped through doors from internal holds, but it did not matter much. Inertia carried them towards Balos until gravity took over and the pods began their descent.

With the job done the freighters began to withdraw. While many among the Pak'Ma'Ra wished to stay and witness the effects of the seeds they had sown they had been convinced it was too dangerous. There was still a Dilgar fleet out there and the League couldn't afford to lose a resource as vital to the future as a Pak'Ma'Ra merchant fleet.

The Balosians provided cover while they withdrew but no Dilgar vessels interrupted, no ships or fighters tried to disrupt the operation. If they had known what was in the pods they would curse themselves for what they had allowed to happen and what was now about to be unleashed on the soldiers of the Balosian Occupation Army.

Balos

Heavy Battery Se'tash

Sixty miles outside designated EA Landing site.

The facility was one of dozens the Dilgar had emplaced on Balos, a literal fortress in the desert that stood beside the ruins of an old Balosian city burned out by orbital strikes during the initial attack. They were astonishing works of engineering, small military towns surrounded by thick walls and bunkers designed to defeat insurgents. The Dilgar had not been able to take the whole planet from the Balosians, the endless subterranean caverns and tunnels meant terror attacks and sabotage wore down field armies and bases. Instead they had created fortresses at key locations to pin down vital areas mostly to do with mining or manufacturing. The Dilgar sent out small patrols and occasional raids into the tunnels but mostly stayed behind their walls, and the Balosians didn't have the power to dislodge them.

The centre of these forts were usually anti starship weapons, colossal guns buried in the earth beneath thickly armoured embrasures that would open and allow the cannons to rise up and scan the horizon. They were some of the biggest guns ever created, monsters far nastier than anything mobile enough to be mounted on a starship. Right now Fortress Se'tash was at full readiness, its gun primed and deployed ready to shoot the first human ship fool enough to come into range. So far none had, but the crews stayed ready and the attached infantry garrison likewise manned their posts and prepared to meet a human invasion.

Ultimately it was not humans they had to worry about.

"Company, stand to!"

The one eyed face of Combat Master Fra'jal leered from the shadows, the pale moonlight of the pre dawn morning creating a cold and harsh glaze across the landscape. His unit immediately clambered to their feet, a mix of old soldiers and new recruits common to the makeup of forces that populated the Imperium. Some of the new recruits were barely out of childhood, some probably weren't.

Balos had some of the best soldiers in the Imperium, they were the best the Dilgar had, veterans of the bitter counter insurgency here on Balos itself mixed with units pulled from the Drazi front. They had never faced Earth Force before, but likewise human soldiers had never faced a Dilgar army so hard bitten and combat tested.

Fra'jal's unit like most of those manning the fortresses wasn't as renowned as the field armies, those forces were being massed in secret under the umbrella of the capital city and its massive defences to prepare for a general offensive against wherever Earth Force landed. Instead his team was largely overlooked but were among the true heroes of the Imperium locked in near daily battles with the prodigiously deadly Balosian guerrillas who were every bit as lethal as one would expect from a society of giant hunting lizards with guns.

He looked over his troops with his one remaining eye, the other having been lost a year earlier to a particularly vicious Balosian chieftain, a mighty warrior who had met the wrong end of Fra'jals bayonet a few moments later.

"Our sensor officers report objects are entering the atmosphere. Drop pods."

"I didn't think humans used drop pods?" His second Gru'phe remarked. "Bit risky for them."

"Well they are coming, some are coming here, so tool up and jump in the Lynx platoon, we're going for a ride."

Within a few minutes they were on their way, ten multi role wheeled vehicles filing through the armoured gates and out into the blue lit desert beyond. Above them the sky blazed with shooting stars, a rain of fire from heaven bringing demons to the surface. Some where simply pieces of debris from the battle falling ground wards, enough to make it impossible for any surface missile stations to distinguish drop pods from debris and decoys. It would be down to the army to pinpoint enemy landing zones and make initial contact while the field armies prepared to hit any human concentrations.

"Sir, got an update." One of soldiers reported from within the vehicle. "Four pods coming down near here, should land in the city."

"Very well." Fra'jal nodded. "Draw us up in the town square, Earth Force will have these vehicles for breakfast in an urban fight."

The wheeled carriers came to a stop, their turrets sweeping to and fro as the troops inside piled out quickly and conscientiously, a display a human officer would have appreciated.

"Form in platoons!" Fra'jal ordered. "We go in on foot! Use cover, shoot anything! We'll give those apes a lesson in evolution, move out!"

The Dilgar troops advanced down the ruined streets cast in black and white still using torches fixed to their rifles to clear shadows. As they moved an object suddenly flashed overhead followed by a thunderclap of wind and sound.

"Down!" Fra'jal shouted as the blast of hot air hit, jumping dust from the rubble and shaking a few bricks loose. There was another massive crash and a shudder in the ground as the object hit the ground with brutal force.

"Drop pod?" Gru'phe wondered.

"Yes, move in and encircle it."

"The humans are good sir, but there's no way they are walking away from that hit."

"I know, they're probably paste, but use caution anyway." Fra'jal commanded. "Okay, go, I'll bring up the rest of the unit."

The Dilgar moved faster now, spotting the plume of smoke and soon coming to the landing point of the drop pod, or more accurately its crash site.

"First squad, go right." Gru'phe gestured. "Second squad dig in and provide cover."

The Dilgar troops flung themselves to the ground, others coming up and taking othe rpositions close by. Fra'jal took his part of the Company to a different location and found cover among the rubble, a hundred rifles focused on the bent and smoking pod.

"Looks like a cargo container." Gru'phe noted. "I don't think there's anyone in there, maybe a supply drop?"

"Might be handy." Fra'jal nodded. "Get someone up there to check it out."

"Tally, you're on!" Gru'phe called out one of his troops. "We don't have all day! Move!"

With a grunt the soldier moved, leading with his rifle and proceeding carefully. He stepped over the disturbed ground and reached the large vaguely square container.

"I don't see a door sir!" Tally reported.

"There is a hole in the top." The officer shouted back. "Climb up."

Tally was not enjoying this, something was very wrong and he was bound to discover it, the rifles trained his way did not make him feel any less vulnerable. Carefully he clambered up, the metal still rather warm to the touch. He walked up to the top and found the hole in the top, a split several feet wide caused by a ruptured seam.

"No movement." He said. "Looks empty."

"Tally, you haven't even looked in yet!"

"Well I can't hear anything sir."

"Stop being a ponce and go right up to the hole!"

"Yes sir." Tally sighed. "I have a bad feeling about this."

He inched closer, edging towards the pitch black aperture. He noticed an odd smell, a cloying sickly scent rising from the container like spilt medicine. He was holding his breath, clutching his rifle tightly as he got closer, everything seemed to descend into pure silence as he peered over, like the world had frozen except for him.

He saw nothing, not a thing. He was about to report that fact when his eye caught a movement so fast he didn't even find time to pull his trigger. An instant later it was too late anyway.

It was hard to see exactly what happened from Fra'jal's vantage point, it was so fast it took a few instants to actually register. He was expecting trouble, prepared for the flash of gunfire of thump of grenades, he wasn't expecting a long black javelin to jab out of nowhere and impale Tally.

The soldier's legs buckled, no longer supporting his weight but it didn't matter, the spear was holding him up now. His rifle clattered to the ground as a long series of clicks came from within the pod, the long sharp protrusion mostly hidden in darkness. Then, as swiftly as it had emerged the spear was withdrawn back into the pod, hauling Tally in with it.

"What the…" Gru'phe choked.

"Shut up and fire!" Fra'jal snapped into clarity. "Shoot! Get some grenades in there!"

On his word the shaken company opened fire, flashes of blue light tracing the blackness and thudding into the pod with virtually no effect. Despite the lack of results just the act of shooting was valuable to Fra'jal, it let his men feel they were doing something and not standing powerless in front of a deadly mystery.

A pair of Dilgar darted forward, grenades in had making for the hole on top of the pod. They were halfway there when the surface of the metal box suddenly bulged with a deep bang. There were more bangs and more bulges began appearing, louder and more frequent. Metal that the Dilgar rifles had been unable to penetrate was being dented and torn by something inside, more than one something. Within seconds the container was distorted badly out of shape, a constant thunder of impacts joined by screeching steel as the structure gave way, sliced and split by long lacerating blades of black chitin.

"Sir?" Gru'phe pointed. "Sir, we do not want to be here anymore!"

"I think you're right." The one eyed officer nodded, his remaining eye locked on the rocking and shuddering container. "Company! Fall back, back to the transports!"

Without losing control the Dilgar began to pull back, leaving the scene of the crash ander constant rifle fire. The two soldiers with grenades made a last dash but too late, before they could throw the pod exploded into a black writhing mass, a flood of bubbling dark bodies bristling spikes and barbs. Hundreds if not thousands of Gaim warriors had been packed into the cargo pod and now finally unleashed they poured with a vengeance out into the moonlight.

The two closest Dilgar didn't have a chance, overrun and trampled by sharp claws the very second the pod cracked open. One of them had activated his grenade and it exploded, hard insectoid shells flying into the air eliciting screeches from the horde, but it did not slow them down or put a dent in their feral assault.

"Gaim!" Gru'phe shouted in pure terror. "By the gods, we're dead!"

"First Platoon, form line!" Fra'jal bellowed. "Stand your damn ground! Grenades now dammit!"

They couldn't outrun the Gaim, Fra'jal knew that, so they had to hope they could deliver enough firepower to hold them back long enough for help to arrive.

"Transports, come in!" He called into his radio. "Get down here now! We need immediate evac! We're under attack!"

The Dilgar troops took up cover in a ruined street, the clatter of Gaim right behind them. They hid wherever they could, breathing hard and under no illusions about what they were up against. Dilgar propaganda was unmatched but there were enough rumours going around the army to give some measure of truth to the fighters. Some of those rumours told about the Gaim, and none of them ended well.

Fra'jal dropped behind a pile of bricks, his own rifle fully charged with bayonet fixed, for all the good that would do. The Gaim thundered around the corner into the street, jostling and pushing each other in their need to rend the flesh from their enemies. They were every inch the nightmares of rumour, all spikes and mandibles pounding the ground and kicking masonry out of their way.

"Open fire!"

Normally the Dilgar would have had an excellent position, behind cover firing into a narrow bottleneck. Anything coming up the street should have been massacred, unfortunately the Gaim were not prepared to play to expectations.

The bolter fire crashed into the front of the swarm bringing down dozens of Gaim by sheer weight and concentration, but they did not slow down, the following warriors leaping over their wounded or dead brethren to get into close range. Against their bellies or heads the particle bolt rifles proved effective, but against most of the thorax and abdomen the weapons had great difficulty piercing their armoured hides. The thick chitin plates shed gunfire like water and with a deafening screech they fell upon the foremost Dilgar, claws rising and falling in a red shower.

Grenades exploded in the street, grey clouds of dust shrouding the carnage as they ripped apart Gaim soldiers and any wounded Dilgar before the Gaim could devour them. Again shrapnel often just bounced off their carapaces and where it did inflict serious damage the Gaim warrior was often still lethal. A Gaim with just two legs still managed to lunge over a wall and grab a Dilgar soldier with its mandibles, the sickle like appendages effortlessly slicing through his blast helmet and skull alike.

"Fall back by squad!" Fra'jal ordered. "Cover your neighbours!"

It was a good plan but doomed to failure. The collapsing back turned into a headlong retreat as the Gaim rushed into the Dilgar slaying troops on all sides. The retreat then turned into a full scale rout, with nothing more defined than running for your life and only pausing to fire a few shots if it looked like you were about to be overtaken by something a lot bigger and nastier than you were.

The long mantis limbs completely ignored body armour, stabbing victims with contemptuous easy or slicing like wicked sword blades cleaving three or four enemies at a time. Some Gaim had more traditional claws, large crab like pincers easily able to cut through metal supports or heavy gun barrels. One such creature snipped a Dilgar NCO in two before swinging with blunt force and smashing into another man, flipping him up into the air until he crashed into a building and was set upon by more of the giant insects.

Fra'jal ran, there wasn't really much of a choice there but he did try to keep the soldiers ahead of him on the move in some sort of order. One of the Gaim leapt through the air, a frightening feat it dropped onto two of his men with a crunch and slashed apart three more before they could react. It had come down blocking his path, and with more Gaim behind Fra'jal couldn't slow down. He set his jaw and fired on the beast.

His particle shots bounced off the creatures back, serving only to alert it to his proximity. The Gaim crouched and raised its razor sharp forelegs, ready to lash out and cut the Dilgar officer in two. With a roar Fra'jal dodged, still firing a stream of bolts at full auto. More by luck than anything else some of them hit the creatures head and the vulnerable eyes. It flailed madly and dangerously before rearing up and toppling backwards, limbs spasming wildly as Fra'jal darted around it.

He made it out of the street, a few dozen survivors ahead of him and nothing but claws behind. To his tremendous relief he noted the Lynx fighting vehicles smashing through walls and trundling over rubble at high speed, skidding to a halt and firing over the heads of the retreating troops. Streams of hot heavy particle bolts rushed overhead illuminating the terrifying scene, joined by high explosive rounds that slammed into the mass of Gaim.

"Load up and go!" He yelled, hovering on exhaustion but unable to stop running. "Back to the fortress!"

The vehicles took a massive toll on the Gaim, buying enough time to allow the survivors to get into the armoured transports but not stopping the advance. Fra'jal was the last in, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Drive!"

The Lynx was no match for an Earth Force armoured vehicle in most respects, but one thing in their favour was speed. The Lynx's skidded away, gun turrets swinging to keep the Gaim in their sights and under shell and bolt fire. One vehicle on the end was too slow, the Gaim swarmed over it and attacked. Limbs speared through the armour without impediment and massively strong claws ripped it open like a tin can, condemning its crew to a gruesome but swift death.

The remaining vehicles fled, the horde of Gaim flowing from the ruined city behind them keeping quite close to the vehicles, moving at scary speed out in the open.

Explosions peppered the land, the first artillery from the fortress crashing down on the heads of the Gaim soldiers, but it was too little and too late. The Allies had targeted four fortresses, the ones in range to fire on ships approaching the designated Earth Force landing zone. Each fortress was to be attacked by over a million Gaim each, a walking carpet of horror that outnumbered the defenders by over a thousand to one. It was so swift, the Gaim so close to their targets that the Dilgar could not deploy their biggest weapons, and with the stars above under Earth Force control there would be no fire from above to scour the land of the Gaim. The fortresses were on their own, and doomed.

The armoured vehicles shot through the metal doors, the aperture closing behind them as the defenders manned the walls. It was pointless, the wall was massively long around the base and just eight feet tall. It was designed to keep insurgents out, not act as a fixed barrier against an assault like this. The Gaim hit the walls hard, largely ignoring the defensive fire and just climbed over, limbs digging into concrete and pulling.

The sun rose on a blood stained land, Dilgar soldiers emptied their rifles to no effect, the unstoppable living tide simply consuming every thing in its path. Gaim died in large numbers but it did not matter to them, they did not care, they felt no fear or doubt. Controlled telepathically by the Queen in orbit they moved as one, and nothing in the Dilgar arsenal even slowed them down.

Fra'jal fired an anti tank missile at them, the needle sharp penetrator passing for hundreds of yards through the tight swarm killing scores of Gaim. Flame throwers jetted fire as a hasty line was formed behind the walls, setting a sheet of fire on the ground in front of the attack. The Gaim just ran through, their bodies alight in dancing flame as they speared and diced the defenders. Fra'jal just watched them, Demons from hell wreathed in fire delivering a total slaughter to the Dilgar, all their sins revisited in lump at the claws of the League's most deadly weapon.

He cast aside his weapon and began walking away as the defenders were wiped out around him, the base now blazing from the flamethrowers and heavy weapons. Armoured vehicles vanished, buried under screaming Gaim bodies rending them apart. Bunkers fired wildly, long streams of blue fire until Gaim warriors rushed forward, ignoring casualties before spewing bio acid into the apertures melting everything inside the defences up to and including the hardened gun barrels.

In the skies above winged Gaim swept down, clearing the roofs of snipers in a flurry of spikes and blood. They dropped to the ground and added to the slaughter, devouring their kills with neat sharp jaws.

Everywhere Dilgar screamed and Gaim shrieked, flames crackled and weapons banged, bodies ripped and claws squealed on armour. Fra'jal kept walking through the carnage, he didn't have anywhere to go, the Gaim were everywhere. Armoured doors were torn open like paper, the tunnels and caches in the base turned into charnel houses as the Gaim rampaged through and the Dilgar could not flee.

It was a vision of hell, more real and visceral than the Dilgar had ever created in this most brutal of wars, and Fra'jal couldn't escape the irony of it.

He couldn't escape at all.

Earth Force Seventh Fleet

Balos Orbit

11:55 hours EST

General Ferdinand Hernandez carefully sipped his tea, drawing it through the heat resistant straw and swallowing the bitter and hot liquid with a hint of discomfort. Taking nourishment in zero gravity was not the easiest task and even among practiced crews there was at least one person a day who ended up choking and coughing for a few minutes after a miscalculation. As a General Hernandez could not afford to be that victim, certainly not as he sat on the bridge surrounded by his crew.

The General was an old soldier with an impressive forty years of service under his belt as both a fighter pilot, station commander and cruiser officer. He was a respected by the book officer who perhaps did not have the same flair as Admiral Hamato but was a solid and dependable leader who put a strong emphasis on the well being of his command. He had led Cruiser squadrons before and once commanded the Io transfer point giving him the organisational skills vital for a good fleet commander, but apart from a few minor skirmishes this was his first true battle. So far, so good.

"Sir, latest reports."

He raised his bushy eyebrows to Commander Amy Horowitz, a small pale skinned woman of Israeli origin. Like most of the fleet she was fairly new with a record of service in the supply corps until the need for experienced crews to fill the newly build EA warships put her on the frontline, a decision she wasn't entirely thrilled with. The General Staff had broken Earth Force into three main groups, first were the old soldiers, those who had years of frontline service dating from before the war. These officers and crew filled up the veteran fleets of the Navy, the Nova squadrons of the fighter corps and the leading units of the army. The second group included Horowitz and was made of long serving officers transferred from other commands, they tended to be experienced and calm but still lacked the combat expertise of the front line veterans. They did however make excellent executive officers and filled support roles in frontline units freeing up other personnel for more direct roles. The third and largest group were those who had joined when the war started. The number of volunteers had been huge, more than the EA really needed and removing the need for conscription. There had been enough people to crew the Navy three times over, which was of course unnecessary and there wasn't enough troop ships in the galaxy to deploy them all into one battle. So they had filled up positions in the new build fleet and the Earth Force Second Army while most of the rest were held in reserve to replace wounded or exhausted crew and keep all units at full combat strength.

Beside the Commanding officers of the Dreadnoughts and Cruisers Seventh fleet mostly consisted of the second and third types of personnel, while the Fourth fleet awaiting the chance to attack from hyperspace was an old veteran fleet. Together they presented a very formidable force which should be more than capable of dealing with the Dilgar fleet currently skulking around the Balosian system.

He clipped his sealed cup to the side of the chair and put a pair of glasses on his nose to read the report. Horowitz summarised for him anyway, she had found most officers preferred the basic notes over the full details.

"Our fighter patrols have scouted everywhere except the most likely location of the Dilgar fleet, behind this moon here."

"Where the Balosians last spotted them."

"That's right sir, we didn't want to go poking around out there until we were sure there weren't any other surprises waiting for us."

"I think we've confirmed the area is safe." Hernandez handed back the report. "How are things on the planet?"

"Latest reports say the Gaim have completely overrun the five ground batteries they were dropped on and Balosian insurgents are right now sweeping the landing zones for mines."

"Good, at this rate we can start putting Earth and League soldiers on the ground in force within the hour. If we can deal with this enemy fleet of course."

"They may still have orders not to engage us." Horowitz suggested.

"Maybe, but the Dilgar haven't been shy about engaging our ships in Drazi space. I think they're out there waiting for us to be at our most vulnerable, while we're dropping troops. I'm not ready to risk waiting until then."

"Shall I assign a scout to that area sir?"

Hernandez considered his options for a moment before nodding. "Yes, lets get a squadron out there. If they want to sit around all day it comes down to us to prod them until they do something."

"There's a Balosian fighter squadron nearby, faster than our Furies sir."

"Alright, order them to take a look around the moon and then get the hell back here. Make sure they allow the Dilgar to see them, but no unnecessary risks."

"Yes sir."

"We'll dangle the ball of yarn in front of them, then see if kitty wants to come out and play."

The scout order was copied to the Seffensa for Commander Kanos' approval. While this was an Earth Force operation Kanos still had final say over his fleet and so Hernandez needed his say so before deploying the Balosian fighters forward.

"Send the squadron in." The Balosian nodded. "Scout the area and withdraw at the first sign of trouble."

"Right, I'll let them know." Paul nodded and sent off the message. "Think they're still there?"

"Almost certainly, a full Dilgar fleet." Kanos bared his teeth. "A real prize to end the day with."

"It would be." Jenny agreed.

"We beat the garrison, cleared a section of the defence grid and dropped people on the planet." Paul recited. "I think we're doing pretty good so far."

"As long as that fleet is out there we won't have orbital supremacy." Jenny reminded. "We need to take them out before we can fully support a ground landing and liberate Balos totally."

"That is what Earth wanted wasn't it?" Paul asked. "A real stand up fight?"

"Best way to break the enemy, gather them in one spot and give them a good beating." Jenny nodded. "Those ships are about a third of the total Dilgar reserves, if we take them it'll be a major victory."

"Think they'll fight?"

"Not a whole lot of other places they can run to, I think they'll fight." Jenny agreed. "Especially as general Hernandez has made us such a tempting target by putting us in the grav well."

"Meaning we'll be moving slower and will have our mobility hindered by the planet at our back."

"Dream target for an attacker." Jenny smiled. "The Dilgar won't pass it up unless they know it's a trap. That might be why they haven't attacked yet."

"But we haven't picked up jump points, so they're probably still out there, waiting for something."

"Probably. So now we'll give them something."

"Let's hope the plan works, a lot could go wrong." Paul warned.

"It could, but Admiral Hamato knows his stuff. Just keep an ear open for transmissions and relax, the Navy will probably handle most of this and we just get to hold back and make sure none of the Dilgar make a run for it." Jenny smiled warmly. "We've got them in a vice this time, we're going to win."

The Balosian squadron was one of the best, jetting through space with their Brakiri made interceptors they were just about the fastest things in the system, albeit rather under protected as a result. Named the 'Whirling Daggers' they had an impressive tally of kills despite their mediocre choice of fighter craft and were deemed more than able to take care of themselves if the circumstances dictated it. If they found what the fleet expected them to find that would be put to the test.

"Flight leader, we are crossing the terminator, moving behind the moon."

"Confirm." Paul answered from the Seffensa, his words translated by the computer. "We'll lose contact as you move behind the planetoid, if you haven't responded to hails within a minute…"

"Then we'll be dead and it will be time to avenge us." The Flight leader hissed in grim amusement. "At least you will know."

"Just be careful Flight, plenty more for you to do back here."

"Understood control, speak in a minute."

The sensors showed the squadron circling the moon and entering the dead space behind it. Even with the latest League scanners they couldn't see through a whole moon and still required some unlucky officers to fly out there and take a look. Each of the allied ships was on high alert, they weren't deployed for battle as per Hamato's plan but each crew member was ready for it manning their stations and wiping sweat from their palms as the seconds ticked on.

"Twenty seconds." Paul announced. "Contact expected in another forty."

The Balosians didn't use the same definition of time as humans did, but part of joining the fleets together had been adopting human measurements of time and distance as well as the various tactics and training regimes. With Earth providing the bulk of the Liberation Navy it was only logical.

"Thirty Five seconds."

Jenny's eyes never left the tactical display, fixed to it like a predatory hawk looking for its next meal.

"Forty."

Other fighters patrolled nearby, nonchalantly flitting back and forth around the stationary warships again trying to look casual when in truth they had never been more aware of the challenge they faced.

"Forty Five."

Commander Kanos ran a quick check on his ship, finding everything to his satisfaction he gave a grunt and a nod before looking back to the screen, the same one everyone except Paul was staring at. Paul himself was watching the clock counting up, the illuminated figures morphing before his eyes.

"Fifty seconds."

A storm of static exploded through the speakers forcing Paul to quickly reduce the volume, the noise on the other wise utterly silent and tense bridge was as violent and jarring as a gunshot.

"Flight leader, enemy in sight!" A voice blared through. "They're on the move right behind us! Going to maximum thrust, here they come!"

"Copy that to the human flagship." Kanos ordered. "Then prepare to advance."

EAS Tirpitz

"Balosian fighters on the screen." Commander Horowitz reported. "Getting a signal."

"Guessing by how fast they're hauling ass, I think we're going to have some company." General Hernandez concluded with a stretch of his arms and fingers, loosening the joints for the work they had in store.

"Confirmed, Balosian ships report Dilgar fleet moving this way at high speed."

"Set condition one, action stations." Hernandez ordered. "Launch reserve squadrons and power up the main engines."

With a growl the Dreadnoughts four ion drives came to life, massive ducts opening as magnetic fields forced reactant from the vessel. The amount of fuel needed to cold start the engines would have made any quartermaster weep blood, but it was necessary for the illusion Hernandez was creating.

""Fleet responding General." Horowitz confirmed. "The Balosians are taking point."

"Take it slow." Hernandez ordered. "We want the Dilgar to think they've got us cold. Bring us up out of orbit slowly and out of formation."

"Setting waypoints now." The Commander stated. "Sensors picking up enemy fleet, confirm Dreadnought class ships."

"That has to be them." Hernandez checked the data. "Homefleet is the only force in this sector with Dreadnoughts. That's our target."

The Seventh fleet made a pathetic display of breaking orbit, and deliberately so. Hamato's plan called for the Dilgar to be drawn into open space and Hernandez was the bait. It was hoped the prospect of catching a full EA fleet at it's most vulnerable and surprised would be the one circumstance the Dilgar commander would ignore the orders to avoid combat with human forces in order to achieve an unheard of victory over a prime Earth Battlegroup.

It was fairly difficult for the Earth Force ships to pull of this feigned panic, in much the same way it took a great deal of effort to turn the undisciplined League ships into a united fighting force so it had been a difficult job to turn an Earth Force naval squadron into a disorganised rabble. It was a risky proposition, if the Dilgar did pull a trick out of the hat, if they advanced too fast or arrived in greater than expected force the plan could back fire and they really could catch the Seventh Fleet at its worst, the results of that would be disastrous.

"That's it, eight hundred ships." Horowitz gave the final enemy disposition. "A slightly under strength Dilgar combat fleet."

"And a decent one, their deployment is neat and well planned." Hernandez took in the tactical data. "Close enough to cover each other, far enough away that we can't get chain kills with broadsides or nuke strikes. We'll have to take them the old fashioned way, ship to ship."

Even after all this time, after all the defeats and after being driven back to their earliest gains the Dilgar fleet was still an intimidating sight. The menacing designs cut through space rapidly, a shoal of piranha circling a school of sharks advancing purposefully on the apparently confused and panicked allies. These were not the latest Dilgar ships with their elegant hulls, bright decoration and full gravitic drives, these were old school, dirty green ships of war designed from the keel up to be deadly in action, cheap in construction and easily replaced in death. They weren't built to last, even in peacetime their components would wear through in less than a decade, but of course as far as Omelos cared there wouldn't be any need for them in ten years time, one way or another.

With a poor crew they were little more than target practice, easily cut down by Earth Force guns and easily countered with interceptors and thick armour. But in skilled hands, crewed by warriors like those in the Home fleet they were agile, heavily armed and still lethal to any opponent. When coordinated correctly they could concentrate fire and overwhelm interceptors, gouge the thickest armour and shred any vessel without loss. They had battled ships far more sophisticated than humanities finest and won, even the feared Yolu had suffered at Dilgar hands. Only a fool would discount the Dilgar even at this late hour, and as each of the human Captains knew the most dangerous opponent was the one forced into a corner with no way out.

"I have Dart fighters inbound General." Horowitz read the information on her console.

"Starfuries forward." Hernandez countered. "Order them to engage at will and move escorts into position."

"Aye sir, deploying now."

"Fine line between playing dead and being dead." Hernandez cautioned. "We can't let them get in among us."

The infamous cross winged fighters moved into action, at one point unknown and now familiar across the galaxy as a potent symbol of Earth Force. Some Dilgar pilots were known to shake just having the name mentioned within earshot, and in a rare agreement used the human word 'Fury' to describe them rather than translating it into their native language. When they had learned what the fighter was named after, the mythical Furies of ancient Greece the Thorun community had bitterly agreed that the name was well deserved. The League portrayed them as saviours and even the Centauri had grudgingly approved of the concept, quietly prompting their own industry to develop a counter code named 'Rutarian' that would use the most advanced technology available to create a galaxy beater. The Narn had simply decided to copy the principle in their new Frazi class, already called 'The Flying Tank' despite only being a paper design. Unknown to most Earth was already preparing to replace the Nova Fury, such was the pace of development in war.

For now though the twin Nova and Tiger furies were more than enough for Earth's needs, and with careful measurement and timing moved to attack the Thorun wings.

"Enemy ships are coming into range." Jenny called. "Frigates and Destroyers on point, Heavy Cruisers and Dreadnoughts behind."

"We will engage their destroyer screen." Kanos decided. "Peel away their cannon fodder and open their valuable ships to attack."

"Fighters are engaging."

"Release all squadrons, fire at will." The Balosian ordered. "Then set attack course."

"Laid in." The helm officer confirmed.

"Ah, I'd like to kill those Dreadnoughts." Kanos said wistfully. "If only we had the might."

"Earth Force will take care of it." Jenny answered. "At least we get a good view."

"I do not resent your people the honour of breaking the Dilgar." Kanos said. "You are fine soldiers, it is a right you have earned. It is enough to be part of this battle to restore some pride to my fleet, but I can dream!"

"If you had one heavy ship I wouldn't give a pentacan of Dilgar Dreadnoughts good odds against you." Paul smiled.

Kanos hissed a laugh. "A hope for the future Captain, if any Dilgar survive this war."

The fighter waves engaged again, fresh Thoruns against the slightly tired Balosian and human pilots. It didn't make much difference but sometimes it was enough to consign a Fury to a ball of flame or a Balosian to a long uncontrolled drop back to his homeworld. The level of fighting stepped up as the Balosian ships attacked, cutting down a unit of Dilgar escorts without loss in the first salvo before altering course and evading the return fire. They placed themselves in front of the Dilgar, a screen between the still out of formation Seventh fleet and the Dilgar attack, a brave move to buy time for their human allies, even though it was of course just an act. The Dilgar certainly seemed to be buying it, and concentrated on smashing through the Balosian screen to pick apart the human ships beyond.

"I think now is the time." Kanos announced. "We have drawn them out, tempted them with a trail of blood, now we tighten the snare."

"Coded message ready." Jenny responded. "On your word."

"It is given, send the coordinates." Kanos ordered. "Sink the spear into their flesh."

The Dilgar fleet was not yet fully engaged but it was close enough, to wait longer would put the Balosians and the Seventh fleet in jeopardy. Jenny sent the signal and activated the next part of the plan, providing the coordinates of the Dilgar fleet to General Benton currently holding under heavy jamming in hyperspace. Once the signal was sent she continued to update the information real time and gave the vessels of Benton's fleet all they needed to fire on the Dilgar the second they emerged into real space.

In a virtual copy of the arrival of General Hernandez, the Fourth fleet made their jump straight into action. Unlike before this Dilgar fleet was spread out and much larger than the garrison force and was not so easily scattered, there was no massive casualties, no huge broadside and no decisive strike, but the sudden arrival of five hundred prime Earth Force ships certainly had an affect.

The flowering jump points were a brief but clear portent, a startlingly beautiful way of delivering massive death and destruction to the Dilgar and finally tipping the scales over Balos. As before the warships were firing as they left the vortex, blasting through the closest flank of the Dilgar ships before setting a course to pass beneath their opponents. At the same time the Balosian fleet altered course and began engaging the equivalent vessels among the Dilgar lines, slashing into the destroyer groups even as they moved to redeploy.

"Fourth Fleet is on the field and engaging!" Horowitz cheered. "Enemy fleet is stalling, turning to meet them!"

"Right then, drop the act." Hernandez snarled. "Regroup the fleet, no more prancing around looking stupid. Benton is still outnumbered and could use a hand."

The orders were sent, and in the space of a second the whole feel of the battle changed. The officers and crew of the Seventh fleet seemed to simply snap out of it, the warships turning in unison and dropping quickly into formation around the flagship, gliding or roaring into place like sea monsters before lining up on the increasingly beleaguered Dilgar forces. Again the amount of fuel used to move so swiftly out of the Balosian gravwell was frightening and would expend most of the fleets resources, but if all went well it wouldn't matter. They had enough to finish the job.

"Set target parameters for enemy capital ship." Hernandez ordered. "We're going straight through the middle."

"Aye sir, deploying fleet into cone formation."

The Alliance ships gradually assumed the three dimensional equivalent of a flying wedge, a sharp pointed formation designed to pierce into the Dilgar group and fight clear through to the centre and the priority targets gathered there, the Dreadnoughts and Carriers. More than anything else Earth Force had to destroy those core warships and was prepared to ignore the flanking Dilgar forces to achieve that goal. While Fourth Fleet moved in a more traditional wall formation systematically carpeting the Dilgar fleet with gunfire Hernandez would go for the prize.

"All ahead flank." He commanded. "Dreadnoughts on point, don't stop shooting until you see space again."

The Seffensa skimmed the Dilgar fleet, shaving targets from the edges like sandpaper wearing away the numbers of the opposition. The Dilgar for their part were slightly preoccupied with the thousand Earth Force vessels now attacking from two different sides and made the mistake of forgetting about the Balosians, something Kanos was happy to exploit.

"Cross their advance!" He snapped with glee, revelling in the growing annihilation. "Cut off those cruisers!"

The ship turned hard, something which by now Paul was getting used to and in company with a dozen escorts delved into the enemy formation. They lined up on a path that took them around a Dilgar cruiser Pentacan that was in the middle of changing formation, spreading out to face the Earth Force assault. They did not notice Kanos until he was among them.

The Balosians took another measure of revenge, diving between the Dilgar ships and rending them at point blank range. Green hulls split and boiled, exploding silently in rings of burning air and multicoloured fuel. It was nothing compared to the suffering the Balosians had endured at Dilgar hands, it could never tip the balance of pain, but each enemy death was to be savoured and every Balosian victory extolled, for they were few enough.

The Seffensa rolled hard, hiding its damaged wing surface from Dilgar fire and spitting plasma at an enemy Cruiser looming off the port bow. The Dilgar ship shot back, only narrowly missing the expert Balosian crew before the Seffensa finished its work. The volume of fire was less than an Earth Force ship, but it was still more than the Dilgar cruiser could cope with and she broke up as the Balosian flagship rushed past, still splashing shots from its plasma batteries into the wreck.

One of the escorts raced past in flames, the small Frigate ripped to pieces by a Dilgar destroyer. It tried to ram an enemy vessel, a final valiant gesture, but missed and instead fell away towards nothing.

"Enemy locking on!" Paul warned.

"Evasive turn!" Kanos shouted. "Come about and return the favour!"

Bolt fire straddled the ship as it blazed around, engines working hard as it pulled around a gutted Dilgar gunship and lined up on its attacker. As Kanos brought his ship on target the Dilgar vessel shuddered, bright light haloing its rear section and tilting the ship off centre.

"She just got nuked!" Jenny grinned. "Starfuries on all sides! Seventh fleet is coming up dead astern!"

"Finish the job then break off." Kanos said. "Clear the way and support the human ships."

A volley of plasma fire finished the job, condemning the Dilgar warship to a cold grave before the Seffensa banked away, moving out of the forward arcs of General Hernandez and his vanguard. The Seventh fleet was spearheaded by the Nova class ships, as the point of the cone they would be subjected to the most fire and be expected to dish out the most punishment. It was fortunately a role the Dreadnoughts were well built for.

"Bow batteries concentrate of targets ahead." Hernandez barked. "Flank batteries fire on any targets of opportunity as we pass."

"Gun crews ready and able." Horowitz confirmed. "Balosian vessels are out of the red zone."

"All ships, commence fire." The General ordered. "Lets give them a taste."

The Dreadnought group unleashed its power, streams of red energy converging on any Dilgar ship unfortunate enough to be in their way. Entire cruisers vanished in a blink, torn into shreds by the focused fire of the heavy warships. The weak Dilgar armour and lack of any real damage control sealed the fate of dozens of vessels as they were caught in the advance, most didn't even get a chance to react. Any that did get clear were picked off by the flank batteries as the fleet drove forwards, or were mopped up by Hyperions or Artemis frigates on the edges of the Seventh fleet. Those few that managed to get well clear became sport for the Balosians, isolated and fleeing they were easy prey for the hunters.

The fleet pushed through the Dilgar frontline in the same way a bull goes through a china shop, slicing laser cannons flashed in every direction and touched off explosions across the sky. It was a dreadful sight, scores of burning ships drifted away as small internal explosions blossomed amid the ripped hull plates and crushed decks. After so much time since the Battle of Markab both human and Dilgar crews had forgotten the sheer level of violence a Nova group could dish out in full flow, it was as terrifying now as it was then.

But the Dilgar were not driven beyond rational thought. They quickly spotted the human tactics, analysed the path and formation of the two forces and quickly resolved the best course of action was to avoid getting caught between the two fleets and to stay clear of the massed forward guns. The orders were sent swiftly and the crews responded, dividing into Pentacans and melting out of formation. They used their acceleration to clear away from the human ships and attempt to swing around the flank of the Seventh fleet, attacking in dozens of small groups rather than one large fleet. It was a reasonable tactic, but the initial losses had been crippling and against any single human fleet there could not now be a Dilgar victory, against two fleets it was just plain hopeless. It did not stop them trying.

"Keep on course." Hernandez said. "If we try and turn to meet them it's going to be chaos. Focus on the enemy Dreadnoughts and like the cruisers and flank batteries handle the rest."

The cone formation pushed on, still engaging the Dilgar ships hemmed in by their colleagues or otherwise enable to escape. Meanwhile the cruisers and Frigates began to slow down and turn, deploying to meet the Pentacan attacks and keep the Dilgar strikes from harassing the Dreadnoughts.

Large discharges of plasma cooked the Dilgar hulls, even grazing hits transferred enough heat through the outer hulls to fry electronics and instantly kill any crew for hundreds of yards in any direction. The Earth Force cruisers punished the Dilgar mercilessly but still they attacked, crossing through the flank of the Seventh fleet despite huge losses. They met a wall of laser fire from the Dreadnoughts crossed with pouring plasma from cruisers. Rail guns emptied Dilgar ships of their vitals, tumbling crushed and shattered components out into space. Lasers lacerated their targets, in the case of small ships burning clean through while the plasma cannons pounded even the biggest ships to confetti.

The Dilgar still did not break, using their enhanced weapons to return fire against their tormentors. Some guns exploded as they charged and one dreadnought lost its entire right side when its bolters suffered a catastrophic failure, but others did not. One passed close enough to a Hyperion to outshoot the interceptors, pouring particle rounds into the Earth Force ship at point blank range. Unlike earlier battles the bolts pierced the armoured hide and wrought destruction within the ship, cutting the weapons feeds and causing jets of plasma to burst from a dozen spots across the hull like beams of sunlight through a cloud.

Starfury fighters were neck deep in Thoruns, engaging in a non stop battle at point blank range, destroying their targets and immediately moving on to the next. The human pilots like the rest of the fleet were not tremendously experienced but they were expertly trained and confident in their machines allowing them to give a good account of themselves. Squadrons from the Fourth Fleet raced in to support them, veteran pilots who quickly made a difference. The multirole human craft would unload anti ship missiles into the flanks and bellies of Dilgar warships before going on to engage fighters in turn, a capability rare in most single seat craft.

The Tirpitz shuddered and rattled as it took a series of hits, energised particles scoring the heavy forward armour and bleeding some velocity from its advance.

"Dilgar Dreadnought charging for a second strike!" Called the XO.

"Don't give her a chance." Hernandez demanded. "Forward guns, take it!"

On his word the eight laser cannons spoke, each one delivering a lance of red energy to the targeted Dilgar Mishakur. Each one of the shots cored into the vessel, creeping across its frame and severing supports as the gun turrets turned and barrels elevated to drag the beams to undamaged sections and ruin the Dilgar vessel.

Areas of the hull collapsed or ballooned outwards as the insides of the ship were gouged out, pillars of blue and green flame roared through gaps in the hull while orange fires burned up the escaping oxygen from broken up decks and shattered bulkheads. The Mishakur had never been designed to endure this level of firepower and within a few seconds it just fell apart, completely overpowered.

There was little time to celebrate.

"Cruisers on the flank!"

"Reset batteries for broadside fire!" Hernandez ordered.

Horowitz watched the gunnery status change before her eyes, the turrets swinging to track the new targets.

"Done!"

"Shoot!"

The rest of the guns fired, throwing traces of light to the left of the ship into the path of a small group of Dilgar cruisers and destroyers. Despite being just one ship the Tirpitz was more than adequate in the face of the small Dilgar squadron and cut through their hulls with impunity, slicing the enemy ships out of the sky. The largest of the Dilgar cruisers burst into flame, a quarter of its forward hull shaved off by laser cannons. It flew out of control through the Earth formation narrowly missing to Tirpitz and leaving a bright trail of cooling embers in its wake.

The Seventh fleet was taking some losses to its escort screen, but they were taking a heavy toll and destroying more Dilgar vessels than they destroyed Earth ships. More importantly they were also doing their job of breaking up the flanking attacks and whittling down the enemy numbers. Those that did break through did so in pairs or trios to face the Dreadnought core, no match for a Nova broadside.

Above the main plane of combat the Balosians were still hard at work engaging any Dilgar ships that tried to escape the human attack or were scattered by the massed firepower. The swift Balosian warships hunted them down, swarming large ships and scouring them with plasma attacks, breaking them apart in rapid succession against the back drop of the clashing fleets.

"Steady as you go, don't let him get away."

Kanos narrowed his eyes as the Dilgar cruiser grew larger on the view screen, its rear guns scattering energy fire in the path of the pursuing Seffensa.

"There is an enemy destroyer on our flank, she's turning to engage!" Paul warned.

"Hold this course!" Kanos commanded. "I want that cruiser first! Open fire!"

Plasma cannons pounded in their turrets as the Seffensa gained on the Dilgar ship, pulling up alongside and slowly overtaking as both ships rolled and turned like a slow motion dogfight. The plasma shots left deep glowing craters in the body of the Dilgar ship, each hit accompanied by a puff of vaporised metal and globules of molten hull fragments. The enemy ship burned and tore itself up, secondary explosions triggered by the heat blew the missile magazines and fuel tanks opening vast areas of the ship to space, delivering a cold fate for the crew.

The Seffensa passed a few hundred yards from the dying ship, illuminated in the glow of its demise and for a while shielded from attack by its wreck.

"Standby for emergency turn, target Dilgar destroyer on our flank." Kanos said. "Better lock yourselves down Captains Calendar and Sakai, this will be a little rough."

He was right, the warship performed a flat spin burning one bank of engines at full and the opposite set of retros at emergency power to whip the cruiser around. It was a similar tactic Starfury pilots used, but no one in their right mind would try it with a warship, let alone a cruiser. No doubt the original Centauri engineers would be beaming in pride at the performance the Balosians were forcing from their handiwork.

Inside the ship the experience was a brief nightmare, everything seemed to shift to the right, deck plates, doors, consoles and even some chairs. Paul was positive his seat bent a few degrees in the turn, and his console definitely seemed to have shifted an inch across the deck, its fittings tugged and twisted by the forces sent through the ship.

The violent manoeuvre did however achieve its goal, putting the threatening Dilgar ship straight in the sights of the Seffensa. It unloaded and close range salvo into the face of the Dilgar ship, the concentrated plasma fire battering its way deep into the enemy vessel and hammering the ship into a twisted mess. It went dark and lost power, drifting at high speed away from the fighting towards the Balosian moon.

"Target destroyed." Jenny reported with contentment. "Scope is clear, I think that's all of them."

"Confirmed." Paul agreed. "Message from General Benton, enemy fleet is destroyed, he's detaching Frigates to finish off stragglers."

"We will assist." Kanos announced. "Set up a patrol course, we will check the far side of the moons and look for more enemies to kill."

The helm officer set about the task of laying in a course that took them on a circle of the inner system to investigate the areas the sensors could not reach from orbit. The ship was still on alert but the atmosphere was changing, the uncertainty was gone and was being replaced by joy.

Paul could understand it, they had driven off and destroyed a major Dilgar force, cleared a path to Balos and were now watching as their world, their home was liberated from an enemy considered just seven months ago to be utterly unbeatable. Still, there was something that nagged him and prevented him sharing their enjoyment of the victory.

"You've got that face Paul." Jenny said. "That 'Something bad is going to happen' look I've seen before."

"What? You can tell that?"

"Of course I can, I know you too well." She answered. "Also you have the worst poker face in the galaxy. My niece could beat you at this point and she's just started junior school."

"Probably nothing." Paul dismissed.

"Come on, you've got a sixth sense for trouble. If you're out here and you've got the creeps I'm ready to bet something is wrong. What is it?"

"Well, those Dilgar ships."

"What about them?"

"Don't you think they blew up too easy?" Paul positioned. "I mean great result, and I'd rather they went up fast than hung around long enough to hurt us, but even with the firepower we were throwing out in earlier battles those ships lasted longer."

Jenny nodded reluctantly. "I kinda noticed that myself."

"It's like they were even weaker than before, but that makes no sense, the Home Fleet is an old formation, they should be using the exact same ships as previous fleets. These ones looked like they were much weaker copies."

"I think we better check the debris, see if these are a variation with weaker armour."

"One question though," Paul asked. "Why would the Dilgar deliberately weaken their ships?"

"Because weak ships are faster to build in large numbers." Jenny sighed. "I don't think this was the Home Fleet, I think they are still out there."

"So we've got another fight coming?"

"Yeah, I'd put money on it." Jenny confirmed. "Mark up another win for the Calendar danger sense."

"Yeah, this is just getting spooky."

"I'll let General Benton know, we can still take the Home fleet in a stand up fight with these ships but it pays to keep command informed."

"Means we can blame someone else for any screw ups."

"That's why we have a chain of command." Jenny smiled. "Maybe we should stay up here for a while, go down to the surface later."

"You read my mind." Paul nodded. "Just in case."

Jenny gave her guarded agreement.

"Just in case."


	84. Chapter 84

82

Dilgar Grand Fleet

Staging area Alpha

Near Balos

"What is your name?"

"Pilot Cadet Ha'jun Warmaster." The fresh faced soldier snapped a salute.

"And how old are you Cadet?" Jha'dur asked, returning the young mans salute with the respect it deserved.

"Seventeen Warmaster."

"Did you know that by your age the Supreme Warmaster had earned fourteen Drazi kills?"

"No Warmaster."

"It is a fact." Jha'dur affirmed. "Youth is no hindrance to bravery."

She briefly looked up to the other people in the grey room standing under bright artificial lights. Most were fresh cadets deployed in neat order waiting for the attention of the Warmaster. This for many was their first deployment to space, and quite possibly their last. They were impossibly young and nervous looking, the final scrapings of trained manpower Omelos could provide after so much war. Most were straight out of school, some should probably still be there.

Beside her was Captain An'jash, steady and loyal as ever carrying a wooden box lined with felt. Inside were an assortment of badges which Jha'dur was in the process of giving to the Cadets, their final qualifications and acceptance into the fleet. Also in the room were a few members of the Dilgar news service filming the ceremony for propaganda purposes.

She reached into the box and took a silver badge, turning the familiar shape ove rin her fingers.

"This is the badge of a pilot, Thorun wings Cadet."

"Yes Warmaster."

"You know what it means to wear these wings?"

"It means I have completed basic combat training and am qualified for a front line posting."

"It means more than that Cadet, it means you are part of something great and majestic."

She held the badge with a smile, then pointed to a set of gold wings on her own chest.

"These wings belonged to my father, an expert combat pilot. When you have ten enemy kills you will receive gold wings, if you earn more than twenty you will be given Platinum wings. I too qualified as a pilot, I earned the right to wear this badge as you now do."

She continued to smile.

"You have all heard of Ari'shan? He has a crate of platinum wings, so successful has he been! He is the most skilled pilot there is, yet at the core you, Cadet Ha'jun, are no different from him, or from me."

She held up the silver badge.

"What this shows is not simply that you remembered how to keep a jet in the air, memorised your vectors and fuel mixes. This badge shows you did something few in the galaxy achieve. You are soldiers, warriors of the Imperium. And that means more than I can say."

Jha'dur fixed Ha'jun with her gaze, but spoke to the whole room.

"You have been raised on stories of old warriors, men and women who stormed fortresses with nothing but a sword or axe. You ask how we today can compare to those heroes, we do not need to be face to face with our enemies, we just have to push buttons! Where is the courage in that?"

She let the question hang.

"Simple. Today as then we still face death. In the old days you could perhaps fight and expect to live, to hide in the ranks and take safety in numbers. Today there is no safety anywhere in battle, the nuclear missiles and massed guns of our enemies leave no place to hide. Much has changed in war, but the universal constant is fear."

"This badge, this pressing of silver shows that you, Cadet Hu'jun have mastered fear. If you can beat fear you can keep a level head in action and a clarity of instinct that will keep you alive. This badge shows that you are not afraid, as I am not afraid. And when we do not fear our enemy, nothing can stop us."

Solemnly she pinned the badge on the man's chest.

"Are you prepared to engage in battle?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Are you ready to go nose to nose with a Starfury no matter the cost?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Are you afraid?"

"No Warmaster."

"Then you are no longer a Cadet, welcome to the fleet Pilot Officer Hu'jan."

She delivered a sharp salute that was answered by the new officer, brimming with pride at his achievement. Jha'dur moved on to the next face.

"Your name Cadet?"

"Kri'ono Warmaster."

"And your age?"

"Sixteen Warmaster."

She smiled wide. "It is not a good start to lie to your commander. Real age."

The young Cadet looked to the ground, then back up. "Fourteen Warmaster."

"You should be in school."

"I am ready to fight Warmaster, I am fully qualified."

"In what role Cadet?"

"Gunnery Warmaster."

"I see."

Jha'dur took a gunnery badge from the tray, a simple set of silver crosshairs ringed in fire.

"What was your average?"

"Eight point six Warmaster."

"That is commendable accuracy." Jha'dur approved. "As I said earlier youth is no barrier to bravery, nor is it a barrier for skill."

She pinned the badge to his chest.

"Are you brave enough to stay by your gun while the ship around you burns?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Can you lay your gun with speed and accuracy even as human Dreadnought targets you for a broadside?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"And are you afraid Kri'ono?"

"No Warmaster."

"Then I welcome you to the fleet, Gunners Mate Kri'ono."

She moved to the next in line, a female who barely reached to her chest.

"Your name Cadet?"

"Jha'lun Warmaster." She answered.

"A fitting name." Jha'dur smiled widely. "Now your age, truthfully."

"It is twelve Warmaster."

"Twelve years old." Jha'dur clarified. "I had heard the recruiters were no longer checking backgrounds, but I was unaware they were quite so lax."

The Cadet was stood bolt upright. "Age is no barrier Warmaster."

"But there are limits Cadet."

"Not to bravery and duty to my race Warmaster."

Jha'dur chuckled "Well you have spirit, it takes a lot of nerve to argue with me Cadet."

"Yes Warmaster."

"What branch are you assigned to?"

"Engineering Warmaster. Damage control."

"That is a difficult job Cadet, you may have sole responsibility for saving a ship, or losing it. Can you accept that? Do you understand what is required of you?"

"Completely Warmaster." The uniformed child stated with surety.

Jha'dur took the Engineering badge, a stylised hyperspace vortex.

"Are you ready to crawl through burning corridors to save your ship?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Are you ready to seal dozens of crew in a venting compartment to prevent a chain decompression?"

"In a second Warmaster." The child replied with chilling determination.

"And are you afraid little girl?"

"No Warmaster."

"Then you are not a child anymore, you are a soldier. Congratulations, the future of our species depends on you, and those like you."

She affixed the badge to the cadet and then saluted, noting that Jha'lun responded in perfect time. She reminded herself of when she was twelve and if she were any different. Given the choice she would have probably gone to war, she had a lot of fire, a lot of hate back then. Maybe she still did.

As she stepped back she heard Captain An'jash whispering quietly in her ear.

"Warmaster, signal from Balos."

Jha'dur nodded. "Excuse me Cadets."

She stepped back and followed the Captain to the back of the room.

"Earth Force has secured the planet." An'jash said. "They're landing troops."

"When did this come through?"

"The message I was just given was stamped eight minutes ago."

"Good, very good." The Warmaster nodded. "This is exactly what I was hoping for, how many troops?"

"At least half a million."

"Perfect." Jha'dur grinned. "They are setting themselves up very nicely."

"Scouts count about a thousand human ships in the system."

"There are more out there." She replied. "No doubt waiting for us to move."

"Our scout missions show no ships within five hours of Balos, just a small troop convoy and escorts."

Jha'dur frowned. "Not the battlefleet?"

"No Warmaster."

"Now that is very strange, what is Hamato playing at?"

"We're not sure, we had a report of him moving towards Tirrith."

"That makes no sense." Jha'dur puzzled. "Unless, unless he thought he'd already broken us."

"The Balos garrison?"

"I left those ships there to lull them into a false sense of security." She smiled widely. "I didn't expect it to work quite so well. Five hours you say?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"I can retake Balos in two." The Dilgar leader confirmed. "Hamato just lost the war, all for the want of three hours. Get ready to move, we go at once before he realises what he has done."

Jha'dur returned to the cadets, and the cameras, with a wild smile.

"I regret I must cut this ceremony short, an urgent matter has arisen that needs my attention. Understand I do not consider this matter unimportant nor the contributions you have all made to the Imperium wasteful."

She signalled to an aide who brought up the box of unit badges.

"Take these badges yourselves, they are yours by right. You earned them and you do not need me to validate you. Each of you has done that for yourself."

She straightened her uniform and nodded to the guards at the door, An'jash was already on her way out of the room and calling on her communicator to prepare the Warmaster's shuttle.

"Very soon we will be in battle, and it will be the most momentous conflict in our history. To fight in it, to participate in this defining period of history is an honour unlike any other. We all rely on each other no matter our role, from Warmasters to Cadets. If any one fails, we all fail. If any one triumphs, it brings glory to us all."

She gave the Cadets a last look over.

"By standing here you have proven something to me, to all Omelos, to yourselves. Because of that you never have to prove anything to anyone ever again, you just need to stay alive and do your jobs."

She smiled.

"You have beaten your fears, after that there is nothing Earth Force can do that will be worse. The future belongs to you, all you have to do is reach out and claim it. You are no longer afraid, neither am I, and together great things await us."

Balos

1st Liberation Army Group

Hauser Plateau

Earth Force command had done an excellent job locating an appropriate landing zone, an area of Balos large enough to put an army on the ground swiftly but with terrain that was easily defendable. The plateau was a large slightly raised plain surrounded on three sides my a lengthy ring of mountains and crevices. It was theorised that the plateau had once been the caldera of a long extinct super volcano that had blown apart an eternity ago. A quick look in Balosian history confirmed there was indeed some sort of titanic disaster which drove the early Balosian race underground eons ago, the possibility of this plateau being a part of that disaster was not so distant a concept.

The initial Earth Force landings were bloodless and almost anti climactic, the anti lander defences that dotted the landscape had been overrun by the Gaim and rendered impotent though at great cost to the insectoid warriors. The Gaim had achieved massive success in their attack, the very definition of shock and awe, but when the Dilgar ground forces recovered and counter attacked before other League forces could deploy Gaim casualties grew to titanic proportions.

In close combat nothing could match a Gaim Warrior in fury, but as an infantry only force the Gaim were completely defenceless against the machines of war the Dilgar deployed. The Gaim hordes had been pounded by artillery and airstrikes around the clock, burned and blasted in their massive swarms around the clock for two days as they attacked deep into Dilgar holdings. While they did not succeed in destroying any major Dilgar forces they did force the enemy to fight defensively buying the League time to establish a secure landing zone on the plateau and build up enough strength to move out.

By this time the Gaim contingent was largely expended, no more than a few roving bands survived in the mountains ready to ambush Dilgar patrols and supply convoys and continue to make life on Balos incredibly hard for the feline race. The Gaim leadership was not especially concerned, they were used to throwing waves of soldiers into battle and sacrificing millions of them to gain just a few miles of land from a rival queen. They used warriors like Earth Force used bullets, just another resource to be used to win a war or thrown away in the process.

Never the less their contribution had been vital and no doubt saved thousands of League and human lives, not to mention giving Dilgar morale a massive jolt for the worse.

By the time Francis O'Leary made planet fall the area was as safe as anywhere could be on Balos, his shuttle sweeping through the night air in pitch blackness, so dark it could have been space. He was nestled uncomfortably between crates of communication gear being shipped down to the main command post, from a certain point of view he himself was an item of communication equipment so perhaps it was appropriate he had been squeezed into this particular supply craft. The vaguely triangular shuttle raised its nose and fired landing thrusters, dropping its gear but not illuminating the ground with landing lights. While the area was under Earth control it was still not prudent for aircraft to so clearly announce themselves so that everyone for miles around could see the landing.

The cockpit sensors prove dmore than adequate for the pilot, measuring the distance to the ground accurately enough for him to ease off the descent and bring the shuttle down to a gentle touchdown on one of the newly laid landing pads. Several square miles of the plateau were already under fast setting concrete and steel mesh laid by Earth Force engineers as temporary airstrips and landing pads, sheltered by prefab bunkers and protected munition depots.

The engines wound down and the belly doors popped open, immediately allowing several ground crew technicians to swarm in and start removing crates of equipment. Francis made his way between them, stepping off the craft into the cool dry air of the arid location.

"Mr O'Leary?" A female voice caught him.

"Yes, that's me."

"Lieutenant Anna Zarina, General staff." A slender and dark eyed officer introduced herself in a Russian accent. "General Biek is waiting for you, this way if you please."

Francis fell into step beside the officer, while she looked slim Lieutenant Zarina was surprisingly tall, looming over Francis as he trotted along. The new airbase was a scene of great activity illuminated by low level lighting to give the ground crew the conditions for their job. The engineers had not yet build hangars so the rows of aircraft and shuttles scattered across the base were stood in the open under starlight, busy figures lifting bombs and other devices onto the undersides of slim looking warplanes.

"Hope I haven't missed anything." He commented.

"Nothing much." Answered Zarina. "A few skirmishes at the edge of the landing zone. We've been running airstrikes to prevent them massing for a real counter attack before we are ready."

Ass he spoke there was a deep roar like ripping linen amplified to ridiculous levels as a pair of jets took off.

"Banshees right?" Francis asked.

"Yes, pure atmospheric fighter bombers, Jabos to a lot of the pilots."

"Jabo?"

"Thank the Germans for that one, short for Jagdbomber." The Lieutenant clarified. "Seems to have stuck, though I prefer Sturmovik."

More grey fighters took to the air laden with guided weapons. While incapable of space flight Earth Force had made sure they were highly optimised for atmospheric combat, this specialisation meant they could outperform dual air and space capable fighters in battle like the Dilgar Stingers and even Thoruns. It was more complicated and costly for Earth to deploy a pure space fighter in the form of a Starfury and a second pure atmospheric fighter in the shape of the Banshee than it was for the Dilgar to deploy just Thoruns, but the combat record of both craft justified the controversial decision.

They jumped over a drainage ditch and passed behind a pair of bulldozers busily clearing away a further part of the plateau to expand the airbase, scores of engineers pouring concrete from a tanker truck just a few yards behind the working machines. The pace of construction was intense and even in the dark of night it continued without abating.

Zarina led Francis beyond the construction site, past a series of buried fuel tanks for the aircraft and away into clearer ground proceeding slightly downhill towards the encampment where General Biek had set his command post.

To the left Francis could see a group of soldiers gathered around a heat lantern laughing and joking. Like most desert like environments Balos could get very cold at night necessitating a heat source. The lanterns issued by Earth Force served the role very well, much more efficient than fires and easier to set up or switch off in a hurry. Like a campfire though they also served as a meeting place for friends and comrades to congregate and share time, a useful tool of community building that strengthened the bond between the fighting men and women of humanity.

"The mobile command post is up ahead." Zarina nodded. "You will be based there and I will be your assistant."

"Oh, well that's good." Francis smiled. "I look forward to working with you."

"I am sure." The Russian replied humourlessly.

"Do I have somewhere to put my stuff?" He asked, his equipment consisting of nothing more than a single pack of clothing.

"You will share a tent with me." Lieutenant Zarina said simply. "You will have your side, I will have mine."

"Okay, that sounds like a fair arrangement."

She stopped in her tracks and fixed Francis with an intense stare.

"If it any point in the night you feel an urge to cross onto my side of the tent, then the next urge you feel will be the desire to get out of the hospital bed I put you in. Are we clear on this matter?"

Francis nodded. "Totally."

"Well, now that is cleared up, the General is no doubt ready to see you."

They continued to the command post, a well armoured APC surmounted by a series of antennae and dishes that turned and scanned frequently. An aide left the doorway in the side and climbed onto a motorcycle, starting it up and growling off into the night on some errand or another. Beside them the gathering of soldiers had begun singing jauntily, an old song but delivered with great spirit and gusto.

"It's called Katyusha." Zarina answered Francis' question before it was asked. "They are my unit, First Kremlin Guards Armoured Division."

"What is it about?"

"Love left behind." She answered hollowly. "Same thing most Russian soldiers songs are about these days."

"Sounds so cheerful."

"The men are cheerful. We were expecting to take heavy losses on the way in. We didn't lose a single ship." She shrugged. "A good cause for celebration."

"That's great news, but there is still a hard battle coming."

"But that is tomorrow." Zarina said. "Tonight is tonight. We're alive, free, and that is reason to celebrate. But not too much."

"Yeah, hospital bed." Francis remembered.

Zarina gave a flicker of a smile. "We will get on just fine. The general is waiting."

Without further ado he stepped up the small ladder and entered the command vehicle, making his way into a decent sized compartment with a line of consoles on the right hand side and a sizeable table at the back. There was enough room to walk upright and by Francis' guess it looked like the compartment could expand for use or contract for transport. It was dimly lit inside with most of the light coming from the sensor screens, a pale green electronic light which highlighted three officers working at the displays.

General Biek was leaning over the table at the far end of the compartment, cropped hair casting a prickly shadow on the wall behind. The table itself had a video display inlaid in its top and was currently underlighting the general with bright light and stark shadows. He looked like a cheap horror film villain.

"Sir, Agent O'Leary reporting."

Biek did not look away from the table and the topographical image it was showing.

"Glad you could make it." He said hinting at neither sarcasm nor sincerity.

"Lieutenant Zarina has shown me my accommodation and a quick look at the layout of the base."

"Your post will be there." Biek pointed to the edge of the table. "You'll find slots for your equipment, and you'll be close by if you need to report anything to me."

"Yes General."

"You'll find I am not a man for small talk." Biek continued briskly. "I like things done fast and done right. You are supposed to be the best at what you do therefore I expect perfection and will tolerate nothing less. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly sir." Francis said formally, already adjusting his manner to suit the new circumstance.

"Very well. Now, get yourself set up and tap into the fleet net. I want a status report."

"Yes sir."

Francis battled the urge to complain, he'd been travelling for hours and could never get any decent sleep on a starship. He was tired, ruffled and grumpy with his mind and body in dire need of a good rest. Francis suspected this was a test on the part of the General to see what the agent was made of, a theory he quickly confirmed.

"I don't usually hold with civilian contractors, and I include the EIA as a civilian group." Biek shared his views. "Yes, I know you employ a lot of military personnel on long term transfer, but I'd take a serving specialist over an EIA agent any day. If things get rough I know I can count on a man or woman in uniform to fight no matter their job."

"For the record sir I underwent two weeks training at Ranger school." Francis said as he plugged in his portable computer.

Biek raised an eyebrow. "Who with?"

"Gunny Hurley." Answered the young man. "And he didn't pull any punches."

"No, that's not his style."

"I've also gone hand to hand with a Dilgar Spectre and helped storm a Dilgar advanced warship. I haven't earned a uniform sir, but you can count on me to do my part in a fight."

With a beep Francis switched on his computer and linked into the Earth Force secure network.

"I still don't like civilians doing the army's jobs." Biek said with less harshness. "But maybe I'll give you a chance."

"I won't disappoint General." Francis nodded. "I'm into the network."

"Very good, check for any updates to the days orders."

Francis did as ordered, skimming over the standing orders issued to the fleet and building a picture of the situation.

"There's heavy jamming in hyperspace, Dilgar ELINT ships I suspect."

"Trying to blind us to their movements?" Biek asked.

"Standard Dilgar practice sir, it means they haven't given up on Balos. They'll be preparing a counter attack."

"And the jamming means it'll be impossible to say when."

"May I make a suggestion General?"

Biek looked up. "Go ahead Agent O'Leary."

"Our ships can't cut through the jamming, Dilgar sensor technology is beyond our own, however we do have an Abbai ship in the Liberation Navy. The Syontar under Captain Cashic. Their sensors could probably beat the Dilgar jammers if we called her in."

"I'll put in a request with the Admiral, see if he can spare her." Biek nodded. "That was a good suggestion Agent."

"Thank you sir."

"Keep reading."

"General Benton is senior officer in orbit and has assumed command." Francis Continued. "General Hernandez and the Seventh fleet is still in orbit covering those of us on the ground, while Benton's Fourth Fleet is patrolling near by to intercept any raids or attacks by the Dilgar fleet."

"Where is the Airborne Corps?" Biek wondered. "They should be flying in today."

"According to the schedule they'll be here in four hours."

"And the first Belt Alliance convoy?"

"Sixteen hundred hours tomorrow sir."

Biek grunted. "It'll have to do. Civilian contractors." He shook his head in exasperation.

"I know one or two civilian freight crews, you might be surprised at some of the things they've done. As brave as a navy crew."

"The Navy has a duty to risk its safety for Earth, civilian crews risk themselves for a profit."

"Not all the time sir." Francis felt a need to stand up for his new friends on the Space Race. "One of them is up there right now with the Balosians on their command ship."

The General grunted again. "Exception that proves the rule." He dismissed. "Now, back to our work. I want you to take this down and put it on the battle net, it's going under situational report."

"Ready sir."

"First Army deployed and advancing out of the landing zone. Second army preparing to advance in support. Airborne Corps inbound to take over garrison duties and act as strategic reserve."

Francis was not a natural typist, but the blunt phrasing of the General kept everything to the point.

"Markab and Brakiri forces also deployed and viable. Gaim forces objectives met, Gaim field armies effectively destroyed."

Francis kept typing.

"Main Dilgar defences in this area located and placed under attack. Full scale offensive will commence at seven hundred hours tomorrow Earth Standard time. First Army will break out into Dilgar territory and hand on to Second Army to advance towards the established Dilgar capital. Brakiri and human airborne forces will act as reserve to exploit any weaknesses that become apparent. Alright Agent, that's all."

Francis finished the update and confirmed it, uploading the information for the senior members of Earth Force to read and factor into their strategy. He considered for a moment who would be reading his words, everyone from the Joint Chiefs to the President himself. It wasn't his first high level report, but it still made him feel humble.

"So there is the plan." Biek said. "Tomorrow we hit the Dilgar with a massive armoured assault, punch through with one army and open a path for our Second Army to race all the way to Kitty central."

"If I may ask sir, why do we need to fight them on the ground?"

"Two reasons. First the Dilgar are well dug in. The only way to prize them out without ground troops would be saturation strikes from orbit. Easy as that is I doubt the Balosians will enjoy us carpet nuking half a continent."

"I expect not sir."

"Secondly the Dilgar have pulled back under their orbital umbrella or anti ship weapons. If we position ships to try and fire on the Dilgar army they'll be in the firing lines of the Dilgar ground batteries, and those guns are killers."

"So we have to attack them then."

"No other way. The Gaim took out enough guns for us to land and keep ships above our bases as protection. Anything not under cover has already been destroyed by General Hernandez with precision orbital strikes and as we advance our primary objective will be the enemy ground batteries. With them gone Hernandez can move his ships and give the Dilgar army a taste of Nova Broadside."

"What if the Dilgar try to do the same to us?"

"Any Dilgar ship will have to get past the Seventh fleet." Biek said confidently. "And even if they do we've been putting up satellites since we landed, we have our own little defence grid up there with enough nukes to make the Dilgar back off and wait for help. We should be safe to advance, our big question is air power. We have plenty of gunships and fighters, but we expect Kitty is keeping his warplanes hidden from us. When we star t moving we may face a serious air assault."

"A lot of the Balosian fighters are atmosphere capable, might be worth keeping them close by in reserve." Francis said. "Infact I think some of their warships are too."

"Second good idea of the day, I think I'm starting to agree with Hamato, you have your uses Agent O'Leary."

"Thank you sir."

"Speaking of Balosians one of their representatives will be here tomorrow to watch us go into action, I want you to escort him."

"Yes sir."

"Your friend should be arriving too, the liaison, Calendar isn't it?"

"That's right sir."

"Right, well your job is to keep them out of my hair until we break through. Find a good spot and watch the battle."

"Yes sir."

"Alright Agent, go get some sleep. Long day tomorrow."

"Yes sir." He nodded and turned.

"Also Agent O'Leary, remind Lieutenant Zarina to show you the shelters. We have good air defences here and our laser systems can knock down ballistic missiles, but just in case. This base is a prime target for air attack, wouldn't want you getting nuked on the first day of the offensive."

"I think I can agree on that one sir."

"I'll see you tomorrow Agent, sleep well." The General dismissed. "We've all got some pay to earn."

July 8th

07:16 hours EST

"I swear it's those damn helmets." Alfredo Garibaldi ran his fingers through his short, spiky and rapidly vanishing hair. "They pull it out you know."

"Sure thing Sarge." Dom agreed as he executed the difficult task of shaving in zero gravity.

"Maybe it's stress either." Garibaldi remained focused on the mirror in the troop ships locker room.

"Stress from the war?"

"No, from running this damn platoon of misfits and trouble makers." The Sergeant retorted. "And I think I'm going grey. Swell."

"They say it's hereditary." A new voice remarked deeply. Garibaldi and Dom recognized the tones at once and made an effort to appear at attention despite the conditions.

"As you were." Captain Franklin gestured for them to continue. "Every year some scientist says they've got a cure for baldness." The Captain swept a meaty hand over his own smooth scalp. "Like hell."

"I remember seeing bald Centauri." Garibaldi mentioned. "If they haven't figured it out after all this time with their love of hair…" He shrugged. "We're doomed sir."

"That's why I shave my head, if I'm going to lose my hair it's going to be my choice." Franklin affirmed. "And you're right Sergeant, the helmets seemed to be designed to make you bald. Much better fit without hair."

Franklin ran his hands under the sonic tap, an efficient way to clean up without worrying about water spray.

"How's the Platoon Sergeant?"

"Well armed and ready to go sir. No hesitation or doubt, we're ready for it."

"Good to hear, and Lieutenant Fox?"

"She's settling in well sir." Garibaldi confirmed. "We decided to skip the usual welcoming ceremony."

"Is that the one where you get the new platoon member drunk, strip them naked, paint them blue and then leave them in a public square?"

"Yes sir. The platoon wanted to go with it, but I overruled them. Didn't think she'd really see the funny side."

"Very responsible Sergeant."

"My job sir. Though it was pretty damn tempting."

"I saw her taking a shower once." Dom stated. "We're not missing much."

It took him nearly five seconds to notice the other two men were glaring at him.

"It was an accident!" He defended. "Sort of."

"That's mixed billets for you." Garibaldi chuckled.

"Moving on before I start thinking about punishment duty…" Franklin gave a veiled warning. "We have our orders."

Franklin shook his hands to try them, a force of habit as the sonic fawcett used no liquid.

"I just had a briefing with the Colonel, the landings on Balos went without a hitch, our people are in position and by now will be advancing on the enemy."

"So it's already started." Garibaldi observed.

"Command has control of the situation so we don't need to go in guns blazing. We'll land in the rear zone and set up camp. Nice and leisurely, we probably won't see action for a week or two if ever."

"I think the guys might be a little disappointed, they were ready to get to grips with Kitty."

"I understand." Franklin agreed. "We've seen what the Dilgar are capable of, what they do to prisoners and civilians. We all want to stop them dead and get a little payback. This is probably going to be the last stand up fight of the war, personally I think we'll see some action."

"Yes sir, I doubt the Dilgar are going to just roll over." Garibaldi considered.

"We're the best airborne troops in the Force." Franklin said with pride. "If they need a strongpoint flanking we'll get the call. Tell the platoon we'll be going in cold, but to expect fighting in the future."

"Yes sir." The Sarge nodded. "When do these plans ever go right anyway?"

"No plan survives contact with the enemy." Franklin recited the old quote. "Whoever can adapt best to changing situations wins. That's what we're trained to do."

"And the Dilgar too."

"That's true." Franklin confirmed. "Intelligence shows the Dilgar force son Balos are the best they have. No political troops or camp guards, these are hardened regulars and elite divisions. Imperial Guards, heavy mechanised units, infiltrators, tunnel rats and assault brigades. They make the guys we've fought so far look like Girl Guides."

"You think they'll try and pull something on us?" Garibaldi asked.

"Almost certainly. These Dilgar know how to fight. They'll flank us, assault us, ambush us, all the dirty tricks of war they can think of. My guess is Earth Force will need at least double the troops down there to get the job done, and it'll take at least a month to bring in another two armies. Going to be rough for a while."

"Well they don't pay us to walk around and look pretty." Garibaldi stated.

"Lucky thing for you Sarge." Dom rubbed a towel over his freshly shaved chin.

"Don't make me fetch the crowbar son." Garibaldi grinned in a mock threat.

"Make sure everyone knows the picture Sergeant." Franklin said in conclusion. "Don't be taken in by an easy landing. If we've been lucky so far its because the Dilgar are saving themselves for a hard fight later. Assume nothing, stay sharp at all times once we hit the dirt. No mistakes Sergeant, lets try and get everyone home alive."

Garibaldi couldn't agree more.

Balos

Francis savoured the breeze, feeling it twitch his hair and caress his face as it passed. It was surprisingly cool and light without any of the dust he had expected, presumably at this altitude the heat of the desert landscape had largely bled away leaving a rather temperate shadow of itself. As the disturbance in the air passed on he opened his eyes and replaced his wide brimmed sun hat on top of his head. As a native Irish man he didn't react well to excessive sunshine, a facet of his ancestry mocked by his friends relentlessly. He kept his pale complexion covered over and shaded, even in his current location while still quite cool the amount of sunlight could turn him bright red within an hour or two.

His companion had no such concerns, his hard leathery skin and small eyes evolved for exactly these conditions. The Balosian was quite intimidating to look at, appearing like a sort of evolved dinosaur with a keen intelligence merged with sharp teeth and powerful claws. His tail tapped on the rock of the mountainside they were stood upon absently flicking back and forth as he gazed through a set of crescent shaped Balosian binoculars.

The view was absolutely breathtaking, on any other day Francis would have been simply overwhelmed by the majesty of it all. He was stood on a relatively high slope on the edge of the landing zone. Earth Force had put down inside a horse shoe of mountains, the hastily named Hauser Plateau well protected from flanking attacks. In front of the plateau the mountains parted and fed out onto a wide plain a few dozen miles across and hundreds of miles long encompassing a large chunk of the landscape. It had once been a great lake or sea, its water boiled away in the primordial disaster which had shaped Balos and in the new arid climate never replaced. That vast plain was where Earth Force had chosen to break out, and where the Dilgar met them.

Francis could see virtually to the horizon, a bluish haze marking the place land and sky collided. While generally flat to his eye the plain held many folds of land and croppings of rock, features that had been occupied and prepared by the Dilgar defenders, transformed into strong points as part of a complicated defence in depth strategy aimed at slowing down and wearing away the human soldiers forcing their way through.

Francis didn't pretend to really understand the tactics and strategy, but fortunately his Balosian companion seemed to know what was happening and required only generic information from Francis to fill in the scene.

"Francis?" The Balosian spoke in a rasp, emphasising the 's' at the end of his name. "What are those called?"

He followed the Balosians line of sight up to a pair of fast moving specks diving to the ground far in the distance. The specks pulled up at the last moment, even at this far distance the roar of their engines clearly audible as the seeded fire on the ground beneath them. A slight crump reached their elevated position some seconds later as the sound of the explosions finally reached them.

"They're Banshees Major, our main strike fighter."

"What does the word mean?"

"It is a legend, from my own region of Earth in fact." Francis answered. "A Banshee was a tortured spirit, an omen of bad tidings. To see or hear one was supposed to signal extreme bad luck or death in the near future."

The Balosian laughed. "The Dilgar will know this legend now!"

"Have to hand it to them, the military has a way of picking the right name for its weapons."

While scary to look at Francis was coming to find the Balosian good company, he had a devilish sense of humour and seemed a genuinely well meaning and gentle creature. They had shared a number of jokes and listened appreciatively to each others stories. It was hard to believe this very civilized sounding creature was personally responsible for two hundred enemy kills.

Major Strylek was a senior member of the Balosian resistance and like most of his peers had served in the Balosian version of the special forces. From their reputation and the briefings Francis had heard the Balosians were as good as Earth Force in terms of their training and dedication in ground battles, and Strylek radiated professional confidence and understanding as he watched the battle unfold. The Balosians were currently gathering together former soldiers to piece together a field army again to join the allies in liberating their homeworld, something warmly welcomed by Earth Force. For his part Francis wa smore interested in the wealth of intelligence the Balosian underground had come up with on Dilgar positions and strength.

He spotted a large moving dust cloud and raised his binoculars to check the source.

"If you look down there Major you'll see the first wave of the attack itself."

The Balosian changed the focus of his attention and gave an appreciative grin. "Your race doesn't do things small does it?"

Across the plain a huge wall of armoured vehicles raced forward, tiny ants from where Francis stood stretching for literally miles across the desert, the dust kicked up by their tracks looking like a fast moving desert storm chasing them towards the Dilgar.

"According to the General you are looking at six full divisions, half of them armoured." Francis offered a commentary, feeling like some sort of Sports newscaster. "About five thousand heavy tanks and fifty thousand mechanised soldiers following on."

The Dilgar positions began blooming with silent puffs of smoke, hundreds of little mushrooms growing where Earth Force artillery began hitting the ground with a dull crackle. Rocket batteries added their weight, screeching through the sky on a trail of white smoke before angling down and peppering the enemy with a variety of explosive devices.

"Air power, artillery, tanks and infantry." Strylek noted. "Excellent coordination, my compliments to your people."

"Appreciated." Francis noted. "While this is going on the Brakiri are sending airborne soldiers around the left of the Dilgar flank, beyond the horizon over there." Francis gestured. "While the Markab Crusade is attacking on the other side of the opposite horizon."

"Markab." Strylek repeated "I did not think they were much for fighting."

"Normally they aren't, very spiritual." Francis agreed. "You look at their history and it's amazing how few wars they've actually fought among themselves. But the Dilgar pushed them too far. Now they're the most fanatical and fearless soldiers we have. And the most merciless."

"That is what a real war does to people." Strylek considered. "It can turn you into what you are fighting."

"I can't imagine anyone being as ruthless as the Dilgar."

"You haven't seen an occupation." The Balosian said. "If you had witnessed some of the things my people did to captured Dilgar, it might make you think twice."

Some further activity caught Strylek's eye on the plain. "The Dilgar are moving."

Francis spotted it too, raising his own binoculars to investigate. "Dilgar tanks."

"Not quite, tank hunters." Strylek pointed out. "See how they are light vehicles with a large gun added? Not real tanks, they will die fast in open battle but can hurt your people first. Clearly a vehicle born of desperation, they need to try and fight your armour but don't have time to develop their own tanks."

Francis frowned, noting the reversal of roles as Strylek took over the explanations. "Why are they attacking?"

"A bad move, they should be in cover acting like fixed anti tank guns." The Major said. "They're going to get massacred."

The two sides began firing at each other, long guns jetting flame and smoke as Earth and Dilgar forces engaged. The Dilgar vehicles were fast and agile but couldn't drive faster than a Thor tank could rotate its turret. Francis saw a few Earth tanks explode as the Dilgar scored hits, grimacing as one cooked off in a giant fireball. But for each lost human vehicle a dozen flaming Dilgar wrecks scattered the battlefield, smashed by old fashioned chemically propelled tank rounds.

Valkyrie gunships swarmed over and added their power, firing missiles and plasma cannons into the growing miasma of dust and sand that grew to obscure the battlefield. The cloud had no affect on the battle, both sides having imaging systems able to see through the smoke and dust and keep fighting, but for Francis it was now nothing more than a swirling brown blob with hints of rising black smoke, occasional flashes and deep rumbles of thunder.

"Quite a display." Strylek stated with approval.

"That's only a tenth of the troops we have." Francis informed. "We have enough people and supplies to go right to the Dilgar capital without stopping."

"We are ready to join the fighting." Strylek continued. "With the tunnel system we can outflank any Dilgar position and attack from different directions. A lot of tunnels are big enough to drive tanks through."

"If you are ready General Biek would like to speak with you about that, now you know what Earth Force can do."

"Yes, now is a good time." Strylek nodded. "Thank you for showing me this."

"You don't need to thank me."

"But I do none the less." Strylek said solemnly. "For more than two years we have not seen any hope. Now I have seen with my own eyes a Dilgar army getting beaten on open ground fighting a conventional battle. Something said to be impossible. You cannot understand what this truly means to me, and so you have my thanks."

They began their walk back down to the command post, leaving Francis feeling oddly small in the face of how momentous events actually were. It gave him a bit more understanding into what was happening here, a glimpse at the larger picture. It was both humbling and deeply satisfying to have played a role in how it was unfolding.

Battlecruiser Vendetta

Dilgar grand Fleet

July 11th, 2232

The window was fairly pointless on a warship, it was a weak spot on an otherwise hardened hull. True this particular one was more a bubble attached to the bow of the ship accessible through a winding entry way that served as a reasonable barrier, but Jha'dur still disliked it. One more complaint about the Sekhmet design.

It did not however stop her from spending time in the half sphere of armoured glass, seated on a platform in the middle with amazing views on all sides. Right now she was looking into hyperspace, the ghostly curls of vortexes and tides, the red and black mists of energised particles and rents in the very nature of space. A deathly realm.

"Warmaster?"

"Step forward Captain." Jha'dur did not move in her seat, letting the red light flow around the chamber casting everything in blood.

An'jash was taken aback by the view, like travelling through hyperspace without a ship. She experienced a brief moment of wonder before settling back into the real world.

"Warmaster, we are almost in position."

"Very good Captain, jamming status?"

"We're blocking all scans and communications. It is almost certain the ships at Balos know we are coming, but we doubt they know our strength."

"Earth Command will know soon enough." Jha'dur commented. "In fact, I want them to."

"Warmaster?"

"This plan relies on forcing Hamato to come and fight us, so he has to know where our fleet is so he can come and offer battle. I realise this goes against most of what I have taught you Captain, that we are sacrificing the initiative and our strategic mobility, but it will be worth it."

"Do you think he will attack knowing the odds?"

"He'll attack, especially if he knows the odds." Jha'dur smiled. "I know he will."

An'jash nodded her white head. "We also have final reports on the garrison fleet. No survivors."

Jha'dur took the news with a curt nod and grunt. "As expected."

"Eleven hundred ships Warmaster."

"Sacrificed to give us a chance at total victory Captain." Jha'dur pointed out. "Hamato was willing to risk a fleet to draw us into Balos, I was willing to kill a thousand of my own to make him believe he had won. We must always take that next step, no matter the cost. We must be everything Earth Force is and then more, that is how we win."

"Yes Warmaster."

"And yes Captain, that includes sending twelve year olds into war."

An'jash huffed a little. "As you say Warmaster."

"We have served together too long, I can sense your disapproval half a ship away."

"I admit the youth of the new Cadets did… disturb me a little."

"I noticed. But this is not the old days. Back then a strong arm made a good soldier, now all you need is the ability to push a button without breaking down. Computers do all the fighting, we just need to direct them. Even a child can do that."

"Looks like we're going to be testing that theory Warmaster."

"Children make the best soldiers. They don't question, they have an under developed conscious, they are capable of total cruelty and detachment. Give them access to heavy firepower and they will slaughter opponents without question."

"And go to their deaths without a tear?"

"Death in space is too fast to notice." Jha'dur dismissed. "They don't have time to be terrified."

"Unless they are trapped in a burning ship with the blood of their friends all around them."

"Won't happen." Jha'dur said coolly. "With the weak ships they'll be crewing and the firepower of even small human ships, even glancing shots will be deadly. Numbers are our advantage, not endurance."

"So we send them to their deaths." An'jash stated.

"We've been doing that for years." The Warmaster replied. "After a while I find it no longer shakes me like it used to."

"I suppose that is what it takes to be a Warmaster."

"What it takes to be me at least." Jha'dur countered. "Warmasters of the future will be different, more even handed. Not like me."

"I had heard you plan to step down after the war."

"I will. My presence will overshadow the rebuilding of our race. I did what was necessary, but it does not help to remind everyone of it continuously. It will be a new age led by new faces. I have served my people, the gods know I have served them at the cost of nearly everything I have."

An'jash nodded. "I just can't belief we've been reduced to this."

"To making children fight? They volunteered, and they passed qualification."

"Volunteered because they have been raised on a lifetime of xenophobia." The Captain countered. "Nothing but ultra nationalism everywhere they look. Is it any wonder?"

"No, no it is not a surprise to me."

"We turned two whole generations of our world into cold blooded killers, even children. I can't tell you how much that chills me."

"Because you still care Captain, you, Ari, a few more. You think for yourselves, you ask questions. It is a gift Captain, inconvenient for war maybe, but vital for the future. People like you are the new Imperium."

Jha'dur watched hyperspace.

"And people like me are the old Imperium." She continued. "Our time is almost done, just this one more battle. A final slaughter to appease the gods and release us from our fealty."

"I'm not sure I follow Warmaster?"

"Nothing Captain, just something I was thinking about before you arrived. An old story about the gods, how they would chose a mortal to torment for pleasure."

"I never really looked deep into legends Warmaster."

"Nor I, but it is worth wondering what truth there is in these stories. The gods manipulated the fates of our ancestors in ways they could not comprehend. They set plans in motion, put people on paths that shaped societies for generations, even down to today."

"But just stories Warmaster."

"Maybe. But before I sealed Salasine in his tomb he told me we did not control our fate, that we were being manipulated from afar by powers so far beyond us they might as well be gods. Can't help but make you think Captain."

"Do you believe they have the power to tamper with our sun?"

"Anything is possible." Jha'dur replied. "I found that myself."

"Then what do we do?" An'jash asked. "Can we reverse it?"

"No, I don't think so. At this point I don't think anything can stop the fate of our sun. We don't have that sort of power, but one day we will. On that day we will show those who pretend to be gods the true definition of power."

"I thought the New Imperium was going to be different from the Old one?"

"It will be, but we cannot weaken ourselves in arms or spirit. We don't have to conquer, but we do have to hold on to what we have taken."

"The war never ends."

"Never."

"Just a question of finding someone to fight it."

Jha'dur nodded. "That at least should be simple enough. Our manpower reserves are stretched to breaking point, almost our whole population is working in the war industry as soldiers or manufacturers. These ships and the technology they incorporate are the future. Advanced, powerful and best of all automated. Far better than our old ships and requiring a quarter of the crew."

"All we have to do is beat the most powerful fighting force in the galaxy." An'jash pointed out.

Jha'dur chuckled. "There might be more dangers out there other than Earth. But I suppose they have the best balance. The Narn are powerful but too rash, the Centauri are ferocious but it is rare to find a commander fit enough to get the best from them. Earth at least can match powerful ships with skilled leaders and crew. Just like us. Nemesis."

"Warmaster?"

"A human word. Nemesis was a goddess in one of their religions, she personified divine retribution. Inescapable, inevitable. You couldn't reason with her, couldn't plead or beg. When you met Nemesis you paid for all your sins and abandoned all hope."

"Sounds like something we would have."

"She was supposed to the equal and opposite of her victims, able to match them word for word, blow for blow, strike for strike. Just like the humans and us, we are so similar in so many ways it sometimes makes me shiver."

"I know the feeling."

"Earth seems to have a soft spot for figures of retribution. Nemesis, Furies, Tisiphone, Erinyes, all of them still prevalent in human culture. They still call ships and warmachines after them."

Jha'dur grinned a little.

"We're being hunted by the Furies of Nemesis. I think the humans meant this as a joke. Of course we probably deserve it."

"With respect Warmaster, the time…"

"Yes Captain, I know. Return to the bridge, I will be along shortly."

"As you order."

An'jash saluted professionally and then withdrew, leaving Jha'dur staring into hyperspace. Unlike most she found it fascinating rather than queasy, a realm of ever changing lights and patterns with never the same view twice.

She reached to her neck and removed the locket that never left her person, the simple gold clasp that was almost the last thing she had that mattered to her. With reverence she held it in her hand for a long time just looking at it, watching the way the polished surface played with the red light of the eternity beyond.

"What do you think will happen next?" She asked the fates. "Do we win? Do I lead my people to salvation? Do we achieve what we set out to achieve and live forever?"

The red sky did not reveal its answers.

"Or do we fail and fade? Wiped out by League heavy weapons or blasted with stellar radiation? Do I give me people false hope? Is this our greatest moment or a last hurrah before eternity?"

She wasn't expecting a voice to answer, no thunderous words from upon high or flash of light revealing a vision. She wasn't even sure why she needed to say these words out loud. It seemed pointless, yet maybe it wasn't. She was declaring herself to the universe, faults, failings and all.

"Does it even matter anymore?"

She shook her head slowly and raised her eyes, looking at nothing and everything.

"What is left for me to save? A world that is fickle and forgetful, that cared nothing for me when I was alone and not useful to society? What do I have that is worth fighting for, hell, what's worth living for anymore?"

Her eyes returned to the locket.

"My blood is gone, my love is gone, what little remains hangs by a thread. All this fighting, all this war, why did I do it? What was I trying to do?"

She opened the small item of jewellery, gazing fondly on the twin images inside of her parents, at once warm and soothing but also stern.

"Is this how you saw my future?" She asked them. "Is this where my life was to lead? Would you have supported and encouraged me, pushed me into uniform and proudly waved my farewell as I slaughtered billions?"

the images remained as still as they had for decades.

"Perhaps you are watching me in tears. Perhaps you are appalled at me and what I have done. Perhaps you are nothing anymore, just dead and buried under the ice and snow of our province."

Silently she let go with a deep sigh.

"I can't even remember your wishes anymore. I don't know what you wanted of me. I have lived as best I could. I have tried to preserve what I loved and I have failed. Everything you left behind for me is gone and forgotten, I can't follow in your footsteps because they vanished too. "

Carefully and with reverence she closed the locket again, sealing it shut and closing her hand tightly around it.

"Whatever you may think I have tried to be the child you would have wanted, but I am not the person I wanted. I am Deathwalker."

She replaced the locket back around her neck, fastening her top button and adjusting her jacket to perfection. She stood tall and proud, a warrior in body and spirit.

"Doubt is for failures. What I have done is now done, hell take me or not I can't go back now. I can only go on. I'm damned either way, so why not be damned for something worth while."

She exhaled, clearing away the last of her uncertainty and emotion.

"Let the devil take me if he will, but he'll have a long wait. I intend to fill hell to bursting by the time this battle is done." She smiled. "Perhaps hell doesn't need the competition I'd bring."

She stepped up to the command chair bristling with confidence and certainty, projecting an aura of pure and absolute faith. With a jaunt she dropped into the chair and settled herself.

"Is this the chair from my old flagship?"

An'jash smiled. "I was thinking you hadn't noticed Warmaster."

"I have had much on my mind." She rocked back and forth. "Your work?"

"They were trying to install some sort of seat which shapes to your body. I ordered it put in storage and had this transferred instead."

Jha'dur chuckled. "I lost count of how many battles I ran from this chair. Great victories, great days."

"Days which will come again."

"We will see Captain, we're the ones to decide it."

She rested her arms on the sides of the chair, the communication controls still at her finger tips. It was a piece of comfort on a difficult day.

"This was a thoughtful action Captain."

"It seemed fitting Warmaster." An'jash replied solemnly. "That you command this battle from the same place you commanded the others."

"It means a lot. You have my thanks Captain. I will not forget."

An'jash nodded respectfully. "I stand by your side Warmaster."

"And that Captain is a reassuring thought." Jha'dur nodded. "Once more?"

"Once more my Warmaster."

She smiled, the old exhiliration of a battle yet to be decided returning to her. Something she hadn't felt in a long, long time.

"Signal all ships to move up to attack speed. Once we jump we need to close with the human ships rapidly."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Deploy scout ship, find us our jump co-ordinates. Give them my personal gratitude for volunteering."

"I will Warmaster."

"Everything we have done, all our battles and sacrifices, they were just practice for today. Just tests. Now we witness our true reason for being and our ultimate task as warriors. Earth and Omelos. One of those worlds is home to the best soldiers in the galaxy, the other to the second best. Time to decide which one is which."

EAS Zhukov

Flagship, Fourth Fleet

07:23 EST

The warship was dimly lit, just a few running lights marking its position for formation spacing and as a warning to civilian ships that something big and solid was looming in the vicinity. Before the war human ships had illuminated themselves garishly, painted in white and blue proudly declaring their allegiance and origin. But now the fleet was more muted, toned down grey hulls and the bare minimum of lighting. They looked sullen, grimy and lifeless compared to the memory of the bright pre-war fleet, but it was welcomed by the crews as one more level of obscurity. The brightly painted ships tended to gather most attention, and in war that was rarely a good thing.

The Nova Dreadnoughts had never been especially bright, not being designed for the same show the flag missions as the cruisers and explorers. They didn't need to be noticed by aliens or civilians, they just needed to lurk behind the borders and occasionally intimidate patrols that came too close to Earth Space. The war built ships were even darker, a flat slate grey optimised for low observability. Earth had resisted going completely black, tests had shown dark grey was the best optimisation and so it had been adopted almost universally to the mild amusement of several alien races. Nobody laughed at them now.

The Dreadnought Zhukov was no exception. It ran without illumination most of the time, keeping just its warning lights glowing from extremities. It's name and flanks remained dark and hidden from scrutiny while its hangar was dark, only lighting up to deploy or receive visitors. Sometimes more of the ship would be glimpsed, reflecting the glow of a passing engine or framed in some distant sunlight. Mostly though it passed through the void like a ghost ship, a fleet of silent and sombre warmachines standing like cold sentinels above the newly freed system.

General Benton acknowledged the new duty officer, nodding as he presented himself.

"Sir, Gold Watch reporting all systems ready and able."

"Very good Commander." Benton replied. "How are things?"

"Fleet remains at second degree readiness General, no enemy contacts." The Day Watch duty officer provided. "The ground offensive has begun and is making progress, resistance is heavy but within expectation."

"What traffic do we expect today?"

"Schedule shows a belt Alliance convoy this evening, and the First Airborne Corps is already here and beginning to transfer to the planet."

"Make sure they have a fighter escort." Benton said. "Just to be safe."

"Yes sir." Agreed the Commander. "Finally we sent four squadrons into hyperspace to scout the area, they found nothing but we're still waiting for one to come back."

"They're overdue?"

"Yes sir, by fifteen minutes."

That rang a little bell of concern with the General. "How much fuel do they have?"

"Another three hours."

"Can we raise them on the radio?"

"No sir, Dilgar jamming is still hindering out of system comms traffic, we haven't been able to spot their ships yet."

"Might be ground installations on a moon or asteroid doing the jamming. Schedule more recon flights for today."

"Yes sir, we do have a link to Atlantis station, but it needs us to overload an ELINT ship to do it, our fighters can't receive signals of that magnitude."

"At least we can talk to command." Benton stated. "Give them another fifteen minutes, then send in another patrol to find them, a warship."

"Yes sir."

"They might have found a Dilgar jammer off the beacon, lets hope they didn't get lost out there."

"Definitely sir."

"Very well Commander, I'll be in my quarters. You have the bridge."

He turned himself on the roof rails and hauled himself with some elegance towards the hatch. He was almost out when a proximity warning caught his ear.

"What is that, read it out Lieutenant."

"Unscheduled Jump point, less than fifteen thousand klicks distant sir."

"Any transponder?"

"No sir."

The Commander frowned. "A League ship? Rogue freighter?"

Benton shook his head. "Get me a scan, go active on sensors." He ordered. "Sound action stations, condition one, prep squadrons for cold launch."

Warning klaxons began a rhythmic tone rousing the recently retired night watch back to duty and calling in the Afternoon watch from their period of exercise and relaxation. The corridors filled with crew bustling back and forth hastily pulling on uniforms and activating their duty stations.

"If it is a lost League freighter, this is just a good bit of practice." Benton spoke, waiting for the report. "If it isn't…"

"Target match, Dilgar heavy cruiser!" The sensor officer warned. "Targath class!"

"Fire up the main batteries, bring engines online and position to fire!" The Commander called. "Fire when the lights come on!"

"Must be a scout." Benton surmised as the weapon status board turned from yellow standby to an active green. "They picked the wrong place to jump into."

The Targath was a workhorse cruiser, an effective combatant but not really exceptional, the Zhukov could quite happily take three or four of them simultaneously, this one ship was horribly outclassed. Yet it did not try to escape or even engage.

"What is she waiting for?" Benton asked himself.

"Batteries ready, snap shot!" The Commander barked. "Open fire!"

"Sir, high power transmission from Dilgar cruiser!"

"Isolate it!" Benton called.

As he did so the forward guns flashed into life, spearing the Dilgar ship with eight laser beams at close range. It collapsed in on itself in a circlet of flame.

"Too late, we lost the source."

"What did he say?" Benton asked. "Did we record any of it for the code breaker on the planet?"

"We have a record, we can…" The officer tailed off. "General, sensors registering multiple disturbances, jump points."

Benton grunted. "Guess we know the message."

Reality was ripped to pieces by the sudden eruption of hyperspace vortexes into its midst, perforating the sky with bright blue light that seemed entirely unnatural and out of place in the quite empty black. The jump points were not surprising at first, Benton had been expecting them ever since he arrived. There were still enemy ships out there and it was inevitable they would counter attack. He was ready for it and expected to be facing around a thousand prime Dilgar ships before the week was out. He had no idea exactly how large the true Dilgar reserves were.

Over a thousand jump points opened up, each one disgorging a task force of green and red ships. The whole of the system seemed to suddenly fill with Dilgar ships, sensor contact after sensor contact filling the screens and causing a slight slow down of the computers as the Earth Flagship worked to process the massive wall of data flooding its way.

It was a breathtaking scene, the Dilgar fleet emerged in a single giant wave, taking formation perfectly and finding itself arrayed for attack within thirty seconds of arriving, an impressive piece of coordination by any measure. They knew their only respected enemy was watching, and they knew their greatest Warmaster was judging their performance, and as such the deployment was flawless even among the majority green crews that made most of the fleet.

For a long moment General Benton could do nothing but watch in a mix of horror and awe, he had never seen this many ships before, no one alive had, it was a staggering view of the power of a world dedicated to total war.

"How the hell did we miss those?" Whispered the Commander beside him.

"General, sensors show over seven thousand hostiles and rising. They're coming in fast and primed for action."

"We've got less than eleven hundred ships to meet them." Reminded the Commander. "What do we do?"

Benton needed to make a decision and fast, probably the biggest choice of his life. Did he stand or did he flee? No one could blame him for running, even the might of a Dreadnought couldn't stop those odds, and preserving his fleet was a major part of his job. The war had taken a very, very surprising turn for the worst. His next words could decide the entire fate of the conflict and untold lives.

"Launch fighters."

"Aye sir, orders on the way."

"Form all ships for action, we'll meet them head on." Benton commanded with steel in his voice. "Get Hernandez to break orbit and get out here, we'll need every gun to thin them out."

"On it."

"We need to hold them here." Benton determined. "We have hundreds of thousands of people on the planet and we cannot let this fleet get into orbit, if it does they're all dead and the war is over. Whatever happens to us we have to hold this line until the rest of the fleet can show up to reinforce us."

He gave his crew a quick and prideful glance, scanning his eyes left to right.

"This is the Fourth Fleet, we've been in this since day one. They think they're just going to break through us? They have no idea who they are fighting! Every ship we kill improves the odds for Admiral Hamato and the rest of our fleets. It's time to do our part to win this war, whether we see the last day or not. This is what it means to serve our people. All ships, all guns, weapons free, engage at will. We don't give them inch."

Balos

First Army Command post.

"This whole operation is very compact, very decentralised." Francis explained to Major Stylek as they stepped into the mobile command vehicle. "This means that if this place is hit other similar stations can easily take over. Any staff officer can run the whole battle from his or her local command post."

"So the Dilgar cannot decapitate your command structure." Strylek approved.

"Not without a massive wide reaching strike."

Within the doorway Francis stooped to pet a well built Alsation, the dog responding well to the attention and examining Strylek with intense curiosity.

"This is Max." Francis smiled. "Our guard dog, best way we have to pick up infiltrators."

Strylek nodded. "Very interesting."

"Works too, I've seen it up close." He related with an edge to his voice. "Saved a lot of lives, you know our Agency uses a guard dog as its symbol? Vigilant, Loyal, Fierce, and packs a sharp set of teeth."

"Sounds very fitting." The Balosian concurred.

They walked to the rear of the vehicle to where General Biek was waiting.

"Major, I offer the greeting of the Earth Force General Staff."

"And I welcome you on behalf of the Balosian army, hopefully we'll have some Generals soon to speak with you. Most are on the other side of the planet."

"I look forward to it." Biek smiled thinly. "Agent O'Leary, we're having some comms trouble, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course sir."

Francis sat down and began to run a quick check on the system while Biek took over the briefing.

"So Major, right now we're forcing through here." He showed on the map. "With Brakiri airborne landings here and here, our next step…"

"Sir, sorry to interrupt." Francis raised. "Our comms are fine, we just experienced some massive jamming. I can't raise anyone off planet."

"Source of the jamming?"

"Something in space, I'm not getting anything, no signals or… wait, got a signal, very strong." He frowned. "A disaster beacon."

"What is that?" Strylek asked.

"It's an emergency pod, very powerful transmitter so it can send a distress signal. This one is from the EAS Vicksburg, a cruiser."

"Why drop a beacon when in the middle of a fleet?" Biek asked. "What disaster could have happened?"

"Could be an accidental drop or… no, there's another, and another… hell, six more just showed up!"

"Get through this jamming at once!" Biek ordered. "In fact, I'll order a shuttle to go up and take a look, we need to know what is going on up there."

"If it's a Dilgar attack, we do have the defence grid…"Francis began.

"It covers the plateau, but right now I have a hundred thousand troops outside fighting the Dilgar beyond its cover. I need to know if we press on or fall back."

"Understood sir."

"I need answers Mr O'Leary." Biek stated sharply. "We need to know what the hell just happened."

The Cruiser Vicksburg tumbled end over end, most of its surface tattered and glowing as it fell out of line. The ship left a cloud of ice behind it, the glittering remnants of the vessels fresh water tanks holed by enemy gunfire. It was a beautiful and heartrending contrast, fire and ice vanishing into the night.

Fourth fleet slammed into the Dilgar with massive force, delivering the maximum weight of fire and melting all opposition before it, cutting its way past the front line and mingling with the husks of wrecked Dilgar warships. It did not matter much to the Dilgar, the frontage of the Earth fleet was to small to engage more than a fraction of the total Dilgar numbers and most ships didn't even get a chance to shoot back in the initial exchange. Jha'dur had brought her ships up to combat speed while in hyperspace, a risky strategy but one which meant the fleet carried their momentum with them into real space and could close the gap with Earth Force very rapidly. It denied Benton the chance to match guns with a block of Dilgar ships and do the maximum damage, instead he was now surrounded and about to come under attack on all sides.

"Enemy fleet decelerating and collapsing down on us!" The Sensor officer shouted.

"Come about!" Benton called in response. "Keep our ships together, set up a defensive sphere and let them come!"

The Earth fleet adjusted course, cutting its already unimpressive speed and simply floating along. The various ships began to change orientation, altering from a uniform wall with their firepower focused ahead into a floating sphere focusing in every direction. It was a defensive posture, it split their fire and ceded initiative to the Dilgar but it also made them impossible to flank and covered their weaknesses.

They had been outmanoeuvred before the fight had begun, Jha'dur was dictating the range and direction of the battle and Benton's fleet was too small and too slow to change that. He had to play to his strengths, the endurance and firepower of his warships as individuals and hope it made a difference.

"Control the battle space Captain, hold the ships in formation."

Jha'dur watched with eagle eyed sharpness as the nature of the fighting ebbed and flowed, changing shape and course like a stream running down a mountain. Earth Force was a consummate fighting force trained to adapt to an opponent and exploit their weaknesses. To beat them Jha'dur had to be just as flexible, she had to be unpredictable and adaptable herself, she had to thrown unexpected attacks and new tactics at the humans, deployments she was literally inventing on the spur of the moment and implementing at once.

"I need battle squadrons ten to thirty on the move, circle the humans and pour fire on."

"Yes Warmaster. "Answered An'jash.

"Spiral pattern, conduct at high speed and high ECM. Their job is to keep Earth focused on them and engaging. Squadrons Forty to Fifty will pull out of the line and form for a full scale attack."

If Jha'dur used the same tactics, the same deployments then Earth Force would quickly pick out patterns and adapt to beat them, causing heavy losses that she didn't want lose without necessity. He rproblem was that as a rule her crews were bred to follow orders and not do much thinking for themselves. There were exceptions of course, but mostly her ships did not have initiative to out think a Human commander which meant Jha'dur had to do it all herself. It was an intense display of micro management, with so many ships and such a formidable enemy it was pushing Jha'dur's skills right to the limit.

"The Second Human force is on its way Warmaster."

"Squadrons Thirty One to Thirty Nine, deploy in line formation and delay them. Fleeting engagement, don't press the attack, just stall them."

"Multiple enemy squadrons on the way."

"Our fighters can handle it, hold to current orders."

Her eyes glinted with reflected computer displays, never dwelling on the same screen for more than a few seconds.

"Tighten the left flank, and get our strike force moving faster. Time is a priority."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Quick and clean Captain, don't lose focus." Jha'dur stated flatly. "Release fighters and standby to coordinate the direct attack."

"Dagger Squadron on alert." Ari'shan delivered his orders. "We've been unleashed, follow me up to full throttle, we'll drop these dead weights under the wings and go find ourselves a challenge worthy of our time." He looked beyond the window at the developing battle. "I don't think we're going to be disappointed."

He rolled the nose of the black and red fighter, the stars twisting until the canvas of battle filled his view. It was a magnificent sight, a small knot of human ships held the centre of the view spitting fire in all directions. A constant stream of Dilgar ships spiralled around them returning the compliment, burning hulls and damaged ships marking victories for both sides as the ranges decreased and the fighting became even more vicious.

The squadron was helming a dozen prototype Thorun MKIII dart fighters, built as a result of the war they sacrificed speed for agility. An average pilot could out turn a Tiger Fury while an ace like those within Dagger Squadron could realistically take on a Nova Fury without it becoming a suicide mission. The new fighters were also tougher and packed more firepower than their predecessors to further level the field against the human Starfuries and despite being a rushed solution were lethal little craft. A respectable number were in service but most pilots still flew the older MkII fighter, with some reserve units labouring with pre-war MkI's.

"I'm designating a target." Ari advised. "Earth Force cruiser, Daggers two to four deal with the escort, the rest of you follow me."

The fighters peeled away, swooping into the battle and emerging themselves in the hot shower of energy weapons and rail guns. They crossed between the groups, witnessing first hand a snippet of the larger action. Ari dove under one of his allied warships, its side emptied out in a shower of tiny fragments as a rail gun literally shattered its brittle hull like glass, a consequence of sub standard metal used in the rushed production. A burning fighter spun past falling to nowhere amid the shattered pieces of starships tangling the spaceways, from consoles to full sized plasma turrets and engine decks.

"We go in from the underside, stay clear of the rail guns on the escort." Ari warned. "They have cluster shot for use against missile attacks."

The curved around another row of Dilgar ships, several of them burning fiercely with multicoloured flames but still fighting hard against an Earth Force cruiser group. One of those ships was Ari's target.

"We're in with the Earth Fleet now, pick up your visuals, there is a lot of ECM and debris, don't rely on sensors."

To their side more Dilgar fighters cruised past, leading away and advancing in multiple directions. In the distance he spotted some Starfuries taking on three times their number of Thoruns. He told himself to stay focused, get his first job done and then look for enemy fighters.

"Alright Car'nal, go ahead and engage."

He watched the fighters on his left pull away, engines blazing with purple ions as they lined up on their targets still tiny in the distance. Ari'shan did not particularly enjoy attacking warships, it was a challenge but more of a test of timing than prowess and courage. Taking on a ship armed with military grade interceptors was certainly a hair raising experience and valuable to the course of the battle, but it wasn't single combat and as such a waste of Ari's talents.

Still, he had a pair of nukes under his wings that would impede his dogfighting performance and he needed to get rid of them. It might as well be into the side of an enemy ship.

"Arm missiles." He ordered, flicking the safety switches on his own ordnance. "Set for delayed detonation, we want them to go off inside the hull, not on the outside."

Some blue twinkles told him the enemy had spotted them, lights which grew into full sized interceptor bolts that flared space around him.

"Pick up your evasive turns, keep it random!"

The defensive fire fell like snow around him as he rose toward the ship, it's lower guns strafing the squadron while the bigger bow batteries were busy dismantling a green hued battlecruiser. Beside and below it was a bulky corvette adding its own formidable anti fighter systems to the barrage.

"Dagger Eleven, Dagger Twelve, go for the fuel tanks at the rear of the ship." Ari ordered. "Remaining craft target hull braces and structural supports, crack and burn."

The first of his squadron reached firing range of the Corvette, they held a second longer to guarantee the hit and then launched before turning hard out of the way. They crossed in front of Ari's path, whizzing a few hundred feet in front of him in an exquisite realisation of timing and placement before flying away and clearing the view between Ari and the cruiser.

The Corvette bulged as the tactical nukes exploded, warping and bubbling the hull into a caricature of the ship itself before finally overcoming it in tongues of fire. The ship radiated light like a star for several moments, the blast of radiation and electro magnetism confounding the cruisers sensors for a short time during the critical final approach of Ari's unit. By the time the guns could track again it was too late.

The massive Earth Force Warship was punched by nuclear missiles, the first to detonate being the ones at the back of the ship near the engines. They triggered the fuel stores in a bright flash of exploding gas and liquid that ran over the ship and chased the fleeing Thoruns. Ari was the last to make his run, following his unit as they proceeded ahead of him and fired into the long connecting hull member between the main hull and the reactor assembly. The missiles struck where the ships hangar bay was, burying themselves in the metal and initiating a brief count down, time enough for Ari to shoot and get clear.

He spotted his own missiles impact with a shower of silver, flying through their smoke trails and nearly clipping the hull of the heavy cruiser. He avoided the fireball engulfing the stern and accelerated hard as the second set of nukes went off.

The detonations broke the back of the cruiser, annihilating the hangar deck and cutting the thick structural supports holding the front of the ship to its reactor and engines. The two halves of the ship moved apart slowly, losing power and going silent as the battle ignored them and moved on to more dangerous foes.

"Good work Daggers, who says you can't teach an old cat new tricks?"

They fell back into combat formation and continued up into the Earth fleet, the intense fighting burning around them.

"Dagger three here, I've got Furies sighted!"

"Nova class?"

"Yes sir."

"That's more like it, turn to engage." He twisted the controls, greatly pleased by the responsiveness of his new craft. "Give them the honour of firing first, then attack at will. This is a great day!"

Balosian Cruiser Seffensa

"This is the worst day on record."

Nobody contradicted him, even without military training Paul could spot an unfolding disaster when he saw one right before his eyes.

"Fourth fleet is surrounded." Jenny said in a toneless report. "Seventh fleet is trying to break through but is meeting heavy resistance."

That was putting it mildly, as far as Paul could see the two human fleets were surrounded by explosions and taking heavy damage.

"Are the Dilgar moving on the planet?" Commander Kanos enquired.

"Not yet, they're focused on the Earth Force ships." Jenny said. "But once they finish…"

"I understand." Kanos said coldly. "The Dilgar have proven once again why they cannot be allowed to live in this universe. Death is he only measure for them. We will do our part in delivering it."

"There is a lot of comms traffic, but I can't get through to the planet." Jenny said. "Blanket jamming, we'd have to be in orbit to raise them."

"It can wait." Kanos said. "If you two wish to leave, now is the time."

"Not a chance." Paul said. We signed on as crew, we're ready."

"Orders sir?" Jenny asked formally.

Kanos smiled widely. "You have my respect and gratitude my friends. Signal all ships to form on us, we will attack between the two human fleets and try to weaken the barrier between them."

"Copying to fleet."

"This second invasion of our space is an insult to all Balosians." Kanos snarled angrily. "This time we are ready to meet them. We attack, all fighters break and engage at will. Forward guns fire!"

The Balosian fleet raced to add its weight to the battle, a small fleet but spirited and focused. They closed in on the Dilgar with all guns blazing, claiming several vessels other wise distracted by Earth Force.

"Avoid the arcs of the human ships." Kanos warned.

Seventh fleet was advancing behind a carpet of gunfire, their way masked in exploding Dilgar ships and clouds of gas and metal. Many of the shots missed and made the area ahead of the fleet a very dangerous place to be no matter your allegiance and forced the Balosians to circle over the main path of fighting.

"I think they noticed us." Paul warned. "Enemy cruisers vectoring in."

"Move to attack!" Kanos decided. "Full speed, no mercy!"

with a sharp kink the Balosians turned under full power, a flood of ions raging from their drives, Dilgar fire caught one of their frigates in a brief blaze as they did so, the small ship flying apart in short order. The Dilgar cruisers now facing them were considerably larger and nastier than the ones from the initial battle and offered speedy and accurate barrages in the face of the attack.

"The Malaras is taking hits, she's losing control!"

Kanos grimaced, watching one of the rare cruisers of his force succumb to her wounds in a silent release of yellow light. Only eight heavy cruisers had made it to freedom, and at this point just four were now left.

The Balosians dived through the formation at flank speed, smashing massive holes through their opponents. Dilgar ships crumpled or exploded, falling lifeless on their perpetual journey into empty space to join countless others. Some recovered, shot through and glowing hot with fire but still mobile and pressed their attack on the Balosian forces with venom.

"We just lost a destroyer!" Paul warned. "Make that two!"

"They're stripping away our escorts!" Jenny realised.

"Break left, flank speed!" Kanos cried. "Shoot at whatever you see!"

The big ships flung themselves around like toys, crossing through the centre of a large Dilgar formation with disciplined rows of ships on all sides. They fired in all directions, finding enemies on all sides as they pelted through space. They were a stark contrast, the new and gleaming Dilgar ships matched against the dirt streaked, heavily patched and frequently damaged Balosians. Both sides lost ships, the Dilgar could afford it, Kanos could not.

"Incoming fire on all sides!" Paul gasped in disbelief, never encountering an attack of this magnitude even on his eventful travels.

"Keep going!"

Several more Dilgar ships fell, but the toll on the Balosians was growing as their light built ships proved unable to handle the improved Dilgar bolt cannons. The last of the Seffensa's escorts folded after a direct hit, the flaming wreck vanishing behind them in short order. Within moments the flagship itself took a hit throwing its stern out and triggering a thousand alarms.

"Primary fuel lines cut!" Jenny stated. "Back ups working!"

Outside the Seffensa was trailing fire like a comment, spilling fuel behind it which was ignited by shattered electrics and molten hull segments.

"Jettison fuel tank three, put the fire out!" Kanos ordered.

The damage control teams worked fast, all the time the ship continued to perform evasive twists and fire on her many opponents, everywhere they looked something was burning or fighting. The battle had grown to cover thousands and thousands of miles of open space filling it with stalwart warships, rushing fighters and cold bodies. They narrowly missed a crippled Dilgar dreadnought, passed below the bars of red laser fire from the many Nova Dreadnoughts battling their way through the enemy fleet and finally made it clear.

"No Dilgar pursuing." Paul said with a sigh.

"Sir, we're down to one third strength." Jenny told. "Just too many of them."

"Come about." Kanos ordered.

On the main view screen the image rotated with the cruiser until it showed the epic contest once again. A massive number of ships battled each other in a confined space, small glowing lights of damaged ships moved slowly around the scene while the traces of laser broadsides pinpointed where the bulk of the Earth fleets were.

"There are too many of them." Kanos agreed. "Prepare to attack again."

Both Paul and Jenny accepted the order without question.

"All ships report ready."

"Take us into battle, no more running."

EAS Zhukov

Benton stifled a cough, the acrid air tickling his throat with smoke pulled through the vents from a compartment several decks away that was engulfed in flames.

"Roll the ship, broadside enemy Dreadnought!" He demanded. "And purge the damn air vents!"

The Dreadnought juddered, chairs and crew rattling as heavy bolt fire gouged into the side of the ship. The Nova class was dedicated to offence and as such had a weak interceptor grid and no secondary weapons. Normally a dreadnought relied on a couple of corvettes to provide point defence, unfortunately the Zhukov's corvettes were at this point black lumps of molten metal.

"That was number eight gun!" The XO called out. "We lost the whole turret!"

"Still means we have more firepower than an angry god! Open them up!"

The Dilgar dreadnought pushed on, laying rapid shots into the human flagship. The thick armour was diminishing the force of the attack but the continuous fire was causing ever increasing damage. Gas and flame poured from a dozen ruptures as cratered holes formed in the grey beast and hull seams began to split open.

But the Earth ship was not simply letting itself get picked apart, the dozen shattered Dilgar ships surrounding it attesting to that fact. Her guns aligned again, focusing on the enemy heavy ship before bright red light flamed from the massive gun barrels. The Dilgar ship weathered the attack for a short while, outlasting most ships that had drawn the attention of the Zhukov. Its thicker than average armour blistered and flaked away in a red haze, sparks and eruptions of molten warship illuminating the dreadnought brightly and spectacularly, its whole surface dancing in a macabre display of destruction. Ultimately it did not last, the Nova bored its way into the innards of the Dilgar ship, passing through decks and bulkheads like paper, igniting air and throwing debris into space. The Dilgar capital ship managed three salvoes before it finally gave up and blew itself in half, the tormented hull tumbling slowly on its course.

"More warships incoming, three of them!"

"Split turrets and engage them all." Benton said. "Where's Hernandez?"

"Still on his way, his fleet is heavily engaged."

"Aren't we all?" Benton muttered. "Any response from fleet command?"

"No sir, I don't even know if they heard."

"Better pray they did, if we don't see help in the next hour we're done."

Fourth Fleet was surrounded by enemy ships, some alive and some dead. They were like a shell of torn metal and twisted girders, wrecked and ruined by human firepower. But while many Dilgar ships had been torn apart many more continued to attack, moving swiftly through the detritus of their fallen comrades they kept firing on the weakening human fleet. Most of the time they missed, and often when they hit the damage was relatively light. Unfortunately as time dragged on that damage grew and grew, pulling down mighty warships and whittling away fighters.

After so long under fire most of the Earth Force ships had taken damage of some sort, in some cases deep ruts or leaking jets of air, in others the ship was barely recognisable, its outer surfaces simply gone and replaced by a black thicket of decking and bulkheads. The defensive fire was weakening as ships were crippled or outright destroyed, and the Dilgar never let up on the pressure.

"Dagger four check six!" Ari'shan warned. "Behind you!"

His fellow Dart fighter sped up and banked hard away trying to out run his attacker, and in that second Ari knew he was dead. Dagger four pushed his engines hard, the fully open throttles blasting long streaks of purple and succeeding in putting distance between himself and a pursuing Starfury. He just couldn't outrun the plasma bolts that soon after followed him along.

Ari was tempted to avenge his comrades death, but had problems of his own. Three of them. He rolled his fighter hard over and pulled away, not relying on speed but the agility of his new fighter to keep him alive. It was working so far, but with three opponents on his tail he was having to get creative.

He roared through the fiery battle, veritable walls of fire covering every angle. Massive plasma bolts the size of cargo shuttles slammed into green hulls with tremendous force while orange bolt fire crunched and burned into grey steel. It was just luck and instinct that kept him going, there was no way he could plot and predict all the artillery flying back and forth, no one could.

Two of the Furies were close by, the third hanging back and not interfering with his colleagues firing lines. By this time the opposing warships were so close it was impossible to see where one fleet started and the other stopped. Dilgar and human ships intermingled, sharing space and fire. Several Dilgar ships sported bolt hits, marks of friendly fire accidents all to common in such a thick battle. It was unavoidable, and few of those ships would likely escape the turmoil.

He slid under a Dreadnought, its anaemic fighter defences ignoring him while the big guns slashed at fleeting enemy ships, missing some targets and hitting others. The powerful cannons had no trouble carving Dilgar ships to pieces and the human Dreadnoughts were receiving a lot of attention. This particular one had lost three engines and was almost totally black, yet still fired every available gun and was still cutting down those who challenged it.

He watched an Earth Force Hyperion cruiser that was a mass of flame bringing down two enemy ships, the last salvo of plasma cannon fire passing clean through a Tratharti and leaving a three hundred foot wide hole straight through the vessel. Seconds later the Hyperion exploded in a slowly expanding white haze, firing its guns until the last moment.

A Burning Nova was being engaged by Four Dilgar Dreadnoughts and six more destroyers, its sides a constant glow of energy as bolt fire impacted constantly. She still managed to hold her course, salvo firing her laser cannons in short piercing bursts at her attackers as pushed into the teeth of the attack.

His eyes were filled with these events as he sprinted around them, the majestic mayhem of an all out battle the like of which had never been seen before. Both sides knew how to fight and could not afford to lose. There had been no surrenders or calls for mercy, just a final spiteful volley of heavy weapons before the reactors exploded.

G-forces kicked him in the chest, his fingers gripping the controls as the stick threatened to slip away. Before him the grey mass of an Oracle cruiser dominated his vision, the ELINT cruiser picked full of holes from a close encounter with a Dilgar destroyer. It tried to fire on him but with no great success, by the time they noticed Ari was skimming the hull.

The Furies were careful with their shots, not willing to risk damage to the valuable EA vessel they tried to get into a clean position before firing again. That brief respite was all the time Ari needed. He twisted under the ship, passing beneath the bow and through a set of supporting girders common to old Earth Ships. He slipped out of sight of the pursuers and back flipped, a well rehearsed tactic for his squadron.

Two of the Earth fighters followed dutifully, crossing straight under his guns. The lead craft exploded the instant it showed itself, the other dodged with a sharp twist but Ari caught it with the second burst, clipping its engine and spinning it into the side of the ship.

He waited a heartbeat for the third fighter, then smiled and swung about. This human was more of a challenge and as Ari guessed he swept around from a different direction anticipating the ambush. The Dart Fighter met him head on, exchanging fire as they closed nose to nose, blue and orange fire missing by mere slivers. The human went left and Ari went right, passing by each other in a flurry of metal and thruster fire as they quickly turned to keep guns on target. In almost every instance the Starfury came about first, its superior handling often the last curse many Dilger ever uttered. But Ari was prepared, spinning and lifting his fighter at the same time to clear the human gun arcs. With massive effort he dropped the nose with pinpoint accuracy fighting against the hideous forces battering his body and pulling the trigger.

He had earned that victory, he had come to the brink of death many times and it made him feel completely alive. He saluted the wreckage and bid the soul of the pilot a swift and eternal reward, then went to find another opponent.

From her perspective Jha'dur was on the edge of an emotional experience. The panoramic view before her was just magnificent, the interplay of dark and light, of fire and cold steel, life and death. It was art, a masterpiece of her making wrought by the skills of her soldiers. And yet it was nothing without Earth Force, they turned a battle by the numbers into a conflict of legendary proportions. She had faced more ships than this before, she had faced skilled commanders and stubborn soldiers, but this was a whole different experience.

Deep, deep inside she still had that voice, that one long nagging question. She still asked herself why she was fighting. Perhaps now watching the furious fight unfold she could provide some sort of answer.

"This is what glory looks like Captain." She spoke in respectful awe. "All the battles we've seen together, all the victories. This is easily the greatest."

"Respectfully Warmaster, we haven't won yet."

"Quite true Captain, quite true." Jha'dur nodded. Her eyes settled on the beleaguered Fourth fleet, fighting like demons and clinging fiercely to their guns. "Those people redefine courage."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Great people have died by our hand today. And we haven't finished yet." She checked the status display. "Assault groups?"

"Ready Warmaster."

"Give the attack order, straight through the centre of the human formation. All out attack Captain, whatever it takes to split them up."

"Understood Warmaster."

"Whatever it takes." She repeated.

The implication was simple, the human fleet had to break on this attack even if it meant sacrificing their own Dilgar ships to do it. Suicide attacks were nothing new to the Imperial fleet, but they were usually spur of the moment decisions rather than orders. They were also rarely given implicit orders on such a scale.

Several hundred ships formed up and began to advance, pointing for the human fleet like a dagger. The depth of their orders were not lost on the command crews who accepted them willingly. To die in service of Omelos was the highest of honours, and against a respected enemy like Earth Force there was no shame in falling. They had been told as much by their Warmaster, and none questioned.

EAS Zhukov

"We've expended three quarters of our fuel sir!"

Benton grunted a laugh. "Busy day!"

"We've been firing our main guns constantly, she was never designed for such a prolonged fight!"

"The old girl's still got it, maintain salvo fire!"

The massive guns never tired, swinging out and tracking independently. The gunnery crews were masters of their craft, assigning one or two guns to bring down destroyers or concentrating an alpha strike on enemy fleet squadrons or dreadnoughts. The barrels were blackened, some glowed a dull red with exchanged heat as they exceeded their design specifications. The warship had more than earned its reputation so far, battered and angry it remained unbowed and defiant.

A trio of turrets spoke, the laser blasts cracking into the side of a Dilgar heavy ship. The vessel was shoved sideways in a ream of flame, slabs of armour falling away like leaves in autumn. Within seconds the first beams emerged on the far side, then traced through the ship opening it like a tin can.

"General, the Nijmegan is losing her containment!" reported the XO brusquely. "She's going to blow!"

The named cruiser was gutted, it was amazing she'd lasted as long as she had done. As a last act she burned her engines beyond limits, melting the thruster bells in seconds and no doubt rendering the surviving crew unconscious or worse, not that it would matter in a few more seconds. The broken ship had enough kick to bury itself in a Dilgar dreadnought, crushing the slim hull and gouging deep into the enemy ship before the reactors went critical, taking both ships in a fireball.

"Good bye Derik." Benton spoke to her departed Captain. "Tighten the formation, close the gap she left."

"Sir, fresh contacts!"

"More of them?"

"Aye sir, enemy ships coming in fast. Five hundred plus."

He held his nerve, forcing his face to remain blank despite the news. "Standby to redirect fire."

The fresh Dilgar ships piled in, crossing into range very rapidly and opening fire. A rail gun frigate exploded violently while beside it a Hyperion took a grazing hit, a vast scooping of its upper hull hollowed out by the passing shot.

"Alpha strike!" Benton ordered. "Shoot!"

The Zhukov checked its aim, surrounded by escaping gas from its own decks and fired, the laser guns igniting some obscuring oxygen in a brief red expanding halo. Downrange four Dilgar ships died in flames, one of them back flipping high enough to block a neighbouring cruiser. The two vessels slammed into each other amid screaming metal and thundering explosions

"Reading fighters!"

"Defence squadrons?" Benton demanded.

The XO just shook his head.

"Better brace yourselves then, and keep shooting!"

The Dilgar ships didn't slow down, passing within a stones throw of the Earth lines. Several just collided with Earth ships, bringing down a few cruisers and badly wounding a Dreadnought. Even with half a Targath protruding from its prow in a complete mass of flames the Dreadnought still engaged, her surviving rear guns not giving the Dilgar even a moment of respite.

"Enemy ships are in among us, engaging at point blank range!"

"Let them!" Benton snarled the challenge. "It's what we were built for!"

He was right, Earth Force weapons diminished in power over range, at this sort of close in melee they were utterly lethal. Plasma cannons routinely punched through the Dilgar ships end to end killing anything smaller than a destroyer in one clean hit. A Dilgar cruiser was flipped end over end, barrel rolling through the battle trailing fire and wreckage. Thoruns swarmed like locusts, falling to valiant Starfuries but gradually letting numbers turn the battle.

Again and again the Zhukov took hits, her power flickering but never failing. She stood at the front of the battle, a monument to the sheer stubborness of the fleet swatting down anything that dared oppose her even now.

Ari'shan had lost track of time, it could have been minutes or hours, he didn't know and he didn't care. Nothing was untouched in this cauldron, his own Thorun bearing the scars of an exceptionally gifted Fury pilot who had forced him into a five minute epic duel flying around and sometimes through wrecked ships. A truly spirited opponent who fought on even with two engines gone. Ari gave him the respect he deserved, the honour of that fight second only to his duels with the red marked fighter.

Ari had looked for him, but he was not here. That pilot must have been in a different fleet. David Sinclair. The human name didn't mean much historically but the reputation surrounding it was more than enough to make the words sacred. In a place where life and death came within split seconds of each other Sinclair was a master of timing, a true denizen of the fighter pilot brotherhood. Jha'dur was confident all of Earth Force would come to this place to meet her. She sought a rematch with the Admiral who had burned her pride and joy, her Strike fleet, and Ari was waiting for Sinclair.

"Strike wing, orders are go." A voice said on a wide band. "Dagger squadron on cover."

Even with top pilots and new fighters the Daggers were still four pilots down against regular human squadrons, a sobering thought. Ari followed the instructions and formed up with two other Thorun squadrons, freshly arrived and dragging nukes.

"Starfuries on approach." One of the pilots warned. "Two eighty by twenty."

Ari saw them, a sight to make the heart race. Twelve Tiger furies in perfect formation, almost parade perfect. They rolled in unison, degree perfect and turned toward the missile fighters. It was surreal, an air show in the midst of living hell. The galaxy was tearing itself apart in all directions, ships fought and burned, fighters fell apart, yet this squadron proceeded with the cool calmness of a display group. It was just amazing.

"Daggers, break and attack."

The Tiger furies were no match for Dagger squadron, but they did not go down easy. What they lacked in speed and agility they made up for in a well practised formation, flowing into pairs, fours and sixes to gang up or get clear of the Thoruns. They fought hard with what they had and skilfully, better than many Nova Fury pilots and for the thousandth time that day Ari was impressed.

"Way is clear, missile strike is approved."

On his word the other Thoruns attacked, some going for cruisers and frigates but most aiming for the human Flagship, the oblong slab still giving battle. Halfway there more Furies arrived, a trio of fighters that represented the last survivors of a carrier airwing. They cut into the enemy, slaying Dart fighters left and right but not enough to stop them, not with Jha'durs words ringing in their ears.

"Nukes on the way!" the sensor officer barked a warning.

"Brace, brace, brace!"

Eleven missiles pounded the ship, smaller than ship launched weapons they could not instantly kill the mighty ship but in such numbers the damage was still intense. The rippling explosions cut right to the bone, slaking off the thick armour, bulging the hull inwards and causing massive flaming hull breaches. Fuel and air spilled like blood from the behemoth, the Nova sliding away and reeling from the hits in an image of agony.

Ari watched enthralled as the beast of a ship fell away in a river of fire, vast sections of it drifting apart and allowing in one section a clear glance at the cargo holds buried deep within the ship. He was witnessing the death of a giant, the first Nova to fall in the war.

Except it didn't. Gouged, scarred, nuked and shot to the brink of annihilation the Zhukov clawed back, a handful of guns offering reply to the attack and claiming another cruiser kill. Like the hydra it just refused to die, and with a blazing announcement of concentrated laser fire pulled itself by tooth and nail back into action, never giving up.

"We have reinforcements inbound." Car'nal pointed out.

"Alright Daggers, ease back and regroup." Ari ordered "Let's take a flanking position and look for hot spots."

A sea of Green ships was struggling through the Fourth fleet, infiltrating its spherical formation and forcing it apart, prizing ships apart and overwhelming them. The cost in Dilgar lives was steep but the results were well worth it. Fourth fleet was down to less than half strength and cracking.

"Fresh targets on port and starboard!"

Benton nodded in the semi darkness, the heavily damaged bridge lit only by the tactical screens that were clogged with enemy targets.

"What do we have left?"

"Six turrets report operational General."

"Then six turrets is what we fight with." Benton stated clearly. "Helm, angle the ship for maximum fire."

Two dozen Dilgar warships cut through space, a school of sharks slicing through the void with lethal intent. The first ship in their path was the Zhukov, stripped of its defences, lacking most of its guns and little more than a barely powered wreck. It came about to face the ships, slow and lagging but still a foe not to be underestimated.

"Enemy on attack vector."

"How many shots can we make?" The General asked.

"Maybe five or six sir before we expend our supplies."

Benton accepted the news without flinching, even though it was tantamount to a death sentence. "Make them good ones."

Three Dilgar ships fell, but the rest increased speed, turning and rolling at high speed as the Dreadnought delivered its final salvoes. The Dilgar had their orders, to break through at any cost, and likewise Fourth fleet had been told to stand at any cost. That price was now evident in the hundreds of wrecks knotted around the battle site.

Every part of the Zhukov was shaking under impacts, the tormented hull finally starting to cave in. Decks collapsed, supports broke and the warship began to bend.

"Two more down!" The Commander yelled. "Enemy Battlecruiser on Collision course!"

"Guns, take her!"

The mighty batteries delivered the last word before spluttering to a stop, their reserves finally exhausted. Ahead the Dilgar ship erupted in flames but did not explode.

"That's all we've got General."

The Dilgar warship hurtled towards them at emergency speed, it's crew maintaining control just long enough to make their last act a historic one.

"We have done more than was expected of us." Benton said solemnly. "You have my praise ladies and gentlemen. And you have my thanks."

Ari cruised around the stern of the ravaged Dilgar cruiser as it passed in a stunning display of power, a quarter of its form lost and burning as it rushed past. The Earth Flagship could not respond, it couldn't stop the juggernaut or escape it, so she just turned to face the enemy vessel head on.

The collision was not even, the Dilgar ship hit on the right hand side of the Zhukov, digging deep into the flank of the warship and scraping along. The cruiser disintegrated like soap on sandpaper, eroded to nothing by the thick human hull. The damage was final, the entire side of the dreadnought was a sheet of flame, thousands of feet of yellow haze obscuring the mighty ship in a halo of light.

"By the gods." Ari managed to utter as the Zhukov crossed by like a shooting star, its engines locked ahead even as its insides burned away into space. Like a massive shooting star the Dreadnought slipped away, the first of her kind to be lost in action. The tangle of scattered wrecks bearing silent witness to the resistance she had delivered.

Behind her the rest of Fourth fleet was in a similar state, isolated, battered on all sides, trapped and left without support. They did not despair or fail, they didn't break or give in to panic, they fought. One by one, two by two the Fourth fleet diminished leaving a bloody trail of Dilgar ships around them discarded like rubbish.

"I never imagined anything like this." Car'nal said. "We've both seen action, but this…"

"What were you expecting?" Ari returned. "We know Earth Force, and we know Jha'dur. When they met again this was bound to happen."

"It's just the slaughter, this sort of point blank fighting. Just defies words."

"This is the battle for our world my friend. It wasn't going to be small."

They watched a few more moments, thirty Dilgar ships passed through the lines and prepared to engage the remaining human ships, the fresh vessels looking to open the final chink in the Fourth fleet.

"We still need to put more troops on the planet." Ari added. "And then…"

He was cut off by a massive series of explosions, the trim fleet that had just passed by suddenly broke apart in a hail of laser and plasma fire, shredded and ruptured in a matter of seconds under the concentrated attack.

"I was wondering about them." Ari smiled. "Day's not over yet."

With renewed Vengeance the Seventh fleet strode into battle smashing down enemy ships on all sides, the Tirpitz taking its share of the risks and the honours.

"Sitrep Commander?"

"We finally broke to the centre of the fighting sir!" Horowitz spoke quickly and sharply. "We've got the Fourth fleet on sensors!"

"Take us right through!" Snapped the General. "Waste anything in front of us!"

They were badly outnumbered, but with the enemy ships nearby largely focused on the Fourth fleet Hernandez had a very slender chance to make a difference. The Seventh fleet was not in great condition, several dozen ships had been lost in the long advance and many more were damaged, they were not coming in fresh but their determination was unbroken. Without thought of the odds the fleet hammered their way into the midst of the fighting, putting themselves in the middle of ten times their number of enemy ships to reach their comrades.

The Tirpitz clove like an axe, parting three enemy cruiser squadrons like water and claiming several kills. The rest of the fleet was battling just as hard, pushing ships and crew endurance to the limit as they razed enemy ships left and right.

"Where's the Zhukov?" Hernandez demanded. "General Benton?"

Horowitz could only shake her head. "They're gone sir."

Hernendaz checked the displays with unspeakable sadness, counting off the shattered remnants of the once great fleet.

"We were too late." He said. "Too late, but we can still do something."

"General, I'm reading more unengaged Dilgar ships, they're heading this way."

"Course?"

"They're vectoring in behind us. They'll cut us off from Balos sir."

The ship rocked, but the General didn't notice, his head and face straight as he planned his next move.

"Sir?" prompted Horowitz. "Orders sir?"

"Open channel, general broadcast."

"Aye sir."

He inhaled deeply. "This is General Hernandez, I am assuming command of the fourth fleet. Withdraw at once to Balos. I repeat, fall back to Balos."

He could see the pale Israeli XO growing paler.

"To all ships, fighting retreat, fall back by task force."

"Yes sir, orders sent."

"Half a million clicks at a time, even numbers first, odd numbers provide suppression fire. By the book Commander, just like we practised."

"Just like practice." She reassured herself. She found herself extremely pleased the Dreadnought did not have windows, if she saw the scene outside she wasn't sure her heart could take it.

"Keep it together people." Hernandez said as if reading her mind. "We still have a hard job to do. Make it happen."

Seffensa.

Paul felt dry in his throat, a physical response to the unfathomable reality of events unfolding around him. He didn't know what to expect in this battle, but ultimately he was thinking that Earth would win no matter the odds, that they would triumph just like they had in every fight so far. The early battles had been so easy and so spectacular there was a sense that the war was as good as over. Clearly it was not.

"Sir, message on open frequency." He forced himself to speak, his head light and unsure. "From Earth Force, it's a fall back order."

"Are they jumping out?" Kanos enquired.

"No sir, back to the planet."

"That is something to be respected." The Balosian approved. "Unlike the old League at least they will not just abandon us."

"We have a responsibility here Commander." Jenny said quietly in a hoarse voice, strained from relaying frantic orders above the sound of fighting. "We have hundreds of thousands of people on Balos, Hernandez won't abandon them."

"He can't beat this fleet." Kanos said. "And his reinforcements are too far away. He isn't going to save them."

"It won't stop him trying."

The Balosian hissed a clucking laugh. "At least we will have company."

"Commander?" Jenny frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We left Balos before, we retreated and abandoned our world. We aren't leaving again, no more running, no more hiding. We did what we said we would do, we came home, and here we stay."

"Commander, I'm not afraid to follow you." Paul said firmly. "But look at the size of that fleet. The Alliance will need every ship and crew capable of fighting to beat them. This isn't the last battle Commander, don't throw everything away."

Kanos nodded with more than a touch of regret.

"What you say is true, but honour demands this of me. We must redeem ourselves."

"That's got nothing to do with it Kanos, you have to live and fight another day!"

"As you said yourself, look at that fleet." The Balosian pointed. "Look at what it did to your ships, two full fleets broken and running. Veteran ships lost despite their strength. There aren't enough ships in the League or Earth to stop them."

"We can't just…"

"Paul, it is Deathwalker." Kanos spoke with surprising softness. "She came back to finish the job, its over, no one is stopping her now."

"I don't accept that."

"It is your choice, and I respect it. You still have hope, we have had very little for years. When we finally come home, look what happens."

Paul shook his head. "Just think about it."

"I have. I want you to leave."

"No."

"Your shuttle is fuelled, both of you go, make for Balos." Kanos ordered. "You have hope, and who knows, maybe you will be right. Go, I doubt they'll care for a shuttle with so many warships around."

"Commander…"

"Go now, go while you still can." Kanos said firmly. "You changed my view on the galaxy, showed my something I thought was lost. You helped us, now I'm helping you."

Paul finally just nodded in resignation.

"Your people are the bravest I've met."

"Take the ships log." Kanos said. "Give it to my kin, it is the only record of all we have done. Tell them we did not abandon them."

"I will."

"Do not forget us." Kanos said.

"Nobody will forget." Paul replied solemnly. "I promise."

Near Balos.

"Bloody flaming hell!"

"Come on Tucker, now what?"

"I'm getting signals on the fleet comms, not good."

Garibaldi grimaced. "How not good?"

"Like we're getting our arses handed to us on a silver plate." The cockney answered. "Not in so many words."

The 101st Division had already been in their assault shuttles moving slowly towards Balos when Jha'dur had unveiled her counter attack. They had been faced with two choices, turn around and load back onto the troop ships or keep on for Balos. Ultimately it would have taken longer to go back to the ships, so the pilots of the shuttle wave throttled up and dove for Balos, the half full warships quickly evacuating with their valued cargo. Ten thousand men and women in five hundred shuttles hurtled for the brown rock, so far they had escaped attention but with the Earth Fleet falling back the Dilgar were getting a lot closer.

"We're going to put down on the Hauser Plateau." Lieutenant Fox stated from the back of the shuttle. "The pilots will release us at a thousand feet, we drop down and form up with Second Army. The empty shuttles will land by themselves."

It was the best option, the shuttles were going to be very vulnerable on final approach, by parachuting out it meant that if they were brought down they didn't take a whole platoon of crack soldiers with them.

Garibaldi was at the front of the shuttle near the flight deck able to look out of the front of the shuttle over the pilots shoulders. He could see a Starfury glowing a few hundred feet beyond and was reassured by the presence of the fighter escort, even if the Dilgar had a dozen times as many of their own out there.

"Say again Bad Penny?" One of the pilots questioned. "Alright, confirmed."

Garibaldi was going to ask what the pilot had heard but didn't need to, the blue suited officer switched on the shuttle tannoy.

"Attention, our escorts just told us they have incoming on sensors."

"How many?" Fox asked.

"A lot Ma'am, we'll have to pull some evasive actions soon. Make sue you are well strapped in."

"Okay, you heard the man!" Fox reiterated. "Get braced and hang on, trouble is brewing."

From his vantage point Garibaldi could see the Starfuries peeling away to intercept what he guessed were Dart fighters. As always the numbers didn't seem in the favour of the human pilots but this time it might be too much even for the vaunted Nova Furies.

Almost as soon as the Furies had passed long streaks of energy fire whizzed past in the other direction, orange bolt fire and pulsar rounds.

"Here we go." The pilot muttered to the co-pilot, then jolted the controls.

Garibaldi was not a pilot, nor did he have any desire to be one. He tolerated the high G insertions as part of his job but didn't like them. Taking part in a dogfight was not something he ever wanted to do, and especially not in a lumbering shuttle.

He was violently thrown one way and then another as the pilot handled the shuttle roughly, avoiding enemy attack routes and trying not to crash into one of his compatriots.

"Watch him, right ahead!"

The shuttle dropped, giving Garibaldi a picture perfect view of the underside of a Thorun as it flittered past.

"Crazy son of a…" The Pilot cursed. "More of them!"

The shuttle was flying like a bullet, twisting and rolling but unable to really turn, it was moving too fast and was too focused on reaching the relative safety of Balos.

"Watch it! Watch it!" The Co-pilot frantically waved.

Outside there was a bright flash, then a clatter like hard rain on the outer skin of the shuttle.

"They got Pasc, what the hell was that?"

"Warships!"

To add to their woes several Dilgar destroyers were approaching, firing into the convoy of shuttles. Several exploded, hit by heavy weapons fire or roving Thoruns that slipped by the Starfury net. Each one a grievous blow to the elite division.

"We're gonna get wasted before we even hit the ground!" Bugs complained angrily. "Not fair!"

The shuttle rolled hard, a missile streaking under its belly.

"Way too close!" The pilot grumbled. "What happened to our escorts?"

"They're busy." Returned his side seater. "Not good, those ships are gaining."

Several massive bolts grazed past, rocking the assault shuttle.

"Don't fly so straight!"

"I'm not!"

"Weapons lock!"

"Ready to break on my mark!"

"Missile launch, incoming ordnance!"

"Standby to break."

A pair of missiles departed the closest destroyer, pushed on purple streaks toward the convoy and Garibaldi's shuttle in particular. They were large weapons better designed for hitting warships, but were accurate enough to target the shuttles. The pilot held his nerve, timing the approach and preparing to dodge at the last minute.

"Ready decoys."

Garibaldi could se the speck of light, the innocuous herald of impending death if the pilot was wrong in his evasion by just a second. He was utterly focused on the missile, poised and ready. He didn't even notice the shadow until I was right in front of him.

Garibaldi spotted it, a cliff of dark grey that swept up between the shuttle and the missile. Clinging to the surface were rows of guns, massive and moving in place to target hostile vessels. On the hull he could read the name Patton and saw the blue and gold badge of Earth Force.

"It's one of ours!"

The Dreadnought Patton took the missile hits for the convoy with barely a scratch, detached from the Seventh fleet she finally made it into place and prepared for action.

"All shuttles, all shuttles form on my position." A gruff voice ordered. "Take cover behind the Patton or Churchill, we'll escort you to orbit."

In the distance a second Dreadnought was visible, showering laser fire towards the enemy positions.

"That's more like it!" The pilot cheered. "Moving in!"

The Dreadnoughts were as effective as their word, keeping the enemy warships at bay while the Starfuries and escorting Corvettes joined the fleet and kept the Thoruns occupied. It was a big detachment from the fleet, but saving the division was more than worth it.

The heavy ships broke away as the fleet reached orbit, turning to cover the back of the shuttles as they entered the atmosphere.

"Good luck Screaming Eagles." The Dreadnought Captain wished. "We'll won't be abandoning you."

The shuttles took the atmosphere with a bang, thundering and shaking like they were in a cement mixer. They were rated to take extreme temperatures and the speed of re-entry was at the edge of their tolerances.

"We're in the pipe!" Informed the pilot. "Get ready to go!"

"Red Platoon, suit up!" Fox ordered. "Check your gear!"

A sensor beeped on the navigation console.

"Hell, enemy fighters!"

"Banshees are rising to meet us!"

"They ain't going to make it!" The pilot said. "Enemy lock, Lieutenant, we're dropping now, stand by!"

"We're going too fast!"

"Just get ready!"

Everything changed in a second, there was a silent flash that temporarily blinded Garibaldi coupled with a shocking cold breeze. When he recovered an instant later the cockpit was gone, completely gone, and he was an inch from open air with Balos rushing up to meet him.

"They nailed us!" Fox yelled, the shuttle now out of control and falling out of the sky. "Get out!"

She banged her hand on the rear door and activated the emergency release, blowing explosive bolts and separating the rear hatch from the craft.

"Out! Out! Out!"

The shuttle was plummeting, to get out required climbing upwards towards the back of the shuttle. Slowly the platoon began leaving, whipped out into the jet stream an clearing the shredded landing ship.

Garibaldi was still a little dazed, he was alive and intact but was still recovering. He could see smoke rails on the surface, a mountain range and tiny plumes of blackness that marked the ground battle raging as fiercely as the one in the heavens.

"Sergeant!" Fox screeched. "Sergeant! Out!"

That caught his attention, and he began to finally move, unhooking his seat belts and fighting up. Two soldiers were ahead of him when the shuttle lost a wing, throwing it into a sharp spin. Fox lost her grip and tumbled out, opening her collapsible glider wings moments later. One of the soldiers fell back and fell past Garibaldi, the Sergeant only just catching him. With massive effort he swung the man sideways and let him grab a hand hold on the floor.

"Dammit Gav! Third time I saved your ass this year!"

"Thanks Sarge!"

The man ahead leapt out and Garibaldi was next, he poked his head out the top into whistling air. The shuttle was trailing black smoke and burning, plus the ground was getting closer.

"Come on Gav!"

"On my way!" he replied, forcing himself up hand over hand.

"Haven't got all day Private!"

"Don't leave me Sarge!"

"I'm not going to, just move!"

Amazingly Garibaldi got a clear view of a Banshee fighter roaring past, its engine sound lost in the flowing air.

"Gav!"

"Nearly there!"

Garibaldi reached his hand back into the shuttle. "Take it!"

"Sarge!"

"Now Gav, now!"

Their fingers touched for an instant, a tiny tactile contact that was immediately snatched away as the back of the shuttle tore off, throwing Garibaldi into the air as the shuttle and its last occupant fell into a flat spin. His glider wings deployed automatically at a thousand feet and Garibaldi began floating to safety, his eyes fixed on the falling and burning shuttle until it hit the ground.

One more dead star among a whole sky of them.


	85. Chapter 85

83

Balos

Hauser Plateau

"Dog Charlie Fox, Dog Charlie Fox, receive." Francis spoke into the communication centre. "Dog Charlie Fox, come in, anyone, over."

He waited, straining to hear anything over the blanket static.

"Dog Charlie Fox," He repeated the code. "Come in, over."

Still nothing, as there had been nothing on long range comms for over an hour now.

"I'm still not getting a signal General, planet side stuff is fine but I can't talk to anyone in orbit."

"Must be jamming." General Biek answered from the doorway of his command APC.

"Unless they're not up there anymore sir."

Biek shook his head. "They're still up there. I can see them."

The General stared up at the sky, the bright sunlight making his desert camouflage seem white and yellow. In the blue sky above even at this time of day the flashes of the distant orbital battle were clear. Exploding nukes, rupturing reactors and the glimmer of heavy broadside fire filtered down, not telling Biek which side was winning but that at least they were still up there, and if the Fleet was still fighting there was hope.

"We still need to know what is happening, any word on the scout shuttles we sent up?"

"Not a thing sir." Francis shook his head. "We should have some landing ships on the way down, the 101st Airborne."

"Damn." Biek kept looking up. "They're going to have it rough."

The sky kept sparkling, to the untrained eye a beautiful phenomenon with all the threat ant terror of a sudden rainstorm. For those who saw beyond the initial appearance it was enough to cause a shudder.

"General, sir I'm getting new updates from the front." Francis drew his attention.

"What are they saying?" He stepped back into the cool vehicle.

"Not good, the Dilgar are launching counter attacks across the whole front."

Biek poured over the map, the surface shifting and changing to display the information as it was fed through. The initial human advance had been swift and decisive, but now it seemed the Dilgar were massing even greater strength to drive the allied forces back to their starting points.

"This isn't good." The General grunted. "If this is right it means there's a lot more Dilgar out there then we predicted."

"Not the first time that's happened sir." Francis grimaced. "I don't know how we missed them, we can read their secure signals before they do!"

"Maybe they figured that out Agent." Biek responded. "Doesn't matter now, what we have to do is get out of this."

He took a long look at the map, visualising the elements under his control and what he could do with them.

"Clearly we can't hold this ground we've just taken, we're too stretched out and half our force is outside the defence grid. We can't count on the fleet to cover our back, we have to plan for the worst."

"What if we don't lose orbit sir?" Francis asked.

"Then we don't have to worry." Biek answered. "But I can't gamble a hundred thousand lives on that. We're going to have to withdraw."

The words lingered in the command truck for a long moment, the technicians not replying, but each feeling something slip away.

"I know we've bled for this advance, that we've paid for this ground, but we can't get caught out there in the open." Biek said firmly. "We can hold this plateau, but we can't hold the plain. Get the message out to divisional commanders. Fall back at once."

He turned to Strylek, the Balosian representative.

"My apologies Major, it seems the liberation may be delayed for a time."

"I can understand General." The reptilian officer nodded slightly. "Disappointment is no stranger on this world."

"The day will come." Biek said. "It just isn't this one."

The communication experts began to send out the word, relaying it directly to the Earth Force divisions engaged in battle and through the battle net down to each individual soldier. No one was going to get left behind, everyone knew the plan and that despite their most valiant efforts the position was untenable. Each division would be left to make its own specific withdrawal plan, a steady collapsing back under heavy cover to prevent the enemy exploiting the situation.

"We need to move the Second Army forward to the rim of the plateau." Biek stated. "Dig them in to form a solid line for our First Army to fall behind."

"Sir, I have Brakiri forces acknowledging the order." Piped in one of the techs. "They are withdrawing to our location."

"Excellent. What about the Markab?"

"Nothing yet sir."

"Keep me informed, they're a long way out and the least mechanised of our forces." Biek recalled. "We'll need to cover them the longest."

"General, artillery reports ready for long range suppression fire."

"Get them on it, the sooner the better, we don't know when we'll lose top cover."

Francis watched the General at work, his eyes flickering from maps to screens to reports, assimilating the information and deciding solutions. General Biek was a master of organisation, a man who knew every detail and left nothing to chance. He had a stock of contingency plans ready for just such an event, he had plans for defeat as well as victory which automatically elevated him above most League Generals.

"Contact report, hillside sensor station!" One of the officers called. "Enemy aircraft!"

"Number and type son?"

"Sir, if I read this right… thousand plus. Dart fighters."

"A thousand fighters?" Francis repeated coldly. "How many do we have?"

"Last count, eighty six." Biek said curtly.

"Holy…"

"Knock it off Agent O'Leary, the ships in orbit are taking on a hell of a lot more than a thousand fighters." Biek snapped sharply. "Signal anti aircraft batteries, tell them to expect company. Then get everything on the ground in the air tooled up for combat. If it's got wings I want it in the sky in three minutes. Make it happen."

The Dilgar fighters were hugging the ground, streaking over the desert like blurs. They flew over the armies, through roiling smoke from the detritus of battle and skirted the rain of incoming shells. One or two fell to mobile anti aircraft fire from the human ground forces, but their path largely avoided the thickest concentrations.

The air rushed past their canopies, the engines burning hard to keep the heavy fighters up in the sky rather than space. Like the Starfury a Thorun was primarily a deep space dogfighter, it had enough lift and enough raw power to operate in an atmosphere, but it was a challenge to fly and very unforgiving. Normally only veteran pilots were allowed into atmospheres and even then were forbidden to fly below a thousand feet. These particular warplanes were skimming the ground at less than fifty, one tiny error would be fatal. Most of them were not really qualified to fly such a dangerous approach, but the Warmaster willed it, so it happened.

They swept up to the plateau, the mountainous ridges rising up before them and climbed. Some went over the mountains, some slipped between peaks, an handful miscalculated and hit croppings of rock. They roared over the obstacles at full throttle, flaming engines leaving dirty black smoke in their wake as they saw their target, the sprawling base and airfield of the command group surrounded by countless smaller encampments and communication hubs. A very target rich environment.

For many it was their last view. As soon as they cleared the cover of the hills the ground defences opened up, Earth Force Uller air defence tanks forming the bulk of the firepower with additions from several Brakiri emplacements. The Uller was based on the Thor hull replacing the heavy cannon with a twin laser mount and advanced air search tracking system. The lasers were much faster than missiles or rail guns, instantly catching up with the Dilgar warplanes and effortlessly slicing them from the sky. Blasts of fire and clouds of black marked hits, hot debris falling from the sky into burning piles of junk on the ground.

The losses were heavy but with such a large formation it did not slow them down. Laser batteries sliced three or four fighters down at a time, but could only fire in bursts or risk melting out the weapons. Dropping back to low level the surviving Thoruns began their attack, launching missiles and strafing with bolt cannons.

Francis felt the command truck shudder as the first detonations ran through the rock. He looked out from the door in time to see a fuel truck erupt in a gigantic ball of flame hundreds of feet high, three Dart fighters zipping past at extreme low level.

"As you were Agent." Biek drew his attention back to the job in hand. "I need a picture of what is happening in orbit."

"Yes sir."

"I don't care how you do it Agent, just get me a picture of what is happening up there."

Balos

Somewhere outside the Earth Force defence perimeter.

Slowly he raised his head above the cover of the rocks, the lichen stained boulders serving to conceal him from watchful eyes or enemy gunfire. He carefully searched the baked landscape, keening for trouble as the various scanning devices surveyed the world before him. There was nothing, which was both disheartening and a relief. There were no opponents to fight past or hide from, but no friends either.

Alfredo Garibaldi popped his helmet seal and raised his visor, taking a quick sip from his canteen and quenching his parched throat, the cool liquid like the best pint of beer he'd ever tasted. The pale coloured uniform he wore was state of the art, lined with cooling pipes and insulators to keep the heat out, but it had limits and as the sun rose over the rocky desert those limits were soon going to be apparent. He checked his connection to the Earth Force battle net, the series of datalinks that brought together the whole of the military from the Joint chiefs to single soldiers on the battlefield, much like Garibaldi was now.

All he heard was static, and while a quick check showed his system worked it didn't make the static go away. That could only mean that either he was being jammed by the enemy or the Dilgar had shot down the satellites that boosted his uplink. He looked skyward, shielding his eyes and searched the horizon. The bright blue sky above was filled with blinking lights, almost overcome by the light of the sun but not quite. They were the telltale signs of an orbital battle, a big one. The fleet was still up there dealing out hell, which meant it wasn't over yet.

Even without a satellite uplink his Battle management computer could send and receive signals for several miles without risk of enemy detection, enough to break through jamming and get in contact with the rest of the platoon. There had been several seconds gap between the platoon evacuating the doomed shuttle and Garibaldi, enough to potentially put miles between them. It was his duty to link up with the unit and then somehow get back into the fight.

Without further delay he hid his glider wings, the devices folding neatly back into their bag at the touch of a button and gathered his gear. Paratroopers dropped light but with enough gear to survive days if necessary. He hefted on his pack, checked his rifle for damage and then, satisfied at the result, began walking towards the last known location of Red Platoon.

Half an hour later he was still walking, cautiously using the terrain to hide his intentions and throw off any pursuit. He didn't know if he was being followed but his training was very specific in the matter. He was alone in what was probably enemy territory, and as such he could not afford to be lax about his safety.

Fortunately the terrain was well suited to evasion. In appearance it reminded him of the African Savannah, or perhaps Southern California. It was a rocky desert, wind blaster piles of boulders clumped among yellow sand with the occasional large outcropping scattered hear and there. Starched grass sprouted in yellow bundles from shaded areas while the Balosian version of cactus eked an existence from the hard rock and hot sand. Didn't look like much of a place to fight and die over.

There was a sound, a tiny, tiny sound like a single stone falling against another. It was nothing, barely audible, it could have been just a trick of the mind, but as it registered in his ears Garibaldi knew it was not a natural accident. He gave no indication he had noticed it, continuing to walk at the same pace in the same direction. Very carefully he clicked the safety catch on his rifle to live, gathered his breath and as he passed an outcrop of rock made his move.

He threw himself to the side, turning and dropping into cover, rifle at his shoulder looking for targets. Swiftly he checked left and right, looking for danger and prepared to give whoever was behind him a bellyful of plasma. However it seemed there was no one there to target, no Dilgar patrol or Balosian predator stalking him. Just empty desert.

He did not drop his guard. Garibaldi was well aware of the sophistication his enemy had, and that the elite of the Dilgar military had stealth suits rendering them invisible to the eye and basic scanners. While it was unlikely an elite Spectre was out here hunting a lowly stranded Sergeant, Garibaldi wasn't about to bet his life on it. He looked for signs, puffs of dust, scrapes of rock, even foot prints in the sand. He listened, stilling himself and focusing on the world around him, aware of every tiny disturbance. A small lizard skittered past on his right, strands of grass blew o his left, but ahead there was nothing.

He was just about ready to go when a voice from nowhere spoke to him.

"Don't fear human." An accent stated. "I do not mean to harm you."

Garibaldi missed several heartbeats in absolute shock, turning and rolling over the rocks of his makeshift defence, his eyes wide in surprise. He had been at his most alert, most ready for action, and this individual had walked up to within six feet of him without a sound. Fortunately his new companion was a Balosian, in this case a brown skinned individual dressed in almost perfect camouflage, the colours and tones of his uniform perfectly blended to the landscape. His head was bowed and his hands held in front of him, a universal show of calmness signalling he had no hostile intent, and while Garibaldi's heart was still thundering he began to calm himself down and lowered his rifle.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Apologies." The Balosian was speaking through a translator device, a human one that was standard issue to military forces. "I am Tisket, I am here to find you."

"Me?"

"I have met your commander, the one called Fox."

"Lieutenant Fox." Garibaldi nodded, relaxing more now. "My Platoon commander."

"She said to give you this so you would believe."

Tisket opened his hand and showed Garibaldi a golden badge, the single bar of a Second Lieutenant.

"That's her." He grinned. "Glad they made it down."

"They are not far from here, waiting." The Balosian said. "Come with me, we will go."

Garibaldi stepped out of cover and returned his rifle to safe. "One question, how do you do that? How did you get past me?"

Tisket chuckled with a hiss. "A lifetime of practice. I am a hunter, once I hunted razor lizards the old way, with stealth and a knife. Now I hunt Dilgar."

"I bet they have no idea what hit them."

"Only when they see a two foot knife in their hearts." Tisket said with pride. "We must go, time is important."

By the path Tisket took it was only fifteen minutes to the location of the Platoon, the Earth soldiers scattered across a rut in the land watching for trouble. There was a bit of a cheer as Garibaldi showed up, something he acknowledged with a little showman like bow.

"Nice one Crowbar!" Tucker shouted. "Only you could get lost on a straight fall from the sky to the ground!"

"Must have been my loser radar sending me clear of you guys!" Garibaldi joked back.

Lieutenant Fox walked over to greet him.

"Glad to have you back Sergeant."

"Likewise Ma'am."

"And thank you Tisket, we appreciate your help."

"We are in your debt, and we are allies." The Balosian replied. "You are here to fight with us against the Dilgar, I am pleased to help you do this."

"That's everyone accounted for." Fox stated. "Tisket saw the drop and helped us round up stragglers, you were the last Sergeant."

"Gav didn't make it." Garibaldi reported sombrely.

"I know." Nodded the Lieutenant. "We're four people down, but it could have been a lot worse."

"Yes Ma'am, that it could."

"Our objective now is to link up with friendly forces as soon as possible." Fox stated. "It didn't look like we were doing well in orbit." She looked up, the battle still raging above. "So we're going to need to get to safety before the fighting up there stops."

She opened up her palm computer and used it to feed a map of the area into the tactical systems of the platoon, her voice accompanying the images.

"This is our location." She highlighted an area with her finger tip. "And this is our planned drop zone on the Plateau. We're going to have to make our way there and join the battalion again. Now between us and them with have a mountain ridge, that one."

She pointed behind her at a row of tall and sharp hills.

"The landing site on the plateau was picked because it is surrounded on three sides by these mountains, however there is a pass here," she pointed on the map, "where we can cut through and join the plateau without trekking all the way to the plain at the front of the zone."

"Doesn't look far from here." Garibaldi noted.

"About twelve miles." Fox said. "We should be there by this afternoon."

"But it looks like another sixty miles to the landing zone, big plateau." The Sergeant pointed.

"That's where we have some good news, the pass is guarded by a mechanised brigade." Fox said. "Once we get there we can borrow a truck and drive to the rendezvous point."

"Do we know if our troops made it there?"

"They did." Tisket spoke. "My brothers saw human soldiers in the area."

There was a sudden rising glow on the horizon quickly followed by two others, bright soundless slight that lingered for a few moments before fading.

"That doesn't look good." Garibaldi gazed over at the source once the brilliance faded.

In the distance four dirty brown mushroom clouds climbed into the sky from the plain far away, the location of the main battle between Earth and Dilgar forces.

"Tactical nukes." Fox recognised. "That's not good at all, we need to get moving fast, the Colonel is going to need us."

She closed the computer and roused the Platoon.

"Tisket will show us the quickest way, keep together and watch for trouble. If someone's dropping nukes it means things are getting really desperate. Every one of us is vital in this battle, Earth can't afford to have us idle. We came here to fight, so stow your gear and lets get on with it."

Above Balos

"Did they follow us?" Jenny demanded, gripping hard to the co pilot chair.

"What? More Thoruns?" Paul growled. "Our timing sucks!"

The shuttle dropped through the sky like a rock, blazing a red scar across the sky as it descended at full throttle to try and throw off pursuit. Behind them the spaceborne battle faded, the glowing hulls of damaged warships and tracing lights of gun fire fading like a distant memory, replaced instead by the dirty smoke and gritty sand of the planetary fighting.

"Enemy aircraft in all directions!" Jenny read the sensors. "They're swarming the airfield!"

"And we're heading straight for them!" Paul grunted. "We can't change course, we're coming in way too fast!"

"Guess we're stuck then." Jenny said.

"I'm gonna open the throttle more."

"Good idea, then when we hit the floor we can ooze into the ground and escape!" Jenny snapped. "Are you insane?"

"I can handle it, its going to be bad but we can do it!" Paul assured. "We just need to pull up at the last possible second!"

"Have you actually thought this through?"

"Yeah, just now." Paul nodded. "It's going to write off the shuttle though."

"Not like we have anywhere else to go."

"Alright, better get tightened in."

Jenny adjusted her seat belts and exhaled, securing herself well into the seat. Paul likewise did the same.

"Well, here we go then." He reached for the controls. "Hope this actually works."

"Wait, what?"

Before she could say anything more Paul threw forward the throttles and the shuttle blasted downwards at emergency speed, tearing through the air and relying on speed to evade the twirling enemy fighters blocking its path. The Thoruns were far too busy with the few Banshees and the ground batteries to be concerned with this bolt from the blue and largely ignored it, which was fine by Paul and Jenny.

The thrusters cut automatically, retro rockets burning violently and cutting their headlong descent. The effects inside could best be described as gut wrenching and made Paul thankfully he had skipped breakfast. Both of them were going to have nasty blue bruises from the straps, and would be sore and aching for days, but compared to the alternative it was nothing.

The ship nosed up, presenting its underside to the ground and blasting its landing thrusters, the gear snapping down beneath it. Paul had picked a piece of flat land beyond the airfield that looked quiet, but he couldn't guide the ship in personally. The G-forces pinned him hard in his seat, he could barely lift a finger let alone control a descending shuttle, he just had to trust his co-ordinates and hope nothing went wrong.

The shuttle slapped down on the ground hard, its hardened tyres bursting on impact and breaking the hydraulic and magnetic suspension. The crash systems on the seats prevented the two occupants suffering broken bones, though it didn't stop them being jolted and shaken beyond reason. It skidded to a halt, wrecked landing gear cutting three deep grooves in the ground while white fire retardant foam bubbled around the engines and fuel systems just in case.

"We didn't die." Paul sounded mildly surprised. "Cool."

"We're going to have a long talk about this later." Jenny slipped out of the seat with a wince. "Why can't we ever do a normal landing?"

"Maybe next time." He grinned. "We better go."

They dropped the ramp, cutting the power cords and letting it just drop to the floor with a thump.

"Wait, the box!" Paul doubled back.

"Dammit Paul, just go!"

He rushed back to the ramp pulling a large green box behind him on a trolley.

"My box of guns, you just know we're going to need them!"

He rattled down the ramp with the trolley behind him and ran for cover, noticing how hot the desert sun was after spending several weeks on one ship or another. They found a slight ridge and dropped behind it as the air roared with passing fighters.

"Jors is going to kill me." Paul looked back at the bent, smoking and foam filled shuttle behind them. "Took him two months to find one he liked."

"I hope he memorised the colour."

"Think we can salvage it?"

At that instant a Thorun roared over streaking bolter fire, the energy rounds tearing into the ground and the stranded shuttle, ripping the top of it open and triggering an explosion of white foam. The two people looked at the shredded vessel for a moment.

"I'm thinking, no." Jenny stated. "Let's find a ride."

The didn't have far to go, the whole base was littered with utility vehicles and trucks abandoned as drivers took cover from the air strikes.

They selected a basic utility truck, an open topped quartet of wheels with an engine, a windscreen and some very rough seats. That was all, but right now it was more than enough.

"Do we need a key?" Paul asked as he loaded his crate into the back.

"I have my EIA pass key." Jenny said, fishing an encoded electronic tube from her pocket and slotting it in the ignition. "If it was made in the Alliance this will start it."

Sure enough the vehicle shuddered and then growled to life, the electric engine idling with a low pitch whine as the two people sat themselves in.

"Where are we going?" Paul asked.

"The Command post." Jenny answered. "We had an appointment with the General, he's based here." She pointed to a map projected onto the windscreen. "We just have to get there, let him know about the Dilgar fleet in orbit."

"Long way to go in this mess." He grunted with trepidation, several more Thoruns screeching by overhead. "You ready for this?"

"I love a drive in the countryside." She dropped the hand brake. "Nice scenery, interesting flora, some overgrown kitties trying to nuke us all. What's not to love?"

She pushed down on the accelerator and lurched into motion, fishtailing a little on the sandy ground before finding traction and bolting down a hastily flattened out road.

"Highway to hell." Paul mumbled as the truck swerved to avoid a spill of crates from an upturned lorry, some of them marked with munitions symbols. A couple of Valkyrie gunships roared past at extreme low level, their missile racks empty and forward guns dry. They avoided the worst of the enemy attacks and found somewhere to land, out of fuel and unable to resupply.

"Sharp turn coming up." Jenny warned. "You strapped in?"

"With your driving? I always buckle up!" Paul retorted.

She threw the truck around a right angled corner pulling a slick handbrake turn before roaring away in a new direction, narrowly missing a parked tank. The truck rushed on, tyres smoking from the friction of the hard going.

"You've done this before haven't you?" Paul was holding on to the frame of the vehicle for dear life.

"Once or twice." Jenny admitted. "Hang on again. More trucks ahead."

She swerved again, going around a small convoy of yellow covered wagons. At the same time a Thorun swept over, bolt cannons blazing. The ground ripped up around the truck, showering it in sand and dirt and forcing the occupants to duck down. One of the convoy of trucks exploded violently throwing flame and wreckage across the road. Jenny drove straight through, the flames barely touching the truck.

"Holy crap! Never do that again!" Paul snapped. "I think it ruined my hair."

"Relax, not like there's a gas tank on these things to blow up."

Another Thorun blazed past at low level, exploding so close that it almost rolled the truck. Seconds later a Banshee roared over with its nose guns blazing, the dull grey sleek fighter already following a new target.

"It's getting really busy out here." Paul winced, a series of powerful explosions sounding in the distance.

"I ain't gonna argue with that." Jenny agreed. "We're nearly there, just keep your head down."

A few more explosions rang out nearby kicking up clouds of dust that drifted all around them.

Paul sighed and covered his eyes from the dust.

"I need to retire."

Red Platoon

At the front of the Platoon Tisket raised a broad hand signalling for them to stop. Beside him on point Dom did as he was told despite having absolutely no idea what they were pausing for. In the brief time they had known Tisket the platoon had quickly come to the conclusion that he was some sort of supernatural predator with a sixth sense for the hunt, able to sense danger and fade out of sight at a moments notice. Dom didn't want to speculate on how lethal this guy would be in a fight. He was a very good friend to have with the platoon.

"There are people ahead." Whispered Tisket. "Humans."

That cheered Dom up immensely, they had been walking for a long time under the sun and were by now at the foot of the mountain range they had headed for, the cutting through the peaks open ahead of them with no sign of defence. He was beginning to wonder if it had been abandoned.

"Dom to Foxy." He activated his comms. "We've detected friendlies ahead."

"Affirmative." Lieutenant Fox answered. "Check IFF and make contact."

Dom proceeded as ordered, leaving cover and broadcasting a brief recognition signal from his comms system that would be picked up by any other humans nearby. He braced himself for the response, prepared to duck and run if need be back into cover.

"Apple!" A voice shouted out from somewhere ahead.

Dom recognised it as one of the standard passwords for the landing and quickly recalled the counter word. "Turkey!"

There was a stirring from ahead, and then to his immense relief two Earth Force soldiers emerged from cover and waved him over.

"Dom to Foxy, contact established."

"Well done Private." The officer replied. "We're on our way."

For the first time in a long while Red Platoon could relax a little as they walked up past the opening of the mountain pass, nodding to and greeting the busy soldiers that were hastily fortifying themselves. Only Garibaldi remained on edge as he watched the uniformed men and women digging foxholes and laying claymore mines along the valley floor. He could understand them wanting to make the location secure, but even to his eyes the preparations seemed to be moving very fast.

They were directed to a command post, little more than a couple of desks and a long range comms system nestled between tall yellow rocks to protect it from shell fragments. Two people occupied the area, one was fixed to the comms panel checking for signals while the other was pacing back and forth waiting for something to happen.

"Sir," Fox introduced herself to the pacing man. "Lieutenant Emma Fox, commanding Red Platoon, Alpha Company, 99th Airborne."

"Colonel Morgan McReady." The man answered, welcoming her to the command post. "2nd Battalion of the Black Watch."

McReady wasn't wearing a helmet and offered her a wide smile. "We're you in that shuttle we saw come down this morning?"

"Yes sir, and I have to say its good to see some friendly faces." Fox opened her visor and returned the smile. "I'd like to itroduce Tisket of the Balosian hunters."

The native bowed at the mention.

"Honoured." McReady replied. "Glad you made it here, but you might wish you'd stayed out there. We're expecting a lot of company."

"That's why it's so busy." Garibaldi mentioned. He hated always been right.

"Before the satellites went down we spotted over a division heading this way." The Colonel informed. "They're coming for the pass and we're going to stop them."

"What sort of weapons did your Brigade bring?" Fox asked.

"The Brigade has tanks, artillery, everything." McReady answered. "Unfortunately they never made it this far, just us."

"One Battalion?" Garibaldi asked.

"Aye, one battalion." McReady answered. "Sorry Lieutenant, looks like one of those Frying pan-Fire sort of things."

Fox and Garibaldi shared a little look, one to which the Sergeant could only answer with a shrug.

"Least we'll have some company."

"We've been in contact with General Biek at Army Group command." McReady informed. "We're pulling back, retreating into the plateau under the defence grid. We're going to rely on the ships and satellites to prevent us from getting glassed from orbit while we concentrate on holding one narrow front at the head of the plateau. Bad news is there is a gap in the armour, this pass right here."

McReady put his thumb down on the map. "I have orders to hold this pass, we were supposed to have a brigade but they got held up somewhere. The General ensures me he has the First Panzer division on its way here, but I'd be surprised if it arrives before Kitty does."

"You said it was an enemy division?" Fox asked.

"A mechanised division." McReady confirmed. "Kitty isn't messing around on this one, the forces they have down here are the best, you can bet these guys know the business."

"This is good defensive land sir." Fox said. "A lot of rocks for cover and mountains on both flanks."

"Should we retreat to a narrower point of the pass, hold them there?" Garibaldi asked.

"Unfortunately Sergeant," McReady stretched his arms out. "This is the narrow part."

Garibaldi looked around. "It's got to be a mile across."

"Just over, but it doesn't get any better." The Colonel stated. "So here's where we draw the line."

"If you don't mind me saying sir, this is going to get hairy."

"You're not wrong." McReady gave a slight laugh. "But that's how it's going to go, Thin Tartan Line. If the Dilgar take the pass they can attack our rear echelons, we're going to make sure they don't. That's all there is to it."

Colonel Morgan 'Ever' McReady was a very confident man and even in this extremely dangerous situation he still radiated faith in the success of the mission and offered no hint of doubt or anger at the failure in logistics that had trapped his regiment here by itself outnumbered ten to one by a potent enemy.

His command was likewise unfazed by the fierce odds heading their way, like their comrades in orbit they had no real option other than to fight. They couldn't outrun the enemy, they couldn't escape off planet, and they certainly would never surrender and become prisoners of the Dilgar. All they could do was fight, and so they would fight well.

In that the Black Watch had a well earned reputation for fierceness and stubborn determination. One of Earth's oldest standing regiments the Black Watch had fought in every defining war of the last five hundred years, from gun powder choked lines of red coated musketry to the three world wars and beyond. Originally a Scottish Regiment a sister unit had been formed in Canada from migrants with a Highland ancestry, and it was the Canadian Black Watch which had been sent to Balos as part of the Second Army and now watched this mountain road.

McReady was a Canadian but had spent long enough in Scotland to have more than a slight Highland drawl, something he took a measure of pride in. while the regiment was equipped in the same way as all Earth Force fighting units many of the soldiers including the Colonel had brought a sash of Tartan with them in the regimental colours, dark blue and green that had given the unit its ancient name. They proudly wore these sashes around their waists or over their shoulders in lieu of kilts which were naturally at odds with the NBC protection required of their clothing

Even without wearing kilts to battle they still carried the name 'Ladies from Hell' gifted to them centuries ago by wary enemies, and even if the Dilgar didn't understand the name the members of the regiment still did.

"On the positive side we aren't entirely toothless here." The Colonel explained. "I have a half squadron of tanks from the Royal Scots hidden away to plug any gaps, ten guns in the mountain from the Indian army and a Brazilian machine gun squad up front with old fifty calibre machine guns. You ever seen one of those things?"

"Only in a museum sir." Fox answered.

"Well they still pack a punch." McReady grinned. "We are a mechanised infantry unit so I also have thirty fighting vehicles hull down out there, plus automated mortars and enough anti tank missiles to break a Dreadnought in two. Might not be a lot of us but we've got plenty of supplies."

"I wouldn't want to be trying to take this point." Garibaldi observed. "Poor Kitty is going to hate this."

"We'll tear some strips off them." McReady confirmed. "And I have a couple of air defence tanks back there, good enough to shoot down nukes. If they want us they'll have to come and get us."

"Holding a mountain pass." Fox smiled. "I've heard that one before."

"It's a good choke point." McReady approved. "If the Spartans can do it, and Sampson can do it, you can be sure the Black Watch will do it too."

He stood up tall and straightened the Tartan around his shoulders, the thick wool looking old and bare.

"I can't give you a transport, but I have a couple of jeeps you can try to squeeze on Lieutenant."

"With respect Colonel, I always wondered what it would be like to join a highland regiment." Fox offered.

"I am not going to order you to stay Lieutenant, I wager your own Colonel is going to be very busy soon."

"We can fight here or fight there sir, personally I'm sick of travelling."

McReady barked a laugh. "Well then, glad to have you aboard."

"Thank you sir." Fox nodded with a smile. "But I draw the line at Haggis."

"I'm willing to compromise!" McReady laughed. "Alright then Lieutenant, take what you need from the stores and pick a good spot. Kick off is in an hour by my reckoning. Going to be quite a game."

Later that day.

On the surface the valley seemed empty, nothing between the open plains of Balos and the landing zones of the Allied armies except for a winding route up through the mountains. Apart from crops of rocks and sparse vegetation there seemed no real movement, no life, no obstacles. The average soldier of the Imperial Cavalry Division looked on it with relief, putting aside thenotion of an ambush and happy to proceed more rapidly to their objective. The older soldiers however thought different, and so did their commanders. They slowed the advance and decided to move with caution into the mouth of the pass, dismounting their troops and moving at a crawl.

"Scouts spotted Kitty." Garibaldi informed. "Stay low and out of sight."

Red Platoon, like their new associates in the Black Watch had dug themselves in along the valley floor, scraping away the sand and piling up rocks to create foxholes. They were widely spread out, three people to a hole with twenty or thirty yards between them each responsible for a section of the passage and its defence from the inevitable Dilgar attack. He crouched down and gave the occupants of this particular defence a reassuring grin.

"You guys need anything?"

"Couple of Ice creams." Private 'Large' Turnbow chuckled in a deep voice. In his case the nick name was well deserved, Turnbow was massive, his foxhole had required an extra five minutes digging time to be large enough for him to fit in. Almost inevitably he was the heavy weapons specialist armed with the squad support weapon, a BilPro machine gun fed from a belt of razor sharp bullets. In battle he was known for swinging the weapon around with the ease of a rifle.

"No problem, I'll go fetch you one from the Dilgar souvenir shop." Garibaldi replied. "Anthrax flavour good for you?"

"If you're offering I'll have an Ebola Candy Cane." Corporal Tucker said from beside him. "I like the warm feeling inside when it melts you."

"And to think no one likes Dilgar cuisine." Garibaldi shrugged. "You guys good for grenades, missiles, toilet paper?"

"Yeah, we're good for now." Tucker answered. "We'll share with the Dilgar when they visit."

"Well it's only polite." The Sergeant approved. "Alright, remember to keep your gear switched off until after we get stuck in, we don't want Kitty to spot our signals and ruin the surprise."

"Got it Sarge."

"I'm in the next hole over." Garibaldi said. "Stay low and stay lucky."

"You too Crowbar." Tucker grinned, then sealed his helmet.

The Sergeant quickly sprinted to his own foxhole, the steady rumble of approaching vehicles growing ever louder. He dropped in and crouched down, pulling the camouflaged canopy over the top behind him. Dom and Bugs were already waiting for him.

"Damn I miss ice cream." He mentioned.

"Sarge?" Dom questioned with puzzlement.

"Something Large brought up, now its going to be bugging me all day."

"Yeah, I know its my main thought of the day." Bugs nodded. "No, wait, not getting killed is."

"That's because you haven't had real Italian ice cream." Garibaldi commented.

"Oh great, here we go." Bugs rolled his eyes. "Another lecture on Italian food."

"If we get out of this I'll make you a tub of real ice cream." Garibaldi promised. "Then you'll eat your words."

"Gonna cook them too Sarge?"

"You should get a trophy, do they have smart ass awards?"

"I'm glad getting three stripes didn't make you all lordy." Bugs laughed. "Your banter still sucks!"

"Back to business." Garibaldi got down to it. "Your gear off?"

"Yes Sarge."

"Good stack of missiles and grenades, you're the rocket man Dom."

"Yes sir, I love burning my eyebrows off for Earth."

"Keep your visor shut then." Garibaldi said. "At least after the signal."

"What is the signal?" Bugs asked.

"No one told you?"

"I was too busy digging your sodding share of the hole!"

"Then I won't spoil the surprise." Garibaldi chuckled. "Just get ready to stand up shooting."

Over the parapet the Dilgar vehicles turned into the valley and halted, their commanders looking over the terrain in detail with binoculars and scanners. The Earth Force troops remained motionless and secluded, their uniforms blocking infra red scans and with the tactical systems dormant there wasn't any signals or energy spikes to give them away.

Still wary the Dilgar commanders signalled the advance to continue, soldiers piling out of their transports and walking forward behind them, the multi wheeled armoured transports spearheading the march

Garibladi pressed himself against the forward wall of the foxhole, the thin sheet of cloth above rippling a little in the breeze. The grumble of Dilgar engines grew louder, and if he strained he could hear voices, some casual in conversation and others more formal barking alien orders.

"They must be right on top of us." Dom whispered.

"All around." Garibaldi confirmed. "Keep quiet."

TheDilgar led with their vehicles, the six or eight wheeled multi purpose fighting units moved at walking pace, their twin gunned turrets slowly rotating and looking for targets while their commanders peered from the top. Twenty yards behind came the infantry, spread out and walking over the land watching for trouble in the high hills on either side of the pass. They were so busy looking upwards and outwards they did not see what was at their feet.

One vehicle passed within inches of their hiding place, its shadow dimming the hole and its wheels dislodging several stones that trickled and tumbled to the floor. The commander of the vehicle didn't even know they were there.Garibaldi tightened his grip on the rifle and prepared to act, to spring up and into battle. The voices of the Dilgar grew nearer, louder. He could smell the fumes from the armoured vehicle, almost taste its oily residue it had passed so near, its engine remained the loudest noise in the world even as it drove past and moved away. He dwelt on the last moments of peace, the last instants of inaction before the firestorm began.

The signal was given. Not a siren, or a flare or a gun shot. It was not a rip of explosions or thunder of engines. Behind the lines upon a cropping of rock one man stood out, folded in his arms were a set of bagpipes, the haunting skirling sound they made carried along the valley as clear and crisp as they would in a highland glen, an ancient call to battle sounding arms once more.

The Dilgar soldiers froze at the sound, in equal parts puzzled and wary at the new addition to the scene, their trepidation growing as the unnatural noise bounced from the mountains until it was answered by a roaring battle cry that burst from the ground itself.

"Canada!"

Garibaldi tore away the fabric covering and raised his rifle to the shoulder with a roar of defiance and challenge, the Dilgar were just yards away and the closest ones visibly faltered as the enraged Sergeant rose from the sand in fury. A heartbeat later he opened fire, throwing down the two nearest Dilgar soldiers in a flash of plasma and an eruption of panicked cries. Bugs was with him, firing an instant later and claiming more Dilgar as the enemy infantry either threw themselves down or bolted to find cover away from the human soldiers, several more falling as the did so.

The entire valley suddenly filled with gunfire, a mix of plasma fire and old fashioned solid bullets. Private Turnbow announced himself with a tearing volley from his support weapon that gouged through a close packed Dilgar squad, Tucker watching his back and picking off survivors. Somewhere to the left the Brazilian gunners were thumping .50 cal rounds into the Dilgar formation while the Canadians unloaded a mix of solid rounds, plasma and grenades into their opponents.

The trap had been sprung after the well armed Dilgar vehicles had passed by, isolating the following infantry from their support and vice versa. With all hell breaking loose the armoured cars revved up and begin to turn their guns on the attackers. Earth Force was ready.

Dom stood up at last, facing backwards towards the nearest Dilgar vehicle with a Hammer missile on his shoulder. Each of the foxholes had a supply of anti tank weapons, and each one was now primed for use and aimed at the back of the Dilgar support.

"Clear behind!" Dom warned, then fired.

The missile tore away in a jet of smoke, racing for the nearby wheeled vehicle in a rush of fire and noise. All three occupants of the foxhole ducked as it slammed into the back of the Dilgar carrier and exploded, punching easily through the armour and igniting the fuel and ammunition within. With a tearing sound followed by a mighty clashing of metal on metal the vehicle vanished in a wall of fire, a brief conflagration followed by a pall of rising black smoke and acrid air. It was scene repeated across the front line, before the swoosh of rockets once more gave way to gunfire.

The leading Dilgar elements fell apart, surprised, stripped of support and faced with concentrated fire they just ran, bolting for the cover of the valley sides or back the way they came. It was a swift victory, one born of massive concentrations of fire and iron discipline, something of an Earth Force trade mark by now. It was also very short lived.

"Second wave!" Lieutenant Fox warned over comms, the battle net now re-established and active. "Fire at will, standby claymores!"

Garibaldi fumbled for the detonator, again each foxhole was responsible for a sector of the defence and that included a number of the hidden explosive charges scattered along the approach. The gunfire picked up again, but this time the Dilgar were responding, advancing steadily and seeking cover while returning the compliment with their blue bolts of charged particles. Unluckily for them the Black Watch had predicted the most likely spots for the Dilgar to hide and set up most of their claymores in the same place.

Garibaldi clicked the detonator three times and was rewarded by a series of sharp cracks, the explosive charges detonating in the face of several Dilgar squads throwing rocks and bodies through the hair and hailing shrapnel out in bloody swathes.

"Ouch, they really walked into that one!" Bugs jeered. "Tough bastards though, they're still coming!"

The shock of the claymores had gutted the second wave, after less than two minutes the valley floor was full of dead and dying Dilgar complete with dozens of burning vehicles. There hadn't even been time to think.

The Dilgar officers rallied their men, gathered squads from the first and second waves and pushed on with the survivors, screaming at the top of their lungs as they flung themselves into the human gunfire. With little cover and so fuelled by rage that they didn't even bother to dodge, the Dilgar troops were cut down in droves.

After a few hectic minutes it fell silent, all save for the groans of the wounded and the crackle of burning vehicles.

"Damn that was intense." Dom breathed heavily.

"We held them." Garibaldi grinned, smoke rising from the barrel of his rifle. "Way to go people!"

""There's going to be more isn't there?"

"Oh hell yeah, thousands of them." Garibaldi said. "How are we for toys?"

"I only used one missile." Dom said. Five more, and a whole stack of grenades."

"We blew the claymores." Bugs mentioned. "I bet they get a lot closer next time."

"Attention Platoon," The voice of Lieutenant Fox warned. "Third wave on the way."

"Speak of the devil…" Garibaldi began.

"Artillery inbound, take cover." She warned again. "Prepare for enemy armour."

"Damn, its almost like Kitty knows how to fight." Bugs dropped to the floor of the foxhole. "Artillery, armour, cover. He's been watching us too closely."

There was a thud as some Dilgar artillery punched the ground nearby.

"What do they say about imitation being flattery?" Dom asked. "I suppose this is it."

"Just amateurs." Garibaldi dismissed. "We're the global league, and we'll prove it."

"Lot of them out there Sarge." Dom said. "I'm not sure we can beat them."

"If it comes down to it I'll grab a crowbar from the stores pile and take 'em all myself." Garibaldi said firmly. "I could do it now, but you guys came all this way for a fight, wouldn't be fair for me to have all the fun."

"See, who else has a Sarge this generous and thoughtful?" Bugs asked.

The foxhole was showered by sand after a near miss.

"We'll see the end of this day." Garibaldi stated. "Just do your job, keep your trigger warm and stick with me. They haven't got a chance!"

Command Post.

Francis watched open mouthed as the Mushroom clouds expanded into the sky, never in his wildest dreams imagining he'd actually see multiple nuclear explosions with his own eyes.

"Things are getting out of control." Biek stated simply as he watched the clouds too.

Francis considered that something of an understatement. The command truck rocked on its suspension as something exploded nearby, the frequency of the shocks reaching a point where Francis didn't have time to worry about them anymore.

"They're going all out now to destroy us, they know we're pulling back." The General guessed. "They're ready to take massive casualties to beat us, the Warmasters have them well trained and motivated."

Several more detonations rang outside, drawing the General's attention.

"That was different."

"Different sir?"

"Artillery, not bombs or missiles. We're in range of the enemy guns. They are close than I expected."

Francis did not need to hear that, never the less he focused on his duty, working frantically on the communication system to boost the signal enough to contact someone outside the atmosphere.

"Lieutenant, where are the Markab?" Biek demanded.

"Sir, they aren't pulling back."

"I gave them an order."

"Yes sir, but they say retreat is not allowed by their gods."

Biek closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Great."

"They're going to hold their ground, and either have victory or be permitted to enter the afterlife in glory."

"They're all going to die." Biek stated grimly. "But they will tie down a big chunk of the Dilgar forces, enough to buy us time on that flank."

"The rest of our forces are falling back on schedule."

"Good, but we still need contact with the fleet, Francis?"

"Working on it sir, the jamming is the heaviest I've seen."

"I need news Agent, fast as possible."

"General!" A female voice entered the conversation. "Sir, I can tell you what you need."

Jenny saluted from the doorway, caked in dust from the difficult drive in the open vehicle.

"Captain Sakai, seconded to the Earth Intelligence Agency."

"What do you have Captain?"

"Sir, we just made it down from orbit." She reported. "It's not going well."

"What happened?"

"The Dilgar attacked in far greater numbers than expected." Jenny reported. "Massive force sir, the fleet is giving them hell sir but we're taking major losses."

"Can they hold orbit?"

Jenny shook her head.

"How long?" Biek asked.

"An hour at best." She stated. "Probably less."

Biek turned his attention back to the maps. "Not long enough to complete the withdrawal."

"Even if we do sir, with the ships they have up there the defence grid won't hold for long." Jenny continued. "They'll have full orbital dominance before the end of the day."

"Doesn't matter where we go then." Biek mused. "We can't get off the planet, we can't fight their ships from down here. We have one chance and only one to survive. We need Hamato."

Jenny stood stiffly. "Sir, we have heard nothing from the main fleet."

"With the jamming it's no surprise." Biek said. "But if they fleet doesn't show up and prevent the Dilgar from achieving orbit in the next hour or so, we'll be finished."

"Actually General, if I may speak." Major Strylek raised his voice. "There is another choice."

Biek focused on the Balosian Liaison. "Go ahead Major, at this point I'm willing to accept any suggestions."

"You can follow our example. Retreat underground."

Jenny and Francis shared a look as they ran the idea through their heads, both breaking out into a smile.

"Sir, with respect that's it!" Jenny supported.

"We go underground?"

"Yes sir, it allowed a vast portion of the Balosian population to survive all this time, it protected them from years of Dilgar occupation and attacks!"

"I assure you General the caverns of my world are protection against the heaviest attacks." Strylek said. "They have survived multiple mass driver impacts, orbital strikes are useless against them."

"What about supplies?"

"There is a whole ecosystem there." Strylek said. "Enough to support billions, your soldiers would not strain it."

"Where are the entrances to these caves?" Biek asked quickly, accepting the idea.

"Everywhere, even on the plains. Your field armies can just melt away." Strylek answered. "I have scouts with most of your forces, they can easily direct them to safety."

"What about our weapons?"

"Some entrances are big enough for tanks and trucks. You can bring some with you, whichever are closest."

"Sir, this is our best choice." Jenny added. "We can go to ground, wait for the Admiral to attack on his own timetable and not rush into battle."

"My soldiers have held these caves since the invasion." Stryler said proudly. "The Dilgar will not survive an attempt to follow us."

There was a sudden loud burst of static from the console Francis was working on, and then a slight whine as a channel cleared and went active.

"Wow!" He cheered up. "I actually did it!"

"Did what?" Jenny asked.

"I bounced a signal off a Dilgar jamming ship, I figured I couldn't beat them so I turned their own transmitters to work for us! I piggy-backed a signal through the jammer, we've got a channel to the fleet!"

"Well Mister O'Leary," Biek grinned. "You might be worth what the EIA pays you after all."

A crackling voice filtered through the speakers.

"Anyone on this channel? I say again, respond on this channel."

"This is Danny Boy receiving." Francis answered. "Transmitting sub channel ID."

"Code confirms." The voice replied. "This is Hannibal, report."

"We got all the way through to Admiral Hamato." Jenny said. "Way to go Francis."

"Hannibal this is Archangel," General Biek took over. "Status is dire, enemy forces present in greater force than expected. We are losing ground and I am being forced to withdraw to a defensive position. Evacuation impossible, over."

There was a pause before the voice returned. "What is the situation in orbit, over?"

Jenny stepped forward. "This is Broadsword, estimate fifty percent casualties and rising, over."

"In which fleet, over."

"Both fleets, I say again, both fleets."

There was another long pause. "Message received and understood, my ETA is three hours."

"Negative Hannibal, enemy ships present in very heavy force, seven thousand plus, over."

"Confirm that number Broadsword."

"Seven thousand, confirmed personally, over."

"Our intelligence said they had two thousand at best."

"Sir, this is Danny Boy." Francis spoke. "We got it wrong sir. Badly wrong."

"Understood." Hamato replied. "We won't leave you vulnerable to attack, over."

"This is Archangel, we have a fall back plan. We are retiring under ground."

"Say that again Archangel?"

"We are joining the Balosians under ground." Biek repeated. "We have supplies and cover to last indefinitely, over."

"Are you sure about this, over?"

"Affirmative Hannibal. Don't risk a rescue sir, don't rush in. we'll be safe and waiting. Over."

"Received and understood." The voice of the Admiral said flatly. "Proceed at your discretion. Good luck, Hannibal out."

The channel closed.

"That's it then." Biek stated with finality. "Send out the orders, all units will follow Balosian scouts into cover beneath the surface. Hold the passages until further notice."

"I will contact my people in the underground cities." Strylek headed for the door. "Tell them to prepare for you."

"Thank you Major." Biek said. "Sincerely."

"We are in this together now General." Strylek nodded. "Besides, we welcome new company!"

He darted out of the command truck, tail following as an after thought.

"Pack up Francis." Biek said. "Get out of here."

"Yes sir."

"Lieutenant Zarina." Biek called for his detachment commander.

"General?" the tall Russian female reported to the door of the truck.

"Escort Mr O'Leary underground."

"Yes sir."

"Captain Sakai, I suggest you go too."

"Yes sir."

Francis picked up his personal computer and bundled up his possessions in his arms. "Are you joining us sir?"

"In time." Biek nodded. "I'll need to co-ordinate the withdrawal from here first."

"I should stay and…"

"Out Mister O'Leary." Biek commanded firmly.

"Yes sir."

"Good work by the way." The General nodded. "Copy our conversation to the fleet when you get clear in case Hamato didn't get through, then get well underground and try to keep a link to Hamato and fleet command."

"I will sir."

"Good luck Mister O'Leary, see you in the caverns."

He ran out of the command truck and followed Jenny at a brisk trot, the air still thrumming with low flying aircraft and explosions. Ahead he was glad to see the open topped truck with Paul standing beside it.

"Francis! Good to see you again!" The Freight Captain shouted. "Why do you pick the worst spots for reunions?"

"Get in." Jenny got behind the wheel. "Less talk, more flee."

She floored the pedal and skidded to a start on the rocky sand, behind her two trucks of Russian soldiers following under Zarina's command.

"Where are we heading?" Paul asked.

"There is a cave marked on our maps." Francis said as they bumped along. "I've uploaded it, putting it on the Nav system!"

"Got it." Jenny saw the map appear on the windscreen before her. "Pretty close."

A trio of Thoruns shot overhead, engines screaming as they launched an attack run against a section of the nearby airfield. They were so low and close Francis could feel the heat of their exhaust. He noticed a green chest bouncing at his feet.

"Is this your weapon chest Paul?" he asked.

"My box of guns!" He called back. "I knew we'd need it on this mission, didn't I say we'd need it? Didn't I say we should bring it along?"

"Yeah, yeah." Jenny admitted. "We're in the middle of a disaster but at least you were right."

"Good to keep perspective." Paul nodded with complete sincerity.

She slowed down as the approached the entrance and joined more vehicles and troops filing down. She slotted into the convoy and checked the sky.

"Hope this works." Francis said as they entered the cave, the walls and roof reverberating with the growl of a dozen tanks ahead of them.

"Me too." Jenny agreed, switching on the headlights. "Always wanted to visit the Batcave."

"I hate bats." Paul shuddered. "Flying rats, better not have any on this planet."

"Looks like we'll find out sooner or later." She shrugged. "We'll stick together, try to find a communication hub and plug Francis in."

"Sounds painful." The young Agent raised an eyebrow.

"We'll find the General later, first duty is to survive." Jenny informed. "Stay close, I've done this before in much worse conditions."

"Did I mention you are a truly awesome fiancé?" Paul grinned.

"Where did Fiance come from?" Jenny frowned.

"Well I was waiting for a slightly more happy moment." Paul admitted. "But what the hell, do you want to marry me?"

She nearly drove into the back of a tank.

"Actually, tell me later." Paul pointed forward. "Just watch the road!"

"If we get through this." She answered. "Yes. So lets get through this, alright?"

"Alright." Paul nodded with a grin. "Alright, what's the plan?"

"I'll make it up as I go along." Jenny answered. "Trust me."

Paul and Francis shared a look, then in unison shrugged.

Red Platoon

The thunderous roar of artillery had not decreased for nearly an hour, both incoming Dilgar shells and outgoing Earth Force rounds. Not for the first time Garibaldi was glad his sealed helmet was protecting his hearing from the tumultuous metal storm ripping up the valley. In the middle of this crucible of thunder the fighting men and women of both sides scraped under cover and prayed a random shell didn't land directly on them. The clatter of shrapnel and patter of falling earth and sand added different textures to the crack and whiz of explosive shells and whine of occasional mortar bombs.

"This is just getting dumb." Bugs complained. "Since when did the Dilgar have this many shells left?"

"Yeah." Dom agreed. "Intel said they were short on supplies and personnel!"

Garibaldi waited until a deep booming explosion nearby faded before answering. "Don't believe what the intel boys tell you, if they say we're in for light resistance better prepare for the fight of your lives."

"I have thought they only recruited the smartest people?"

"Such a thing as being too smart." Garibaldi observed. "Sometimes you miss what's right in front of your face."

There was another excessively loud crunch followed by a wall of dust that filled the foxhole and forced the helmets to switch to a sensor image of the area for a moment until the air cleared.

"I don't think we've ever been under this much fire before." The Sergeant considered. "Something to note in your diaries."

"I'm just glad they haven't nuked us." Bugs grunted. "Yet."

"Our air defence tanks can shoot down their missiles."

"Shame they can't do something about these shells." Dom said wistfully.

"Too low and too shallow." The Sergeant shrugged. "They're dropping them over the mountains, not enough time to lock on. Plus there's quite a lot of them."

"We noticed!" Bugs laughed hoarsely. "At least we're making them pay for it!"

"Yeah, this is going to be draining their supplies." Garibaldi nodded. "And we're still buying time."

There were several more explosions, then suddenly silence.

"Great, they stopped. Know what that means?" Garibaldi asked.

"Party crashers?" Bugs suggested.

"Better heat 'em up." The Sergeant charged his PPG rifle. "We'll be having company."

As the Dilgar artillery lifted the human guns took a moment to change ammunition, replacing their explosive shells with anti infantry rounds. They raised their gun barrels high to get the best trajectory and waited, the tinny voices of forward fire controllers delivering coordinates and enemy disposition.

The growl of guns was replaced again with the grumble of engines, the Dilgar vehicles approaching at speed and keeping in cover for as long as possible.

"Sounds like a lot of them this time." Bugs considered. "Big attack."

"We held them before." Garibaldi looked around at the bodies and smoking vehicles scattered in pieces across the valley. "What is this, the ninth attack?"

"Pretty sure its number eleven." Dom answered helpfully.

"How are we for weapons?"

"Down to my last missile." He answered. "Six grenades, and about half our PPG caps left."

"And a good old K-bar." Bugs added, tapping the long knife at his waist. "Good for getting in the last word."

"We should have brought a crowbar for the Sarge." Dom grinned.

"I'll use the back end of my rifle." Garibaldi announced simply. "Big, solid and makes a nice sound when it hits something."

Bugs quickly pointed out of the foxhole. "Dust cloud, here they come."

"Controlled fire people." Garibaldi reminded, sliding his rifle into position. "Ammo is valuable, make sure it pays for itself."

Dom readied his rifle, then moved the last Hammer missile closer and propped it up next to him.

"Wait for a good target with that thing Rocket Man." Garibaldi said calmly. "We'll find you a nice eight wheeler to punch. Maybe a command vehicle."

"Fingers crossed Sarge."

"Remember, they're more scared of you than you are of them."

Dom chuckled. "They must be bloody petrified then Sarge!"

"Course they are, they're taking on Sergeant Crowbar!" Garibaldi barked. "Whatever they have it isn't enough. Now get ready, party is about to start."

With a glint of metal the Dilgar vehicles rolled into view, ranks of dark coloured armoured trucks rumbling over the ground and turning up into the valley, almost a phalanx of armour moving steadily towards the spread out Earth lines.

Dom caught his breath. "I'm going to need a bigger rocket."

The valley quickly filled with Dilgar armour, scores of vehicles rising to hundreds as the river of steel poured between the foothills of the pass and gradually began to climb, a moving carpet in the centre of the mile wide aperture.

"That's a lot of trucks." Bugs said. "Damn lot of trucks."

"Yeah, they aren't playing around this time." Garibaldi agreed. "And we already blew our hidden charges and mines."

The hatches on many Dilgar vehicles opened and sprouted armed men, leaning out to add their rifle fire to the turreted guns on the armoured cars. Their large wheels ground on the dirt and dust picking up a pale ring around their rims and billowing pine particles into the air. The formation was a bomber pilot's dream, but unfortunately for the defenders there wasn't a Banshee or Valkyrie for hundreds of miles. They were on their own.

The autoloaders on the Loki Self Propelled guns shut a round into the individual gun barrels, gunners with their sleeves rolled up struggled to move hundred pound shells from supply trailers to the vehicle magazines in the baking heat, the camouflaged and disguised guns making final corrections.

"Number five battery, guns laid!" The Lieutenant commanding the detachment shouted the report. He didn't need to shout but a career in the artillery branch had turned vocal projection into a habit. On the other end of the line Colonel McReady gave his response that was relayed by the gunnery officer.

"All call signs, barrage fire on target! Shoot!"

The big guns belched smoke, hydraulic and magnetic recoil systems cushioning the heavy cases of explosives and bomblets as they roared into the air at supersonic speed. With a slightly visible contrail behind them the hot shells mixed with cool high altitude air before expending their energy and beginning the drop to the ground. These particular shells did not get that far, the proximity fuses in the nose picking up the ground and detonating a few dozen feet in the air, peppering the ground and any Dilgar beneath them with burning hot shrapnel and crackling sub munitions.

The snap of human explosives was reassuring to Garibaldi and his comrades, the sight of airburst shells scouring the tops and sides of the Dilgar vehicles even more so. The Dilgar infantry were rapidly forced to close their hatches and retire back inside their vehicles, dragging the wounded back in with them or simply pushing them out of the hatch. The second volley of shells wasn't far behind, these ones digging into the ground and exploding in plumes of sand and dust. Some of them hit Dilgar APC's and tore them apart on showers of razor sharp steel, or hit near by and flipped them spectacularly into the air. One light vehicle spun four times before crashing down on a neighbour and spilling wounded Dilgar soldiers onto the ground.

Most of them however drove on, speeding up as they moved into less obstructed terrain and focused themselves on the scattered foxholes and makeshift trenches of the defenders. For the fourteenth time that day the battered but steady human forces prepared to meet them.

The Dilgar fired, light shells bursting among the Earth Force positions fired from the leading vehicles. In the same moment the human heavy calibre machine guns engaged, the Brazilian crewed teams using armour piercing incendiary rounds to punch through the Dilgar APC's and ignite the insides.

"Save that missile Dom." Garibaldi ordered, looking for targets. "Check for infantry, don't waste rounds on their armour."

There was a high pitched whoosh and slap of air that ruffled Garibaldi's uniform and kicked up a wave of dust in a line from the EA positions to the Dilgar lines. At the end of the line an APC shattered into pieces, ripped like foil and discarded on the battlefield as a flaming pile of junk. Garibaldi checked over his shoulder and grinned widely as a yellow and blue Thor tank skidded to a halt nearby and settled into a pre-dug depression in the Earth, assuming a well protected hull down position.

The long gun swung to find a new target and fired again, the hyper velocity solid round vanishing downrange and almost instantly hitting another Dilgar armoured vehicle in a flash of light and twisting metal. The tank searched for a new target, along with its sisters McReady had kept them in reserve until they were most needed. This attack apparently counted.

Several shots hit the piled up earth in front of the nearby tank creating a small fountain of dirt but failing to harm the machine behind. In return the Thor launched another sabot round into the packed Dilgar vehicles with satisfying results.

However the tanks were few in number, and while tremendously effective could not stop the rolling tide. Burnt out husks littered the route, smoking ruins that were avoided by following units but largely ignored. Every few seconds another vehicle exploded, but the Dilgar could afford it and now with the humans in sight they were unleashed. The first few APC's pushed down their accelerators and opened the throttles, lunging ahead and bolting for the Earth lines. A few were caught by tank rounds, coring through the front and exiting the back in a storm of wreckage and super heated air but many more pressed on towards the dug in soldiers.

"Okay Dom, I think this counts." Garibaldi decided. "That one, vehicle dead ahead."

The young man picked up the anti tank missile and switched it on, the power bringing it quickly to life and linking it to his battle net. Even as he was still preparing the weapon his helmet sensors were picking out the target, locking its position and uploading the data directly into the seeker of the Hammer missile. By the time it was straight on his shoulder everything was set and Dom just had to push the trigger.

The last missile burst free, flecks of paint flickering away as the dart flew away on a cloud of white smoke. Earth had tried to develop a less smoky missile for use in ambushes, as it was the Hammers smoke trail gave the enemy a clear pointer at the human positions. Unfortunately it hadn't happened yet, though on the positive side the Hammer missile was just about the best hand held anti tank device in the galaxy. Dom's missile found its target, taking a large APC head on. With a warhead designed to beat the best human tanks the Dilgar APC was a bit of a waste of potential, the entire front of the vehicle simply splayed apart like an opening flower, the rear doors ripped off and deposited several dozen yards away in the process. Dom did not spare a thought for the souls within the vehicle or the impossible task of surviving such a hit, he just did his job.

"Check front!" Garibaldi shouted. "Infantry!"

Many of the APC's slid to a halt and began unloading troops right up in front of the regiments position, sometimes barely feet away. It was a fairly sound tactic, though a human mechanised unit would probably not have dropped its troops quite so close. Turnbow ripped into the nearest APC, his machine gun chewing up the back of the vehicle and slamming bullets through the back doors. Not a single enemy soldier made it out alive. Another two or three close by exploded as missiles or tank guns found their targets, scattering debris and bodies in all directions as they went up with sheets of flame and concussion waves rushing outward.

Dom twitched as a couple of blue energy bolts hit nearby, tumbling rocks close to his arm. He returned fire, zeroing in on a Dilgar squad that was crouched down aiming his way. Beside him Garibaldi and Bugs were also firing intensely, the three men swamping the Dilgar soldiers in red plasma. Voices rose in the chaos, the battlefield choked in the black smoke of burning vehicles and white clouds of dust thrown up by wheels and detonations. It was hot, grimy and confusing. Dom's only information was the calmly scrolling reports from his helmet sights and the ghostly green outlines of Dilgar soldiers emerging from the murk of battle.

New sound joined the cacophony, a growing roar that filled the valley and caught Dom's attention.

"Enemy aircraft!" Garibaldi warned. "Down!"

Dom did as instructed, and barely a second later there was a massive explosion, the biggest one he could remember experiencing. It felt as if his brain was being shaken about inside his skull and even in cover with protective gear he was still stunned by the ferocious blast. He barely noticed the strong arm of his Sergeant hefting him up.

"Get with it Dom! Come on!" Garibaldi yelled. "Enemy front! Engage!"

He was still having a hard time getting his bearings, his brain seeming to lag behind.

"Dom! Front!" Garibaldi turned him bodily do he faced the right direction. "Come on! Focus! We don't have time to waste feeling groggy!"

His raised his rifle and fired again, more on auto pilot this time but his training held, and two Dilgar dropped to his shots. Above he saw two more green shapes race past, and felt another more distant explosion at the other end of the line. Laser fire from the air defence tanks crossed the sky, cutting through some of the aircraft and probably some missiles too. A Dart fighter rolled overhead, one wing missing and out of control. It left a thick brown trail of smoke in its wake as it screamed into the side of a mountain.

All the while the artillery banged, tanks fired and PPG's hissed. The whole front line was neck deep in Dilgar and still the enemy attacked, still they pressed on into the human gunfire and still Earth Force held firm.

Several Dilgar were drawing Garibaldi's attention and frustration. They were in cover behind a shredded APC, ducking out to fire on him frequently before hiding again. So far he'd nailed one of them but there were at least three left. He was actively considering whether or not to use one of the remaining grenades when he noticed Bugs next to him yelling.

"Down!"

He didn't stop to ask, he just crouched in the foxhole, Bugs and Dom beside him. It was lucky he did, a moment later the black underside of an APC roared overhead, right over the top of their emplacement before vanishing.

"I owe you." He slapped Bugs' arm.

"That's a crate of Doc Hops when we get home." Bugs climbed up again. "I'll hold you to it!"

As Garibaldi stood he saw the APC which had nearly taken his head off was sliding to a stop less than twenty yards away, its back to them. Already its rear doors were hinging open and a squad of Dilgar troops were prepare to pile out. He didn't stop to debate a plan, he just dropped his rifle, grabbed a grenade and pulled himself out of the hole.

"Cover me!" He called, already out of the foxhole. Bugs and Dom did as asked, laying down full automatic fire to pin any opportunistic enemies.

In his youth Garibaldi had fancied himself as a bit of a baseball player. Like a lot of things it hadn't amounted to much more than a fantasy but it had given him a good throwing arm. He pulled the pin as the doors swung open in front of him, pushed the cap down and with all the poise and balance of a professional pitcher slung the grenade straight into the back of the APC. It sailed clean into the dark interior of the vehicle, bouncing off an inside wall and hitting the floor between the legs of the still crammed in squad. A second later it detonated before the Dilgar even had a chance to panic. A jet of flame and smoke billowed briefly from the back of the APC followed soon after by the pop of ammunition cooking off from the heat and flames inside.

Garibaldi allowed himself a smile. "Strike Three Kitty."

He turned to jump back into the foxhole at the exact same instant as a Dilgar soldier tried to bayonet him in the back, the steel tipped rifle racing for his torso.

Instinct and training took over, the Sergeant acting automatically to deal with the threat. He swerved, avoiding the lunge by a whisker, the steel tipped weapon narrowly missing his uniform and slicing into an empty ammunition pouch on his body armour. He pushed the front of the weapon away with his right forearm and then grabbed the rear with his left hand. He pushed the rifle, ramming it into the stomach of the attacking Dilgar and forced him to step back, then tightened his grip and pulled the rifle towards him.

As expected the Dilgar soldier dug his heels in and pulled back, exactly as Garibaldi hoped. He held for a second and then pushed back, greatly surprising the enemy soldier and ramming the metal and plastic weapon hard into his chest, then snapped it up to connect with the enemies jaw in a crunch of breaking teeth. Unsurprisingly the Dilgar soldier lost his grip and fell backwards to the floor leaving Garibaldi with the rifle. He was about to finish the job when a wild scream snapped his head around.

A second Dilgar trooper swung his rifle like a club at the Sarge, making Garibaldi duck low as the stock of the enemy weapon swept with a rush of displaced air inches from his head. He swung the stock of his own liberated rifle, driving it hard into the new soldiers stomach before side stepping and whipping the muzzle of his weapon down into the back of the opponents knees. The enemy soldier lost his balance, his legs folding backwards over the weapon. Garibaldi kept going, using the rifle like a lever to sweep the Dilgars legs from under him and drop him on the floor. Garibaldi kept the rifle moving, reversing the movement and driving the blade down and into the defeated opponent at his feet.

He had no time to savour his victory, the first Dilgar was back up and had drawn a knife, now rushing towards him. Garibaldi swiftly hammered the butt of the rifle into the enemy soldiers nose, then swung the stock around and caught the soldier just under the rim of his helmet, bending his neck awkwardly. The Dilgar fell to his knees and Garibaldi pressed on, hitting him three more times until the enemy stopped moving.

The effort had left him breathing hard, he was a fit man but this kind of intense hand to hand fighting was tough for anyone. He almost groaned out loud when a third Dilgar lunged at him, making the Sergeant use his acquired rifle to turn the bladed muzzle away. He blocked another attack as the Dilgar swung the rear of his rifle at him, and then locked weapons as his opponent tried to push him off balance. During traiing Earth Force taught its soldiers to fight with quarterstaffs, practice that came in very handy in this sort of rifle to rifle melee. While Garibaldi was sure he would win eventually he didn't really have time to play this one by the book.

He lashed out with a vicious kick to the crotch of the Dilgar soldier, pleased that his alien enemy shared the same weak spot as a human opponent. He then followed with an old fashioned headbutt, crushing the crown of his tactical helmet into the nose of the Dilgar soldier. He was inwardly thankful for the retractable hard visor his helmet was fitted with that protected his face from similar attacks, before pushing the dazed Dilgar soldier back and running him through. He checked around him, saw no immediate enemies, then turned back to the foxhole.

"I said cover me dumb ass!"

"Little busy Sarge!" Bugs shouted back, snapping automatic fire down range into swirling clouds and glimpsed enemies. From through the clouds there was a huge wall of light, the helmet sensors showing a Dilgar flamethrower team burning out one of the neighbouring foxholes. The troops then turned their way.

"You gotta be kidding." Garibaldi moaned as he took his place back in cover.

"I got him." Bugs pulled his rifle tight to his shoulder and took careful aim.

"Those guys look like they have heavy body armour." Dom warned.

"Lobster in a pot." The senior Private grinned. "See this."

He fired three rounds, each one hitting the Dilgar soldier. The last one cut the fuel line from his back mounted tank to his hand held flame projector, spraying pressurized fuel everywhere.

"One order of crispy kitty, table four." Bugs smiled, then fired again.

The super heated shot ignited the fuel, triggering a flash of light as the flammable liquid caught aflame and went up in a bright explosion dousing several nearby enemy soldiers in liquid flame.

"If you're gonna play with fire, you gotta expect to get…"

"Bugs, stop showing off." Garibaldi grunted.

"Yes sir."

"Sergeant Garibaldi." A new voice suddenly announced behind him. The Sergeant spun round and found himself nose to nose with the scaly face of Tisket, the Balosian scout who had joined them.

"Will you stop doing that!" Garibaldi demanded. "It's really freaking me out!"

"Apologies again Sergeant, I bring word from the Colonel. We are to withdraw to the second defence line."

"Right now?"

"Right now Sergeant Garibaldi." The Balosian said calmly, oblivious to the chaos around him.

"Alright then, you heard the man, lets move!" he clambered up and crouched behind the Foxhole. "Reds, Crowbar, fall back to point bravo. Make it snappy."

Garibaldi fired into the haze, providing cover while Bugs and Dom evacuated the hole and took up their own positions a dozen yards further back, scratching what cover they could on the desert floor. As soon as the first rounds began passing his head from his buddies he too began to pull back, Tisket with him. To his left he could hear the familiar chatter of Private Turnbow and the support gun, while on his right there was the growl of a Thor tank reversing under fire, its main cannon and heavy PPG mounts still delivering fire and death into the enemy formations.

Dilgar infantry continued advancing, stating with the human force as it retreated and bringing down several defenders in the process. Earth Force hit back, cutting down the pale uniformed hostiles as they presented themselves, the steady and measured retreat maintaining a thick wall of gun fire to cover themselves and discourage a renewed attack.

"Reloading!" Dom called out, quickly dropping his PPG charge cap and putting another one in the slot, the rifle hissing as it accepted the new fuel cell. "Ready!"

"Reloading!" Bugs took his turn, Dom picking up the burden of covering fire while his buddy changed caps. Dilgar soldiers charged out of nowhere, sensing blood they ran for the retreating humans trying to swarm the position and overrun them. Dom and Garibaldi fired into the enemies at close range, barely feet away and close enough to see the slit like pupils of their victims. Tisket emptied his own weapon into the approaching group, a native made pistol in one hand and thick bladed machete in the other. He alternated between weapons, proving equally lethal at range or up close.

There was a blazing flash of red light that crossed low overhead, a glare that would have been temporarily blinding if not for the visor that protected Garibaldi's eyes. Twin laser beams cut into the Dilgar, burning through three vehicles and severing the bodies of scores of enemy troops. Garibaldi checked the source, finding one of the Uller air defence tanks using its weapons to great affect against the enemy advance. It cleared the area in front of Red Platoon and gave the airborne troops time to breath and recover.

"Keep on it people!" The Sergeant announced. "Form on Foxy, get going!"

They continued to withdraw along with the Black Watch, the various armoured vehicles reversing backwards alongside them. The air defence tank hastily snapped its guns up, the beams piercing the sky and slashing across a low flying Thorun, the thunder of its destruction echoing in the valley. As the Uller was busy taking on the fighter a Dilgar APC unloaded four missiles into it, smashing the armour and tearing apart the air defence vehicle in a gout of yellow flame and heat.

Garibaldi checked the inventory, looking for a member of his platoon with a missile left to handle the APC and coming up blank, the Dilgar vehicle now rushing their way.

"Red Platoon!" He bellowed. "Run for cover!"

With no way to combat the Dilgar APC running was the only option. They bolted for cover, an appealing set of rocks rising several feet high and stretching a few hundred yards across looking like their best bet. They leapt over some low rocks and rounded the cover, coming face to face with a Loki artillery piece.

"Hey, Gropos!" The gun commander roared. "Out of the bloody way!"

They didn't need telling twice, the Platoon split and filtered down either side of the self propelled gun, the barrel depressed to a horizontal position pointing at the edge of the rocky outcropping.

"Load a bunker buster!" The gun commander ordered. "Triple charge, ready manual fire!"

The thick cased shell was driven into the breech, a massive charge of propellant filled up behind it. No sooner was it loaded than the eight wheeled Dilgar vehicle crossed into sight. The APC found itself staring right down the business end of a 165mm BilPro cannon, armed primed and waiting for it.

"Fire!"

The gun jolted back, pushing down on the rear suspension and crashing on its recoil sled, the extra charge pushing the cannon right back to the end of the vehicle. The heavy shell took the APC apart in an instant, leaving nothing larger than a coin scattered over hundreds of yards in a dark fan pattern across the valley.

"What do those tankers know about firepower huh?" The Commander chuckled. "Start her up! Lets get gone!"

The Loki throttled its engine and started to move, its tracks churning up dust and rocks. Before it could move far more Dilgar soldiers began arriving, jumping over the rocks and pouring through to continue the attack.

"Watch yourselves!" Garibaldi barked. "Keep going, faster people!"

Dom fired at point blank into an enemy soldier, kicking a second one and pressing his rifle against his opponents head before firing, so close was the melee. Garibaldi was fighting just as hard, clubbing enemy soldiers or finishing them with gunfire. Further down the line the Black Watch were just as heavily engaged, going hand to hand in many cases and destroying enemy vehicles at point blank range. The nearest tank was covered in Dilgar, the feline soldiers battering the armoured machine ineffectually with their rifles and knives.

"Hold them back!" Garibaldi roared, stamping on a downed Dilgar at his feet. "Do not break!"

They inched back, rifles hot with use and uniforms stained with dust, smoke and blood. They were exhausted but still fighting with as much skill as they could muster. The sun was gone, covered over by black smoke and the only sound was a single blaring noise of explosions, gunfire and cries merging into one single wall of sound. Garibaldi barely noticed the second set of foxholes suddenly appear at their feet.

"We're here!" Dom shouted. "The second line!"

"Find some cover!" Garibaldi shouted. "Get in a hole and fire like hell!"

With clear relief Dom dropped into a pre prepared foxhole, Bugs and eventually Garibaldi joining him. In front Tisket was still tearing into the Dilgar, shooting one, beheading a second and finally sinking his teeth into the neck of a third, ripping through arteries with razor sharp teeth. He screeched a warcry, his reptilian features slick with Dilgar blood and bodies piled at his feet. Wisely nobody else challenged him.

"Crowbar this is Foxy." A calm female voice sounded. "Come in Crowbar."

"Crowbar here, receiving!" Garibaldi replied, discharging a few more rounds at the same time.

"Status?"

"Red Platoon in cover and heavily engaged!"

"Everyone stay down, artillery on the way." Fox informed. "It's coming in very close, watch yourselves."

Garibaldi did as instructed, and three seconds later the rush of parting air announced the barrage, a salvo of heavy shells launched from a couple of miles away dropping down mere yards from the foxholes. The burst among the Dilgar troops, most of them out of cover and exposed on the open ground. The results were horrific, overpressure from the explosions coupled with shrapnel tore through the exposed enemy soldiers, each shot killing or badly wounding dozens. They were so close to the lines Garibaldi could hear the shrapnel pinging from rocks above his head and could feel the hot air rushing past like an open oven door.

It took less than a minute for the job to be done, as soon as the sensors showed no more movement the guns stopped, a final crack of high explosives echoing for a few seconds in the valley before total and utter silence returned.

"Stay down." Garibaldi ordered, then raised his head above the edge of the foxhole.

The scene that greeted him was like a snapshot of hell, the valley was carpeted by dead bodies, literally thousands of Dilgar soldiers sprawled out as the dust kicked up by the battle faded and fell. Over a hundred Dilgar vehicles were burning, most of them knotted around where the front line had been but others spread out singly showing the path of the advance like tidemarks. Among the dead were humans, and one or two Balosian irregulars, but the vast majority were Dilgar.

"Foxy, this is Crowbar. Area clear."

He heard an intake of breath, noting Dom stood beside him.

"Hell of a sight to see isn't it?" The Sergeant said.

"So many dead…" Dom shook his head.

"We've killed more in other battles, just that they are all in one spot here. Bet we wiped out a whole Brigade in that one."

"Think they'll attack again?"

"Course they will." Garibaldi nodded.

"Crowbar, Foxy, reading me?" The Lieutenants voice piped through.

"Loud and clear Ma'am."

"Gather the platoon and report to my position at once." She ordered. "We have new orders."

"Understood." Garibaldi acknowledged and looked at Dom. "Sounds like we got a ticket out of here. Pack it up and move."

They extricated themselves quickly, finding a group of Canadian soldiers ready to take their place in the line.

"Take it easy Kanucks." Garibaldi nodded to the Black Watch troops taking their spot.

"Don't do anything stupid airheads." A Canadian Corporal replied.

Garibaldi led them further back, crossing a mortar pit and coming up on the command post, Lieutenant Fox and Colonel McReady waiting for them.

"Nicely done Sergeant, your Platoon fought well." The Colonel approved. "I'd swear you into the Watch after that performance, but it seems there are other plans."

"We established a link to Battalion." Fox stated. "We have orders to withdraw and link up with the rest of the 99th."

"The whole army is on the move." McReady stated. "Going underground."

"Where sir?" Garibaldi frowned.

"Underground." Fox repeated. "Where's Tisket?"

"Here Lieutenant." The Balosian emerged from cover, as always virtually undetectable.

"Our forces are entering the underground caverns of your people." Fox said. "They can protect us from orbital strikes, we have orders to get under as quickly as possible."

"There are many caves nearby, we can slip away very quickly." Tisket informed. "My people have a checkpoint nearby underground, a defence post."

"That's what we make for." Fox confirmed. "Can you lead us down now?"

"When you are ready." The Balosian agreed.

"Do we need to coordinate a fall back action Ma'am?" Garibaldi asked.

"No need." McReady answered instead. "The Black Watch is staying."

Lieutenant Fox nodded. "The orders are just for us."

"This pass must still be held while the rest of the Army finds safety." The Colonel stated simply. "If we retreat it could cost tens of thousands of lives."

"Sir, if I may." Garibaldi spoke. "If the army is retreating, there isn't going to be any support, no reinforcements, no armour or air cover."

"I am aware of that Sergeant." McReady nodded. "We're on our own. Thin Tartan line."

"Sir…"

"The orders are clear, we're going to hold this ground as long as possible." McReady said with finality. "You were a great help, all of you, now go and help someone else."

Garibaldi could argue no more. "Sir, your Regiment is the finest I've fought alongside."

McReady nodded with a smile. "Appreciated Sergeant, Lieutenant."

"Alright Platoon, lets go." Fox ordered. "Tisket, lead the way."

They began to move out, Garibaldi offering a final salute to the Colonel who returned it.

"On your way Sergeant." McReady reached for an item beside him. "Call this a souvenir."

He tossed Garibaldi a crowbar, one from the supply stores.

"I heard the story Sergeant. Use it well."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi stuck the iron bar in his webbing. "For the Watch Colonel."

"Good luck Sergeant, and make sure the Dilgar don't have it all their own way."

Orbit

The four missiles spiralled through the void, swerving around thousands of tons of junk and hot gas as they honed in on their target. One fell to a point defence gun, another was picked off by a passing fighter, but two of them survived long enough to bury themselves into the dark grey side of their target and explode in a haze of white.

General Hernandez swore quietly, massaging the muscles in his neck and trying to ease the growing discomfort. He didn't complain, it was an insignificant injury compared to the violence on all sides.

"Direct hit amidships!" Commander Horowitz squeaked. "Hull breached in three places!"

"Seal the area!" Hernandez grunted. "What happened to our cover?"

"Neck deep in fighters and missiles sir." The Comander answered. "Our defences are getting saturated!"

He was slightly surprised it hadn't happened earlier. The interceptors on the Earth Force ships had acquired something of a legendary status among the League for their supernatural effectiveness and accuracy. Hamato had not corrected this, it helped to provide an image of invincibility when fighting an opponent as effective as the Dilgar, but in truth the interceptor grids had their limits and while a whole fleet of them could keep firing for a long time sooner or later they were going to start wearing out, especially when faced with such odds.

"Sir, we just lost the Sherman!" Horowitz cut in, voice strained and anxious at the sudden news.

Hernandez saw the image on one of the scanners, the Nova class ship breaking up in slow motion before his eyes. Millions of tons of armour drifted slowly apart, the decks belching flame as the ships oxygen vents and pipes emptied into space.

"Assign the Borodino to cover the gap." He said plainly, not displaying his emotions at the loss of the mighty warship.

"Sir, Borodino is reporting heavy damage to all systems."

"Aren't we all Commander?" Hernandez grunted. "The order stands, get her into formation to cover the line."

The wounded warship moved past the debris of her sister, taking position where the Sherman had been and engaging the Dilgar Dreadnought group that had recently put paid to the Earth Dreadnought. With her first salvos she brought down a veteran Mishakur and earned a measure of retribution, then braced for a counter attack.

The Earth Forces had been pushed right back to orbit, a painful retreat that had cost them many ships. The sky was littered with Dilgar hulks torn asunder by Hernandez, but there were still many, many more waiting to attack the human lines. Earth Force did not have such numbers. They had stayed in formation, they hadn't broken or panicked and had forced the Dilgar to advance slowly and cautiously, but there was little doubt in anyone's mind about where this battle was going. It was just a matter of time before they ran out of ships.

One thing which did lift spirits however was the new addition of the defence grid to the battle. The fleet had withdrawn so close to the planet the pre-deployed satellite based weapons could now add their weight to the action. They were simple devices, a poor and cheap copy of the larger more menacing satellites installed above Alliance worlds designed to be portable rather than permanent. However they were well provided with missiles, interceptors and plasma cannons and helped take the pressure off the battered Earth Fleet, giving them room to breathe and reorganise.

"Fresh contacts ahead, twenty capital ships closing!"

"I need firing solutions now!" General Hernandez snarled. "Lock on main batteries, fire at will!"

The guns of the Dreadnought ripple fired, blasting laser energy for a second or two before pausing. Hernandez would have preferred to just cut through everything in his path but resources were becoming a major issue, he just didn't have the stores to unleash that sort of destruction anymore.

A small group of heavy cruisers joined the Tirpitz, delivering charges of plasma on target, blasting and melting their way through the Dilgar ships and ripping the enemy formation apart. Several enemy warships collapsed under the barrage, the rest decided to fall back and try again later.

"That bought us a few more minutes." Hernandez said. "But we can't keep it up for long."

Waves of Dilgar fighters engaged with impunity across the line, slashing into undefended ships and overwhelming the dwindling numbers of Starfuries left in service. They were growing more bold, pushing their attacks deeper into the human formation and reaping the results. Nuclear detonations wracked local space, smashing through the thick armour and crippling human warships if not outright destroying them.

Waves of missiles roared past the Earth Force ships and towards the Dilgar, passing between wrecks and swirling clouds of smoke and iced gas in their wake. They caused the Dilgar ships immediately in front of them to take evasive action, stuttering pulsar guns at the incoming cylinders and redeploying local fighters to intercept them. Most were destroyed, but several made it through and embraced their targets in a hot nuclear glow.

"Enemy ships withdrawing from sector three." Horowitz reported. "They're backing off from the missiles."

"Call up the task force, we're going after them." Hernandez said simply.

"Sir?"

"I said we're going to attack, the rest of the fleet will hold, we're going to give these kitty cats a bloody nose. Power up engines and get us on the move!"

"Aye sir." She acknowledged. If they were going to get blown up in this battle at some point it might as well be on the attack.

The Dreadnought rumbled forward, a selection of cruisers and frigates answering the call to join it. Still recovering from their evasive actions the Dilgar ships before them were out of formation and unable to mutually support each other. They didn't know what to do, none of them had expected human ships so heavily outgunned and outnumbered to actually attack into the massive Dilgar fleet. By the time they regained control of their ships and started closing up the gaps in their deployment it was too late and Hernandez was among them.

"Multiple targets locked, guns primed."

Hernandez nodded. "Shove it down their throats."

The task force cut into the heart of the Dilgar formation at high speed, firing in all directions at the still confused and recovering enemy ships. The close ranged fire was lethal, laser cannons piercing deep into the hulls of the green clad cruisers while plasma fire boiled and crushed its way into the vitals of their opponents. They didn't slow down to finish the crippled ships, pressing on to avoid becoming a stationary target, lighting their way with discharged energy from their main guns.

"Make a turn, take us behind the Dilgar front line." The General ordered. "We'll hit them from the rear while they're distracted."

"General, sir I'm getting a message!" Horowitz suddenly called out. "Very faint, but… sir, it's Admiral Hamato!"

"Well it's about damn time." Hernandez grunted. "Patch it through."

The damaged speakers were faint and the signal almost buried in static from the jammers, but as the voice came through it was the most angelic sound anyone could wish to hear.

"This is Hannibal to Balos fleet, I say again, respond, over."

"This is Tirpitz Actual, damn it's good to hear your voice."

"Tirpitz, likewise. Where is Zhukov, over?"

Hernandez curled his lip slightly. "Zhukov is code black. I have assumed command. Over."

"Understood." Hamato said flatly. "I have new orders. Commence immediate withdrawal. Respond."

Hernandez looked up to Horowitz, who was gazing back wide eyed.

"Did he just say that?" The General asked.

"Yes sir, he did."

"This is Tirpitz actual, confirm you are ordering a withdrawal, over?"

"Confirmed. Ground forces have a contingency plan. Get out of there Tirpitz, I say again, fall back at once."

He bit his lip and nodded. "Orders confirmed, we're pulling out."

He cut the channel. "Do you believe this?"

"We're running." Horowitz said dryly. "He's not coming for us."

"We bled to buy time for help to arrive!" Hernandez snapped. "Now we're evacuating!"

"What shall I do sir?" she asked in a slightly plaintive tone.

"What we have to." Hernandez answered gruffly. "Issue the orders, all ships jump at once."

"See there?" Jha'dur pointed to a section of the tactical display. "That small force, it launched a counter attack! Six ships and they counter attacked against six thousand. Can you believe it Captain?"

"Frankly Warmaster nothing surprises me anymore."

Jha'dur grinned. "I can still be surprised. I plan for this, I expect it, yet it still surprises me when it happens. This is real war Captain, this is what is supposed to happen."

"We've lost a lot of ships, well over a thousand and still climbing."

"We can afford them, and look at how they died. Magnificent. They met a worthy fate, and how few can really say that?"

Several more Dilgar ships were cut out of the sky, clawing down a Hyperion cruiser with them in the process. The action had grown even more intense, even more close ranged as the human ships drew an imaginary line in space and retreated no more. Jha'dur was throwing ships into battle incessantly, but the humans had narrowed their front, using the planet and one of the moons to anchor their flanks and remove some avenues of attack. It didn't really matter to her, she threw ships at them from front and back, top and bottom, massive numbers that fought and burned and crashed and died. It was glorious to watch.

"These six ships." She tapped the display, focusing on the Tirpitz battlegroup. "They tell me all I need to know. The odds don't matter to them, they saw a weakness and exploited it, killed more of my ships than they could possibly lose themselves. They looked at an enemy that outnumbered them a thousand to one, and they attacked. Savour that bravery Captain, remember it. One day it will be gone from the galaxy and I pray our race can rise to that level of purity."

"I will Warmaster."

Jha'dur nodded. "Very good. They have advanced beyond support of their fleet, cut them off, surround them, and destroy them entirely. Don't underestimate them."

"Assigning forces now." An'jash followed the orders. "Dreadnought group six is…" She paused. "A human ship just jumped out, and another!"

"They are withdrawing?" Jha'dur asked with a frown.

"Yes Warmaster!" An'jash broke into a wide grin. "They are retreating!"

"Oh." Jha'dur sank into her chair, not sharing the jubilance. "Well that's a disappointment."

Singly or in small groups the remaining Earth Force ships left Balos, opening jump points long enough for the smaller frigates and corvettes to withdraw before following. One or two ships didn't make it, destroyed before they could enter the vortex or suffering catastrophic engine failure brought on by battle damage. The sky filled with gold, warm welcoming lights beckoning the wounded and ravaged ships into the red void of hyperspace and the path back home. Worn, torn and weary the crews did as they were ordered, many did not like it, they left friends behind unavenged and allowed the Dilgar to reclaim what had long been fought for. They cursed Hamato for not rushing to their aid, for sending to few ships, and they cursed the Dilgar for their deception.

Space began to empty, to return to the darkness and quiet.

With a bang the lights went out, throwing the bridge into complete darkness. After a few seconds one or two consoles came back to life and gave the ships control centre an eerie, ghostly illumination.

"Jump drives?" Hernandez asked.

"Charging sir!" Horowitz yelled back over the thunder of impacts transmitted through the metal hull. "We had to take them offline to feed the weapons!"

"Transfer power from guns to the jump engines!"

"Sir, without our guns…"

"Just do it Commander! Now!"

The grey warship fired a last volley at its closing attackers, and then went silent. Beside it the cruisers vanished into hyperspace, leaving a trail of gunfire in their wake to discourage pursuit, drawing in the last few Starfuries before the tunnel closed behind them.

"Enemy concentrating on this location!" Horowitz cried. "Six Dreadnoughts!"

"Get those engines online people." Hernandez ordered. "Time is an issue."

The hull buckled and cracked as the Dilgar ships surrounded the human Dreadnought pounding it mercilessly. Plumes of flame rose from the shattered hull plates and gas poured out into the freezing vacuum, crystalising like a thin veil of ice trailing the hard pressed warship.

"Almost ready!"

"Open a jump point the second the lights come on!" Hernandez had to shout above the constant thump of impacts, simply amazed his warship hadn't crumbled under the attack.

He checked the main map again, seeing all his surviving ships were out of the system leaving nothing but Dilgar ships in every direction. "We're gonna be coming back." He said, partly to himself and partly to the massive fleet glaring arrogantly at him. "You think you've seen what we've got? We haven't even started."

"Online!" Horowitz yelled. "Jumping!"

The orange vortex blossomed open, by pure chance the edge of the swirling energy catching a Dilgar ship. It ripped the enemy vessel in half, one last reminder that even in defeat Earth Force had teeth. Then, with a last blast of ions the Tirpitz left, the final human vessel still able to do so.

But she was not the last allied ship.

"That's her." Commander Kanos said in certainty, the Balosian officer narrowing his eyes. "Deathwalker."

The Seffensa hung dark and silent in the shadow of a smashed Nova Dreadnought, the bulk of the wreck and the mass of enemy hulks nearby shielding it from casual detection. They had fought until their fleet was ruined, their ship gutted and their allies driven out by sheer force of numbers. Kanos respected the humans, they had fought well for a planet that was not their own and now faced an impossible task when it came to rescuing their soldiers trapped on Balos. He wished them well, but was not hopeful.

"Dilgar fleet is moving on sir." The First officer stated. "They are passing by our position."

"Wait." Kanos said. "Wait until she passes."

Slowly they watched the Dilgar ships file past towards the planet, waiting for the command group to move into range. Jha'dur had hung back from the fighting, safe on her advanced warship away from the thick of the fighting. She was of course more than willing to engage in combat alongside her warriors, and confident in her crew and their prowess, but she also knew a commanders place was at a distance running the intricacies of war and fleet interactions. With the battle won she now advanced to take control of the situation on Balos itself, passing right into Kanos' ambush.

"Prepare to activate all systems." He ordered quietly. "Full speed on my command."

He was one ship against an armada, there was nothing he could do to stop them, but if he could do this, if he could defeat the Deathwalker, then it would be the crowning glory of the Balosian navy, its last and its greatest achievement.

"We have walked the path a long time brothers and sisters." Kanos said, watching the yellow and black Dilgar flagship pass by his hiding place. "Our path doesn't go beyond here. It has led us home so our souls may glimpse Balos as they fly to our ancestors. That alone is reason enough for us being here. With have killed many enemies, participated in the greatest hunt of our time. Now we go to share our tales with our ancestors. And what stories we will tell." Kanos smiled widely. "What stories."

Jha'dur scrolled quickly through the data, noting that the ground forces on Balos all said the same thing.

"Heavy resistance." She read. "What were they expecting exactly?"

"I believe Warmaster, that our ground commanders expected the humans to break and run when they came under heavy attack and lost their fleet support." An'jash answered helpfully. "I would assume they did not read your report."

"I would be inclined to agree." The Warmaster grunted. "For their sakes I hope they have the sense to eat a plasma bolt before I arrive. I thought we'd weeded out this sort of ignorant commanders?"

"It appears we missed a few Warmaster."

"This is Earth Force for heavens sake, back them into a corner and they just fight so much harder." She shook her head. "Nothing to lose anymore, but they can still hurt us and they have. I'd like to speak with the top three army commanders. Privately. In Lab Nine."

"I will arrange it Warmaster."

"Sitting here on Balos has made them weak, promote one of the Generals we brought in from the Drazi front to command the ground campaign."

"I think I have the officer, may I suggest Warleader Ho'fren of the Sixth Army, he is responsible for destroying four full Drazi armies on Tithalis and…" She broke off as an alarm suddenly clanged. "Enemy ship dead astern! Balosian!"

"Type and heading?" Jha'dur asked.

"Heavy cruiser, she's on a collision course!"

"Hard about, combat turn!" Jha'dur snapped, quickly calculating how much time she had before impact. "Main guns fire, full charge!"

The Sekhmet swung about on its bow, a turn that held more to fighter tactics than capital ship combat. Her gravitic engines thrummed loudly as they slipped through the grip of space and brought the nose of the ship to face the Seffensa. In that second she fired. Twin laser beams shone from the bow guns, each one far more powerful than any single mount on an enemy ship, eclipsed only by the giant Hyach spinal lasers. The Seffensa, old, weakened and battered by constant fighting could not withstand the strength of the attack. She exploded brightly, pieces of wreckage leaving a trail of light and fire as the fluttered away from the dying ships, spreading to the far corners of the home system.

"The Balosian flagship." Jha'dur said softly. "Brave of them."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Resume course, detach fighters and clear away those damn human satellites and give me orbital dominance."

"At once Warmaster."

"The humans won't go far, not with people on the planet. They'll be back." Jha'dur smiled. "Then we'll make history together."

The valley echoed and shuddered as Dilgar Armour turned into the pass and began to approach yet again, grinding over the wreckage and bodies of the earlier assaults.

"They don't get the message do they sir?" Major McIntyre lowered his binoculars.

"Tenacious little buggers alright." McReady agreed. "Plenty more this time."

"Smart money says they'll feed whats left of the Division in this time." McIntyre stated. "Six to eight thousand is my guess sir."

"Against just over four hundred of us." McReady said flatly. "At least we know we got their full attention."

Large numbers of armoured vehicles proceeded into the valley again, scattered waves of soldiers darting on ahead of them scouting for traps or hidden soldiers.

McReady opened a box in the command post and from it retrieved a shining sword, a basket hilted Claymore he had been given as part of his ceremonial dress uniform after passing officer selection decades ago. He turned the immaculate weapon over in his hand a few times before looking back up.

"As good a place as any for a last stand."

"Aye sir, that it is."

McReady jammed the sword into the ground, the tasselled hilt wavering back and forth as the blade held into the sand.

"No one retreats behind this point." He pointed at the sword "No Dilgar will lay his hand on that blade while one us still draws breath!"

"I'll pass the word sir." The Major confirmed, setting the last orders into the battle net.

McReady picked up his rifle, checking its charge with an approving grin. "Might as well do my bit on the front."

"Sounds a good idea sir."

"Still got those pipes handy Major?"

McIntyre laughed and picked up his Tartan clad bagpipes decorated in the regimental colours. "Still in one piece sir."

Puffs of artillery exploded in the valley, kicking up clouds of dust and smoke that began creeping along in front of the Dilgar advance.

"Stay up here Major and give the boys and girls a tune to fight to."

"Be a pleasure sir."

"Auld Gaul Jack, old tunes are the best."

Further away Red Platoon descended below ground, led into the dark and into safety by the very people they were supposed to be freeing from their refuge beneath the earth. Garibaldi was the last, counting his comrades past him and making sure everyone was accounted for. He paused before joining them, staring into the valley at the Black Watch and the massive odds they were taking on to buy time for their comrades up on the plateau. This was a defeat, there was no other way to describe it, but while Earth Force was on the run and giving the battle field to the Dilgar the spirit of the human soldiers was not broken. They still faced their enemies, still fought them, and would continue the battle until every Dilgar in the Balosian system was dead, or every human.

The smoke and dust rolled through the valley like a white fog, obscuring the floor from sight and blanketing everything in a warm cloud. The last thing Garibaldi sensed before heading underground was the melancholy call of the pipes, both sad and defiant echoing through the mountains as the Black Watch made their stand. Heard by ally and enemy alike the haunting sound was transmitted throughout the system, just one of many sounds heard that day but by far the most memorable and searing. The battle lines had collapsed, the air force was gone, the Navy was shattered and in a small valley between the mountains the piper of the Black Watch played a last lament as the world fell about him and the mists closed in.


	86. Chapter 86

84

EarthDome

Geneva

The clock was a genuine antique, a piece of history hand carved from wood grown naturally in a forest somewhere, cut with actual bladed axes and polished with real varnish. Its insides were made from brass and the mechanism was formed from cogs and gears that were powered by springs. It had no digital displays, no power source or uplink to an atomic clock to keep accurate time. It had a pendulum, it needed to be wound up by hand every day, and right now it was the only sound in the presidential office. A dull, loud, muffled tick that pounded like thunder.

President Dieter Hauser had nothing he wanted to say. His mind was full of words, jumbling and jumping around inside his head, a snow storm of language battling to be heard, but his mouth would not move, his voice would not sound, the words would not form into sounds. There was a broken connection, a failed wire somewhere inside and it just cut his ability to communicate dead. The three men stood before his desk were also uncommonly quiet, also trying to find a way to keep talking. Words were so easy to create, communication with friends and colleagues so easy and taken for granted that when it failed, when it did not work, it had an impact far greater than could be expected. The only thing more powerful than words was their absence.

He turned from his desk and gazed out of the window, needing to find the open space and lose himself in the world outside for a few moments, to escape and gain some clarity and freedom. Geneva was enjoying a warm July day, pleasant but not baking. Couples walked barefoot on the grass, children ran up slides and swung on bright metal climbing frames while beyond the lake itself was busy with pleasure craft.

He followed the path of a bright red sailing boat as it cut through the small waves, its brilliant white sail catching a slight mountain breeze and propelling it elegantly along. It was timeless, something artists captured for centuries no different now than it was then. It was constant, a never changing facet of humanity. People enjoyed themselves, they had fun and they shared it. As far as the eye could see people were having a good time and making it matter, everywhere except this one room.

The clock continued to tick.

"Mr President, General Hernandez managed to bring his surviving ships to Comac and our base there without incident." General Denisov broke the heavy silence stiffly. "The Dilgar did not pursue, he's linked up with the main fleet."

Hauser turned his head back into the room, to the figures of General Denisov, Director Durban and Secretary Brogan all stood before him like errant school children before a headmaster. They were among the most powerful men in the Alliance, making them among the most influential persons in the whole galaxy. Yet they did not look confident or powerful right now. They looked shaken.

"The Dilgar retook Balos." Hauser repeated the only news that really counted.

"Yes they did Mr President, but at great cost."

"Great cost." He repeated. "Not as great as the cost to us."

Denisov shifted his weight. "Sir, the kill to loss ratio was heavily in our favour, our ships…"

Hauser slammed his fist hard on the desk with a crack, shaking a pitcher of water on the table.

"I don't care about ratios!" He roared in sudden erupting fury. "We lost Balos! The Dilgar beat us! They drove us back and trapped a quarter of a million soldiers behind enemy lines!"

It took a long moment for anyone to step up to the Presidents fury.

"Mr President," Durban spoke quietly. "This is a defeat, but…"

"Defeat?" Hauser snapped. "This is an absolute bloody disaster!"

"With respect sir, our forces on Balos are still viable and fighting." Durban countered. "They have taken shelter underground and in that sort of defensive position they can hold off any Dilgar assault."

"Our men and women are caught in a rat trap!" Hauser returned angrily. "They are bottled up by the most ruthless people in the galaxy! It is just a matter of time, we all know that."

"We estimate many months sir."

"I'll take those estimates with a pinch of salt if you don't mind."

Hauser sighed and pushed back in his chair, shaking his head but forcing himself to go on. He was the President, no one else was going to be able to deal with it. That was his job alone.

"How many ships withdrew?"

Denisov cleared his throat. "As you may recall Mister President we deployed two full fleets, a thousand ships in total. In addition the Balosians sent…"

"General, how many?"

He lowered his head. "Seventh fleet managed to come home with two hundred and three ships, most of them pretty badly damaged."

"What about Fourth fleet?"

"The Fourth fleet was caught in the open, they took on the entire Dilgar fleet single handed for…"

"General, just tell me, how many ships came home from the Fourth fleet?"

Denisov stood a little straighter. "Sixteen."

The clock ticked in the ensuing dead silence

"Three quarters." Hauser eventually stated. "Three quarters of the ships we sent n. gone."

"Yes Mr President." Durban confirmed. "The Balosians lost every single ship. Just two vessels that were refitting at Earth avoided the annihilation. We lost General Benton, we lost thirty nine Dreadnoughts, and we lost our grip on Balos. Those are the facts."

"Bottom line." The President declared. "How many?"

"Our estimate, and it isn't confirmed." Durban delivered the bad news. "Between Eighty and a Hundred thousand dead."

Hauser wiped his hand over his brow, as if somehow the action would just brush away the worries and soul wrenching terror of accepting this loss. It didn't.

"I look at you three." Hauser spoke quietly, restraining himself. "I see the head of the Diplomatic Corps, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and the head of our Intelligence Agency, and do you know what I ask?"

The clock ticked in the moment of silence.

Hauser shot to his feet with a yell.

"I ask how the hell you failed to spot ten thousand gigantic warships heading our way!"

"Mr President…"

"People are dead!" Hauser shouted. "How many would be alive if you hadn't screwed up? Tell me!"

Director Durban nodded slowly. "It was a failure of intelligence. We knew the Dilgar were doing something big, a major resource effort. Our intercepts indicated they were massively strengthening their defence grids, there wa sno mention anywhere of a fleet build."

"And yet here it is." Hauser observed.

"Here it is." Durban agreed. "We didn't spot it, I'll take responsibility and tender my resignation as Director of the EIA."

"Not yet you won't, I still need someone I trust and who I know is competent running the EIA." Hauser countered. "I need you to do your job."

"Yes Mr President."

Hauser exhaled a long breath and sat back down, trying to calm himself.

"It happened. We can't go back and change it. So the question is what do we do now?"

Denisov answered first. "It is the opinion of the Joint Chiefs that we counter attack as soon as possible with massive force."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but even with our Expeditionary force and the League survivors, the Dilgar still outnumber us?"

"Outnumber, yes sir. Outgun? No sir." Denisov answered. "The Dilgar surprised us and broke our fleets piecemeal. That can't happen twice. We know whom we are fighting, we know where they are. It'll be a stand up fight."

"Will you lead this attack personally General?"

"No sir, Admiral Hamato is still our best field commander. It is his fleet, he's the best man to control it."

"Hamato's last decision cost us seven hundred ships." Hauser pointed out. "Almost a third of our front line fleet, a quarter of the whole navy!"

"That is true sir."

"Do you still have confidence in his ability to win this battle?"

"Yes sir, more than anyone else in the service."

The president nodded. "This is a military decision, so I approve it on your recommendation. But I am not in favour of it. We can't afford another mistake by this man."

"Yes Mr President." Denisov nodded. "However we have found a potential flaw in the Dilgar plan."

Hauser regarded the General with interest. "What flaw?"

"It has been our main objective since the start of the war to draw the Dilgar into one decisive battle, to force them to send all their ships to one place and then destroy them. The Dilgar have done just that."

Beside him Brogan scoffed. "Careful what you wish for."

Denisov ignored him. "If we destroy this fleet, and it is certainly within our power, then the war would be decided."

"And if we lose, and they destroy our fleet?"

"We have a thousand ships still in Earth base protecting our borders, first rate warships. We have the mothballed reserves that while old are still potent warships. We also have the yards turning out ships at full capacity. We suffered a big loss Mr President, but we will have replacement Cruisers and light ships in service by August, and replacement Dreadnoughts by the end of September."

"We also have an excess of trained crews for them." Durban added. "Recruitment has outstripped available ships throughout the war, we can have the new builds in action two weeks after the paint dries."

"Can our people on Balos last that long?" Hauser asked.

"They might, but we aim to break through before then." Denisov answered. "Our existing fleet should be enough. We've armed all ships with nukes and sent virtually every Nova Fury in the navy out there. In terms of quality and power, that force is unrivalled."

"This is still new to us Mr President." Durban said. "We've never waged a war like this before, never fought so far away against such an experienced enemy. We're still learning, but we are also still holding the advantage."

"What advantage?"

"We can replace any ships we lose, any crews. It will take time but we can afford it. The Dilgar can't. They are running out of resources and territory. If this turns into a war of attrition the Dilgar lose, plain and simple." Durban informed. "That is why Jha'dur did this, that is why she attacked. They are out of options and this is their last chance."

"They are making a good job of it."

"It's Jha'dur Mr President, we didn't expect her to go quietly."

Hauser looked at each of the three men in turn.

"Can we win this war?"

All three of them gave the same answer.

"Yes."

"Very well. I leave this to the experts." Hauser accepted, in some way glad to shift the responsibility. "I will inform the people of this loss."

"It won't happen again Mr President."

"It can't." Hauser stated. "If we lose again it's going to cost us the war."

He dismissed the senior officials and returned the room to silence, just the ticking clock filling the space with its constant and reassuring sound. He closed his eyes and tried to think of a way to explain what had happened to the people of the Alliance.

His words just seemed inadequate.

Balos

"All clear!" Garibaldi raised his hand to Dom.

"Fire in the hole!" the young man shouted, then twisted the detonator.

Staccato explosions filled the deep underground cave network, two dozen demolition charges cracking with chemical energy and shattering the rock face in a rushing roar like a stormy tide battering the sea shore. One of the tunnels behind them collapsed, huge quantities of rock crashing down along a couple of hundred yards of distance. The sound echoed for a long time, filling everywhere with dust for a few minutes before it settled.

"That did the job." Garibaldi emerged and looked over the collapsed rock. "Take them weeks to dig through all that."

"So we don't have to worry about being followed?"

"Not down this tunnel." Garibaldi confirmed. "You'd make a good combat engineer."

Dom shrugged. "I just kinda like blowing stuff up."

"In any other job that would be weird." Garibaldi picked up his rifle and pack. "Come on, lets head back and get some chow."

"About time, I'm bloody starving."

"You're always starving!" Garibaldi quipped. "When I set up my Restaurant I want you to move in next door. I'll never go out of business."

"You want to make a Restaurant?"

"I'm not going to talk about it." The Sergeant said. "You know war movies, they guy who goes on about his family or what he'll do after the war always, always, gets killed."

Dom grinned. "Good point Sarge."

"Did you try my cooking?"

"Once after Tiree." Dom nodded. "It was good."

Garibaldi shot him a look.

"I mean it was the best." Dom quickly corrected. "Ever."

The Sergeant slowly nodded in approval. "Might not happen though. Even if I pack in the army I still like busting bad guys."

"Didn't they kick you out of the Police Academy?"

"One tiny little detail!" Garibaldi grunted.

"A criminal record as long as your arm?"

"I had an eventful childhood!" He defended. "And most of it was self defence. But yeah, no police. I'm thinking private Security."

"Like a Private Investigator?" Dom smiled excitedly. "That would be so cool!"

"We'll talk about it later."

"Crowbar P.I." The young man chuckled. "The cooking detective. That would just be brilliant."

The two men left the tunnel network and rejoined a large cavern, a truly vast edifice three miles long and a mile across with an underground stream running through it. Stalagmites and Stalagtites rose and fell around the cavern, solid spikes of rock slowly growing as drips of mineral rich water ran down them.

The floor was full of movement, mostly human soldiers on foot with the occasional Brakiri or Balosian trooper mixed in attending to their duties. The cavern was lit with yellow artificial lights and some patches of natural glowing algae and moss on the high ceiling giving a blue luminescence to the scene.

While most of the activity was from soldiers on foot there was a respectable number of vehicles making their way across the cavern between the press of people, each one heading for a different hiding place to wait until it was needed. Most were trucks bringing in food or munitions, but there was a decent number of Tanks and fighting vehicles, and even a Valkyrie gunship balanced on the back of a heavy hauler.

Garibaldi and Dom worked their way around the press of bodies and located the local command post, making their way up to what was little more than a desk and a radio.

"Sir, tunnel Fourteen sealed." Garibaldi reported.

"Very good Sergeant." Captain Franklin acknowledged. "As soon as Blue platoon checks in we'll move on to the next section."

It had been surprisingly easy to link up with their parent regiment, though it had taken Red Platoon a day to wind their way through the tunnels and caves to find them. Like the rest of the army the 99th had retreated underground, flowing like water through a grate into the vast expanse of tunnels and caverns that cored through the Balosian crust like an ant hill. So far they had only travelled through the upper caverns, largely empty of life and used to ambush and thwart the frequent Dilgar expeditions sent in to try and root out the surviving Balosians. In time the human and Brakiri forces would descend to the inhabited caves and rest there for a while, but first they had to discourage pursuit.

"Our next checkpoint is five miles away." Franklin said plainly. "We relieve the 18th, wait until the last of the column passes, then blow the tunnel behind us."

"Aye sir."

"There have been no reports of Dilgar following us, but don't take any chances."

"Understood sir."

Franklin nodded. "Draw some more charges from the quartermaster, this time we're sending a real demolition expert with you."

"I feel special sir."

Franklin barked a little laugh. "It's a big tunnel this time, they need it demolished properly. Seems they don't trust us Gropos with that amount of explosives."

"Engineers just love hogging all the fun sir." Garibaldi shook his head.

"Guess they have to get their kicks where they can." The Captain agreed. "Not like they have a real job like we do."

"Very true sir."

Franklin shut the lid on the small computer on the desk and set his dark eyes on the Sergeant.

"I heard Red Platoon had it tough out there."

"Kitty had ideas about getting past us sir." Garibaldi said. "They hadn't really thought it through."

"I downloaded the Platoon records, it got pretty hairy up there."

"Yes sir, yes it did."

"Red Platoon conducted itself in line with the best traditions of the Regiment." Franklin said calmly. "I want you to know I'm putting each one of you forward for the Silver Star."

Garibaldi smiled a little. "Quite an honour sir."

"You people earned it, not the first time your platoon has been in the thick of things."

"Bad habit sir, we're trying to break it."

"It was a hard day Sergeant, we all took some hits." Franklin shared quietly. "Lot of people didn't make it down here, lot of people stayed behind so the rest of us could survive. Do you know why?"

Franklin let the question hang.

"So we can go back up there and finish the job." He Captain stated. "There's only one way off this rock, and that is to tear through the Dilgar lines and fight our way clear. We've got a chance to do that now."

"Yes sir."

"Make sure everyone knows Sergeant. We'll be getting some payback for this."

Garibaldi nodded his acknowledgement of orders, then went to link up with his comrades and Lieutenant Fox, Dom trotting up alongside.

"Silver Star huh?" The young man considered. "That doesn't suck."

"After all we've been through it doesn't really count for much." Garibaldi dismissed. "We were supposed to get one for surviving Tirrith, that never happened."

"Bureaucracy I guess."

"Maybe, or maybe it just sounded nice at the time and they forgot about us the day after."

They half walked, half slid down a rocky outcrop and continued on their way, dodging between vehicles that echoed in the enclosed space.

"Important thing is we got to live through it." Garibaldi remarked. "That's worth a hell of a lot more than any medal."

"Gotta agree with that Sarge."

"You got a family back in England?"

"Ireland Sarge." Dom answered. "And yeah, mum and dad, few brothers and sisters."

"How many?"

"Eight."

Garibaldi stopped. "Eight?"

"Eight Sarge."

"Damn that must have been fun."

They started walking again, moving away from the stream of vehicles.

"Could be pretty competitive at lunch time." Dom confirmed. "I was in the middle so wasn't too bad."

"I kept meaning to have more kids, never found the time." Garibaldi admitted. "Had a good tme trying though!"

They shared a laugh.

"So come on Dom, you got a girl waiting at home?"

"Me? No Sarge." He chuckled.

"Not someone you keep thinking about?"

Dom considered the question for a while.

"You know, actually there was a girl, work colleague of a friend of mine."

"Go on."

"She was at my graduation. Very exotic beauty, dark hair, big dark eyes, pale skin, and what a figure."

"You've got a good eye buddy." Garibaldi smiled. "Bit like that officer over there?" He pointed to a group of soldiers.

"Yeah, a lot like…" Dom paused. "In fact, that's her." He frowned. "Bloody hell, it is as well! What's she doing here?"

"Talking to Foxy." Garibaldi recognized. "Lets go say hello."

It took Garibaldi another five yards before he got a good look at the female officer, and he instantly recognized her. It was a face he was not likely to ever forget.

"Holy…Jenny!"

The officer turned and greeted him with an equally big grin. "Crowbar! Man it's good to see you down here!"

They shared a quick embrace before Garibaldi remembered himself and saluted. "Captain."

"Knock it of Freddy, we've been through too much for that." She smiled warmly. "Emma here was just giving me a run down of your last encounter. Hard work Sarge."

"Yes Ma'am, it really was." Garibaldi nodded. "If I can ask, what are you doing here?"

"Official business." Jenny answered. "Long story, but we're trapped like you are so I thought we better pull our weight. I'm here to blow this tunnel."

"You got a demolition qualification?" Garibaldi asked.

"Surprising what you pick up with the firm." She shrugged. "Glad you guys are watching my back."

"Did Captain Franklin pas son the orders Sergeant?" Fox asked.

"Yes ma'am, with permission I'll have the Platoon deploy in a perimeter and dig in."

"Very good Sergeant, see to it at once."

Garibaldi nodded in receipt, then set about his jobs.

"Good to have you on the team Jenny." He said in parting.

She slapped him on the back and turned back to the set of explosives left by the engineer corps, noticing a young soldier stood before her. Something about him caught her attention.

"We met before didn't we?" She ran through her memory. "On Earth, you were a friend of Francis."

Dom blinked. "Wow, good memory! I mean, I didn't think I made that sort of impression!"

"Sort of my job to remember details." She grinned. "Glad you are still on your feet too."

"I didn't know you were… well, whatever you are." He said in return.

"Well that is sort of the point!" She laughed. "My company is good at hiding things, I think you've got another surprise coming."

"From you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You ain't that lucky soldier." She winked. "You'll see what I mean."

Dom wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he smiled, waved farewell, then caught up to Garibaldi.

"You know her Sarge?"

"Why do you sound so surprised I'd know someone like that?"

"Because she is way, way out of your league."

He shrugged. "My wife is prettier. But yeah, Jenny is something a bit special. In case you didn't catch on she's EIA."

"A spy?"

"Pretty much." Garibaldi nodded. "We got through a bit of a furball together, before your time but the old guys will know her. Very handy in a fight, good news she's back with us."

They crossed into a tunnel at the far end of the large cavern, some fifty yards wide and three hundred long. It was currently busy with vehicles and soldiers passing through, but Garibaldi could already see the end of the column of troops making its way along. Grouped around the edge was Red Platoon.

"Tucker! Harlow!" Garibaldi roused his Corporals. "Wakey wakey! We got orders!"

"All good Sarge." Tucker announced. "Hey, I heard Jenny was back?"

Garibaldi glared at him. "That has got to be the fastest rumour I've ever heard."

"You know how it is." Tucker shrugged with a grin. "If we could run ships on rumours we'd have been at Omelos six months ago."

"Well this time it's right, she's back."

Tucker slapped his hands together. "We've got a hot female kung fu master spy, we're on alien world, and the Sarge has a crowbar in his belt. I'm feeling better already."

Harlow agreed. "Just throw in the four horsemen of the Apocalypse and we'll have the full set of badass."

"And here I was looking forward to a quiet life." Garibaldi answered with a laconic hint in his voice. "We're bringing this tunnel down, Jenny is doing the honours but it will take a while. Harlow, get your squad dug in over there, Tucker dig in over on that side."

"Got it Sarge."

"Going to take about half an hour, we haven't had any hostile contact in more than a day, but you know how our luck runs."

"We'll get ready for a full on assault." Tucker chuckled.

"Don't jinx it." Garibaldi warned. "Okay, go, vanish."

The two squad leaders departed and rallied their troops, checking out defensive locations at the mouth of the tunnel. Fortunately with the uneven nature of the cavern and the many hanging rocks there was more than enough cover to go around. Garibaldi had faith in his subordinates, they'd seen as much combat as he had in the same rough battles and narrow escapes, they knew exactly what they were doing. He turned his focus back to Jenny who had moved into the cave and was opening up a series of crates on the back of a standard half ton utility truck.

"Turning into another one of those weeks." He observed quietly.

Jenny nodded. "Not the best of starts to our final push on Omelos is it?"

"What happened?"

"The Dilgar had more forces than we gave them credit for. That's about it."

"So they handed us our butts?"

"Yeah. That's the truth of it." Jenny confirmed. "Good news is we have contact with the fleet, Hamato is preparing a fresh attack with every Earth Force and League ship he can muster."

"That sounds like something to see."

"All or nothing." The EIA agent nodded. "Neither side is just going to walk away, we've both got far too much to lose now. This is the decisive battle, and we're all part of it."

Garibaldi looked over his shoulder as the final part of the troop column passed by, the last vehicle carried Captain Franklin and slowed as it passed by.

"Don't leave it to long Sergeant." The officer ordered. "We'll meet at the rendezvous and plan our next move."

"Yes sir, we'll be there."

The truck headed away leaving them stood in the neon glow of artificial lights.

"Well I better get a move on." Jenny concluded. "It'd go faster if I could have two volunteers." She hinted.

"Hey!" A man shouted. "I volunteer to help the agent."

Garibaldi had known who was going to speak before the words even reached him. "Alright Dom."

"Always a pleasure Sarge." He beamed back.

"Just give me a minute to find the tools." Jenny vanished

Garibaldi gave the young soldier a look. "I know what you're thinking Dom."

"Thinking sir? Me sir?" Dom looked shocked. "Thinking is for officers Sarge."

"She is so far out of your league I can't even make up some hyperbole to describe it." Garibaldi grunted. "But I'm going to set up a little pool anyway."

"I won't disappoint." Dom grinned

"Personally I'm betting she breaks your arm." Garibaldi winked. "Good luck."

Still smiling to himself Garibaldi started away. "Bugs!" He hollered. "Grab some motion sensors and follow me, we're going on a walk!"

"Do we have to Sarge?" he chanted back. "Can't we just say we went?"

"If you don't get your last ass down here in four seconds flat I'm going to show you an interesting and uncomfortable new place to keep a crowbar. Now move!"

Jenny couldn't hide a smile.

"Got a way with words hasn't he?"

"The Sarge?" Dom answered. "He's a character. He sounds like he's as hard as iron but he isn't, under that he would do anything for us guys. Best Sergeant in the Force."

"Yeah, I actually think he is." Jenny agreed. "Come on, we've got to drill some holes in the roof. You steady on your feet?"

"I get dizzy standing on my bed."

She laughed, pulling a step ladder from the truck and unfolding it. "You hold the ladder then, I'll do the manly work."

Dom grabbed hold of it as jenny nimbly stepped up. "Wanna pass me the drill?"

He headed for the truck to fetch it, and as he did so came face to face with the last person he expected to see. It took him five blinks to realise it was real and not some trick of his memory.

"Francis?"

"Hi Dom." The other man greeted.

"No way!"

"Yeah." Francis O'Leary grinned back. "I heard you were in one of the units sent here, really good to see you man."

"This is insane!" Dom laughed joyfully. "Of all the people in all the places…"

"I know, I know!" Francis agreed. "Things are just crazy right now."

"You're not kidding." Dom nodded. "So what the hell are you doing here? Last I heard you were in the export business?"

Francis sighed. "It's sort of a long story."

"He's a spy!" Jenny shouted down.

Francis shrugged. "Or maybe not such a long story."

"Dom, drill please."

The young soldier handed up the power tool to the female agent, shaking his head. "You?"

"Yeah." Francis nodded.

"But… you?"

"Yeah me."

"You?"

"Dom, yes, I joined the EIA!"

"But, but I mean… you were rubbish at anything physical!" Dom shook his head. "You'd be a terrible spy!"

"I'm not a field agent." Francis said. "I just got caught up in this. Usually I work in a nice air conditioned room with a computer."

"Guess you got a little more than you bargained for here huh?"

"Believe me, it isn't the first time."

They helped Jenny rig the tunnel with demolition charges, sharing stories as the moved the explosives and Francis wired the different charges. There was only so much Francis could say about his life, besides his basic duty and the events that had brought him here most everything he knew was classified, including his more dangerous exploits. As a member of Earth Force Dom had clearance to certain information, but he could still only know a fraction of the whole story.

"You know, it does kind of make sense." Dom nodded. "And she was the girl we met back before you got arrested?"

"The same one, she recruited me." He nodded to Jenny. "In a very sneaky little sting operation."

She just raised an eyebrow. "All's fair in love and war."

"Weren't you dating that punk chick?" Dom asked. "I mean, I can see the attraction here…"

"Oh, Jenny and I aren't, you know…" Francis tailed off. "But yeah, Heather is her name."

"So does that mean you're friend up there is, shall we say, available?"

"Actually," Francis pointed away. "That's her husband to be."

Walking up the tunnel was a scruffy civilian in fatigues carrying an assortment of weaponry from the modern to the positively ancient. He had the look of a pirate, a buccaneer from some long lost story.

"I should have known." Dom complained. "Spies and Pirates. There's got to be a movie cliché in that."

"Hey up there." Paul announced himself. "I found you a rifle."

"About time, did you go up to the surface?" Jenny shouted back as she wedged another demolition charge in place.

"Almost." He returned. "I got you the sniper variant, extra power, extra range, and this neat little scope on top."

"Really?" she smiled down from the ladder. "That's the sweetest gift!"

"Well I know you have standards, and I like a girl who can accessorize."

"Paul, this is my old friend Dom." Francis cut in. "Dom, Paul Calendar, mercenary Pirate for hire."

"Don't listen to him." He put the new rifle in the truck. "I'm an honest freight Captain. Almost honest."

"You're trapped here too?"

"Yeah, this whole massive counter attack thing kinda blew my plans." He admitted. "But on the plus side… no wait, actually there is no plus side."

"Tell me about it."

Jenny unravelled the last wire and dropped it to Francis. "That's it."

"Okay, give me a minute to wire it up and we can go."

"Broadsword to Foxy." Jenny spoke into her link. "We're done here, we can start pulling back."

"I read you." The female paratrooper replied with a clear hint of relief. "We're falling back."

Quickly and professionally the platoon began to withdraw, moving in small groups away from the open cavern and down the tunnel. The last two to leave were Bugs and Garibaldi, retiring from their forward look out position.

"Quick question." Dom raised. "If we blow up all these tunnels, how do we get out?"

"Don't worry, there's a hell of a lot more ways in and out than these." Paul answered. "The Balosians have a thousand routes mapped and guarded, when the time comes we can just walk out of here anywhere we want."

"Think that might be soon?" He asked.

"Maybe, the fleet is coming." Paul guaranteed. "And when it arrives I'm guessing we'll head topside to give the Dilgar some hell down here, prevent them coordinating ground based attacks on the navy or something."

The conversation was derailed by the sudden reappearance of Bugs and Garibaldi bolting into the tunnel at very high speed.

"Run!" The Sergeant yelled at the top of his lungs.

"We're not done yet!" Jenny shouted back.

"Fine! Hide!"

He and Bugs skidded to a halt beside the truck and unslung their weapons, joining Dom and Paul as they too made ready.

"Hello again Crowbar, keeping well?" Paul asked as he removed the safety from his rifle.

"Same as always." The Sergeant confirmed. "Nice rifle."

Paul grinned widely as he held the antique wood and metal contraption. "Garand rifle, I was going to bring something more recent but you should see the size of the bullets this ting fires. I didn't want to take any chances, when I shoot someone with this thing, they're not going to stand back up."

Jenny joined them, picking up her newly acquired PPG rifle. "What do we have?"

"Kitty." Garibaldi replied. "At least company strength, a scout element."

"Foxy calling Crowbar." The comms crackled. "Come in."

"Crowbar here, receiving."

"We've got you covered." Lieutenant Fox said. "Get yourself back here right now!"

"I need a couple of minutes." Francis informed, stripping wires with his teeth. "Why do they have to make blowing stuff up so complicated?"

"We have an ETA of three minutes." Garibaldi informed. "We'll probably be coming in hot."

"Understood, stay on the left of the tunnel, we're deployed to fire down the right side."

"Roger that Foxy, see you soon."

"This is like old times." Paul commented nostalgically. "I missed running for my life."

"So much more detached fleeing in a spaceship." Jenny agreed. "This is much more personal, showing the Dilgar we care face to face."

Dom frowned. "You two sound like you've done this a lot."

"We try to make it a monthly event." Paul confirmed. "Something to look forward to."

The conversation ended as a Dilgar soldier stepped into view fifty yards away.

"Mine." Jenny said flatly as she aimed briefly, then pulled the trigger. The red plasma bolt sailed out and struck the soldier clean on the forehead, felling him without even time to inhale for a panicked cry.

"Nice shot." Dom allowed with slight awe.

Jenny gave him a small laugh, then focused back on the tunnel entrance. "Movement!"

"Let 'em have it!" Garibaldi demanded, and began firing down towards the arriving enemy soldiers.

The Dilgar scattered, finding cover amid the rocks and at once began shooting back, blue energy streaks impacting the rock walls and the chassis of the utility truck. The humans replied ably, the three soldiers laying down suppressive fire while Jenny picked off targets with fearful accuracy.

Paul followed her example, waiting until he could see a clear shot before firing. He braced the old rifle on the front of the truck, lined up the sights and pulled the trigger gently. The weapon cracked with exploding cordite and blasted a large conical bullet through the tunnel with a disturbingly loud echo. The round found its mark, throwing an enemy soldier back three feet with the force of the impact.

"I knew I was right to bring the box of guns! I knew it!"

"Okay!" Francis shouted. "Wired!"

"In the truck!" Jenny ordered. "Paul, drive!"

He slotted the rifle between the seats and jumped in, starting the engine and revving the engine. Gun shots slapped the vehicle near him but fortunately none hit.

"Any time!"

The rest of the group clambered on, Francis beside Paul and the rest in the open back of the truck still maintaining fire.

"All aboard!" Garibaldi reported. "Floor it!"

The truck skidded away, tires smoking as Paul did as instructed, red and blue energy bolts flashing in the underground battlefield. The Dilgar advanced at once, and as they moved into the tunnel they came into range of the rest of the platoon at the far end. Streams of gunfire coursed past the speeding truck as Lieutenant Fox provided cover, giving the small vehicle the chance to get safely clear.

It bounced on a rock, jumped a couple of feet into the air before landing heavily on its suspension and growling into a second large cavern.

"Clear!" Paul yelled, easing off the throttle.

"Here it comes!" Francis shouted in turn, hitting the detonator with the base of his hand.

The tunnel dissolved in thunder and brown dust, followed by the roaring crash of rock falling upon rock. The shaped charges performed exactly as expected, bringing the tunnel down on top of the following Dilgar and sealing the way, at least for a few days until the Dilgar blasted through. By then Earth Force would be long gone.

The truck rolled to a halt, the passengers breathing heavily and collapsing onto the seats beside them.

"Glad to see the Calendar effect is still in force." Jenny smiled. "Causes trouble, but at least it gets us out of it too."

"By an impressively narrow margin." Garibaldi added. "I need new friends, you guys are bad for my health. Anyone know a good librarian? Accountant maybe?"

"Bet you're glad I brought the box of guns now huh?" Paul pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah." Jenny waved. "I suppose, maybe you were right and I was wrong."

"So what else is in that box?" Bugs asked in interest.

"Glad you asked, I've got…"

"Later." Garibaldi cut in. "We better get moving to the rendezvous, Captain has plans."

"We gonna be getting some payback Sarge?" Bugs wondered.

"You bet we are." Garibaldi replied firmly. "We still owe them for the Black Watch."

The soldiers hopped off the truck and rejoined the platoon.

"We'll be seeing you later Crowbar." Jenny informed them as Paul throttled up again.

"We make a good team." He grinned after her.

"The best!" She agreed as the truck pulled away. "We're not finished yet!"

Garibaldi shared the sentiment. "Damn straight we're not."

Dilgar Grand Fleet

Balos Star System

"What we have achieved here is not a true victory." Jha'dur announced calmly. "We achieved our mission, inflicted heavy losses on Earth Force and forced them back, but it has not broken them. We are still fighting, this ladies and gentlemen is just a lull, a little piece of quiet. Eye of the storm."

She glanced around the briefing room engaging in eye contact with each of the dozen officers listening to her, the various divisional and fleet commanders she had appointed to the fleet and army. Some were very old acquaintances, others she knew only by reputation.

"You have each distinguished yourself in this action, and you have my compliments. It might not sound like much but my praise is not easily given, it takes a lot to earn it. Congratulations."

She tapped her fingers on the steel desk in front of her, looking over the various controls that activated and altered holographic displays and briefing aids.

"Back home this will be called a decisive victory. We need to boost morale and prove we are winning, however this is not a victory yet. Do not get carried away and do not buy into your own hype. The hardest fight is yet to come. Earth Force will be back."

"Warmaster." War Captain Tor'han raised his voice. "Do we have confirmation the humans will be back?"

"Nothing solid yet, though we have picked up their fleet massing at Comac one jump from here." Jha'dur replied. "But they will be back, I know it."

She allowed herself a smile.

"I know humans, I know how they think. I can see what they will do before they do. No commander would abandon his people on the planet. They will attack and in full force, then we'll have our battle."

"We lost over a quarter of the fleet Warmaster." Tor'han mentioned. "Higher than we were hoping for."

"But no unexpected, and not unplanned for." Jha'dur stated confidently. "Things are still going according to plan, we still have sufficient forces to achieve our mission and I expect to have replacement fighters from Omelos by the end of today. An'jash, make sure each ship is fully loaded with an airwing."

"Of course Warmaster." Her aide nodded.

"The remaining fighters will land on Balos and standby there. What is happening on the surface?"

"Last reports show the majority of the human forces retreated underground, leaving a rearguard to delay us."

The statement was delivered by a frighteningly scarred man in dark green, an army officer who at one point had been trapped in a burning tank. His scarred features were treatable by modern medicine, but he had elected to keep them as marks of honour showing his service on the Drazi Front.

"Not an ideal situation." Jha'dur grimaced. "I had hoped simply to surround and contain them, keep them as hostages to draw in Hamato."

"Respectfully Warmaster, they will still serve that function." The army officer replied.

"They will, that is true." She nodded. "But they are outside my control, and that concerns me. Balos is a warren, they could pop up anywhere at any time, and if we go in after them it will cost us entire armies."

"I have spoken with the new General Staff." The officer intoned, brushing over the fates of the previous General staff officers who hadn't pressed the attack hard enough and allowed Earth Force to escape. "We believe in establishing mobile combat groups which can be quickly deployed to trouble spots."

"A logical plan." She nodded. "Battlemaster… Vro'mal is it?"

"Yes Warmaster." The scarred man confirmed.

"Deploy your forces as you see fit, your strategies on Fendamir were brilliantly executed, I actually found myself laughing at how ingenius they were."

"Thank you Warmaster."

"You are a good officer, a radical. I appreciate that, especially when it gets results. How did we do on the ground before the humans escaped?"

"We destroyed approximately half the Brakiri force, and the entire Markab and Gaim armies."

"What about Earth Force?"

"A few divisions." He answered. "Mostly rear guard units, they fought to the death."

"Of course the did." An'jash spoke. "No alien would willingly surrender to us."

"There's more to it than that." Jha'dur added. "Even if we were merciful they would still have fought to the last. They were ordered to buy time with their lives, time to let their comrades escape. It had nothing to do with us, they fought to the death because it was their duty to do so, and it allowed many more to live."

She tapped the desk in thought, her advisors and officers remaining patiently quiet.

"This is not perfect, but it is still winnable." She said ultimately. "No battle goes completely to plan, but we don't have to alter much to make the best of this situation. We knew at the start we would have some major problems to overcome, numbers, crews, supplies and morale. We have met each challenge and triumphed."

"Our supply situation is not ideal Warmaster." Tor'han informed. "Only half the fleet has fuel for another jump."

"The weaker half." She pointed out. "I am aware of this, our supply situation is the biggest hurdle we face. If I had my way we would have pursued the fleeing Earth Fleet to their base and slaughtered it completely. But we can't. We fight with the tools we have at hand, we can't chase Earth Force but we do have a method to force them to come to us."

She stood upright.

"How is the core fleet Tor'han?"

"Three thousand top of the line warships." He answered. "The last of our pre-war forces and veteran crews, beside Dar'sen of course."

"Of course." Jha'dur nodded. "But I need him holding the Drazi, they are still an immediate threat. Much as I want to draw in his elite forces we can't risk a renewed Drazi attack, especially with that human fleet backing them up."

"They are prepared to take Earth Force on directly." Tor'han said. "They have the latest training and are briefed on how to exploit human weaknesses."

"In time." She nodded. "An'jash, strike forces?"

"Fuelled and ready." The Captain replied. "We'll hold them in reseve until battle is joined, then unleash them on the humans."

"What is their morale?"

"The highest in the fleet." She replied. "They know what is expected of them, and what they must likely sacrifice."

"They will open the way for our victory." Jha'dur said confidently. "Make sure they know, they will play the biggest role in the coming battle."

The Captain nodded.

"Then we are all set." Jha'dur concluded. "Return to your posts, make sure all your people know what is needed and what we will gain if they do their part. We still have a lot of fight left in us, and more than a few surprises. All we need now is Earth Force. Dismiss."

She allowed the officers to make their way out, exchanging words of encouragement as they did so. They were the last remnants of the greatest and most successful warmachine in history, the best officers Jha'dur could scrape together from surviving fleets and reserve units. She had taken a chance on most of them, promoting them by three or more grades and giving them great responsibilities. So far they had excelled in the most difficult of all circumstances.

"Surviving battle with Earth Force is a great victory." She said in parting. "Actually defeating them? That is the stuff of legend."

When the door closed shut she closed her eyes and just savoured the solitude, drinking in the quiet and emptying her thoughts. Running the battle had been draining and incredibly demanding, easily the hardest fight of her career which was saying a lot. She felt glad to have earned a victory, but she still felt hollow and expectant, still had the anxiety of a situation unresolved.

The moment of solace was brief, interrupted mere moments later by a knock at the door.

"Yes?" she allowed.

The door opened allowing in a familiar face, Ari'shan. He carried a large box beneath his arm and nodded to the Warmaster.

"Congratulations on your victory Jha'dur."

"Ari." She smiled in rare warmth. "I understand you added eight Furies to your tally, an incredible achievement."

"Each and every one fought bravely and skilfully." He spoke with pride. "It was a true honour to join them in battle. Yesterday was a pinnacle, more than I could have imagined."

"More to come yet. It was just a taster." Jha'dur told him. "Their best ships weren't committed, they'll be coming soon. So will that human pilot you so desperately seek."

"David Sinclair." Ari said the name with enormous respect. "You know I define myself by whom I fight? Yesterday was a new definition, but nothing comes close to duelling with him. He is my equal and opposite."

"Nemesis." Jha'dur said quietly.

"Warmaster?"

"Nothing, something I read." She smiled. "Don't let him get the better of you."

"The best pilot will triumph, it will be how fate wills it."

"Don't stay in a losing fight Ari."

"I can't run away Jha'dur! If I have nothing left I have my honour!"

"You know I'm serious about this Ari!" She said forcefully.

"And you should know me too by now." He returned. "We all die, we just have to die well."

"That might not always be true." The Warmaster said calmly. "And if you could cheat death, it would be a pity if you threw away the chance."

"I'd rather die with honour than live in disgrace."

"That's because you are young and idealistic. Give yourself time to grow up before saying that."

"I can't change my soul Jha'dur."

She smiled "I remember thinking that once. I changed it. Or maybe I just buried it somewhere."

She pushed the thoughts aside.

"What's in the box?"

"This?" he took the container from under his arm. "No idea, one of your adjutants was bringing it."

He placed it on the table.

"Interesting." The Warmaster remarked.

"I took it off his hands, I was heading up this way so thought I'd save him a journey."

She popped the seal and opened the box, then reached in and carefully removed the contents. It was a mystery to Ari'shan, a multicoloured fabric bag with five odd black pipes sticking out at different angles. It made a slight wheeze like an exhausted animal as she placed it on the desk.

"This is new." He commented. "What is it?"

"Something I had brought up from the planet." Jha'dur said solemnly, utterly focused on the new device.

"Balosian?"

"Human." She said. "A type of musical instrument."

"That?" he asked in surprise. "I've heard human music, I happen to quite enjoy it, but that isn't a musical instrument."

"You didn't hear this play." Jha'dur said slowly, looking at the tattered fabric and dust stained tartan. "It was awful to hear at first, screeching and horrendous. But then, when you actually take time to listen to the melody… I hadn't heard anything like that before. It shouldn't have worked, this thing is atrocious, yet they made it work. They made it sound like something special, something soulful. I have no idea how they could do that, how they can make something so terrible seem so beautiful."

"Where did it come from?"

"A unit of human soldiers used it to inspire their defence. It worked, they wiped out seven times their numbers. Seven times, I'm trying to remember if we ever did that."

She carefully looked at the pipes, the engravings and regimentally badges adorning it along with a long, long list of names.

"What are these?" Ari pointed to the list. "Members of the unit?"

"Battles. Old ones." She answered.

Ari raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of combat."

"Lot of history." She agreed. "They've been doing this for a long time, as long as we have. Is it any wonder they've created people like these soldiers? Like your opponent Sinclair?"

"No surprise at all Warmaster."

She exhaled. "Better report to your squadron, I don't know when the humans will show up but I'd put my money on sooner rather than later."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Ari." She said clearly. "Nothing wrong with staying alive. It doesn't always have to end in death. Remember that."

"I will." He nodded, then he too departed.

She examined the bagpipes more carefully as they sat on the table before her, she had researched them after the battle and knew some of their history, even found a few recordings, but the most poignant was the live transmission from the battlefield her forces had intercepted. These very pipes that were right here before her had sounded in that valley, played by some skilled human in a way few could imitate. It was so alien, so wholly unexpected it had really driven the sound into her consciousness. She placed a hand on the worn tartan and just held it for a moment.

"Warmaster?"

"Now what!" She snarled, the moment broken.

On the screen beside her An'jash visibly shrank from the burst of anger.

"Apologies Warmaster, I… I thought…"

"Doesn't matter Captain." She said more evenly. "What is it?"

"Message from Omelos, first level priority."

"Patch it through." She said, then stood before the screen. A moment later a male officer appeared, a dull sky behind him.

"Warmaster."

"Captain Sa'goth." She greeted the head of intelligence. "You have news?"

"Two pieces Warmaster, firstly the humans are mobilising to attack."

"As expected."

"They will be there within a week, and we expect heavy League reinforcements with them. Almost the entire active allied navy."

Jha'dur nodded. "Very good Captain, just what we want to happen."

"There is something else." He continued. "Something I noticed, an anomaly in fleet signals."

Jha'dur's interest peaked. "What sort of anomaly?"

"It was very subtle, very hard to detect." Sa'goth said. "Most people would have missed it, but I found a carrier signal embedded in our own frequencies."

"One of ours?"

"Human Warmaster."

She had to control a smile. "That is a little surprising."

""I've analysed it and there is no doubt, it is not a mistake or a failure in our systems. It's a human signal."

She found herself forced to acknowledge how resourceful these people were.

"What is its purpose?"

"Standard communication signal." He said. "The key is how its works, they are bouncing it through the jamming."

"How is that possible? Shouldn't jamming stop that?"

"It should, but the jamming is blanket noise broadcast by giant communication transmitters. Somehow they turned that blanket useless noise into a coded signal, and used our own jammers to send a signal to the fleet."

She chuckled at the incredulity. "Can we stop it?"

"Only by turning off the jammers, which would defeat the object. They could just send normal signals."

"Very clever, very, very clever." Jha'dur accepted.

"Warmaster, I know of exactly two people in the galaxy with the skill to do something like this. I'm one of them."

"And the other is the human computer expert we've all heard so much about." She saw the answer. "Credit where due, he is proving a very useful asset to them. And to us if he is drawing in Hamato."

"Something else Warmaster." Sa'goth said. "The signal was hidden, I don't think anyone would expect us to find it."

"Is there any indication Earth knows we've broken this signal?"

"No Warmaster, but that wasn't what I meant." Sa'goth answered. "I isolated it, and then tracked its origin."

"To Earth."

"To Balos Warmaster. The human agent is on Balos, and I can pinpoint his location to within a quarter mile."

Jha'dur's entire demeanor changed in an instant.

"You are sure of this?"

"Entirely Warmaster."

"And this is not a trap?"

"I can't think of any way the humans would know we have cracked their signal. They should have no idea we know about it, or are even looking for it."

"How often is the broadcast?"

"Every six hours."

"And you can trace it every time?"

"Yes Warmaster, within thirty seconds."

She nodded slowly. "Send me this data immediately on my personal channel, no delays."

"Of course Warmaster. Shall I send an intelligence team?"

"No necessary, I'll handle this myself." She said. "Excellent work Captain, excellent work."

"Thank you Warmaster."

"Keep me fully informed, that is all."

She ended the message, returning her gaze to the pipes. Her mind was twirling with thoughts, plans, ideas and conclusions. The news was ground breaking, a golden opportunity to grasp an insight into the highest level of human military intelligence. She really, really wanted to talk to this individual.

Above all else though she still heard the sound of the pipes ringing in her head, tanding out against the gunfire and explosions. She couldn't shake it, couldn't make it go away, the sound followed her defiantly whatever she did.

"Captain An'jash." She flicked a switch on the comms panel.

"Warmaster?"

"How many prisoners did we take, humans?"

"Not many, only those knocked unconscious and unable to resist. Most fought to the end."

"A number Captain?"

"Twenty six, all on the planet still. I was about to have them transported to a research ship for your attention."

"Let them go."

An'jash paused. "Warmaster?"

"I said let them go. Open the cells, walk away and let them go."

"With respect Warmaster it is highly irregular."

"Yes, it really is isn't it?" She smiled slightly, running her hand over the tartan pipes again. "There's still a part of me that recognizes courage in the face of unbeatable odds. Blame Ari for awakening it in me. For a short time."

"As you order Warmaster."

"Then contact Commander Arn'dal. Tell him to gather his team." Jha'dur stated with a smile. "I've got a little job for him."


	87. Chapter 87

85

Balos

"I hate this planet."

Arn'dal scoured at the rocky floor and skein of sand that lay all along the ground as far as the eye could see. He observed the cloudless sky, the high sun and the hot breeze. He felt the dryness of the air, the discomfort of his stealth uniform in the heat and the clammy, clinging feeling he had on his skin as his sweat glands bled in the desert temperatures.

"I hate this sun, I hate this heat, I hate this race and I hate been here."

"Likewise sir." His comrade agreed, Expert Val'cet wiping his own low brow in the inhospitable conditions. "There isn't a decent forest on this rock."

"Doesn't surprise me." The senior Spectre nodded. "The boss says this place took an asteroid hit thirty thousand years ago or something like that, wiped out the ecosystem."

"Shame it wasn't big enough to split the planet in half, annihilate this gods forsaken place."

"Yeah." Arn'dal agreed. "But even if it had we'd just be stood on another rock complaining about something else."

"Might have been a bit cooler though." Val'cet pointed out.

"That's a point." The other Dilgar agreed. "But I hear its cool underground."

"Something to be grateful for."

"Although it is swarming with those damned Balosians."

He shook his head. "We bomb the planet from orbit, seed the surface with diseases, send down hunter groups and still they refuse to die, know what is?"

"Damn inconsiderate of them."

"You're damn right it is!" Arn'dal spat. "Don't get me wrong, I like the personal touch when it comes to extermination, but after a while it just gets to be a chore. There's only so many beings you can kill before it gets dull."

"I know the feeling exactly." Val'cet nodded along. "You shoot them, knife them, strangle them, even beat them to death. I mean, we try to make it interesting…"

"Exactly!" Arn'dal emphasised. "It's losing interest, we've done everything we can think of by now, its just another day, another bunch of people the boss wants dead."

"I don't know how she keeps it interesting for herself."

"Well she's the master of this sort of thing." Arn'dal shrugged. "She's a lot smarter than us, better imagination. I don't think she'll ever get bored of slaughter."

"Lucky her." Val'cet said wistfully, then smiled. "Killing the Council was a highlight."

Arn'dal chuckled along. "Wasn't it? Who gets the chance to do that in their lifetime eh?"

"All said and done, I would change jobs." Val'cet confirmed. "It might get tedious, but we're the only ones who can do it well."

"That's true." Arn'dal smiled. "Credit to the boss, she knows what we're all good at."

Before them a regular army officer trotted up, hastily saluting. His uniform was streaked with dirt and sweat and his face was bright red. If anything he was having a worse time of it than the Spectres.

"Sir, we've found the tunnel."

Arn'dal nodded. "Is it guarded?"

"No sir."

"That means it's an ambush." The Spectre grinned. "Balosians have been raiding in this area for months, coming and going without trace. This must be their escape route."

"We've checked for traps sir, we didn't find anything."

"They'll be deeper in the tunnel, arranged to suck us into a confined space and then hit us. That won't be pretty."

The officer didn't look thrilled at the idea of going underground, but was clearly a lot more scared of Jha'dur's right hand men than he was of a Balosian trap. "You want us to go in sir?"

"Yes, but not yet. We'll go first."

Arn'dal turned and signalled for his Spectres, six of them had joined him, the best of an already extremely elite bunch. Jha'dur could call upon nearly a hundred Spectres, even the worst of them was skilled enough to give even human special forces a good run for their money. The ones Arn'dal had with him were the best in the business, responsible for over a thousand kills each in their career including humans. Val'cet was famous for the execution of a human General during the first stages of the Balosian invasion, the only one to have died so far in close combat. He had simply walked up to the command vehicle, stepped in the door and gunned down six staff officers including the General, then walked out again.

"Follow us in five minutes." Arn'dal ordered. "Send your conscripts in first, they'll probably die no matter what."

"Yes sir."

"How good are your men? The regulars I mean?"

"We've been hunting Balosians for eleven months sir." The officer replied. "We know how they fight."

"This will be your hardest mission, you've killed many Balosians?"

"Hundreds."

"Well this time you'll be fighting humans too. Treat them like you'd treat elite soldiers from back home. Use aggression, don't skimp on the ammo, and if in doubt plaster the area with automatic gunfire."

"Understood."

"Five minutes." Arn'dal said, then activated his stealth systems and vanished, his team following suit.

"Least its cool underground." Val'cet said from nowhere.

Arn'dal grunted in response.

"I hate this planet."

They crept quietly into the entrance of the cave, a narrow and jagged entrance that was a perfect defensive location. It was completely pitch black inside, the outer sunlight penetrating mere feet into the murk. Arn'dal switched to his imaging systems, an inbuilt part of his stealth systems that enhanced any images in front of him. Normal Dilgar equipment scanned the area in front to provide a highly detailed picture of an obscured path, but that technique produced electronic emissions which could be easily tracked, a big disadvantage for Spectres. The Stealthy system was much less efficient, but it was at least undetectable.

The darkness brought a noticeable chill, the contrast with the desert outside was amazing, at least a twenty degree drop in temperature over a matter of feet. In the cool and cloistered air moisture had formed on the roof and walls of the cave, a steady trip of fresh liquid echoing in the confines and trickling along the ground into the depths of the subterranean world.

The Spectres proceeded with care, rifles primed and ready. The caves of Balos were not only home to resistance fighters but to a selection of nightmarish predators, nocturnal hunters that hid from the sun in the cool dark of the caverns or nested with their young. Such beasts had claimed more than a few unwary soldiers and were often used as guard animals by the Balosians to cover their retreat.

The Spectres knew their job, and even without seeing or hearing one another proceeded at a slow, steady pace keeping an even spacing between themselves and remaining alert for trouble. There were no trip wires or hidden bombs, and that just made Arn'dal more suspicious. The tunnel had been secluded and hard to find, but the Balosians would not leave such an opening undefended. There was a trap here, Arn'dal just had to count on his people being cautious enough not to accidentally trigger it.

After another minute of walking they found it.

The tunnel widened slightly, and embedded in cover lay several Balosians, alert and ready for combat. Arn'dal reasoned they would not be so alert constantly so must somehow have spotted them coming, or specifically the regular infantry who by now would be crossing into the tunnel and making up ground. He had to admit the Balosians were masters of Guerrilla warfare, which was respectable but too much trouble as far as Arn'dal was concerned. Unlike Ari'shan he didn't savour defeating an equally skilled opponent, he just enjoyed a quick clean kill with minimal fuss, exertion or risk. He had the training and will to fight hard if need be, his record in that field was scarily perfect and the main reason Jha'dur had promoted him to run the Spectres, but all things been equal Arn'dal preferred it easy.

His soldiers took up position behind the Balosians, slipping past them without incident and taking cover, searching for further traps. They all had their pre-arranged formations and stances designed so that even invisible they knew generally where each other was and didn't accidentally shoot their comrades in the back of their see through heads. It was probably the biggest part of Spectre training, this awareness and understanding of the environment even when they couldn't see it in front of their faces.

A scuffle of boots and clank of equipment heralded the imminent approach of the regular soldiers, making enough noise to stir the dead from their deep slumber. The Balosians remained perfectly still, waiting for the moment to strike like those nocturnal predators. They too wore night vision systems of surprisingly sophisticated design and noted every step the incoming company made.

The ambushers waited until the conscripts were just feet away before suddenly rising from cover and blasting orange energy rounds into the cave. The pitch black pulsated with orange lights and sudden echoing screams as the front units were cut down, the scene flashing from orange to jet black as guns fired, paused and then fired again.

Arn'dal waited for this moment, waited until the Balosians were focused on the conscripts before making his own move. He didn't much care for the soldiers who died while he prepared, they were distracting the Balosians and that meant they were doing their job. The glory of team work.

He opened fire, joined seconds later by the other Spectres. They gunned down the Balosians from behind, surprising them utterly and filling the cave with a constant blue light as they hosed automatic fire through the darkness. After five or six seconds it stopped, and the black returned.

"Captain?" Arn'dal spoke in the blackness.

"Here sir."

"The way is clear, but won't be for long. Move fast, these places are a warren, the Balosians hide in here and so will we."

"yes sir."

"Our target is further in the complex, we have a rough location but will have to search to find him. It is a given he will be well guarded by elite human soldiers."

"Understood."

"I need you to engage the human troops. Tie them down, keep them busy. Don't worry about beating them, just distract them while my Spectres do their job."

"We won't fail sir."

"Jha'dur wants this one alive, so watch your fire." Arn'dal warned. "If the boss doesn't get what she wants, well, I hope you don't have a family waiting for you."

"I'm prepared never to go home."

"Not my point Captain. If you fail, she'll take it out on those you love, and then you. She's vindictive like that."

"I won't fail."

"See that you don't." Arn'dal said with finality. "Lets get going, we haven't got eternity."

EAS Illustrious

Task Force 28

Earth Expeditionary Fleet

The unlovely grey and blue vessel cruised through the red torrent of hyperspace, its pale hull brightly reflecting the shift of spectrum on all sides. She was an old ship, nearly fifty years in service and a second generation interstellar warship at a time when Earth Force was finalising their fourth generation designs. But that age did not translate into feebleness, the modernised hangars on the Avenger class Carrier packed with the latest Starfuries and bristling with interceptors. Commodore Chambers ran the ship from a refitted command deck glowing with up to date systems even if the walls could do with a fresh touch of paint. She was slow, sluggish and by human standards under armed, but she was also one of the few dedicated carriers in the galaxy and with four full squadrons of deadly fighters could not be taken lightly.

The rest of the task force was equally up to date, a pair of heavy cruisers provided flexibility while six corvettes offered close in protection from light ships and fighter swarms. Dominating the group however were two Dreadnoughts, the blank hulled ships of the line that had proven so ferocious in earlier battles. Their reputation for invincibility had been dented by the Dilgar counter attack, but they were still the most frightening ships known in service and the two examples here perfect examples of their breed. The Adolphus Gustavus on one side, and the infamous EAS Nemesis on the other.

The Task force was merely one among many, each with its own heritage and history. Most of the ships here had seen action and most of the crews had a number of victories under their belts. They had gathered in the biggest concentration of allied might in the war so far, three and a half thousand ships of various types, classes, worlds and races. Ships from Io and Proxima crossed paths with bronze coloured cruisers from Markab and Troth. The quintessentially alien Vree saucers passed by nimble Cascan fighters and lumpy Descari destroyers while somewhere at the heart of the fleet the Abbai cruiser Syontar and Alacan warship Pyrotinia added their small but valuable contribution to the armada.

It was a stirring sight to see the tall Brakiri warships escorting Nova Dreadnoughts or unscrutable Vree saucers patrolling the edge of the fleet in union with Earth Force Rail gun frigates. They were a truly united fleet, disciplined, dedicated and armed for every occasion. Just months ago this would have been fantasy, even if the various races had wanted to fight together they were so different, their ships and tactics so antithetical that any united battle would have become a circus.

Admiral Akira Hamato had changed that, introduced a fixed set of doctrines that allowed each race to play to their strengths and rely on their neighbours to cover their weaknesses. Vree and Markab cruisers provided mobility, Earth and Brakiri ships provided endurance, while Cascan and human fighters formed the main interception forces. It had taken extraordinary circumstances to formulate, but the League and Earth had put together one fleet made from many races. Something not seen in a thousand years. Any one fleet would be hard pressed to beat Jha'dur and her Grand Fleet, but together, united, they had a chance.

The fleet also shared the familiar pre-battle rituals of those about to go to war, the busy back and forth of engineers and crews preparing their ships for action mixed with the quiet unbearable waiting of those already set for the coming action and simply counting the seconds until it was time. The Markab prayed, and chanted, and sang. The Descari recalled the names of those who had died on their world and swore revenge. The Cascor laughed and drank and shared stories of derring do and adventure while the Vree were simply the Vree.

Across the Earth Force fleet people took the time to recognize whatever was important to them. Captain Tennant of the Nemesis carefully removed his fabled grass skirt from its chest and tied it around his waist, paying his respects to the Maori shaman who had blessed it to bring him fortune in battle. Muslims bowed their heads to Mecca, forheads touching the steel decks of the warships they served on. Christians said their prayers, Jews broke bread and atheists found peace in the world around them. Among them Admiral Hamato himself sat in his quarters before a small shrine burning incense and drinking water from a small clay bowl. No small task in zero gravity.

People took their moment of time to be themselves, to be individuals and thinking, feeling human beings before that was set aside and they changed. The individual would be put aside and they would become something larger, one component in the juggernaut rolling on Balos. They would become a team, a unified whole of not just humans but now aliens as well. Fluid, adaptive and all but impossible to hold back.

Fighters were fuelled, their power cells charged with thick cables linked to the back of the assorted craft. Gun feeds were checked, cleared and double checked. Elevation and traverse mechanisms were tested to look for jams or obstructions that could prove lethal in combat while computer systems ran drills and simulations. Everything was at peak readiness, sitting poise don a knife edge half eager and half terrified for what was on its way.

Missiles and torpedoes were loaded into tubes, running on magnetic rails to their launch sites. Some were gigantic fifty metre long tubes of fuel and munitions, some were closer to eighty metres, others barely two or three. Auxiliary power systems were brought to standby in order to provide ships with full combat power and engine feeds were set to full. Engineers and technicians ran through their checklists for the tenth time making sure their area of responsibility was perfect, that their ship or fighter would perform as expected and do anything the commander asked.

They were ready. They knew what was coming, they knew what had happened to the previous fleet and they were still prepared to stand where their brothers and sisters had fallen and take on the same enemy that had beaten them. No hesitation, no compromise, no turning back. Everything depended on this battle, on every tiny detail being perfect and every plot, officer and crew member being at the top of their game. The time was now upon them.

The yellow forklift truck beeped loudly as it moved forward flashing orange lights as it ran on the rails embedded into the hangar floor. It could only drive in a fairly restricted course, limited by where the rails held it to the zero gravity deck but it still had to warn people to stay out of its way. At the end of its arms was a long missile rising up to the upper wing racks of a Nova Fury, two ground crew team members waiting to secure it to the Earth Force Warplane.

"Anti ship nukes." Lieutenant William Hague observed with a nod. "Pretty."

"Heavy." Commander David Sinclair responded. "Slows us down in a dogfight."

Across the hangar deck the twelve fighters of his squadron were being prepared for action, each one armed with two anti ship missiles in addition to four much smaller anti fighter autonomous missiles in the outer racks.

"So they want to turn us into strike pilots now?" Hague asked.

"Lot of ships out there, we've got orders to try and nail a couple of small ones." Sinclair informed.

"What if we run into fighters first?"

"Just dump them." Sinclair said. "Don't try and get into a furball with those still attached."

"Nice way to throw away ten million credits each."

"Cheaper than getting killed."

Hague nodded. "Yes sir."

He watched the ground crew inscribing messages on the nuclear weapons, phrases like 'To Kitty with love' or 'If you can read this you're really boned.' It was a tradition as old as bombs themselves, and some of the messages were extremely colourful.

"How's the new guy settling?" Sinclair asked.

"He's okay, was it the 127th he came from?"

"Yeah, good squadron." Sinclair confirmed.

"He's not as good as April though."

"Nobody will be as good as April."

April Green, the former second in command of the Squadron was currently back on Earth recovering from their last battle. She was lucky to be alive after a confrontation with the Dilgar ace that had dogged the Earth fighter groups since the war started. She was an excellent pilot and with luck would be again, but not for many months or even years. Hopefully the war would be long over by then.

"I heard she was back on her feet." Hague mentioned. "Good news."

"Very good news." Sinclair nodded.

"I think I found out who her fiancé is."

"I already know, he's a Captain in the Dutch Marines."

"Really?" Hague frowned. "You didn't mention it."

"Never came up." The Commander shrugged. "He was in the first wave on Balos."

"Oh." Hague's mood dropped. "That's pretty rough."

"I'm guessing he's still down there, but we don't have accurate figures."

"I suppose not."

"He'll be glad to go home and find her walking."

"I hope so, I really do, for both of them." Hague said sincerely. "This war isn't going how I expected it."

"You're alive." Sinclair stated. "That's all you can expect."

"And if I get killed?"

"You won't be around long enough to feel disappointed."

The last missile locked into place, the fork lift retreating and ground crew propelling themselves away.

"Armed and ready." Hague remarked. "I guess we're ready to do this."

"Ready as we'll ever be." Sinclair agreed. "Lets suit up, won't be long now."

Half a fleet away Admiral Hamato left his quarters, calm and unreadable as ever with no hint of fear, doubt or regret. He had made a mistake, it was understandable but still unforgivable. Hamato was not adverse to taking risks, almost always they paid off in the end but not this time. This time his risk and cost Earth seven hundred prime warships and seven hundred valuable crews. He got it wrong, good people had died. He had to put it right.

The expanded bridge of the command grade Dreadnought was a familiar and warming sight. Buried in the chest of the warship it was the beating heart of the fleet, the mind and the nervous system. If he fell over fleet commanders could take over and run the battle from similar ships, but it didn't help to entertain such thoughts for long in the current situation.

"Admiral on deck!" Commander Patel announced, the dark featured woman acknowledging his presence.

"As you were." Hamato said in return. "Time Commander?"

"Thirteen thirty eight hours sir."

"We're on schedule, very good."

"No enemy scouts detected sir, but we're riding close to the beacon, they'll know we're coming."

"They'll be expecting us anyway." Hamato noted calmly, finding his seat and reclining in its firm grasp. "Jha'dur wants a fight as much as we do."

"It seems she's in luck then sir."

Hamato nodded. "We both have the same objective. It's not about territory or buying time anymore. Doesn't matter what worlds you have or how far you expand. This battle has one purpose. Annihilation."

Both Hamato and Jha'dur had stripped down the course of the war to one tremendously simple concept. All the strategy and tactics, the wars of manoeuvre and hammering battles, all of them had the same ultimate goal. To degrade an opponents ability to fulfil their objectives. By far the easiest way to do this was just to fly up to an enemy fleet and erase it from the universe, a clear truth that had somehow become buried in League doctrines but something both Earth and Omelos still understood.

There was nothing complicated or grand here, all either side needed to do was line up and smash the opposition. The only question was how best to do that and keep your own forces alive and firing.

"Any final notices before we charge into the valley of death?" Hamato asked.

"No sir, all ships report battle ready and fully supplied."

"Very well."

"Valley of Death sir?" Patel asked. "If I may say, little morbid Admiral."

"Depends on who is doing all the dying." Hamato suggested calmly. "Not long to go now."

"No sir."

"Little worried Commander?"

"Honestly? Yes sir, petrified."

"Good, if you weren't I'd be concerned about whether you truly grasped the situation. Make no mistake, this is the battle we were meant to fight. A lot rides on it, the fate of the war rests on what we do right now."

He paused making sure the entire bridge could hear.

"We are not super men or women. We are not conquerors or legends or mythical warriors. We are just people, just humans, or Markab or any of the League worlds that have joined us. We don't have gods for fathers or a touch of destiny in our lives. We're just normal people."

He smiled a rare smile.

"Yet we have achieved more than any hero of legend. We are normal people, yet we accomplish the extraordinary because we work together. United, we are unbeatable. The Dilgar are masters of warfare, they will sell their lives dearly and we must be ready to do anything to win, to face any odds and hardships. In the end it is not heroes that change things, but us. The future rests with we few thousand normal everyday people far from home fighting so billions may live in peace and freedom and security. Simple desires, but so easily lost."

He inhaled a long breath.

We are normal everyday people, but it doesn't mean we cannot act like heroes, and it doesn't meant that we can't achieve the impossible."

He gave his bridge staff a prideful nod.

"Good luck, do your jobs, and we'll get through this. Commander."

"Admiral?"

"Signal all ships, action stations."

The trigger was pulled, banners raised and trumpets called. The Markab bent their knees at their stations, offered praise to the heavens and then took their seats and brought their systems to full action readiness. Grand Master Valna was with them, ready to lead his ships into battle and direct them in person, fearing nothing this life could throw at him. The forces assembled, adopted widely spaced jump formations and closed on the last waypoint.

"That's it!" Commander Anderson of the Nemesis announced. "Action stations!"

"Ring it up." Captain Joe Tennant ordered. "Let me hear my girl sing!"

Sirens called and wailed in the halls of the Nemesis, a harsh song of war summoning the crew to their stations. Most were already there, already waiting for final confirmation, for the end of the uncertainty.

"I've been thinking about installing new sirens." Tennant considered. "These ones are nice but a bit, well, boring."

"They are regulation issue sir."

"I know, I know. But I wanted something… jazzier?"

Anderson kept a straight face, he'd had a lot of chances to perfect the look.

"I always liked the cavalry charge on a bugle, more urgent." Tennant said. "Or war drums! I saw that on TV once, they used different war drums to sound different alerts."

"Well sir…"

"I bet I can get the tribe to play a few beats, record them, then use them up here." Tennant smiled. "Make a note. Drums."

"Note taken sir." Anderson didn't write a thing. "Stations closing for action."

Across the ship bulkheads slid shut, sealing of airtight sections to prevent chain decompressions. Secondary reactors stirred to life, bright plasma igniting in their hearts as the fusion generators began supplying extra power across the warship. Fighters slid to the hangar, guns tracked and powered up, main and back up computers ran up to full power and the feeling tentacles of the sensor net glimmered into electronic life.

"All hands, this is the Captain, standby to jump." Tennant announced. "If we nail five enemy Dreadnoughts I promised my wife I'd buy her a new washing machine. Don't disappoint her."

His words raised some smiles across the decks and sections.

"Hoist the colours boys and girls, we've got some party crashing to do!"

Across the ship black flags bearing the skull and crossbones unfurled, a huge morale boost and trait Tennant had brought when he joined. It brought the ship together behind him, gave them confidence and a willingness to follow the Captain anywhere. That dedication had seen them survive attacks that would have claimed any other ship.

"Well, one thing left to do." Tennant said.

Anderson closed his eyes and sighed.

As the Nemesis made its jump to real space, tearing into reality with all guns primed and engines at full, her speakers roared with the sound of the Maori Captain chanting a Haka, a final challenge of battle letting the Dilgar know exactly who they were facing. They probably wouldn't be happy with the information.

"We're moving to jump!" The word came down. "Load up, all fighters scramble, scramble!"

Sinclair and Hague were the first out of the ready room, held there across from the hangar until the last minute to keep them fresh and preserve the fuel reserves of their Furies. They followed the lifelines to their craft, each one named and decorated, served by a small team of ground crew that were right now pulling back out of the hangar deck.

"Move out, move out!" The crew chief hollered. "Clear the deck you monkeys! Get to damage control sectors and await your assignments!"

Sinclair hauled himself into the cockpit, nimbly arranging himself and fastening the straps to keep him secure. Each pilot was helped by a final member of the ground crew, with Sinclair enjoying the attention of the chief himself.

"Okay Commander, we fitted your people up with fresh parts and the best fuel mix we could find." The Chief informed. "It cost me a crate of beer for each plane from the low life at Atlantis station."

"Hell of a price chief." Sinclair grinned. "We'll get your money's worth out of it."

"Give 'em hell sir." He slapped the side of Sinclair's helmet, then pushed away. "Good to go, fire up!"

The fuel and power cables disconnected with a slight hiss and retracted quickly away, the cradles holding the fighters moving forward slowly towards the individual launch bays.

"Out we go!" The Chief yelled finally, making sure all his people were clear before leaving himself, pausing to give a last salute to the departing squadrons.

The canopy closed down, sealing with a dull thud as the constrictors took hold and held it in place. The flight computer ran through its systems, giving Sinclair a green light on everything. They were ready.

"Comms check, sound off Ghost Riders."

One by one each of the squadron answered, each voice as recognisable as family to Sinclair, even April's replacement. It gave him a brief moment to remember her voice would not be checking in this time, and he felt sad that he wouldn't have her by his side. She was a friend, a true friend, and there wasn't any romance there between them to get in the way. He missed her.

"Alright Ghosts, remember the drill." He commented finally. "Watch your partner, watch your sensors, and don't fly straight and level for more than ten seconds."

He waved to Hague on his right, and then to the replacement pilot on his left.

"Let them do their wrost…." He recited the motto of the EAS Illustrious.

"…And we'll do our best." The squadron chimed in reply.

"Live and let die people, lets get out there and end this once and for all."

The arrival of the fleet was suitably spectacular, it was familiar and expected but it was still an event to tug at the sinews and embolden the heart. Stately and majestic columns of capital ships fell into formation, slowly aligning on Balos and preparing to advance as one. Graceful Brakiri ships glided through the skies, tall gravitic fins reminiscent of ancient sailing vessels. Heavy warships settled in the centre of the fleet, a wall of Dreadnoughts that had so often given Earth Victory. Nothing had stopped a Dreadnought attack in full flow, the Dilgar had jumped them out of formation or forced them on the defensive before and earned victory, but against a full attack noting they had deployed had even slowed the heavy ships down.

Ahead of them were the cruisers, Hyperions and Hecates mostly, largely identical save for the weapons fit and superior protection of the more modern Hecate class. Mixed in were Brakiri warships in squadrons on the edges, relatively few in number but still able to make a valuable contribution. Flanking these forces left and right were the Markab, swift and deadly warships produced in massive quantities at the home yards. While the largest Markab ship was less than half the size of a Hyperion it was still a sophisticated and deadly craft, especially in the hands of Valna's new fleet.

Above and below came the Vree, protecting the other flanks from attack and ready to be released to hunt down threats with their ferocious antimatter weapons, pound for pound the deadliest weapons in the fleet. With unrivalled speed and agility the Vree could have easily matched the Dilgar fleets if not for their lack of military know how.

At the rear came the support ships, protected by the slow moving Descari fleet. While certainly dedicated the Descari simply didn't have the quality or quantity to stand on the battle line with the other forces. They protected the Carriers and missile ships, the dozens of human and alien ships not suited for front line action but still essential to battle. As well as human Avenger Carriers there was a selection of League craft, notably Brakiri Cidikar fleet carriers that cut an impressive figure in the assorted ships and sent waves of bombers and fighters to join the allied air wings. Most common however were the Cascor, the great pilots of the League. They had a handful of carriers left to them, most had been annihilated in the disastrous initial campaign of the invasion by Jha'dur, and those now sailed with the fleet greater even than the human vessels. To make up for this the Cascor had converted every freighter, liner or Ore hauler they could lay their hands on into an Auxiliary carrier. It was a weird and wondrous collection of ships, but each brought squadrons of the lethal Cascan Star Skaters to the field, hordes of expertly designed fighters that were arguably the best balanced fighters in the galaxy.

Finally at the rear were the Sagittarius missile ships protected by squadrons of Artemis Rail Gun frigates. The small but surprisingly powerful Artemis class ships were being kept in reserve to plug any gaps or exploit any holes in the enemy formation, while the missile cruisers were looking to repeat their success of Markab, filled with the last strategic reserves of nuclear missiles in the Earth Alliance.

Fighters, bombers, corvettes, frigates, destroyers, cruisers, carriers and dreadnoughts. A fully integrated fleet, one focused unit under one focused purpose. The paused to align themselves, sharp and inspiring in the glint of the distant sun with a blood red nebula colouring the sky behind them.

Then, finally, Admiral Hamato gave his signal and the Liberation navy began its advance.

"Magnificent, I never grow tired of seeing such power." Jha'dur exhaled with genuine awe. "Look at them. Just look at them."

The feed coming in was truly a spectacle, the warships of the alliance arrayed for war closing on their position, a bright and glorious sight without equal. Even the ungainly Earth Force ships looked breathtaking in the perfect interplay of light and shadow.

"To see such a thing in my lifetime." Jha'dur smiled in real wonder. "To live in such days, it is both a curse and at times like this a blessing."

The rows of ships did not pause, gradually picking up a steady speed and moving in from the middle parts of the system towards Balos itself.

"We estimate seven minutes until contact Warmaster." An'jash reported. "It is their main fleet."

"As I predicted." She nodded. "Look at the formation, the spacing is perfect, like a parade. See how he has grouped ships by class so they may concentrate fire on us, but keeps them flexible enough so they can support each other if needed. Very nicely done."

"The same formation they always use."

"If it isn't broken, don't try to fix it." Jha'dur smiled. "It offers them enough flexibility to engage anything we throw at them, and to try and force us to fight to their tune. Don't be fooled by the fact he has drawn up a rigid wall of ships, there is nothing restrictive about that formation."

She tapped the sides of her chair and watched, waited, absorbed the enemy force and tried to see what it was going to do.

"Hamato is playing his strengths. Discipline and firepower. His going to drive right for Balos, right through the middle of us like a battering ram and he's daring us to meet him head on." She smiled wildly. "That's more like it, no fooling around, straight to the bottom line Admiral. That is what I am here for."

She rose from her chair, alive with energy. "He only needs to do one thing to win, hold his formation. He is too well set up to break apart, he can hammer us and if we attack from other flanks he can simply adjust formation. No matter where we attack he can bring tens of thousands of heavy guns to bear. This is going to take some very careful timing."

She bounced down to the tactical screen, comparing formations.

"He'll hold his allies until battle is joined, then send the Vree and Markab to hound us, to hit our flanks and drive us into his guns. Yes, good plan Admiral, very good, quality beats quantity. But not today."

She dropped back into her chair on the bridge of the Sekhmet, crossing her legs and relaxing as if ordering a drink from a club.

"Move us out of cover, right out into the open. Let them see us, let them see who gives battle."

As one the Dilgar ships now came to life, purple ion engines flaring and levelling into pillars of bright flame that pushed the fleet out of the shadow of Balos. They emerged from nowhere, from the blackness. Slipping out of the night in the same way nightmares do, wave after wave of sharp edged warships and trident like fighters. They crept into plain view, adopting an aggressive formation of arrowheads and points, each sub formation integrated into the larger whole. Like the allied fleet the Dilgar made no mistakes, falling expertly into the place given them by their Warmaster.

"Hamato only has to do one thing to win." Jha'dur repeated. "And so do we, all we have to do is break his formation, then swarm him with superior numbers at point blank range."

"Easier said than done Warmaster."

"True Captain. But we've done it before."

"This fleet is larger and more diverse Ma'am."

"So is ours." Jha'dur smiled. "We haven't expended all our tricks yet."

The Dilgar fleet aligned itself on the same plane as the allied one, head to head, nose to nose. One advancing into the light gleaming in the sun, the other shadowed by the bulk of the planet behind them, a poetic meeting of the dark and the light.

"This is how it should be decided, face to face." Jha'dur nodded. "If this is truly my last battle, and I pray the gods it is, then it is the battle I always wanted to fight."

"Warmaster, I'm reading a lot of incoming fighters, mainly human and Cascan."

"Something to keep Ari busy." Jha'dur chuckled. "Release all strike wings, keep the perimeter fighters close."

"Understood Warmaster."

Untied from their lumbering siblings the fighters raced away, a tide of green metal riding on fire towards their opponents. Far ahead Cascan fighters broke away and accelerated, pushing their excellent craft up to their maximum performance. Starfuries followed more slowly, feeling the drag of their simpler engines holding them back from the first exchanges of fire.

The gap narrowed, the stars consumed as metal washed over and obscured them from sight, replaced by grey and green manufactured hulls and the people within.

"Fighters closing into firing range, five minutes until we're in range of the Earth warships."

"History ends today." The greatest of the Warmasters stated quietly. "And begins again tomorrow."

The Cascans opened the battle, racing without fear or hesitation into the cloud of Thoruns with all guns blazing, throwing out missiles and countermeasures in all directions as the Dilgar met them in kind. The lead Cascor squadrons were wiped out in seconds, concentrated fire from the Thoruns cutting apart their great and glorious charge to battle. The Cascor were natural pilots, but their best and brightest were long lost and these were a new and untried generation. The Dilgar pilots had an edge over them in terms of training and discipline, and their fighters were much improved since the original battles in Cascan space.

The fronts of the fighter waves tangled and mangled, fresh waves feeding in behind the twisting front that was dissolving into a wall of gunfire and explosions flashing in the stretching distance. More and more Thoruns piled in, some not even having a chance to shoot before a Cascan Star Skater picked them off. Behind the allied lines fresh Cascan pilots joined in, joined by Markab and Brakiri craft, and then finally right at the back the far more challenging prospect of the massed Earth Force Starfury Squadrons.

"Ghost riders, standby to launch missiles." Sinclair ordered crisply. "Find yourself a mass of bandits and shoot, in this mess that shouldn't be so hard."

The Starfuries pressed on in loose formation, the whole of the heavens alight around them.

"I've never seen anything like this." Hague said in awe. "This is huge!"

"And the heavies haven't even started yet." Sinclair added. "Don't worry about it, focus on what is in gun range and leave the rest to the Admiral."

He dodged half a Cascan fighter, hearing the tingle of debris bouncing off his fighter as they moved in closer. His computer was filled with contacts, but from them separated two likely and unclaimed Thoruns.

"Missiles locked." He announced. "Firing!"

Two of the small weapons shot away, bursting into life and streaking into the midst of the battle. He turned away, the missiles were on their own for now and he could look for new targets. The weapons weaved past the allies, then enemies before hitting the targets with no warning, the Dilgar were so busy they never suspected a killing strike from hundreds of miles away. The rest of the squadron met similar success.

"Nice shooting Ghosts." Sinclair congratulated.

"Permission to engage fighters sir?" Hague asked formally.

"Negative Bill, we've got to kill some warships first, fire off these nukes."

"Yeah, very well sir."

"Come on Bill, how can you feel bad about launching nukes?"

"Just a little anxious to get stuck in sir."

"Plenty of time for that Bill." Sinclair confirmed. "Plenty of time."

The fighter battle rolled and turned, in some parts the opposing craft racing by at insane speeds in others barely crawling, preferring to dodge and weave instead. Some engagements took place hundreds of miles apart, some close enough to see the enemy pilot inside the cockpit. Starfuries burned, Thoruns shattered and Star Skaters were torn out of the sky in showers of violence, a massively intense battle that foreshadowed the uncompromising contest about to erupt between the main forces.

"Our fighter wings are meeting heavy resistance." An'jash reported.

"Stay with the plan." Jha'dur said. "Hold the reserve fighters."

"We're reading a large number of Earth and Brakiri fighters holding back, not engaging."

"Isolate one." Jha'dur ordered. "Get me an image."

Using the flagships enhanced sensors An'jash was able to zoom in on one of the distant Furies and give Jha'dur what she needed.

"Anti ship missiles." The Warmaster noted. "If the humans are equipping their best dogfighters with nukes it means they are very concerned with our ship numbers. So they should be."

"They'll be skirting the main fight Warmaster, their course takes them into the middle of our main destroyer escort groups."

"Taking out our light ships so the Earth heavies can focus on our heavies. Nice and logical." Jha'dur approved. "Fleet status?"

"Our main fleet is about to enter range, veteran forces are holding in reserve, strike wings await orders."

"I think its about time we showed Earth Force we mean business." Jha'dur considered. "Are they holding course and formation?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"Send the details to the strike wings, order them to engage at once. And tell them Captain, that the spirit of Omelos flies with them."

Jha'dur had one more tactic to play, a final piece of the battle she had waited until now to reveal. In hyperspace standing at the edge of the beacon was an additional force of ships made up from a few dozen cruisers and hundreds of new built frigates. The cruisers were nothing special, pre-war designs from the early days of the Imperium, very old, very weak and easy prey even for League ships. What they did have however were jump engines, and they now put those into effect.

"Fresh contacts, hyperspace distortions!" Commander Patel hastily reported, simply interrupting Admiral Hamato as he relayed his own orders to the attack fighter groups. He immediately broke off and focused on the new more pressing situation.

"Number and bearing?"

"Opening on all sides, fifty plus!" Patel shouted, adrenaline pushing her voice higher than she meant it to be. "Less than three hundred miles!"

"Cruisers and Escort units, engage fresh targets as they emerge!" Hamato commanded. "Main force stay focused on the enemy battle line, don't lose focus!"

Jump points opened up around the allied ships, cones of blue light providing fresh illumination to the multicoloured naval vessels. As they formed heavy gun turrets tracked and began firing, crossing the mouths of the jump points with plasma or particle fire. Several units of Vree and Markab ships broke away and moved to intercept, staying clear of the Earth Force firing solutions as they did so.

Jumping directly into combat was usually a bad idea, fleets tended to emerge from hyperspace away from trouble, form up, and then advance on their targets. Jumping in was a good way to close the range, but an opening jump point could be spotted a few seconds before it opened and for a couple of moments ships leaving hyperspace were sensor blind. It usually ended up with a ship stumbling blindly out of a vortex and getting torn apart before it even knew what was happening, only the more advanced races could use the tactic effectively.

This instance was no exception, and the first few Dilgar ships through the vortexes ran into a solid wall of defensive fire. However so many ships came through that despite initial losses the skies around the allied ships soon filled with small Dilgar vessels.

"What are those?" Hmato frowned. "New design?"

"Aye sir." Patel confirmed, calling up a sensor image that rotated in three dimensions on the bridge main screen. "Frigate class, pretty small but with big engines. Fast little ships, they are approaching from multiple directions."

"I see no heavy weapons?"

"No sir, just pulsar batteries." Patel confirmed. "But their forward hull is massively armoured, thicker than our Dreadnoughts."

"Fast, heavily protected, but lightly armed. Some sort of anti fighter frigate designed to operate among our capital ships? Draw our fire maybe?"

"Could be sir."

"Leave them to the escorts." Hamato ordered. "The Vree and Markab can deal with them. Range to main fleet?"

"Twenty seconds."

"All ships are ordered to fire at will, engage anything in their assigned kill zone." The Admiral commanded confidently. "Break us straight through the middle."

The new Dilgar ships crossed the waves of fire, the cruisers that had opened the jump points taking almost total losses within seconds of entering the battle, torn apart by the groupings of Hyperion class cruisers. The blocky green frigates accelerated hard, sweeping past the escorts and exchanging gunfire as they raced into the Earth Force lines, barraged on all sides as they did so.

Vree and Markab ships hunted them down, flying around their larger allies and slashing green or orange energy fire at the targets. Three frigates fell to a storm of antimatter delivered by a pair of Vree saucers, the destructive alien weapons annihilating the attackers in bright explosions and flashes of immolating metal. The frigates themselves claimed a few fighters, but their relatively weak guns proved useless against the heavier human warships and not particularly well suited tot he Markab or Vree hunters.

"Ghost three here." Bill Hague's voice filtered through to Sinclair as he checked targets. "Should we do something about those new ships?"

"Negative, our orders stand." Sinclair replied. "We're still going to run in on a destroyer group, four ships dead ahead, twenty thousand kilometres."

"Got them locked." Hague said.

"Remember to stay clear of the front lines, things are about to hot up and we don't want to be in the middle of it."

He was not wrong. In almost perfect unison the fleet opened up, Heavy cruisers first raining plasma fire in a gigantic three dimensional swarm of blue energy. A few seconds later the Dreadnoughts joined in with their bow guns. The bright display was enough to light up Sinclair's cockpit from hundreds of miles away, the rounds arcing toward the Dilgar. There was darkness for a second, then the resultant fires and explosion in the distance as the weapons fire slammed into the Dilgar front line.

"Now they've done it." Hague remarked. "Just whoever blinks first now."

Dilgar gunfire coursed past in the other direction, much of it meeting interceptor fire but some still got through in plumes of yellow fireballs and twinkling debris. A nearby Hyperion had its side opened up by a raking laser shot, but still held its place in the line and continued firing.

"Okay people, lets go light up those destroyers and join our buddies in the line." Sinclair ordered. "Prep your missiles and follow me in."

The Squadron turned in space and accelerated, joined by several other groups of fighters from various races. They each set their course and advanced, glad to see only a scattering of Thoruns in their way. Even loaded with nukes Sinclair had no doubt his squad could handle the opposition without much trouble.

"Hang on, one of those Dilgar Frigates heading our way!" Hague warned.

"Break formation, scatter!" Sinclair warned, the ugly ship rising on his sensor screen. "Don't give him a clear shot!"

The Starfuries splayed out in different directions, looping and twisting as the enemy ship raced past at full burn, its large engines glowing impossibly bright as it went on. The frigate made a few desultory shots on its way, but hit nothing. Indeed they seemed to be barely aimed.

"Well he was pretty useless." Hague grunted. "Eighty fighters and he runs right past us."

Sinclair watched the frigate diving on the main fleet, taking several plasma hits as it did so.

"He's going for a cruiser, the St Lo."

"He hasn't got a chance in that bucket." Hague dismissed. "Let's form up and get on with it, I'd rather be nailing Thoruns."

"Must be a glory hunter." Sinclair kept watching, the entire flank of the frigate falling aside in fire as the EAS St Lo battered it with secondary guns, her bow plasma batteries otherwise engaged against the main Dilgar line. The frigate was actually doing quite well, its substantial armour letting it take multiple hits where larger ships would have been blasted apart by now.

"I think he's going to make it past." Sinclair remarked, the flaming ship still accelerating.

The Dilgar frigate travelled on, taking a few more hits as the Earth Force cruiser held a steady course, its turrets tracking and discharging. With no warning and with clear intent, the frigate swung its bow up and at flank speed crashed into the side of the St Lo, connecting at the structural strong point where the habitation towers met the long forward hull.

The entire ship bent by thirty degrees, the keel of the cruiser was made of the strongest materials known to ship building but still couldn't hold rigid against the force of the impact. The hull bulged and rippled, tremors shaking the inside of the ship apart blowing cables and airtight doors wide open. Plasma feeds to the main guns split spraying super hot material everywhere in a stunning fountain of light bursting from the impact point. The engines cut out, lights went dead, but the ship held together and stayed in one piece.

Until the remains of the Dilgar frigate vanished in a nuclear glow, consuming the St Lo with it.

"Holy…" Hague managed. "Crazy son of a…"

He was cut off by a second massive flash of nuclear light as a second Dilgar frigate buried itself in a human ship and then exploded, followed soon after by a third.

"What the hell?" Hague demanded.

"Suicide ships!" Sinclair reached the only conclusion. "They're using kamikaze strikes!"

"I knew they were insane, but not this much!" Hague cried.

Two frigates rammed a Dreadnought before exploding, crunching into the belly of the ship. The explosion stripped away its guns and broke its back, separating the massive warship into two truncated halves that spewed fire from every inch of their shattered remnants.

"I'm cancelling the orders!" Sinclair snapped. "Forget the destroyers, arm missiles and chase down these Frigates!"

The Ghost riders immediately changed course and formation, accelerating hard into the crucible. The Alllied fleet quickly woke up to the danger, concentrating more defensive fire on the Dilgar ships. However they had been well built for their role, they were fast, agile and hard to hit, and any impacts were often shrugged off by the thick armour.

The Vree and Markab redoubled their efforts, in one case a Markab corvette performing its own suicide attack to prevent one of the Dilgar ships hitting a Nova, the two small ships falling away in flames. Sinclair spotted one of the ships racing past and locked on, receiving fire from its defensive guns for his troubles. He ignored the danger, dodging the white energy bolts and slotting in behind the frigate. He held for a second, then launched his nuke.

The missile passed clean between the engines and exploded in a glorious yellow sphere, the Dilgar ship instantly reduced to tiny scraps.

Around him the fleet was reacting, Dreadnoughts directing salvos at the Dilgar frigates hoping weight of fire would save them, sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't. Sinclair could only watch as a Nova was struck, the hull bending in an arch as a third of the warships mass ceased to exist following the detonation.

It was horrifying to see, massive ships of the line broken and hollowed out before his eyes while the area around the allied fleet turned into a firestorm of defensive weaponry and racing escorts trying to bring down the Dilgar suicide vessels before it was too late.

It was exactly the result Jha'dur had dreamed of, exactly what she had built and designed these ships for. They had just one purpose, one role in a fleet battle and that was to give their lives for Omelos. She could lose ten thousand people attacking a Dreadnought conventionally, or just a hundred attacking like this. She had a way of beating the legendary human ships, she just needed crews fanatical enough to do it. The schools of Omelos had proven ideal recruiting grounds.

"Delegor class Frigates are inflicting substantial losses on the enemy." An'jash said with relish.

"The Blood wind." Jha'dur named the tactic. "Something from the old days, suicide attacks. The greatest honour a warrior could achieve."

"They're certainly earning their reputation Warmaster." An'jash agreed, not quite believing the utter carnage playing out among the allied fleets.

"You know the humans had the same thing? Kamikaze they called it." Jha'dur mentioned. "They understand what we're doing here, they've faced it before."

"Warmaster, enemy fire is slackening!"

"They're on the defensive, engaging the frigates and not us." She grinned. "This is it Captain, this is what we we're waiting for!"

"They are taking evasive action! The human fleet is breaking up! They are losing formation!"

Jha'dur leaned forward in her chair, fixing the explosion dotted allied fleet with a hunters stare.

"Our turn."

Jha'dur released her fleet, they broke out of their formation and grouped back into smaller task forces, pushing up to full power and racing for the Earth and League ships to add to their woes. There was still a lot of incoming fire and whole Pentacans still vanished in clouds of hot gas and debris, but it wasn't enough to hold back the sheer tide of incoming Dilgar vessels. They swarmed forward, aiming to split the Human fleet and overwhelm the mighty ships ten or more to one. Instead of the ordered lines of battle Jha'dur was forcing a melee, one she hoped to win by numbers.

Hamato could see it falling apart before his eyes, over the course of just two minutes it had all changed, his ships were under heavy attack, out manoeuvred and heavily engaged with the main enemy force only now preparing to attack.

"Admiral, that was the Roma."

Patel kept her eyes fixed on the burning engine section of a dreadnought on the screen, the four bulky tubes the only recognisable part of the ship left.

His formation was infiltrated, ships were out of place, either evading or simply destroyed, turned to molten scrap by the simple yet lethal little ships. The fleet was hitting back hard, every gun was speaking and engaging opponents up close or at range. To make matters worse missile armed Thoruns were now flying straight through his perimeter, the escorts that would have dealt with them either destroyed or facing the bigger threat of the suicide frigates.

"Dilgar main fleet is closing to point blank, they're engaging by squadron!" Patel warned. "They're going to be right on top of us!"

Hamato kept a straight face, despite the frantic situation battling in his head. This was an incredibly bad situation, he'd lost the initiative, his line was broken and he was about to get hammered by massive numbers of hostiles while his warships were already fighting for their lives. He would be within his rights to break and run, but he wouldn't. This battle was still winnable.

"Orders Admiral?" Patel asked needily. "Sir?"

"Dissolve the line."

She had to wait for it to register. "Sir? You want to abandon formation?"

"They've split the fleet, it's already abandoned." Hamato said. "Regroup by task force."

"Yes sir."

"Fall back to the Balosian moon, bring up rail frigates and have them engage at will release all League ships and all fighters. I want those frigates gone first, then hit the main fleet."

"Yes sir."

"Jha'dur wants to fight this on a squadron level? Fine, I'll bet on an EA Task Force over her Pentacans any day of the week."

"Orders going out, but we're going to vulnerable while we redeploy, and they're almost on us."

Hamato shook his head. "We'll buy some time. She's not the only one with a back up plan."

He flicked the secure comms channel open.

"General Skorzeny, this is fleet command. Code Abraxis, saturation nuclear strike is authorised." Hamato spoke calmly, ready to remind the Dilgar what real firepower looked like. "Drop the hammer General, nuke 'em."

At the far end of the fleet the order was picked up at once and sent through the decoder.

"I want sub channel ID right now!" Skorzeny demanded, acutely aware that time was of the essence. He could have engaged at once, but with the sheer weight of megatonnage under his control he had to be very, very sure about shooting it all in go.

"Confirmed sir, message is authentic."

"Firing stations!" The gruff officer ordered. "Set guidance pattern Alpha-Alpha, maximum yield on all weapons!"

The firing solution quickly laid in, the pre-set series of coordinates, firing sequences and target priorities was held in each vessel, carefully planned for maximum coverage of an enemy fleet with no risk of one nuke destroying several others before they detonated. The timing was all handled automatically, with ranges calculated every millisecond and updated in flight.

The arming circuits closed, internal power took over and the pre-ignition sequence started up, bringing the ion engines of the missiles on line, fifty six per ship scattered over five hundred warships.

"Ready to fire!" The tactical officer reported sharply.

"Ripple fire all tubes!" Skorzeny directed with a little relish. "Empty the silos and standby to get us out of here."

As before during the Battle of Markab the Earth Force missile ships delivered their missiles, launched sequentially with a tiny pause between each neighbouring tube to give the leading missile time to accelerate away the massed ships did the only thing they were meant to do. Hundreds, then thousands of missiles stabbed into the sky, blue backed darts that arched through the sky, glowing red in the nebula's hazy presence far behind boiling the storms of a red hell.

The Dilgar ships were closing fast, but the missiles were much faster. They would hit Jha'dur before she made it in and among the human fleet and became safe from such massively indiscriminate firepower.

The cloud of missiles filled the tactical data screens of both fleets, and for a short time the incoming Dilgar fire stopped as Jha'dur's fast closing ships began to spread out and focus on the massive new threat.

"All Starfuries be aware, carpet barrage on the way, clear the fire zone!" Patel warned on an open frequency. "All strike wings fall back at once!"

"We send in suicide ships, they saturate us with nukes." Warmaster Jha'dur chuckled. "They don't like being out done do they?"

"No Ma'am." An'jash nodded.

"Remind me to explain the human obsession with 'Having the last word' as they say one day."

An'jash was not entirely certain they'd have much chance to see, let alone talk in the future with the amount of missiles heading their way.

"No active sensors Warmaster, they're pre-programmed."

"A saturation strike, we can't jam or fool them." Jha'dur noted. "They'll be targeted on an area rather than a particular ship, fully autonomous, regular countermeasures won't be enough."

"I'm setting all guns to defensive fire." An'jash stated.

"Do so, and engage evasive action." Jha'dur ordered. "We expected this, we planned for it. Send the reserve pilots, death or glory Captain."

"Orders away."

The missile strike was every bit as massive as its predecessor. Hamato knew Jha'dur would be expecting it, expected her to have planned some sort of way around it, he knew it wasn't going to have the same impact as it had at Markab. But he also reasoned that with such a massive strike whatever she did a lot of nukes would get through and smash the Dilgar fleet, even out the numbers, and put the initiative back in his hands.

It might not be the undisputed hammer blow of the early war months, but it was still one hell of a way to level the playing field.

Even though they were relatively small the missiles caught the light in such a way that they sparkled all around the fleet. For a brief moment the Allied ships were surrounded in glittering silver and blue, the sleek tubes of the missiles shimmering as they swept around and turned to point their noses at the Dilgar fleet. Thousands of tremendously powerful weapons nosing over in the same moment, lining up on their targets in an ominously slow turn that saw them hang for a brief moment in empty space. Then the engines kicked up to full power and they hurtled at the Dilgar lines in one gargantuan tide of steel and blue starlight.

"Launch countermeasures!" Jha'dur ordered. "Bring them down, fire proximity missiles!"

The Dilgar fleet rippled with light as the wide range of guns opened up, everything from light pulsars to anti ship bolters, everything was aimed at the missiles and fired in huge quantities. But the designers of the Earth Force missiles were no fools, each weapon weaved an evasive course to make it harder to hit and dropped various decoys as it approached, all trying to guarantee that the nuclear payload arrived where it was supposed to.

Amid the gunfire were Dilgar nukes, almost every remaining one in the stockpiles. They were launched at the incoming strike, racing up and detonating amid the human weapons in bright shining light. They used their nukes to try and stop the Earth force ones, and in many cases it worked, in some cases the massive barrage of cannon fire worked, but enough missiles were still on track to cause stupendous damage.

But Jha'dur had not yet deployed her main counter tactic. Under An'jash's orders the fleet released its reserve fighters, wave after wave of dart fighters swam up from the warships and aimed for the incoming missiles, using their agility to bring their guns to bear and their speed to engage before they approached too close to the fleet.

These fighters were not veterans, those pilots were too valuable to give away like this. Jha'dur severely doubted most of these people would return, they were fresh recruits, young and eager to die for Omelos. Jha'dur had no qualms about playing on their patriotism and sending them to their deaths.

They had orders to destroy the missiles at all costs. To shoot them down if possible, or just collide with them if necessary.

Suicide ships were Jha'dur's final solution to the war. In her mind these people were already dead, if they fought conventionally Earth Force would slaughter them in droves anyway. At least this way they could take a few humans with them, and Jha'dur certainly had the numbers to spare. Her new fleet was brimming with confident rash warriors who were in total awe of her, the Great Deathwalker, destroyer of worlds. They would do anything for her and the greater glory of Omelos, right up to these kind of certain death missions. They went without fear or shedding a tear, ending their young lives on the word of a Warmaster. Jha'dur had never known power like it, giving orders to dedicated crew was one thing, but dictating to such worshipful individuals was something very different.

In the past it would probably have boosted her ego no end, but by this time too much had happened for her to feel anything personal about the adoration. It was a tool for her to use, and one she did with customary skill in service of her home and the future.

The flew nobly and gloriously, wreathed in the fire of the fleet, bright lights rushing past them and demarking their path to glory and the afterlife. They met the barrage with all guns blazing, trying to fight through the decoys and ECM to lock onto the lethal weapons. Some of them did, though more by luck than skill, bolter fire piercing the thin metal bodies and bursting them apart. More often though the computers failed and they had to engage visually, aiming through crosshairs and scattering gunfire in the path of the missiles.

The Earth Force nukes were big targets, but also moving at tremendous speed. The Thorun pilots simply dropped themselves in the path of the incoming ordnance, pushed the trigger and get their fingers pressed down until the missile exploded, or hit them. Either way they would have done their duty.

The young pilots fell in vast swarms, most of them failing to hit the missile or damage it enough to prevent an inevitable collision. Some of them left it too late and the high velocity debris carried by momentum sliced their fighters apart link a gust of knives, others achieved their objective and lived a little while longer, long enough to try their new found luck against a Starfury or interceptor grid.

There were also many missiles that were not intercepted, that slipped through the nuclear blasts, gunfire and suicidal fanatics in fighters. They held their course, made final corrections, then did what they were designed to do.

The timed detonations were still spectacular, still a truly soul grabbing moment that transcended normal everyday experience. It should have been a once in a lifetime experience for anyone seeing it, but for Earth Force Command it was just one more tactic, albeit a rare and insanely expensive one.

These blasts were a little too close for comfort to the allied fleet and disrupted the sensor nets for a while, forcing the sensitive equipment to shut down while the riotous energy passed by and decreased enough to resume normal operations. Visual scans showed a wall of light, bright and amazing spheres of light stretching across space in a fiery barrier, a curtain of hellish destruction that had dropped on the Dilgar fleet in great fury.

"Confirm detonation." Commander Patel said, doing her job despite the slight redundancy of reporting what was clear to see.

"How many got through?" Hamato asked.

"I don't know sir, calculating."

The Allied fleet was still busy fending off fighter and frigate attacks, its guns never halting or its fighters slowing. But even so there was an air of tension, of anticipation. The Earth Fleet had dropped its biggest leveller, the tactic they were counting on to gut the Dilgar or at least break them so badly the battle would be all but decided. The entire war hung on a thread, pitched on this one singular moment. What happened next could decide final victory, if Jha'dur'' fleet was shattered all the allies had to do was mop up local space and then turn on Omelos itself.

They waited, and waited.

The blazing tumult shifted, darkened, parted. From its heart several dark shapes burst through at high speed, battle scarred Dilgar warships trailing smoke and flame but still advancing, screaming at flank speed towards the incredibly close Earth Force ships and the League support.

"Admiral…" Patel began.

"I see them Commander."

The entire curtain of fire changed shape and colour as a mass of dark hulls cruised through in loose formation, scores of ships turning to hundreds and finally thousands. Escorts, cruisers and battleships joined by the best of the Dilgar fighter corps, the last of the veteran ships and pilots.

Their numbers had been thinned by the strike, the losses were enormous among the front ranked ships of the Grand Fleet, but those ships were cheap and expendable. The ones emerging from the furnace, punching through the flames of hell itself were the best Jha'dur had, marshalled and poised for this one, last glorious attack.

Flames licked around the bottom of the Battlecruiser Vendatta as she passed through the maelstrom, the shields unaffected by the residual radiation and expending matter. Every ship was needed in this battle, if it could fight it was expected to be at the front taking on a human vessel at point blank range. Jha'dur did not exclude herself from this, facing the same risks as her officers. There was no more need for central command, her fleet was split and she had entrusted her junior officers to fight as appropriate. The battle would be won now by individuals, by the skill and courage of single crews and single ships. It was strangely old fashioned, and that appealed to the Warmaster.

"Admiral, hostiles closing hard." Patel spoke in a hollow voice, her mind not sure how to react to the flame streaked warships barrelling down on them.

"Order all batteries, reset parameters for close range salvo fire." Hamato said with infuriating calm. "We're in a knife fight now, engage by taskforce and continue to regroup at the moon."

Both sides had taken blows, wrecks and damaged vessels dotted the two clumps of naval power, but as the two sides collided their fury was not dimmed or clouded. Earth Force delivered crushing waves of gunfire into the faces of the incoming force, the point blank range giving them guaranteed hits at optimal fire power, the plasma rounds barely dispersing before they crashed physically through the prows of the incoming green hulled ships. In turn many Dilgar vessels simply flew into their human counterparts, twisting and distorting the human ships into unrecognisable burning lumps.

If there was one thing Earth Force could claim as an advantage it was the firepower of its ships. Nova dreadnoughts cut whole Pentacans out of existence, the neat triangles of ships turning into massive clouds of fire and wreckage with a few seconds of exposure to broadside fire. Hyperion cruisers, themselves able to match the power of Dilgar Dreadnoughts slammed through enemy vessels with little resistance, denting and ploughing through enemy ships with showers of light.

The Dilgar were prepared for it, taking the losses and pushing through into the ranks and knots of allied ships. At such close range the interceptor grids had a hard time tracking fast enough to stop most of the incoming fire, the thick bolts of charged particles splashing and piercing the thick sides of the human ships, the overcharged weapons just about powerful enough to inflict damage to even the mighty Dreadnoughts.

Fire wreathed ships from both sides, ripples of energy sliding over hulls and haloing the combatants, pieces of wreckage flying off warships, launched by direct hits or internal detonations. Both sides were well trained and dedicated, both sides could hurt each other. Now it came down to which fleet broke last, the fate of billions rested on it.

"Pour it on!" Sinclair yelled. "This isn't a garden party! Bloody move!"

The Ghost Riders shone through the melee in a glitter of burning ships and roaring engines. In perfect sequence they turned through the empty void and headed for the thickest fighting and their area of responsibility.

"Ghost leader to Lusty control, we are closing fast."

"Understood." The comms officer on their parent ship, the Illustrious greeted them with clear relief. "We've got a lot of company, engage at will."

The Dilgar fleet began losing speed and fighting at the same pace as the human ships, sweeping back and forth through the lines engaging wherever they could. Markab and Vree ships gave chase, and a sort of oversized dogfight grew where the various agile warships engaged and spun around each other, all the while barraged by the steel floating islands of the human taskforces.

The human fleet was slowly looping around, changing course from Balos to the nearby moon. The moon would not only give them a clear rally point but would also give them a large obstacle to put their backs to an limit the Dilgar advantage in agility, allowing the human ships to put their blind spots to the moon and rely on the enormous ball of rock to watch their backs.

Getting there however was not going to be easy, and with Dilgar ships as thick as flies in all directions the gunnery crews had their work cut out. The space around the intermingled fleets was a sea of fire, a constant glowing inferno raging on all sides in all directions as warships fired, exploded and battled through the damage to stay in action. There was no place to hide or flee to, the only option they had was to fight through and do as much damage as possible.

At the front of the loose fleet was Taskforce 28, and as the leading element they were receiving more than their fair share of attention. This wasn't a huge problem for the two Dreadnoughts, their massed batteries gleefully ripping enemy warships apart at medium range before the Dilgar could effectively fight back, but they couldn't do much to the large numbers of enemy fighters racing through the small fleet.

"Targets in sight!" Sinclair announced, lining up on the taskforce, the vaguely triangular pale hull of the carrier standing out clearly. "Break and attack!"

The Taskforce was defending itself admirably, the two Hyperions chugging gunfire to aid the Dreadnoughts while their lighter guns swept after fighters. Escort Corvettes likewise filled the air with interceptors, blasting flak cannisters from their rail guns into the paths of enemy strike wings, in one case obliterating five nuke armed Thoruns in one shot. The nightmare of point defence fire was deadly effective, surrounding the ships in flashes of light, each one signifying a Dilgar killed.

But there were enough Dilgar pilots who had trained to beat interceptors, and they were a lot harder to stop. Those pilots had better fighters to match their skills, and it was they who caught the attention of the Ghost Riders.

The Starfuries made an immediate impression, gunning down half a squadron in their opening salvoes before descending into the point blank combat. Hague was immersed in dancing lights and shadows, distractingly beautiful but instantly deadly. He dodged the firing solution of the Carrier, cutting across its interceptor lines and rolling hard onto the tail of a racing Thorun, the white hull of the warship flying past like a blizzard. The enemy craft pulled away, snapping around to try and engage him.

"Nimble little…" Hague cursed as he dodged, wing thrusters exploding in bursts of blue to push him roughly out of the way.

He avoided the fire and returned his own, missing twice before striking the agile craft squarely.

"They've definitely upgraded their fighters!" He shouted through the intercom.

"I noticed!" Sinclair replied. "Watch out folks, these guys know the business!"

One of the corvettes shook in fire, Digar heavy gunfire shredding the furthermost side as a Tratharti gunship slipped into the battle, a class only subordinate to Mishakurs and the new Sekhmets. At once the two cruisers switched targets, The Boudica and Justinian unloading plasma fire into the enemy ship with great alacrity, streams of blue energy stitching the hull and blooming flames. The Dilgar ship fired back, punching a shot clear through the Boudica's lower tower and severing her bottom turrets. The gunship rolled away in flames, the Justinian smashing the enemy vessels engines and forcing it out of control before Boudica delivered the final word, blasting it into several large slabs.

"Lusty to fleet, watch zone eight, fresh enemy wings incoming!"

The hard pressed defenders turned their attention upwards, Sinclair catching sight of an flaming Hyperion spearing through a Dilgar Dreadnought in the distance, the act triggering a river of light that consumed both ships in slowly expanding waves.

New Thoruns dropped into the desperate party, some clearly rookies and others displaying the poise of old pilots.

"Ignore the newbies Ghosts, follow me and go for the businessmen."

The twelve Starfuries cut straight past the newer fighters, leaving them for the defence grids of the various warships and hurried into action with the more dangerous hostiles, already seeing even more Thoruns noticing the battle and turning toward it.

The craft closed evenly, both allies and enemy knowing how best to deploy.

"Watch your spacing." Sinclair warned for the umpteenth time. "mark targets!"

His fighter cruised on like the work of art it was, all but silent and perfect in the cockpit. Everything was optimal, beautifully poised and clear. He could see the enemy, he could see the guns just under his feet and the polished surfaces of his wingmates. It was so crisp, like a picture awaiting a frame. He could almost have described it as peaceful and relaxing if not for the reality of the planes out there wanting to kill him.

He calmly lined up, centring his thoughts on the matter at hand, letting his senses guide him and not over thinking his strategies. Instinct would lead him, he gave himself over to gut reactions and fabled intuition, becoming part of the warplane. He gently extended his hands, slightly adjusting the controls to move into the optimum kill position, and then in a moment of tranquility opened fire.

The blue rain of pulses turned the enemy to fighter into scrap at long range, the Dilgar pilot not expecting that sort of accuracy at such range. Sinclair was already on the next in line, and was aiming for a third by the time the two groups of craft passed by each other in blinks of grey and green.

One of his craft, one of his older members failed to evade fast enough and lost an engine, spinning right into the front of the Thorun that had winged him and taking both craft down in a sombre fireball. The rest of the unit turned as hard as they could and pursued the survivors, showing why they were the best pilots in earth Force.

More and more Dilgar fighters piled in, for every Thorun shot down another rose to take its place. The Ghost Riders were fighting magnificently, never tiring or failing, battling with such skill and expertise they barely seemed real. And yet the tide did not diminish, and with the fighters came more enemy warships to test this hard fighting Taskforce, one battlegroup fighting among so many.

"Six, make that seven contacts closing hard!"

Captain Tennant accepted the order with a curt nod, thoroughly committed to seeing his ship and crew survive the day in as few pieces as possible.

"This is going to be close, those ships are moving fast."

A squad of Dilgar cruisers with Destroyer escort closed on the Taskforce, scattering bolt fire as they approached.

"Gustavus is already heavily engaged!" Commander Anderson warned. "We're on our own on this one!"

"Beats Captain Solomon trying to get credit for this girls kills!" Tennant snarled at the prospect of the hunt. "Set for final barrier fire, point blank envelope! Salvo fire at will!"

The Nova swung her cannons on target, the enemy ships coming in from an oblique angle and very wisely trying to avoid the broadsides of the immense warship. The laser cannons fire din stutters, one second bursts designed to penetrate and knock down the enemy craft rather than cleave them in two. It was less damaging but allowed much higher rates of fire and in such a thick enemy environment that was by far the biggest concern.

The four destroyers were fast kills, one outright exploding after one hit while the rest gradually succumbed over several more. The cruisers were harder, each shot burning like a blow torch into the thinly armoured ships and sparking great fires and carnage within. One of them failed to turn with its sisters, picking up a roll and leaving the fighting, its command crew presumably immolated. The other two stayed under control and turned to face the ship head on.

The bridge rattled as Bolter fire impacted several hundred yards away, battering the heavy armour.

"Those ships are heading straight for us." Tennant pointed out, the image of them framed by outgoing laser fire.

"I see that sir, guns are tracking!"

"If they hit my ship I'll be pissed!" Tennant said.

"I know sir!"

"We only just got finished picking kitty bits out of the hull after last time!"

"Yes sir!"

The Nemesis held her nerve, drowning the enemy ships in fire. The fast moving Dilgar vessels fell apart just a few hundred yards away, rolling into fireballs that scraped by on either side of the Earth warship framing her in a ring of bright fire, one the Nemesis cruised through with all guns roaring in defiance. A picture of the indomitable spirit of both ship and crew.

"Kiss my arse kitty!" Tennant shook his fist at the wrecks. "Next!"

Sinclair swung under the hull of the Illustrious, noting a sharp edged hole fifty feet wide in the armour as he passed by, the ship leaking white clouds of atmosphere from several ruptures. Behind him a pair of Dart Fighters gave chase, and behind them Hague followed giving the appropriate support to his leader.

"Come on, come on." Hague gritted his teeth, firing a few rounds with no success. The upgraded Dilgar fighters were a serious nuisance to try and dogfight with.

"Anytime Bill!" Sinclair called. "I got better things to do you know!"

"I'm on it!" He fired again, this time clipping the wing of a Thorun and writing it off as it spun away at insane speed. He lined up on the last one, sharply dodged a section of one of the destroyed escort Corvettes that crossed his path, then finally hit the remaining Thorun in a clean kill.

"You're getting too old for this Hague!" Sinclair jostled the young pilot. "Back on my wing, we're almost at the moon."

Ahead there was a bright glow as the Nemesis made her bold statement of defiance, cruising past her latest scores.

"Captain Tennant just doesn't do anything quiet does he?" Sinclair observed wryly.

"Wouldn't be the same guy if he did." Hague chuckled, then quickly returned to business. "Here we go again."

The fighters peeled off and slid again into action, picking out well piloted Thoruns and latching onto them, either bringing them down or distracting them enough for the interceptor batteries to handle. The Taskforce was slowly grinding down, the Boudica was grimly fighting on but the Justinian beside her was a sheet of fire, torn through by repeated attacks by enemy cruisers. Yet she too fought on, the majority of her crew dead and bridge smashed, her guns tracked and fired under local control at anything that crossed into arc.

Elsewhere the Earth Force fleet was taking a similar battering, and so too where her allies. The Brakiri held their place in the battle, their warships incorporated into human taskforces where they battled valiantly despite being prime targets for Dilgar ships sensing easy kills. The Vree saucers swung through battle tirelessly, still chasing small groups of fast moving light vessels and fighting their duels largely unnoticed by the titans exchanging fire elsewhere.

Fearless of all were the Markab, charging into concentrations of enemy ships and breaking them up, time and time again saving Earth Taskforces from being overwhelmed and allowing their allies to deal with the Dilgar on a manageable scale. The Markab losses were gigantic, yet still they attacked without flinching and repaid the blood debt owed their allies.

"Almost there!" Sinclair repeated. "Don't lose it now!"

He and Hague tore through the battle, slashing plasma fire into enemy fighters as they went, hurtling feet above waves of enemy fighters that attacked without pause and without end. Interceptors glowed bright white with heat, their rate of fire slackening but not their accuracy.

Finally the Task force began settling into orbit of the moon, the rest of the fleet following them. The intensity of the battle didn't abate, but it did cut down on Jha'dur's options a little and put the patter on action more on slow moving human terms.

"Check sensors!" Hague warned. "I got frigates inbound."

Sinclair quickly ran a scan, picking up the ships rounding the moon. His heart sank like a stone. "Ah hell, suicide vessels! All ships all ships, kamikazes on the way!"

At once the focus of the battle changed, the warships delivering the weight of their fire into the path of the terrifying new Dilgar units. As they did so it gave the Dilgar fighters more opportunity to hit the warships directly, and that then became Sinclair's responsibility.

He roared into action, taking up the job of the defensive batteries and tying himself the the Carrier, cutting in front of a strike group with Hague beside him and firing up as momentum carried him sideways, wiping the missile armed craft out of the sky. He had no time to pause frantically engaging another threat, and then another.

He was so focused he could not help the Justinian, the long lasting cruiser finally exploding as nuclear missiles tore open her reactor. He fought hard to protect the carrier, focusing on just one ship and throwing his entire soul into its defense.

The Nemesis thundered through the sky raining firebolts in all directions, her sister the Gustavus doing likewise. Both heavy ships were getting swamped by fighters, with The Starfuries trying to keep the Carrier alive they were stuck fending for themselves. Fire ran across their hulls, but they could endure it for now, taking the damage and dishing out far worse in their turn.

"Stay on it Ghost six, Ghost six?" Sinclair demanded, his call answered by sudden static.

"Six is down!" Hague shouted. "They're everywhere!"

"Do not stop!" The Commander slammed his fighter hard over, rotating and firing as a Thorun passed by at an oblique angle. "Stay with the Carrier!"

Everything was way too close, the Starfuries were built for dog fighting at point blank range but this was far beyond what the designers envisioned. There were just so many Thoruns, such vast numbers, that even the elite were starting to lose their grip on the battle.

Everything changed with a shattering explosion, one that seemed to make every pilot look around to the source, friend and foe. The Heavy Cruiser Boudica was falling apart, barely any of her forward hull remaining after a suicide ship found its target.

The small frigates were among them, most of them were shredded by the massive defensive fire but a few cripples had limped into range and attacked the Taskforce.

"Ghost's attack now!" Sinclair roared, but to little effect. With no anti ship missiles there wasn't much they could do.

Both Nemesis and Gustavus slaughtered the enemy ships, the two Dreadnoughts standing like castles in the stars. They were hard pressed defending themselves, and so when one half dead frigate dashed for the Illustrious there was nothing, nothing they could do.

The Suicide ship was met by every gun that could bear on target, but the old Carrier had nothing to take on such a well armoured unit and was too slow to evade. The Dilgar ship hit at an angle and actually bounced off the back of the human warship, but its nuke packed hull still detonated beside the white hull. The detonation smashed the engines, stripped away half the hull and killed main power. By some miracle she didn't outright explode and a large area of the forward hull remained secure and protected.

Sinclair and his squadron had to get clear fast as the suicide ship exploded, barely avoiding getting caught themselves. He was so busy he didn't notice the Dilgar cruiser that nearly collided with him. Cursing himself he turned hard, pulling up and running parallel to the ship for a moment, the green hull filling his eyes, before completing the turn and heading into open space again. The enemy ship raced on up, his eyes following it right into the belly of the Adolphus Gustavus, the mighty Dreadnought heaving as the Dilgar ship flattened itself against the hull.

Amazingly that alone wasn't enough to kill the ship. Bent and twisted she held together, even maintained power, but was too shaken to face the two suicide frigates that sensed blood and charged her. The Nemesis vaporised one, and blew the second in half, but that half still connected and in one more blinding flash, one among so many, the Gustavus was lost.

In less than thirty seconds Taskforce 28 had gone from almost full strength to nothing, so sudden and violent was the Dilgar attack, so fanatically carried through. Only the Nemesis and two Corvettes remained, damaged but still shattering any Dilgar unit that dared approach them.

Sinclair felt he had taken a knife to the heart, he had thrown everything into defending the Carirer, his home for many months, and he had failed. He could see Commodore Chambers still on the command deck, he could hear the Crew Chief wish him luck, he could feel on his fingers right now the ships crest that every pilot touched on the way to the hangar. It was all tangible and real, yet all slipping away.

The front of the ship glided peacefully away, falling towards the moon in its inescapable grip.

"Commander? Sir?" he heard Hague on the radio. "What do we do?"

Sinclair's eyes stayed on the falling ship, the battle moving on somewhere else, only the dead inhabiting this sector now.

"We link up with Nemesis, she still needs cover." He resolved. "Let's keep Tennant kicking arse."

"Understood sir."

He couldn't look away from the Illustrious, the broken hull making its final trip to its final rest. He didn't know if anyone was left inside, probably not. He hoped not. To be trapped in a failing ship was not something he wished on anyone, the long agonising minutes as hope and life slipped away. Better to end it quick, a final rush of flame and then peace.

He glimpsed motion, a shape passing the ruins of the Justinian. It could have been debris, or maybe the husk of a fighter, but he just knew instinctively it wasn't.

"Hague, I said break and join the Nemesis."

"I was waiting for you boss." The young man replied.

"Just go, I'll follow on soon." He ordered. "Do your best Bill, whatever happens, just do your best and never get blinded to the truth."

"Okay sir." He said awkwardly, not sure what he meant.

"Now break, get gone!"

"Aye sir, heading up."

Hague burned his engines and took off, joining the fight that still clammered furiously above leaving Sinclair alone. But of course he was not alone.

"I was waiting for you." He said quietly as the black Thorun slipped out of cover and moved slowly towards him. "Knew you wouldn't miss a fight like this."

The Dilgar ace, Commander Ari'shan, last son of the Supreme Warmaster of the Dilgar Imperium glided under minimal power. He didn't take evasive action, he wasn't in battle. Not yet.

Sinclair watched him, also no taking any offensive action as the dark craft approached, simply watching it come closer with the war raging in the back ground behind it. Ari'shan fired his thrusters gently and slowed, coming to a relative stop just feet from Sinclair's Fur, and still neither of them fired.

"We've got something to finish." Sinclair remarked. To his surprise the radio crackled on beside him.

"Human fighter, can you hear me?"

It spoke in English, but the voice was not one of his squadron, he saw it was an open frequency. He thought he saw the Dilgar pilot's lips move as the message came in.

"I can hear you… Dilgar pilot."

Opposite him the man waved in the cockpit, a laugh filtering through.

"Good, I did not want to continue without at least paying my respects."

"Respects?"

"You, David Sinclair, are the greatest pilot I know. For that reason, and for reasons your fleet is displaying right now, it is the greatest honour of my life to meet you and share these words."

Sinclair didn't believe what he was hearing. "You're serious?"

"About this. Entirely."

"Your name is Ari'shan isn't it?"

"That's right, yes. You know of me?"

"Just the name, and what I've seen." Sinclair said. "You rate as the best pilot I have ever seen."

Ari smiled. "Then we are both in good company."

They held there, staring at each other while the galaxy burned.

"You know what I have to do?" Sinclair asked.

"I know." Ari accepted. "It is why we are both here, we can't change it. I hold you no malice David Sinclair, but my honour demands that we fight. We are enemies."

"We are." Sinclair nodded. "You killed a lot of people, you have to be stopped."

"Likewise Commander." Ari said. "But know that the lives I took I did do with honour. Each one died a warriors death, and I drunk to their memory and celebrated their lives afterwards."

Sinclair nodded slowly. "This is it then."

"As you say, this is it."

"Good bye Ari'shan of the Dilgar."

"Goodbye David Sinclair of Earth. We are enemies, but have more in common than apart."

Ari saluted from his cockpit, and Sinclair returned the gesture. The words had given him a new insight into this man, but it did not change what he had to do.

In a burst of light Ari'shan wheeled around and accelerated quickly away. With a long breath, and the crest of the EAS Illustrious in his mind, David Sinclair throttled up and gave chase.

For Jha'dur what was unfolding was the culmination of so much planning and careful management that it was generating a feeling she had very rarely felt before. The crushing sadness of this past year had gone, melting away at least for a little while. Before her eyes she could see history changing, and in the boiling inferno could glimpse a future for her people.

She stood from her chair and walked closer to the main screen, the incredibly detailed projection showing the vast scope of the battle, the nebula, the moon, and the constant glow of destruction. The Warmaster closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, as if she could fill her lungs with the fumes of burning ships and engine exhaust. It was almost surreal, something she was detached from by a wall of steel and an expanse of vacuum. She tried to get a more real sense for it, some sort of connection with the event, but ultimately she still felt more like a witness than a participant.

"Warmaster, enemy ship on intercept."

She opened her eyes again, basking in the hurricane of violence.

"Standby to engage."

Coursing through the thick of the action a Hyperion cruiser glided into view, smashing past Jha'dur's escorting destroyers without even slowing down. Whether the ship actually knew the importance of its target or not was unknown, but clearly it was determined to bring down this new and dangerous looking enemy vessel.

"Bow laser cannons armed and ready." An'jash reported. "Shielding systems powered and responding."

"Hold our course and standby to fire."

The Vendetta turned rapidly and faced the challenge, keen to test its mettle against a worth adversary. The cruiser engaged with its plasma cannons, the simple weapons shaking with each volley, showering blue globules of the material towards the Dilgar ship.

"Captain, deal with it." An'jash ordered.

The Dilgar ship then did something entirely unexpected. From its central hull a series of small energy pulses raced up at high speed and struck the plasma, scattering it and nullifying the projectile. The Sekhmets were well known for using captured alien technology, almost everything about them had a foreign origin, but the Vendetta was special, the best of the initial batch. In addition to Hyach cannons, Abbai shields and Drakh armour she also mounted Earth Alliance interceptors, stripped and pieced together from a dozen fractured human ships including the honoured EAS Persephone, the first EA ship to be lost to the Dilgar.

It was no accident Jha'dur had chosen this ship, it was a superior vessel and carried parts of Earths own warships into battle against them. Blasphemous to some perhaps, but to Jha'dur it was merely a practicality.

With the interceptors active the bow laser cannons fired, among the most powerful weapons in space they smashed hard into the cruiser pushing it hard to one side, gashing the pale human hull.

"Forward interceptors are down on the enemy ship." An'jash reported quickly. "We can punch right through!"

"Hit it again." Jha'dur ordered. "Target reactor and distribution systems."

The two laser guns spoke again, this time focused on one spot and using their long dwell time to burn deep into the structure of the Hyperion cruiser, slicing through the main reactor feeds and annihilating the ship in a tremendous white detonation.

Jha'dur watched the calamitous end of the ship, its front and back falling away as if they were made from nothing but fire. Truly spectacular.

"Press the attack." She ordered. "We have driven our knife into the human fleet. Now we start twisting."

The fate of the galaxy was being decided here, but it was just a background to Ari'shan, a canvas against which something far more important was happening. He had no time to partake in the awe of the conflict, he could only focus on two things in his mind. One was not flying into one of the tangle of ships, the other was not putting himself in the path of the guns of David Sinclair.

He had been pleased to talk with the human, and glad to do so in his own language. Learning English had made it easier for him to immerse in human culture, to see how Earth beheld the warrior tradition and what emphasis it put on honour and courage. Ari'shan had not been disappointed, glad to find a place where his views would be understood.

That was probably why he was here now fighting this human, because this human knew him. Certainly they were not friends, and Sinclair would obviously have no clue about Ari's life or habits, but he could understand what drove him, he could connect on the same level. It meant that whoever won in this duel, the vanquished party would be given the final honour of a noble death, and would be remembered as one of the truest warriors of the age.

He felt no anxiety, he felt calm and peaceful, all worry and doubt lifted from his shoulders. Whatever happened it would be for the better, and while he would prefer to live and wholly believed he would win, if he should be killed it would be just death, not failure. In a battle like this one did not fail, one simply acknowledged the superiority of a better warrior.

But first the decision had to be made, the test had to be taken and the outcome was undecided. They were both champions, singled out among the billions to face each other and match their skills and perseverance. Like the fleets around them they were locked in a struggle of such intensity it had never been seen before. No one else in the galaxy except for Ari and Sinclair could have participated in this duel, and likewise no other fleets could fight such a battle as those led by Jha'dur and Hamato.

They were perfect opposites, so close to being the same that it was impossible to know who would be victorious. The whole war was boiling down to the contest between two minds, and on a smaller scale between two lone pilots. Sinclair flew the best dogfighter in the galaxy, and Ari flew a craft designed specifically to counter it. In an exact reproduction of that contest the Earth Fleet represented the best close range slugging force in the galaxy, and yet Jha'dur had crafted her own forces for the sole purpose of meeting and countering Earth Force.

What was happening across Balos was concentrated in Sinclair and Ari'shan. The fusing of technology, skill, courage, will power and intelligence all focused on the simple goal of utterly defeating the enemy. None of them were going to quit or give it a half hearted effort, it was all or nothing and so the battle continued, losses mounted, and amid it all two fighters duelled.

Ari'shan had the faster plane, but it was not as swift as his original Mark II Thorun. This new model had been optimised for agility over speed just like a Starfury, and with the rich fuel Sinclair was using the difference in acceleration was negligible. It did not matter to Ari much, he wasn't planning on running.

He side slid under a Dilgar Dreadnought, Sinclair very close behind shaking his wings to avoid obstructions on the underside of the enemy ship. They were both moving at very high velocity, much faster than was recommended for dogfighting and in such crowded space their reaction times were going to be infinitesimal.

More fighters raced past, fast paced swarms of human, Cascan or Dilgar craft heading into action or pulling back to rearm. None of them bothered with the two elite pilots, and even if they had wanted to they were moving too fast to be realistically caught. A few shots of interceptor fire sometimes reached up to try and catch Ari, but by this time he could out fly any computer and outwit any gunner. He rolled across the plane of battle, every single ship and fighter glowing orange or red so intense was the exchanging gunfire and burning remains of fallen ships, exhaled in relish and then truly began the fight.

He dove back towards the thickest fighting, veins stretching as the G-forces worked hard to punish him for taunting physics. Sinclair followed as planned, the cockpit shuddering and rattling as he pressed the Starfury to its limits. He barrel rolled as Sinclair fired, twitching his wings with such precision that the plasma fire scraped by within inches, close enough to bubble and boil the paint. The engines jabbed spikes of ions into the sky, the galaxy streaking past his clear canopy as he slew through the action at a breakneck pace.

He knew only that the grey blurs were human and the green blurs were his, but beyond that nothing mattered, just the pilot a few hundred yards away taking frequent shots at him. Sinclair was timing his attacks well, not wasting ammo but only engaging when he had a clean shot, and forcing Ari to evade very sharply and painfully.

Shattering volleys of bolter fire crossed his path, and it was with great timing that he avoided their deadly trajectories, flying between what would have been the narrow gap between guns on their turrets as the energy bolts blazed past. He checked sensors, pleased that his opponent had not being caught in so simple a death and was still hard on his tail.

The purple exhaust of his dart fighter changed length slightly as he pulled back the throttle and slid the fighter around, suddenly spinning and cutting his forward thrust. Sinclairs reaction was instinctive, at such speed it had to be and he fired his control thrusters in a quick and complex sequence which threw him on an odd course and let him keep Ari in his sights. The Dilgar pilot swept the nose of his craft around, chugging gunfire into space at insanely close range. Sinclair was evade in all three dimensions, and even though he was dodging he still put himself in a position to return fire, matching Ari's red and orange fire with his own blue hued cannons.

The two ships danced around each other, still throwing themselves through space at insane velocities thanks to momentum. Sinclair snapped upwards, rising like a lift and dropping the nose to shoot at Ari from above, but the Dilgar was also moving, ducking forwards and away from the human guns. Sinclair maintained the roll, rotating in space and firing on full automatic but missing is target, if only by a hair's breadth.

Both fighters heard a sharp proximity cry from their sensors, their path crossing that of an Earth Force Battlecruiser. The warship was cruising slowly past and discharging every gun into the side of a Dilgar dreadnought, accepting damage in return and not pausing in its desire to rip through the enemy ship. Both pilots had to take evasive action, breaking away from each other and opening their throttles wide, pushing them away from the massive sides of the ship.

It was an incredible effort, the strain of turning away at such high speed forced the blood to pool in their boots. Gritting their teeth they held the controls, Sinclair passing over and Ari under the distracted warship, neither noticing or caring about their near plight as it opened up the flank of the Mishakur beside it with a torrent of multicoloured burning particles and wreckage.

Sinclair cut his engines on the other side and turned hard, expecting to see Ari there, instead he just saw the two warships fading into the inky distance with the red sky behind them. Rapidly he altered course, spinning and dodging even though he had no reason to believe he was about to be attacked, it was instinct, and it saved him.

Bolt fire flashed past in a brilliant kaleidascope, and Sinclair was glad for the polarizing cover on his helmet which saved him from temporary blindness. The roles changed, and now it was Ari giving chase with Sinclair leading the engagement through the deadly maze.

"Alright, alright you want to catch me?" Sinclair snarled. "Come and try!"

He dropped the fighter hard, a turn so sharp he could feel his eardrums pop with the sudden intense pressure. It took even Ari by surprise and bough Sinclair a full half second before the Dilgar followed. He traced a path through the firefight, weaving as close as he dared to pieces of debris, using the wash from his thrusters to throw them into Ari's path. The Dilgar pilot just smiled in joy and dodged them, or blasted them from his path with cannon fire.

The engines were at their limits, the casings smoking as the internal systems overheated, but the fighter held together and continued to perform, a simple but eminently effective construct. Sinclair cursed every time he blinked, flying like a frantic madman through the battle. He skimmed a Dilgar cruiser, turning hard over its hull and slipping underneath one of its gun barrels. Ari was not shaken, staying right with him through the winding turns.

Sinclair cut back into open space, hurtling at a Nova Dreadnought that was lining its guns to fire on the Dilgar ship they had just crossed over. He held his course, lining up on the centre of the ships as suddenly everything went red as the Dreadnought fired. Sinclair did not flinch, flying between the broadside volley of the titanic warship as it took apart its enemies. He held his breath, then flicked the controls and roared up away from the Dreadnought passing right through the lines of laser fire. He slipped by with inches to spare, narrowly avoiding a spike of light several times as thick as his fighter was wide.

It was a daring move, and one Ari'shan followed to perfection, still latched to the back of the Earth Force Fury. He tried a few shots, the bolts passing between the fighters four wings as Sinclair used his computers to watch where Ari was and what he was doing.

A couple of Cascan fighters tried to join the fight, a temporary distraction that was easily left behind by the racing craft, but it did allow Sinclair to open the distance a little more. He rolled under a Hyperion passing between its hull struts at ridiculous speed, Ari naturally following the path perfectly, savouring the fact that barely a handful of pilots anywhere could have done the exact same thing, proving once again what a select group he and Sinclair belonged to.

The four engined Fury slid by a Burning Nova hulk, dodging bent girders and beams laced with escaping geysers of flame. He turned hard and bolted through the hull, flying through a hole blasted through the ship by a nuclear missile and Ari dilligently followed, cruising through the electrical discharges and wreckage. He slowly began making up ground, never wavering in this cat and mouse chase against the fiery backdrop.

Sinclair sidestepped, flaming his thrusters and suddenly twisting away sideways, aiming to put a couple of rounds into Ari as he zipped past. It took immense control to avoid the trap, the Thorun not having the same agility as the Fury and unable to completely match it in such a tricky manoeuvre. Ari gunned the engines, worked the throttles frantically and spun himself, pointing his nose at Sinclair in the same moment as Sinclair brought his own cannons to bear.

For that one moment both of them were in each others guns, nose to nose and rotating through space. It was an instant of time so tiny as to be barely captured in the blink of an eye, they could see each other straining at the controls, desperate to get into the optimum position for a kill as space flew by at a lightning pace. Both of them pushed the triggers at the same time, so close that it was just impossible to miss as the plasma rounds and particle bolts formed in the pre-fire chambers and left the gun muzzles in balls of light.

And yet, somehow they did just that, through supernatural skill they were able in that instant to tilt their respective planes enough that the weapons fire originating mere feet away missed them, scraping past as the fighters crossed nose to nose with each other.

But Sinclair was not letting go, and he stayed on target, changing direction and firing again at the Thorun. Likewise Ari could not let this opportunity slide away, they were both so close, the range so tiny that they just could not let it slip away. Ari spun too, keeping his nose pointing at the Fury while Sinclair kept his on Ari.

The two planes spun around each other, momentum throwing them away from the battle as they waltzed in circles twisting, rolling, dodging and shooting. It was as though they were linked by an invisible tether, a rope linked to both planes that neither could snap or escape.

Sinclair was at a point where his energy had crossed a threshold. He felt no tiredness or stress, the G-forces didn't mean anything anymore, his heart was fluttering like a piece of paper in a tornado but it did not matter. He didn't blink and didn't even notice, he was breathing hard but again did not register. He didn't look at his instruments, he didn't have to, the Thorun was right there as big and as clear as day. He was firing and Ari was firing, he was dodging and Ari was dodging, locked together like brawling dogs or bulls.

Ari'shan had started calmly but by now was just as intense as Sinclair, just as devoted to staying alive and winning as his opponent. Every thought and fibre was bent on it, every ounce of courage and every inch of his soul was infusing the Dart Fighter and making it fly by pure force of will and steel determination. He inched in so close he scraped the glass of Sinclairs cockpit with his nose cone, so close his wing mounted guns fired clean past on either side of the Furies cockpit while Sinclairs guns left black streaks on the belly of the Thorun as they passed within an inch of hitting.

The duelling tigers threw every twist, trick and bluff they could think of at each other, making things up on the spot and improvising, stealing plans from antiquity and barely remembered stories of battles in history. Sinclair as rolling in the same way his ancestors had in the Battle of Britain while Ari was shaking his plane back and forth in the same way a swordsman changes posture in a fencing match. Neither of them gave away a vulnerability, and neither found the weakness to open a kill despite looking virtually into each others faces.

It couldn't go on, and Ari broke the deadlock, accelerating and flipping over Sinclair. The human was quick to pursue, firing a few chasing volleys as he reorientated and engaged afresh.

The two fighters had almost reached Balos, a few lingering Thoruns roamed the sky but nothing that would impede them, the main forces were still tangling close to the moon. To all intents and purposes they were alone.

Ari was looping and accelerating, long slow curves which Sinclair matched, a spiralling double helix falling towards the planet still shooting at each other. They jockeyed for position, gave in to inertia and spun their fighters like plates, sometimes miles away, sometimes just feet. It flashed by so fast, each second a lifetime and each minute gone in a flash. Time was pointless and its passing was measured in hearts that were still beating and lungs that still rose and fell.

It would have stayed that way too if not for the massive buffeting that suddenly rocked both planes hard and skimmed a red vale post the two cockpits. They had reached Balos, skipping on its atmosphere and feeling the friction slow them down. Both pilots tried to capitalise on the bump, but likewise both were too fast to let their opponent exploit a moment of weakness.

Ari'shan however found he had the advantage here, unlike the Starfury his Thorun was atmosphere capable giving him an edge if he could draw Sinclair into the upper atmosphere. At this altitude the Starfury would still fly, but it would be sluggish and that degrading of performance, even if only fractionally, would give Ari the opportunity he needed.

He rolled under Sinclair, but this time instead of trying to engage from a new angle he dropped his nose to the planet and dived, passing deeper into the air and creating a slight red glow that grew brighter as he flew into the increasingly thicker air.

Sinclair saw Ari's plan the same second the young Dilgar did and knew what it meant. Logic said he should have pulled back, flown up into higher orbit and waited for the Thorun to come out and meet him. But if he broke off now he knew Ari would get away, he knew that he could leave and attack other human pilots like he had done to April and many others. He couldn't let him go, come hell or high water he just couldn't. Ari had taken a gamble, but Sinclair wasn't done yet. The Starfury dipped, dropping in on the Dilgar pilots tail and followed, only he followed at full thrust.

Ari was expecting Sinclair to come in at a steady speed, act cautiously and fight from a great height, knowing that if the Fury didn't pull up at the right altitude it would just fall out of the air. Despite its large engines the Starfury was an aerodynamic brick and far too heavy for atmospheric operations, and yet Sinclair did not slow down, he closed the gap and forced Ari to open his own throttle.

The two fighters plummeted groundward, wreathed in burning air ignited by friction. The superior materials of the craft kept the pilots from roasting alive, but neither plane was truly designed for this and both were rattling violently. Sinclairs view from the cockpit was one of yellow light, but he had a space of clear vision at the front of his canopy and through that he never lost sight of the triple engined Dilgar craft.

Ari gasped as plasma fire streamed past, roaring in the atmosphere and punching his fighter with waves of baked air as they passed. He couldn't believe the human was firing on him and actually getting closer. At this speed in the atmosphere he could perform any combat manoeuvres, and Sinclair knew it. Ari had to laugh a little, his plan had completely backfired and now he was trapped by the human herding him towards the rocky ground. Sinclair was good, but unless he hit Ari soon he would also be too low to break off and escape.

The Dart fighters instruments fried out, his computer dying as the stress overcame it, but Ari didn't care, he rarely used it anyway. Sinclair had him in a vice, but by all the gods he wasn't done yet. He wrestled the controls, blasted the thrusters and slid the fighter to the side. It was an insane move, one that should have torn the wings straight off his plane, but the Dilgar fates must have been with him today and the Thorun held together, even if the strain blew blood vessels across his body.

He hit the retro thrusters, a tiny nudge but enough to slow him down so that Sinclair rushed past in a blazing ball of friction ignited gases. It was the most awesome sight he had ever seen, the Starfury alight like the mythical avengers it was named for. With one last effort he slid into position behind Sinclair, and now it was he who had the better position.

The deadly game now had a time limit, that limit being the space between their altitude and the ground which was already partially visible through the clouds, stretching desert curving around the horizon.

Sinclair was in massive trouble, Ari didn't even have to shoot him down, all he had to do was stay there and prevent him from changing course. Gravity would do the rest, and in a matter of seconds he would be too low to turn and climb back into orbit.

Sinclair made a choice, it was not the choice he wanted to make, but as the first few bolt shots rolled past his windows and he knew he was not going to be able to dodge them in this position, he was left with no options.

He touched his pocket and removed the one thing that kept him going, the old and well worn photo of Gemma, Jeffrey and Malcolm. His family, his life, his very point of existence. Ari fought for reasons best known to him, for honour and for chivalry, for glory and because it was his sworn duty and purpose. Sinclair fought for the faces on that piece of coloured card, those smiling warm faces that never, ever left his heart. That was why he was here, and that was why he did what he now did, so those three faces would never have to see a Dilgar.

He pressed the picture under the edge of the computer screen, the static filled display useless in the violent conditions. He gave them a faint smile and a nod of true affection, in his mind telling them everything they needed to know. Then he gripped the controls hard, and blasted his retro thrusters.

He fired them in sequence, spinning the fighter around so that it was now falling backwards, its guns aimed at Ari'shan. The move was instantly destructive, the magnetic steering vanes mounted on the Furies engines were torn immediately off like sails in a gale, vanishing at once into the red and black clouds the falling fighters were immersed in. There was no way, none at all that he could now escape, his fighter was falling apart and hurtling below the point of no return. Sinclair knew this, and his only response was to open fire.

Ari dodged, pulling away in intense pain as the G-forces assaulted him. He was just in utter disbelief at the tenacity of Sinclair, a mix of plasma shots and pieces of Starfury rushing by his canopy. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do to avoid those shots, the greatest test he ever faced but he did, and he slowly, arduously began to pull up and leave the Fury to impact the ground.

Sinclair saw it, watching the Dilgar fighter gradually change course as sheets of metal fell from his wings like black snow. He'd be damned if it was over yet.

"Not like this!" Sinclair bellowed in unrestrained fury. "If I'm going out you're coming with me you Dilgar bastard!"

He pushed the controls hard forward.

"Afterburners! Mark!"

The engines on his fighter burst into a last push of blue, while he was still technically falling the change in velocity was such that he may as well have shot up at light speed. One of his engines just exploded, throwing the fighter into a spin, but he was going so fast fractions of a second were the only accurate way to measure time, and the spin did not take affect soon enough. He slammed on the retro thrusters on one side of his plane, not even bothering to shut down afterburners. In space it would have been very unhealthy, in his current predicament with his fighter stripping itself of armour, shorting out circuits and spraying fuel from busted lines it was suicidal. But it didn't matter, because it did what he wanted it to do.

The fighter turned, rotated so that as he passed by the hard turning Thorun he could see it several yards in front of him, its front black and its rear trailing fire like a falling meteor, which was very similar to the truth. The Starfury was falling out of control, and even a pilot of Sinclair's calibre had no way of bringing it back for the disaster about to overtake it. But what he could do was finish his job.

He had less than a second, but it was enough for what he had to do. His canopy was pointed at the Thorun, the glass blackening but not so much that he couldn't see, the computer gone but he didn't need it at this range. He saw the Thorun, saw the picture of his family in front of it, and even fancied he saw the Dilgar pilot looking his way with his features displaying a perfect look of surprise. It all blinked away in one flash of blue as Sinclair pulled the trigger.

The plasma bolts hit Ari's Thorun dead centre, Sinclair had a chance to see that, one instant where he could clearly make out the back of the enemy plane separate from the front and he knew right then that it was over. The clouds over took him and the Starfury spun completely out of control, its engines shearing away and taking most of the wings with it. His fighter, his trusted craft and saviour of countless pilots was reduced to a wingless burned block of metal falling to the ground.

Inside Sinclair was pinned by gravity, laughing. He had won, by the cost of it had been his own life and he surrendered to that. He laughed for all that it was, all he had given, and for the sheer release of ending the battle.

Then he saw his family, still smiling at him from the photo and in that moment he touched reality. He had won, but if he didn't make it home it was no victory. He marshalled his strength and fought gravity, pushing with all his might to lift his arms as the desert rushed into view. He roared, forcing his hands to stretch until he felt the eject mechanism, and then with his last strength he pulled the handle.

With a blast the cockpit disengaged, and as it flew clear it deployed a drogue chute that blossomed into three full sized parachutes, rapidly arresting his fall.

Sinclair collapsed in his seat restraints breathing heavily, all was quiet without the thunder of guns of engines, just the peace of falling through the air. He could see the trail of smoke marking his own fighters path into the ground, and beyond a second pall that showed the Dilgar fighters path, right into the sands of Balos.

He had done it, and Sinclair had never smiled wider as he fell into unconsciousness.


	88. Chapter 88

86

Transfer Point Atlantis

Comac system

Earth Alliance Jurisdiction

General Hernandez was listening to the distant transmissions with great intensity, focusing on every fragmented word or filtered detail of information. His crew, and the crews of each of the ships under his command, were likewise fixed to the nearest console clustered around and absorbing the reports.

Like all ships the survivors of the first battle for Balos were linked into the battle net and were able to listen in on reports and orders issued to the main Earth fleets currently engaging the Dilgar Grand fleet in an attempt to break through and relieve the forces stranded by the Dilgar on the planet itself. So far things were not going to plan, the reports reflecting the growing uncertainty and difficulty in achieving victory felt by the ships fighting merely one jump away.

The battle had started well, but a sudden attack by suicide ships had been chillingly relayed to the Seventh Fleet and Hernandez could feel the desperation of those crews who realised what these new ships were and how hard they were to stop. By now the Dilgar were in amongst the EA ships and Hamato had dissolved his battle lines, reforming taskforces of mixed ships to take the Dilgar on at a smaller scale. There no sweeping advances or grand tactics, it was just close range survival.

With every passing second Hernandez found himself more and more eager to get underway, jump to Balos and do something. He wasn't alone in his wish, the hundred ships in his fleet were also keen to get moving and do something, prepared to go out there and take some off the pressure off their brothers and sisters.

But they could not, the ships at Comac were the last functional ships of the Seventh fleet, the other hundred and fifty or so ships that had survived the Dilgar Counter attack had been shot up so badly they were immediately put in dock at Proxima after a few local patches to see them safely home. The Comac garrison force had been left there because they were fit enough to defend themselves, but not in shape for a real stand up fight, not without a lot of running repairs. The Belt Alliance was bringing up spare parts for them, but until then they were relegated to guarding supply lines and listening to the course of the distant battle.

"Sounds like they're in trouble." Commander Laura Horowitz grimaced painfully, empathising with the crews coming under attack. She recalled the almost fatal battle they had survived, and didn't savour the memory.

"But holding firm." Hernandez added. "That first attack shook them, but now they're doing what they do best. Taking it to the Dilgar at point blank."

There was a crackle of static as an EA Cruiser was lost to a concentrated enemy strike. The crew were silent for a second as the sound faded.

"Even if we set off now." Hernandez read their minds. "It would be two or three days until we reached Balos, far too late to help."

"I know sir, it's just… well…" Horowitz faded.

"Helpless?" The General offered.

"Yes sir."

"I know Commander, this is a fleet ship and we should be out there. But we aren't. We'll be armed and ready for the next fight, but this time we're just spectators."

Horowitz drew her gaze away to check out a small sensor reading.

"We have a jump gate activation sir."

"About time, we were expecting the Gaim four hours ago." Hernandez huffed. "We still have their Queen in our belly."

Horowitz shuddered a little, the thin Israeli not happy about the bloated house sized insect in the secure cargo bay. It reminded her too much of a monster from an old, old movie.

"I hate bugs." She announced.

"Not as much as the Dilgar do by now." Hernandez smiled. "For a while they were the scariest things on the planet."

"Until the Dilgar blitzed them with airstrikes and strategic weapons." Horowitz recalled. "Even as allies they scared me, they eat their own dead you know sir."

"I know." The General nodded.

"I bet they'd eat our dead too." She reasoned. "Hell, I hope they don't run out of food down there and make a snack of the engineering team."

"I don't think that's an issue." Hernandez grinned in wry amusement, shifting his mind from the hard fight for a short time. It was a temporary relief to have a different situation to deal with, even one as mundane as moving an important passenger. Albeit a house sized one.

The jump gate flashed and crackled in sequence, the enigmatic Quantium 40 mineral generating the exotic energies required to open up the film of reality over the maelstrom that dwelt behind every glimpse of the normal galaxy, brewing behind the curtains of space like a bubbling red cauldron. There was nothing gentle about the process, a barely contained explosion of energy lethal to anything fool enough to get in the way.

The sensors picked up the single ship move out slowly and serenely as if it were a mere pleasure cruise.

"Ship detected, cruiser class." Horowitz stated.

"What class is it?" Hernandez wondered aloud. "The Gaim have no ships of their own, I expected they'd borrow a Pak'Ma'Ra ship for this mission."

"Doesn't look like it, bit smaller sir." Horowitz frowned. "getting a profile… Ah hell!"

"Commander?"

"Dilgar Cruiser!"

Hernandez sighed, but did not hesitate. His ships were not in the best of condition but they could still beat back a Dilgar raid.

"Action stations, condition one!" He ordered. "Warn Atlantis station and prepare to attack."

Klaxons echoed in the Dreadnought, the wounded vessel building up power and activating her remaining guns. Despite her damage the Tirpitz was still a formidable warship and could still outgun any Dilgar ship that happened to show up.

"She's making for the station." Horowitz warned. "Atlantis control is activating defences."

"Keep scanning, there's bound to be more than one of them out there." Hernandez ordered confidently.

Fighters cleared the hangars of the Seventh fleet and took up defensive positions. They had barely a tenth of their fighters still embarked, the rest either shot down, damaged beyond use or deployed with the main Expeditionary Force to supplement the Balosian strike. They remaining ones prepared to do what they could, but if it was anything larger than a standard ten or twenty ship raid things were going to get nasty.

"Additional Jump points!" The Commander warned. "Multiple locations all around us!"

"I knew it!" Hernandez snapped. "That first ship was a scout! Standby to fire at will, target jump points and give Kitty a warm welcome!"

The Seventh fleet was battered and bruised, but no one could fault their training. Even behind the lines in a safe zone they were alert and fully closed for action the instant the jump points flamed open. Laser and plasma fire sought out enemy ships, shooting into the open jump points and slamming into the Dilgar warships as they made the transition. Several were destroyed before they even left the vortex, ripped apart by one of the Dreadnoughts or pummelled by multiple cruisers or corvettes. The fragments of wrecked ships flittered out into open space smoking and glowing, but there were more vessels behind.

"Contacts are filling up!" Horowitz warned. "Hundred plus, they are moving at speed!"

Hernandez swore silently. "Main batteries track and fire at will! Watch the flanks and blind spots!"

The Tirpitz rolled its battered frame to fire on a group of passing ships, labouring to bring its weapons to bear while a pair of cruisers held close by as escorts. Red and blue gunfire lit up the scarred hulls as the trio of ships engaged, joining their comrades in the unlooked for battle.

"Silhoette on those new ships General!" Horowitz clambered over the noise. "Suicide vessels!"

"I went them down first!" Hernandez barked, well aware of the affect on morale seeing those deadly little vessels would have across the fleet. "Hit them with everything we've got!"

The warships began to concentrate fire, converging on the fast moving and bulkily armoured Dilgar frigates. They were in the minority amongst the Dilgar forces deployed here, but their newly won reputation singled them out for special attention.

The fighters looped into action, going for the engines on the Dilgar frigates and seeking to at least disable them if not destroy them. Unable to steer they were little threat to the fleet. Other Dilgar warships joined in the fight, sweeping in close to the human warships and hitting them with overpowered weapons. At least one Dilgar destroyer exploded with a catastrophic power failure, its weapons cascading the death trap of a reactor, but on the whole if Earth wanted to see Dilgar ships burn the fleet was going to have to make it happen themselves.

Horowitz banged her knee on the underside of her console as the Dreadnought buckled under a series of bolter strikes. She bit back a curse and read off the scrolling reports.

"Hit amidships near the reactors!" She called.

"We we're heavily damaged back there." Hernandez recalled.

"Yes sir, looks like they're going for sections of the hull already opened up in the last battle."

"Of course they are." Hernandez grunted. "Smart kitty, but not smart enough. Tell the fleet and gun crews, if they are aiming for existing damage it makes their approach vectors predictable. I wanted them running into a wall of gunfire!"

The warships responded, but even with the heaviest of fire they couldn't stop everything, and Hernandez was crushed to see one of his long surviving Dreadnoughts blown in two by a suicide ship.

"More ships, starboard bow!"

"Deal with it Commander!" The General ordered.

With a silent whir the heavy turrets aligned and fired, the laser beams scoring hits on the incoming enemy warships with showers of sparks and burning air. The Dilgar kept coming, diligently pressing the attack into the teeth of the weakened Nova. The Tirpitz wasn't in good condition, but she still had the teeth to send the attacking enemy ships straight to hell.

"Adjust course, keep us close to the fleet." Hernandez ordered briskly. "We need to cover each other, concentrate fire on those little bastards!"

The space around and between the fleet was a patchwork of energy shots and explosions, some generated by human weapons and some not. To their advantage the human ships had a superior position and were helping each other out, the mix of interceptors and high calibre guns keeping the Dilgar at a distance. However the fast moving Dilgar were hard to hit while moving at speed, even though one or two shots was usually enough to bring down the poorly built enemy vessels.

The battle seemed to be slowly edging Earth's way, with the Seventh fleet contracting in and presenting a formidable barrage that the dispersed Dilgar light ships just couldn't beat their way past.

"I haven't seen any cruiser class ships or above!" Horowitz reported. "Just Destroyers!"

"They must have stayed in hyperspace after opening the jump points."

"Yes sir!"

"But they can only open a jump point one way." Hernandez examined quickly. "How were they supposed to jump out again?"

"Maybe they were going to use the gate sir?" Horowitz asked. "Or maybe they just didn't plan to leave."

"It's not just the frigates!" Hernandez growled. "They're all on a suicide mission!"

"Then why haven't they all rammed us sir?" The Commander asked.

"Because we're not the target." He grunted in anger, seeing that the Dilgar had once again tricked him. "They forced us into a defensive posture, pushed us back here and forced us to slow down and fight them!"

"If they don't want us, who do they want…?" She tailed off. "The station."

"Fleet command to all ships, accelerate at once, standby to redirect fire!"

But the Dilgar were ahead of them by a single step, and even as Hernandez spoke the enemy ships peeled off and ran for the station, the defensive fleet pinned, distracted and forced out of range. Finishing off the Seventh fleet would have been a major victory for the Dilgar, but not so great as destroying the main supply base for the entire Liberation Navy. Atlantis station was crammed with the munitions and fuel needed to get the fleet to Omelos, if it fell the advance of the allied fleets would simply grind to a halt.

Hernandez had been blinded by the obvious, accepting that his warships were the clear target because it was just so easy to believe.

Atlantis station was ready to meet the attack, fixed in space as it was the Dionysus class station mounted a formidable battery of interceptors, plasma cannons and nuclear missile racks. Those weapons now opened up as the Dilgar came into effective range, emitting sparks and light like a Catherine wheel and shattering the hulls of the foremost Dilgar vessels.

The station had the great advantage of a first rate reactor but no engines to power allowing it to funnel a huge amount of energy into its combat systems. While the plasma cannons were identical to those mounted on a Hyperion the extra size of the station allowed much larger energy reserves and cooling systems to be fitted around the turrets. While the calibre of the plasma round was the same, the rate of fire was much higher and there was no need to break between salvos to let the gun barrels cool down, giving the station a disproportionately large increase in firepower.

The slowly spinning structure delivered a constant stream of gunfire from its turrets, long meandering rivers of plasma fire that obliterated Dilgar vessels through sheer volume. Anti ship missiles burst free from their racks and added their power, spider webs of smoke trails left behind them as they detonated among the Dilgar forces. One nuke exploded above a Dilgar destroyer, flattening it like a pancake and emptying its internal components into the void.

The attack forces were not deterred, firing on the station as they flew into battle. The various destroyers and escorts formed a screen of ships in front of the Delegor suicide ships, taking hits and sacrificing themselves so the more lethal vessels could do their job. Death in battle was nothing new to the Dilgar and that mentality was very common among them, but it had never reached quite such a crescendo as Jha'dur had inspired in this campaign.

Starfuries did their best, the station never faltered and several wounded but determined Earth Force ships also lent their support. The Dilgar forces were torn to ruin but predictably they were not destroyed soon enough, and the sureness of their purpose forced them through the firestorm and into their objective.

Three suicide ships made it to the target, ramming into the station across the main ring and core. The station was powerful and well built, but it was not an Orion base and just did not have the massive structural strength of the purpose built defense stations. The prefabricated nature of Atlantis station now doomed it, the seams that held the prebuilt sections together split and leaked fire, shaken apart by the impacts. In slow motion the ring structure dissolved, parts of the habitation ring launched away as the station still spun, metal shearing and tearing as it fell apart. A moment later one of the suicide ships exploded, its bow packed with nuclear devices, and in that eruption of light Atlantis station was no more.

Jha'dur had planned her battle well, not simply content to meet and engage the main body of the allied fleet she had resolved to destroy it utterly, to remove it as a threat to herself and to Omelos for the foreseeable future. Destroying the ships was certainly the best way to do that, but the destruction of their supply base also served her ends. With Atlantis station gone, with its cargo bays shattered and vital supplies immolated it all but removed any chance of supporting an offensive further into Dilgar space whatever the outcome of the battle of Balos.

It had cost her a hundred ships, and a hundred good crews, but the results were worth it. Earth Force hunted down the scattered Dilgar survivors and blasted them out of the sky, but the damage was done.

"We, we got them all sir." Horowitz said.

"But not soon enough." Hernandez grimaced. This was his third battle in command of a fleet, and his second major defeat. He felt like humanities failures in battle were all down to him. When this was all over he was going to request a desk job, he just couldn't do this anymore.

"Better signal fleet command." He said. "Tell them we've lost Atlantis station."

With the base gone it meant the fleet would have to withdraw all the way back to Brakir if Jha'dur forced them away, and from the comms traffic they were picking up that was definitely a possibility. Without a forward base the war would be harder to fight, but just as damaging was the amount of material lost. Even with its huge industrial base there was a limit to the amount of fuel and war supplies the Earth Alliance could give to its fleets and to its allies over a given time. Earth had been feeding not just its own forces but most of the League too, and a huge slice of those supplies was held at Atlantis.

The attack would create a shortfall, a gap in supplies that would have to be filled by production on Earth and then shipped to Brakir, a long and costly process. Jha'dur's attack here, while brief, might well have altered the course of the war more decisively than the direct engagement burning above Balos.

"Dispatch rescue teams." The General added. "Try to find some survivors."

"Yes sir."

"I'll be in my quarters trying to contact General Denisov." Hernandez undid his restraints and floated free. "I'll inform him of this personally and take responsibility. We should have seen this coming."

He shook his head, catching a glimpse of the few surviving segments of the station drifting apart over the planet.

"This is my fault." He sighed. "Carry on Commander."

Balos

The Under Dwellings

"Signals are pretty scratchy." Francis frowned as he held the earphones up to his head, focusing on the faint voices filtering through his communication kit. "I'm picking up a lot of confused chatter."

Gathered around him Jenny, Paul and Garibaldi leaned in expectantly.

"What are they saying?" The EIA Field Agent asked in a tense voice.

"It's… it's hard to make out."

"I can tell you're lying Francis." Jenny chided. "What is happening?"

He sighed and broke the bad news.

"The Dilgar have broken up Hamato's lines, they're in and among the fleet engaging ship to ship. Only with the odds up there it's more like five to one in their favour."

"Crap." Garibaldi growled. "How are we doing?"

"Honestly, not good." Francis reported. "We've taken heavy losses, and the Dilgar are still coming."

There was a round of sighs.

"We're not going to get off this rock are we?" Garibaldi asked the obvious question.

"Too early to tell yet." Jenny answered. "We're still fighting, and our ships were built to take on big odds and win."

"We've beaten big odds before." Paul reminded.

"But that was before the Dilgar knew who they were dealing with." Garibaldi pointed out. "Now they've got our number, now they know how we fight they're ready for us. Look what's happening right now."

"Doesn't mean they're going to win."

"Looks a hell of a lot like they are though doesn't it?" The Sergeant prompted. "You don't need to keep it from me guys, I can see trouble when it comes knocking."

"It really is too early to tell." Jenny said firmly. "But you know the drill."

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst."

"Whatever happens up there we've still got a war to fight down here." She stated. "Even if help comes we've got Dilgar everywhere and we're all going to be busy mopping up resistance."

"I heard they were still flushing Dilgar out of Markab space seven months after the planet was taken." Paul commented. "When those guys go to ground they don't fool about."

"Even if we beat the Dilgar, its going to be a long time before we have real peace." Jenny said sombrely. "But it will happen, and we have to make sure we stay alive to see it."

"Works out nicely." Garibaldi stepped back from the group. "Staying alive is my Masterplan. First step is eating, anyone else hungry?"

"Hungry enough for those packs of dried bark you army guys call food." Paul confirmed enthusiastically.

"Then you've got a treat." Garibaldi grinned. "I perfected a way to make them edible."

"What? Really?"

"My talents as a chef are wasted on this." Garibaldi shrugged. "But a little seasoning, bit of boiling water, just let the wizard go to work."

Paul and Jenny joined him. "Coming Francis?" She asked.

"In a minute." He said. "I just want to try and hear if there is anymore news."

"We'll bring you back some dried bark." Paul told him.

"Thanks." The young agent said, completely engrossed in his duty.

They left him in a corner and went to rejoin the rest of the group, the two platoons of Earth Force soldiers and a small group of Balosians who had gathered together in this particular refuge. One Platoon was Garibaldi's unit, the other was Lieutenant Zarina's Russian Guards who had accompanied Francis and Jenny from the surface.

Ahead of them Dom, Bugs and Tucker were gathered around Paul Calendars box of guns admiring the small collection of old fashioned weapons.

"You guys approve?" The Captain joined them.

"This is some quality gear." Corporal Tucker nodded. "Real?"

"Reproductions, only this one is an original." Paul unholstered a massive hand gun from his waist, a foot long revolver. "Old Smith and Wesson from the twentieth century."

The assembled company gave a few nods of appreciation.

"Now that's a gun." Bugs stated. "You're not, you know, compensating…"

"No." Jenny cut in. "Trust me on that one, no compensation needed."

There were a few smirks and laughs from the group, before Paul put the weapon away.

"Lots of ammo too." Garibaldi peered over. "bet this wasn't cheap."

"It wasn't, but I can afford it." Paul smiled slightly. "The EIA has been good to me." He glanced at Jenny. "Brought me a lot of good things."

She smiled widely at the compliment, causing some of the other guys to roll their eyes and shake their heads.

"Sergeant." Lieutenant Fox announced herself, the Platoon officer stepping along to the group. "Captain Sakai."

"Hello Lieutenant." She nodded. "We were trying to get a picture of the situation in orbit, it's all still in the balance."

She exhaled grimly. "Not the best news, but we have to keep faith in our comrades up there."

"Trusting the Navy then." Garibaldi raised an eyebrow. "Lets hope they earn their pay like real soldiers do Ma'am."

"That's why I'm here." Fox continued. "We're going on a hunt."

Garibaldi stood a bit more alert. "Dilgar Ma'am?"

"The Balosians lost a checkpoint this morning, not too far from here." She explained. "Looks like the Dilgar hit them and penetrated the caves."

"Some sort of a raid?" They were joined by the dark haired form of Lieutenant Zarina.

"We think so, but quite a large one."

Tisket emerged from the shadows, thoroughly surprising Garibaldi for the fiftieth time since he'd met the Balosian scout.

"I estimate sixty or more Dilgar." He rasped. "At least some of them are hunters themselves."

"What do you mean hunters?" Zarina asked.

"Dilgar special forces." Jenny took the question. "There are two types, basic elite infantry…"

"…And Spectres." Garibaldi stated. "I hate Spectres."

"I bet the feeling is mutual after what you did to some of them." Jenny grinned.

"What did you do Sergeant?" Zarina asked.

Garibaldi took the Crowbar Colonel McReady of the Black Watch had given him out of his webbing. "I introduced their heads to this."

Tisket hissed a laugh. "Very good Earther! Very good!"

"If they are Spectres, how do we find them?" Fox asked.

"We've got a dog down here Ma'am." Garibaldi said. "Delilah, the Captain's mascot. She spotted one of those invisible scum bags before."

"We better go pick her up before we get going." Fox agreed. "Pick up the Platoon Sergeant, we'll be moving out."

"Yes Ma'am." Garibaldi set off to gather his troops and their gear.

"Lieutenant Zarina, General Biek has established a command post about four miles from here, he's waiting for you."

"Very well." The Russian nodded.

"Make sure you take Agent O'Leary with you, the General will need to have him around to link up with the fleet."

She accepted the order and went to alert her own Sergeant and Corporals.

"Alright Platoon, lets get to it." Fox said.

"Mind if I join you?" Jenny piped in. "I have a little experience in this sort of thing."

"Very glad to have you." Fox nodded. "We walk in three minutes."

Fox headed back to join the preparations while Jenny headed back to the chest to pick up her rifle.

"So who are these Spectres?" Paul fell into step beside her.

"Best killers the Dilgar have." She explained. "Very well trained, as good as our people. They have stealth suits that render them invisible, really useful little trick. Hides them from all our scans too."

"But not dogs I'm guessing?"

"Dogs can spot them, we don't know if it's by scent of some other instinct, but they're reliable, much more than the experimental gadgets the EIA tech boys are working on."

"Alright then, so we pick up this dog, and then go through the tunnels tracking these guys?"

"We?" Jenny prompted. "You mean the platoon will be going and I'll be joining them."

"Yeah, that's what I mean." Paul nodded. "And I'm going with you."

Jenny halted and picked up her rifle. "Paul, no."

He grabbed his own rifle, the old Garand. "I can handle myself in a fight."

"Not like this, these Spectres are real bad news."

"You're not going after them alone." He said clearly, wrapping an ammunition bandolier around his chest.

"No I'm not, I've got a full platoon of highly trained Airborne soldiers coming with me."

"And me."

"Paul, listen." She held his arm. "You can't come along, you aren't ready for this."

"My place is where I am now." He said. "Two feet away from you at all times."

"These Spectres will be capable of killing you before you can blink, I had a hard time facing them."

"All the more reason I should be there."

"I don't want you in harms way Paul, I can't think about what would happen if you got hurt."

"And I can't let you go out looking for trouble without me." He countered. "We're a team."

She looked straight into his face and broke out into a smile. "You can be a stubborn old fool, you know that?"

"I know."

"I love you, but if you follow me I'll break your legs and order Francis to drag you home."

He laughed out despite himself. "And you have such a way with words."

"Head back to the command post. Seriously Paul, I have to do this but I can't with you nearby."

"Okay." He gave in. "No risks."

"No risks." She promised and leaned in for a long kiss.

"We've got plans Wife to be."

"We have future Mister Sakai." She winked.

"Just because this is the twenty third century does not mean I'll be the one changing my name." He said firmly.

"Happens all the time."

"I'm old fashioned." He defended.

"I'll arm wrestle you for it." She teased.

He took a weapon from the box beside him, a semi automatic Colt pistol. "You should take one."

"I have my own stuff." She showed a pair of PPG pistols and a long knife at her side.

"That a Balosian knife?" He asked.

"A present from Commander Kanos." She said heavily.

"Give it a good home." Paul agreed with her sentiment, remembering the brave leader of the Balosian Navy. "Like buried in a Spectres head."

"Count on it." She leaned in for another kiss. "Be careful."

He returned the gesture. "You too."

The Platoon had gathered, fully armed and ready. They checked their weapons and gear and then began moving out.

"Hey, hate to break this up." Garibaldi said respectfully. "But we're on our way."

Paul and Jenny stepped apart, eyes still locked.

"I won't be long." She said.

"I'll be waiting, as long as I have to." Paul affirmed simply. "Hey Crowbar, keep her out of trouble."

"You got it." Garibaldi grinned. "We're trusting her to keep us all alive."

"Not the first time." She grinned at the Sergeant. "Go on, I'm right behind you."

The Sergeant nodded and turned away, walking back to his unit.

"Sure you don't want a free pick at the box of guns?" Paul asked. "I got a Tommy gun here with your name on it."

"Never change." She smiled sincerely. "I'll be back soon."

"See that you are." Paul said sternly. "I'll be waiting Mrs Calendar."

"In your dreams Mr Sakai."

He grinned and shook his head. "We'll talk about this later."

"Okay Mr Sakai!" She called back. "You'll never beat me, you know that right?"

"Later!" He chuckled.

"She's still got it." He heard Francis say from behind him, finishing work with the Radio.

"Yeah, she really does."

"Really dedicated, she doesn't have to help those guys."

"No she doesn't, always taking risks for others." Paul nodded. "That's my girl."

"You know you'll have to change your name."

"Yeah, I was just thinking that." Paul admitted.

"To Sakai."

"Yeah, I know."

"Because it sounds like she's made up her mind, and she'll…"

"Yes Francis, I get the picture." He turned around. "Come on, we better go."

"Back to the camp?"

"Yeah."

Francis paused. "You're going to follow her aren't you?"

"I'll give it five minutes." He grinned like a guilty schoolboy. "Well what did you expect?"

"Fifty credits says she breaks your legs."

The departure of the platoon did not go unnoticed. From the rocks and outcrops of the cavern a set of eyes watched the human soldiers file away, alert and ready for action but utterly oblivious to his presence. As it should be. As one group left another group also began collecting its affects and preparing itself to depart in another direction. Wherever they went, would be where he would begin his fight.

As Val'cet watched them go he looked carefully at the different types of humans in the groups. Most were in the standard desert camouflaged uniforms of the army, with various standardised equipment and weapons. They did seem to have slightly different markings and while the unit badges were obscured they did appear to be from two different units. Among them though he also isolated three individuals who had no markings and who wore military style clothes, but not as uniform as the serving soldiers. He did not know what the target looked like, this highly capable human codebreaker, but he would bet his life on it being one of those three. If he was wrong, and he attacked and blew their cover for a couple of nobodies, Jha'dur would probably skin him alive anyway. Quite a gamble.

He slipped quietly away and left to rejoin his comrades, they had one chance to do this and escape. They were so deep into human controlled territory getting out was going to be damn hard, getting back in again virtually impossible now the Earth troops were established. If they didn't get him this time, they never would.

Jha'dur wanted him alive, but would accept him dead if escape was impossible. Of course as she had specified alive that was what she expected, the only time they'd kill him would be if escape was impossible, and naturally that meant they too would be killed in these treacherous caverns. With luck it would not come to that, and Jha'dur would have her prize.

In addition to the Spectres the Company of regular troops was also deployed. They were cold, wet and miserable as well as being extremely nervous so far underground. Most expected to die, and they were probably right. The Spectres had a slim chance of escaping and they were the best. The regular troops were doomed and would be used to give the Spectres time to escape.

He merged with the darkness and made his report while the humans began to move his way.

"Are you two gentlemen ready?" Lieutenant Zarina asked curtly.

"Whenever you are." Paul nodded, grabbing the handle of his box which had a convenient set of wheels.

"Let number one squad go first, then you two, then two squad following."

"Got it Lieutenant."

She looked at the rifle Paul was holding, and raised an amused eyebrow. "Can you use that?"

"Not bad with it." He nodded.

"Good, but you should have brought a Kalishnikov, those old rifles are wasted down here. Too close ranged."

"I have to say getting stuck down here wasn't in my plan."

"I can understand that." Zarina agreed. "Time we were going."

The group set off, lighting their way with lanterns and rifle mounted torches. They proceeded slowly and carefully, speaking little and staying alert but with no sign of trouble. They carried on through the tunnels until a yellow glow began to intensify ahead.

"Cavern Eighteen." Zarina whispered. "Brakiri check point."

The Earth Force troops still moved carefully, the Russian Sergeant at the front waving them carefully into the expanded cave and checked around.

"No sentry." Zarina frowned. "Dmitri, what is up there?"

"Nothing Lieutenant, it is empty." The Sergeant reported gruffly. "There is lighting, few crates of rations, no people."

"Secure the perimeter." She ordered. "I do not like this."

"Me neither." Paul agreed. "What do we do?"

"We take a strong defensive position, try to find out what happened, then move on and report this area as unguarded."

"Will they send someone else to hold this place?" Francis asked.

"Probably." Zarina nodded. "But not us, we have orders to get you to the General, and that is our priority."

"Good to be special huh?" Paul nudged him playfully.

They moved into the cavern, the area already swept by the Russian soldiers. There were three entrances, one where they themselves had entered and two on the far side about four hundred yards away. The cavern was cluttered with rocks, boulders and stalagmites making it difficult to see from one end to the other and forcing anyone passing through to take a fairly indirect path.

"Cosy." Paul grunted as he saw the expanse of bare rock.

"Good cover." Zarina countered. "Find a corner and wait for me to fetch you."

The two men did as ordered, with Francis keeping his hand on the snub nosed PPG he carried as standard issue.

"Hey Francis." Paul waved him over. "Look, if we're getting into trouble I want you to take something."

"What?"

"A gun a man would carry."

He opened the box and took out a wooden stocked short machine gun.

"This is Thompson, he's going to save your life."

Paul handed over the gun.

"This is a proper gangster gun isn't it?" Francis grinned.

"World War Two vintage, but basically." Paul nodded. "Now all you have to do is pull that handle back, push that catch forward, and point it at the badguy."

Francis took the weapon and hefted its weight.

"Don't make them light do they?" He complained mildly.

"Helps balance the recoil." Paul offered. "It's not a PPG, these things have a nasty kick, but down here at these sort of ranges it'll slice anyone in half. Just be careful who you shoot."

The found a quiet corner and Paul helped Francis stuff his pockets with magazines for his new acquisition.

"Hopefully we won't run into trouble." Paul began, then smiled. "But you know how this usually goes by now."

He slammed a magazine into the old looking gun and clicked back the lever.

"I'm ready for it." Francis said confidently.

"See, you don't get that sort of confidence with a PPG." Paul nodded. "Man's weapon that."

He checked around him, noticing the Russian soldiers investigating the area while Lieutenant Zarina reported the situation in to command. He notices a few scattered ration packs, a Brakiri radio, and in a shadowed part of the cavern a rifle.

"I don't think they just walked away from this." He mentioned anxiously.

"No, no they didn't." Paul agreed. He leaned over and moved a rock out of the way, the heavy boulder scraping to reveal a small hollow. In it, to his disgust but not surprise, was the body of a Brakiri soldier.

"I hate my life."

Francis looked over his shoulder and had to fight the urge to throw up.

"Oh crap, oh that's not good."

"Know what this means?" Paul asked.

"We're going to have to fight for our lives again aren't we?"

Paul nodded. "Pretty much."

Francis sighed, pushing his mind up to full alert. "Not the best week of my life."

"Tell me about it." Paul unchecked the safety on his rifle. "Call Jenny, get them back here, I'll warn the Lieutenant very quietly."

Paul set off, walking with a deliberate nonchalance. He felt he was being watched, so acted as naturally as he could as if simply wishing to converse with Zarina. Meanwhile Francis carefully took his radio out of Paul's crate and began winding the frequency.

"Danny boy calling broadsword." He said quietly. "Broadsword, come in."

"Danny boy?" A voice answered. "This is not a good time."

"Broadsword, I think we found your little friends…"

His words turned out to be more true than he realised. Feet away, and with no earlier indication, a figure materialised, phasing and coalescing into reality like a ghost, like a Spectre. It was a disadvantage in the system, fast movement tended to blur the stealth suits, things like running and fighting overwhelmed the processors and gave the Spectre the image of a blur, while still draining a great deal of power. Before combat it was easier and more efficient to disengage the system. If you ever actually saw a Spectre, most people did not live to tell of it.

It brought back a black memory for Francis, the cold pouring rain of Geneva, the pounding of his heart and burning of his lungs as he faced one of this assassins on Earth itself. Jenny had been there to save him then, right now he was alone.

He had a moment of utter blind panic, the sort of reaction a fish has when it is hauled from the water on a line. It lasted just long enough for him to hear Gunny Hurley's voice roaring at him as if the venerable old Marine was stood right next to his ear. It politely pointed out that he had a gun in his hand, and that now would be a prudent time to use it to its full potential. Though not in so many words.

Francis raised the Tommy gun, not having any idea whether it would shoot or not and pointed the muzzle at the Spectre, his face contorting into a bellow of challenge and defiance. He looked the part, he was well armed and Francis was entirely ready to pull that trigger. But he was at the core an analyst, and two weeks of training did not make him a field agent. The Dilgar before him had a lifetime of training and could match the best Earth had to offer. Francis was a little light relief to the calibre of soldier Arn'dal had brought with him.

He disarmed Francis with ease, twisting the gun out of his hands in a swift move and letting it clatter to the ground. Francis fumbled for his PPG, but the Dilgar just thumped him in the chest shockingly hard, winding him and dropping him to the floor breathless.

As he hit the floor he heard voices shouting, and then gunfire echoing in the cavern as the Russian soldiers took cover, from the corner of his eye he saw the missing Dilgar company arrive, the regular soldiers Red Platoon had been looking for. They pinned Zarina's unit, forced them to look that way and engage the regular Soldiers. None of them looked back to see Francis and his predicament.

The Spectre was armed, but did not shoot Francis as he lay completely helpless, nor did he draw a knife or other blade. Instead he took a cord from his belt and stretched it out, then moved forward. Francis realised they wanted him alive, and that prospect scared him more than death.

He kicked at the Spectre, laying on his back he could bring both legs up for the thrust, but the Dilgar shoved them aside with minimal effort. The Dilgar shot a hand down and grabbed him, then motioned to hit him in the face, aiming to render him unconscious. Francis gathered his strength to keep fighting, ready to lash out violently and desperately against his powerful attacker, ready to do anything to stay alive like a cornered animal.

He didn't have to, with a loud crack the Dilgar was pushed sideways by an invisible force, dropping like a doll beside Francis with his limbs splayed awkwardly. He shuddered and twitched, and that sight revolted Francis on many levels, yet he didn't feel sorry. He was glad to see the Dilgar suffer helplessly, and he hated himself for it.

"I keep telling people I can shoot." Paul shook his head, offering Francis a hand. "Maybe now they'll believe me!"

He took the hand and was hauled up.

"Thanks."

"Here to help." Paul grinned. "Grab the gun and let's find cover."

They ran towards the Russian troops, Francis scooping up the Tommy gun as they moved. Ahead of them the platoon was heavily engaged, firing streams of plasma over the tops of the broken ground into the skittering figures of the Dilgar raiders.

"Ganya. Cover the left!" Zarina called. "Pin that flank!"

One of the soldiers armed with a heavy machine gun shifted his fire, the loud ripping chatter of the gun filling the air and chipping shards of sedimentary rock from the cavern.

"Lieutenant!" Paul slid to a stop beside her, ducking his head as blue partcile shots sliced past in gusts of electrified air. "We got trouble."

"I can see that Mr Calendar, but thank you for the observation!"

"No, I mean real trouble!"

There was a loud dull crump as an explosive charge went off, a small grenade that burst among the Russian positions.

"Spectres!" Paul shouted over the shooting. "We nailed one, but I'll bet there's more!"

Zarina swore in Russian before looking up. "Wait, you killed one?"

"Will people stop acting so surprised that I can fight!" Paul grunted.

"We've called for back up." Francis said. "I think I got through."

"I hope so." Zarina said, keeping her eye on the enemy. "Our own systems are down, must be a jammer nearby."

"Probably got those Spectres to thank." Paul hissed. "What can we do?"

"Just watch our back." The Lieutenant said. "I hate surprises."

Francis was rather pleased to be left alone and not need to fight the Dilgar advance, but at the same time he was incredibly on edge, well aware that a Spectre could come out of nowhere and grab him at anytime. They shifted position and nestled behind a cluster of rocks, close enough to provide support to the Russians but not so close to be in the line of fire.

"How you holding up?" Paul asked, keeping a check on the flashes of light and energy.

"Okay." Francis answered. "That Spectre, he didn't kill me."

"Yeah I noticed." Paul agreed. "I think he wanted you alive."

The young man let out a ragged breath, the Captain confirming his own fears.

"They know who I am."

"Now that might not be true…"

"It is, it has to be, they want me alive to interrogate me." Francis shook his head in horror. "Do you have any idea what a Dilgar interrogation is?"

"I can make a good guess."

"I can't go through that, just can't." He said plainly. "I can't hold under torture."

"No one can." Paul assured. "It won't happen."

"You'll make sure of it won't you?" Francis insisted. "I can't be taken alive, don't let them."

"It won't…"

"I mean it Paul!"

The pilot sighed. "If it comes to it, they won't get you."

"Alright." Francis felt better, and the fact the concept of certain death relaxed him said a lot about his current situation. "Alright, but lets stick to Plan A and just stay alive."

"That's always my plan A." Paul grinned. "Stay close and wait for the cavalry."

There was a clatter of rock nearby, away from the main firefight. At once the two men raised their weapons and strained their ears for more noise, hearing scuffles of boots on stone.

"Other side." Paul whispered. "Behind us."

Francis nodded, clutching the Tommy gun tightly

"Ready for this?" The older man asked, adjusting his grip on the old rifle he was carrying, preparing to use it in anger.

Francis wasn't even remotely ready, but found himself nodding along anyway. One year ago video games were about as dangerous as his life got, now he was in a war facing a vicious enemy including invisible commandos. It defied belief, but it was his reality now and he couldn't escape it. He had to help the soldiers fighting hard beside them, he had to fight, but this time it was a straight fight, taking on the Dilgar openly in a real battle. It was a lot different to his previous experience, he wanted to run away very, very fast, but couldn't. It wasn't bravery that made him stay there and rest his finger on the trigger, it was fear of being caught alone in the caves by a Spectre.

Paul saw the nod, and with a reassuring grin made his move, standing up and leaning over the rocks at his back. Without thinking, and therefore not questioning how incredibly dangerous this was, Francis followed him and was relieved to see a small group of normal Dilgar soldiers a few yards away. He shouldn't have been relieved of course, any of those alien soldiers could have happily killed him, but they weren't Spectres and he took what relief he could in the unfolding nightmare.

The Dilgar hadn't been expecting them, but reacted fast, splitting and throwing themselves into cover with a brusque shout. Paul immediately opened fire, the rifle cracking loudly as he fired a pair of rounds into the group, striking the closest enemy. Francis decided to follow his lead, aiming the Tommy gun and pulling the trigger.

He completely underestimated the recoil, as soon as he pulled the trigger he felt the weapon start to climb and spray bullets into the roof of the cavern. He stopped, took a much tighter hold of the weapon, then tried again. This time his aim was better, the heavy projectiles banging deafeningly as they left the machine gun and shattered on the stone croppings.

Unfortunately he had still failed to hit anything, but at least he knew not to understimate the old weapon he was carrying.

"Down!" Paul grabbed his arm and dragged him hard back behind cover, several shots of blue energy rippling overhead as he did so. "Shoot and hide!" He said sharply.

"Okay, okay got it." Francis said breathlessly.

"Just pop up, shoot a few rounds, then back down." Paul told him. "Wait until they reload."

Luckily Francis didn't have to try it alone, with a thud a burly Russian soldier dropped beside him, and more nimbly followed Lieutenant Zarina.

"I saw them trying to flank us." She said quickly. "How many?"

"About seven." Paul said. "Minus one."

She waved to her comrade, and both the Lieutenant and the soldier poised themselves. "On three."

Francis steeled himself, more happy to have some professional back up. The responsibility didn't weight with him anymore, he didn't have to stop these people, just help the real soldiers.

Zarina made the count down, the three men around her tensing their muscles until the moment arrived.

"Now!"

The four of them stood and fired, shooting over the cover into the Dilgar who were about to rush them. Francis just fired wildly, having a lot of trouble aiming the vicious Tommy gun for more than one or two seconds. It didn't really matter, the sound and fearsome affects of the weapon proved more dangerous than the actual bullets, causing the Dilgar to flinch away from him first and the professional soldiers second, and that proved their undoing.

Paul fired rapidly, taking down another Dilgar with the powerful shots from his rifle while Zarina and her platoon member dealt with the rest, hosing them down with well timed automatic plasma fire. The last sound was the slight ring of Paul's cartridge case ejecting from the rifle and bouncing off the floor.

"Flank secure." Zarina announced. "Back to the front, you two stay here."

She turned and began trotting back to the main fight, the heavy set soldier following her.

"You're welcome!" Paul threw after her. "It was our pleasure!"

She turned and gave him a look like poison, and Paul gave her a little wave back, guessing it would probably annoy her more.

"Uptight little Russkie isn't she?" Paul mumbled to Francis.

Francis honestly didn't think she was that bad, and gave a respectful nod to the Lieutenant.

It was at that second, still facing them and backing away, that Zarina suddenly arched her back and gasped in sudden shock. Francis blinked in surprise, and when he refocused saw a long silver blade protruding from her abdomen through her uniform.

It took him two more seconds to grip his gun and raise it, by which time Paul was already taking aim at the thin air to the left of the wounded Lieutenant and pulling his trigger.

The Spectre was already materialising as he pushed Zarina aside and grabbed for the other soldier, snatching his gun aside and effortlessly sweeping a curved knife over the big mans throat in a couple of heartbeats, never so much as losing his balance of poise.

Both Russian soldiers hit the ground at about the same time, the Spectre launching himself in a ripple of black fabric as Paul opened fire, everything seeming to slow as Francis' brain sped up to keep pace, fuelled by adrenaline and fear.

Smoking brass cartridges hit the floor as Paul swung the rifle around, face locked in a grimace as he tried to hit the agile enemy soldier, kicking up dust and stones where he missed. The Dilgar Spectre was looking straight at them, all his features obscured by the stealth suit except for his knife. He moved very fast, never putting a foot wrong on the difficult ground as he ran at Francis.

Nothing was going to stop him unless Francis did something. This was a Spectre, he had already demonstrated how deadly he was, if he got any closer Paul would be dead and Francis himself would be dragged away to the Warmaster and who knows what else. He had to act, he had to overcome the incredible intimidation he was feeling staring at this opponent and he had to do it now.

Francis almost left it too late, while he decided very rapidly the Dilgar was moving so fast it took a few more instants for him to aim the Tommy gun and pull the trigger. The gun thumped back in his arms, bracing its stock against his side to control the jolt of the recoil. Francis was having a hard time aiming the gun, but at this sort of range aiming wasn't especially important. The .45 calibre bullets slammed into the Spectre, his black clothing rippling like puddles in the rain as they hit. The graceful and deadly attack stopped dead as the force of the impacts hurled the Spectre backwards, his arms flailing as he tried to keep balance.

There was a click, deafeningly loud as Francis ran out of bullets. The Spectre stepped back once more to hold his balance, and then to Francis' horror stood up straighter and began heading his way, the body armour clearly protection against the barrage of bullets.

The Spectre suddenly spun around, Francis hearing his gasp of pain as Paul put a rifle bullet through him punching right through the body armour. There was another ding as Paul's expended clip hit the floor, the Spectre stumbling and doubling over looking away. Despite the damage the rifle bullet must have caused the Spectre did not fall, straightening back up with a rasp of breath and turning back to face the two men.

"Uh oh." Francis managed.

"Reload!" Paul ordered, his own gun empty.

Francis dug into his pouches and grabbed a new magazine while Paul elected to buy him a little time, reversing his rifle and rushing at the Spectre, thick wooden stock swinging like a club as he roared in a mix of fear and anger.

The Spectre was badly wounded and Paul was confident of victory despite the superior skills of his enemy, making the choice in a split second and committing fully. He took two long steps, rifle swinging above his head as he aimed at the Dilgar soldier, timing his attack to connect with the mans temple. The Spectre dodged enough to throw off Paul's aim, but not enough to avoid the human's attack fully.

The heavy end of the rifle impacted hard against the Spectres body, near the bullet hole Paul had put through his left shoulder. The Spectre cried out in pain and anger, stepping quickly back in agony. Francis was still clicking the magazine into place so Paul pressed his advantage, reversing his attack and swinging the rifle from the opposite direction.

This time though the Spectre was ready, sidestepping and twisting away as the Garand connected with thin air, then kicking Paul hard in the left leg and dropping him to his knees. Francis was still loading as the Spectre recovered, regaining its grip on the curved knife and stepping over Paul. The Captain wasn't done yet, not ready just to give in to fate, brought his rifle up in a jab, but the Spectre caught it in his free hand, holding it solid in an iron grip. Paul could not see the enemy soldiers face, but could hear the quiet laugh.

That laugh was the last thing he knew. With a stomach turning crunch something heavy hit the back of his head, sending the Spectre sprawling face first onto the floor before he could do anything more. Standing in the space where the Spectre had occupied was the most welcome and familiar figure Paul could ever have wished for.

"What is it with you and Dilgar?" Jenny asked, turning the rifle over in her hands so the blood stained stock slid under her arm.

"Must be my charm."

Jenny coldly fired into the unconscious Dilgar Spectre, making very sure he didn't get back up again. It was training, no field agent would leave an enemy at their back to get up again, but the ease with which she did it sent a little chill through Paul.

"I swear you guys carry catnip in your pockets." Sergeant Garibaldi grunted as he arrived on the scene, the rest of Red Platoon bolting forward to support the Russians.

"It's not my fault!" Paul defended. "Not this time!"

"They want me alive." Francis said hollowly. "My fault, they're here because of me."

"They'd have shown up anyway." Garibaldi dismissed. "Tucker, let's open up the left flank. Harlow, get up front and lay down some cover."

"You two." Jenny pointed at Paul and Francis. "Bail, it's all clear down that tunnel."

"You positive?" the agent asked.

"Certified by Delilah." She named Franklin's pet Alsation. "She's tied up back there out of danger, she'll let you know if trouble is coming. Then call me!"

"Got it."

"Now move out." She ordered. "Leave this to Crowbar and me, go!"

Jenny was gone before Paul could answer, vaulting over a rock and firing her rifle the second she touched down. Garibaldi and the Platoon were also advancing, firing and ducking as they moved from cover to cover, filling the cavern with flashes of red plasma to answer the Dilgar blue.

"We got our orders." Paul stood back up, his leg running through with pain where the Spectre had injured him. "Damn that bugger kicked like a mule."

Francis stood shakily to his feet, his head still spinning. "So we're going?"

"Or you can argue with Jenny?" Paul suggested with a faint smile.

Francis considered it for a second. "Okay, lets go."

A couple of stray shots whizzed past encouraging them to stay low and move fast, a reminder that just a few feet away people were fighting for their lives. As they moved Paul caught a movement at the corner of his vision.

"Wait!" He grabbed Francis and pulled him into a crouch. "Zarina!"

Not far away the Russian Lieutenant was moving, laid on her back and gripping her stomach wound. She turned her head when she heard her name, but was clearly not in a fit state to take care of herself.

"Come on, cover me." Paul said.

"But…" Francis began, then cut himself off. He cursed inwardly that he would be ready to abandon a wounded comrade and bit his lip to keep a straight face as he darted back towards the danger.

"Hey." Paul dropped beside her. "Stay still, we're here to get you out."

She blinked a set of dark eyes at him. "You… should run."

"Don't worry, we're getting the hell out of here." Paul assured her. "And so are you."

He grabbed the Russian and scooped her up in his arms, the rifle slung on his back. Zarina gasped with pain but remained conscious as Paul began to run as fast as he dared with the fallen officer in his arms. Francis followed, sweeping his gun left and right as he tried to spot any Spectres amid the chaos and noise.

Paul slid on some stones, fighting to keep his balance and barely succeeding before making it to the tunnel and escaping into the cool dimness outside the cavern, quickly locating Delilah and the place Jenny told them to wait.

"Okay." He lowered the Russian. "First aid kit, you got one?"

"I…I…" She managed between clenched teeth, groaning at the pain of the wound.

"Come on Zarina girl, give me something here!" Paul demanded, going through her pockets. "You gotta have something I can give you!"

Francis stopped and crouched beside them, still facing the way they had come and holding the Tommy gun for dear life.

"How is she?"

"Not good." Paul said grimly. "Have you got a tranq?"

Francis shook his head with huge regret, eyes fixed on the Russian who had met him on his first landing on Balos, now straining and shaking on the ground. It was a terifying thing to see, but he couldn't look away.

"Francis!" Paul snapped, drawing his gaze. "Keep a watch for trouble and stop gawping!"

He looked away in shame, looking instead at the firefight in the cavern. He could see Dilgar soldiers behind the human troops, the Earth Force units seemingly surrounded and firing in all directions. He caught a glimpse of jenny kicking the legs from under a Dilgar infantryman before shoving the muzzle of her rifle under his chin and firing. He could se Garibaldi and his friend Dom back to back spraying gunfire in both directions as the numerically superior Dilgar forces gained ground.

"Paul, it's not looking like its going well."

"Little busy." The other man chided. "Just keep me covered."

He swore loudly as he finished emptying the Lieutenants pockets. "Where the hell is that medical kit?"

Zarina's arm suddenly shot up and grabbed his, her grip digging hard into his forearm. She looked straight at him pleadingly, whispering something in Russian which he could not understand, before ever so slowly her grip lessened and her hand fell away.

"No you don't!" Paul leaned over and began pounding her chest. "Not after I went back for you! Come on! The Dilgar didn't earn your life! Come on!"

Francis had to fight hard as he watched Paul throwing himself into his attempts at resuscitation, the dark eyes and pale face of Anna Zarina looking up at something only she could now see.

"Paul."

"Come on!" He struck her chest. "Don't give in now!"

"Paul!" Francis yelled. "It's too late!"

The Freighter Captain looked up, his eyes wide and mouth open in an unwillingness to accept what had happened.

"She didn't deserve this."

"I know, but who does?"

Paul's eyes fell on the battle taking place a few hundred yards away, his expression hardening. "They do."

In the distance he spotted one of the Airborne soldiers falling to his knees as a Spectre fired into him, rapid blue pulses striking the unfortunate soldier. Seconds later he spotted Jenny swiping a knife at the Dilgar Special Forces operative, forcing him to block her.

"Our friends are fighting for their lives." Paul stood, grabbing his rifle.

"You heard what Jenny said!"

"I did, so stay here." Paul ordered. "I'm going to help her out."

Without another word he sprinted back towards the fight, leaving Francis with the body of Anna and the dog. He looked at Delilah, then at the body, then at Paul running back into the fight.

"This is the dumbest thing…" He muttered, then pushed to his feet and ran back towards the cavern.

The Spectre was good, his footwork swift and his balance excellent, but Jenny was pushing him back. She was attacking swiftly, long knife held in either hand as she slashed and lunged with blurring speed. Her rifle had expended its charge and she hadn't had time to reload before needing to fight her next opponent, so fell back on other means.

The Spectre used his rifle like a staff, spinning and blocking her attacks frantically as she hacked her way forward, shifting her weight and poise with extreme grace and precision, calling on her training and natural affinity for the art of single combat.

The Dilgar backed off enough to recover, and he only needed half a second to go on the attack looping the muzzle of his rifle towards her. She blocked with one blade, and when he tried to strike with the stock of his weapon blocked that with the other knife, deflecting the attack rather than absorbing its energy. She took a step back, seeming to retreat and drawing the Dilgar in for another follow up attack. It was a ruse, and as he lifted his foot from the ground to follow she lashed out, spinning on her heel and drawing both knives through the air at neck height.

The Spectre however was better than expected, ducking under her attack and cutting up with the back of his rifle. Jenny leaned away, allowing the rifle the swish pas before back handing the Spectre with a punch and following with a snarl and a lunge. Again he stepped back, this time hefting his rifle overhead and bringing it down in a massive downward strike.

There was no time to dodge, so Jenny took the hit, catching the rifle as it rushed down on both knives. She absorbed the energy across her whole body, bending her knees and twisting with the impact, grunting with the effort. She ended up crouched with the rifle inches from her head, the Dilgar stood over her, she looked up, right into the enemies eyes and grinned wildly.

She hooked a side kick into his chest, pushing the man back and leapt to her feet, immediately going into a swift attack before the Spectre recovered his balance. She brought her blades down through the air in figure eights, crossing and uncrossing her arms as she kept up the pressure, finally forcing his rifle an inch too far from his body and opening up a chink in his defence.

With instant speed she turned the knife in her right hand over on her wrist, the foot long Balosian blade glinting in the light of the gunfire as she snatched it back and rammed it under the left arm of her enemy and into his lungs.

The Spectre collapsed as she withdrew the blade and lunged with her left hand weapon, stabbing it up into his neck before ripping it out and looking for a fresh target to deal with.

The Dilgar were everywhere, swarming in and out of cover and surrounding the two human platoons, often rushing forward to try and catch isolated pockets of men and women in order to wipe them out. They hadn't counted on the tenacity of the Earth troops and the small group was still fighting back hard, but it wasn't discouraging the Dilgar and more worryingly it was distracting her from the job of locating and dealing with the Spectres.

A line of deceased Dilgar were stacked outside the little enclave The Russians and the Airborne unit had dug into, and more were scattered at her own feet where they had tried to get into the little redoubt and attack the soldiers from behind.

She leaned down and retrieved her rifle, clipping a fresh charge from her belt. She was preparing to head back when she heard the bang of an old rifle, and knew at once it had to be Paul.

"Dammit." She snarled, searching for the source of the noise and seeing Francis too. She had sworn to keep them safe, both to herself and to the Director of the EIA, however he two headstrong men were making her job rather more difficult than it had to be.

She immediately made toward them but something, some voice or sense made her suddenly stop and duck her head. Some rustle or hint, even a sixth sense told her to move and it was very lucky that she did. Her dark eyes widened as a long silver blade flickered from thin air and passed over her head, a slight scrape of fabric and rush of wind the only indication it was no illusion.

She jabbed her elbow out on instinct, connecting with an invisible figure and buying herself a moment of time to slide away, spinning and bringing around her rifle for a burst into the vicinity of what could only be a Spectre.

Before she was halfway through the wheel the rifle was knocked from her hands, an immense black cloaked figure emerging in front of her, his leg hooking the rifle out of her grip. She let it go, the Spectre was too close anyway and in a swift move took out one of the Balosian knifes, slicing it up at her attacker.

He stepped back, letting the swing miss and reversing an attack with his own long assassins blade, the sharp curved knife flashing in the dull light. Jenny leaned back and halted suddenly, throwing of the Spectre's aim, then resumed her own assault with a sideways cut at the Spectres face. He moved back again, but Jenny was faster and the blade cut across his forehead, barely touching him but enough to cut the veiled hood from his features and trace a thin red line on his scalp.

As the mask fell, Jenny saw that far from looking fearsome or strained the Spectre was in fact grinning.

He lunged, stabbing his knife at her eyes and forcing her to twist her head away to avoid it, the silver blade catching a few wisps of hair that trailed behind her head.

He tried to cut it sideways but by then she had it blocked and spun away, taking a low fighting stance and drawing her second knife, holding one high and one low with her eyes fixed on the Spectre.

The big Dilgar took the measure of his opponent with a wide smile still fixed to his face, ignoring the shouts and chaos of the fighting around him and focusing entirely on the nimble EIA agent. With a brief nod of approval, as if deeming her a worthy challenge, he swung his long knife and advanced.

Elsewhere Paul was dealing with his own troubles, down on one knee pushing a clip of long bullets into his rifle as two crazy eyed Dilgar soldiers rushed him. The didn't stop to fire on him, which would have been smarter, but seemed entirely out of control, frenzied and filled with a desire to spill blood up close.

There was a ripping shear of bullets as Francis opened fire, the Tommy gun hitting both charging Dilgar soldiers and hurling one straight to the floor. The other staggered, roared in pure hatred and then started towards Paul again with bayonet aimed right at his chest, but by then Paul was ready. He fired from the hip, but close enough not to miss. It took three more bullets to stop the enemy soldier, but eventually he too dropped.

"That guy didn't know when to give up." Paul stood up. "Like he was badly jacked up on something."

"We heard the Dilgar were giving their soldiers stim packs." Francis confirmed. "You can blow off limbs and they'll still try and attack you, saw some of the test footage. Experiments on League prisoners." Francis shuddered. "Makes you never doubt why we're out here."

"We're cleaning up the galaxy." He looked for another target. "Come on, this way."

They scampered over to another little side corner, keeping their weapons ready and avoiding the worst of the fighting. They spotted a few more Dilgar along the way and fired on them, taking them by surprise and defeating them without too much risk.

"Okay, okay going good." Francis allowed.

"Just avoid the real combat." Paul said. "I don't want to fight by their rules."

Francis was very happy about that.

"We'll move again, stay on our feet and…"

Francis saw the black shape come from nowhere and knew at once what it was. It emerged from hiding between Paul and himself and instantly went for the Captain.

"Spectre!"

Paul reacted at once, swinging his rifle around but too slowly, the Spectre grabbed it in one hand and punched him with another. Francis was raising his gun, already beginning to squeeze the trigger when the Spectre, still holding Paul's rifle, kicked him hard and laid the Agent out flat.

Paul spat blood and rammed the back of the rifle into the Spectre's chest but with no affect, the weapon banging hollowly on some body armour. The rifle was snatched from his hand and again the fist crashed down on his head, stunning him faster than he had expected and leaving Paul sprawled out on the floor separated from his Garand.

Francis fired off a few rounds as he tried to get up, holding the gun one handed which didn't help his accuracy. One or two shots hit and were stopped by the Dilgar body armour, he didn't get a chance to fire any more as the Dilgar swiftly disarmed him.

Francis scrambled backwards, the Dilgar Spectre advancing slowly and letting him get to his feet. He saw Paul still down on the floor, saw his weapon well out of reach, and saw the Spectre almost on top of him. He was breathing fast and shallow, but wasn't panicking even though he thought he should be. He ran through several plans, stopping on the easiest. The PPG lodged at his waist.

He wasn't a cowboy but was hoping he could be quicker on the draw than the Dilgar. He grabbed the gun in its holster and dragged it out, aiming to shoot the Dilgar in the head as he doubted the gun would harm his body armour fast enough for an incapacitating injury. He was faster than he expected, he didn't fumble or drop the weapon and held it steadily in his hand as he swept it up without snagging it on his clothes. It didn't make a difference.

The Spectre was faster, much faster, and much stronger. It rushed up until it was inches away grabbed Francis' hand in one swift move, twisted the gun inwards and pressed down on his own finger on the trigger. Francis was helpless to stop the move, it was so fast and overpowering by the time it clicked in his mind it was over, all he knew was a deep heat low on his chest and the vile smell of burning flesh and fabric.

The PPG clattered to the floor, the sound muffled as blood rushed through Francis' ears and distorted all the sounds around him. He couldn't feel the side of his body, a spreading numb warmth replacing normal sensation as he stepped slowly back. He touched his side, feeling the stickiness of blood leaking from the mostly cauterized wound caused by his own gun. With a frown he stumbled and fell back onto the floor, not crying out but just watching the Spectre stood above him.

Val'cet, second in prestige among the Spectres smiled, removing his mask so the human could se his face. This was the target, the code breaker his Warmaster demanded. He had wounded him, and the wound was a serious one but if he moved fast the Warmaster would still have a living prize for her entertainment. He took a cord from his pocket and prepared to bind the young man, stepping over him when he heard a mechanical click, then an impact like a hammer.

Paul had risen to his feet, mouth full of blood like a Vampire. He raised a pistol in his hand, a potent .45 Colt and without bothering to declare himself fired into the Spectre, the bullets punching into his back. Unfortunately Val'cet also had high grade body armour. He turned as the bullets hit him, changing the impacts from his back to his chest, the fabric ripping and one round searing past one ear before the gun clicked empty.

It was a distraction, but one Val'cet decided to indulge in, withdrawing his personalised knife with a slow deliberate action. He felt the bullet impacts, the squashed hot lead in his body armour and their ineffectiveness, then looked up and smiled evilly at Paul, taking a step forward.

Paul also smiled, exposing blood streaked teeth as he dropped the expended Colt and took another weapon from his side, the smile growing wider as he hauled up a massive revolver with an impractically long barrel. It was his pride and joy, an original Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum immortalised in 20th Century culture. He owned it because of its heritage, but also because in a galaxy of giant aliens the stupidly big gun usually was the last word in any situation.

As he raised it up and pointed the vast hand cannon at Val'cet, the Dilgar's smile slowly died on his face.

This time the body armour did not save the Spectre, and Val'cet's last thought was a curse of humans and their unswerving desire to always have a bigger gun.

Paul raised the gun as the Spectre sailed through the air and hit the ground, thrown there by the force of the high powered bullet.

"Made my day." He remarked coldly. "Punk."

"Paul!" Francis called out from the floor. "I think I'm in trouble!"

The Captain darted over, seeing clearly from several feet away the black wound burned into his friend's side. He dropped down beside him and took a look at the injury.

"Okay, what can you feel?"

"What the hell do you think I feel!" Francis snapped.

"Not numb anymore then huh?"

"Bloody not!" The Agent snarled, the pain growing exponentially each moment. "I was worried about it, thinking it should hurt to get shot. Wish I hadn't bothered now!"

"Don't worry, pain tells you you're still alive."

Francis gasped a laugh. "Couldn't it take my pulse instead?"

Paul smiled back a little as he tried to peel back some of the burned clothing, drawing an immediate shout of pain from his friend and a small welt of blood.

"Do you know what you're doing!" Francis growled. "Are you a doctor?"

"No."

"Bloody leave it then!"

Paul wasn't a doctor, but he'd seen enough injuries in his time to know this was a bad one. The heat from the shot had melted some of the cheap fabric and fused it to the skin, which was a very bad situation that was going to need the clothing cut out before it triggered an infection.

"You need to buy better clothes, I thought these were military fatigues?" Paul grunted, knowing military fabric was specially designed not to melt, but to burn cleanly.

"Military style." Francis gritted his teeth. "From a supermarket chain."

"Great." He checked his pockets, but again found no medical supplies. He'd seen Zarina die from lack of a medikit, it wasn't going to happen twice.

"Right, I'm going to have to move you."

"What?" The Agent yelled. "Are you Crazy?"

"You wanna stay here with those Dilgar running around?"

Francis paused, before wincing again. "You're right, lets get out of here."

Paul went to the other side of his friend and holstered his revolver, then grabbed him by the shoulders and prepared to move.

"Just so you know, this is really going to hurt."

"Oh thanks, really thanks, that totally put me at ease!"

"Just grit your teeth, I'll try and take it steady."

Paul dug his heel in and dragged Francis, the piercing cry from the wounded man assaulting his ear drums. He didn't stop though, he had to get him into cover and then rush back out and find a first aid kit. He wasn't looking forward to it, but Paul just couldn't watch another wounded person die as he sat beside helplessly.

Francis in his turn was beginning to lose rational thought, the pervasive agony clouding his mind and affecting his judgement. His vision was blurry due to the combination of the pain and blood loss, and he was heading towards delirium.

Paul lost his footing and fell on his knees, dropping Francis at the same time. The young man screamed out again, each sound he made pushing Paul to scan around and see if they had drawn the attention of another Spectre. It was incredibly nerve wracking, yet of course he could not just leave his friend and run for cover, he had to finish this.

"Come on buddy, stay awake down there!" Paul demanded, resuming the improvised rescue mission. "Don't close your eyes!"

"It hurts, bloody hell it hurts!"

"You got shot! You think it'd be fun?"

"Why the hell did I come here?" Francis groaned through short breaths. "What did I think I was doing?"

"Your job!" Paul answered. "Your duty to Earth!"

"I was… so…stupid…" Francis admitted, his head lolling to one side. "Stupid…"

"Keep talking!" Paul grunted, the young man not particularly light to drag. "Talk to me! What are you getting Heather for her birthday?"

"Heather…?"

"Don't play that with me!" Paul threw at him. "Wait until I tell her you forgot her name!"

Francis smiled, looking almost grey. "She'll kill me."

"Yeah, and I'm gonna make sure she gets the chance."

The young man was leaving a steady trail of blood, something Paul noted with genuine concern. He didn't know exactly how much blood a person could lose before they expired, but it was looking like Francis was getting close to that level.

"I'm not watching you die!"

There was a scuffle and a yell as two Dilgar soldiers ran out towards them, eyes wide and bayonets glinting as they saw them and charged forward.

"Crap." Paul said in disappointment, then let one hand go and drew his Model 29 revolver. With Francis still gripped in his other hand he fired on the Dilgar, the powerful shots bowling the two enemy soldiers over with a boom of gunfire.

"Do me a favour," Paul said. "Tell me never to shoot this damn thing one handed again, think I sprained something."

"They… do it in… the movies." Francis pointed out weakly.

"Guess I'll never be an action man then." He grinned. "More a romantic lead."

Francis did chuckle a little, and Paul took that as a good sign as he resumed dragging, the scuffle of more approaching Dilgar forcing him to keep his gun drawn.

"Just gets better and better."

Arn'dal ducked, turning away as he did so and quickly regaining his balance, counter attacking with a double handed swipe with his long knife, cutting up with tremendous force but catching nothing, the human female nimbly avoiding his attack and with exquisite footwork keeping her poise despite the treacherous ground.

She was good competition, and Arn'dal would duel with her all day if he had the opportunity, but more was at stake. The regular troops were getting massacred, the window of opportunity was shrinking and he needed to acquire the Warmaster's prize soon.

The female launched a new attack, sweeping through the air with lightning speed. Arn'dal blocked and dodged, giving ground and letting the human woman dictate the pace. He was confident he had more energy than the smaller opponent he faced and could wait her out, content to let her tire herself before moving to finish her. He struck back, the female using both her blades to block and lashing out with a kick to knock him away, but the blow failed to connect as he side stepped again.

He timed everything he did, every step, lunge or block, measuring it to the degree in order to attack or defend as necessary, knowing that the human was doing the exact same thing. She flowed through attack or defence with the grace of a natural fighter, not someone trained but born to the art of war and single combat. She spun into another attacker, a combination of knives, elbows, knees and kicks all in swift perfect unison, one after the other to push her offensive with no pause or break, it was magnificent, but it was also just a distraction.

In his earpiece he heard a rushed report of two civilians on the far side of the cavern, the soldier making the report was cut off by a crack and a thump, a good sign that these civilians were not toothless. It was all Arn'dal needed to know.

He barked an order and called in his reserve, the last of his Spectres in the area who had been waiting under cloak for this moment. He came out of nowhere and rushed jenny, forcing her to jump back and defend herself from the new attack. She was ready to take them both on, which was admirable, but Arn'dal had other plans and with a smirk departed, letting his subordinate take over the fight.

Jenny swore hard, her knives clanging as she defended herself from the energetic new attack. She didn't have time to deal with a Spectre if there was trouble coming for Paul and Francis, and she strongly suspected that was why the bigger and mare terrifying enemy soldier had broken away to investigate.

She parried and released herself into a swift counter strike, blades singing in the air and rasping on steel as the new Spectre defended himself and retreated step by step, back but not fast enough. She decided to cheat.

"Crowbar!"

Not far away Garibaldi heard her as he belted a Dilgar soldier around the head with his rifle, knocking him flat to the floor.

"What is it?" he shouted back.

"Need a little help!"

At once he started moving, leaping over a pile of rocks and pumping his legs to get him to where his friend was in trouble. "Dom! Move it!"

The other soldier also reacted at once, breaking contact and laying down suppressive fire to keep his Sergeant covered, moving with well practised efficiency barely needing to look over and watch where Garibaldi was, simply working on instinct.

He crossed over and spotted Jenny fighting at amazing speed with the Spectre and dropped to one knee, raising the PPG rifle to his shoulder. He didn't try for a killing shot, content to aim for the Spectre's chest and take no chances. He fired four shots, the more powerful rifle rounds melting through the Spectre's protection and doubling him suddenly over, it was more than enough of an opportunity for Jenny, who swiftly ended the fight.

"Nice shot." She congratulated.

"Anytime."

"Paul and Francis." She stated quickly. "They've got a Spectre on them, a good one."

"So we kill him." Garibaldi said plainly.

"I always liked the way you think." Jenny smiled a little. "Where did he go?"

There was a sudden boom of a large old fashioned gun firing, and all three of them turned towards the sound and without a word started running.

Some Dilgar soldiers were in their way, but didn't last long between the disciplined fire of the two soldiers and jenny's speed. In a single action she drew blood from the neck of one soldier while her other blade pierced the heart of a second enemy, both hitting the floor at the same time with jenny already ten yards away and not looking back.

She didn't stop for anything, she had to catch up with the Spectre before it was too late.

The big handgun thundered again, throwing back another Dilgar like he'd been tugged by a bungie rope at full stretch. He snapped out the cylinder and tipped the still smoking cartridges on the floor, hastily letting go of Francis while he fished replacements from his pockets.

"Hey, you still got that dinky pistol?" Paul asked sharply.

"Wha… no." the wounded man replied.

Paul leaned over and grabbed a Dilgar hand gun, a fairly conventional looking side arm dropped by one of the failed attackers.

"Now you're armed, cover me."

Francis tried to aim the weapon, but his vision was blurring badly and his strength wavering.

"Don't just let me do all the work while you just lay there and bleed!" Paul snapped, clicking his gun shut and grabbing Francis by the collar. "If it moves, shoot it!"

The Dilgar kept on steadily, clearly filled with some concoction that enhanced their stamina and aggression but did not help their intellect, forcing them to try and bodily beat their opponents instead of stand back and shoot them. In a pitched battle it would have been a bad tactical error, but here their job was just to tie and pin the humans while the Spectres went to work, the survival of the regular infantry was largely irrelevant.

Paul tracked and fired, teeth bared as the Dilgar came closer. In their frenzied state it took a lot to put one down, but fortunately his weapon of choice was more than up to the job, putting the hyped up enemy on the ground in one shot. Francis was spraying his pistol wildly, abandoning the concept of aiming and firing as often as he could in the vague direction of his attackers. He had some success, but more of them were coming.

He fired his last round again and was forced to reload, something a PPG didn't need to do anywhere near so often. As he was reloading three more Dilgar rushed him, and while Francis winged one the other two were almost on them.

He loaded one round and just slammed the chamber shut, firing from waist height like a cowboy and blasting the nearest soldier away. The second lunged with a bayonet, something Paul barely avoided, pushing the weapon away as it stabbed past him. He then struck the Dilgar across his nose with the handgun, the heavy barrel stunning the dazed soldier and making him drop his rifle.

It bought Paul a few seconds, long enough to drop two bullets into the gun, snap it shut and fire at the stunned soldier and the one Francis had winged.

"This is why I didn't join the army." Paul emptied the spent cartridges. "In fact, I think the Director owes me some more cash for this, and for dragging your overweight arse out of the fire."

"Hey, I'm… not fat!" Francis complained groggily.

"Try dragging yourself…"

he stopped speaking when another Dilgar jumped from above him, leaping from a high rock to land less than a foot beside him. The man was large and dressed in the black of a Spectre, visible and with his face exposed, blood was running down it.

At once Paul acted, swinging the gun around and squeezing the trigger, but too slow. The Dilgar grabbed the barrel and held it, the shot booming loudly but hitting just rock, then yanked it from his grip and slashed out with a knife. Paul didn't know how but he stretched backwards, pulling his stomach in as the blade swiped past so that it only just nicked him, leaving a slice in his clothes and a thing line of blood across his chest.

As he avoided the strike he had dropped Francis, and now became tangled in the young man, losing his balance and crashing to the floor. The Spectre smirked and advanced on them, kicking Francis' gun fro his barely grasping hand. With a snarl Paul scooped up a rock and threw it, surprising the Dilgar and giving him the satisfaction of seeing the yellow stone bounce of the mans head with a hollow thud.

Paul's victory was short lived, but sweet as the Dilgar recovered and launched forward, knife stabbing down at the Freight Captain. Even with such a lethal opponent Paul had shown he would not give in, none of the people around him would, and that was a victory.

From nowhere a shape rushed the Dilgar, grabbing him out of the air and bowling him over, the knife coming within an inch of Paul's heart. The Spectre rolled across the ground and was soon on his feet, already up opposite him was Jenny.

"What a Fiance!" He laughed in as much relief as joy, and then without stopping to catch breath pushed himself to his knees and stretched for his gun. Luckily he didn't need it.

"Down!" Garibaldi shouted as he emerged on the scene, Dom beside him. Paul did as told, and jenny also spun and threw herself flat leaving the Spectre the only individual on his feet.

The two airborne soldiers opened up on full automatic, pumping round after round into the Spectre in a haze of smoke and shredded material, turning the alien over like a leaf in a stream. He dropped to the floor, rolling to a still stop at the base of a pile of rocks.

"I'm going to nominate you for spy of the year." Paul said. "Girl, that timing was perfect."

"Spy of the year huh?" She stood up and rushed over to Paul.

"Yeah, do they have like a diner or party?"

"We do." Jenny said. "But then we have to kill everyone who saw it."

They hugged tightly before Paul pulled away. "Francis."

She looked over his shoulder and saw the injured man. "Oh no, no, no..."

Quickly she dropped to his side, Garibaldi and Dom joining her.

"PPG wound." She quickly spotted. "Hey Francis, hey, you still in there?"

"That you Jenny?" he said slowly. "Glad you made it."

"Stay brace, I need to turn you."

"Yeah, whatever."

She took hold of his side, knowing it would hurt her friend, but saved her regrets for later and lifted him. Francis yelled out briefly before she quickly laid him back.

"Burning on the back but no opening, the front is the only breach." She informed the two soldiers. "Dom, tranq him, low dosage, he's lost a lot of blood."

The young Soldier did so with great concern.

"Franky man, hold on there alright?" he said. "We got some plans for after the war."

"We do?" the agent asked.

"Yeah, big party." He said reassuringly.

"Am I invited?"

"Nah, you're paying!" Dom laughed. "So you gotta be there for the bar tab."

As the drugs kicked in Garibaldi began treating the wound, spraying it with disinfectant and antiseptic with a frown.

"I'm going to have to get this melted shirt out of there."

"How?" Dom asked.

In answer Garibaldi produced his knife.

"Hey Franky, can you feel anything?" Dom checked urgently.

"I'm just all… floaty." The Agent said back quite contently.

"Great stuff these tranqs." Garibaldi allowed. "Now or never."

"You'r elooking good Franky!" Dom looked away from where the Sergeant set about his grisly work. "Gonna be just fine."

"Dom, friend…" Francis smiled hazily. "You suck at lying."

While they were all busy with Francis, Paul suddenly raised a point.

"Hey, the Spectre's gone!"

"He's what?" Jenny snapped.

"Gone, but I see blood."

"Well at least we hurt him." She huffed. "He won't be back."

"Those guys are like damn horror films, next time I'm putting forty-four in his skull no matter what."

"Good plan." She agreed, cursing herself for failing to check the body herself. Nothing should have survived the inferno Garibaldi and Dom laid down, but clearly she had underestimated the Dilgar agent.

Paul turned back, shrugged, and with no warning at all felt his legs give way and pitch him onto the floor.

"Paul!" Jenny shouted out as he fell, leaping to her feet. "Paul!"

Allied Fleet

The still burning engine glanced over his canopy, the purple disembodied flame throwing it crazily across space as the rest of the Thorun dissolved, another success for Bill Hague, but not one he could dwell on. He rolled his Fury as gunfire lashed past, the all to familiar game of dodge and weave, evade and attack, something he'd done for an eternity.

The stars curled as he rotated the fighter, letting go of his concentration to keep his wits as the plane turned in multiple directions, using the warships around him as points of reference so he didn't spin wildly away in the faceless void. Several vessels rolled past his view, human and alien until he caught sight of the Thorun that had been firing at him, a stream of Bolter fire tracking his controlled tumble. Hague opened fire, his computer aided guns swivelling slightly as the fighter fell into firing position, bringing down the Dilgar craft.

He kept his finger on the trigger, engaging the two wingmen who were trailing his latest kill, crossing sideways and firing at the enemy craft head on with admirable accuracy, destroying both of them as he circled the cooling wreckage.

"Bill, come in Ghost Two." A voice raised him.

"Reading you." Hague replied, noting the area was temporarily free of fighters for him to be concerned about, just the battling titans of the Dilgar and Allied Warships who were too busy to notice his tiny fighter.

"Sir, the Commander has dropped off the board." The voice said, one of his wing mates. "He's… he's gone sir."

"He'll be back." Hague said. "No pilot in the Galaxy can top Sinclair, that's a fact. Clear?"

"Clear sir."

"We follow his instructions, hold close to the Nemesis and intercept missile armed Thoruns."

It was quite a small part of the battle, but an important one. Still, Hague couldn't help but be both awed and terrified by the magnitude of the destruction unfolding all around him. Scenes had found hard to imagine were just background now, the spectacle Death wove here was beyond anything the galaxy had seen before, with such massive and lethal ships blasting each other at point blank range, a necessity dictated by the efficiency of the Interceptor grids covering most Human ships.

There was a large number of wrecked ships choking space and making it more difficult for the heavy vessels to deal with each other, slowing the pace of the battle which tended to suit Earth Force, dragging the fast Dilgar ships down to a more manageable speed. The Allied ships had grouped together in mixed Taskforces and were now orientating themselves for a run against Balos once more.

Hague had found himself a little out of formation, the hard evasive actions forcing him to drift beyond his patrol sector around the Dreadnought Nemesis. With a nimble flick of the controls he lined himself back up and accelerated to the beacon on his sensor grid.

Between him and the ship was a vision of hell, of splitting ships and roaring inferno. A Nova was busy taking apart three Dilgar cruisers, a four hundred yard long shard of metal hanging from its side, part of the hull half cut away by a Dilgar strike shaking as the cannons fired time and again. The rear end of a Dilgar ship, less than a third of its mass, flew by with engines still burning at full throttle and obeying the last command of the crew who were no longer there.

Hague headed through at full speed, doing all he could to stay out of the line of fire as three knotted taskforces took on several Dilgar formations. The gunfire was intense enough to hide the black of space as Hague crossed close by, repeated salvos of plasma and laser fire tore up enemy ships while the Dilgar hit back with particle bolts and their own laser cannons.

A pair of much larger than usual laser cannons split the sky, coming from nowhere and crashing into the side of a Hyperion cruiser. The beams blasted away a line of material from the forwards hull, one of the strikes cutting deep into the heart of the ship in a shower of flying armour plates and rolling flame while the other sliced into the hangar deck.

With the supports weakened the front of the ship twisted under the attack, metal bending and snapping as supports failed and the forward hull began to slowly rise up, like a sea monster rearing its head through an ocean of fire. It slowly doubled over, the engines still driving the ship forward as the lasers cut out and the massively damaged cruiser fell out of control.

The source of the attack crossed by Hague's fighter, a menacing looking Sekhmet class warship illuminated by the flames of its most recent victim. It cruised past arrogantly, ignoring Hague as it began to turn to find a new target, seeking to engage the damaged Dreadnought. As it lined up it seemed to completely miss the slightly further away shape of the Nemesis at the end of Hague's path. The Nemesis however did not miss the Sekhmet.

A massively intense barrage reached out from the distant ship trapping the Dilgar heavy warship in a net of laser cannons tracking and sweeping as it crossed the Earth ships arcs. The shields glowed and crumbled under the attack, for all their efficiency they were no defence against such a massive concentration of firepower and within seconds the hull of the Sekhmet was being flayed from its bones, throwing millions of tons of debris into space as it was expertly incised by the Nemesis.

Hague saw the Nemesis stop firing as he dropped into position above and astern the warship, a fading glow in the distance telling him the Sekhmet was gone. As he surveyed the area he noted there were a lot more Dilgar wrecks than allied ones, but even so the number of ruined friendly vessels was quite a shock. It wasn't looking good, but he had his orders and he'd follow them until Earth Force won or until there were no more ships left to protect.

He rejoined the squadron, located a Dilgar Thorun wing, and without even a moments rest turned to engage.

EAS Hannibal

"Tighten up the wing groups, try and keep us together." Admiral Hamato passed his orders down the line, his frown the only indication that he was having to plan this battle in his head moments before delivering the orders. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than the alternative of letting Jha'dur make decisions for him. He had to giver her some credit, she had taken a massive risk, one which could have cost her the war in just thirty seconds by running her whole fleet into range of his Dreadnought line, but her suicide ships and sacrificial fighters had kept the Dilgar ships alive and fighting, and now they were giving his forces the battle of their lives.

His world was one of icons and coloured markers, not ships and lives. When a light blinked out it represented the loss of an asset, not the last seconds of three hundred men and women under his command, under his trust. He had to detach, had to be clinical. Shuffling units and numbers was much easier than putting people and faces into harms way, especially if he suspected the ships he had just deployed to take the brunt of a counter attack wouldn't survive past the next ten minutes.

"Vree strike wings are making a pass through sector nineteen." His Aide Commander Patel said with a cool voice, her every moment focused on just doing the job.

"We've got nothing in that area, tell them to use anti matter torpedoes."

"Aye sir."

"Burn down everything in the sector, then double back and reinforce Fifth fleet."

The icons shifted and moved, launching weapons represented by smaller glowing shapes that vanished among an assortment of red coloured symbols. An instant later they all vanished too. The change of display did little to convey the immense destruction the Vree had just unleashed, the titanic white immolations that had swept whole Pentacans out of existence in a heartbeat, sending thousands of living beings to an untimely death. It was just the way wars were thought, and as Supreme Commander of the Liberation Navy Hamato had his duty to fulfil.

"All ships have destination coordinates." Patel informed him. "Balos is set."

"Make all engines ahead full, batteries fire at will, central control." The Admiral ran down his list of orders. "Put us in orbit above the Hauser plain and establish a new perimeter there."

For the last stage of the battle the taskforces had been fighting independently or in small groups, now though they move din unison and with purpose. The great lines of ships were gone, but Hamato had still managed to draw his ships into a blocky formation that could focus a vast amount of fire on its forward quarter, sufficient to blast their way to Balos and vanquish the Dilgar once and for all.

The formation was fluid, moving at slightly different rates but keeping close enough to mutually support each other and trap any major Dilgar attack between them, unloading fire from all sides on the unfortunate enemy vessels.

Like Hamato Jha'dur's vision was one of three dimensional displays and icons, sweeping around a holographic representation of the battle zone and pinpointing what her ships were doing and what the allies seemed to be planning.

Unlike Hamato she did visualise the ships and lives on those ships, mentally calculating how many people died every time she opened her mouth to give an order. It was a running tally of the battle, a method of keeping score and working out the ratios. She knew how many people she could afford to lose and from where, she just needed to make sure her enemies were also dying at a favourable rate.

"He's moving on Balos again." She noted. "Watch this, they'll all fall into line."

She gazed at the images, An'jash also watching as instructed while the Allied warship groups, each seeming to fight their own battle suddenly fell into one unified formation with very little effort.

"See that Captain? They knew exactly where to deploy, even without central orders they were close enough to react and unite at once. That's a type of coordination that takes years to master."

"We have Forces between them and Balos, shall I order an assault?" An'jash checked.

"No, not yet." The Warmaster scrutinized the battle. "Focus on the flanks, lets try and clear out the Vree and Markab with our light ships and then pick off these taskforces one at a time."

The Dilgar fleet was still the largest force in action and still moved wherever they wished across the system, attacking and withdrawing as necessary to wear down the allied ranks. It was attrition on a massive scale, Jha'dur was wearing her way through the human ships by sending her own to their deaths, often deliberately, and to her satisfaction it seemed to be working.

"Alright Captain, Hamato has shown his intentions, he's going for Balos. We're going to make sure he never arrives. Concentrate on the flanks as ordered, then move inwards. That's a fleetwide order, all ships engage now. We don't turn and we don't run. Full attack."

Their precision was mixed, the older Dilgar ships realigning and moving to attack with the same grace and skill as the humans while the newer Dilgar ships were more eclectic. In the end it did not matter, every Dilgar ship able to fight or fly turned towards the allies and pressed their attack, running into a wall of gunfire as they did so. Casualties were immense, but that was nothing new and not unexpected. Crippled ships rammed their way past the nearest force, clearing a path in their final acts for the follow up units to exploit.

Earth Force held firm, but the ships that fell were weakening the fleet and as taskforces began to be consumed under the waves of green backed warships the advance on Balos slowed. Warships were forced to look to their own defence, then to aid their neighbours. Speed bled away, initiative began to be lost and the fleet slowly altered direction so it faced the Dilgar attack, not Balos.

"Our flanks are folding in." Patel shook her head. "The Dilgar are squeezing us on four sides!"

Hamato remained composed, the image of Balos before him on the screen. He might have been able to reach out and touch it, so close did it appear.

"Fourth fleet is requesting permission to engage enemy ships fully sir." Patel relayed with haste. "So is the Fifth sir, they are under heavy attack on all sides!"

"If we let ourselves get pinned down the Dilgar will swarm our forces."

"Admiral, our forward advance is slowing to a crawl." Patel showed. "We're already pinned in space, we can't advance, enemy forces are closing around us!"

All around the red icons outnumbered the blue and green ones, the unfeeling and unemotional maps echoing the shouted and increasingly desperate reports of his divisional commanders. They were like tigers ensnared by pythons, in a clean fight a tiger would shred a python, but here the snakes were already entwined, coiling around his fleet and crushing it. It wasn't an even fight, he couldn't bring his best assets to bear. Jha'dur had him cold.

"Have we received anything from Balos?"

"Aye sir, we're in contact with General Biek."

"Contract the flanks, defensive stations." Hamato ordered. "And stand by all ships to jump."

Patel looked at him with a gaze that said it all, a mix of emotions written on her brow, but the chief of which was shame and disappointment.

"You heard the order. Prepare to jump."

He waited until his aide set about her task, then opened the line to his opposite number on the ground.

"This is Hannibal, come in Archangel."

"Receiving your signal." A scratchy male voice stated.

"Archangel, is your position still secure?"

"Confirmed, we're heavily fortified here, we can hod any attack while you bring in reinforcements."

Hamato grimaced, bad news was never easy to deliver, but the scale of this news was something else.

"General, I can't break through."

The line was quiet for a long moment, until the voice returned. "Understood."

"The enemy strength is too great, they surprised us, surprised me. We're out of formation, out of position and surrounded."

"I hear you Admiral."

"If there was any hope of getting through, I would take it." Hamato swore. "But there isn't, and I can't lose this fleet. If we fall, the war is over."

"But if we fall, the war may go on." Biek said dispassionately. "Just a question of sacrificing some, and saving others. Assets."

"Understand General, this is not the end, I am not abandoning you."

"In your position I'd do the same thing. The fleet is vital. You must save it."

"This is not the end General, tell your people we're coming back. I promise."

"They know." Biek confirmed. "We'll hold these tunnels for as long as it takes. Good luck sir, God go with you."

"We'll be back." Hamato said, no longer able to keep himself restrained as the entire campaign fell apart around. "By all I hold good and true I swear I'm coming back to get you!"

"We'll be here, that's an oath too." Biek replied. "Archangel signing off."

The signal ended, leaving Hamato at a loss for words.

"Jump engines primed sir." Patel spoke peacefully, the bridge eerily silent for the midst of such a fight, every ear waiting foer his word.

Admiral Hamato rose his chin, eyes on balance. "This isn't the last time we'll see that world, I promise each and every one of you that."

Patel nodded at the statement, accepting it as fact despite the bitterness of this battle. The Dilgar had lured them in, baited them with the lives on the planet, then sprung a most cruel trap. Now they were retreating and leaving the system sown with the dead.

"Initiate jump." Hamato said, his eyes actually filling. "Fleetwide withdrawal, collapse back by squadron, it's over."

As one the human and League ships suddenly broke away and began to leave, the jump points forming amid the wrecks and duelling opponents. Sometimes they would smash floating debris to noting, once or twice they even annihilated Dilgar ships so close was the battle. The Dreadnoughs and cruisers laid down blanket fire for the non-jump capable ships and fighters to escape before finally following them through, shooting right up until the vortexes closed.

A few Dilgar ships tried to follow them through, and three actually made it but trapped and isolated amid the still lethal human fleet they died very quickly. The battle which had raged so fiercely for so long ended in under two minutes, and as they left space turned very quiet, very cold and very empty. Lights faded, the chatter of communication fell silent, and the Dilgar stood still as masters of Balos.

"They left, they just left." An'jash said in disbelief. "What happened?"

"What we thought would happen." Jha'dur answered. "We won."

"The allied ships are gone, I have three Markab cruisers on scopes, wait…"

Jha'dur checked the displays, quickly locating the three ships. These Markab did not retreat and instead, ruled by the concept of death before dishonour slammed into three Dilgar warships that were too ecstatic at the victory to notice them in time. Jha'dur smiled faintly, another example of the genepool weeding itself out.

"Telemetry from Hyperspace beacons Warmaster." The sensor officer reported. "Earth ships are retreating to Comac."

"Oh that's good." Jha'dur chuckled. "He's going to be pissed when he sees what I've done to his little starbase."

"System is clear Warmaster, all is secure." An'jash couldn't help but break into a laugh. "We did it! We beat Earth Force!"

"We did." The Warmaster allowed the laughs to turn into cheers. "We met their main strength, and we sent them home in defeat."

The cost of course was high, her fleet was a shadow of its former self, but it didn't matter. The humans were gone, the job was down, they had not died in vain.

"Captain, remember I told you not to celebrate until we were certain of victory?"

An'jash at once calmed down, her grin replaced by a silence. "Apologies Warmaster."

Jha'dur broke back out into a wide smile. "Now is the time, break out the wine Captain, all off duty crews are hereby ordered to enjoy themselves!"

There was a round of cheers across the bridge, something Jha'dur joined in willingly with, her spirit free and relieved of worry.

"Remember this day Captain!" She announced. "We just won the war!"

Balos

"Paul!"

Jenny skidded in a scree of stones beside her fallen fiance, the scruffy haired man gazing up at the ceiling of the cavern.

"Weird." He said. "I just came over all dizzy." He leaned up and at once had to lay back down. "Ah crap, that was a mistake."

"J-just lay there, don't move." She demanded. "Dom!"

"I'll be right there," The young man said. "I just need to…"

"Dom!" She screamed with such force and power everything went deadly quiet. "I mean now!"

Without delay he rushed forward, leaving Garibaldi to tend to Francis alone, the Sergeant working fast so he could see to this new situation.

"What is it?"

"I don't know." She said frantically. "Paul, listen, what do you feel like?"

"Like dizzy." He said. "Just came on real sudden."

Dom checked him quickly. "No blood loss, no wounds… wait." He touched the torn shirt and the slight cut underneath. "Where is this from?"

"That Spectre, grazed me when he tried to finish me and Francis."

Dom gave it a close look, then swalowed. His words failing in his throat.

"What?" Jenny said, and the young man just gave her a terrified look. She lashed out and grabbed him by the collar and dragged him closer, then lowered her voice. "What?"

"The…the Spectre." Dom forced himself to speak, his voice no more than a squeak. "They use poisoned blades."

Jenny's fingers went instantly numb, releasing their grip as she fell onto her haunches, eyes turning blank.

"I…I'm sorry…I…"

"Antidote." She whispered.

"I don't even know what is…"

"The general antidote, in your med kit." She didn't even look at him, her whole figure shaking slightly in utter disbelief. "Inject him. Now."

Part of the Earth Force medical kit was a concoction of drugs designed to fight biological agents, normally they were given before landings and proved effective against most diseases, both natural and artificial. Earth was lucky in having a truly excellent medical science knowledge especially for such a new race, but the Dilgar were far beyond humanity in this field.

He took the metal syringe out from the kit, his hand shaking as he primed it, knowing that this was a pretty slim hope.

"Dom." Jenny looked up at him with such intensity that anything she said was going to be the utter truth. "Mess up and you're going to die."

He took the pressure and held the long needle over Paul's heart, it had to go straight through the chest and so couldn't be in hypospray form, it had to be like this. He kept swearing over and over in his mind, this was just so wrong, but he forced his muscles to tense and with a strong downward motion speared Paul and triggered the serum.

The man arched his back and took a sharp breath in, his muscles curling and tightening as the drugs sent his systems into overdrive. Jenny was also gasping, her hands clutched over her mouth as she watched the grotesque dance. Then he dropped back flat, still breathing short draughts as his heart rate soared.

Dom was shaking again as he stood and backed off, amazed by what he had just done and not accepting it as real.

"Hey, Dom!" Garibaldi shouted. "Stop loitering and get here!"

He bolted, leaving the two lovers together.

"That…was intense." Paul allowed. "He stabbed me in the heart didn't he?"

"Yes." Jenny snuffled a little. "But I remember you said it was mine now, so I guess I can do what I like with my property."

"You always could." Paul smiled. "Didn't work though."

"What do you mean?"

"I can still feel it." He said calmly. "These Dilgar know a good virus when they make one."

"No, no it did work." Jenny said quickly. "Look, you're breathing and…"

"I can feel it." He repeated more forcefully. "What is up with Francis, he going to make it?"

"I…think so… but look, we have to get you out of here."

"Just as long as he makes it, that's what I wanted." Paul smiled. "Yeah, that'll be a good note to end on."

Jenny grabbed his shirt, her eyes heavy with emotion. "Stop talking like that!" She demanded. "You don't want to push me over the edge like this!"

"I played a hero, but I'm not cut out for it." He said quietly. "I wasn't meant to fight these guys and win."

"You did win!" She growled at him. "You won, you're still here!"

"Nah, but Balos is a good place. Good people. I don't mind being buried here."

"Stop talking like that!"

"Come closer." He gestured, and jenny lowered her head, her breathing growing more and more ragged. "You know you were the one right? No one else I've ever known had what you've got."

Her breathing grew even less steady.

"Live a good life, you got that?"

"Just shut up!" She demanded. "We have to go, we have to…"

"Just listen!" He hissed. "Don't get hung up on this! Move on!"

"That is never going to happen!" She shot back. "You aren't going to die on me, that's just… selfish!"

He smiled widely. "You know me so well!"

"Dom!" She shouted back over her shoulder. "I need more antidote!"

"Hey." Paul looked up. "My one regret is that I can't kiss you right now, because I don't want to pass this on."

"You can't die! Not here! Not now!" Jenny sobbed. "I need you!"

"You're going to be fine." Paul winced. "I'm going to have to leave now."

"The hell you are!"

"Just remember you will always be the one I love, always." Paul said with a sincere smile. "I'll miss you."

"No!"

He grabbed her arm. "And don't you dare think about following me!"

"Paul, you can't…"

"You'll live!" He grunted, the pain of the Dilgar potion working now on him. "Promise me!"

"I can't lose you!" Jenny shouted, drawing both Dom and Garibaldi to look their way. "I can't!"

"Promise me!" Paul demanded. "Swear it on all we had!"

"You…"

"Swear it!"

She broke down in tears. "I promise." She touched his hand to her forehead. "I promise it!"

"I love you more than life." He said simply. "Now get away." He snarled through his teeth. "You don't need to see this, go!"

He suddenly convulsed in a spasm of pain, hands clawing at thin air as Jenny fell back in a flood of tears, utterly unable to do anything more rational.

"Hey!" Garibaldi leapt up "What is it? What's happening?"

Paul called out in agony, the two soldiers quickly tending to him.

"Dilgar poison!" Dom relayed in panic. "We didn't stop it!"

"Tranq, now!" Garibaldi demanded, and the young man injected the civilian.

"That's a double dose!"

Paul stopped writhing for a moment, his eyes shifting quickly around his head.

"Paul, buddy!" Garibaldi checked his pupils for a response. "Listen, I'm going to really drug you up, and then we're going to the field surgery, not far from here."

He couldn't tell if he's heard him or not, but with a groan he began to twist again.

"What happened to the dose Dom?" Garibaldi yelled in frustration.

"It was a double shot!" He replied.

Paul started writhing again, the veins on his neck stretching as his muscles pulled hard, forcing Garibaldi to hold him down.

"Get another shot!"

"It might kill him!"

"Just bloody do it!"

The man cried out again, legs kicking as the vile toxin worked its way through him, one more triumph of Lab Nine and the research of Jha'dur.

"Okay, done" Dom tossed aside the empty tranq, the mixture having no effect.

"Come on man!" Garibaldi pressed him down to stop his friend banging his head on the rocks in his convulsion. "Don't do this!"

He had to put a lot of weight into holding him down. Dom quickly joined him, and even with the two of them holding him down it still took huge effort.

"Don't give up! Fight it!" Garibaldi shouted at his friend, the man who had saved his life on Tirrith. "Fight it!"

There was a gun shot, the path of the bullet close enough to tug on Garibaldi's clothing, and Paul stopped moving. He looked across to see Jenny stood there, smoking Colt in her hand and rivers of tears streaking her face.

The Sergeant just looked at her incredulous, taking his hands off the now dead body of his old friend. He stood in horror, backing away from the scene, mouth moving but not able to speak.

Dome spoke for him.

"What did you do?" he screeched at the woman. "What the hell did you just do?"

"I couldn't let him suffer." Jenny said in peaceful, even tones, the gun still at arms length. "It was a Dilgar virus."

"You shot him!"

She snapped her head round. "It was a Dilgar virus!" She roared in unrestrained grief and anger. "You know what they are like? Have you seen what they do to people? Have you?"

Dom physically shrank back.

"I saved him from that!" Jenny bellowed. "I saved him!"

"Jenny." Garibaldi managed to speak in a small voice. "Jenny. Give me the gun."

"I couldn't leave him like that!" She sobbed harshly, the sight of it, the sight of such a strong person so badly broken ripping at Garibaldi's insides. "I couldn't do it!"

"I know, I do." He reached out his hand, noting the hand gun she held had been one of Paul's collection. "Come on, come to me."

"I had to!" She wept.

"I know."

"This isn't how it's meant to happen!" She continued. "We were getting married!"

"Come on, I know." He stepped closer.

"I loved him!" She exclaimed through tears. "Now what? Now what do I do?"

"Please, come to me."

"What's left." She looked down at her fiance, put the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger.

Garibaldi leapt forward, too focused to be relieved when the hammer fell on an empty chamber. He grabbed Jenny as she dropped the empty gun and fell into his arms, completely giving up and descending into complete despair. He couldn't blame her, couldn't imagine what she was feeling, so he just held her. He had nothing he could say, no words to give, so he let her be.

The fighting had long since faded, and now the only sound was that of a broken heart and a lost future.


	89. Chapter 89

87

Balos

The palm computer finished its cycle and flashed up the report, negative contact. Commander Sinclair swore beneath his breath, looking around to see nothing but rocks and sand shining in the intensely bright midday sun. He leaned back in the shade of the narrow cave, one of millions of such cock formations scattered across the dry and arid plains his fighter had come down in, and bided stayed out of the worst of the heat.

He'd been on the surface for three days now ever since the Dilgar Ace had forced him so low into the atmosphere that his Fury couldn't escape again. He'd decided to take the Dilgar pilot down with him, but in what could only have been a little divine intervention Sinclair had actually held conscious long enough to eject, the front of his fighter separating and floating serenely down to the ground. Unfortunately it touched down in the middle of a desert, a very large and very empty desert.

All pilots were trained in basic survival and evasion techniques. When he awoke it was already getting dark, so he quickly exited his cockpit, leaving his helmet and apparatus behind and taking off to avoid the enemy tracking him. Ideally he would have preferred to stay close to the remains of his Starfury to make it easier for rescue teams to spot him, but in enemy territory that sort of thinking led to capture and in the case of the Dilgar a very unpleasant death.

Sinclair had taken his survival kit, a pack filled with water, food, nutrient pills and stims designed to keep him up and running for about a week and give him a fighting chance in any environment. The two most important items he took with him were a PPG pistol at his waist, and a long range communicator set to broadcast on the standard emergency frequency.

He had seen no other sign of life in the past three days, not even a fly over by an enemy aircraft. By the time he had woken up the battle in orbit was over, the sky blank. Owing to the lack of EA transmissions he guessed Hamato had failed to secure orbit and had retreated, or worse been cut off and annihilated entirely by Jha'dur. Earth Force was utterly committed to the people under its command, right to the point of mounting rescue missions deep into enemy territory to recover lost pilots and isolated special forces teams. Sinclair had participated in a few such missions into Narn space, providing fighter cover while the Search and Rescue teams picked up the beleaguered teams in space or even on a planet's surface.

The SAR pilots were real hotshots, even cockier and confident than a Starfury rider. They had a right to be, their skills were legendary and their nerve unquestioned. Sinclair was willing to take risks in battle because he had a supremely agile warplane and a brace of plasma cannons to get him out of trouble, SAR pilots had only their wits and a tuned assault shuttle to trust their lives to.

They were daredevils, but even the SAR teams had their limits, and the fact that he hadn't seen one even try to find him meant that the Dilgar presence in orbit was still too tight to risk getting even one ship through. The greatest unwritten rule of Earth Force was that they did not abandon their people. It was drilled into every serving member from day one of their training and repeated until they retired. Sinclair knew from personal experience that the Admiralty would move mountains to save just one life, send in a whole task force and spend millions on fuel and munitions just for one man, because it was what they did and it assured those soldiers and crew trapped and isolated that they were never truly alone, and that help was coming no matter what.

That knowledge kept people alive, it gave them hope and kept them fighting. That one belief did more for survival than a month of Ranger training, help was coming, you just had to do all you could to make sure you were still alive and free when they arrived.

No one had come for him, or the quarter million other people on Balos waiting for rescue. Hamato had tried, and he had failed, now everything was uncertain and wavering.

Sinclair however was not out of options. There may not be help coming from above, but there was still a lot of potential help dug in under the ground, and after the first day he had decided his best hope of survival was to link up with the army somehow and wait with them for the fleet to break through.

The problem he faced was finding the army, and before today he would never have believed you could do such a thorough job hiding a quarter of a million men and women in the middle of a desert planet. Normally the army would have left behind markers, small beacons to let stragglers know where they had retreated to so they could follow, but with such a heavy Dilgar presence he assumed that hadn't happened here.

His search for beacons had revealed nothing, and with so many tunnels he could wander for days without finding any sign of the army, by which time his food and water would have run out. He needed to take more direct action, despite the risks.

"To all Earth units." Sinclair clicked on his radio. "Penguin calling, I say again, Penguin calling."

Penguin was the call sign for any downed pilot calling for help, a flightless bird. The army had invented that particular call sign and were no doubt deeply amused at the moniker they forced their far more glamorous cousins in the fighter corps to endure.

"Penguin calling, receive, over." He repeated to no avail.

While the message was encoded and it was unlikely the Dilgar could hear his words, they could triangulate the source of the message and find his location which made actively broadcasting a message a big gamble to take. Sinclair had no choice, he was out of options and needed to make contact with someone. When he decided to try one more time before leaving for a new hiding spot, just case company of an unwelcome kind was heading for his location.

"This is Penguin to any Earth Force unit, please respond." He heard nothing but static. "Anyone?"

He gave it a few seconds, then gave up and put the radio down, gathering his gear for a dash through the sun when suddenly the device crackled into life.

"Penguin, are you still on this frequency, over?"

At once Sinclair scrambled for the transmitter.

"This is Penguin! I'm still here, over!"

"Good to catch you, you are talking to an Earth infantry patrol, call sign Crowbar, over."

"Roger that Crowbar, you have no idea how good it is to hear a friendly voice."

"Likewise pilot." The man at the other end of the signal said. "We're triangulating your position, standby."

Sinclair grinned madly to himself, overjoyed to finally have some human contact in the wide desert.

"Okay Penguin, we have your position." The voice returned. "But first, who lost the 2230 All Worlds series?"

"You mean who did the Red Sox beat?" Sinclair asked. "The Dodgers, fourteen to eight."

"Yeah, that's it." The army voice confirmed. "Lousy Dodgers."

"You had money on them huh?"

"One of these days I'll learn they just plain suck." The voice said with mockery. "Anyway, guess that proves your human. Can you see a gully to the north of your position?"

Sinclair peered out of his tunnel entrance. "I see it."

"Make your way down there, it's a good defensive position in case someone else has been eaves dropping on us."

"Confirmed Crowbar, look forward to meeting you face to face."

"Be there in five minutes, over and out."

The Pilot quickly gathered his gear and without further delay left cover and made his way to the redezvous.

"Real guy then?" Corporal Harlow asked, her voice betraying a hint of distrust.

"Sounds like." Garibaldi nodded. "But we're meeting in the gully just in case. Take your squad up on the high ground to the west, set up a kill zone, just in case."

"Just in case." She nodded, then set off and waved over her people.

"Tucker!" Garibaldi gestured. "With me, lets go find our feathered friend."

Garibaldi was in a foul mood, the usual banter that accompanied Red Platoon was notably absent, replaced by a grim silence as the Sergeant glowered his way through the patrol begging for something to kill. The Platoon was aware the Sarge had lost a good friend, and those who had been with him on Tirrith owed their survival to Paul Calendar and the daring escape he had made possible. It had badly affected the mood of the whole unit and even new guys like Dom felt the loss keenly.

They proceeded quickly and quietly, passing over the ground in a loose formation, stopping and covering each other before darting on from cover to cover, always aware of the environment around them and looking for a potential ambush. If they really had found a pilot out here it would serve to raise their spirits a little, give them something positive and worth while to celebrate which would be very welcome. If it was a trick then it gave them a chance to shoot some Dilgar, and for Garibaldi at least that would prove to be even more fulfilling.

While half the unit took up covering positions garibaldi took the rest into the gully, deploying them in pairs on either side of the long depression in the ground as he walked straight down the middle, rifle at the ready. He made it to the centre of the gully where the formation widened out, and there he paused, an unexpected scene grabbing his eye.

In the middle of the gully was the front half of a Thorun Dartfighter, a long groove cut into the flat ground on one side of the gully indicating it had come down in the desert and skidded to a stop in here. More interesting was the fact the aircraft was empty, its canopy open, but beside stretching between the engine and the bent nosecone was a fabric awning tied at both ends to provide shade, and under it came the smell of food cooking.

Very quietly Garibaldi stalked his way around the front of the fighter, his rifle trained on the craft. Behind and beside him the rest of Tucker's squad spread out to provide cover while Harlow deployed in the rocks above, a dozen weapons all training on the crash site. As he crept round Garibaldi saw a figure laying under the shade of the stretched fabric, a man in a Dilgar uniform, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. It was a sleeping Dilgar officer, probably the pilot of this craft catching some rest while he waited for rescue.

The Sergeant stepped closer, kicking aside an ornate side arm and leaving the sleeping enemy defenceless. He reached up, slowly unhooked the fabric shade, then ripped it away exposing the pilot to the Balosian sun.

"Wakey wakey Kitty!" He roared at the slumbering alien. "Get up so I can shoot you like a man!"

The pilot awoke with a start, gasping as he saw the thicket of guns pointing at him. Garibaldi slung his rifle over his shoulder and with both hands grabbed the Dilgar, hauling him to his feet.

"How's this for a wake up call?" he asked, then kneed the pilot in his stomach, doubling him over. "Stand up straight you kitty bastard, come on!"

Garibaldi tugged him up, brushing off the uniform and noticing a crude splint on the right arm of the Dilgar pilot.

"Looks like one of our boys or girls already started the job huh?" He grabbed the arm, pulling him around and causing pain for the Dilgar. "Guess it's up to us to finish it."

He pushed the pilot to Bugs, who caught him and kicked him at the back of the legs, forcing the Dilgar down to his knees. The Earth Force soldier then stood back, leaving the pilot on is knees in the sand alone, just Garibaldi standing in front of him.

"This is your lucky day Kitty." Garibaldi armed his rifle and pointed it at the pilot. "If we were Balosian we'd be skinning you alive for trophies. Least it'll be quick for you, not like your victims."

He raised his rifle.

"Paul was worth fifty of you bastards. Just forty nine more to go."

"Stop!" A human voice shouted, echoing in the rocks. "Stand down right now!"

Garibaldi looked across and saw a grey and blue clad man skittering down into the gully, Dom rushing forward to identify him.

"It's the Penguin!" The young man called. "He was for real!"

"Commander David Sinclair, thirteenth tactical fighter squadron." He said angrily. "And I gave an order!"

Garibaldi slowly lowered his rifle, but Bugs kept his trained on the Dilgar who sat on the floor breathing heavily.

"Alfredo Garibaldi, Sergeant, Ninety ninth Airborne." He replied. "Welcome to civilization sir."

"Civilization?" Sinclair remarked. "Not what I'm seeing here Sergeant."

"Just doing me job sir." Garibaldi replied as Sinclair came closer, surveying the scene.

"Oh my…" Sinclair's eyes widened as he saw the wrecked Thorun, recognising it at once. "It's him." He turned to see the wounded pilot. "He made it!"

"Sir?"

"This is the Dilgar who brought me down." Sinclair informed. "I've been chasing him since the first day of the war, I finally caught him here, it almost killed me but I shot him down."

"You're a Fury pilot?" Dom asked. "I thought they weren't atmospheric?"

"They're not, that's why I'm stood here." Sinclair confirmed.

"This guy's pretty good then Commander?" Garibaldi asked.

"Best fighter pilot in the sky." Sinclair confirmed. "At least he was."

"And you shot him down?"

"I did."

"Then I apologise for my actions, I was wrong to put a gun to his head." Garibaldi safetied his rifle. "It's your right sir, you started it, you should finish it."

Sinclair looked over. "Excuse me Sergeant?"

"He's your kill sir. Finish him and we'll go home."

Sinclair looked back down at the pilot, at Ari'shan, his long time enemy. He had tried to kill him, almost died trying to kill him, and now he had the chance and nothing could stop him. He could end it right now forever, finish this man who had killed his friends and many other good human pilots. His life would be ended by Sinclair's own hand, and he would have the retribution he sought.

"No disrespect sir, but we should linger too long." Garibaldi mentioned.

The young pilot looked up, seeming small and frail in the bright sun and nowhere near as formidable as he had been behind the controls of a fighter. He was helpless no, no threat to anyone, but Sinclair could remember what he was like in battle. For all his skill and willingness to bring death to Earth Force, he had not revelled in slaughter, he had celebrated bravery. He didn't enjoy killing like so many others of his kind, he fought because it was his calling and attacked only opposing warriors. It was easy to pretend he was a bloodthirsty murderer like so many others of his race, but the truth was this man was a good man, and he did not deserve a gunshot to the head in the middle of nowhere.

"This is not happening Sergeant." He said flatly.

"If your sidearm is out of charge, use mine sir."

"I'm not going to shoot him, he's coming with us."

Garibaldi gave him a cold look. "With all due respect sir, are you mad?"

"Careful Sergeant, I'm not an army officer but I'm still an officer."

"This is a Dilgar sir." Garibaldi said. "They're murderers!"

"Not this one."

"They all are!" Garibaldi snapped. "We are out here hunting for a lone Dilgar agent, a man who has just killed a damn good friend of mine! We are here on this rock for one purpose, to kill scum bags like him!"

"This man is one of the most decent I have met." Sinclair defended. "He is the youngest son of the Dilgar leader! The Intel guys are going to be ecstatic we've brought him back!"

"I'm with the Penguin." Bugs said. "lets give him to the EIA."

"Shut up Bugs." Garibaldi snapped. "We waste him."

"Sarge, seriously." Bugs said more firmly. "Give him to the EIA, we got an agent waiting for someone like this."

Garibaldi raised an eyebrow as he caught on. "Give him to Jenny you mean?"

"Yes Sarge, I think Agent Sakai would appreciate some alone time with a Dilgar prisoner."

Garibaldi stepped back and calmed down rapidly. "You're smarter than you look Bugs."

"I hear that a lot Sarge."

He looked back at the Dilgar pilot. "Tie him. Hey buddy, you hear me?"

"He can speak English." Sinclair crouched down. "You understand us don't you?"

The Dilgar nodded.

"You remember who I am? David Sinclair."

"I know." Ari'shan said gratingly. "You, surprised me with that last move in the air, I didn't think a Fury could do that."

"Neither did I." Sinclair smiled. "You're my prisoner now."

"You should kill me, I lost, I don't have a right to live."

"I remember when I was escorting a damaged Fury home, you let me go, you didn't attack." Sinclair said. "That puzzled me for a long time, but I now know why you did it. You're more like one of us than one of them, a Knight of the skies in the classical sense. You don't belong here Ari, and you don't belong with your race."

"You defeated me, so I will do as you ask." Ari said quietly. "But I won't betray my people."

"Just come with me." Sinclair said. "That's all."

The Platoon began its journey home, taking Sinclair and Ari'shan with them. Dom pcked up a few of the pilot's possessions, including the ornate handgun.

"Nice weapon." The young man said. "In fact it's a lot like the one we picked up on Tiree."

"What did you say?" Ari looked over his shoulder.

"Eyes front kitty." Garibaldi ordered. "I can still break that other arm of yours."

"You've seen a weapon like that before?" Sinclair asked instead.

"Yeah, a Dilgar General had one, we think it was the guy who led the defence." Dom answered. "Kim'shan or Kem'shan, something like that. Intel guys said I should keep quiet about it, that he was related to someone big, a Warmaster I think."

"Supreme Warmaster." Garibaldi recalled, then frowned. "Hey Commander, didn't you say…"

"This pilot is the son of the Supreme Warmaster." Sinclair gave Ari a look.

"It is true." The Dilgar said. "Kem'shan was my brother, and my closest friend. The weapon you hold, there were only six ever made, only two are left in our hands now. My Father's, and the one he gave his prize student and closest advisor. Jha'dur."

"So I'm packing the same gun as the two biggest bad guys in the universe?" Dom asked. "Wow, I need to get a better price for it at auction."

"I thought you were giving it to the Earth Force museum?" Bugs piped in.

"That's before I knew it was worth something!" Dom countered. "I'm putting it on Ebay."

"Maybe our Dilgar buddy here can put a bid on?" Tucker chuckled. "Try and buy it back!"

Ari shook his head with dignity. "If you killed him it is yours by right, not mine."

"Yeah, I killed him." Dom said without bravado. "First man I ever shot."

"Did he die well?" The Dilgar asked pointedly.

"On his feet looking right at me." Dom confirmed. "He didn't beg or anything. Looked pretty quick."

The Dilgar pilot nodded quietly and walked on.

"What about this one?" Bugs asked. "Is it yours Sarge?"

Garibaldi shook his head. "I figure if it goes to the man who beat him, then the Commander should have it, if the Intel guys aren't interested."

Sinclair nodded. "It would be my honour."

"See, it's an honour." Garibaldi said. "He's not going to fence it for cash!"

"Well I owe you all drinks." Dom said. "All the times you guys have saved my butt, my round is going to cost a fortune!"

"Good priorities Dom." Garibaldi nodded. "Now, relieve Large on point."

The Platoon continued back towards the cave it was using, crossing around a ridge and looking out onto a large plain. Sinclair shaded his eyes from the glare rising from the ground, the patch of land a much stronger white than most of the sands. It took him a whole three minutes until he glanced at the bright plain again and saw the surface wasn't sand.

It was bones, bleached white bones piled thick for miles around.

The realisation hit him like a hard turn under full throttle in his fighter, crushing the air from his lungs and emptying his stomach. Sinclair was a career officer but in that moment he couldn't stop himself from doubling over a retching in pure horror and disgust.

"Come on Commander, take it easy." Garibaldi slapped him on the back. "Get it all out."

"What… what is…" Sinclair tried to ask.

"Balosians." Garibaldi answered plainly. "A million of them, ten million, hundred million maybe. Dumped here by the Dilgar."

Sinclair shook his head. "It makes no sense…?"

"Why did you think we were out here sir?" Garibaldi said in return. "Your new best friends Daddy ordered them dead, and his bestest gal pal gassed them. Those are the circles this guy moves in. Yeah he might act all nice and noble, but blood is blood Commander. Ten years from now, you think he'll be the same, or do you think he'll follow in daddy's footsteps?"

Sinclair looked to Ari, seeing a similar look of horror on his face, and beneath that shame.

"I don't know." He answered honestly. "But I don't think so. I've fought him, best way to know someone truly is to fight them, and it just isn't in his soul."

"Soul?" Garibaldi raised an eyebrow. "You sound like a priest."

"My best friend back home is a Jesuit Father." Sinclair shrugged. "Must have rubbed off. But I do think this man is different."

"Well its not up to us, we'll let the EIA decide." Garibaldi said. "We better keep going."

Shaken, Sinclair followed on, unable to look at the plain for the rest of the trip. From the cockpit of a Starfury it was hard to get a sense of what the war was really about. Now he knew.

Geneva

Earth

"I can remember this so vividly, this exact same picture in my mind. I remember you three stood there, I remember the sun filtering though the windows and showing up all the dust floating in my office. I remembered making a note to have the cleaner visit more often to deal with it, such a silly thought to have after the news you had given me. I remember the clock ticking, I remember the sound of my own breathing, and then I remember swearing to myself that never, ever again would we have a conversation like that."

President Hauser finished his musings.

"I swore that the defeat we took at Balos would not be repeated, and yet here we are in the exact same place, in the exact same conditions, and you are telling me the exact same news all over again."

"It has taken us some time to get the full picture Mr President." General Denisov stated evenly. "But the facts as we have them, are that we failed to break through the Dilgar line despite inflicting massive losses upon the enemy."

"So we failed, again?"

"In terms of our overall objectives, I'm afraid so Mr President."

He fell back into his chair, the leather backed item of furniture groaning as he sank into it.

"What went wrong this time?"

"The Dilgar resorted to suicide tactics, a purpose built ship that weathered our fire and collided with our larger vessels. They were packed with nuclear weapons and were able to destroy our most powerful units." He grunted. "And our forward base at Comac."

"We lost the Comac base?" Hauser looked up. "Are the Dilgar counterattacking?"

"No sir, it was just a raid, unfortunately a very well timed and successful one." Hauser admitted. "Though not as damaging as our earlier raid on Tirrith which destroyed…"

"General, I am well aware of past military successes. It does not wipe out the fact you have also suffered two major defeats in a row. What does losing the base mean?"

"It means Mr President, that in order to refuel and repair our ships must withdraw all the way to Brakir, and any offensive will have to travel two jumps to Balos, not one. That puts a strain our crews and ships, especially when they will have to fight a pitched battle after such a lengthy journey."

"We also lost a lot of material when the station went up." Director Durban added. "Hundreds of millions of credits worth of fuel and munitions, supplies allocated to feed the fleet for about a month. Replacing that amount of supplies is going to tax our reserves, took us three months to shift that stuff in the first place."

"Plus we have to take into account Belt Alliance fees, paying for the fuel off the transports moving the supplies out there again, the fact it takes two whole weeks for one of those rusty old freighters to get out there…" Secretary of State Brogan tailed off. "It's going to cost billions to replace what we lost, and that's not even counting the damn station!"

"We were unable to salvage most of Atlantis station." Durban informed regretfully. "It was heavily damaged by the nuclear strikes, shredded, and its stocks of ammunition and missiles for the fleet didn't help."

"The Belt Alliance has three more stations at Proxima in sections awaiting transport." Denisov informed. "They were assigned to Balos, Tirrith and Alaca to support an attack on Omelos itself, but I suggest using one of them to replace Atlantis."

"The problem is hauling it there." Brogan huffed. "We can get those slackers to tow it out there and bolt it together, but it takes a lot of manpower and a lot of ships to do. Ships we'd rather assign to taking out spare parts to the fleet."

"Mr President, it is the advise of the General Staff that we resupply the fleet at Brakir first, and build the station as our secondary priority." Denisov spoke. "If the fleet is left vulnerable it means the Dilgar can hit that station while it's being built anyway."

"I agree the fleet is our priority." Hauser nodded. "But what about Balos? What about our people?"

"We did have contact with the troops planetside." Durban related. "They are still alive and dug in, the Dilgar haven't launched a major offensive against them. Not yet."

"And even if they did our people are in an excellent defensive position, able to resist any attack." Denisov said. "But there is a time limit, again it comes down to supplies."

"Don't they have food and water?"

"Lots Mr President, enough to survive indefinitely. The problem is in terms of military supplies, arms and ammunition, replacement equipment and fuel cells. The Balosian infrastructure cannot support an army like ours, especially after the Dilgar caused such massive damage in their attack."

Hauser sighed. "How long can they last?"

"It depends on how hard the Dilgar hit them." Denisov said. "Our estimates, about two months."

"Beginning of October." Hauser worked out.

"By which time we will have a thousand brand new ships in service, two full balanced fleets." Denisov quickly pointed out. "We already have the crews for them."

"Our industry is on a full war footing, we're turning out weapons and supplies at a massive rate." Durban said. "The Dilgar aren't, their ship yards are empty. They are trying, and we do believe they have refineries and factories working around the clock, but it isn't on the same scale. Everyday makes them grow weaker, and we grow stronger."

"Militarily." Hauser made the clarification. "But we're losing support among the public, you've all seen the polls."

"This isn't unexpected Mr President." Director Durban allowed. "Once the euphoria of the early victories wore off and we started hitting core Dilgar worlds we knew losses would increase greatly."

"Doesn't stop the public losing faith." Hauser said. "Not when they start seeing body bags pile up and their neighbours tying black ribbons to trees."

He took a newspaper from his draw and dropped it on the desk.

"Universe Today, read the headline."

Durban craned his neck, seeing a full page picture of a heavily damaged cruiser limping into Brakiri orbit. the headline simply said 'Defeat' in large letters.

"How do we keep the people on board with a message like that? Public support is dwindling." The President stated.

"Which is exactly the effect the Dilgar wish." Durban said. "They know that in the long run we will win, so they are trying to break our morale, and sacrificing hundreds of thousands of their own soldiers to do it."

"It's all over ISN too, all the news channels." Hauser shook his head.

"We took a hit, but we can still win this if we keep some back bone." Denisov said with a hint of anger. "The fleet still has the strength to win, we're stretched and tired, but I guarantee you Mr President the Dilgar are at their breaking point."

"So are we General, our ships are damaged, crews exhausted and supply lines at their limits." Hauser motioned. "With the decrease in support from the public too, it's a convergence of bad news."

"They will break before we do sir." Denisov said firmly. "We just need to hit them one more time."

"Easier said than done General, our League allies are already calling for a halt in the offensive to regroup and gather their strength."

"If we pause now sir it will cost us our people on Balos."

"And if we lose them," Durban added. "It will be hard to motivate the public to support pressing the war when it seems clear the Dilgar are beaten."

"Are they beaten?" Hauser asked.

"They can't win, and there is no way they can threaten Earth or our holdings, not now." Durban agreed. "The problem is if we stop now, if we leave the Dilgar as they are, they will rebuild and threaten their neighbours again. Twenty, thirty, fifty years from now all this will happen again. We have to beat them thoroughly, change the regime, change their whole culture. We can do that only when we put ships in orbit and show them they have lost."

"On this matter Mr President, I have been speaking about a matter with many of my associates in the Senate." Brogan began.

"Speaking with?" Durban glared at his political rival. "Is that code for bribing and threatening them until they agree with you?"

He ignored the comment.

"There is, Mr President, a growing call for us to offer a truce with the Dilgar."

"Are you out of your mind!" Durban exploded. "Didn't you hear what I just said!"

"I heard some speculation." Brogan said back with a slight smile. "About a new Dilgar threat in fifty years. Where will we be in fifty years? I doubt the Dilgar will be able to threaten us."

"And the League?"

"Well, they can always ask for our help again." Brogan shrugged. "Though this time we should be more strict in the price of our help."

"You want to charge them for preventing genocide?" Durban snapped.

"I'd just like to see some gratitude." Brogan defended. "A little sharing of information, like gravity principles, electronic shields, antimatter systems. Little things we've earned!"

"I still can't believe the lows you can sink to!" Durban snarled. "We're not in this war to make a quick buck!"

"Fact is Mr President," Brogan directed his voice forward. "The Dilgar are no longer a threat to Earth interests, you heard that from all three of us. We are out there right now fighting for the League, a bunch who have given us nothing but hollow thanks in return for our blood!"

"The Dilgar are the biggest threat to peace in the whole galaxy! They killed billions!"

"But not humans!" Brogan countered. "We did what we set out to do, we saved our worlds from invasion and helped the Markab, who might not share technology but at least fight well and are fully open to trade. Better than nothing. Point is we don't have a reason to fight anymore. We should try dialogue."

"You, Mr Secretary, you were one of the biggest voices supporting a war this time last year." Durban accused. "You pushed for human involvement, why? So we could profit from it, gain in power and influence, achieve our manifest destiny! Now, now we have a real fight on our hands, you want to cut and run!"

"There is no need to waste more lives needlessly." Brogan said. "The Senate is preparing to discuss a truce."

"They want to debate it? In a time of war?" Denisov said in revulsion. "While my ships are still out there fighting and my soldiers are trapped!"

"Peace with the Dilgar isn't worth the thin air its written on." Durban shook his head. "You can't trust them."

"They fear us, they know we can beat them." Brogan said. "They won't betray us, they wouldn't dare, they know we can flatten them."

Hauser rubbed his chin, too tired to be angry, he just felt empty and drained. He had loved his job, but these recent weeks had all but crushed him. He was glad he would never need to stand for re-election.

"General, what is the military option?"

"Sir, Admiral Hamato is ready for a further attack."

"Because that went so well last time!" Brogan spluttered. "Mr President, listen to sense, let me…"

Hauser held his hand. "Let the General finish. Go on."

"We are launching raids and probes against Tirrith and Alaca to draw away the Dilgar garrison, and Admiral Ferguson and the Drazi will launch a full attack on Tithalis. All of this will be aimed at pulling Jha'dur's forces apart and weakening the Balosian line."

"And then you will attack?"

"Yes Mr President, in early October once we have replace l osses."

"A long wait."

"We can go earlier, but it would mean drawing forces from the First and Second fleets, the ships tasked with guarding Earth and our colonies from Alien aggression while our main strength is elsewhere."

"I would prefer to avoid that." Hauser said. "Are the mothballed ships active?"

"Yes sir, about a thousand older vessels are back in service. We retired them when our current fleet expanded to replace them."

"How are they fairing?"

"Useful patrol ships, they can handle Raiders and border skirmishes." Denisov answered. "But we can't send them up against the Dilgar, it would be a massacre."

"Very well General, begin your preparations."

"Yes Mr President."

"And Secretary brogan, begin yours too."

"Mr President!" Director Durban exclaimed. "We cannot throw away our chance for a total victory!"

"I am aware of that." Hauser said. "Our military option is still my favoured choice. But if it fails, and despite the General's confidence there is every chance it might, we need a second option."

"I will see to it personally Mr President." Brogan nodded.

"And take the credit." Durban shook his head.

"Focus on your jobs gentlemen." Hauser intoned calmly. "Now go, build something from this second loss. We aren't finished yet, but we can't assume our fleets will always win. Go."

He remained slouched heavily in his chair as the men left and just closed his eyes, trying to feel something beyond the fear and emptiness which had gripped him since he heard the news. He would have accepted sadness, even anger, but nothing was forthcoming, just an empty dread that he had led his people to a massive defeat and sacrificed thousands of lives for nothing.

Dilgar Grand Fleet

Battlecruiser Vendetta

The senior officers were having a great time, enjoying the provision of fine alcohol as they lounged around the room and shared stories, laughing and bawling at the achievements of their peers and themselves. It was a warm atmosphere, something often at odds with the collection of officers and senior officials. They were indulging themselves, releasing their anxieties and frustrations after the great victory over Earth Force. It was a good time to be a Dilgar.

Jha'dur allowed their indulgence, watching with quiet amusement as the staggered back and forth between tables, eating and drinking while stewards and aides stood quietly at the perimeter of the room with their heads lowered. Most of the fleet was still at duty stations, one day Jha'dur would release them to celebrate themselves, but right now she still needed them sober and ready She wasn't entirely convinced that the celebrations were wholly justified.

"A toast Warmaster!" One of the drunken officers raised his glass, sloshing half of the contents to the floor. ""To your victory!"

Jha'dur calmly raised her glass and took a slight sip from it, remaining seated and out of the way. The officer went back to his revels with a wide grin and Jha'dur went back to thinking.

"Warmaster?"

She glanced across to see An'jash stood beside her, glas sin her own hand.

"Yes Captain?"

"Can I get you anything Warmaster?"

Jha'dur smiled. "We're off duty Captain, you don't need to fetch me anything."

"You don't seem to be enjoy yourself, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I expect you to speak freely Captain, that is why you are here." She waved at a chair. "Sit down."

The officer sat beside her.

"Tell me Captain, how many of these officers earned victory? I reviewed the records, several of them left the battle to their subordinates. Interest don't you think?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"I can trust the veterans of the home fleet, and the old Strike Fleets, but I find the newer officers are still too afraid to admit to me they can't handle command." She frowned. "Am I that terrifying?"

"In a word Warmaster, completely."

"What I want is honesty, there is no shame in finding yourself in a position you can't handle providing they admit it and are prepared to move on." Jha'dur said. "I don't kill people for making unavoidable mistakes, but I don't like being lied to. If they had just come to me and said they weren't ready for a fleet position, I'd have put them back in charge of a ship or base."

"Warmaster, what are you going to do?"

"If they won't admit they are not good enough, I will put them in the first wave of the next attack and see how they rise to the challenge."

"Very well Warmaster, I shall arrange the transfers on your orders."

"Not many of us left, the old brigade." Jha'dur considered. "The old fleets."

"No Warmaster."

"Most of the newly built fleets and ships are gone. Seven thousand Captain. Seven thousand."

"Yes Warmaster, those are the final casualty figures for the campaign." An'jash confirmed.

"We lost more in these two battles, than in the entire war up to that point." Jha'dur said quietly. "Defies belief doesn't it? Such carnage over one ball of rock, one small slice of the galaxy."

"But those deaths were not in vain Warmaster, we drove away Earth." An'jash said. "Our intelligence shows they are openly discussing a truce."

"The League won't like that, they want us dead." Jha'dur chuckled. "But they will do what Earth tells them, they're too scared of being abandoned. They need human money to rebuild, the Hauser Plan I've heard it called. Restructuring the League, sponsored by private corporations."

"Doesn't sound well thought out." An'jash frowned.

"It is devilishly clever." Jha'dur smiled. "Private companies put up the money, secure themselves in the League with favourable trade relations, and make an absolute fortune in the long term. Plus, because they are human companies, they pay tax to EarthGov which in turn becomes incredibly wealthy. When this is done, the humans are going to rule the galaxy, even the Centauri will have to fight hard to match that sort of business."

"Captain Sa'goth tells me the messages were encoded in a diplomatic broadcast, not openly announced." An'jash said. "But the code was easily broken, a very simple one."

"The humans wanted us to find it." Jha'dur grinned. "Very good. They won't openly ask for a truce, won't jeopardise future trade relations with the League by making nice with us, or for that matte rlook weak in the eyes of the Narn and Centauri by being the first to break. They want us to ask."

"A truce." An'jash considered. "It is probably as good as we could ask for in the circumstances."

"It is. Unless we change the circumstances." Jha'dur said. "That Captain is what concerns me. If we negotiate now we are in a very weak position, we have a good bargaining chip in the form of the humans on Balos, but we have not truly beaten them."

"With respect Warmaster, I thought we just had?"

Jha'dur shook her head. "We drove them off, but we didn't break their will. You have seen the reports, the human fleet is still in the field. It didn't retire to Altair or Orion, it is only at Brakir taking on stores and making repairs. They are still in the war, we didn't achieve a decisive victory."

"Which is why you are not celebrating." An'jash figured.

"You know me too well Captain." Jha'dur smiled. "Correct, I don't think we've won. To be certain we need to break that fleet, destroy the human field forces, then we can negotiate peace on our terms."

She drained her glass.

"What I wouldn't give for a full tank of fuel on every ship. I'd chase the humans to Brakir and hit them at their weakest, chase them right back to their borders and sow some terror across the League again, just like before! Then we can talk."

"Our fuel refineries are at full capacity Warmaster."

"I know." Jha'dur said. "That isn't the problem, how many tenders do we have?"

"Fleet tenders?" An'jash named.

"I'll tell you, at the start of the year we had two hundred and sixty nine. Now we have Nine. Just nine tenders to refuel Three Thousand ships here, not counting the fifteen hundred ships Dar'sen is holding Tithalis with. By the time we are ready, Earth Force will also be ready. No, we have to make them attack us, and soon, then finish them once and for all."

"How Warmaster?"

"By threatening the soldiers on Balos." Jha'dur said plainly. "No matter their current state, the fleet will try and save them. They will walk willingly into my guns, knowing I am waiting for them, and then we finish this decisively."

"If they come Warmaster."

"They will, I know they will." She smiled. "Earth Force won't disappoint me, they want one more battle too, they don't want to negotiate. One last great battle to decide the war. They'll be here, and we'll be waiting."

"Warmaster, on the subject of Balos." An'jash broached. "We have no word from the Spectre team."

"No surprise, they are under orders to remain hidden."

"And our scouts found Commander Ari'shans fighter. It was empty."

She raised her interest. "He survived?"

"We found tracks, Dilgar issue boots leading away." She sighed. "Surrounded by human boot prints."

Jha'dur set her jaw. "He was taken prisoner?"

"It seems so."

Jha'dur took in the news, slightly angry her surrogate brother had been captured, but more relieved he was alive. She had not truly doubted it, but the news was a great relief.

"Very good Captain, his release will be in our demands. I want you to set about salvaging fuel from the wrecks, human ships included. These Sekhmets can go decades between refuelling, credit to the Drakh on that one, but the rest of the fleet uses the same fusion reactors Earth does. See to it."

"Yes Warmaster."

"I don't think we're finished here. I think we have one more act to play out." Jha'dur smiled. "But for now, we have a victory, enjoy it. We will go back to war tomorrow morning. Have a good time Capatain, savour it. Eat drink and be merry."

She let the Captain depart with a nod.

"For who knows what the morrow brings?"

Balos

The Underdwellings.

Francis was glad to see that he was not blind, or alternately dead, as he opened his eyes and blinked the blurry sight before him into some resolution. From his vantage point he could see a green fabric roof high above, some suspended lighting, and a nutrient drip feeding into his arm. The memory of how he got here flooded back to him, reminding him of the personal disaster he had been part of. The flood of emotion drained his energy, and he shrunk in the bed, exhaling and shutting his eyes, wanting to go back into oblivion.

"Francis?" a gruff voice spoke. "Did you just blink then Agent?"

He forced himself to open his eyes again and focus, fixing on a man with hard features and cropped grey hair. It took a moment, but the name of General Biek soon presented itself.

"General, sir…"

"Stay still son." Biek ordered. "Going to be a few days until you'll be out of here, pretty nasty wound you took."

Francis recalled getting shot. "Oh yeah, that."

"Don't tell me you forgot you were shot Agent?"

"Actually sir, it was kind of forced out of my head, something else took its place. More important."

"Yes, I heard." Biek nodded. "I am sorry for your loss."

"Paul." Francis recalled bitterly. "He didn't…?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Biek shared some sympathy. "I know he was a friend of yours, not easy losing someone like that. Understand that I have been where you are Agent, life goes on for us. Remember that, we still have life, so don't waste it because your friend doesn't."

"Is he still here?"

"He was killed by a poison." Biek said. "Under standard procedure we had to, deal with the body to prevent further infections. It's a closed system down here Agent, we had to act decisively."

"You incinerated him."

"A plasma furnace." Biek confirmed. "I'm sorry Agent, but we can't take risks here for sentimentality."

"I understand General." Francis nodded, accepting it but hating it.

"We did sterilise his possessions, gave them to his girlfriend." Biek stated.

"Fiance sir."

"Yes." The General accepted. "I have patrols out looking for the last Spectre, but he seemed to have escaped. He can't get far."

"I know sir."

"I want you to rest now." Biek said. "You'll be up in about three days I'm told, wonders of modern medicine. When you are, I still need you to run communications for me."

"Isn't the fleet here sir?"

"Get some rest." He said again. "They'll be coming back, we'll be ready by then."

The General left, leaving the medical tent and passing a younger man in fatigues as he went, the young soldier giving the General an awestruck salute before entering the tent. Francis recognized hi at once as his old friend Dom and weakly raised a hand to guide him over.

"Francis! You woke up you lazy git!"

"Good to see you too Dom." The Agent grinned.

"Did they tell you I saved your life?" Dom enthused as he took a seat by the bed. "Well, the Sarge helped a little."

"I have a vague memory, yeah." He nodded. "Thanks Dom, I mean it."

"Well I'd only have to tell your folks if you expired." He shrugged. "And that means sitting down to dinner with them, and you know how embarrassing that gets."

"I remember." He smiled faintly, the memory of home touching him very deeply.

"You… errr, heard the news?"

"I heard."

"Sorry man." Dom said. "Really, he was a good guy, and he gave Kitty a real beating before he went."

"It's a lot more than that." Francis said. "Before we started fighting Paul was running behind enemy lines gathering data for months. He risked his life to give us details of enemy ships and tactics, and to expose what the Dilgar did to worlds they took."

"He did?" Dom said, clearly impressed. "Wow."

"That man probably did more to move Earth into the war than any other single human. And no one is ever going to know, because it's all classified beyond top secret." He paused. "Oh bollocks, I shouldn't have said any of that. It's the drugs."

"Your secrets are safe man, I mean who am I going to tell?" Dom smiled.

"I appreciate it." He slapped his friend's arm. "Glad your still here Dom."

"Got a bit hairy now and then, but I'm here." He said. "You've been out three days you know."

"Three days? Really?"

"Yeah." Dom agreed. "The fleet didn't break through, they had to withdraw."

"So we're still stuck here?"

"For a few more weeks at least."

Francis exhaled. "Well that's not good. What happened?"

"I don't know, but he might." Dom gestured at a man undergoing a quick check up on the bed next to him, sat up on the edge in a blue and grey flight suit.

"A fighter pilot?"

"Starfury pilot, we just brought him in." Dom said. "Along with a prisoner."

"A Dilgar Prisoner?"

"Sarge thought you might want a chat with him before he let's Jenny loose on him. That ain't gonna be pretty."

"He's right." Francis tried to sit up, a stab of pain running through his side and causing to grimace angrily. "Damn I hate being shot!"

"You need to stay down." The Nurse tending to Sinclair walked over. "We've put synthetic skin on and accelerated the regrowth, but its still raw and you need to stay still. Understood?"

"Yes Ma'am." Francis eased down.

"Good." The Nurse said firmly. "Okay Commander, apart from a few strains and bruises you'll be just fine."

She checked his bill of health, then set about other duties.

"Commander, you have a minute?"

Sinclair turned and stepped over. "Sure, Dom wasn't it?"

"Yes sir, this is my friend Francis, he's with the EIA."

"Glad to meet you." Sinclair nodded. "You alright?"

"Had a close encounter with the Dilgar version of our Agency." He smiled wanly. "He was a bit more direct."

"Looks like it."

"I'll be fine, can you tell me what happened up there?"

Sinclair nodded. "I missed the end of it, but the Dilgar jumped us with suicide ships. They broke our lines, and after that with their numerical superiority I guess it was just a matter of time before they overwhelmed us, and we weren't in a position to consolidate and fight back."

"Did we lose a lot of ships?"

"We did, but so did they. By my guess we were taking them down at least five to one."

"But they still drove us back?"

"Yeah, they did." Sinclair confirmed.

"So how did you end up here?"

Sinclair picked up the ornate Dilgar pistol. "I had a vendetta to finish."

Francis frowned at the pistol. "I've seen one of those before."

"I took one." Dom said. "Only six ever made."

"I mean elsewhere, I took it myself!" Francis searched his mind. "On that Sekhmet!"

"The what?" Dom frowned.

"The new Dilgar warships." Sinclair said. "I took this from a man called Ari'shan."

"Last son of the Supreme Warmaster!" Francis clicked. "I knew there was a connection, his older brother commanded that experimental ship!"

"This is one of those secret things isn't it?" Dom asked. "Because this is all new to me."

"Kind of." Francis agreed. "I need to speak with him, he's very close to Jha'dur, he could have an insight into her personality that could tip this war."

"I understand an EIA agent is already going to interrogate him, you should rest." Sinclair said.

"Jenny." Francis fell back. "Damn me but I completely forgot about her. How is she?"

"How do you think?" Dom shrugged. "She didn't speak for two days."

Francis shook his head in heavy sadness. "I can't imagine what it's like for her, Paul was my friend, but to her…"

"She's walking and talking again, but you can just see it in her eyes." Dom said with nervousness. "She's ready to snap again, and not grief this time, pure undiluted hate."

"We've got to find her, help me up."

"The nurse said you should lay down." Dom said. "She was really pretty, if you annoy her you might blow my chances!"

"Help me up, we need to get to the cell." He strained, gritting his teeth. "Where did she go?"

"She's been hanging with the Balosians." Dom said. "They've got pain to share I suppose."

"She'll go to the cell, we need to get there first."

"Is she the agent?" Sinclair asked. "The one who'll talk to Ari'shan."

"Yes." Francis confirmed. "But I doubt she'll say much."

"He's my prisoner, it's my responsibility to see he makes it to Earth." Sinclair said.

"If Jenny gets to him he's not going anywhere." Francis stated. "She just lost her Fiance to the Dilgar, only person she ever really connected with in her life. If she goes into that room, your prisoner is a dead man."

He swung his legs out and grabbed a cane from beside the bed, putting his weight on it but not really diminishing the pain.

"Is this a smart idea?" Dom asked.

Francis extracted the metal feed to the drip from his arm with a gasp, amazed at how long the steel tube in his arm had been. "I have to talk to him, he knows Jha'dur better than anyone alive."

"I mean is it smart to get in Jenny's way?" Dom clarified.

"She'll listen to me."

"Francis, listen man." His friend said. "She's changed."

"She recruited me, she's been my mentor, and she saved me plenty of times." He replied. "Now I'll save her."

"You didn't see her eyes Frank! She's stone cold in there! If you get in her way you might have two bloody great holes in your chest!"

"She won't hurt me."

"I keep telling you, she's not the same person!" Dom said. "You haven't seen this! I have Francis! I saw it on Tiree, I saw what loss and war does to people. Listen to me for a change Franky, this is something I know!"

He stopped. "Dom, I have to try. Not just for this Dilgar prisoner, but to try and bring her back. She needs a familiar face, more than anything she needs a friend."

"She's a killer Francis, if she goes for you I'm not going to be able to stop her in time."

Sinclair stepped in. "She's that good?"

"She's a field agent." Francis said. "Star pupil of the two best field agents in EIA history. She could kill all three of us before the first one hits the floor. And that's unarmed."

"Which is why you need to think this through!" Dom said.

"I have, I'm going." He said. "You coming?"

"I am." Sinclair said. "I gave my word."

They looked at Dom.

"Fine! But if she decides to fillet you I'm not getting involved!"

"I just need you to show me the way." Francis said, then stumbled a little. "And to pick me up if I fall on my face."

"Been doing that for fifteen years mate." Dom joked. "Alright, come on then, we got some time yet."

They slowly left the tent, avoiding the doctors and nurses, and headed through the encampment towards the makeshift cells, no more than steel cages chained to the floor. Unsurprisingly they hadn't seen much use with Dilgar preferring to fight to the death, Ari'shan was their only occupant.

Francis drew a few glances in his casual hospital wear, but most of the people in the camp were too busy to notice him, each had their own duties and responsibilities to attend to. It was frenetic activity, a means of keeping their minds on the job and not dwelling on the fact that they were still stuck alone on Balos with their chances of being rescued evaporating more with each passing day.

They arrived at the quiet corner of the massive cavern and were greeted by a guard.

"My name is Agent O'Leary." He provided his ID. "I'm here to speak with the prisoner."

The Guard looked at him. "I was expected the other Agent?"

"She'll be on her way." He agreed.

"Alright, you check out. Go on."

Francis and his comrades walked past, and in the enclosed space found the cage.

"Dom, get me a chair." Francis winced. "Chair, chair, chair!"

His friend provided a simple fold out seat which Francis gladly fell into, resting his body and fighting the pain.

"You are wounded?" The Dilgar spoke from his cage.

"One of your associates." Francis said in reply.

"Truthfully, there are few on my world I associate with." Ari'shan answered. "We have different opinions on the war should be fought."

Francis and Sinclair shared a look.

"Think what you will, but we are not all the same." Ari said in good English.

"However you do rub shoulders with the worst of them all." The Agent pointed out. "Deathwalker."

He nodded. "So you know much about who I am?"

"It's my job." Francis nodded. "Ari'shan of Omelos, formerly of the Knight Squadron, last seen commanding Dagger Squadron. Approximately twenty years old by Earth reckoning, maybe twenty one depending on the season on Omelos. Very young to have become so well known."

"I have some skill." He nodded.

"A natural pilot." Sinclair added. "If you had been human you'd have been in my squadron the day after graduation."

"An honoured company, the Ghost Riders."

"You are also quite knowledgeable." Francis noticed.

"Our military intelligence is not to be disregarded anymore, not since Len'char left."

"I was part of a meeting with him once." Francis said. "What happened to him?"

"Jha'dur sent him to hell." Ari said. "In a very real and literal sense."

"So much for small talk." Francis shrugged "I have some questions."

Ari'shan stiffened. "I will not betray my people."

"That isn't what I had in mind." Francis said. "We already know the usual stuff, ship numbers, disposition, strengths and all that. We've seen you in action, it's all documented."

"Then what do you want to ask?"

"I want to know about Jha'dur." Francis said. "I've studied her, listened to her speeches, watched her battles. She is a genius and a great warrior, so how does someone so smart become so cruel?"

"You want to know her life?"

"Everything that made her what she is."

"So you can picture her personality, how her mind works?" Ari asked. "And then plot her next move? No."

"In a few minutes my colleague will arrive, and she's going to want to kill you. I can stop her, but only if you help me."

"I have seen this, on a documentary." Ari'shan smiled. "Good cop, bad cop yes?"

"This is for real." Francis said. "She lost someone close and is looking for someone to take it out on. She knows you're here, she will kill you."

"I am ready for death."

"Not the sort of death she's got in mind."

"I thought humans were supposed to be better than us? That they do not torture?"

"You said it yourself, we're not all alike." Francis delivered. "Where was Jha'dur born?"

"I can't tell you."

"This isn't a game Ari'shan, not a trick. She will kill you."

"Better than betraying my race."

"Jha'dur is out of control, look at what she has done! It's all around you! Genocide, tens of billions of dead! Is that the person you want to protect?"

"She's like a sister to me."

"So help her by stopping her before she loses herself!"

Ari shook his head. "She's already gone, she's not the person I once knew and grew up with."

"So why…"

"Because she is still Jha'dur, and still my Warmaster, and I took an oath until death." Ari said firmly. "Until death."

"Earth has guaranteed the Dilgar race will not be exterminated."

"The League wants us dead."

"But Earth won't let them, and they need us a lot more than we need them." Francis said. "Your world will continue."

"Will it?" Ari considered. "Will it really?"

"Earth has promised. This isn't the end for Omelos, but you have to accept peace and stop fighting. The war has to end before you can move on. Help us end the war, and give your people a real future. That's what you want isn't it? What you fight for?"

"A future for my people." Ari nodded.

"So tell me, what is Jha'dur like?"

Ari stared at him evenly. "No."

He collapsed back and sighed, looking for a new course of action. As he did so he noticed a figure beside him and almost fell from his chair in shock, he hadn't received any indication she had arrived let alone had been stood beside him.

"Jenny…"

"You want to know about Jha'dur?" she said quietly, her voice alien.

"Well, yes, but I can handle it, you should…"

"I'll make him talk." She stated. "He won't shut up by the time I'm done. His tongue will be the last thing I cut out."

Francis swallowed his fear, fully aware the woman could kill him in a single strike. "Jenny, you need to let me handle this."

She looked down on him in his chair, her eyes heavy and distant. "Francis, don't tell me what to do. Ever."

"Jha;dur says the same thing." Ari'shan spoke. "Just before she usually kills someone."

"What a coincidence." Jenny looked up at him. "You're never going home."

"Jenny, please, we can learn a lot from him." Francis said.

"And we will." She said coldly. "I'll make him spill his guts," She smiled thinly, "one way or another."

"You don't want to do this."

"I want nothing more."

"You know that's not true."

"We live by lies." She shrugged. "This one will do for now."

Francis took a risk. "It won't bring him back."

With speed he didn't see coming Jenny backhanded him, tumbling backwards from his chair with a snarl of pain.

She looked at him with a glare of pure hatred for one long moment, and then it faded.

"Francis…"

"Stay back!" Dom said loudly, picking his friend up. "You alright?"

"I think I bust my patch." He touched his side, his fingers coming back red. "Yep. Fabulous."

"I didn't mean to." She said sincerely. "Believe me, I don't want to hurt you."

"I know Francis hobbled over. "I know, you aren't in control of yourself. I understand, of course I do, but you can't be here. You have to get a grip and find out where your life went, then go get it back."

"it's all gone Francis, I don't have anything left."

"Yes you do, you just have to find it." He assured. "For now just try to get off this rock. You aren't alone, you have me, and Chapel, and Durban, and you have your niece, remember? Catherine? You told me she looks up to you. What is she going to think if you go through with this.?"

"I do't know." She answered honestly.

"You can ask her yourself. Help me back to the field hospital first though, okay?"

"Okay."

Francis turned, but then paused. "Ari." He called. "Dal'shan died with honour, he fought his ship hard and died on his feet. He earned glory, and the human Captains who fought him paid him tribute."

Ari'shan stood up like a shot. "You were there?"

"I was, I stood right beside him as he died." Francis said. "You should know."

"Thank you." Ari said. "Truly. You told me this when you didn't have to, so I'll answer your question. What is Jha'dur like? She's a perfectionist."

Francis nodded, the words sinking in. "We'll send you to Earth until the war ends, then you can go home."

With Dom and Jenny on either side, the Agent was carried away leaving just Ari and Sinclair, the human pilot taking up a chair.

"So." Sinclair sat down. "How the hell did you get out of that shipyard over Tirrith, I almost had you cold!"

Ari smiled and sat back down. "It is a good story."

"We've got plenty of time."


	90. Chapter 90

88

Tithalis

Dilgar Fortress World.

The engines worked hard, throttling up and over their safe limits as near space raced past, purple ion spikes stabbing like ethereal lances from the rear of the craft, their bright glow caressing and warming the green curved hull and fang like winglets housing the crafts electronics. The pilot rolled slightly, the Dart fighters left engine rising up to avoid a still glowing piece of a comrade, then settled back onto his course, proceeding at maximum thrust through space.

The sleek warplane turned its nose a little, falling in alongside more of its colleagues converging from different directions and taking up formation around it, morphing and shimmering like a school of piranha flowing forward, set on their target.

Those targets were barely visible at this distance, a shining cloud of vapour where each droplet was a warship, grey or silver against the darkness moving slowly forward towards the planet. Those ships glimmered, lit by tiny flashes of light, blues, yellows, reds and oranges silent and almost insignificant in the vastness of space. Opposite them, equally nebulas was a second cloud closer to the planet, and it too flickered with the far away signs of a great battle, an exchange of heavy gunfire and nuclear missiles that seemed like toys, just the twinkling of a child's game.

The vista did not stay so distant and detached for long, growing in clarity as the converging fighters moved ever closer, long nuclear missiles strapped to their wings and cannons primed for close range engagements. The cloud turned into a swarm of dots, then into distinct individual ships, some lumbering and slow, others swift and nimble moving rapidly back and forth in tight formations. The attack wing lined up on one of the slower targets, a pale tiny bar of grey which grew with each second, forming into the bulky and awkward shape of an Earth Force Heavy Cruiser.

The other part of the battle that intensified was the defensive fire. In one second the fighters were ignored, in the next they were suddenly barraged by interceptors, a fence of blue and white fire which flashed past in blinding brightness, far too fast for any pilot to adequately react to. Several craft exploded, shattered pieces of metal spinning crazily in wisps of smoke before the vacuum extinguished them. An engine cut across the front of the pilot, the parent Thorun a haze of burning air. Alongside him another craft spun in a helix, the canopy smothered in flame by a glancing hit, and still the gunfire came, and more fighters died.

The pilot angled his attack, aiming to attack the cruiser from below where it could concentrate less firepower. The tower mounted guns swung and fired, twin slashes of blue plasma tracing the path of the incoming Dilgar craft and claiming a handful more. From nowhere an additional storm of blue fire crossed the wave of fighters, a Corvette slowly powering into position to aide the larger warship. Its own interceptor grid snapping around and gunning down he Thoruns as they passed, lethally fast and accurate in their job.

With a twist the pilot slid away, the interceptor grid of the corvette missing by inches. All around him his wingmates fell, cut down by the point defences as the two vessels interlocked their fields of fire, the targeting computers on the human ships linked together and firing automatically to create the optimum killzone. The pilot did not falter, navigating the tangle of interceptor shots and burning huskd of his fellow dart fighters, calmly arming his missiles and pulling up to point at the human cruiser, knowing that if he waited for a lock the interceptors would have time to track him and fire.

He dumb fired them, but at this range couldn't miss. The two nuclear missiles flew straight and true right to the cruiser, striking exactly in the centre of the ship where the hangar met the forward hull, the weak point all Dilgar pilots and gunners were trained to aim for. They hit, and then bounced straight off and spun away, failing to detonate. The mass produced nukes had, unknown to the pilot, been put together by Alacan slave labour and with quality control slipping in these desperate days the slaves had done an excellent job of sabotaging every missile they made.

It would cost the slaves their lives, but they had at least saved several allied ships.

The pilot banked away, but his luck had run out, and with no warning the fighter fell apart around him, the skin of the fuselage flayed off by a shrapnel burst from the Corvettes rail guns. He and four other pilots vanished in the metal storm, fuel and air mixing before igniting, taking the last of the attack with it.

"Admiral, the Rostam reports she was hit by nukes, negative detonation."

Donald Ferguson gave a sigh of relief. "That's the third one today, good news, but those bastards shouldn't be getting close enough in the first place."

"Aye sir, calling escorts in closer."

"Tighten the belt Commander, I don't want to be the first to find a live nuke."

The Earth Force fleet marshalled itself, learning from experience and pulling itself into a more defensive formation as it approached Tithalis, the swift Dilgar attacks pressing on the flanks while the main enemy force arrayed directly ahead. The attack had developed very quickly, growing from a planned reconnaissance in force up to a full blown fleet offensive.

Admiral Ferguson had very broad orders from command, to harass the Dilgar, pin them and prevent the ships of Warmaster Dar'sen from joining those of Jha'dur. To that end he had expected to mount a few raids, some probing attacks to keep the Dilgar on their feet and busy until Hamato broke through, then they would punch through the weakened Dilgar forces and link up with the allied forces heading in the other direction.

Unfortunately the defeat at Balos had changed that plan, Hamato needed to relieve some pressure on that front, to draw Dilgar attention away and make sure Jha'dur didn't use his moment of weakness as an excuse to scourge the League again. To that end Ferguson had been ordered to take any ships he had, preferably with Drazi support, and hit Tithalis hard.

Unfortunately Dar'sen knew exactly what was going to happen, he knew the attack would come, he knew what it's aim would be, and he was well prepared to meet it. The Dilgar fleet had been drilled and deployed expertly and met the mix of human and Drazi ships without hesitation. The forces were well balanced in terms of pure starship strength, but the addition of the formidable Tithalis defence network gave the Dilgar a clear advantage and a very strong defence to fall back upon if required.

"Admiral, fresh data coming through." Commander Griffin piped up. "Stro'kath is preparing to clear the right flank."

"Acknowledge that report, then standby for a course change." Ferguson nodded. "Alright then, let's see if this Dilgar Warmaster knows how to dance."

The Earth fleet was set up in task forces centred on a carrier and usually consisting of two or three Dreadnoughts and up to four heavy cruisers, with an assortment of smaller Frigates and Corvettes. Likewise the Dilgar had adopted loose independent formations capable of fighting alone or knitting together to support one another. While the Dilgar formations had speed, Earth had firepower and endurance.

It made for a very different battle than earlier engagements, gone now where the days when the two fleets lined up in rows of dull metal and battered each other until one side broke. The formal lines of battle had been replaced by smaller and more fluid Taskforces, putting the outcome of battles in the hands of more junior officer where superior training and officer selection would shine through. It had taken centuries for Naval powers on Earth to abandon the old line of battle, in space it had taken six months.

For the Dilgar it was a whole new way of war, for Earth Force it was just a question of switching emphasis from one set of tactics to another. While this did give humans an advantage, the ships under Dar'sen's control, and indeed the survivors of Jha'dur's fleets were the most battle hardened and experienced crews in the galaxy. A tough opponent for the still new stellar empire of humanity.

The Drazi on the other hand had the best of both worlds. Not only were Stro'kath's crews every bit as hardened as Dar'sen's, but they had trained for this kind of war. The Drazi character was that of a swift warrior, their ships were designed and honed over centuries to strike fast in small groups, to raid and slash their way across enemy fleets and to use speed and co-ordination to pick apart superior forces. Few Drazi had the discipline to pull off those tactics to perfection, but Stro'kath and his fleet did.

With a grace few believed the Drazi could muster, the warships of Stro'kath's guard swung around his human colleagues, rushin in perfect formation around the right side of the slower fleet and engaging the light Dilgar forces in the area. Green hulls met yellow particle beams as the Drazi hit home, flying hurriedly past the remains of their kills and breaking away, looping back the way they had come before coming into range of Dar'sen's main fleet.

"Check that formation." The Dilgar Warmaster said gruffly. "Strengthen our forward line."

"Drazi ships have cleared the human right flank." His aide Captain Ca'ra reported. "The human fleet is turning, they are shifting course to exploit the gap."

"Does this human think he can flank us?" Dar'sen frowned. "No, he's too slow… what is he trying to do here?"

"The humans are coming into range." Ca'ra reported.

"Open fire." Dar'sen ordered. "Their interceptors will be to effective to get much through this far away, but it gives the gunners something to focus on."

The main Dilgar fleet opened fire, but held it's position, watching the human and Drazi ships change course. The warships delivered a great spectacle of light, but as expected much of it was intercepted. A few moments later the Earth fleet opened up, their less advanced sensors meaning a lot of the fire simply missed but with such a volume filling the sky some was bound to hit.

"Loosen up and take evasive action, one quarter speed." Dar'sen said carefully. "Don't stray too far."

The two forces began to close again, at a very slow rate, but each second gave slightly less reaction time to avoid the steadily increasing fire from either side.

"Earth ships are powering up to full!" Ca'ra read the reports. "They're angling for the planet."

"He is trying to flank us." Dar'sen shook his head. "Get between us and the planet, that's suicide, he'll be walking into a cross fire."

"I heard the humans are desperate after Balos."

"Maybe, but not stupid." Dar'sen considered. "Alter course, come about and engage them head on."

"Yes sir, orders on the way."

"Be ready to take evasive action and break off at a moments notice, there is definitely more to this." The Warmaster watched the display like a hawk. "We'll draw them in, and see what happens."

"They're turning toward." To'mak said, squeezed into the gunnery chair of the Drazi cruiser Stormhawk. "Dilgar ships locking on."

"I knew he wouldn't pass up a challenge like this." Stro'kath grinned a crooked smile. "Attack by squadron, focus on flanks, leave the centre to Earth Force."

The two forces, allied and Dilgar closed at right angles. The humans continued to head at flank speed in one direction, their sides presented to the Dilgar fleet which pushed towards them. This was no disadvantage to Earth Force, its broadside fire was at least as effective as its forward arcs. The heavy guns swung out, maintaining their fire on the Dilgar fleet while the Drazi exercised their ships and set up for an attack run.

"Signal from human flagship Warleader." To'mak stated.

"Let me hear."

"Stro'kath, remember we just need to direct them in the right direction." Admiral Ferguson crackled. "Bring them on, but don't risk your fleet. Lots more for you guys to do yet."

"We shall do our part." Stro'kath affirmed. "Do not fear Admiral, I shall keep my warriors on their leash!"

"I'd have preferred to do this when we had more ships…"

"No fear my new friend." The Drazi said. "We will fight like razor beasts, our warriors will count for double, then we will outnumber the Dilgar!"

"Alright then, lets try give the boys and girls on Balos some breathing space."

"To success." Stro'kath agreed, then broke the channel.

"All ships in position." The Captain said.

"Then to war." Stro'kath leaned in his chair. "As it was meant to be."

The Drazi attacked with gusto at high speed, sweeping within a couple of miles, sometimes much less, and strafing their enemies. They were moving too fast to aim properly and had to perform a number of evasive twists, but their effects were felt at the edges of Dar'sen's fleet in the form of several ships losing power or exploding, and many more taking damage.

Two sunhawks were cut out of the sky, smashed in tumbling fire by bolt fire while more took scoring damage. Dar'sen's guns were optimized to pierce human armour, the Drazi proved no real challenge. More ships fell on both sides as the Dilgar pressed closer into range.

"Stro'kath is keeping them busy." Griffin reported. "But they are still coming."

"Course they are." Ferguson nodded, "He's keeping time with us, matching his steps to ours."

"Enemy ships are closing into optimal firing range."

"Well then, I think it's time to give our Dilgar friend what he wants." Ferguson rubbed his hands together. "He was a point blank battle, lets make it happen. All ships, turn ninety degrees, full over helm."

"Helm answering, coming about."

Ferguson could feel his stomach tugging as the ship turned under full power, the metal creaking a little as the armour flexed.

"Maintain flank speed." He ordered. "Let's ram Dar'sen's battle right down his throat."

In unison the Earth ships turned hard about, a slow and ponderous task for most of them but still a sight worthy of remembrance. The engines burned hard, straining in their mounts to shove the long vessels onto a new course, one that pointed them right at the middle of Dar'sen's warships. The gunfire intensified, this time the forward guns of the Earth fleet sweeping the path of the advance, the Drazi rushing by like predatory birds in another strafe, perfectly timed.

"That's more like it, play to your strengths Admiral." Warmaster Dar'sen chuckled. "He's leading with Dreadnoughts, he plans to hammer right through our line like a battering ram, smashing us up at point blank before we do the same to him."

"Sir, sixth Pentacan reporting heavy damage from human guns."

"He's using the Drazi to herd us into his guns, classic." Dar'sen nodded. "But no, I don't want to fight like this. All ships, alter course, raise bow forty degrees, all ahead flank!"

Nose to nose with the human ships Dar'sen gave way, having no desire to play chicken with a wedge of Nova Dreadnoughts. He took his ships up, over the human fleet exchanging fire all the way along.

"That's the way." Ferguson grinned, "Keep dancing."

"Enemy fleet is moving past us." Griffin said. "Tithalis dead ahead."

"Get a message to Stro'kath, tell him to keep Dar'sen busy for three more minutes."

"Yes sir."

"We'll finish the mission."

The human fleet did not turn or try to alter course and fight the swift Dilgar, instead they pressed on heading for the Planet and it's array of fortresses and satellites.

"What's he doing?" Dar'sen asked out loud. "Is he trying to take the planet while we're still active?"

"Drazi ships inbound!" Ca'ra warned.

"Take more than that to stop us." The Warmaster remarked coldly. "Bring us about, maintain flank speed, we'll catch up with the humans and catch them between the planet and our own cannons."

His fleet began a long turn, unable to throw themselves around too quickly due to their excessive speed. The Drazi strafed them, both sides losing ships, but Dar'sen held his course. It was now a race, Ferguson had a head start but Dar'sen was faster and as the circle closed he began to gain.

"Defence grid ahead." Griffen stated. "Powering up."

"I see it." The Admiral acknowledged. "Hold course and speed."

The human ships thundered at the planet, angled to cross low orbit and shoot past the gravity well with minimal affect, at their current speed it would barely snag them. The guns were another issue.

"Dilgar defence grid locking on!" Griffen warned. "She's armed and firing!"

The planetary defences spluttered into life, a vast network of satellites and stations raining their power at the Earth fleet.

"Corvettes forward, interceptors, now!"

Light human ships took the lead, nipping forward and engaging the incoming fire. It was dangerous work, and several were hit repeatedly and blown out of the sky, opening holes in the interceptor net that cost him two heavy cruisers, the majestic vessels falling apart in towering funnels of flame.

Each loss was painful, and to Ferguson avoidable. This was not a battle he wanted to fight, but he had to, the situation on Balos had to be relieved and he had to press the assault home.

"Forward fire intensifying!" Griffen barked. "And Dilgar ships closing astern!"

"Keep us on course."

The hull clanged as something struck it, the sound of the impact resonating through the halls.

"Damage to the port side power feeds!"

"Little longer!"

"We lost a corvette to Port, enemy fire is getting through!"

Ferguson counted a few more seconds, a bead of sweat running down his temple.

"Alright, now! Break and jump! Missiles away!"

The Earth fleet split as fast as it could, turning away and parting its front line. As the Dreadnoughts opened the gap hundreds of missiles rained through, launched from the Sagitarius class ships attached to the Sixth fleet. Ferguson had marshalled their strength, knowing he couldn't replace their ordnance out here, but the need was great and he was forced to use them sooner than expected.

The Earth ships opened their portals and flew through at high speed, vanishing into hyperspace as the nuclear tipped weapons swarmed the Dilgar defences. They had to be launched at close range, screened by the warships so they would make it into range without falling victim to the intense fire. The first ones exploded as the human jump points closed in a glimmer of white and orange, nuclear light expanding and then fading, leaving the roaring flames of ruptured satellites in their wake.

As if someone had flicked a switch the Drazi also broke away, initiating their own jump points, sometimes in the midst of the Dilgar fleet to add some injury to insult, before they too ran, something thought impossible for a Drazi before Stro'kath reformed the services.

"Enemy fleets have gone!" Ca'ra blinked. "Just gone."

"Very well played retreat under fire, very well executed indeed." Dar'sen complimented. "Look what this war has created. A disciplined Drazi fleet, and a human commander who fights a war of manoeuvre with giant flying bricks. Amazing."

One of the Koratyl stations broke up, a trio of nukes shaking it apart viciously, spilling its decks and cargo into space like black clouds of blood, the massive base leaking internals everywhere as it began to lose orbit.

"I have massive damage to the defence grid, a saturation nuclear strike."

"Favourite human tactic. Least it wasn't against us."

"I estimate we've lost about eighty percent capacity in the defences sir."

"Enough so that they can take the planet with ease." Dar'sen said.

"But they can't sir, we're here."

"Precisely, we're here." The Warmaster nodded. "But if we leave Tithalis falls, and opens the door to Omelos. So we must stay and at full strength, and not go help Jha'dur."

Ca'ra looked back at the display. "They just made us the one thing standing between the Drazi and Omelos didn't they sir?"

"Yes they did." Dar'sen allowed a little smile. "That was actually rather clever, I think the humans should have put this man in charge of their main force. Recall all fighters."

"Aye sir."

"Lets go see if we can rescue any survivors, then I better report this to Jha'dur. I think she'll see it for what it is."

Geneva

Earth

"That was so wrong." Morgan Clark stared with a stupid grin at the ceiling of his quarters within the secure Earth Dome compound, a fairly average apartment befitting a junior member of the EIA, something he wouldn't need for much longer.

"We should do it again." He decided.

"Ahh, nothing would give me greater pleasure." A female voice answered from the next room, talking around an open door. "But I must return to my duties, I need to start work in half an hour.

The slender figure of a blonde woman returned to the bedroom buttoning her blouse, finding a spot in front of his mirror and checking to make sure everything was straight and proper.

"Where do you work anyway…" Clark searched his memory hard to remember her name. "…Clare?"

"The Ministry of Trade." She replied, the alluring hint of a French accent folded around her words.

"Did I mention I'm in the EIA?" Clark said with his smile still fixed.

"Several times." Clare teased. "And I am as impressed now as I was last night."

Clark nodded a little and watched her straighten out her hair. It was a remarkable achievement, Clark considered himself fairly average and would not have expected to have ensnared such a first rate beauty, especially after only just meeting her the previous evening as he had visited one of the many bars in the complex.

He couldn't believe his luck, but guessed his job was the contributing factor, even though he led a boring ordinary life. The mystique around the EIA was enough to make an impressionable young woman swoon, and Clark had taken the opportunity to capitalise.

"So, you think we can do this again sometime?"

"Of course." She pulled her boots on. "I had a good time."

"Really? I mean me too."

"I gotta go, but you have my number right?"

"Definitely."

"So call me, whenever your back from that mission to Omelos you were talking about."

"I will, if I survive, you will be the first person I call."

Clare smiled dazzlingly. "You are a real hero."

"I'm just a man." Clark said. "It's just my job."

"So modest." She said subtly. "I understand why you can't give me your number."

"Thank you." Clark nodded. The real reason was because he was strictly speaking engaged to Henry Brogan's youngest Daughter, and this evening he had spent was technically cheating on his betrothed. Not that Clark was especially bothered after his time with Clare.

"Until next time Morgan." She leaned over and delivered a tantalising kiss. "Au Revoir."

Leaving Clark stretched out, tired and decidedly happy she trotted out of the apartment and crossed over to the parking lot, locating her plain looking car and hopping in. She knew the man was in there waiting for her, and smiled a little as she inserted the startup card and felt the vehicle shake as the engine powered up.

"I hope you haven't been here long." Clare mentioned, adjusting the rear view mirror to add some finishing touches to her makeup.

"Looks like your little meeting was a success."

"How could it be anything else?" she asked. "Hardly a challenge to seduce someone like him."

"Fell to your charms did he?"

"I let him think he did the work, you know he's on a secret mission for the EIA?"

"Yeah, I saw it. It involved fetching some takeaway for the real agents." The male huffed. "It doesn't matter, let him have his delusions."

"Delusional is the word." Clare sighed. "He believes himself to be a great lover."

The thin man chuckled. "Not up to your standards?"

"I keep hoping one of these jobs will involve someone with imagination, a knowledge of what a woman wants. Se' la Vie."

"It must be so difficult for you."

"Not entirely enjoyable." Clare admitted. "But it has its moments, and I am well rewarded for it."

"And you do it so well." The man grinned widely.

"Girl has to take some pride in her work."

She put her makeup kit aside and dropped the handbrake, pulling her small car out of the lot and whirring away to join the main roads, still quite empty at this early time.

"Clark will do as we wish him to." She said. "I can be persuasive, and he is eager to impress. Same old story."

"My associates have some stock invested in Mr Clark, we have our plans for him."

"I thought Brogan was our big player?" Clare mentioned as she steered around a corner.

"Brogan has begun to lose sight of his place." The thin passenger said flatly. "He has begun to consider the power he has gained is down solely to his skill and charisma, not our… active assistance."

"I see. He's getting a little big for his boots."

"Brogan's personality isn't suited to taking orders. Too brash, too big headed, too egotistical." The man said. "He takes suggestions now because he needs us, once he becomes President he won't."

"Presidents can be replaced." Clare said. "If he fails to take orders maybe we should set an example? His wife or one of his daughters?"

"Too much hassle, easier just to cut him out than make an accident happen at an appropriate time."

"Cut him out." Clare took the words. "That will be hard, we've invested a lot of time in resource sin him."

"And we'll get our money back." The man said. "We will have the Presidency, it just won't be Brogan. He will however be instrumental in putting our new man in the office."

"Who is our…" Clare sighed. "Oh no, you can't be serious."

"Morgan Clark." The man grinned. "Will be President of the Earth Alliance, in a decade or two."

Clare laughed in a gentle tinkle of sound. "You have odd tastes Lundin."

"Clark is perfect, he has ambitions, he has a chip on his shoulder, and he shares certain views with us about the future of Earth and limiting alien influence over human affairs." The thin man, Jake Lundin, ran through his thoughts. "Best of all he is young, he hasn't got any preconceived notions of his own superiority. He knows he won't get anywhere without help, and we will give him that help. Brogan will be our vehicle."

"You imagine he'll just sit there and let this youngster replace him as our President to be?"

"We just won't tell him." Lundin answered simply. "And if he learns, and tries to threaten us…"

"I'll handle it." Clare let a thin smile slip through. "Been a while since I burned out someone's brain."

"If people really knew what a trained P-12 can do, we'd all get strung up."

"Good thing that will never happen." Clare commented. "Provide we kill or drive insane anyone who ever finds out."

"The old insanity trick." Lundin said with apparent fondness. "Better than killing them sometimes."

"I prefer closure." The female admitted. "I like to have the final word."

She paused the car at an intersection, then continued on the morning drive.

"Clark will be leaving the EIA soon, he has a transfer to Brogans staff." Lundin stated. "From there he will start his political career. He'll learn from Brogan and stand as a Senatorial candidate in the Thirty Eight elections. I'm quite sure he'll win a seat despite his youth."

"I'm sure the Bureau is putting some contingency plans in place to make sure of it."

"No such thing as too much planning and preparation." Lundin nodded. "We're looking at the Cabinet by Forty six, Vice Presidency by Fifty Two and President by Fifty Six, Fifty Eight at the latest."

"Got it all planned." Clare smiled. "But that's assuming this part stays in power."

"It will." Lundin said. "If they win this war I'd expect to see a landslide in the next election, and I'd expect to see Levy running in the Forties sometime. If the post war economy matches predictions it will be a massive boost to our prosperity. Easy living, power, influence, this government will by in power for forty years. Well, provided it doesn't do anything stupid."

"And if it does?"

"Then it may become necessary for Clark to cross the floor and join the opposition." Lundin suggested. "Go join forces with Santiago and McKenzie."

"That complicates things."

"He will still be our President, his allegiance doesn't matter as long as it's to us first."

"So what do you want next?"

"For now he is still in the EIA, and as a Dilgar analyst has access to EIA records on the war." Lundin said. "We need some information."

"What about?"

"We know Jha'dur has several labs on Balos, facilities that experimented on living beings. We also know the aim of these experiments were to test new cybernetic and genetic technologies. The Bureau would like to take the results home for further study."

"That could be an issue, that subject is very touchy. I expect the army will level any labs it finds."

"I have teams out there ready to move fast once orbit is secured." Lundin said. "We take what we need, then go. But we need to know exactly where the labs are. Earth Force has identified them, and the EIA has the data. Convince Clark to give you a copy."

"And how should I do that?"

"Up to you, I wouldn't tell an artist how to wave her brush."

"What a wonderful image." Care beamed, turning into the approach to Teep town, the Psi Corps headquarters on Earth.

"Put your gloves and badge back on, remember, you are on duty."

"Yes sir." She chuckled, carefully adorning the items.

"See Clark again when he calls, I guarantee it will be soon."

"I will." She said. "What about the other guy, Al Bester?"

"Leave that to me." Lundn said. "He might not be stable enough. Motivated enough, but not entirely trust worthy. Time will tell."

The Car slowed at the gates, Lundin also putting on a Psi Corps badge.

"But Clark is already ours, now we just need patience and vision." He said with relish. "And victory in this war."

Dilgar Grand Fleet

"The humans know how to make a nuisance of themselves." Jha'dur allowed with a grunt. "Minor attacks, raids on Balos and in space. They can't cause lasting damage, but seem eager to risk their lives attacking anyway."

"Why would they do that Warmaster?" An'jash asked as she sat opposite the Warmaster in her quarters.

"To annoy me in person." She decided. "At least it feels like it sometimes." She folded the reports and tossed them on her desk. "No, it's to keep us alert, deprive us of sleep and relaxation, make us tense and more likely to make mistakes. Clever, but our fleet is to large to be affected on a wide basis."

"What about the skirmishes at Tirrith, and at Tithalis?"

"Tirrith was a minor raid, a feint to draw us away from Balos." Jha'dur dismissed. "Even if they broke through there Hamato will not abandon his people. Sooner or later, from one direction or another, all his roads lead here."

"Reports from Tithalis showed the attack there was pressed with great enthusiasm, we took heavy damage to the orbital defence grid."

"A softening up attack." Jha'dur nodded. "But still just a diversion, another feint."

"Warmaster, Tithalis is vital to our defences. If it falls there is nothing between the Drazi and Omelos."

"I know, and so does Earth Force. They are deliberately attacking our weak points, trying to make us flinch, to run and bolster our lines on the Drazi front and weaken our forces here. Just a trick."

"But if they do break through at Tithalis…"

"They won't." Jha'dur said confidently.

"But if they do, what then?" An'jash asked.

"It won't matter. Dar'sen is too skilled a warrior to leave Omelos defenceless. Even if he loses he will inflict such losses that the ships that reach Omelos will simply be fodder for the orbital guns. Or he may chose to withdraw and combine his fleet with the Omelos defence grid, a mix of fixed defences and well crewed warships. Nothing barring a full allied offensive would break a defence like that."

"Might they launch such an offensive?"

"I'm sure they have one planned, an endgame for this war." Jha'dur nodded. "But the Drazi alone can't do it, they don't have the resources. No they're still recovering from their failed grand offensive almost a year ago, Dar'sen has kept the weak and off balance, prevented them building up a decent strength. Even with the Earth fleet joining them they still don't have the numbers and power to hit Omelos alone."

"So the main offensive will come from this direction." An'jash reasoned.

"That was always my understanding, that is why we had to concentrate here." Jha'dur agreed. "And no matter where Hamato hits, that offensive will come through this system. Any assault on Omelos will be Earth led, no doubt about it, nobody else has the fleet to do it. So now, as always, the human ships are our main opponents."

"Our last reports said the force sin Drazi space had withdrawn back to Fendamir." An'jash stated. "Dar'sen still holds Tithalis."

"Just a distraction." Jha'dur nodded. "But a useful one, it weakens us and emboldens them. The Drazi have a prideful warrior spirit, one which has taken a beating lately. This Admiral Ferguson is helping them rediscover it, giving them victories to restore morale even if in strategic terms they are fairly minor. And then Stro'kath, here is a Drazi warrior of the classical kind. Even Dar'sen respects him, and there are few enough in our own navy who have truly impressed him."

She tapped the desk in thought.

"Good combination those two, Stro'kath and Ferguson. Different theories, but willing to adopt each others expertise. Good working relationship that builds on human and Drazi strengths. Potentially very dangerous. If I were Hamato I'd have sent more ships there and pushed the Drazi front, focused my strength on Tithalis and sacrifice the lives on Balos."

"But he is human, he won't sacrifice a quarter million people for victory."

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he did." Jha'dur smiled. "They've done it before, send millions into hell for victory, to win no matter the cost. But not here, the human leadership is a different beast to those ancient powers who would spend lives like water. The rule of the majority, not the rule of the strong."

"So he has to free them for political reasons." An'jash nodded. "To keep the people happy enough to prolong the fight."

"Which is why we are still here, and why those people on Balos will stay alive until after we break the human fleet." Jha'dur confirmed. "Though we should try and put a threat over them, we need Hamato to attack very soon, if he leaves it too long he'll replace the losses we've inflicted on him, and that would be most unfortunate."

"We sacrificed a lot of ships to defeat Earth Force, our losses are running at six to one!"

"I know Captain, and the human fleet yards are constantly working and expanding. Captain Sa'goth tells me the number of shipyards over Proxima has doubled since the start of the war, and yet they can still afford to live comfortably, to give their population an easy life. Almost unbelievable."

"The amount of money they have must be staggering."

"It is, human banks are almost as powerful as the Centauri institutions. Human corporations can give the Brakiri a run for their money, their merchant fleet is vast, resource extraction efficient, and they are too far away for us to raid and disrupt their supplies. But the real secret is credit, they are borrowing money to pay for this war, borrowing astronomical amounts. Something we can't do."

"The Narn provided s with certain loans and resources."

"They did but this is a different scale." Jha'dur agreed. "The finances Earth is pouring into this, it dwarfs the turnover of most League planets. You've seen how they fight, the massed barrages, waves of ships and fighters. Notonly are their weapons expensive and effective, they are deploye din vast numbers. Quality and quantity, that costs a lot of money."

"But surely they have to pay it all back sometime?"

"No they don't and that is the absolute master stroke of the human plan." Jha'dur grinned. "They don't need to pay a penny, the League does. They've managed to get the League to not only pay for saving itself, but also to fund the expansion of the Earth warmachine. Complete and utter genius."

"How?"

"Credit. Earth doesn't have to pay back its war loans until after it wins, and it will find the money to do that by tendering contracts to rebuild the League and probably Omelos itself. I pity the company that gets that job." She grinned. "Still, private companies profit in the League, the government takes its cut, then uses it to pay back war loans. Beautiful little cycle, I had no idea they could be so devious. I bet the Brakiri go green with envy if they ever figure it out."

"But they have to win first though?"

"I think they've already done enough to guarantee financial success with the liberated League. No doubt we'll have to free the Abbai and Hyach in any negotiation which is a small price to pay, gives us leverage. If you imagined fighting Earth was hard, wait until we have to bargain with them."

Jha'dur took a moment to look at the paperwork on her desk, then decided that now was not really the time.

"Alright Captain, that will be all for now."

"As you wish Warmaster." The white haired officer stood and straightened her blue uniform.

"We'll continue later this evening, return to the bridge and keep me informed of the search efforts."

"I will Warmaster." An'jash bowed her head. "Until later."

The young officer turned on her heel and marched out, a paragon of professionalism. Jha'dur was glad to have her company, a solid and knowledgeable who often provided a voice of reason and question. Usually Jha'dur had already considered the questions An'jash asked in her own mind, but it never hurt to have a second opinion on the chance she had missed something.

The Captain would make a good Warmaster one day, one of the new generation.

Jha'dur rose from her desk and poured herself a glass of water, unwilling at this time to indulge in something more hedonistic. She sipped the fresh liquid, letting it cool her before heading back and settling in her private chambers, intent on trying to relax. She had to settle her mind sometimes, just let go so her mind did not become paranoid or start second guessing itself. She had to be on best form when Hamato made his second attempt at seizing the planet, as he inevitably must.

She had some respect for the Human Admiral, he had fought well and cleverly, but she sensed that she had him figured out. Hamato was too rigid, too reliant on his initial plan and slow to adapt once the plan was broken. He built so much into his planning it became overly complicated, rigid and easy for a skilled eye to spot. Jha'dur had fought him twice now, and seen his tactics elsewhere. She knew the man, she knew how he thought and how he would deploy his ships. She knew Hamato inside and out, he would be back, he would deploy his forces in loose Taskforces, and he would not fall back again. If he did it would cost him the war, and he would likely be forced to retire from the service with no fanfare.

This next fight would be hard though, because to his credit Hamato was a quick study. He too knew his enemy and knew how to adapt. He had seen the Dilgar at war and trained his ships to fight in such a way as to beat them. He had now seen a new Dilgar way of fighting and would adapt his style to meet that too. He would be less rigid in the next attack, more fluid, more trusting of his subordinates to make their own choices. That would be a problem.

Earth Force was incredibly well trained, possibly even better than the Centauri Royal Navy and certainly better than most of her ships. The Dilgar crews would follow her orders to the letter unto death itself, but if left to their own devices they were unimaginative and not prepared to use their initiative. That was their major failing, without someone like Jha'dur or Dar'sen to guide them the fleet would only react to changes, and that would be their end. Officers were trained to be obedient, not to think for themselves until they reached higher ranks, to look after just their part of the battle.

A Human Captain on the other hand was expected to keep the grander picture in mind, to think not only of his ship and taskforce but to consider the local fleet situation to. It was a great deal of information to process, yet human Captains seemed to be experts at it and able to put themselves in the right place at the right time.

That worried Jha'dur more than anything else. In a stand up battle line she would lose to EA firepower, in a random melee she would lose to the better individual training of Earth officers. Her only chance was a controlled melee, a close range battle where she held central controlled and shifted ships and pentacans faster than the humans could react to stop them. It had given her victory twice against the odds, but the third time now the humans were aware of her tactics, that would be the ultimate challenge.

Her considerations were interrupted by a chime, an incoming message on the communication screen.

"Receive message." She ordered.

"Command code required."

That was something rare, normally she didn't have to prove who she was. It hinted that the message contained information classified at the highest level, beyond even her posting. Only the Supreme Warmaster could classify something that highly.

"Voice check, Jha'dur, Warmaster." She announced. "Password… Dal'shan."

She felt a twinge of agony at the name, but refused to change the password. She needed that reminder, that longing to remind herself she still cared.

"Code confirmed, standby." The computer blinked. The screen lit up, and on the other end was Captain Sa'goth, this time apparently stood on the bridge of a Starship.

"Captain, you don't need first level security to speak with me." She chided slightly at the officer.

"Apologies Warmaster, but in this matter I must insist, Supreme Warmasters orders."

"Gar'shan? He is awake?" her voice sounded hopefully.

"I regret not Warmaster, these orders were left before he succumbed." Sa'goth said with disappointment. "But Imust follow them."

"As must we all." Jha'dur nodded. "This channel is secure, and I am alone in my quarters."

"Very well." Sa'goth began. "I have recently been informed of a project the Supreme Warmaster commissioned, a project he kept so secret I had no idea it even existed."

"What type of project?"

"A weapon." Sa'goth said. "The most powerful weapon on record."

Her interest peaked. "What type?"

"A weapon of planetary destruction, more powerful than a Mass Driver and more reliable than biological warfare. Warmaster, this system is ready for large scale testing."

"How soon."

"Immediately, I am stood on the ship with this system fitted. I only need your order."

Jha'dur stepped back for a moment and gathered her thoughts. "What exactly is this Captain? What do you have out there?"

"The project itself is quite straight forward Warmaster. When we first took Balos over two years ago the Supreme Warmaster predicted the problem you now face, namely the underdwellings and dealing with their inhabitants."

"Yes, the humans and Balosians hiding underground." Jha'dur mused. "Too deep for Mass Drivers or Nukes to handle, too organised and prepared for a biological attack."

"The Supreme Warmaster expected this, he knew our standard crack and clear practices would not work here, or at the Llort homeworld which has similar underground refuges."

The basic Dilgar tactic for planetary clearance, the one created by Jha'dur before the war, relied on two different elements. Massive orbital bombardment, and a follow up biological strike.

The idea was that a biological strike alone would have a hard time wiping out a whole planet, even with the best plagues they were still dependant on wind directions, precipitation, lack or warning, disorganised responses and the like. Jha'dur's biggest breakthrough was a virus that could jump species at will, necessary to be useful against different alien races, but also to spread among a world through infected animals.

An infected city could be quarantined, but stopping every bird, rodent or swarm of insects would be all but impossible. The missiles were merely an initial delivery system, for full planetary coverage the plague had to rely on living beings to carry it. The only way to stop it would be by utterly annihilating an infected area for miles around with a nuclear strike or similar device. Something which, given the alternative, most governments would sanction.

However to do that there had to be a government and a set infrastructure to react. There had to be decisions processed, communications, troops to seal off areas and orders given to attack. This was where the orbital strikes came in, decapitating governments, destroying infrastructure and throwing whole worlds into chaos. Most of the deaths in the war had been caused by these strikes, but even then the still left people alive.

The Plagues came after, without warning and without anyone to warn the dazed survivors to hide or take cover. With no quarantine, no preparations, just a remnant medieval society trying to cling to life the plagues were stunningly effective. While each alone could kill billions, to really finish the job both needed to be enacted simultaneously, and that had proven quite rare during the course of the war.

It seemed the Supreme Warmaster had found a way around it, and that attracted Jha'dur's undivided attention.

"The Warmaster approved work on a new type of missile, a super high yield Nuclear device." Sa'goth said. "A warhead of several thousand megatons each."

"Big missile." Jha'dur worked out the mass in her head. "Five hundred meters?"

"Three hundred, our team found a way to shrink the weapon using a new propulsion system."

"Let me guess, gravitic?"

"Yes Warmaster."

She shook her head. "This is Drakh technology isn't it?"

"I believe so, yes Warmaster." Sa'goth agreed. "My guess is the Drakh provided the specifications and technologies. Some of this stuff, these materials, like nothing I've ever seen."

Jha'dur ran through some numbers. "There is a problem though, these missiles might have a better type of propulsion, but their yield is nothing new. They'll destroy a city, a big one, but it would take scores to break through into just one cave, it would be cheaper just to use Mass Drivers over and over again."

"I would agree Warmaster, until I learned the last part of the equation." The Intelligence chief stated. "These missiles are designed to penetrate a planetary crust."

"How much of it?"

"All of it."

Jha'dur frowned. "Impossible, were talking a hundred miles of solid rock on average, there isn't an alloy in existence that could stay rigid long enough to do that."

"That is true Warmaster, these missiles aren't made of alloys." Sa'goth said with a hint of discomfort. "In truth, I'm not sure what these things are made of."

He tapped a few keys, and the image changed to show one of the weapons. It looked like two black cones fixed together at the base, long and smooth with no clear features. Its surface seemed to ooze and breed patterns within itself, at once both captivating and repulsive.

"Our best analysis shows it to be, semi organic in nature." Sa'goth spoke. "The scientists can replicate it from an original source, but have no idea how it was originally created."

Jha'dur stared gravely at the missile. "Are you telling me it's alive?"

"It shares some characteristics with a life form, yes, but it isn't really alive. It absorbs energy to feed itself, any time of energy, and we can't evenbegin to analyse what its made from. Some type of bio engineering and nano technology beyond even the theoretical papers we've read."

Jha'dur herself had written the most advanced theories of bio and nano science in the imperium, and by extension probably in the known galaxy. If this was beyond her vision, then she had to have a sample of whatever it was made of.

"First things first." She spoke clearly. "Does it work?"

"Our preliminary tests show it is a sound principle. The first unarmed device cored through a five hundred mile wide asteroid in less than four seconds."

"By the gods!" Jha'dur exclaimed, forgetting herself.

"The theory is the weapons punch through a planetary crust and explode beneath the surface, triggering global earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. It wipes out infrastructure as fast as any Mass Driver strike, and pumps out enough toxins to poison all life and blot out the sun. We can create an extinction level event with these weapons, we can wipe out a planet in one strike, and I don't know of anything that can stop us."

"But is it proven Captain?"

"I am just about to." He replied. "I'm at Belishay."

"The Hyach Colony?"

"Yes Warmaster."

"We ignored it, knocked out their orbital facilities and put a small garrison in orbit. About eight or ten million people, a mix of Hyach and Abbai." Jha'dur rattled off from memory. "A joint colony, very rare indeed. A sign of unity and progression, a vision of the future. Compliments to Gar'shan, he always knew how to pick the perfect target."

"We have five hundred prototype missiles, we're ready to fire on your orders."

"Do you have all the required monitoring equipment?"

"Yes Warmaster, the team was very well supplied."

She nodded slowly. "Well, no point wasting more time. Commence firing."

"At once Warmaster, patching through data feeds."

Jha'dur watched quietly as the weapons were quickly primed in the belly of their launch ship, a heavily modified Athraskala class bombardment ship. Her packed out cargo doors opened exposing the stretched and distorted magazine crammed with the large missiles, glimmering blackly in the red lit interior.

She kept a straight face, burying questions about why Gar'shan had not informed her of this secret project, and watched eagerly as the wall of projectiles were expelled from the carrier.

The missiles broke like an exploding star made entirely of pitch and tar, and while Jha'dur did not hear it the crew on the missile ship were subjected to a joyful and bloodthirsty screech, an ethereal banshee calling telepathically announcing the end of the world.

The weapons set their courses, pre-programmed to make ground fall at a specific location around the primary continent. The Dilgar didn't have enough weapons to completely ruin the surface with a saturation strike, but the long term ecological damage of just this one strike would be enough to effectively render the world uninhabitable. They were centred on the one inhabited continent in the temperate zone, warm and wet enough for the amphibious Abbai but still dry enough for the Hyach. The missiles fell in a spiral, circling the continent and curling inward, moving at massive speed as their gravitic propellers shot them into the ground.

The black darts hit so fast they barely registered as visible, outrunning their own shockwave and igniting the air in friction miles behind them. The blast of the parting air and the heat forcing the downdraft to expand behind the weapons was like a nuclear explosion itself, the gust front shattering houses and stripping forests and fields down to the bedrock for miles around.

Each impact left a vast puff of rock behind it, a fountain of sand coloured stone forced out by the gravitic fields and hard surface of the darts. The went clean through the core, cracking the ground about them like shattering glass before forcing a spout of magma and noxious gas through the newly formed vent.

Massive volcanoes were born where the missiles had struck, fiery red liquid blasted up under pressure and showered viscous rock over thousands of miles. The colony was already gone, destroyed in the initial impact more readily than any Mass Driver could equal, and yet the real coup de grace had yet to be delivered.

Jha'dur's signal flickered for a few seconds as the weapons exploded, the pulse of their detonation powerful enough to reach the distant science ships. Jha'dur watched in pure amazement as the continent tore itself apart, rock bulging up like ocean waves as magma surged and bubbled deep below. Fault lines split wide open, huge fissures tearing the land apart in explosions of flying rock, both molten and solid. Billions of tons of ash and soot, of sulpher and carbon poured into the air darkening the sky and turning everything an angry red and orange.

Great clouds began to obscure the orbital images, black and grey from above bit lit red by the fires below. It had taken less than a minute, she had seen it before her eyes, the whole continent was gone, broken up and slowly being consumed by the fiery heart of the planet. Hell had broken through to the realm of the living and now claimed it in fire and brimstone.

"Captain Sa'goth." Jha'dur spoke quietly, in awe of the demonstration. "How many of these do we have?"

"Currently, just one Warmaster. However the missiles are very easy to make, if dangerous. Handling the materials with bare skin can cause instant death if the material has no other energy source to consume."

"How long to do this again?"

"Less than a month."

"How long until we can destroy a whole planet with these?"

"My estimate, two months, three at the most."

"By all that is godlike in this galaxy, I have never seen such power so easily created." She smiled widely. "This isn't Drakh technology, this they acquired elsewhere. This belonged to their masters."

"We have enough ships to deploy them in one attack, we can hit Balos."

"Yes, and no matter how deep they are, nothing will survive that." Jha'dur grinned enthusiastically. "Even in his current condition Gar'shan is still helping us win the war decisively. Once we show the galaxy we can destroy whole worlds, the future of our race will be secured no matter which world we settle on."

"We also have plans for a smaller version." Sa'goth said. "A fighter launched missile able to penetrate any warship armour in the galaxy."

"Even better, with these weapons, our new classes of ships and fighters, and our core of veteran commanders and crews." She burst into a big smile. "We'll have the most powerful fleet in the galaxy, small, but advanced enough and skilled enough to meet any challenge."

She smiled and looked down, laughing.

"Thank you Gar'shan, true saviour of our race."

"Shall I commence mass production Warmaster?"

"Immediately." She nodded. "Take the entire Research budget, hell just take the entire budget. I want as many as can be built ready by next month."

"Yes Warmaster."

"This is a turning point Captain."

"What about the humans Warmaster, if they find out…"

"If they find out they will try to stop us, they will launch their attack early." She grinned. "Exactly what I want them to do. And if they don't, even if Hamato brings ten thousand Dreadnoughts I have a weapon that will go through his armoured ships like piles of jelly. By the gods Captain, I cannot stress enough what this means to our people, it gives us a future, it makes us safe, and when we want to expand again, no one can stop us, not the Narn, or Centauri, or even Earth. The Dilgar legacy will never die, not anymore, not now we have such a weapon."

She smiled, her eyes looking beyond the screen at some imaginary future.

"To the immortal Dilgar Imperium." She smiled widely. "A dream about to become reality."


	91. Chapter 91

89

Camelot Station

Earth Expeditionary Force

Brakir

All day long ships had entered the system, dropped their cargo, and then left. Crates were tethered outside the station and dealt with as swiftly as possible by dock workers and maintenance ships. Small work furies manipulated and grabbed containers and hauled them into the maw of Camelot station, from there the sensitive military supplies were placed in secure cargo holds under Earth control, while more general fuels and spare parts were distributed across the system to Brakiri facilities. Ideally it would all have been kept in the human station, but so much was coming in they had to use allied facilities.

Empty cargo containers were jettisoned from the station, too large and bulky to keep inside they were put on a slow course floating towards the outer reaches of the system to be recovered and reused later when time and space allowed. The ring like station was surrounded on its circumference by vessels, mostly the basic caterpillar like Belt Alliance vessels with their attached modular pods, but at least three massive super freighters were visible further around the planet pumping fuel into a giant reserve depot.

Hundreds of millions of credits passed through the jump gate in the form of raw materials and weapons, barely a minute went by without something entering or leaving the system. Some among the Brakiri government had proposed imposing the jump tariffs they had used before the war, a fee on the use of the gate that was a simple tax on travel most governments levied. While this would have made a vast amount of money, Representative Brocat shamed the idea out of the debating floor of the Krona, forcing the idea to be quietly shelved.

Brocat recognised what Earth had done for them, and while like all Brakiri he had a keen interest in turning profit, he also possessed an impressive long term vision. He knew that after the war the humans would rapidly become the biggest market in the galaxy, importing and exporting as much if not more than the Narn and Centauri. He could see the potential of that market and the value of keeping humans friendly to Brakir, not souring it with an attempt to make a quick pile of cash.

His world was still in a horrendous state, the relatively light orbital bombardment and biological strikes had pushed the fragile ecosystem to breaking point. Mass starvation was hovering nearby as an ever present glimpse of reality and underlining the extremely precarious state of the Brakiri as a society. Without outside help they would be in serious trouble, and at this stage only Earth was offering that aid.

Limak Brocat was one of the Executives of the massive Ak'Habil corporation, one of the two main military contractors in Brakiri space. In a society where profit dictated power his company guaranteed Brocat's voice would be heard and respected. More than that, he had also predicted the dire straights his race now found itself in but had been ignored. His forward thinking and vision could have altered this, and it was a point he quietly made time and again during debates. His business acumen and wisdom in politics had finally put him in a place where he could more or less decide Brakiri policy, a future leader in waiting, and his policy was full support of Earth and the war.

To that end he levied no gate taxes, no storage fees and opened Brakiri military bases and repair yards to the allies free of charge. While not as magnaminous a gesture as it might have seemed on the surface, it was still a clear statement of unity and one the Alliance would not soon forget.

Inside Camelot station things were just as frantic, beeping forklift trucks reversed over hangar decks and docking pays shifting pallets from cargo pods to powered trolleys in a simple repeated action. The trolleys would be loaded and then towed like a train by a small haulage vehicle at the front steered by a member of the Dockers Guild, or sometimes a Belt Alliance contractor. Everything was amazingly busy, it seemed every inch of deckspace had something piled on it, something driving over it in a procession, or some docker stood on it shouting. It was a beating heart, a loud clashing heart pumping the vital elixirs of life into the Allied fleet to keep it alive and active.

Through this organised chaos stepped Admiral Hamato, simply watching the process at work and picking out the complex and interwoven patterns of the dock crews as each foreman ran his own little team of men or women and vehicles. None of them were enlisted Earth Force personnel so had no need to salute him, or even acknowledge him. Indeed they were so busy he was barely noticed as he picked his way between crates and avoided reversing trucks.

"That pallet, down to bay three!" Yelled a stocky bulldog of a man, an electronic clip board grasped in his meaty hands. "Do not drop that bugger!"

A yellow forklift turned in reverse, shifting a stack of fighter missiles from a docked shuttle and moving it to a trolley over Hamato's head. He admired the speed and precision of the operation, recognizing the long years of dedication these people must have invested in their careers.

"Cooper! Get over here!" The foreman demanded. "Here!"

He waved over a thin middle aged man in overalls.

"You're certified as a Class D operator right?"

"Yeah boss."

"Okay, get on that trolley and shift it, its loaded up with class D pallets. Be careful."

"No problem boss."

"And I mean be careful, this stuff is more dangerous than the usual Class D's."

Cooper went over to the hauler, several trolleys of conical warheads were suspended in crash frames behind him. The different types of cargo the dock workers moved had different classifications depending on the care needed to move them, or the danger inherent in the load. Class A was the easiest and safest, things like grain or spare parts and increased through class B representing fuels and class C representing fragile goods or flammables. Class D was reserved for highly dangerous or very delicate goods, with only a class E grade superseding it and reserved for Quantium 40 handling.

In this particular case the class D load was comprised of two dozen nuclear warheads, and while unlikely to explode in a blazing white light they were still packed with radioactive materials and high explosives.

"Look at those things." Cooper gazed at the weapons. "Is that rust?"

"Nah." The foreman looked at one of the casings and stopped. "Actually yeah, it is. Rust."

"We better report this." Cooper said quickly. "I don't want to be dragging a broken nuke through the damn station!"

"Gentlemen, there is nothing to worry about." Hamato stepped into the conversation. "It is quite safe."

"And who are…" The Foreman paused when he saw the uniform. "Right, you're the guy in charge."

Hamato nodded. "These weapons are certified safe by Earth Force, there is no danger of a failure."

"But Admiral, it's rusty."

"Just a bit of surface deterioration on the casing, the internals are fine." He said. "It's to be expected, this device is a century old."

The two dockworkers stared at the rack of bombs, and then in perfect unison spoke. "No way!"

"Some of them are even older." Hamato glanced over the weapons. "Look at that one, Soviet era."

"And they still work?" Cooper asked.

"They should do." Hamato nodded. "Most of these were decommissioned and stockpiled after World War Three. They've been sat in bunkers for over a century inert, still containing their nuclear material but with no detonators. We used up all our modern nukes in the last battle, so to restock the fleet Earth Force has emptied the old stockpiles."

"But these things are ancient!"

"So was the nuke that took out San Diego, it worked well enough." Hamato replied. "We just need to put them on a modern missile, which we have plenty of. These nukes are inefficient, a bit big by our standards and underpowered, but they still have the desired effect."

"Are we so desperate that we're using hundred year old bombs?"

"Nothin desperate about it." Hamato smiled reassuringly. "Just faster than building more nukes, and it lets us safely disarm our old nuclear stocks. By firing them at somebody."

The Foreman grinned. "I like the logic of it, I really do."

"Better move these away." Hamato said. "There'll be another thousand coming in with the next ship."

"Sounds like it's going to be a party." Cooper chuckled.

"I aim to please." Hamato answered coldly. "Keep up the good work gentlemen, at this rate we'll be fuelled up by the end of the week."

Cooper activated the electric vehicle and trundled away, driving into the depths of the station and passing an empty trolley train on the way back. Hamato resumed his walking, leaving the foreman to do his job without distraction. The Admiral absorbed the scale of the operation, the dirty ships and crew, the constant grind of machinery, the ton after ton of munitions moving through the dock. It was a huge undertaking, a vast preparation aimed at restoring his fleet to fighting fitness. Hamato knew all this was under his command, the power and precision of not just the Earth Warmachine, but also the vital support mechanisms that fed it. While his actual force of arms consisted of just over two thousand Human and allied ships his influenced touched tens of millions of lives across the galaxy, from the person who made the zips on the pants of his troops to whoever aligned the focusing power feeds for the plasma cannons on a heavy cruiser.

It was a great responsibility he bore, to make decisions on such a scale that it would affect so many lives, and indeed the very course of history. He had accept it with trademark stoicism and showed no sign of awe or uncertainty, but that did not mean it didn't scare him on a primal and fundamental level. But at least his role was clearly defined, he knew what he had to do, what was expected of him. All he had to do was live up to that expectation, something easier said than done.

"Sir!" a high voice caught him. "Sir, I've been looking everywhere!"

Stumbling across the deck came a dishevelled shock of purple hair, from beneath which a pale and scruffily dressed young woman panted and tried to catch her breath. She doubled over, resting her hands on her knees as she rejuvenated herself.

"Good morning Agent Laney, how are you?"

"Wishing I'd taken up jogging sir." She managed, forcing herself upright. "We need to talk sir, quieter is better."

Hamato scanned around and spotted a vacant office, the door hanging open set in the wall of the docking bay.

"This way."

He led her into the office, clearing a little space the desk full of cargo manifests and timetables, then settled as the EIA agent closed the door behind her.

Heather Laney was his second ranked codebreaker, close colleague and indeed lover of Francis O'Leary who had been loaned to his command with the grudging acceptance of EIA Director Karl Durban. With Francis stranded on Balos Heather had been forced to take over running of the small team of Agents working for Hamato, and he was quietly very pleased with the job she had done. She looked like a Neo-punk, and indeed loved the latest thunder metal bands, but beneath that baggy clothed exterior lived a pretty girl and a lightning mind.

"Alright Agent, what do you have for me?"

"We broke into a comm. Intercept picked up by one of our deep range stations hidden in Dilgar space." She spoke quickly, trying to get to the point quickly. "It was highly encrypted, but we cracked it, a video link between Jha'dur and a man we've identified as the Dilgar head of Intelligence."

"I've heard he's good."

"One of the best sir, if he were human he'd be a Deputy Director by now." Heather agreed. "But that wasn't the point sir. The video showed a weapon test."

"What sort of weapon?"

She dug out a data crystal and plugged it into a wall slot.

"Best you see for yourself."

Hamato watched with a blank face. Heather had provided subtitles for the Dilgar language but the Admiral didn't need to read them to know what was happening, the visuals spoke for themselves. He examined the Dilgar missiles, heard Jha'dur describe their origin, and then watched coldly as the weapons were deployed against the colony. He said nothing until the video finished, and then turned back to the desk still in silence.

"Do you need to see this again sir?" Heather asked.

"No, I think it speaks loud enough to be effective first time." The Admiral said emptily. "They can kill all life on a world, not new, but now they can do it almost instantly and irreversibly."

"We noticed she used the word 'Drakh' a few times when speculating on the source of the weapons." Heather said. "There was no direct translation from the Dilgar so I guessed it was a real name. I checked our records and there was nothing on file, but the word search flagged a warning with EIA central."

"What does that mean?"

"Every search we do is recorded." Heather explained. "Monitored in case we're abusing our position. Sometimes if we search for something sensitive it flags us and reports to the head of internal security. Looking for the word 'Drakh' did that."

"So that subject is considered so secret even an EIA agent can't access it?"

"Yes sir." Heather nodded. "However when I made my report and showed the Director what I just showed you, he gave me clearance."

"So who are the Drakh?"

"We only have one reference to them, it came from a Centauri Secret Service disc the Director himself stole when he was a field agent a decade ago. Those discs were one of our biggest successes, and we still want the Centauri kept in the dark about them. Their secret service is as good as it gets, so we had to hide all information from those records, hence the high security."

"So what did you learn?"

"The Centauri report was an archive. It told of an alien agent infiltrating several of the noble families for unknown ends. The Centauri rooted him out, but not before he'd killed several prominent people. They called him a Drakh. Sir, if they can get past the Centauri Secret Service they have to be damn good."

"Indeed."

"The report then gave a little background. They mentioned the Drakh had previously tried to infiltrate the Centauri Republic at the time of the Orieni war two centuries ago."

"The Orieni war was supposed to have been a slaughter, almost as bad as this one."

"Yes sir, and a lot of that has been attributed by the Centauri to the Drakh interference."

"So they are long time trouble makers, and an older race than us."

"Yes sir. They were declared extinct during the war, the Orieni were credited with Mass Driving the Drakh homeworld to dust, and the effort of doing so is considered the main reason they lost the war."

"Not so extinct as we were led to believe."

"No sir."

"What about these 'Masters' she mentions?"

"We have nothing at all on that sir, no reference anywhere to the Drakh being slaves or allies to anyone. If these weapons are beyond Drakh technology, then it is a small comfort to us. It means that even with Drakh help the Dilgar aren't exceeding us by much. I'd guess the Sekhmets are Drakh designs, they are a major leap but not so much as these missiles."

"Whoever designed those missiles…" Hamato shook his head. "They'd be the most dangerously powerful race in the galaxy."

"Yes they would sir, but thankfully we have no evidence of direct help to our enemies, or even that they exist beyond these devices."

Hamato accepted the report.

"This changes things."

"Yes sir."

"The Dilgar estimate one month to deploy these weapons in quantities necessary to kill our people on Balos. That is our deadline."

Heather nodded. "By our guess, our ships won't be able to intercept these missiles. They're too fast and our only chance would be to put our ships in their path."

"If they can go through planets, they'll go through our ships sides."

"Yes sir, but they need to arm first. Before they arm we can destroy them on approach." Heather said. "I don't know how they work exactly, some sort of energy field. But until it activates, they are vulnerable to attack, it just looks like it would take a great deal of firepower to stop them."

"Or a selfless Captain." Hamato considered. "Let's make sure it doesn't come to that."

"They have to be launched conventionally sir, destroy the ships and they are useless."

"Or destroy the production facilities." Hamato considered. "Anything on their location?"

"Wherever it was sir, not even Jha'dur knew about it. This isn't going to be easy."

"It rarely is anymore."

"The Director has already made this the highest priority of the EIA, he's got everyone working on it, but he can't guarantee he'll uncover the location before next month."

"Then we have to destroy the delivery system. The fleet at Balos."

"Jha'dur's fleet?"

He nodded. "And we have to do it right now."

"Sir, we won't have our new build ships in time."

"I know." Hamato said, standing. "That will be all Agent, to your duties."

"Yes sir." Heather said without argument, and then departed as quickly as she arrived, the urgency of the mission not lost on her.

Hamato took the data crystal and turned it over in his hand, considering what was inside and what it meant. He stood in the doorway, once again watching the overalled people and yellow flashing lights of vehicles in the dock, loading and unloading under his gaze in their own little worlds of cargo, locations and schedules.

Jha'dur was going to be waiting for him. She knew he had to act to stop this, she was forcing his hand and she knew full well that all the advantages rested in her hands. She was sure of victory, and everything pointed to her being right. Hamato had no choice, he had to attack and attack soon, or watch Balos fall followed by the certainty of the Dilgar holding the galaxy to ransom with this new weapon.

He clenched his fist over the crystal, resolving himself in that moment to give Jha'dur the battle she dearly craved. He had to win this time, even down to the last ship, he had to win or all was lost.

Balos

The Underdwellings.

"All credit to the Cascor, they know how to make a fighter." Sinclair nodded in agreement.

"They gave me a very hard time." Ari'shan confirmed from behind bars. "Not just numbers, but skill! They were so daring, so fearless, truly remarkable. I fought one of them, and I don't know who it was but that pilot was the best I've faced after you."

"I met a Cascan pilot who said she survived battle with you, said you towed her into hyperspace and sent her home."

"Yes, yes that was the one!" Ari said enthusiastically. "She fought magnificently, I couldn't leave her to die slowly in the cold of space with the rest. It was a small gesture, but by her valour she earned it." He grinned genuinely. "I'm glad she survived."

Neither of them spoke for a while, enjoying the silence.

"Strange isn't it, that we can sit here and talk?" Sinclair considered. "After we basically almost died trying to kill each other."

"You're not my enemy." Ari said. "I don't hate you or your world, you were my adversary, my duelling opponent. I don't fight people I hate, I fight those who are like me. I fight those who are skilled, honourable, who have given themselves over to the art of space combat. I have more respect for my enemies than I do most of my own race!"

"I'm not any of those things." Sinclair said. "I have a skill, I can fly a Starfury, so that's what I do. If I was an expert baker I'd do that instead, it's just using my talents."

"I think there's more to it than that." Ari observed. "I can see it in your style, you love flying."

Sinclair had to give way. "I admit that I am at my second best in a Fury."

"Just second?"

"I have family." He stated. "Wife and two sons. When I'm with them, that's when I'm at my very best."

"Ah, I se." Ari smiled. "Congratulations, but you know it is in your blood?"

"I know." The human nodded. "Ever since my people started to fly, in aircraft made of wood and canvas with piston engines there has been a Sinclair trying to keep it in the air. My ancestors fought the Red baron, the Battle of Britain, flew tactical strikes over the Himalayas against the Chinese army and tested the first HALO fighter. My great, great, great…. Well it goes back a while, but she was a pilot on the second Mars mission to establish a colony, and her grandson made the first ever space fighter to fighter kill in an Alpha, utter death trap of a craft." Sinclair smiled. "My Father flew Aries Furies in the first battle with the Ch'lonas, and my two sons have better simulator score than most rookie pilots already in the Force."

"It's in your blood Commander, no denying it." Ari agreed. "My ancestors, they are a bit more mixed. One of them is accounted among the greatest knights of the ancient days, my role model. He stormed the gates of a citadel virtually single handed, clearing a way for his followers though he died in the process, but not until the way was clear."

Ari looked down as he spoke his mind.

"Another flew the first atomic bomber, dropped the first nuclear bomb on our enemies and triggered our last great internal war. His plane wasn't fast enough to outrun the blast, he knew it, but he still went on the mission and never came back. Then there is my Father, Gar'shan. Hailed as the greatest leader in history. Maybe he is, but it seems even he couldn't win this war."

"Can't choose your family." Sinclair said. "Sometimes it's good, sometimes not so much."

"No, I suppose not."

"But you are your own man." Sinclair pointed. "And that is something to be proud of."

"I try to live by my code, but it can be difficult in the culture I come from. I was almost executed once for refusing to fire on civilians."

Sinclair grinned. "Maybe you're people aren't all bad then. If you can be who you are coming from your back ground, maybe there's some hope for the rest."

"It would be nice to think so."

Their conversation ended with the arrival of Agent O'Leary, the young man giving a quick nod to the Dilgar pilot by way of formality.

"Commander Sinclair, are you ready to come with us."

He stood from his simple chair. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Until later Commander." Ari stood in respect. "You have to tell me about that slingshot you pulled at Markab."

"I still have the scars." Sinclair shook his head. "Until then."

He joined Francis and the two of them left the corner of the enclave, nodding to the guard as they returned to the main cavern.

"You seem to be chatting a lot with Ari'shan." Francis commented.

"We have a lot to talk about, old soldiers."

Francis smiled. "He's not much older than me!"

"And I bet you have some stories to tell too, right?" Sinclair raised an eyebrow.

"Good point." The Agent nodded. "So, did you learn anything useful?"

"I learned we have more in common than different."

"I was thinking more about military information."

"Not so much, he is still not talking about his fleet. But I have learned the Dilgar put a lot of emphasis on following orders."

Francis took in the detail. "That is actually quite useful, it helps my theory."

"Which theory?"

"I'll tell you later, still working on it." Francis said, climbing up a rocky slope. "You know crowbar still wants to break his skull."

"Sergeant Garibaldi? I can understand that, but he could only do that in the wilderness. Too many officers here."

"True, but it'll take a while before he gets over it. Paul was a good friend."

"Yeah, so I heard." Sinclair agreed. "So is it a good idea that I come along?"

Francis levelled off and found their destination, a small corner of the cavern where a spring emerged from the ground. The beautifully clear water gurgled up playfully from the bedrock and ran in a deep carved miniature e through the cave system. Springs like this were vital for underground survival and as such tended to be venerated by the Balosians as spiritual places and sources of life. This one had a few cave paintings around it, and a small group of uniformed humans.

Sinclair recognized the men and women of Red Platoon, though this time with their helmets removed.

"Not too late am I?" Francis asked.

"You're fine. We haven't started yet." Garibaldi declared.

"Sergeant." Sinclair nodded.

"Commander." He replied. "Thanks for, well, not reporting that thing…"

"I owe you guys my life, you brought me in." Sinclair said. "No harm done."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi smiled. "You're a good guy."

"Runs in the family." The Commander laughed a little.

The two new arrivals took up their places along the side of the small stream, lit by a series of candles in a warm glow. They didn't need to wait long. With a small thud two Balosians arrived, dressed in elaborate robes decorated with the fangs of predatory beasts. Francis recognized them as Major Strylek, the Balosian liaison to General Biek, and Tisket the scout who had adopted Red Platoon as his new unit. Both were masked in white and red face paint and carried spears with which they tapped the ground at regular intervals.

Walking between them was Jenny Sakai, her dark hair ragged and unkempt like she hadn't touched it in a week. Perhaps she hadn't. She also carried a spear and wore a threaded necklace of fangs, very white and a little smaller than those of the Balosians. Francis had the horrible realisation that those fangs were probably taken from the Spectres and Dilgar soldiers she had killed.

"She's gone native." He muttered under his breath.

He wasn't as surprised as he thought he'd be. Jenny might have moved past her anger but was still mired in grief, something the Balosians knew all about. She likely had much more in common with them, her life in the Special Forces and then EIA had been one of loneliness, a single soldier pitting herself against great odds with just her skill and guile to back her up. As a warrior culture the Balosians would appreciate such a tale, and would welcome her as a lost sister.

She walked past, her dark eyes empty and hanging open with no feeling behind them, cold and introspective. She stood behind the spring facing them with a small bag, and the two Balosians flanked her.

"We all know what this is." She said in a croaky voice, nothing like the confident tones Francis knew her for. "This is saying goodbye."

The assembled group lowered their heads.

"Paul didn't leave a lot of things." She opened the bag. "A watch, identity cards, wallet, some weaponry. Not much, but his biggest impression didn't come from what he owned but how he acted." She paused, clearly having trouble. "He…he had great respect for Balos and its people, so I wanted to say goodbye in the Balosian tradition. We don't bury his stuff, but give it to his friends."

She took the watch from the bag, still reeking a little of sterilization fluid.

"Freddy." She held it out to Garibaldi. "He would have wanted you to keep this. Paul made a lot of money, but he always wore this old watch. It meant something to him."

"Then it means something to me." Garibaldi took it.

"I want to give his rifle to the whole Platoon, maybe mount it in your barracks back home or something?"

"Sure, I'll make sure of it." Garibaldi confirmed.

"Francis, he gave you the Tommy gun." Jenny changed her gaze. "You should keep it, use it."

"I will." He nodded.

"I'm going to give his ship to his crew, Jors and Toby." She closed her eyes. "They don't even now he's gone."

She inhaled sharply, keeping herself grounded.

"Everything else, I don't know, I guess I'll keep it. Maybe not the money, I don't know."

"You can think about it later." Garibaldi comforted. "Little steps, okay?"

She nodded.

"Paul came here to do something worth while. He wanted to help the Balosians, he'd seen what the Dilgar did to civilians and he wanted to help, to make a difference to someone. He did, he made a difference to us here, even to Commander Sinclair who barely knew him, just fought with him once engaging the Dilgar advanced cruiser a few months ago. He did make a difference."

She closed up the bag and its remaining contents.

"He died here fighting to free Balos, and fighting to protect his friends. He wasn't a soldier, but I think if he could have chosen a way to die that would have been his second choice, after old age or something. His life meant something to us, and his death meant something too. He's gone, but he won't be forgotten by any of us. Never."

They stood there quietly, the trickling water the only sound.

"Goodbye Paul." Jenny said with great effort. "Find peace."

They held a moment more silence, and then the Balosians slammed their spears into the ground five times, the noise echoing in the hollow. Then that was all, they walked with a stately poise away from the scene, and Jenny went with them, acknowledging words of support on the way.

"Jenny." Francis said. "Back in school, in history, I heard something some guy had said. If you're going through hell, keep going."

She nodded and gave him a quick smile. "That's pretty good."

"Because if you stop, then you're stopping in hell you see."

"Yeah Francis, I got it." She grinned, a small hint of the old Jenny breaking through. "Thanks, really."

"We're here if you need us."

"I know, but not just yet."

She followed the two Balosian away, leaving the gathering to break up.

"That isn't healthy." Garibaldi said to Francis. "She needs to come back with us, be among friends."

"I know, but I guess it's easier to grieve among strangers." Francis said. "We'd remind her of Paul every time she looked at us."

"Yeah, guess so." Garibaldi recognised. "Still, you see those teeth?"

"Gave me the creeps." He admitted. "Not like her, she never took that sort of pride in what she did before."

"That we know of anyway." Garibaldi corrected. "Ah, I don't know, it's just her, you're right."

"She needs time." Francis said. "But we gotta keep her on board, keep her grounded in who she is."

"Yeah, I guess talk to her now and again?"

"Right." Franci agreed. "Nothing heavy, just talk."

There was a scrabbling from the slope behind him, and a curse as a young soldier put his hand in the freezing stream water.

"Can we help you there?" Garibaldi addressed the young man, who quickly looked at Francis.

"Agent O'Leary?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"General Biek's compliments, he needs at command. We've got a signal."

"You got through? We thought the receiver at Comac was gone!" Francis grinned.

"It's not from Comac sir, it's in orbit, you better come quick, they might not be up there for long."

The vessel folded in two like paper, its underside split open leaking flames and smoke as its bow and stern rose up until they touched each other like some bizarre and gigantic work of art. The red lit contortion crackled with smaller explosions as the grey sharks of Earth Force cruised past and looked for more prey.

"Fresh contacts closing on our station." Commander Salah checked his data. "Enemy cruisers."

"Turn us toward, ready bow batteries." Captain Manly 'Manny' Power of the EAS Temeraire announced clearly and precisely, his highly trained crew swinging the battlecruiser onto its new course. "Standby lasers and plasma cannons, interceptors fire at will."

It was good to be back on the line, back in action and doing something useful. Manny had been in dry dock for months after his hard fought duel with the Dilgar advanced battlecruiser Vanquisher, a top of the line Sekhmet that had come close to destroying his warship. The Temeraire had been badly shot up, but thanks to its modular construction was recoverable and after a hasty patch job she was back in battle. She was the same old ship, but over sixty percent of her was entirely new, which amused the Captain a little, referring to the repairs as a little 'Nip and tuck with a facelift' when asked by his comrades.

The Temeraire looked brand new, a gleaming hull with few tarnishes or signs of wear which may have lulled opponents into a false sense of security if not for the highly accurate gunfire and expert manoeuvring of the Hecate class battlecruiser.

She was not alone over Balos, her twin sister the EAS Thunderchild was also coming around, happy to support her hunting partner as Dilgar ships closed into range. Finally six Artemis frigates also accompanied the group along with forty Starfuries launched from a carrier that had stayed behind in hyperspace. The force was a basic wolfpack, a heavy raiding force designed to tear up some Dilgar ships and then break for hyperspace before the enemy responded in force. Fast, well armed and geared for heavy combat at any range they were a formidable presence. However the raid was not their main reason for being here.

"Try the signal again." Manny ordered. "Try and contact army command, see if the are still down there."

From beside him the communications officer began cycling the frequency, trying to break through the heavy jamming. They were very close to the planet, just outside effective range of the defence grid but they were still having trouble making contact. Since the loss of Atlantis station and the powerful communication suite the station held there had been no contact with Balos, for all Earth knew the enclave might already have been overrun. Manny had to find out.

"Enemy ships in range."

The Captain brought his attention back to the more immediate issue.

"Forward guns, fire for effect. Target weak points and hit them until they burn up."

Francis skidded as he ran, his left leg lurching out and almost pitching him to the floor as he fought to keep his balance and maintain his pace. He scrambled along, spotting the familiar command truck in the distance and bolting for it before the signal faded. He noticed General Biek and Captain Franklin were already there waiting for him.

"Francis, glad you could make it." Biek welcomed him sternly. "Your equipment is set up, just needs the magic touch."

The Agent stopped beside a fold out table, the radio set was there and active, its dials and switches illuminated while wires and cables led to a large silver transmitter mast. It was already crackling and whining, an indication someone was trying to get through, but Francis had to tune it in and clear the signal.

He quickly cycled the frequencies, bouncing his signal off a Dilgar jammer ship to boost its strength and bypass the jamming, a complex and tricky move that took great precision and timing, but which Francis managed without great difficulty.

"Danny boy calling Earth units, respond, over." He spoke into the device. "Earth units, receive."

There was a loud roar of static before a distorted voice replied.

"This is Manny, good to hear a friendly voice down there!"

Franklin and Biek shared a triumphant laugh. "Nice work Francis."

"Thank you sir." The Agent nodded, then responded to the warship. "Likewise Manny, glad to see we haven't been forgotten."

"Not anytime soon." The Captain replied. "I'm here to check your status?"

"Situation is stable." Francis said. "We are dug in and secure, no major enemy assaults at this time."

"Roger that." Manny answered, a dull echo behind him telling the military officers listening in that the ship was neck deep in hostiles. "We lost Atlantis, cutting communication links with you."

"Received." Francis stated.

"Atlantis station?" Biek grunted. "Most of our supplies were tied up there. Check their status."

"Manny, Archangel requests Fleet Status, over."

"Fleet is active and fully supplied, thank the Belters for that one." The orbiting officer answered. "We have not abandoned you."

"We're glad to hear it."

"I have a message from Hannibal to Archangel, personal communication."

Biek leaned over. "Go ahead."

"Remember Market Garden and Chinook, they share something Hannibal and you will share too."

"Confirmed." Biek stated. "Give Hannibal my regards."

"Will do." Manny answered, his ship rocking and shaking, the vibrations running through his chair and his bones.

A hammer stroke echoed through the ship, followed by a loud creaking of metal that continued for several seconds.

"Watch that flank!" Manny noticed. "I see a Destroyer down there, you can bet he'll try and hit us."

"Detailing plasma cannons, feeding target data through." Saleh worked. "Yes, there she goes, she's turning toward!"

"Too late kitty, nail it."

Four of the plasma turrets swung around, lowering their barrels to catch the Dilgar warship. They at once opened fire, long bright blasts of blue energy crossed space and peppered the Dilgar destroyer, each shot impacting in a halo of blue followed by splashes of red and orange as the hull melted and the heat set alight the air within the enemy ship. Within three seconds every corner of the Dilgar vessel was lifeless, either blasted open to space or heated to an incredible degree, cooking the crew in moments. The ship held its course, but with no one to control it was not a threat.

"Another bites the dust." Saleh reported with pride. "Taskforce reports enemy ships in this area destroyed sir."

"Gives us a little breathing space." Manny nodded. "Earth ship to Danny boy, still receiving?"

"Still here." The voice returned.

"Current news is that Allied forces have achieved a victory at Tithalis in Drazi space. Enemy fleets will not be able to combine above Balos."

"Understood." Francis answered gratingly.

"Enemy losses for this campaign stand at seven thousand ships, I repeat, Seven Thousand."

"Good tally up there, over."

"We did our part." Manny answered. "We estimate three thousand hostiles remain. At current kill to loss ration our fleet will be able to easily defeat them."

Manny left out a few details, such as the crust cracking missiles which he was unaware of, or the superior training of the remaining Dilgar ships, which he was informed of and slightly worried about. The numbers were smaller, but properly led those three thousand remaining ships would be worth twice their number of fresh ships.

"Got it." Francis confirmed.

"Make sure the news is passed around down there." Manny said, knowing that the enemy losses would boost morale among the embattled troops.

"We will, over."

The Temeraire suddenly bucked hard, rising a dozen yards and finding itself on a new course.

"That was unpleasant." Manny grimaced.

"Enemy Dreadnought just came into range! She was using the moon as cover!" Saleh barked.

"Great." Manny sighed with a shake of the head.

The Mishakur class ship edged menacingly into the open, long cannons moving fractionally to track the moving target, staying aligned with the EA battlecruiser. She fired again, heavy bolt cannons searing through the black and narrowly caught by the interceptors before they impacted. Even with her armour and impressive firepower, Manny didn't want to risk duelling a Dreadnought so far from home by himself.

"Get the Thunderchild on the line, coordinate fire." Manny snapped. "We'll hit that big cat together. Frigates cover us."

"This is Danny Boy, what's happening up there?"

"Just give me a minute Danny," The Captain spoke into the comms system. "I'm putting you on hold, please stay on the line."

The Earth ship turned around to face the Dilgar ship, both vessels exchanging laser fire. The Temeraire suffered a long graze down her flank, the gleaming armour melting and ripping as the energy coursed along it. In retaliation the Dilgar dreadnought lost one of its forward mandibles which included one of its own laser cannons, the Earth Force beams converging and slicing neatly through the enemy ship like it was made of wax.

"Thunderchild coming up on the port side!" Saleh called. "She's firing now."

Beside the Temeraire her sister ship queued a line of plasma blasts into the enemy Dreadnought, followed up by a strike from her flank laser turrets. Several particle bolts hurtled past, but only one buried itself into the ship with a thud and snap as it crushed the hangar deck.

"Bring us under the enemy Dreadnought, open up the A-Arcs and barrage fire, all guns, point blank solution."

In unison the two Battlecruisers advanced side by side five hundred miles apart, crossing on either side of the Dilgar ship beneath it forming a shallow delta shape with the Dilgar Dreadnought at the apex. The cruisers rolled so their upper decks were facing the enemy ship, their dorsal and flank guns elevating while the helm officer presented the best aspect allowing the maximum number of guns to gain a clear shot. Then they both fired.

The convergence of fire ripped into the Dilgar ship, engulfing it in flame. She was an old Dreadnought, well built and well protected but against this weight of fire even the first rate warship could not last long. Her structure bent and fell apart in a crescendo of illumination, a stationary fire work display burning and flashing as her internal systems detonated and cast severed parts of the hull into the void in spinning flames. By the time the ships turned away only an inferno remained.

"Watch that cruiser force." Manny went back on the lookout. "Put our bow towards them, they're closing fast."

The two battlecruisers arched their way through space, a smaller battle taking place around them as fighters rolled past and exchanged blue and orange fire. Like the warships picked for the raid, the Fury squadrons were an elite among Earth Force and were so far giving a good account of themselves focusing purely on protecting the capital ships.

"There are a lot more enemy ships on the way." Saleh warned. "I think we stirred the hornet's nest."

"How many?"

"Over a hundred sir."

"Oh good, now they take us seriously." Manny smiled. "Alright, begin jump preparations."

Power began to be transferred from the reserves to the Jump engines, the powerful and volatile devices energising deep in the armoured box of the two battlecruisers.

"Manny to Danny boy, this party is getting dull for us, we're going to crash somebody else's."

"I hear you Manny, thanks for dropping by."

"Any last messages for command?"

"Just one, tell Hannibal the enemy is not a Hydra, imitate Perseus."

"That all?"

"That's all Manny."

"Very well, we'll be seeing you again soon. Earth Force out."

The message ended.

"Cryptic aren't they?" Saleh posited.

"In case the Dilgar overhear us I suppose." Manny shrugged. "Leave it for the Admiral, Jump status?"

"Ready to go."

"Inform the fleet, time to bail out."

The Temeraire fired a parting volley, a laser shot punching deep into a Dilgar cruiser and opening its oxygen processors up. A vast gust of white gas poured out from the side like a thrusters, launching the ship in a flat spin and putting it out of action as the crew fought to regain control.

"Jump systems online." Saleh said. "Opening vortex."

The two heavy ships opened the glowing portals and held them for the none jump capable Frigates. The smaller ships rapidly moved to escape, aware of the stress it was putting on the jump engines of the cruisers. The Starfuries were first through, a wing of Thoruns taking the opportunity to launch a volley of anti ship missiles at the withdrawing ships. Such a move had however been anticipated, and the frigates fired a last salvo of canister shot from their aft guns, the cone of expanding shrapnel smashing the missiles and many of the fighters behind.

"Small ships are clear."

"Take us home." Manny ordered. Well done people, nice reminder for kitty that we're still in this fight. Now, take us home."

"There they go." Francis said. "Signal is gone."

"Sounds like they did some damage up there." Captain Franklin nodded. "Give kitty a bloody nose."

"And more than that, they reopened contact." Biek said. "We need to start mobilising, when the fleet arrives we need to set Balos on fire, help out in any way we can."

"General, my Colonel can bring his whole regiment to the jump off point with just two hours notice." Franklin said in his business voice. "Our Balosian allies have marked the best routes, and we were lucky in taking light losses on the way in."

"I've had the Balosians scout your primary objective." The General stated. "This fortress here, home to the local planetary defence cannon."

Franklin narrowed his eyes, glancing at the electronic map. "That looks tough, without artillery those bunkers and fixed defences will slaughter us."

"If you attack overland, yes." Biek nodded. "Very formidable defences, but all facing outward or upward. The 99th will be attacking from a different direction. Underneath."

Franklin broke into a mean smile. "Outstanding sir."

"Major Strylek has picked out a route in the tunnel system leading into the compound, you'll enter through three locations here, here and here. They'll never see you coming."

"I can tell my people are going to love this, they've been itching for some payback lately."

"You're about to get your chance, we all are." Biek nodded. "The whole army is going to attack, disrupt enemy positions and facilities down here to help the boys and girls in blue. Airfields, defence sites, command facilities. They'll be so busy looking up they'll never see us coming up out of the ground by their feet. Then we show them a little vengeance."

"Wait, sir." Francis raised a point. "Isn't this a bit premature? We don't even know when they're going to attack?"

"Yes we do." Biek grinned. "The message, something shared by Market Garden, Chinook, and us."

"I meant to ask what that was about."

"Market Garden was the code name for a campaign in World War Two, a major airborne attack." Biek explained. "Captain Franklin's parent division, the 101st took part in it. Operation Chinook was the Chinese attack into Northern India that turned the Indo-Pakistani war into World War Three."

"So what do they have in common?" Francis asked.

Biek looked to Franklin. "Captain?"

"Both operations started on September the seventeenth."

"And that," Biek grinned. "Is when Hamato is going to hit Balos. The seventeenth of next month."

Francis frowned. "Sooner than I expected."

"It is, but so much the better. Hamato knows what he is doing, if he's attacking now he has his reasons. We'll be ready."

"We'll take the fort sir." Franklin said. "The Seventeenth is plenty of time to prepare."

"I believe it." Biek nodded in confidence. "We've got our deadline gentlemen, they're coming for us. Lets make sure they have a warm reception when they get into orbit."

Camelot Station

Brakir

The image froze over a puddle of glowing yellow on the surface of the planet, tiny from a distance but hundreds of miles across in truth. It sat on the world like a bullet wound leaking vital fluids onto the surface, burning and scouring everything beneath it.

"Now you know what I know." Admiral Hamato delivered flatly, standing by the display screen. "The Dilgar have a new weapon, a missile of unprecedented power. Just one of these could do untold damage to any of our worlds, if mass fired they can kill all life on their target for millions of years. Maybe forever."

Before him gathered at the meeting table sat a mix of Ambassadors and Naval Commanders, all staring in horror and shock at the image. Even the hardened military staff were shaken by the news.

"The question is obvious, but I ask it anyway." Hamato continued. "What do we do next?"

"When will the Dilgar be ready to deploy these devices?" Grand Master Valna asked uncomfortably.

"By the end of next month, ships permitting." Hamato answered. "That is by Dilgar estimates."

"Doesn't give us much time to act." Raised David Sheridan, the human Ambassador to the League.

"We need to do something by the middle of September at the latest." Hamato agreed. "Any longer and we risk facing these weapons in action."

Xyten of the Vree activated his translator, the tiny alien filtering his brain waves into an acoustic voice.

"How did they develop these devices?"

"We don't know." Hamato said, which wasn't entirely truthful. "We believe they are reverse engineered technology, not a natural Dilgar development. Too big of a leap."

"With this sort of power they could end resistance on Balos in five minutes." Sheridan said. "They could win the war."

"Unless we do something to stop them." Hamato nodded.

"We know the Dilgar have the will to wipe out entire civilizations on a whim." Representative Brocat shared his thoughts. "Now they have the ability to do it without a massive fleet and several days of attacks. That power in anyone's hands is unacceptable, but in Dilgar hands, it could spell the end of a free galaxy."

"They must be building them somewhere." Itala of the Abbai observed. "Any idea where?"

"Locating this facility is the top priority of Earth Intelligence." Hamato affirmed. "They have their full efforts on it right now, and I have already selected the appropriate strike package."

"Which is?"

"Earth Force has been holding a small number of high yield strategic nukes in reserve, each weapon has a super dense nosecone designed to punch through half a mile of bedrock, then detonate with about a thousand megatons of force."

Itala nodded uncomfortably. "I have seen the Dilgar use similar weapons."

"It isn't Earth policy to hold strategic reserves of such weapons," Sheridan answered for Hamato. "But it's only common sense to have some available. These devices can destroy a whole country, but we would only use them as a last resort."

"We were holding them to defeat Dilgar command bunkers on Omelos." Hamato said. "They are deeply buried and very heavily armoured. However in the current situation, General Denisov has released them to us to use against this base wherever it is."

"Then I suppose it is the best option." Itala conceded. "And a wise investment."

"There is more though." Hamato drew his unreadable eyes across the group. "We can't guarantee finding the base in time, therefore we must take preventative action before then."

"What sort of action?"

"We need to take Balos, and we need to do it in the next two weeks."

Silence greeted him, the sort of silence that arrived when people replayed words in their head to see if they really had heard them.

"Two weeks?" Admiral Broma asked, the Brakiri officer in a well turned out uniform.

"Two weeks." Hamato confirmed.

"Can't be done." The officer dismissed. "Impossible."

"I have already prepared and begun enacting a timetable." Hamato said evenly. "By September seventeenth will be in battle once more with the Dilgar Grand Fleet."

"Forgive me, I'm not a General or Admiral." Itala said. "But I thought we couldn't attack for at least two months?"

"We can't." Broma said. "Not if we want to live."

"The original timetable was dependant on reinforcements from Earth." Hamato said. "In one month we will have a thousand Cruisers, Frigates and Corvettes leaving the shipyards. In two months we will have over fifty Dreadnoughts. Our aim was to wait for those ships to deploy out here, and then attack in overwhelming force. Unfortunately that plan is now in tatters."

"So what is the new plan?"

"We will still receive help from Earth, the bulk of the First and Second fleets are being deploye don Presidential authourity. Approximately seven hundred first rate warships, enough to cover the losses of the latest battle. We are also bringing the survivors of General Hernandez's fleet to the battle."

"Hernandez took a hell of a beating." Sheridan said warily. "Most of them are still well below full efficiency."

"I am aware of that, but one damaged ship in action is worth a thousand ships sat in dock."

"Admiral," Valna asked a question. "Weren't the human fleets you have called for defending Earth?"

"They were, yes." Hamato nodded. "But given the new critical situation they have been sent here to join the battle. The new builds from the yards will be deployed at home instead, and we'll keep the First and Second fleets out here."

"But those ships aren't built yet."

"I know." Hamato nodded. "A quarter of the fleets will stay behind to maintain the illusion of a strong presence, but most patrol duties will go to the reactivated mothball fleet."

Sheridan cleared his throat. "Those ships were put in mothballs for a reason Admiral, most of them are over fifty years old."

"We know, but the Joint Chiefs are willing to take the chance."

"For two weeks the Earth Alliance borders will be patrolled by obsolete vessels!" Broma exclaimed. "What if those Ch'lonas attack? Or by the comet, what if the Narn sense your weakness?"

"It is a risk we will have to take." Hamato stated. "The alternative is too disastrous to contemplate."

"Let us agree that the Earth ships arrive." Xyten modulated his voice. "We must still defeat Jha'dur, who has turned back two larger assaults."

"I am aware of that."

"And without a forward base we will need to launch from Brakir, forcing us to travel twice as far, expend twice as much fuel, and expect our tired crews to fight a massive battle at the end of it."

"That's right."

"And you believe we can actually win this?"

"I firmly do." Hamato confirmed. "Time is against us, but the Dilgar are in a precarious position. Victory in the last battle cost them over half of their entire navy, half their entire remaining fleet. Consider that for a second. Then consider that after the raid on Tithalis Warmaster Dar'sen cannot leave his position and reinforce Jha'dur, that was her only hope of replenishing her forces and matching our strengths. She can't replace her losses, she is selling her fleet to buy time, and that tells us what she is afraid of. Running out of time."

"There is no guarantee we can win!" Broma stated loudly.

"There never is, but we must try or watch all we have sacrificed in this war come to nothing. I am not about to allow that." Hamato spoke with a rare passion. "Jha'dur needs to prolong the attack, to wear down our morale until we are forced to give up. She only needs to hold for another month and she's won, she will be unassailable and if she demonstrates these missiles in public on Balos, no one will dare stand up to her again. If we do not attack in two weeks, we will never get another chance."

"Admiral, you can see our point of view." Itala said more calmly. "We have fought Jha'dur for a long time, we have watched her defeat race after race. You earned many victories over her, but now she is beating you too and it is turning back into the same old pattern. Humans are great soldiers, but this is Deathwalker, she always wins in the end."

"Not this time."

"We have precious few ships, you are asking us to gamble our entire fleets on this battle without any real planning and no massive reinforcements." Broma pointed out. "We can't win!"

"But we can go into battle, we can fight, and we can try." Hamato said. "That is what I need from you all."

The room was still divided, some seemed swayed but others were not. Hamato did have one last argument to deliver, a last few words to push the hesitators.

"Earlier today we launched a raid on Balos to attempt to make contact with our people on the planet. It was a success, and furthermore we received this information from an EIA Agent on the planet."

He pressed a button by the screen and an audio track played, distorted by jamming but still clear.

"Tell Hannibal the enemy is not a Hydra, imitate Perseus."

Hamato took in the blank looks.

"It is a code, a reference to Earth mythology to hide the real message." He informed. "The Hydra was a mythical beast that grew two new heads for every one that was cut off."

The room listened, especially the League representatives.

"Perseus was from a different myth, his great story involved slaying Medusa, the Gorgon. Medusa was a monstrous Warrior Queen, to imitate him we would have to slay our own monstrous Warrior Queen."

"You mean Jha'dur?" Valna asked.

"That is I believe the key to the message." Hamato nodded.

"So how did this Perseus do it?"

"He cut off her head."

"Well, that sounds like a good plan!" Valna laughed. "I volunteer to do it, but how do we get to her?"

"I think it is a little deeper than that, our man is telling us how to beat her in battle." Hamato continued. "Cut off the head, decapitate the fleet. He's telling us the key to victory is killing Jha'dur."

"Not a great revelation." Broma shook his head.

"No, but if I was to fall in battle I can rely on my subordinates to fight the battle just as well in my stead. I would be replaced, if the Earth fleet was decapitated a new head would grow in its place."

"Like a Hydra." Sheridan smiled widely. "But the Dilgar aren't like Hydras."

"If they are decapitated, no new head will sprout in its place, no subordinate will be skilled enough to take over. Kill Jha'dur, and the Dilgar fleet dissolves. After that its just a question of picking them off."

It was a realisation Francis had come to in the tunnels of Balos. He had been looking for something defining, something unquestionable about how the enemy worked. Ari'shan, a man who was as close to Jha'dur as anyone had not told him any details that he craved, but did say one thing. She was a Perfectionist.

That rang a bell in his mind, but it took some time and research to understand exactly what it meant. A perfectionist tries to do everything themselves, unwilling to trust some delicate or important task to another for fear it will be ruined. It explained why Jha'dur led from the head of a fleet and not from a chair on Omelos. It revealed why she remained active in the field of scientific research even on campaign. It told him why she pushed herself, why she set up obstacles deemed impossible only to overcome them. It unlocked her thoughts, and withthat key Francis could look at every scrap of intelligence they had on the Warmaster in a new light and see the pattern.

The final step was to analyse the battle sin orbit fed through the Battlenet before Atlantis station was lost cutting his rigged transmitter off from the galaxy. He identified Jha'dur's command ship and noticed a lot of signals traffic which was not unusual for a command ship, but in this case the sheer volume was staggering. He saw a clear pattern between outgoing signals and changes in formation and attack patterns across the fleet, even relatively minor changes that would be handled by junior officers in the Earth Force hierarchy.

It told him that everything in this battle had to go through Jha'dur. She coordinated almost single handed the entire fleet, told it where and when to attack or withdraw, which formation to take and what sections of the Alliad fleet to concentrate on. The precision and application of forces that had given the Dilgar victory was down to Jha'dur alone, everything needed her say or approval before it was implemented. She was the heart of the fleet, the keystone. Remove her and it all falls apart.

"So that is where we stand." Hamato concluded. "Our ships are damaged, our crews strained and exhausted, our reinforcements far less than hoped. We have to travel several days before we even reach battle, and our enemy is made up of the best crews in the galaxy. We went in with more ships, fresh crews, fully operational ships and a single jump to cross and we got mauled. Now we're doing it in a far worse state, and we have to win."

"You are asking us for the impossible." Broma stated.

"I am asking one thing." Hamato countered. "Come with me. Earth Force is going, whether we live or die we are going to offer battle and we won't come back unless we win. Our objective is to kill one person, the one person most responsible for the grief that has afflicted your worlds. I am asking the League to join Earth, to stand with us now as we stood with you. If we lose, the war is over, if we refuse to fight, the war is over. It is a chance at victory, just a chance, but it's better than sitting here and watching the Dilgar become the dominant power in this galaxy."

Hamato looked around the table with a narrow smile.

"This will be the battle that will decide the war. Who will stand with me?"

Without hesitation Master Valna stood.

"The Markab are with you, to the death or the glory, we will fight!"

"As will the Cascor, Jha'dur will not survive our vengeance!"

"The Vree recognize this is a necessary situation. We will join."

Finally Representative Brocat stood, looked to Admiral Broma, then at Hamato. After Earth Force and the Vree the Brakiri had the largest force in the Liberation Navy, a very important component of the battlegroups.

"After listening to the concerns of the fleet." Brocat said calmly. "I have decided. We will send every ship we have."

Hamato actually broke a smile.

"Deathwalker must be stopped, or billions more will perish." The Brakiri leader nodded. "We will do our part."

"Very well." Hamato said with great joy and pride, seeing in front of him the very best of what this war had offered. A united and dedicated force from a half dozen worlds ready to risk their lives for each other. It was a rare and miraculous thing, something humanity had been crucial in creating.

"Two weeks from now, we go to battle and decide by our bravery what the galaxy will look like next year."


	92. Chapter 92

90

Brakir

Allied Fleet

"Nah, they didn't hit us so bad."

Captain Joe Tennant looked through the shuttle windows, peering at the black bulk of his ship outside. Before him the rough hull was torn apart, a fifty yard wide hole in the flank exposing piping and cargo bays, brightly coloured pallets still visible in some of the bays tied firmly to the walls and floor.

"Lick of paint, bit of padding, she'll be fine."

Commander Simon Anderson was used to this by now, the eccentricities of his Captain and odd relationship he enjoyed with the Dreadnought he commanded.

"With respect Captain, we've got more holes in us than my ex-wife's divorce proceedings."

"Oh yeah, how did that go?" The Captain wondered with some interest.

"She was caught on camera cheating with…" He paused. "Eight other men."

"Well, she had quite an appetite."

Anderson kept a dead straight face. "And two other women."

"Not too picky." Tennant said with a crunched brow. "I mean she chose you to marry."

"Thank you sir, I now feel much better."

"Well it's what I'm here for, to not just be your Captain but your friend too. And to judge you and your appalling taste in slappers. I mean wives."

"I only had to see her once every six months, which was a relief." Anderson admitted. "Of course during that time she became to local bike."

"The what?"

"Everyone gets a ride."

Tennant shook his head. "Well, what a lovely image. Why don't you brief me on the supply situation while I try and clean out my memory of the last three minutes."

Anderson dug up his personal computer, relieved to be moving away from the utter disaster that masqueraded as his home life. Given a choice of facing his former wife of Deathwalker he knew which he'd go for. At least Dilgar poison was something you could try and avoid.

"All systems are ready, tanks are full, and our hangar deck stocked." Anderson said. "We have the Ghost Riders back on board."

"Now that's just spiffy." Tennant grinned. "Best pilots on the best warship. Match made in Valhalla. How is Sinclair?"

Anderson adopted a blank expression.

"I'm afraid Commander Sinclair is posted as missing in action."

The dark eyed Captain gave him a disbelieving look. "David Sinclair? Missing?"

"Yes sir, after the last battle."

"Well." Tennant looked back out of the window, rather deflated. "Never thought I'd see that happen."

"Lot of people fell sir. Lot of good officers." Anderson remarked sombrely. "Captain Brixton, from the Chimera."

"Yes, I remember him, he had that absolutely massive moustache." Tennant felt a small smile on his face. "Like a squirrel was trying to hide nuts up his nose."

"My first commanding officer." Anderson nodded. "He bought it in the last fight, damn suicide ship."

"I know. I heard."

"Captain Sakura too, her Dreadnought got jumped by sixteen enemy ships."

"She nailed thirteen of them."

"But not the others." Anderson said. "Captain Fallow, Commander De'Laney, Captain Yoshi, Captain Abraham. Those are just the ones I've served with. Long list."

"Lot of names, lot of faces too." Tennant agreed with a heavy voice. "It's a real war Commander, people die, people we know."

"Yes sir." Anderson nodded. "Doesn't mean we have to accept it."

"I have no intention of accepting it." Tennant said coldly. "I'm going to make sure each of those names is carved into the hull of a Dilgar capital ship. I shall make it my personal mission in life to continue their good work and kill the ships they would have done if they were still around."

"That could be a lot of ships sir."

"I like a challenge. Especially one involving random violence and destruction of property."

"Yes sir."

"Sort of a reward in itself." Tennant nodded. "So we're ready for battle?"

"Yes sir." Anderson confirmed. "Despite the numerous holes in the outer hull."

"Just a flesh wound, a mere scratch." The Captain waved away the report. "Take more than that to keep Lady Nemesis from her prize."

"We did have one more thing." Anderson took the helm, moving the shuttle across the hull towards the front of the ship. "Now for the record, I have nothing to do with this."

"With what?" Tennant gave him a sharp stare. "Commander?"

"Not my fault." He said.

"What happened, did someone do something to my ship?"

"Technically, it was the maint-bots." Anderson explained. "But they were programmed by the workers at Camelot station."

Tennant's muscles tautened in his face. "They do know I am an actual qualified Maori warrior?"

"Yes sir."

"I'll stick a wooden spear so far up their…"

"Yes sir, but err, well, see for yourself."

Beyond the window the blank hull of the ship's forward section passed by, the slightly different shades of grey showing where different thicknesses of paint had been laid, or different cans of not quite matching colour had been placed next to each other. It was a common enough pattern, coupled with a film of grime and carbon picked up during the last battle to give the ship a darker more menacing look.

They crossed under the forward guns, the titanic twin turrets hanging silent on the side of the ship, their muzzles silver where the heat had stripped the paint and left bare metal exposed to space. They passed the crest of the Earth Alliance, rich blue edged in bright yellow herelading their allegiance and homeworld, scored and burned but still clear and stirring. They dropped down the forward hull, past the slanted armour plates enclosing the plasma cannons, jump projectors and long range sensor booms until arriving at almost the lowest point of the ship.

Here the grey hull was usually marked with a single giant letter, a pennant code announcing which division the vessel belonged to. Normally the letter tended to be the same as the first letter of the warships name, in this case a large 'N' for Nemesis. However the letter was gone in this case, painted out by the maintenance crews as the ship sat over Brakir making basic repairs.

"I had nothing to do with it." Anderson repeated, looking at the paint on the lower hull of the ship.

Tennant stared wide eyed at the hull, not frowning or smiling just staring. Before him was a bright white Skull and Crossbones, a huge grinning visage with a crack in the top of the skull and black empty eye holes staring out. A common symbol, but rarely painted so large.

"It is completely against regulations." Anderson remarked. "If the Admiral sees it we're in big trouble."

"I like trouble." Tennant said with unusual quiet. "This is the most magnificent thing I've seen."

"Sir?"

"The techs just did this? No one put them up to it?

"Yes sir, just painted it right on."

Tennant broke into a massive grin. "Damn those guys, but that's just the best thing ever. Look what they did to my girl! They gave her a bad arse tattoo!"

"Captain, sir…"

"They must have heard about our battle flags, and gave us a permanent Jolly Roger. So now it's not just us, everyone can us now, they'll know its us going into battle."

"I'm not sure about this sir…"

"It's the best gift ever. Those guys on the station, they did this for us to make a difference, this is a little bit of them going into battle with us. A ship has a crew, guns and paint, but this isn't a ship, this is the Lady Nemesis, and she has spirit, and soul. That bit of paint, that is spirit Commander. Guns and armour don't win battles, spirit does, and my girl here has more spirit and pride than the entire Dilgar navy. We're going to kick some major arse this time."

Anderson looked at his Captain and paused. "is that a tear sir?"

"No!" Tennant replied turning away. "Just my allergies…to…air."

"Aye sir."

"Land us Commander." Tennant said, feeling very humbled and touched by the gesture from the repair crews. "We have to get going, the Dilgar are preparing a ball for my girl, can't be late."

Anderson brought the shuttle up and entered the flight bay, crossing through the double doors and placing the boxy craft down on one of the pads which was then carried away through an airlock into the docking section itself. The two officers vacated the shuttle and using the guide lines dragged themselves through the zero gravity to the inner airlocks, and from there into the arteries of the ship itself.

"Sir, we need to take corridor B." Anderson redirected.

"Why not Corridor A?"

"It now leads to the big hole in Beta section."

"Right." Tennant changed course. "Useful safety tip, well done Commander."

"My job sir."

They floated through the ship, through square corridors and past various rooms and stations, the relatively small crew at their stations making final checks for departure.

"How's things Lieutenant Bolton?" Tennant called as he cruised past a bank of terminals near the bridge.

"Ready and willing sir!" He called back. "See the new paint job sir?"

"Hell yeah! Exactly what we needed, there'll be no stopping us this time!"

He opened the bridge doors and glided in, the crews stopping to acknowledge his entry.

"Back to work guys and girls." Tennant said with a smile. "And yes, I saw our new pennant."

A round of grins and laughs circled the bridge, lightening the atmosphere.

"How's stuff Jacky?"

"All guns primed sir." The weapons officer said. "We didn't lose a single one in combat, we've still got all our firepower."

"Well we'll have something to point it at soon. Engines Helen?"

"Fully operational for a change Captain."

"Outstanding."

"We have our orders from Command." Anderson said, checking the first report on his station. "We are to proceed tot he start off point and initiate jump on Admiral Hamato's orders."

"That's all I need to hear." Tennant nodded. "Payback's a bitch, and her name is Nemesis."

The crew grinned in agreement, each by now used to their slightly eccentric commander and his charismatic approach to command.

"We're going back to Balos." Tennant said. "We're going back because we didn't finish the job, we left a lot of our own people there. We left a lot of ships, lot of friends and they deserve to be brought home. We have lives invested, blood has been given to take that system and we can't waste it."

He paused, letting a thin smile emerge.

"Though the real reason is because of an insult. You see we all know that Lady Nemesis is the undisputed Queen Bitch of the universe and she accepts no rivals. Turns out some Dilgar chick called Jha'dur thinks that she's the Queen Bitch, and we can't just let that go unanswered. So we're having a little showdown, the Queen and the pretender. Isn't that so Commander?"

"If you say so sir."

"So in this competition, we have a half crazed woman from Omelos on one side, and on the other a fifty million ton space battleship with a skull painted on it." Tennant grinned widely. "Who would you bet on?"

"I always put my money on this ship and crew sir."

"Very good answer. Move us into position Helen, standby jump systems."

"Aye sir."

"My girl Nemesis has a score to settle. We all have." The Captain said seriously. "We all know people who didn't come back from the last battle, but their spirits are still out there, ready to give us purpose and support. We fight on because they can't. We will not fail."

The damaged ship, holed and covered in the ash of war took its place in the fleet alongside similarly dented and damaged vessels. They were a scarred fleet, hurting and tired, but they went to war with the vigour and determination of mythological heroes. The word had been given, the challenge had been set. One more battle, a battle that would break one side and give victory to the over immediately. The war hung by a thread, balanced precariously between both sides with no way to predict the result. The Allied fleet made its jump, quite possibly the last jump they would ever make, and set their faces to Balos and their hearts to home.

Battlecruiser Vendetta

Dilgar Grand Fleet.

She could feel eyes staring at her from the shadows, hard accusing stares focused on her back burning into her flesh with the ferocity of their gaze. If she turned to look at them, to glance into the corners of her dimly lit quarters they vanished, disappeared as if they were never there, but each time she turned back to her notes on the desk before her the eyes returned, resuming their eternal vigil of hatred and spite.

It was unnerving, creepy even, and the stares were as constant as her own heartbeat. They never left her, the last looks of the people she had killed, the final snapshot of life in their eyes vanishing like a bright flame extinguished in vacuum. Dull and empty, dead eyes in dead bodies staring right through her, only now she could feel the hate, she could sense the souls of the dead hovering about her demanding her life. She couldn't escape them, and while she could ignore them they were always there, an ever present reminder of what she had done.

Jha'dur did not especially care. She had long ago made peace with what she had to do and accepted it as a means to an end. She was fighting for something far beyond what any other race could achieve, a goal so lofty only the Dilgar as a species deserved to achieve it, the goal of eternity. It came in two parts, one part was the immortality serum she was very, very close to cracking which would give the individuals of her race eternal youth. The other more urgent part was to earn a military victory and relocate the best of her species from their doomed homeworld, the untrustworthy sun already rumbling and belching unusual flares and flames as its internal balance began to spiral out of control.

She had decided to do all she must to ensure both parts of her people's future, and once that choice was made there was no going back. She did not tolerate doubt, she had no regrets, she did not weep for lost opportunities or the mountains of dead aliens slain on her orders. They were obstacles, not people. They were test subjects, experiments, resources to be expended in search of scientific knowledge. No one bemoaned the fate of lab rats, and she did not shed a tear as she took apart living beings in the cold and clinical environment of Lab Nine.

Even so, while she fervently held to these beliefs, while she seldom if ever let the mask slip, while she was the Deathwalker, the murderer of worlds and most vilified and feared individual to walk the stars since the elder days, she was still flesh and blood. Beneath the confidence and bravado a small sliver of a soul still lived, buried by the life time of devastation and pain, it was there crying out to be heard. It seldom was, but sometimes when her mind was focused on the future, that voice from the past made itself heard.

Jha'dur sat back in her chair and looked sideways, the long mirror of her bedroom catching her eye for a second beyond the open doorway to her inner chambers. For a second she swore she saw people looking back at her, rank after rank of blank faced and empty eyed apparitions reflected in the mirror, each one a victim of her march to progress, each one tied to her like shackles to a condemned prisoner, waiting for her to fail. She would not give them the satisfaction.

She blinked, and in the mirror saw only herself. She watched the reflection, the blank face and empty eyes as dead as the apparitions her mind assaulted her with, as hollow and cold as any corpse she had seen or made. She was not even thirty seven years old yet, but in that time had done more than most people did in a thousand lifetimes. It had taken its toll, and those eyes were not hers anymore. They didn't have the light anymore, they didn't dance with wonder when she made a new discovery, they did not widen when she witnessed her lover step through the door. She did not soar in amazement at the glory and complexity of the universe, she didn't feel anything even though she was so amazingly close to fulfilling both of her life's ambitions.

She looked at her reflection, and saw death staring back at her.

She shouldn't honestly be surprised. For years death had been an obsession, her goal had been to master it in all its forms, to study it, apply it, command it and one day eventually defeat it. Almost all aspects of what she was, what she had become, revolved around the art of death. Even her name, her persona adopted to terrify her enemies, it had that same focus. People feared death, but they feared Jha'dur more right up to the point where death was seen as a far more pleasant alternative to just a few minutes of her attention in a laboratory somewhere.

It was said that it is better to be feared than to be loved, and right now it looked like Jha'dur was the most fearful object in the galaxy. League children went into fits of terror at the mere mention of her name, and most of the adults didn't fare much better. A reputation as a skilled war leader made enemies overly cautious when facing her, a hesitation she had exploited to earn victory and further garnish her legendary status. She was obeyed without question, to the point where thousands would sacrifice themselves on her word without question. She had no rivals, the established powers on Omelos were dead or gone and no one dared to take their place while she wielded power. Fear gave her total power over her race, she could do whatever she wanted to whoever she wanted, and yet it meant nothing to her. She used this power to achieve her two goals, to try and build and construct something, to make a future for her people. A future built on a hundred billion corpses.

She was feared, and it gave her the power to achieve her aims, but at the expense of everything else. Nobody spoke to her on a personal level anymore, her officers saluted, nervously delivered their reports, then left as fast as dignity allowed them. On busy streets people parted before her like the ocean parted for Moses in human Literature, a row of faces looking at her in awe before casting their eyes downwards for fear of causing some fatal offence. It was not a normal life, she could not interact with people in a normal way because they all quivered in terror and told her whatever they thought she wanted to hear so they could get away and live another day. It was an impossible way to exist, it wasn't life, it was something detached and alien. She was a figurehead, separate from the people of Omelos and she was there by her own hand.

Very few could still act normally around her, those who had been beside her since the early days. It was a small number to start with and after the long years of war it had been reduced to a mere three individuals, and one of them was missing in action. There was little that made her feel like a normal person anymore, and that slight personal contact, that briefest of genuine conversation with peers, that was her only finger hold to the real world that was otherwise detached from what she had become. Even her crews, the men and women she had lead in battle now followed through fear rather than respect, and when she learned that it had shaken her deeply and made her resolve to stop while she still had a scrape of feeling left within her.

She could hardly remember what it was like to live as a normal person, to exist before there was a war. It wasn't just the fighting, the command she had and the battles she fought, it went beyond the start of the war right back to that sunny day outside the science academy where Len'char had recruited her on the orders of Warmaster Gar'shan. After that day she had been dedicated body and soul to the cause of survival and put everything else on hold, indulging only briefly in a real personal life. That too had now gone, and all she had was her two goals. Survival and immortality. She had dedicated her life to those achievements, she had believed nothing else mattered, and now she was right because there was nothing else left to matter.

A lot of what she once was had been taken from her. Her family, her love, her mentor, all of it snatched away by fate. Everything around her that she associated with on a personal level was now gone, where she had once been surrounded by people who could help and support her now she had nothing and no one. She was alone and facing the defining moment of her life with no friends or relatives to see her and take some warm pride in how far she had come.

That affected her on a level far deeper than she cared to admit, and no matter what she ultimately achieved the fact that she had no one to share it with, no one to rejoice with because they were either dead or too scared to get to know her personally, that simple reality made everything she did seem ultimately worthless.

She was on the brink of attaining everything she had ever wanted, but to get there she had lost everything she had ever truly needed. It was perhaps a punishment from the universe for trying to do too much in one lifetime, for exceeding her station. When she started she had wanted nothing else, and now she had nothing else, and she knew how wrong she had been.

But Warmaster Jha'dur would never accept that. Whatever that thin remnant of a soul lamented over she was not going to stop, she would drive on like a juggernaut and crush everything in her path. Over the course of years she had faced many obstacles, both subtle and vast. None of them had survived her solutions.

She had disposed of her rivals for power, at first trying to work with them before realising the depth of their treachery and self serving natures. She enacted a final solution, eminently logical and scientific in its reasoning. They couldn't interfere with her goals, with the very survival of her race, if they were dead. Her mentor, Gar'shan, had approved, pleased at the progress of his prize pupil from dreamy eyed scientist to efficient weapon of war and politics. Jha'dur valued his praise above all else and enthusiastically followed his path, bending her great intellect to the mysteries of war and Government. She found herself in a world where the ruthless succeed and the meek are left for dead, and so her scientific mind logically pointed out that to achieve her ends she had to be the most ruthless person on Omelos or beyond. So that is what she did.

Thirteen years later that simple decision had burned a dozen worlds, killed Warmasters, sent billions to their doom and resulted in that unfamiliar set of eyes looking back at her from the mirror. The only memory she could still clearly hold onto from the early time was holding her brothers hand in winter, stood in front of two simple graves in front of grey snow topped mountains, with cold sleet settling on her shoulders and the freshly turned soil of her mother's resting place. It was a far more crushing memory to her than anything she had done since, any horror or questionable decision was nothing compared to the soul crushing feeling she had when that moment came to mind, as it now did very often.

She couldn't go back, and given what she had become she did not know if she could return to a normal life. That is why it was so important to her to step away from the military and give up politics. She still had that tiny piece of a soul left, that one small part of herself uncorrupted by the needs of her people. She had sacrificed herself to do what was required, she had not hesitated to maim or kill on a gross scale or to murder those in her own circle who were a threat to her plans. She had ignored her conscience for a long time, she had to or else she would have faltered and failed, but it was still there, only just, but while it lived she had hope.

To realise that she had to get away, to escape the world that had made her into an avatar instead of a person. She had laid the foundations of a new Imperium, she had saved and preserved everything that was good and wiped out everything that was bad in the old world. She had given it security, scientific tools and weapons, along with the ability to decide its own leadership without the alliances and family favours of the Old Imperium. She had destroyed the old power structure and opened the way for a new one, a better one. There was nothing in the old Imperium that could be carried on to taint the new one, except for one thing.

Her.

And so she had to go, to step aside and return to her first passion, science, and hope to regain something that was lost. The true Jha'dur who had been locked away so Deathwalker could win the war. One more battle, one more obstacle, one more day. Then she could step down, let Dar'sen take over and finish the war while she worked to evacuate Omelos. Then her debt to her race would be paid, undeserved as it was, and she would know peace. One more day.

She realised the door had chimed four times before she registered it, looking away from the mirror and towards the portal.

"Open."

It parted to reveal Captain An'jash who blinked briefly as her eyes adjusted to the low light. Night vision was a fortunate evolutionary advantage of her race and An'jash had no trouble stepping into the dark room. For an instant the dim light caught her eyes, reflecting like two baleful green discs as she looked at the Warmaster, momentarily resurfacing thoughts of ghosts and the spirits of her victims still haunting her.

"That time already Captain?" Jha'dur put aside her irrational fears, summoning the officer.

"Nearly Warmaster." The white haired feline agreed. While An'jash was young for a Captain her face had the weary expression of a hardened veteran. She had seen a lot of combat and come close to death in her duties. Jha'dur could not even imagine going to war without her most trusted officer by her side. Sometimes she seemed like furniture, as constant as the control panels themselves, but An'jash was a lot more than that.

"Thank you Captain."

"The main elements of the Allied fleet passed the outer beacon five minutes ago, they will be here in about an hour."

The Warmaster absorbed the information reluctantly, not because she feared fighting Earth Force but because she feared the change that would follow this battle. If she lost it was all over, if she won her entire existence would change. She wasn't entirely sure which result was the most intimidating.

"I have to give them credit, they don't give up easily." Jha'dur remarked. "They don't give up at all, even in the face of certain death."

"They must confront us Warmaster, it is just a sound military decision. Nothing more."

"They could surrender." The Warmaster offered an alternative. "They could sue for peace, beg for our mercy. But no, I don't see Earth doing that here, not while they have even a slim chance of beating us."

"Do you really think they have a chance Warmaster?"

"I've learned not to underestimate humans, especially when they have their back to a wall." Jha'dur allowed a respectful smile. "We must wage this war as if we were the ones at the disadvantage, rely on courage and skill to win, not numbers or confidence. We hold the advantage, but if make a mistake Earth will tear us apart. And if this fleet falls, Omelos will soon follow."

"It is sure to be a decisive battle Warmaster." An'jash agreed. "Victory here will set the Allied war plans back by months."

"Which is all the time we need to develop our new weapons and force a peace." Jha'dur affirmed. "And by then I expect public appetite for continuing the war will have evaporated. Still, you never can tell."

"You think the humans would still fight us? Even if we had the power to annihilate their worlds?"

"If there was no other choice, if we refused peace, yes they would fight us. Even if we wiped out all but one of them, that last human would still fight us, because that is their way. Even if they have nothing left to gain they will fight, because the alternative is just to give up and that would be letting us win."

An'jash shook her head. "Sometimes I don't understand these humans, other times they are as familiar as family."

Jha'dur found some amusement in her aide's choice of words.

"Whoever wins this war will end up shaping the galaxy, either us or them." She agreed. "Maybe after a century the galaxy will appear the same no matter who wins."

"I can't see that Warmaster."

"It might not matter." Jha'dur chuckled slightly. "The Markab have a prophecy believing the galaxy will end in about thirty years, consumed in fire and brimstone, the usual. Funny thing is a lot of the older races have this, even the Narn are supposed to have a reference to an apocalypse occurring a thousand years after the last great war of demons. Book of G'Quan I think. Interesting coincidence."

"I've noticed most cultures have these portents." An'jash stated. "Nice way of keeping people under control, this spectre of illusory fear hanging over them."

"Yes, clever bit of foresight working that into the culture." Jha'dur agreed. "Though I tend to prefer the direct method."

"Has it's advantages Warmaster." An'jash agreed.

"Most of the Markab thought we were the demons, reason from our slumber to burn down the wicked universe and glory in carnage." She laughed. "We did, but we did it for our own reasons, and I suppose Earth prevented us from finishing the job. They seem to be developing a knack for that."

"It won't save them from us."

"No, I expect not." Jha'dur agreed. "But it is still going to be a few weeks until we can deploy our new missiles, and we need a fleet to launch them from. Does us little good if they are sat in a bunker somewhere waiting for a launch ship."

"Yes Warmaster."

"So we face Earth Force the old fashioned way, no great weapons or secret fleets, just ship to ship. We both know each other, we both know how hard and how well our opponent will fight. They know we're not going to surrender or retreat just as I know the humans will fight to the death to break this fleet. This is going to be a fight to the bitter end."

"We've had those before Warmaster."

"Not like this Captain, this time we can expect Earth to throw all they have at us. In the past damaged ships withdrew, this time they will try to ram our vessels and take them down at the same time. This is their last chance and they know it, we are in for a nightmare."

"And so are they Warmaster."

"Yes they are." Jha'dur agreed. "Even if they win this battle will change the human view of the galaxy, and probably the Galaxy's view on humanity."

"How so Warmaster?"

"Any other race would have fled after the first battle, amazed at out strength and facing the mythical Deathwalker at the helm of ten thousand ships, they would have run home to bolster their defences. Earth Force did not flinch, they actually attacked us. We defeated them, sent them home in pieces, and now here we are again about to face them in battle. They are going to attack us even in their weakened state, and people will take notice of that."

"Might not do them much good if we break their fleet."

"Perhaps, but it will alter the way they are seen, this whole war has. We earned a reputation from it, and the humans have done the same. Even if our technology is inferior our skill at arms has meant an invasion by any known race is unthinkable. You think the Centauri would invade Earth space now? They could probably win but the losses would be staggering. Likewise they would not dare attack us for the same reason, and with our new ships, well I think our future is safe." She paused. "If we survive today that is."

"I am sure of Victory my Warmaster."

"We will see." Jha'dur nodded, catching her reflection in the mirror with a twinge of internal pain. "We will see what tomorrow has in store for all of us."

Balos

The Underdwellings

Francis took the headphones away and turned off the communication box, a small but deceptively complicated device. He looked up at the people around him, all focused intently on him as he fixed his gaze on General Biek.

"One hour."

Those two words were all anyone had to hear, the summation of weeks of preparation, anticipation and hope. The fleet was coming, he had heard it through the jammers delivered by the voice of Admiral Hamato himself, they were on their way which meant it was time for those on Balos itself to do their part in helping them.

"You have your orders." Biek announced. "And now you have the word. Inform division commanders to begin, relay all information to sector command posts and be ready to link up with the warships when they arrive. They should be close enough this time to burn through the jammers."

The assorted officers began to break up, setting about their assigned tasks.

"Remember," Biek raised his voice, stilling the crowd once more. "This is do or die time, our last chance to get off this planet alive. If we don't succeed this time, we don't get to go home. Good luck ladies and gentlemen, now go give 'em hell."

The crowd around the command post began to break up, hopping on vehicles or dashing to their own communication points to spread the word globally. The scale of the operation was huge, the whole army group was preparing to launch a vast series of raids and assaults against Dilgar ground locations scouted out by Balosian teams. Most of the strikes were against airbases housing Thorun fighters and various command and sensor facilities that could use their large dedicated sensor nets to feed details to the orbiting fleet. The main strike however, utilising Biek's two best infantry units, would be against the local planetary defence centre housing one of the fearsome heavy bolter cannons.

"Agent O'Leary." Biek waited until the area was clear before speaking, the cavern echoing dully with distant noise. "Are you ready?"

"Yes General." Francis packed up his radio set, wrapping it in a back pack so he could carry it with him. "Little nervous, but ready."

"To be expected." Biek confirmed. "If you weren't worried I'd ask if you understood what is at stake."

The General folded his arms before continuing.

"The timing of this is critical, we need to take out the defence centre quickly, and inform the fleet as soon as it is done."

"I understand sir."

"We need to send the all clear signal to the fleet the second the gun is destroyed, and for that to happen we need someone there as it happens, someone who can get a signal through no matter what."

"I can do it sir."

"You're going to be within a few hundred yards of a major fire fight, I don't expect you to take part, but you're going to be very close."

"I know sir, but I'll take the risk."

With a crunched up smile Biek nodded and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"You're a brave lad, you'd be a good soldier if you got bored of the EIA."

"I won't fail General."

"See that you don't." Biek released him. "Dismissed Agent, good hunting."

Francis didn't have a long way to travel to join his escorts, the now familiar men and women of Red Platoon. He was greeted like he was one of them, they slapped him on the back, mocked his clothes and jostled him like old friends often do, even though he had only known them for a few weeks, in these circumstances it was as good as bonds forged over a lifetime.

"Welcome back Franky!" His childhood friend Dom grabbed his arm and dragged him aside. "Sarge is this way."

He wound his way between rocks and icicle like stalagtites until he came to a small gathering of camouflaged people rapidly finishing their dinners before the orders came to move out. He spotted Garibaldi, the subdued stripes on his arms rising and falling as he shovelled down a still smoking stew before folding his ration tin and standing him, stretching his back and readying for the days activities.

"It never fails, the order to move out always comes at chow time." Bugs said between mouthfuls. "Like fate."

"Yeah, somebody higher up must time it just to annoy you." Corporal 'Bulldog' Tucker answered plainly.

"Exactly right." Bugs replied, oblivious to the sarcasm.

"Hey, Francis." Garibaldi noticed his new guest. "Captain said you were coming along, good to have you around again."

"Thanks Crowbar." The young man nodded. "I'm only going as far as the tunnels though, I can't follow you into the base."

"Close enough buddy." Garibaldi said, making sure Francis knew there was no shame in it. "After what you did in that cavern with those Spectres, you've got nothing to prove."

"Thanks, put I still think I owe the Dilgar something." Francis said. "I have a score to settle."

"You can do that by doing your job." Garibaldi informed, taking his Sergeant tone with Francis, the voice he used when he didn't want to be argued with. "Don't try to be a hero Francis, you have a vital role in this plan, you jeapordise it you end up risking tens of thousands of lives. We clear on this?"

"Clear Sarge."

Garibaldi grinned widely. "You need to join up Franky, you'd fit into this platoon perfectly."

"Thanks, but I think the Director would probably hunt me down and bring me back in a sack."

"I bet he would too!" The Sergeant laughed. "But for now, you're an honorary member of the Platoon."

"Well done Franky." Tucker slapped his arm.

"Welcome aboard." Bugs added, still eating.

"We found a spare patch for you." Dom took the badge from his pocket and handed it over, the unofficial unit insignia showing Daffy Duck in combat gear screaming at an enemy, PPG rifle in one hand and a Crowbar in the other.

"That's…actually that's amazingly cool."

"It's meant to be the Sarge, see the crowbar?" Dom pointed. "He took out a whole Dilgar company with just that crowbar."

"Every time you tell that story the number doubles!" Garibaldi complained. "I'm going to have to live up to that reputation one day!"

"Like today."

The group immediately stood up as Captain Franklin entered the scene.

"Sergeant, come with me." He continued. "You too Mr O'Leary. Everyone else be ready to move in ten minutes, full combat gear."

The trio made their way swiftly over the rocks to a small table set up where Captain Franklin was based, a small gathering of officers were already there along with their respective platoon Sergeants and deputies. Garibaldi recognized Lieutenant Fox as his commanding officer, and Lieutenant Brook who had commanded Red Platoon before moving to take over their sister unit White Platoon. Also there was Lieutenant Emerson who commanded Blue Platoon, the three groups making up the combat strength of Captain Franklin's Alpha Company.

"Alright, lets get this done fast." Franklin took position beside the table. "The mission is on, we leave in nine minutes."

He activated a small holographic projector, his attitude as gruff and to the point as ever. On duty Richard Franklin was a quintessential infantry officer, hard edged, decisive and distant. He didn't have friends in the platoon, he didn't laugh and joke with his men, but he did lead them into action and was ready to take the same risks they did. He didn't act cruelly or carelessly towards his soldiers, and while he rarely explained to them what he did as Captain Garibaldi knew Franklin went well out of his way to ensure the Company had the vital equipment it needed to fight well and fight safely. It was easy for an outsider to dismiss Franklin as an unfeeling commander, but closer examination proved otherwise, and his unit respected and admired him greatly for the commitment he had shown and the desire to avoid praise for simply doing his job.

"Our target is the anti ship cannon here, at Fort Apache." He gave it the local code name. "It is imperative that this weapon be destroyed, it is the last gun left active in this sector and can cause great damage to any ship trying to support us from orbit. It has to fall, and we're going to do it."

The projector switched to show a three dimensional map of the area.

"While other units hit their targets above ground we will proceed through tunnels to the area beneath the base. Balosian teams have rigged tunnel roofs here, here and here with explosive charges. They will detonate them, blow through to the surface within the base perimeter, and then we attack."

"Take them from the inside out." Brook grinned. "Last thing they'll expect."

"Command has assigned two regiments for this mission." Franklin informed. "Beside ourselves there is also the 509th Marine Corps regiment attacking in the same way."

"509th?" Emerson frowned. "Those cutthroats? I better order our guys to keep one hand on their wallets at all times!"

The comment drew a few laughs.

"They have a reputation for recruiting, dubious characters shall we say." Franklin admitted. "But they are also the most brutal close quarters fighters in the Force, they took a Dilgar cruiser intact through a breaching action and they fought in the same Tiree streets as we did. You wouldn't bring them home to mom, but out here they're the best support you can ask for."

Franklin returned to the map.

"Most of our regiment and the 509th will be engaging enemy forces in the fort, taking out command installations and generally sowing havoc. Alpha company gets the prize, we're going to get that gun."

He focused the map display on the gun itself.

"The weapon is five hundred metres long buried in a heavily armoured bunker. It is mounted on a standard electromagnetic gimble that allows it to elevate and track from horizon to horizon. To fire it must first raise itself from the bunker, a process taking about five minutes. However the weapon can be accessed while it is idle underground through maintenance tunnels and repair access, the entry point is located in this building here. That is where we will storm."

"How do we destroy something that big sir?" Garibaldi asked.

"All we have to do is stop it firing, let the Navy glass it later." Franklin stated. "We plant C-20 charges on the elevating mechanisms and blow them, if it cant raise it can't aim, and if it can't aim its just a big fat nuke magnet."

"Do we have engineers attached?" Brook asked.

"We're meeting them at the tunnel." Franklin confirmed. "We do this quick, and we withdraw. We don't need to take and hold the fort, just blow the gun and leave. All clear?"

They answered in the affirmative.

"Your specific assignments are in the battlenet, I'll be joining you on the surface to coordinate the attack." Franklin concluded. "One last thing, if we are too late and the weapon is active, the muzzle blast from that thing is like a thermobaric bomb. If it fires, anyone within a quarter mile will be killed by the heat or pressure, so if you see it elevating, run for cover. That's it, back to your platoons, we leave in three minutes."

Francis followed Lieutenant Fox and Garibaldi the short distance back to the platoon, the dozen surviving members tightening their combat webbing and checking their weapons and kit, the sealed tactical helmets the last thing they put on and activated.

"The tunnel comes up close to our target, couple of hundred yards." Fox noted. "Plenty of buildings for cover between us and the maintenance building, with surprise on our side we should be able to get there very quickly."

"Yes Ma'am, and lets hope the journey back is just as quick."

"Agreed Sergeant." Fox confirmed. "I'm going to find our scouts, be ready when I get back."

She jogged off in a different direction as Garibaldi rejoined the platoon.

"You girl scouts good to go?" He asked to a chorus of confirmations.

"Hey Sarge, are we fighting with the 509th?" Tucker asked.

"Yeah we are, so if you have anything valuable hide it!" He answered with a wide grin. "General wanted to put his best people on this mission, so lets make sure he knows that it's the 99th up there in the number one spot!"

The Platoon cheered and hollered, eager and ready to get the job done. Dom stepped up to the two returned men and gave Garibaldi a familiar item.

"Picked this up as ordered Sarge."

Garibaldi took the Tommy gun, the ancient weapon Paul Calendar had brought with him and given to Francis.

"This is yours Franky." He tested the weight and feel of the weapon before handing it over, Dom producing his webbing pouches filled with spare ammunition. "You might not need it, but keep it handy just in case."

He solemnly took the weapon, appreciating the weight of meaning surrounding it. "I'll take care of it, use it like Paul intended."

"Good man." Garibaldi approved. "We're all fighting for someone."

Francis gripped the weapon, closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them with a long exhalation. He was ready.

He was not the only one preparing himself mentally, everyone in the tunnels made their peace, settled themselves and prepared for the tornado to come. For some it was a private moment, for others a shared experience, for the Balosians it was a ceremony, a pre-battle ritual to purge fear and purify the spirit.

Stylek and Tisket stood by, spears in their hands and bladed weapons by their sides. They carried the traditional weapons of their race, hand made and imbued with the spirit of their creators and the souls they had dispatched, both powerful beasts and enemy soldiers. Strylek had served as a mercenary in his youth, and his knife had tasted much blood from across the galaxy, including that of a band of human Raiders the Centauri hired him to dispose of quietly. Today it would be touched by Dilgar blood, and it would rejoice. Likewise Tisket was no stranger to the hunt, a stealthy and completely remorseless warrior with a legendary tally of Dilgar kills, the trophy teeth around his neck as thick as white chains. In addition to spears and knives they also carried a rifle and sidearm of the latest design, modern weapons but decorated in the paints and styles of their respective tribes. Strylek used a Centauri rifle, while Tisket had been given an Earth made PPG.

The local tribes had gathered to enact this ceremony, from the hundred or so Balosians most were elderly women with barely two dozen warriors, a mix of the very young and the very old, but still totally committed and deadly. Strylek and Tisket were the only prime blooded warriors in the area, a sad testament to the losses the Balosians had endured in the war.

The warriors banged their spears on the ground in time, creating a rhythm for the hunting chant. The whole tribe was raising its voice, extolling the gods of old and praying for victory. A few years ago this ritual would have been laughed at by most true Balosian soldiers, but the Dilgar had since driven them to the brink of extinction and the horror of that had brought a new resurgence of the ancient ways.

Each warrior wore a style of warpaint, natural dies and crushed rock mixed into a paste and then applied in person to each warrior by the tribal elder, in this a case a female reputed to be over two hundred years old. While Balosian society was patriarchal there wasn't a male on the planet that commanded the same respect as this particular elder, not even proven warriors like Strylek or Tisket. The elder female raised her wizened hand to pass along the honour to the final warrior in the group, a warrior acknowledged to be Balosian in spirit, if not by birth.

Jenny did not move as the elder anointed her, giving her the same respect as the other members of the tribe. She had proven her credentials in battle and was accorded deep respect and admiration, but also great sympathy for the loss of her life mate. The death of her Fiance was still agonising, more than she could stand, but today that pain was less because she had a goal to focus on, something to set herself toward that for a time occupied her waking thoughts.

She was knelt on the ground, the bang of spears and chant of rich voices infusing her soul with an ancient and primal power, connecting her to a very deep and buried instinct that a human warrior of millennia ago would have understood and cultivated before war. Her weaponry was laid out on the ground before her, the scoped PPG rifle decorated in reds and blues by the tribe. She had two Balosian knives the size of machetes designed to slay fierce predators, the blades engraved with scenes of hunting and war. Finally, and most importantly, she had the long barrelled revolver that had been Paul's mast loved weapon. The handgun was undecorated, left as Paul had left it and so it would remain.

The thumping of spears reached a crescendo, as did the voices. They summoned down the spirits of the ancestors, imbued the warriors with the bravery of their race and the power of the gods. They recalled their pain and loss, lamented their suffering, and turned that grief into the fuel needed for this attack into Dilgar territory, this mission to repay in kind the pain that had been visite don Balos, and on Jenny.

She did not know the words, but she knew the feeling and the emotion, and she embraced it, feeling herself grow stronger and determined, letting go of everything in the world and becoming a pure and perfect warrior unattached and untainted by anything in the world, needing simply to find her enemies and wipe out every single one of them.

The elder finished her task, Jenny's face and neck were smothered in black and grey, the traditional colours of a Balosian warrior and matching the rest of the tribe. But in addition to this she had two long red stripes under her eyes, symbolising the personal loss she had endured. Several of the Balosian warriors also had these markings showing they too were in a state of recent grief.

She remained there before the elder, eyes closed as she centred herself, the crashing of weapons and soaring voices reaching a frenzy until suddenly they stopped, going from a cacophony to utterly dead silence in one heartbeat.

In that moment Jenny opened her eyes, bright white circles in the painted face like twin moons in a winter sky. She was not simply ready to take her revenge, she had become vengeance. She was ready to meet the Dilgar again, and return to them what they had given to her.

13th Tactical Fighter Squadron

The Ghost Riders

One of the benefits of a Starfury was the view, the huge canopy allowing a pilot to see space around him in a grand half sphere. It was mesmerising, and new pilots often just stared out into space for their first flight in a real fighter. It was so clear up there, so crisp and perfect it simply took a persons breath away. Certainly a pilot would get used to it, the vital necessities of flying and fighting filling a persons mind and driving away such artistic thoughts of space and infinity.

Sometimes though, in quiet moments when the sensor screen showed empty and there was no danger, you could stumble onto that wonder again, find it hiding at the edge of your vision and remember what it was like that first time you stepped into a fighter and put nothing between yourself and the stars.

Hague was in that moment, lost for a short time in the engulfing scale of the universe, full of possibilities and events yet to come. It was a window on the past and the future, if he turned and looked for his home system he would be seeing light from years ago. It was one of the things about space travel he accepted but didn't really comprehend, it was just the way things were. That acceptance had come to define his military career.

In a few months he had become one of the leading pilots in Earth Force, and in the process had seen such destruction that he couldn't comprehend it, just accept it. He also had to accept that his mentor and friend, David Sinclair, had fallen to the Dilgar. The one pilot in the galaxy who should never have failed was gone, not even a trace of his fighter remaining to give a clue as to where he had vanished to, nothing left to bring home. Not even a token piece of wreckage.

What he had to do now was remember his place, and remember what was expected of him. This place had claimed a lot of people, Sinclair among them. Wrecked ships floated peacefully through the void, crews entombed in them awaiting recovery by their brothers and sisters and the prospect of a formal burial, a final act putting them to rest. Whether Sinclair would have that or not was an open question, or even if he needed it. Hague had been surprised before by his Squadron leaders ability to cling onto life in the most extreme circumstances, he hoped he would be again.

Balos sat there, close and silent clearly visible through the clear canopy of the Starfury. It was a yellow world, mostly sands and savannahs with a few shallow seas and some greenery around the wetter areas of the equator. It looked like sandy marble, brush strokes of white clouds stroked over the face of the planet breaking up the tracts of sand and yellow vegetation. It was harsh, but it had life on it making it something of a rarity among the explored spacelanes. Something to fight for, and maybe something to die for.

"The guys are right, not much of a place to fight for." His new wingman, Lieutenant Ryan commented, almost reading his mind.

"No, no it isn't." Hague agreed. "But this battle is for more than a ball of rock."

"Yes sir, it's for payback."

Hague grinned, he had to admire the spirit of his new squad mate.

"We have to break them here Ed, only one fleet is going home at the end of today. Make sure it's us."

"Damn straight sir." His fellow pilot responded. "Signal from fleet, they're recalling all scout elements."

"That's us." Hague confirmed. "Okay, lets head back to the fleet, link up and assume formation."

He savoured a last second of wonder, of tranquility and stillness, of the world and the stars and the infinite possibilities beyond.

"Let's win this one for the skipper. Ghost riders, throttle up and look alive, we've got places to be. Form on the Nemesis and stay sharp, going to get pretty hectic out here."

The Starfuries left their hiding place, a small debris field where an EA Cruiser squadron had battled three times their number of enemy equivalents. The long prow of a Hyperion obscured the view of Balos as Hague changed position, the grey hull dark and unpowered, lit only by a few tiny emergency lights casting a red or yellow glow beside the airlocks and escape hatches. As Hague flew past the ship changed, becoming more gnarled and ripped apart, hull plates bent and lacerated until they just stopped altogether, the entire reactor and engine sections missing, blown apart and by this time tens of thousands of miles away from each other tumbling through space for eternity.

It was a sad end for the ship, the interior of the hangar deck clearly visible as Hague passed by, the launch cradles for old Tiger Furies and the various fuelling and maintenance points still intact and clearly recognisable. Two more cruisers were nearby, each ripped apart in a similar manner, still vaguely in formation drifting away out of the system towards the deep reaches of space, a trio of ghost ships united in silent battle for the rest of time. A large number of Dilgar wreckage surrounded them, some pieces of green hull or fragments of engines that had the same velocity as the cruisers. Most of their kills would have been travelling a different course and a different speed, their remnants scattering across the system like the other detritus of battle. The battlezone was like ripples in a pond, starting as one concentrated clump of destroyed ships and fragments slowly expanding outwards and growing less dense. In time there would be no ships in the system at all, just hunks of metal drifting into interstellar space telling their tale of a great battle from antiquity.

He turned away from the ghost ships, stars streaking by as he reorientated and throttled up back to the rendezvous point. For a while he could see only space, and then through the canopy a shadow moved, cast by the long hull of an Earth Force heavy cruiser that dominated his vision. This cruiser was alive, a breathing and functioning organism with a purpose and a mission. Her hull glowed with illumination, white lights detailing her name and registry for all the galaxy to see. Normally EA ships in times of war ran dark, using only minimal formation lights to prevent collisions with civilian ships, but today, in this battle it didn't matter. The Dilgar would see them lights or not, so the fleet had chosen to enter the fight proudly announcing themselves. Like the ships and armies of old who advanced under colourful banners and battle flags so the Earth Force fleet now proclaimed itself, not hiding or approaching by stealth, but standing clear and tall in the open with its heraldry gleaming and weapons drawn.

He flew over the cruiser, crossing above its saucer shaped main sensor mast and encapsulating the view beyond, the red and orange nebula in the distance casting its fiery light on the assembled Allied fleet. His sensor screen was filled with contacts, ships and fighters stretching for thousands of miles, but the raw data and icons did nothing to convey the sense of awe such an assembly of might implanted in his soul.

Hyperion cruisers hove past in formation, a quintet of grey and blue advancing slowly, their engines idle and cold, conserving fuel for the forthcoming battle itself. Vree saucers hummed by, their gravitic drives causing a vibration in Hague's cockpit that generated an almost eerie sound exactly like that of an ancient B-Movie. If the Vree had indeed visited Earth and their presence had informed human culture of the middle twentieth century, the film makers of that era had perfectly captured the look, sound and feel of the alien craft. What was once fantasy of the highest order was now mundane reality hardly worth a second glance.

He proceeded deeper into the fleet, turning around units of League and fellow human pilots. Once more the Cascor had joined the battle, their agile and fast fighters a welcome addition to the airwings of the fleet. He saw a Markab battlegroup in the distance, two cruisers surrounded by frigates and corvettes. The Markab fleet had suffered massive losses in the last battle, reduced to barely a third of their strength which was already quite small to begin with. Their fleet was skilled and well armed providing a lethal fast attack element to the allied forces, but many of their number still suffered from the frenzy that had doomed their main fleets in the first battles with the Dilgar. While Grand Master Valna had done an excellent job teaching his crews human tactics and disciplines on top of traditional Markab training many of the fresh recruits from homeworld had not learned enough. They still succumbed to religious zeal, believing the power of the gods guided them to victory no matter what. Dilgar bolt cannons usually dispelled that idea in the most final of ways.

While the Markab were still a key part of the fleet their costly tactics had reduced their contribution beneath the level of the Brakiri who had suffered more a long period of blockade and siege by the Dilgar and were only just pushing their economy back up to a war level, with the aid of generous human loans. Politically the Markab were still among the most influencial voices in deciding the conduct of the war, but militarily they had found themselves pushed into a support role to the Vree.

Next in Hague's sights were the Brakiri themselves, the stately but fragile warships cutting an impressive figure in the midst of the blocky Earth ships. The Brakiri were in a poor state, their ecosystem was collapsing, major water rationing was in place planet wide and their economy was a shadow of its former self. The long month under siege had been a great test of their strength and unity as a race, and it was in the end the goal of military victory which had focused them. The Government had kept the people focused by building military hardware, fighters, armaments, and warships. While the orbital yards had suffered great damage in the initial Dilgar assault they had been gradually restored and were building cruisers. Most impressively the old Corumai yard, home to the prototype Dreadnought of the same name had been working incessantly to build a second ship of her class.

The Corumai had been the ultimate white Elephant, a great idea but too far beyond Brakiri technology to fully realise. On paper she had been second only to the Hyach Dreadnoughts in terms of power among the League navies, but in reality a whole sea of problems kept the ship from entering service. Running a decade behind schedule she was eventually forced into battle to defend Brakir, and to everyone's surprise earned a place of undisputed glory. The design was impractical and unsound, but it was also hugely symbolic and when the Krona needed something to focus the people on, the construction of a second such ship seemed ideal. It was unlikely to see combat, it wasn't ready for this battle and probably wouldn't before the war ended one way or another, but it was a symbol of Brakiri reconstruction and defiance, and in that role at least the money had been well spent.

A more practical contribution had been the tall Avioki cruisers built in orbit and the large numbers of smaller faster warships built on the surface and then launched to join the fleet. They had been integrated with the main body of the fleet, the mixed force of cruisers and escorts joining the mix of human cruisers and escorts defending Carriers and forming part of Dreadnought Battle squadrons.

The combined League forces made up about a third of the total fleet strength, but would be deployed in a wide variety of roles from close escort to assault to wolf packs. The diversity of the League ships and their abilities gave Hamato flexibility, they gave him the tools he needed to fight a war on his terms. He could use strike and fade tactics, harassing attacks, decoys and flanking tactics, all the things a sluggish EA fleet by itself couldn't. They would help win the battle, but the League forces alone couldn't decide the outcome. The battle, and perhaps the war itself, would be won by the grinding close range contest between the Earth Force heavy ships and the Dilgar heavy ships.

There was nothing pretty about that type of battle, no grace in its execution or wonder in its fulfilment. Likewise the ships expected to participate in that type of battle had no endearing aesthetic in their design. They were built to deliver overwhelming firepower and survive a similar level of counterattack, they were angled slabs of armour put together quickly in massive orbital yards near Jupiter, Mars and Proxima. Their names told an observer where they had been made, those from the Sol system bearing the names of famous people and places while those from the colonial yards bore the names of mythical heroes and beasts. While many League ships were unique, each shipwright adding his or her own flourish to a vessel like a signature, the vessels of Earth Force were a faceless uniform legion, every one built to the exact same design in the exact same way. It made them boring to look at, but easy to repair and refit at any human facility.

That in built survivability and ease of maintenance was why this battle was even happening. The vast majority of League ships damaged in the last battle were still inoperable, requiring specialised yards to strip them down and build them back up, replacing large areas of the structure in the process. The human ships had simply been patched up by the crew, fixed with a few generic spare parts from Camelot station, and then sent back into action a couple of weeks later. It wasn't pretty and wasn't perfect, but it would get the job done and that was enough.

Hague took his position in the centre of the fleet, the long rows of Nova Dreadnoughts spread out over the heart of the fleet, the more distant ones barely lines against the red nebula. During the last battle Hamato had deployed his core fleet in a rigid battle line designed to concentrate the considerably fire power of his fleet against the Dilgar in one massive sledgehammer. Unfortunately Jha'dur had anticipated this and adopted a more fluid formation for her own ships, running circles around the rigid and slow moving EA ships and forcing a retreat. Hamato had taken the lesson onboard and designed a new formation for his ships, assigning them into mixed Battlegroups capable of fighting alone against any target, but also of mutually supporting one another to fight as a single fleet if demanded.

The battlegroups were built around five Dreadnoughts, the concentration of heavy guns mounted on those vessels capable of taking on multiple Dilgar Pentacans. Joining them were between eight and ten Hyperions, with leading battlegroups having a few Hecate Battlecruisers deployed instead for added punch. These ships were the backbone of the groups, flexible enough to join the Dreadnoughts in engaging enemy capital ships, or take on the fast moving Frigates and suicide ships that the Nova's had trouble targeting with their large and slow firing laser batteries. The Hyperions had proved themselves during the war, silencing their critics in the senate and justifying the use of such a large vessel in the role of a cruiser when most senators wanted to see a smaller and cheaper design replace it. It seemed the Hyperion was here to stay.

Next in line were the escorts, between twenty and thirty Olympus Corvettes or Artemis Rail Frigates. Like the Hyperion there had been disquiet about using such big ships in this role, but their effectiveness in battle spoke for itself. The Olympus could match anything smaller than a Cruiser in the Dilgar arsenal, its varied weapons load making it deadly to any medium ship and positively nightmarish against Frigates and the far smaller Dilgar corvettes. The Artemis likewise was feared by the Dilgar, relatively fast, well protected and packing a punch far in excess of its size the Artemis was a priority target for Dilgar light warship screens, something in which the Artemis Captains were happy to oblige. They were uncomfortable, short ranged, old and ugly as sin, but they were also survivable, versatile and more likely to bring their crews home than a similar sized enemy or allied ship. That made them beloved by those serving on them.

Finally each Battlegroup had integrated fighter support, usually a single Avenger class Carrier though this was frequently supported by a Cascor auxiliary fighter carrier or converted merchant ship. There were several belt Alliance carriers in the Allied fleet, commandeered by Earth Force and used to bring more Starfuries into battle. Like most carriers they had no place engaging warships, but their fighters were warmly welcomed.

This was the fleet Hamato had brought with him, every ship he could scrape together from across dozens of worlds. Most were human, but virtually every race in the League had some representation including the Abbai and Alacans. Gleaming new ships from the Sol defence fleet held formation with the battle scarred veterans of General Hernandez' survivors. Brakiri ships took their place escorted by human Corvettes. Vree and Markab vessels held station of the ranked guns of Nova dreadnoughts while multicoloured fighters from across the galaxy launched from their bays and formed into protective screens or well armed attack groups.

It was a smaller fleet than the one that had fought at Balos a month before, but it was a more solid fleet. It felt somehow stronger to Hague, more focused and determined. It was permanent, unshakeable, a concentration not just of metal and weaponry but of will and courage. These ships had been beaten, they had known defeat as well as victory, tasted both and came away wiser and more prepared. Jha'dur could no longer surprise these ships and crews, they knew the worst she could do and they were ready for it.

There had been no discussion as to why exactly the battle had been pushed forward, just a vague statement about an enemy weapon that could turn the course of the war. The specifics weren't revealed and in truth they didn't matter, the fact there was a threat and it was serious enough to send an unprepared force back into action so soon after receiving a crushing defeat told the crews all they needed to know.

It hadn't been said in words, but everyone knew that this was the crunch, the decider, the big showdown. Neither side had the resources to prosecute another campaign after this against resistance, if they didn't break through today the front lines would solidify and by the time they were ready to strike again they would be facing a strengthened and rested Dilgar force, in which cases losses would climb beyond the ability of Earth or the League to sustain them. If they didn't win today, they never would.

Hague fell into position, the assorted fighters of the squadron joining him. Green Brakiri Falkosi interceptors raced past to his left, Cascan Star Skaters to the right while waves of missile armed Tiger Furies slowly passed over head. The angular carriers launched their fighters in ripples of grey, the small craft turning into formation with a flash of reflected sunlight over their wings and canopies.

"Ghost riders in position." He announced, feeling proud of his fellow pilots and committed to playing his role in this gathering. He felt part of this, he had responsibilities to live up to and he promised himself not to let the rest of the fleet down, and to fight as though Sinclair were on his wing watching.

"I have you on the scope." The plain voice of Commander Anderson sounded. "Hold position beside the old Lady…"

The message paused, and Hague heard some irate talking in the back ground before it came back.

"…I mean hold position beside the fabulously brilliant Lady Nemesis and her immaculately dressed Captain."

Hague grinned widely. "Is Joe wearing that grass skirt again?"

"Yes he is." Anderson replied. "I'm not sure what he'll do when we run out of Dilgar to fight."

"Party until the next war!" A voice called from the background, drawing a chuckle from Hague.

"We're awaiting orders from fleet command." Anderson informed despairingly. "All units are at an operational hold until then."

"Confirmed Nemesis." Hague answered. "We're standing by for some payback."

"Likewise Lieutenant." Anderson agreed. "We all are."

Battlecruiser Vendetta

Dilgar Grand Fleet.

Jha'dur offered no expression as the doors parted and she walked onto the bridge, her face even and stony, unreadable even to her old confidant An'jash. She took her place on the central chair and quickly assessed the situation, scanning over several tactical screens to build up a picture of events.

"When did they arrive?" She asked.

"About four minutes ago Warmaster." An'jash answered.

"They jumped in closer this time." Jha'dur noted. "No long range tactics, which means no massed missile strikes."

"We have detected a force of missile ships Warmaster, but they are closer to the front lines this time."

"Hamato may have decided to use them tactically rather than strategically. Will make life a little bit more interesting." The Warmaster considered. "Numbers?"

"More than expected, judging by our scans it seems the humans have summoned their reserves. About seven hundred fresh warships of various types."

"So we're still going to have to fight hard to earn this victory." A thin smile crept across her face. "So be it."

She checked her own fleet status, pleased to see all her forces were active and ready.

"This is how it should be, how it was meant to be." She said quietly. "No superweapons, no advanced ships, no massive numbers. Two fleets, veteran crews, old commanders. Victory here will be decided by which side fights better and that is all. I think Ari is going to be very upset he missed this. It is a battle that deserves to be fought"

"Orders Warmaster?" An'jash asked. "How shall we handle this?"

"Very carefully." She replied. "We must be cautious in the planning and bold in the execution."

"We still have a numerical advantage Warmaster."

"We do, and we have a second batch of suicide frigates." She confirmed. "We'll need to use them. General order Captain, copy to all ships, assume attack formation and begin to advance."

"Yes Warmaster." The Captain set to work.

"Launch fighters, hold the Delegor squadrons until my order." She rattled off. "Earth may still try to nuke us so keep formations loose."

The Dilgar fleet began to stir, the waiting forces powering up and beginning to move, gathering by pentacan and squadron on the word of the Warmaster.

"We will meet them openly, try to strip away their League friends, then surround the human ships." She decided. "As always, set Dreadnoughts as the priority targets, cruisers second."

Like beasts the Dilgar ships moved into formation, groggily coming around and forming for war. Their engines activated, weapon systems came on line and sensor nets touched and felt invisibly the space around them. The pilots embarked themselves, nursing the dart fighters up to readiness, sealing themselves within and testing the controls. Hangar decks opened like red mouths and released swarms of small craft, the triple engined fighters eagerly taking to space and revelling in their natural playground.

Like the men and women facing them the Dilgar were fully committed to the battle, resolved to win or die trying. There was no retreat, they didn't have the fuel but even if they were fully supplied Jha'dur had given her orders. They would fight to the death because those were the orders.

They were the elite, that had seen it all from the great victories to the great defeats. They had fought each of the species arrayed against them and crucially had beaten them all at one point as well. They were confident, the myth of human invincibility in battle had been dispelled, they knew they could win, they expected it, believed it was inevitable so long as they did not hold back and sacrificed themselves if necessary. They had hope, if not for their own survival then at least for the survival of their race and the assurance that their glorious sacrifice would be honoured forever.

"All ships will advance at full speed." Jha'dur said. "Get in amongst them, point blank range, then destroy everything."

The Dilgar fleet moved into view, taking up its position between Balos and the allied fleets, gradually increasing speed and closing the distance. They loped forward without hesitation, eager to spill blood and please their Warmaster. The formations spread out, filling the space before the Allied fleet and denying them easy access to Balos. The two fleets faced each other over the gulf, the last might both sides could gather for this battle. The challenge was given, and it was met.

"That's all of them, the entire Dilgar fleet." Commander Patel said, her small frame suspended in the seat of the Dreadnought Hannibal.

Hamato nodded in silence, his hands steppled in frong of his face, dark eyes fused on the large tactical map at the front of the bridge as it was constantly updated by ELINT ships and scouts. It showed his forces as a collection of blue icons and the enemy as a collection of red ones, the balance of numbers firmly favouring the red coloured side.

"All divisions, battle squadrons and Wolf packs are ready Admiral." Patel noted.

Again Hamato merely nodded, still staring at the display. His unresponsiveness garnered a few glances from across the bridge, his crew wondering if Hamato was still in command or if indecision had suddenly assaulted him. The allied fleet remained idle, its systems on standby, its ships in holding patterns, its fighters waiting vulnerable and immobile between the steel walls of the warships.

Hamato did not move, his shoulders rising and falling slowly as he breathed, the four gold stars on his epaulettes twinkling in the artificial light in a cheap mirror of their real counterparts in space beyond. He had spent his every waking hour studying Jha'dur in greater detail than ever before, looking for patterns, for quirks of personality that would make her predictable. He looked for flaws in her planning, signs of irrational decisions, hints in her orders that betrayed a passion or anger that could be exploited.

He found nothing.

Jha'dur could not be predicted, her plans were not linear and could be changed on a whim. She had the knowledge to create a new effective battleplan on the spur of the moment and give her subordinates all the details they needed to execute the change perfectly. Her crews were old soldiers who had fought with her before, trained by her, moulded into the fighting force which best suited her way of war. He could not rely on Jha'dur to make a mistake, and he could not rely on the ships to fail in carrying out her orders.

She had not displayed any idiosyncrasies during battle, no quirks of personality he could look for as an indication of what would come next. She had no favourite tactic, every battle seemed custom engineered for her opponent and designed to exploit an enemy weakness. She would not press a failing attack through pride, she would not conserve ships through fear, she would not fall into an ego trap and believe victory was easy. She had made mistakes before, but was quick to correct them. Hamato had no quick and easy way to fight this battle.

Jha'dur was well prepared, he had learned not to trust what he saw before him, that Jha'dur was a master of manoeuvre and could alter her formation with a few deft orders into something with an entirely different purpose. She could change tactics on the fly, bring in fresh attacks from any direction, withdraw in one sector and attack in several others simultaneously. Her awareness of the battle zone was second to none and her ability to adapt to the flow of a fight was legendary. She was quite possibly the best military commander in the galaxy with a perfectly trained set of officers and crew members ready to respond to her the second the orders came through, as they had in countless battles before.

More than that these crews had something to prove, they were members of fleets that had been defeated and by Dilgar culture had to earn a great victory to balance their honour. They would give no quarter, the would not surrender, and they would fight like demons.

"Admiral?"

All eyes fell on the solemn Japanese officer, both within his ship and without. Escorting fighter pilots turned to look at the Hannibal, seeking a sign of command or acknowledgement. Communication officers sat frozen in place, headsets clamped to their ears listening with growing anxiety for the order. Warship commanders from tiny Brakiri escorts up to the Nova class sisters of the flagship itself all watched, waited, and counted down the seconds.

Everything was unbalanced, poised like an athlete on the starting blocks, tensed and ready for the tribulations ahead. The point of no return loomed up ahead, the place from which there was no turning back, no further escape. Once committed they would need to fight their way to survival, they were ready for it, had accepted it, all they needed was the final word.

"Admiral?"

Hamato responded with a single gesture. He raised his right hand, it's path followed by every eye on the bridge, and then dropped it like an axe, signalling the advance in age old fashion sending the fleet to war

The four engines exploded into life, blue suns that pushed the Dreadnought forward and towards the incoming Dilgar fleet, curling storms of ions glowing brightly in its wake as the monster began to crash ahead. Moments later the nearby ships activated their main drives, growling as the throttles opened and fuel was forced through before exploding into red or blue light. Cruisers and escorts joined the Dreadnoughts, fire and light flaming and glowing over the fleet in a ripple as orders filtered down and the Allied fleet began to accelerate towards the Dilgar, not content to simply sit by and wait for the enemy to come into range.

"Commander, signal all strike wings." Hamato said coarsely. "Break and attack, engage at will."

Hague checked his computer screen, lines of text scrolling up as Commander Patel sent through the Admiral's instructions.

"Look alive Ghosts, word coming down from the top." Hague read the orders. "We have our target package, I'm sending you the details."

"Looking good." Lieutenant Ryan replied. "Time to get up close and personal."

"Push up the throttles, Max Chat people." Hague confirmed. "We'll clear a way for the strike fighters. Stay in the box and don't go glory hunting."

"Got it boss."

"Alright then, lets do this thing."

Hague took a final breath, then accelerated, pushing the engines to full but holding off on the afterburner. His fighter slowly built up speed, joining thousands more as the Allied fleet made its opening moves. Missile armed Tiger Furies separated themselves from the mass of warships, gradually opening space between themselves and the advancing fleets. They were joined by Brakiri and Vree strike fighters, large and slow moving but likewise well armed and dangerous to the Dilgar fleet. Cascan fighters joined the escort, precise 'V' formations staying close to the strike craft while the Nova Starfuries surged ahead to take on the Dilgar Thoruns on their own terms.

The wave after of Furies was a magnificent sight, a wide cross section of human culture and civilisation. While all mechanically identical their pilots came from every nation and colony, their tastes and proclivities displayed in the decorations on their craft. Some fighters had squadron markings, all twelve sporting the same pictures and colours on their upper wings. The Squadron beside Hague had a cartoon of Felix the Cat carrying an animated bomb, grinning maniacally as the fuse burned down. Others bore markings as individual as their pilots, from simply shading to wondrously complicated images and geometric designs.

No craft deviated, some moved more easily than others displaying greater skill and familiarity with their craft, but each pilot was a product of the academies on Earth and beyond. The League pilots were not so well selected, recruited quickly to replace losses but even they had been given a quick course in basic flight combat by a human instructor. They might have been rookies, but they were better than most of their predecessors who had fallen tot he Thorun waves of the previous year.

Finally among the fighter wings were the veterans of the Starfury corps, those who had participated in the battle of Markab and beyond. These fighters bore victory stripes, black and white bands ont heir wings proudly declaring their history. These craft were increasingly few in number, as even the veterans could fall in action, but those that still held formation among their unadorned squadmates received healthy respect and were the heart of the human fighter strength.

The raced past the warships, passing between them and moving away squadron after squadron, focused and determined like never before to fulfil their oaths.

The bridge crew of the Hannibal watched the fighters go, silently wishing them luck and taking a moment of pride as the neatly ordered waves of small craft set forth to do battle, aware that they would be next.

"Strike wings on the way, estimate four minutes to contact." Patel confirmed. "Combat Space Patrols are holding station near our capital ships."

Hamato nodded, he had made sure to keep plenty of warplanes close to his heavy hitters to scour away missile armed Thoruns, he wasn't leaving even one chink in the armour for Jha'dur to try and exploit.

"Time to warship contact?"

"Estimate effective firing range in Six minutes Admiral." She answered. "All weapons armed, checked and ready to fire."

"Very well." The Japanese officer nodded. "Channel Four."

Patel cycled the communication consle, patching through the Admiral to the required channel.

"This is Hannibal Actual, receive."

"This is Bodkin Actual receiving." A voice replied gruffly.

"General Skorzeny, status?"

"All ships armed and ready, on your word Admiral."

"The word is given Admiral, carpet barrage, target front, fire all missiles, you know the drill."

"Aye sir," Skorzeny switched channels to speak to his forces. "All call signs, all racks, weapons release authorised! Ripple fire all tubes, target package alpha, fire, fire, fire!"

Once more the human missile ships released their cargoes, long bodied missiles delivering a wide range of warheads to battle. Some were basic plasma warheads only useful in direct hits, some were antifighter cluster bombs, some were completely empty, others were nukes. Crucially the Dilgar would not easily be able to tell which sort was which, making even the decoys high priority targets for their defensive measures.

Most of the nuclear missiles were using recovered warheads, plutonium or uranium refined centuries ago combined with modern detonators. They didn't have the punch of the handful of modern nukes also launched n this saturation volley, but they would still explode and that would be enough.

"Weapons away." Reported his first officer.

"Nuke 'em 'til they glow, then shoot 'em in the dark." Skorzeny gave a cold predatory smile beneath his grey beard. "Reload point to point missiles, then take defensive stations across the fleet. We'll give those suicide ships a warm welcome."

Instead of their usual parabolic course around the allied fleet, arcing over the flanks to hit the Dilgar from multiple different directions, these missiles were fired direct straight through the Allied ships to meet the Dilgar advance head on and explode in their faces. The fast moving tubes raced past the warships, passing between the formations on their computer guided routes trailing blue fire and white smoke in their wake. They crossed in their thousands, no less impressive than the other occasions they had been used, even if a large number of them were this time unarmed.

A few seconds after passing the warships they passed the fighters, accelerating so fast the Starfuries looked like they were standing still. They came perilously close, but their programming was flawless and there were no accidental collisions.

Hageu felt his fighter shudder in the backwash of a missile ten times the size of his little craft, but the computer easily compensated and kept him on course.

"Nice and easy Ghosts." He calmed. "Try not to look at the light, this is going to be pretty close."

"I thought so." Warmaster Jha'dur parted her lips in amusement, she had once again been proven right. "Earth Force rule of war number one, Nuke it. Nuke it twice, then Nuke it a third time just to be sure."

"Missiles are approaching head on!" An'jash warned.

"All ships evasive action, all guns and fighters, intercept, immediately!"

The Dilgar fleet began to divide by Pentacan, suddenly bursting into rays of light and rolling bolts of energised particles. Thoruns went to afterburn, screeching towards the danger and readying their guns. They would shoot down the missiles, or sacrifice themselves to halt their path.

"I see Hamato's logic." Jha'dur mused as her core Pentacan of Sekhmet's easily altered course and strengthened shields. "A gamble, he attacks from one direction so it is easier to concentrate our fire, but there is less distance and less time to react."

"Missiles are closing very rapidly, point defences having an effect!" An'jash reported her data.

"Steady as we go Captain, don't stray too far off course, let the guns do the bulk of the work."

Scores of missiles were shot out of the sky, while hundreds more rushed to take their place. They were still some miles from the enemy fleet when suddenly the first wave exploded, erupting into glimmering white and yellow flashes of light and torrents of energy.

Jha'dur frowned, then witnessed the second wave burst through the haze of the first explosions, proceed another few hundred miles, and then explode again.

"Warmaster…"

"Sensors Captain." Jha'dur snapped. "Can we read beyond the detonations?"

"No Warmaster." An'jash checked, a third set of detonations occuring in the meantime. "The nuclear detonations are blinding sensors."

"We can't target the subsequent waves." Jha'dur sighed. "He's sacrificing most of his missiles to guarantee hits by the final wave, we can't hit them, can't send fighters through that. Damn that man learns fast."

"Orders?"

"Full evasive, if it's jamming our scans it's jamming theirs too!" Jha'dur commanded with growing energy. "We'll give them nothing to hit! Spread out and prepare to reform on the main human lines!"

The Dilgar ships began a more rapid turn, and it would save many of them, but not all of them.

The carpet of nukes came closer, a walking barrage protecting following waves from interception. It was costly and incredibly resource intensive, but it was better than seeing thousands of missiles cut out of the sky by Dilgar fire. The initial waves were the reclaimed nukes, the old ones, the final wave was the concentrated remnants of the modern Earth Force nuclear weapons, full strength ship killers and the assorted decoys to get them through.

The penultimate wave exploded almost right on top of the Dilgar fleet, most of the ships breaking hard to get clear of the massive rising tide of fire. From its flaming mass erupted the final set of missiles, decoys going first to draw fire grouped with anti fighter weapons showering miniature kinetic missiles from their large nose cones to deal with any suicidal Thoruns.

Finally the anti ship missiles arrived, their intelligent and expensive on board computers quickly picking their targets, communicating with each other to prevent overkill, and then striking.

Any ship caught close to the front was destroyed, pierced by a missile and immolated from the inside out. A handful of ships further back stopped them with their point defences, but even so losses among the Dilgar Vanguard were enough to make the Warmaster give some grudging respect to her adversaries.

Again sensors were momentarily blinded by the frequent nuclear explosions, overwhelmed by the release of energy for a few seconds as the receivers shut down to prevent damage and needed to restart.

"Bring us back into formation, standby to attack!"

"Yes Warmaster, orders are… new contacts!"

"Where?"

"Right in front of us, enemy fighters!" An'jash shouted.

"How many?"

"A lot."

Speeding on the tail of the missiles the Allied Strike wings now reached their targets, roaring into action through the miasma and superheated gasses of the creeping barrage. The nearest Thoruns, expecting to engage strategic missiles were shocked when their new targets actually fired back, smashing scores of green fighters out of the sky.

Hague had to squint for a second as orange and white engulfed his fighter, powering through the edge of an explosion and praying his radiation shielding was up to the job. He passed back into the clear blackness, his squadron with him and the Dilgar forces almost close enough to touch looking his way with a hesitation born of surprise.

"Ghost riders break and attack!" He ordered briskly. "Go for the Fighters, now!"

He spotted his first target instantly, a Thorun moving so slow it might as well have been on the target range. He brought it down without even slowing, blasting it to pieces while more and more Allied fighters closed on the Dilgar and began to attack.

Hageu rolled under the torn belly of a Dilgar Destroyer, girders and supports like decayed ribs visible above him as he chased another surprised Dart Fighter, expertly dispatching it and moving on without a second thought, just like Sinclair had taught him. Hague was not the seniormost member of the squadron, but he had been at Sinclair's right for the majority of the campaign and was a natural flyer matching even the older members of the squadron. That gave him the authority to command among the other Lieutenants until either Sinclair himself or April Green returned to take command again.

From his peripheral vision he saw a Nova Fury lose an engine to a point defence pulsar cannon, thrown wildly out of control and vanishing from view leaving a spiral of black smoke in its wake. Three whole squadrons of Cascan fighters flew on in perfect formation wit all guns blazing, a wall of ion cannon fire that smashed through an assembling group of Dart fighters and proceeded deeper into the enemy fleet.

"Check six boss, I'm on it!" He heard Ryan call, and on instinct made an evasive turn, a scissor switch that dragged the trailing straight into his wingmans guns for an easy kill.

"One more down!" The youthful officer cheered.

"Nice shot Ed." Hague agreed. "Alright, form up and follow me."

He pressed on, a full squadron of Tiger Furies ahead of him strafing past a Dilgar cruiser lacing it with plasma fire and missiles, the hull erupting in a chain of bright explosions as they went past, leaving the vessel heavily damaged and listing out of control. More Thoruns were sweeping in, but the number of Allied superiority fighters in the sector was still superior and Hague confidently turned to attack.

"Strike command reports enemy front lines breached." Commander Patel reported. "Enemy forces are trying to concentrate on that area."

"Not this time." Hamato spoke in calm measured tones. "You aren't fast enough this time Jha'dur."

The Allied warships had not slowed down, still rushing at flank speed towards the Dilgar formation. The big Dreadnoughts laboured under the effort, the older ELINT cruisers and Carriers likewise having a hard time maintaining the pace. For the Markab and the Vree ships it was a fairly leisurely speed to accelerate at, but for Earth Force it was a full pelt charge right down the centre, something never tried before. Powerful as the Dilgar fleet was Hamato was sure they had nothing to stop such a heavy forces moving at such speed, even his destroyed ships would still tumble fast enough to batter through a neat fixed defence.

Everything he had done had been designed to break the Dilgar up, split them into smaller groups, push them out of position so they could not face him all at once and use their numbers to maximum effect. Ironically it was a tactic Jha'dur herself often favoured, now it was coming back to haunt her.

The missile strike had not been designed to complely vaporise the enemy fleet as previous volleys had, this time it was designed purely to force the Dilgar into taking evasive action, to scatter them and leave them vulnerable not to a nuclear strike, but to the focused fire of his warships.

It was not a battle to be fought at range with guided weapons, but as close as possible, ship to ship. Jha'dur had tried to force Earth to fight on these terms before and had achieved a victory, now Earth was back and openly embracing the prospect of fighting ship to ship, squadron to squadron, because this time they were ready for it and their training combined with their combat proven ships would simply beat the Dilgar at their own game.

"They are out of position, we're not going to fight them in a nice linear battle." The Admiral informed his crew. "We penetrate the line in the middle, break through and engage the right flank first. That is where she is."

He pointed to the Sekhmet group.

"That is our objective, the mission of every ship in this fleet, no matter the cost!" He jabbed his finger at the icons. "Kill her, and this battle is over! Smash through everything in your path, destroy anything in your way, she dies, or we do!"

The Liberation Navy held its formation a few more moments, those few moments where Hamato steeled himself and gave the final order committing the last hope of the League and Earth to battle.

"Release the Wolves, then all ships will open fire. We don't stop until we're close enough to sink our teeth into their throats."

On his order the Vree and Markab ships surged ahead, breaking from the flanks and pushing their engines to full, quickly widening the distance between themselves and the slower heavy hitters. In the same moment the entire allied fleet opened fire, raking lasers, plasma bolts, particle and gravitic weapons from the League forces, a rainbow of colours that crossed the void and bit hard into the Dilgar flanks, folding and crushing Dilgar warships and opening them to space.

"Pentacans Twenty through thirty are gone!" An'jash yelled. "Enemy ships closing hard and fast!"

"Let them come!" Jha'dur roared. "Let Hamato put his head on the block before us!"

She stood solidly in front of her chair, both furious and in awe of the developing battle, committed beyond question to winning at all costs. Nothing was left to do now beside fight, amato had revealed his strategy, now she had to met it and let the quality of the individual men and women on both sides decide the outcome.

"Vree and Markab ships are flanking on the right, Main fleet is heading straight for the centre."

"His fleet is a hammer, all the subtlety and none of the grace." Jha'dur laughed in the adrenaline of the moment. "But it has power, and brute force." She grinned. "And so do we. All ships, return fire, close the range and do what must be done! Destroy them all to the last man, to the last breath. No mercy, no retreat, kill them all!"

The Dilgar ships could not resume their formation so Jha'dur did not even try, letting them group into whatever mutually supporting fleets they could and then attacking ad hoc. The allied fire was inflicting massive casualties, but Jha'dur's forces did not flinch and turned into the face of the attack, shooting back with every weapon they possessed. Whole Pentacans were gutted in seconds, picked off by roving Vree or Markab battlegroups or crushed under the weight of fire from the Earth ships, some even shredded by massed fighter strikes from the still engaged strike wings.

Interceptor fire from the Earth Force ships helped, escorts knocking down the incoming fire while cruisers and Dreadnoughts continued the offensive, massive guns blasting incessantly and without respite. It was not a perfect covering screen, and hull armour flared as energy bolts impacted and lasers seared, but the Allied fleet sped on and the Dilgar readied to meet them.

"All ships are in attack formation!" Commander Jason Sterns barked, his screen showing the five Hyperion class ships of the Lexington battlegroup in position around the flagship.

"Commence firing!" Vice Admiral Anne Thornhill ordered from the centre chair. "Concentrate on one ship at a time, focus fire and destroy anything in our path!"

The Earth Force cruisers entered the fray in dramatic fashion, storms of blue plasma rushing towards the enemy. The range was quite long but close enough for the plasma rounds to retain much of their potency. Their targets felt the effects, hulls boiled, compartments melted, crews were cooked deep in the bowels of their ships. The Dilgar suffered, but did not break, the surviving ships returning fire with all they had, even under fire and falling apart they fired back and caused the human ships simply to attack even harder.

"Incoming!" Sterns warned.

"Forward interceptors, weapons free!" Thornhill ordered. "Bow guns, stay on target! Maintain fire!"

White gunfire met the bolter rounds, the Dilgar cruiser Pentacan locked in a struggle to the death with the similar sized human cruiser squadron. The Lexington took a laser hit, the red beam flaming across the lower tower leaving a glowing rip in the grey hull. In retaliation her batteries zeroed on an enemy ship, punching it with plasma fire and stripping away its forward hull, creating deep yellow streaks of molten metal across the upper and lower surfaces where shots grazed past.

The ship beside the Lexinton lost on of its interceptor mounts to a laser strike, and at once the Dilgar capitalized by bombarding it with bolter fire. Several hits struck open opening the forward third of the primary hull like a steel flower. A stray round caught the engine section, cutting one engine and throwing the ship on a wild curved course, its wrecked bow twisting around towards the next ship in line.

"Roll the ship!" Captain Robert Lefcourt of the EAS Brooklyn yelled sharply. "Emergency thrusters!"

The cruiser leaned to the side as the damaged vessel grazed past, its shattered hull barely missing the side of the Brooklyn as it fell out of control, her crew working frantically to halt their course and get her back in the fight.

"Damn close." The XO exhaled in relief.

"But we're still here." Lefcourt countered. "Resume course and return fire."

The two fleets grew closer and closer, still exchanging fire and leaving strewn wrecks in their wake. The intensity of the fire grew exponentially as the distance narrowed and damage mounted at the same rate, one of the priceless Nova Dreadnoughts fell out of position, its hull nothing but molten stubs and a few tangled jutting pieces of metal. A Vree saucer took a hit to the forward hull, flipping like a penny as its hull dissolved in flames. A Markab cruiser lost half its hull but still managed to ram one of the remaining Sekhmets, destroying both in the same explosion.

"Enemy forces aren't slowing down Warmaster!" Captain An'jash noted with clear worry.

Jha'dur nodded, a this point she would have expected the Nova's to have cut engines, turned on their axis to present her with a massed broadside and utilise their legendary firepower. But they hadn't.

"He's going to hit us at full speed." She realized.

"That's insane!" An'jash exclaimed.

"It's brilliant." Jha'dur chuckled. "He's playing our game, using my rules."

"There going to be at point blank range in less than a minute! They'll be among our ships!"

"And they'll still be in one formation, while we won't be." Jha'dur noticed.

"He'll split the fleet!"

"So we use it to our advantage, he wants to split our fleet, we turn it arouns and surround him, hit him from two sides. Turn his strength into his weakness."

"And make our disadvantages into advantages." An'jash reminded herself.

"First lesson I ever taught you." Jha'dur nodded. "This will take timing, stand ready Captain, keep in active touch with all Battlemasters, I need them to respond the second I give the word."

The Sekhmet group remained at the edge of the battle, easily gunning down any Markab or Vree formations that tried to engage them while shielding the Warmaster and avoiding the worst of the Earth Force gunnery. The half dozen yellow and black ships waited out the engagement, prepared to add their firepower where needed but for now content to simply act as escorts for the flagship.

Hague saw them moving past him, but could do little about it. He didn't have the firepower to hurt them and had the pressing issue of a flight of Dart Fighters filling his mind. Beside him space was alight with fire, Dilgar ships engaged on all sides and strobing gunfire from the allies somewhere behind him raced past. He couldn't plot each salvo and avoid it, he just had to trust to luck not to get hit.

A Thorun fell to its guns, and before its fires faded he was in action against a second target, simply keeping his finger on the trigger as he sprayed plasma across two and then three targets, falling and firing through space rolling wildly to point his guns at the enemy. In a display to make Sinclair beam with pride Hague ripped apart the flight, never losing focus even when a Dilgar destroyer to his left blew apart in a titanic fireball. He never lost control or awareness as he hunted down the final enemy.

As the last Thorun exploded in a twisting fireball Hague heard a sharp proximity warning, forcing him to fire braking thrusters and change course. Before his canopy he saw a mountain of grey steel, the EAS Lexington thundering past with every gun blazing and engines flaming in a halo of red light. She was scarred but unbowed, defiantly laying plasma into a pair of enemy ships in its path as it tried to catch up to the Sekhmets, the remainder of its squadron following suit.

"Hell yeah! Go on Lady Lex!" Hague couldn't help himself, cheering the newly arrived ships heralding the arrival of the main battlegroups. He whooped again for joy, then threw his fighter around to keep her back clear of Thoruns.

All around the human ships ran into the Dilgar fleet, coring through its heart with every gun blazing, shattering the Dilgar vessels on all sides as they proceeded. Nova Dreadnoughts laced their spider webs of laser fire in all directions, Corvettes emptied their missile racks of whatever was left while Artemis frigates cracked open any Dilgar ships that tried to stem the tide.

Slowly the fleet began to turn, to move towards one part of the bisected Dilgar formation where the Warmaster had taken refuge, and ground on with their path made up of Dlgar wrecks and heavy fire.

"Let them come." Jha'dur smiled widely. "As it should be, the final contest."

The viewscreen was awash with gunfire and explosions, an intensity of battle like she had never seen before fought at ludicrously short range. Two destroyers rammed a Nova, engulfing it in flames which it merely passed through, damaged but still active, only now seemingly furious and firing twice as fast.

"Into the cauldron Hamato." She found herself unconsciously resting her hand over her locket, the last connection she had to her soul. "By all I have left, you will not walk out again."


	93. Chapter 93

91

Balos

Beneath Dilgar Planetary Defence fortress

Code name 'Fort Apache'

The journey through the tunnels was swift, the two regiments of human soldiers driven in trucks through the large burrows in the rock carved out over eons by underground streams and rivers that had long since vanished. As they came closer to their objectives the trucks broke up, taking different tunnels to move the various Companies and units to their preset starting points. The truck carrying Red Platoon came to a halt beside a smaller side tunnel, one too small for the truck and recently opened up by a unit of Engineers under Balosian instructions.

"Here it is." Franklin leapt down from his truck, Alpha Company jumping down and sorting themselves out in the process. "Through that tunnel is our objective!"

He stepped back, taking the stock of his unit, fully confident they would do what was asked of them no matter the risks and dangers.

"If we destroy this gun Earth Force can put a ship in orbit, when that happens all those Dilgar armies and bases vanish in a storm of plasma and nukes! This fortress commands this entire sector of the defence grid! When it dies, the Dilgar army dies. Remember your training, look to the men and women beside you. Trust them and trust yourselves, we can do this and we will do this. Today Earth shows the galaxy what it can be and what it can reach, but more importantly you all show yourselves what you all can be and what you all can do."

He sealed his visor.

"It's time for the Dilgar to meet my friend Pain. Blow the tunnel."

The combat engineers did as instructed, twisting the detonator and blowing out the last set of preplaced explosives, letting bright daylight stream into the tunnel through a cloud of dust and smoke. Franklin hoped they'd put it in the right place.

"Go on!" He yelled. "Don't stop until you reach your objectives! Go, go, go!"

The Company erupted out of the ground like the legions of hell, charging out and screaming at the top of their lungs, Red Platoon leading the way. Garibaldi was the first human out, rushing through the dust cloud and into the open, squat grey buildings rising on either side while ahead across a gravel road two hundred yards away was their target, the maintenance building that led down to the giant cannon. The Dilgar were completely wrong footed, a trio of them stood in the road staring in complete disbelief as a Company of well armed and bloodthirsty soldiers emerged from nowhere. Garibaldi and Bugs made them pay the final price for not using their sense and running away.

"White Platoon, clear those buildings!" Franklin ordered, running from the tunnel at full pelt. "Red and Blue, don't stop for anything!"

The Company split to fulfil its different roles, the soldiers of white Platoon storming the squat buildings on either side of the roadway, bashing through doors and bringing grenades and auto plasma fire to the still stunned and disorientated enemy forces in the immediate area. They cleared the buildings and then set up defensive positions, their goal being to defend the tunnel exit and make sure the rest of the company had a secure escape route. A pair of attached snipers set up on the rooftops while the heavy machine gun teams broke through windows and opened up a long chattering sweep of cover fire for their comrades in the other two platoons.

Red and Blue meanwhile ran for the last building at full speed, legs pumping as they bolted for the target, Captain Franklin and the two Combat engineers nestled between the formations. They didn't stop for anything, firing on the run as Dilgar soldiers began to appear and trusting to massed full auto fire to make up for the lack of accuracy. The first whiz of enemy fire greeted them, the very first shot proving instantly fatal to a member of blue platoon who dropped face down in the gravel.

Support fire from White platoon tore the air, splintering concrete from the maintenance building and forcing the Dilgar to stay inside, filling the single doorway with flying lead and splinters.

"Dom the bomb!" Garibaldi yelled. "Fix the door!"

On the order Dom ceased firing, and while still running took a grenade and primed it, launching the explosive device at the doorway. The two Platoons split, throwing themselves flat on opposite sides of the doorway as the detonated clicked down and the grenade exploded in a hollow bang.

"Clear it!" Garibaldi ordered, and two more grenades sailed in, bouncing deeper into the building with simultaneous echoed explosions, spraying the inside of the building with shrapnel and pressure.

"Red Platoon on me!" Garibaldi yelled, then hurled himself around the doorway and into the building, his Platoon joining him as Blue platoon like their other comrades assumed a defensive position to make sure Red platoon could work uninterrupted.

While this was going on Francis remained at the base of the tunnel, far enough away that s stray shot couldn't kill him but close enough to hear the battle raging above him. He could see the occasional flash of plasma go over the circular opening, and at one point saw a Dilgar body flop down on the edge of the tunnel lip, one arm hanging over into the entrance.

He forced his gaze away and back to the communication device, unpacking it and connecting the power systems. Francis liked to call hit his radio, but beneath the steel box there was nothing inside that resembled those early steps in communication technology, optical relays and crystalline data storage replacing the valves and transistors of pure radio sets.

The device lit up and crackled into life, and with a smile he raised the headphones to his ears.

"… Battlecruiser on…Check grid four…fire for… concentrate on…"

He tried to filter through the background chatter, looking for one ship in particular to get a sense what was happening.

"Close gap and direct broadside fire on designated target." An icy cool voice ordered. "Time on target, plasma and missile strike, commence."

He listened in, imagining the vessels far above exchanging fire, the officer clinically funnelling the combined firepower of several vessels onto a single large Dilgar ship.

"Target is breaking up, adjust fire, new target, designate contact bravo. Stand by time on target."

Francis shared the joy of the crews, finding some comfort in the victory. At least it was confirmation the fleet was in system and was having some success, though he reminded himself that time would tell.

His listenings were disturbed by a scramble of rocks and a thud of heavy fabric. Above him he saw three figures slide into the top of the tunnel in uniforms, more specifically Dilgar uniforms. They fired a few rounds, then began to move rapidly down the tunnel, the three of them hastening to get out of the crossfire set up by White Platoon at the entrance. Francis had no time to think, he was on the edge of panic as time slipped away from him, forcing him to act without coming to terms with the fact he actually had to do something.

While his mind lagged his body drew back the cocking handle of the old machine gun and pulled the trigger.

The first Dilgar dropped instantly, the roar of gunfire echoing in the enclosed space. The other two dived in opposite directions and returned fire, blue shots lighting up the tunnel and forcing Francis into cover. Energy bolts picked at the rock beside him, the hit tautening his skin as the shots flew nearby. He heard movement, knew the Dilgar were coming but could not step out and shoot at them without being hit.

Instead he gave ground, darting deeper into the main tunnel and hiding beside one of the now empty trucks that had brought the Company to its destination. He waited, watched for the first soldier, and rested his weapon on the side of the truck. All too soon the figure emerged, peering around the corner of rock and Francis fired, chipping stone but not hitting the enemy. The Dilgar soldier dipped back around, firing a burst at Francis' location and coming scarily close to hitting him. The young agent was still in pain from his earlier wound and getting shot twice would not be enjoyable.

He soon had bigger problems though, as one Dilgar fired on him the second ran from the tunnel, taking cover in a different location. Francis changed his aim, firing on the second soldier but as he did the first one loped forward, firing a few rounds and diving into cover much closer to his position. Again Francis gave ground, this time blue particle fire chasing him as he had to literally throw himself behind a second vehicle, his attackers advancing quickly on the first. Francis was armed, but he was also outnumbered and being stalked by two well trained professionals, it was not a recipe for success. He looked to the third truck, judging the distance to the cab and how fast he could get in and drive away. He had a job to do and would fulfil his duties, but it did him no good to get killed before then. Or afterwards for that matter.

He was about to run when he noticed the enemy fire had stopped. Fearing the worst he looked over the front of the truck, darting his eyes into the open to see where the Dilgar had gone.

Both of them were on the floor, two Balosian soldiers stood over them waiting for Francis to show himself.

"Yes, this is the right place." Tisket laughed loudly. "Agent Francis, it is safe now!"

He stepped out from the shadow of the vehicle, hugely relieved to find two allies there waiting for him.

"I'm glad to see you." He expressed with sincerity.

"You defeated one, congratulations." Strylek said as he bent down to his victim, a small knife in his hand. As Francis watched he took the two incisors from the corpse in a swift and easy turn of the knife. Tisket did the same.

"You should take his teeth." The second Balosian said. "In case someone tries to take credit for your kill."

"Maybe later." He answered, his smile hiding his still shaken nerves. He had come very close to getting killed.

"Francis." He heard the familiar voice. "Sorry we were late."

He turned, but for a second did not recognize the speaker, seeing just a pitch black visage streaked in red and grey.

"Jenny?"

"We ran into some trouble on our way here." She touched a small set of teeth on her new necklace, some of them were still bloody. "Took some time to go through them."

Francis tore his gaze away from the grisly sight. "The attack already began."

"We will go and join it." Jenny affirmed, glancing over her shoulder to the Balosian warriors that had been sent to aid this particular attack.

Strylek gave an order in his native language and the group trotted up through the tunnel, weapons in hand. Jenny moved to join them.

"Stay down here and out of sight Francis." She said.

"You're not going to do anything rash up there are you?"

"I'm just going to kill a big bunch of people." She answered plainly. "Stay on the radio, when you see that gun go up you tell the fleet instantly."

"Got it." He confirmed. "Just be careful."

"You too." She answered from beneath the mask. "And stay out of trouble."

He sighed as she left. "You don't have to tell me twice."

The Balosian party thundered up the tunnel and out into daylight, the battle raging in full force by now. Bodies lay across the ground near the entrance and the road beyond, blue and red fire snapping across the air. The Balosian troops joined the human forces, split up to reinforce the various platoons. Some stayed to defend the tunnel, others ran to join Blue platoon holding the maintenance building. A few joined Jenny and descended through the building to find Red Platoon.

She ran through the doorway, Dilgar soldiers pressing toward them but held at bay by the defensive fire. Weapons of different types hissed and thudded as impacts rang like rain, so frequent were the hits on the structures.

"Red Platoon?" She asked.

"Down there!" A Corporal pointed to a trapdoor, apparently unfazed by her appearance. "Follow the tunnel!"

With a nod she jumped down through the door, Tisket and Strylek with her.

Inside she found a white walled corridor, very bland and unimpressive without character. It was well lit and descended for what seemed like a very long way. A heap of boot prints told her Red Platoon had indeed passed this way and had gone on ahead.

"Straight on?" Strylek asked.

Ahead there was a very faint rumble of gunfire.

"As fast as we can." She agreed, then broke into a sprint.

Further down the tunnel the sound of gunfire was considerably louder and more intense, scorchmarks on the walls showing the progression of the fight with Dilgar bodies acting as milestones. She could see the flashes of gunfire and quick moving shadows of the team.

"Stay behind that corner!" Garibaldi ordered. "Wait for it!"

"Sergeant." She found them at an intersection in the underground tunnels, waiting at the corner of one corridor while blue energy fir whizzed past in the opposite direction.

It took Garibaldi two full seconds to recognise her beneath the warpaint she was wearing. "Jenny? Good to see you girl, but I think you put on too much eye liner and lipstick."

She couldn't help a small smile, a slight touch of humanity. "What's the story Crowbar?"

"We've got baddies on the other side of the intersection keeping our heads down." He answered. "I've got a grenade, but need a second or two to throw it."

"I'll get you a little time." She armed her rifle. "Ready?"

"I was born ready." Garibaldi chuckled. "Still figuring out what for."

She returned the grin. "On three."

Garibaldi pulled the pin and twisted the cap of the grenade, a quick red flash telling him was armed while Jenny counted down.

"Three!" She reached, then swung around the corner and fell to one knee, rifle climbing to her shoulder. She spotted two Dilgar leaning around the corners of the corridor, merely their heads and shoulders protruding around the walls. It was enough.

She fired two shots, each one hitting the chosen target between the eyes. The great accuracy of her sniper variant PPG and her own innate talents took care of both enemies, and before more could take their place Garibaldi was already lobbing the grenade and ducking back into cover. Jenny followed him.

The explosive bounced off the far wall and rolled to a stop around the corner at the end of the intersection beside the fallen Dilgar just as more of his comrades came to take his place. The device exploded, the sound echoing and concentrated in the confines of the underground tunnel.

"Go!" Garibaldi ordered before the sound had even faded. "Rush 'em!"

The first squad took off, bolting for the corner and flattening themselves against the far wall, firing a few rounds at the stunned defenders as they stumbled away.

"Clear! Tucker shouted.

"Keep moving!" Ordered Lieutenant Fox. "Get to the control room! Move!"

The Earth Force troops joined by Jenny, Strylek and Tisket clomped down the corridor noisily, preferring speed to stealth. They sometimes encountered a lone Dilgar, gunning him down on the run and jumping over the body.

"Control room coming up on the right!" Bugs called.

"Fire into it as we go!" Garibaldi shouted back. "Second squad, breach and clear!"

On their right the blank wall changed to a series of low windows that revealed a room behind filled with computers and a few personnel, mostly officers and technicians responsible for controlling and checking the status of the cannon, its actual targeting controls were in a different building miles away.

The Platoon ran past, firing on full automatic into the room as they went, shattering the glass and spraying the area with Plasma fire, throwing down the Dilgar occupants or making them find cover. Close behind the second half of the Platoon shot through the door and rushed into the room, spreading out and finishing the job.

Lieutenant Fox quickly surveyed the scene.

"Crowbar, take first squad and plant the charges, the gun chamber is through those end blast doors."

"Got it ma'am."

"Second squad, tear this room apart, if it looks expensive or useful, fry it."

The two halves of the platoon did as ordered, Jenny joining Garibaldi as they opened the blast doors.

"Wow, that looks like it's gonna cost some money to fix."

The Chamber ahead was gigantic, nearly half a mile long and two hundred yards wide criss crossed by catwalks and piping. It dropped about a quarter mile straight down, deep enough to allow the vast cannon to trundle back on its recoil tracks without hitting bedrock. Above them thick metal doors remained closed and in front was the gun itself. It was a huge weapon, but thin and exposed not requiring the thick casing or protective armour of a warship mounted cannon. That lack or attached armour would be its downfall.

"There, the gun trunions." Garibaldi spotted. "The part where it pivots holding it to the mechanisms."

"I don't see anyone." Jenny scanned around the cavern. "But we better do this quick."

The platoon took position around the elevation mechanism, garrisoning the catwalks and setting up to cover the engineers who began to lay charges. The amount of explosives were relatively small, but when triggered they would focus their blast onto the metal of the pivots, cutting one of the trunions and detaching the gun from the wall, at which point it would either jam or break off completely and fall back into the chamber.

"I think you guys have this under control." Jenny said. "Hate to love you and leave you…"

"It's fine, get going." Garibaldi nodded. "See if White platoon needs you, we're expecting a counter attack."

"Alright, take it easy Crowbar." She stood to leave.

"Hey Jenny," He called to her, and she turned. "Don't do anything stupid up there."

"It's me." She flashed a white small, standing out from the black painted face, then darted away.

"Yeah," He muttered. "That's what I'm afraid of."

EAS Nemesis

Liberation navy

Captain Tennant like most of the other bridge crew clamped his hands over his ears to blot out the noise, the long squealing peel of metal on metal echoing and reverberating across the ship, every deck, wall and bulkhead shaking as the engines pushed one way and friction sought to hold them back. After what felt like forever the noise stopped and a more silent atmosphere returned.

"We made it, damage reports filtering through." Commander Anderson barked. "Looks like a series of breaches on the Starboard side."

"I don't believe they tried to ram us." Tennant shook his head. "Damn uncivilized, we invented guns to avoid that sort of unwanted contact."

"The Dilgar are growing increasingly fanatical sir, I've seen a dozen suicide runs in the last few minutes."

"Well my girl doesn't like it." Tennant fumed, smoothing out his grass skirt. "You know Lady Nemesis and what she's like, there's the whole personal space issue!"

"Yes sir."

"She doesn't like physical contact, she's a member of the aristocracy, she looks down her nose at ships that try to couple like that."

"I'm sure she does sir." Anderson went along with it.

"So prioritise targets that cross within a hundred miles, I don't want anyone getting close, especially if they are packing nukes."

"Rate we're going sir this whole battle is going to close to within a hundred miles."

"That may be." Tennant nodded. "But I suppose it gives us less chance to miss."

"Sir, we've got Dilgar on all sides, the whole fleet is surrounded!"

"Good, makes it easier to find them and kill them." Tennant gave a sharp grin. "We've got them right where we want them."

The ship shuddered slightly as the great guns discharged at a distant target, ripple firing along the length of the ship. Each gun turret would fire a burst, and as it stopped the next in line took over. It gave the dreadnought a constant curtain of fire reaching out and burning into the enemy, compensating slightly for the relatively long recharge time between individual shots.

One of the big disadvantages the Dreadnoughts had was their rate of fire, restricted by both the capacitor size and the cooling systems on the guns themselves. If the guns fired for too long, drawing energy direct from the power grid it would simply melt the gun barrels to stubs, which had happened once or twice during the war as Earth Forces found themselves hard pressed and on the defensive. Ripple firing was usually sufficient, though against numerous opponents or against a large enemy vessel broadsides or alpha strikes were still the order of the day.

"Captain, incoming signal." Anderson broke off. "Message from command, subchannel ID confirmed."

"What does it say?"

"Alter course, new heading two zero nine by one zero zero."

Tennant checked the course. "Right into the heaviest concentration of enemy ships."

"Aye sir."

"Well ours is not to reason why. Make the change, hard about, warn the gun crews to correct for drift."

"Yes sir, helm responding."

"Ours is not to reason why, ours is not to make reply, ours is but to do and die." Tennant chuckled grimly. "All in the Valley of Death Commander, flank speed."

The Allied fleet was surrounded by light and fire, pelted by Dilgar gunfire and answering in kind. The Liberation navy had run down the Dilgar fleet, not content to perform their usual tactic of rushing forward, halting, and then barraging the enemy with massed gunfire the allies had continued onwards all guns blazing and collided with the Dilgar, sometimes literally as an assortment of hybrid wrecks attested, allied and Dilgar ships merged together nose to nose.

Both fleets were now intermingled, fighting as individual task forces, pentacans and battlegroups. It was a new for of war, a point blank melee with massive warships swooping and firing on each other from just a few miles away. Ships designed to engage across thousands of miles of void were now simply close enough to open airlocks and fire small arms at each other as they passed.

Jha'dur and the Dilgar commanders had wanted this, they wanted to get in close to Earth Force to cut down on the reaction times of the interceptor batteries and score more hits, plus it protected them from the feared saturation nuclear strikes. They had not tried to avoid this situation but embraced it, slightly surprised but very pleased Hamato had brought his forces into point blank range. It was the type of battle they were trained and willing to fight.

But Hamato had his own reasons, and while fighting like this was advantageous to the Dilgar it also gave his ships an edge. Like the Dilgar his crews were trained and ready for this sort of close in knife fighting, but unlike the Dilgar who had modified their ships for such a fight the human vessels had been designed from the ground up for exactly this situation. Even without interceptors offering blanket protection Earth Force armour was second to none, a thick layering of composite materials and exotic alloys that could shrug off enemy fire. Alien ships were designed with many different priorities, but Earth ships were made to survive, to absorb massive damage and keep fighting, to lose vast swathes of their structure and still keep firing and fighting.

The Earth Forces had endurance, something the Dilgar ships didn't, and so while it seemed Hamato was playing Jha'dur's game he was in fact fighting to his own set of advantages. Both human and Dilgar fleets were built and trained for this, both sides had the nerve and the unshakeable will to see this through to its bloody end, and both Commanders had thrown in their lot and would now let their ships and crews decide victory. The big difference was that the Dilgar needed to destroy every single allied ship to guarantee victory. Hamato only had to destroy one.

The Liberation fleet began to alter its course as instructed. They had driven like a wedge into the middle of the Dilgar fleet, splitting it like an axe splits wood and divided the enemy into two halves. Now they rounded on one of those halves, the side that had Jha'dur and consequently contained the largest and best ships in the Dilgar navy.

Light vessels flitted back and forth, Dilgar frigates desperately tried to evade Vree and Markab hunting squadrons, finding their speed insufficient and having their ships torn apart around them, from the stern forward, losing armour and structure as antimatter ate through their commands and condemned to a helpless demise. Capital ships exchanged fire, bright plumes of fire and smoke marking impacts as they unloaded an assortment of weapons against each other, each with a variety of effects. Between all of this the fighters still danced their ballet of pirouettes and twirls, each graceful move framed in fire and rolling destruction.

"Come on squadron! Keep it together Ghosts!"

Hague slammed on the afterburners, crushing him back into his seat as the universe outside rushed past, going between warships in the blink of an eye. He saw his target up ahead, a squadron of missile armed fighters.

He immediately went into the attack, cutting afterburners at the last possible second and braking hard so he didn't overshoot, the manoeuvre an incredibly strain on his body and senses as he fought to not only stay conscious but to align his guns on the enemy and slot into a perfect firing position.

He rolled on the axis of the fighter, twisting as though his guns were pinned to an imaginary wall and the rest of the Fury simply pivoted effortlessly around them. He had set himself up well, almost matching the course and velocity of the Dilgar squadron, flying parallel to them with the closest fighter dead in his sights completely unaware of the danger that had come out of nowhere.

He opened fire, the blue plasma slicing into two of the closest Thoruns causing one to outright explode while the second folded in half, its spaceframe severed by the human made guns. The Dilgar squadron broke away hard, but by that point the rest of the Ghost riders were in action and the strike squadron barely lasted a further ten seconds.

"I'm getting a lot of interference on scans." Lieutenant Ryan informed. "Hard to pick out targets at more than a few miles."

"Lot of jamming and ECM, ours and theirs." Hague agreed. "Forcing us into close range duels."

"They've been pretty easy to stop so far." Ryan said. "Didn't the Dilgar have an Ace pilot?"

"The old man got him." Hague said. "Must have done, we took out the rest of his squadron in the last battle."

"So its just the regulars out here?"

"It's enough, don't underestimate these guys." Hague warned. "They've seen more action than any of us, keep alert and don't give them an opportunity to kill you, they will take it."

As he spoke he saw a message filter up on his main screen, fresh orders from the Commander of the Nemesis giving his squadron a new patrol sector.

"Okay Ghosts, looks like we're on the move, form up and lets go. Ryan stick to me like glue and keep a loose formation."

"Got it boss."

Hague set his jaw a little, realising how much like Sinclair he had sounded and how the Commander had treated him as a rookie in the exact same way he now treated Lieutenant Ryan. It was like coming around full circle, and both comforting and saddening.

"Stay with me and you'll be fine." He stated. "Alright, push the throttles, let's get on it!"

The change was subtle at first, but then became quite clear as the allied ships turned and began pushing in a new direction, a course that took them into the strong and beating heart of the Dilgar fleets, the massed Dreadnought and Cruiser squadrons and the final two Sekhmet Pentacans. Those ships had been priority targets and had suffered accordingly, reduced to half their strength over the course of the last battle. The survivors had been grouped together into two rapid response units of four ships each, with one group also playing home to a ninth Sekhmet, Jha'durs flagship the Vendetta.

From the information heavy bridge she saw the Allies make their move, giving a slight nod of appreciation.

"Warmaster, sensors show…"

"I see it Captain, Hamato is heading this way."

"His course takes him right through the Dreadnought Pentacans."

"He's going for the biggest ships first while he still has his strength, he aims to rip the heart from our navy." Jha'dur mused. "Even if he doesn't survive, he would have removed our main combat strength. Clever move Admiral, but presumptuous."

She watched carefully, every passing second confirming her hypothesis.

"He's growing more bold, stringing his ships along like that. Not like our Admiral Hamato to not have a back up plan."

"Perhaps he does Warmaster, we just can't see it." An'jash offered.

"I don't think so, it looks like he's committed everything to this one single plan, no reserves, no fall back. He either wins totally, or fails entirely. Quite a gamble, I'm a little surprised Hamato had it in him."

"He has no choice Warmaster, if he does nothing he loses, if he fights he may still lose, or he may have a chance at victory however slim."

"Or at the least he dies fighting."

"Does that matter Warmaster?"

"To a human soldier?" She raised an eyebrow. "It matters more than I can put into words. If a Drazi attacked you with a knife and you were unarmed, would you try and grapple him knowing he held every advantage?"

"Of course Warmaster."

"So would they." She nodded at the Earth fleet. "We have the advantage, but they would rather fight and die than just surrender to the inevitable."

"Like us." An'jash said.

"No Captain, not like us. We are doing this because if we don't it's all over. We are here because we stand on the edge of extinction, we fight this hard because we have no choice." She fixed her eyes on the approaching human ships. "They have a choice, they don't have to be here, they don't have to fight so hard against such odds. Yet here they are, ready to fight and ready to die in order to stop us from winning. Even if they can't beat us they can maul us enough so we can't exploit our victory. That is whom we are dealing with Captain. They aren't fanatics, they now exactly what they are doing and of all the things in this life that is the last thing there is that really scares me."

She never lifted her gaze from the screens.

"New orders, Dreadnought groups mass and prepare to attack."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Cruiser and gunship units converge on this point. By turning this way the left flank is largely unengaged. Reform them into an independent strike unit, then hit the allied forces hard from the other side. We'll catch them in a vice Captain, draw them in, seal their escape route, then kill them all."

"Orders on the way."

"And pray we do it before they gut the fleet and turn us all inside out."

Jha'dur shuffled her forces, using light ships to slow the Earth Force advance while she gathered he strength, aligning her Dreadnoughts and Battlecruisers to face the onrush. The allied fleet was slowing down, the simple weight of numbers and thickness of enemy forces was acting like glue, sticking them down and forcing them to wade into action.

Six Dilgar Destroyers raced into battle, engines driving them at full speed towards the human lines, long curls of purple ions jetting out behind them. They were met by waves of plasma fire, the front two ships falling at once, stripped to the keel by the superheated weapons. The remainder returned fire, rolling between the taskforces and spraying particle bolts wildly in all directions. Another one fell to a Brakiri cruiser, crushed to half its length by a gravitic lance while the remaining Destroyers were gradually picked off, shedding debris and hull fragments like a black cloud in their wake.

"Admiral, fresh contacts!" Commander Sterns warned. "Suicide frigates! Port side closing fast!"

Thornhill sighed. "I hate those guys."

The gun crews of the Lexington responded automatically, standing orders were to give priority status to suicide ships and take them out first. While small they were protected enough to take several hits and their nuclear packed prows could cripple even the biggest allied warships. All four cruisers of Thornhill's squadron engaged, blanketing the approach with plasma fire and saturating the enemy ships. She watched the final vessel pounded by plasma rounds, the force of impact wobbling it and boiling away its mass but not forcing it off course, only when it finally exploded entirely did it become harmless.

"Dilgar ships are throwing up a wall in front of us Admiral." Sterns announced gruffly. "Lot of heavy ships."

"That won't stop Hamato, any further orders?"

"No Ma'am."

"That means we stay on course and bash through. Standby to concentrate fire ahead, bow batteries ready for salvo fire."

The Lexington Battlegroup held its course, one among many. They swept aside the Dilgar light ships with minimal effort, the heavy guns and interlocking fields of fire proving lethal for the raiders. The Dilgar needed to disrupt the Taskforces, break them up so the smaller ships could pick away at the allies with impunity, and to do that they needed to commit the main strength of the Grand Fleet.

Jha'dur had held these ships in reserve as long as she dared. They were the best she had, not mass produced and hastily built ships made quickly these past few months, but old warships that had survived since the beginning of the conflict. These vessels had been built to last, made from the finest armour materials and while still inferior in protection to human ships, they were numerous and they were dangerous. They were to be the core of the new Imperial fleet, but if she did not commit them right now there would be no new Imperium.

The Dilgar ships took formation, arranged themselves, then put their guns on target, waiting for the order. It did not take long to come.

Dozens of allied ships exploded in the opening salvos, cut out of the sky by the massed guns of the Dilgar Dreadnought groups. Heavy bolt fire coupled with lasers and missiles scourged Hamato's lines, destroying whole taskforces in a matter of moments. The allied response was no less fierce, raising the intensity of the battle as the capital ships responded, testing themselves a final time against their opposite numbers. These forces were the pride of their respective races, the mightiest and glorious of the naval arms, and they set upon each other like wolves.

Massive ragged lines opened in the enemy gun wall, heavy ships blasted out of formation, falling backwards in pieces like drunks staggering out of a bar. For every Dilgar ship lost, there was another to take its place on the line, something the allies could not match.

"Admiral sir, forward taskforces reporting heavy casualties!"

Hamato took the report with a curt nod. "Press the attack, we can't outflank them, we must go right through them."

"We might lose a thousand ships sir."

"Then we lose them, but we need Jha'dur dead." He responded coldly. "Now, press the attack."

Ship after ship raced forward, tearing deep into the enemy formations before inevitably succumbing. Jha'dur was playing it safe, keeping her Dreadnoughts at long range and bombarding the Liberation fleet while she sent cruisers and destroyers to attack at point blank range. Several times she lost warships to friendly fire, caught between the Dreadnought groups of either side and ripped to shreds without mercy.

"Focus fire!" Vice Admiral Thornhill demanded. "Watch those gunships!"

Her cruiser squadron energised itself, moving in graceful slow motion to meet the incoming threat, a Pentacan of Tratharti class gunships and escort. The long EA ships slew themselves around, cutting engines and spinning on their central axis to deliver the heaviest firepower. Plasma cannons thudded in their cradles, a storm of blue energy meeting the hostile vessels. In return the Dilgar also fired back, rapid salvoes of bolt fire straddling the formation.

The interceptors took some of the hits, but several rounds got through and struck the ships. Three hits grazed the Lexington, causing superficial damage while her sister the Brooklyn took a direct hit, smashing the jump projectors slung under the forward hull.

"Take them now!"

One of the Tratharti's exploded as its reactor was annihilated, taking a damaged destroyer with it. The other ships roared through the formation, turreted guns swung and tracked, bolt cannons punching into grey armour while the more destructive EA weapons cored clean through their opponents at such range.

"Check fire starboard, new contacts port, fire when ready!"

No sooner had they dealt with one set of ships than another appeared, rising up from the ECM heavy battlefield with little warning and engaging the Lexington group. This time more help was at hand, and the entire enemy Pentacan vanished in a matter of seconds, dozens of tracing red lasers slicing and carving their thin hull as a Nova Dreadnought added its considerable prowess to the fight.

"Lexington Battlegroup this is Nemesis." Captain Joe Tennant announced grandly. "As I recall you were meant to be escorting my party girl to the ball."

"We got a little side tracked Joe." Admiral Thornhill chuckled back over the channel. "What's your status?"

"Couple of extra ventilation holes, nothing too bad Admiral."

She checked a visual image of the Dreadnought as she came closer, the hull was shot through in several sections and the mighty ship was leaking a steady stream of white air from numerous ruptures and breaches.

"You sure you're in a fit state for this Joe?"

"Yes Ma'am, Lady Nemesis has a score to settle. Our weapons and engines are operational, as long as we can get where we're going and then blow up anything around us we'll be just fine."

"Alright Captain, form on my starboard side, we'll cover your flanks and add some forward firepower."

"And Nemesis will stab you a hole through there."

The four cruisers split into pairs, taking position on either side of the Dreadnought.

"Commander, any spare ships in the area?"

Sterns quickly ran over his display. "Yes Ma'am, I have a missile cruiser and escorts."

"Attach them to this group."

"Yes Admiral."

"We're going to break that Dilgar line, take them from a corner while their focused on the main battlegroups centred around the flagship."

Sterns quickly sent the orders, using Thornhill's authority to assign a group of Frigates and corvettes to provide additional support to the ad hoc task force.

"Admiral, we have eight fighter squadrons in the area and providing cover."

"Excellent Commander."

"And one of them is the Thirteenth."

"Ghost riders?" Thornhill recalled. "Now I feel better."

"All ships answering combat ready and in formation." Sterns reported.

"Then its time to do this, increase speed to flank, set weapons to front and engage as soon as we find a decent target."

The formation powered up, engines roaring silently as they advanced in perfect formation. The interceptors and defensive guns kept up a steady fire, tracers spiralling out and knocking down random fighters or light ships that strayed too close. They aimed for a corner of the Dilgar Dreadnought group, not having the strength to take them head on Thornhill resolved to try and get behind them and sow as much damage as she could from there.

The fleet proceeded bravely, each of the ships carrying scars but not complaining or flinching. Their advance was a brave one, and it did not go unnoticed.

"Enemy fighters!" Hague called, the dark mass of the Nemesis on his left side. "Break right and engage."

"I don't see them, I've got nothing on scopes!" Ryan called back.

"Pick up your eyes Ed, engine glows, Dilgar purple, break now and intercept!"

The Squadron of Starfuries followed orders, a second unit joining them in rushing to battle. They closed head on, fearless and determined as the enemy resolved before them, several full squadrons of Thoruns many carrying high yield anti ship missiles.

"Keep moving, don't give them an easy target." Hague ordered. "Go for missile armed ones first, you know the drill, now get 'em!"

He jinked a little just to throw off the last fraction or the enemies aim, then fired. The Dilgar shot back, a massive stream of incoming rounds that claimed the three slowest Starfuries, but fortunately missed the more agile and prepared pilots. The Dilgar lost far more fighters, but had a massive numerical advantage and were not significantly weakened. The tiny force of Furies whizzed past, pivoting hard and claiming more kills before firing afterburners to halt their current course and double back, something which took precious seconds even at full power.

Hague filled this time by firing on the fast receding Thoruns, claiming a further kill before he stopped moving backwards and started again towards the scratch fleet.

"Boss, better check fuel status." Lieutenant Ryan cautioned. "This afterburner goes through it faster than a cop goes through donuts."

"We've got plenty, don't worry about it, worry about the Thoruns in front of you." Hague responded. "We're going for the flight dead ahead, watch your fire, try not to hit our own ships."

His view ahead was filled with flashing lights as the point defences engaged the incoming squadrons, sometimes the small pale bullets sailed into nowhere, fading like dimming lights, other times the ended in a quick bright flash. While this was happening the larger ships had other problems, a fresh set of enemy cruisers and destroyers had been sent to intercept them and were keeping the big guns focused on the larger threat. There were two separate battles gong on, the mighty exchange of fire between warships and then the swarming fighters. Each one was as vital as the other.

The Missile cruiser blossomed smoke as it launched several devices, some for the enemy fighters and some sweeping over to engage the warships. While this ship like its sisters had fired all its nukes it had plenty of less destructive weapons primed and ready.

A whole flight of Thoruns were wiped out by a missile, the body breaking open and spewing submunitions into their flanks, shredding them like tissue. Further away two missiles blasted into a cruiser, the warheads designed to transmit kinetic energy to the structure of the ship and literally shake it apart. The explosive fireball was small, but across its hull the Dilgar ship suffered split hull panels, ruptured power lines and crew casualties.

Hague flew over a Rail gun frigate, its forward guns shooting solid rounds at the distant enemy while its aft weapons helped keep the fighters at bay, firing canister rounds like giant buckshot or proximity fused flak shells.

"Ed, roll right, stay with me!" Hague ordered, swing his fighter around. "Shoot!"

He stopped the turn, his canopy filled with Thoruns flitting past, their wings heavy with missiles. He destroyed two in short order, noting a third go down to Ryan's fire streaming past beside him. He slotted in behind the Dart fighters and kept firing, trusting his wingman to keep his back free of escorts.

A Thorun barely a hundred yards away shattered as an interceptor claimed it, razor sharp fragments plinking from his Fury as he flew past, trying to bring down as many enemies as possible. Two of them back flipped and tried to engage, and he had to break of pursuit and deal with them first, destroying one as mid flip and the other almost nose to nose, his plasma cannons tearing away most of its mass in one violent burst.

"They're going for the Nemesis!" Ryan warned.

It was a natural choice, the Dreadnought was a fire magnet soaking up hits from all the enemy forces in the area, and of course returning them with interest. The ugly ship fired incessantly, its guns eating through raw materials at an alarming rate but delivering the desired results. Hulks lay in her wake along with sections of larger vessels sliced clean off by the intensity of the laser cannons. She was a deadly ship, but she was just one ship.

Hague swung his fighter through a tight turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with the Lexington as he engaged the next set of fighters along, this ones moving much faster and closer to the Earth ships. One or two fell to interceptors, but these pilots were smart enough to stay close to the hulls of the grey vessels to fool the interceptor grid. They could not however fool the Starfuries.

He rushed across the hull of the Lexington, the dirty grey rushing past in a blur as he rolled past the upper turret, the plasma cannons belching massive discharges of light at a distant foe as he focused on his target. He looped all the way around the warship until he found the shot, smashing the trident shaped fighter to scrap.

He had no time to relax, his entire sensor screen screamed warning and targets, it was easy to get overwhelmed by the sheer influx of data, but Hague was trained to view it objectively, picking the critical targets and going for them first.

Again the Starfury engines burned, and again the enemy fighters came into view. This time they were racing for the Dreadnought at full speed.

"Come on, come on!" He pushed the fighter to its limits. "Give it all you've got girl!"

He opened the afterburners again, the system complaining at the frequent use but he ignored it. Plasma cannons flared and another Dart fighter fell. These ones were at full burn, and as one of his first lessons had told him a Thorun could easily outrun a Starfury if it wanted to, and these guys really wanted to.

He brought down a second and third target, but every second took them further away, and in that time Ryan only nailed one. Interceptors accounted for another three, but that still left four that escaped him.

"Out of range!" Hague cursed. "Bastards!"

"They had missiles didn't they?" Ed checked.

"Yeah, out of our hands now, lets focus on the ones we can kill." He flung the controls around in hangar. "With me Ed, keep your mind on the job!"

The surviving Thoruns didn't turn away or even launch missiles, instead they flew into the side of the Nemesis at full burn, the missiles detonating in a great sheet of flame that lapped over he flank of the Dreadnought and left a gaping and burning hole deep in her side.

"I hate it when that happens." Tennant grunted.

"That hit cut power to three turrets." Anderson stated. "Damage control is on it."

"They better get on it fast, we've got a lot of company out here."

The forward guns lit up again, slicing the heart out of a Dilgar Battlecruiser with barely any effort, the strike leaving about a third of the ship entirely hollowed out through the middle.

Thoruns and Starfuries duelled about her, skimming her hull and often ducking into the superstructure to avoid fire or hide in ambush. Most of the fighters had no effect on the vessel and even a few stray rounds proved ineffective against the armour, but the occasional missile still got through and with just the heavy guns and no secondary armament the Dreadnought was at serious risk if the escorts were overwhelmed.

The missile cruiser beside them was also under heavy attack, its hull wreathed in smoke from the continuous launches. It took a bolt cannon hit to the bow, the shot crashing deep into the hull through the generation old armour. In response the cruiser fired a massive strike, perhaps sensing its days were ended and tried to get as many missiles in the air as possible.

The sky for a while was full of contrails, looping and weaving anti fighter missiles exploded among the heavy warships, spraying hostiles with lethal ordnance while the larger anti ship missiles sped away on other targets. The cruiser itself was shattered by gunfire, destroyed conclusively, but the Dilgar cruiser had little time to savour the victory before a dozen plasma warheads punctured its metal skin and tore it apart.

Each of the human ships came under fire, but the Nemesis was taking the brunt of the attack. Her armour was holding as designed, but it had a limit and that time was fast approaching. It did however mean the cruisers of the group weren't under as much pressure as they should have been, and while not as potent as a Dreadnought they still outgunned virtually any ship in the Dilgar arsenal and proved time and again.

A jagged hole had formed in the side of the Lexington, a deep gash caused by a suicide run that still glowed molten hot. Beside her the Brooklyn was in worse shape, a massive chunk missing beneath the bow, but both ships held their course and kept firing, their combat abilities unaffected. On the other side of the Nemesis the EAS Vladivostok was in a worse condition, leaking fuel and air in a glowing pillar of flame that streamed out behind it on both sides. Again she was still firing, but had lost a number of mounts to enemy actions and was in no real state to keep fighting.

"Better check those targets ahead." Tennant warned. "They look big."

"Confirmed, battlecruisers, Tratharti class."

"Copy to the Lexington and coordinate fire, They made the mistake of crossing our bow."

The forward guns of the Dreadnought quickly aligned and engaged, joined by three of the four remaining cruisers. The Dilgar ships continued to close, losing several of their number but not giving up. The exchange of fire was devastating, and while Earth Force had brute strength on their side the Dilgar weren't too shabby in the firepower stakes either. A large slab of the forward armour plate was shorn from the Nemesis, falling away and spinning into the distance while the guns spoke.

"Enemy ships aren't breaking off!" Anderson shouted, the noise of the impacts echoing and making communication difficult.

"Course they aren't, that old witch of theirs told them to attack!" Tennant called back. "They're more scared of her than Lady Nemesis!"

"Then they must be really terrified to try and take a Dreadnought head on!"

"And not just any Dreadnought, the ruling Queen of all things that shoot, slice, dice or otherwise do violence to ugly people."

"They really don't know who they are dealing with do they sir?"

"Biggest mistake of their lives picking a fight with Lady Nemesis. Shame they won't be able to tell their friends, being dead and all."

"Well by this time all their friends are dead too."

"Good point. In fact, we should shoot more to give them a little company. It's the humanitarian thing to do."

"Yes sir, killing Dilgar is actually doing them a favour." Anderson shook his head.

"Damn straight." Tennant nodded firmly. "Now, shank 'em."

"Concentrating fire, we're… Hell, new contacts on port side, closing fast!"

"Split fire, warn the escorts."

"I'm seeing a suicide ship!"

"Then go ahead and make it vanish!"

Hague had his work cut out, stripping enemy fighters before they got in range of the point defences. He was so busy he barely noticed the half dozen Dilgar warships cruise past, much less that they were trying to kill him.

"Watch it boss! That Frigate has your number!"

He spun hard away, pulsar fire tracing his every move as the Dilgar frigate sped by, its engines glowing white hot through the hull. Even as he watched, predicting its arcs of fire the Frigate shuddered to a stop, a bright red light flaming at its bow as the Taskforce fired on it. The stern glowed brighter, then a red streak of energy punched trough between the engines, a blast from the Nemesis that had impaled the small enemy vessel and burned out most of its insides, leaving the ship externally rather intact but melted within.

Another ship fell to a rail gun strike, the Artemis Frigate in question possessing something of an elite guncrew that had learned exactly where the worst possible impact site on every Dilgar ship class was, and then trained themselves to hit it with one shot. Missiles from the Corvettes claimed another, the relatively light weapons doing damage in numbers.

However the larger Dilgar ships were not so easily stopped, and behind them, sheltering in cover of the green hulls was a Delegor class suicide frigate, its crew determined to claim the Nemesis as their prize and dowry to the afterlife.

Plasma and laser fire ate away at the larger ships, flaying their hulls and cutting deep into the internals. Up ahead the Dreadnought was struck by bolt fire, while one of the cruisers had the entirety of its lower tower sliced off by a laser strike. The Dilgar ships fell away, but they were getting much closer than was safe.

The Lexington hammered one of the Dilgar ships, turning its rounded hull into a molten mess of flames still rushing along at full speed. The next vessel in line suffered a magazine explosion, its whole forward half atomised by a direct hit, exposing the suicide frigate. The Nemesis struck her with two beams, the rest missing by a slight margin, cutting a groove in the virtually solid forward hull but not even slowing it.

In the end the Vladivostok stopped it, the wrecked cruiser putting itself in the path of the suicide frigate at the last moment, too late for it to turn away. In a normal battle the heavily damaged ship would have withdrawn, but there was too much at stake in this one. Her ending was brief but noble, both the suicide ship and the cruiser enveloped in a bright light.

The Dreadnought was battered by the near proximity explosion, overloading systems and battering the hull. Sections already weakened burst open as the ship was assaulted.

"We're losing engine power!" Anderson warned. "It's the fuel feeds!"

"Oh not those again, they damn near killed us at Markab!"

"This time they're shutting down, not jammed open." Anderson replied. "We're drifting."

"Where to?"

"Thankfully nowhere, but we're going to be out of the fight."

"No we're not!" Tennant jabbed a finger. "No we are not! Get them fixed!"

"Sir, we'd need a shipyard and…"

"Fix it Commander!" Tennant demanded. "We're not going to sit here while our fleet is neck deep in plasma. Get me a channel to the Lady Lex."

"Open sir."

"Nemi to Lex, we're having some engine troubles here."

"I can see Captain." Thornhill replied. "And I mean that literally, you're missing most of your side, I can see right into your hull."

"Sorry Admiral, Lady Nemesis doesn't like to reveal quite so much to the public." He shrugged. "She's not normally that kind of girl."

"Do you need an escort?"

"No Admiral, we can still shoot, you better take every ship and get back to the fight. We'll join you presently."

She looked over at Sterns, one dreadnought crippled and alone was just asking to be nuke bait.

"You sure Captain?"

"Take every ship Admiral, we'll be fine."

Sterns shook his head, giving his view of the warships chances.

"Very well Captain, good luck."

"We'll be back, I still have that score to settle."

Thornhill nodded to the helm, and the remaining ships accelerated, leaving the crippled Dreadnought behind leaking gas and flame and several hundred thousand tons lighter due to battle damage.

"You have my prayers Captain." She said softly. "Helm, increase to flank, we can't turn their line without Dreadnought support. Lets rejoin the main battle and do what we can there, into the fire Commander, no turning back."

Balos

Dilgar Fort

"That's it, charges set." Barked the combat engineer. "Let's get the hell out of dodge!"

"Music to my ears." Garibaldi agreed. "Crowbar to Foxy, job's done, cake is set and baking."

"Understood Crowbar, link up at the control room and let's get out of here."

"Confirmed, on my way." He looked around. "Okay squad, let's go!"

They ran along the catwalk suddenly coming under fire, blue pulses sweeping across the open space from the other side of the chamber.

"Return fire!" He ordered, firing a few blasts himself. On the far side he spotted three enemy soldiers, the source of the fire, and was proud to see the squad shoot back with great accuracy and overwhelming volume, bringing down all three of them in seconds. One of them pitched over the railing, falling silently into the darkness below their feet and vanishing.

"Keep going, move it!"

They turned back into the facility itself and found Lieutenant Fox waiting for them with the rest of the platoon. She immediately made her start, half sprinting and half jogging back the way that had come, encountering no more enemies on the way. They made it right back to the entrance of the tunnels, the squat building Blue Platoon was holding and apparently having their work cut out for them.

The soldiers were heavily engaged, firing from the window slits as Dilgar gunfire raked the structure, sometimes passing through the windows themselves. Three wounded soldiers lay at the back of the room patched up with bloodstained bandages while the rest of the unit were busy elsewhere.

"What happened?" Fox ducked under a stream of gunfire and crouched by a wall.

"That counter attack we were expecting?" Lieutenant Emerson of Blue platoon answered. "Well this is it, heavy strength of arms, at least a Brigade according to the latest from the Colonel."

Fox cursed. "We need to get out of here, this place is a death trap."

"White Platoon is still holding the buildings by our escape route, but they're under major attack, even with Balosian help they can't hold for long."

She took a quick glance through the windows, not impressed by what she saw.

"There are Dilgar in the buildings by the edge of the street there, looks like that's where the main fire is coming from."

"We're keeping them busy." Emerson confirmed. "But every time we clear a window a different kitty just replaces whoever was there last."

"Too far for a grenade." She frowned. "Missiles?"

"Worth a try." Emerson agreed. "Sergeant Abraham, get some Hammers out!"

Red Platoon joined their comrades at the windows, increasing the rate of fire. It was only a few hundred yards to their escape tunnel that led back into the underdwellings, but the journey from their current position to there was a storm of gunfire and explosions, already scattered with dark uniformed Dilgar bodies and a few paler uniformed humans and Balosians.

"Watch front!" a member of blue platoon warned, and Garibaldi looked to see a group of Dilgar rushing towards them over open ground.

"Take them!" He ordered, then opened fire himself.

The Dilgar soldiers were caught in a dozen sights, cut down in seconds by the accurate fire as they advanced without any protection. Their comrades tried to give them some cover fire but it didn't make much difference. It did serve to show Garibaldi and his squad mates what would happen if they tried to make a run for it across the now saturated open ground to the exit.

"Make way." Sergeant Abrahams spoke flatly, Garibaldi's opposite number in Blue Platoon. He and two colleagues brought a trio of Hammer missiles to the firing window and rested them on the edge.

"Clear behind!" Garibaldi said, making sure the back wash from the launchers didn't hurt anyone. "Okay Abe, hit it!"

The trio of missiles jetted out, filling the small bunker building with white smoke that would have choked them if not for their sealed helmets. The trio of projectiles slammed at once into the building opposite, puffing smoke and a flash of flame into the air. They took a big chunk out of the face of the building, but did not demolish it. Despite their power the Hammer missile was an anti tank weapon designed to focus its power in one direction to cut through armour and not do a large amount of collateral damage like a conventional blasting charge. They sent a jet of flame and plasma clean through the occupied building, but did little harm to anything not directly in their path.

"Still there." Garibaldi noted as the smoke cleared, a pile of rubble and a few extra holes the only real affect of the strike.

"Keep shooting." Fox ordered. "Maybe we can kill enough to give us a chance."

He resumed firing with his PPG, aiming for any windows where he saw a flash. While the buildings opposite were not as solidly built as the bunker like structure he was in, it was taller and larger meaning more Dilgar could fire at one time on the human position. The simple weight of fire was staggering, and it was lucky the Dilgar made their buildings so resilient to gun fire or else the two besieged platoons would have been in serious trouble.

"Keep them at bay Sergeant." Fox told him. "I'll try and contact Regiment, see if the Colonel can help us out with an assault from the other direction."

She tapped her helmet and activated her comms system "Foxy to Command."

"Lieutenant." A voice answered, instantly recognised as Francis. "The Dilgar are jamming your communications, but I've managed to set up a secure link."

"I was trying to get in touch with Colonel Longstreet."

"You can talk in person soon, he's retreating back this way." Francis informed

"He's retreating?"

"Yes Lieutenant, the rest of the Regiment achieved their objectives and is pulling back, I thought you were too?"

"It's on my to do list." She hissed. "We need some support, we're under some serious fire here."

"I'll pass it on, but last I heard they were in some serious fighting of their own, I don't think they can hit back."

"Okay Francis, let me know."

"I have an idea."

The voice came from directly beside Garibaldi, a space that he thought was empty. The Sergeant shot a glance sideways and saw it was the Balosian hunter Tisket, legendary for his stealthy approaches.

"Will you stop that! Gives me the creeps!" Garibaldi snapped, then frowned. "How did you get in here, no way are you that good?"

"There is another tunnel, branching off from the one you used to find the cannon." He informed unfazed. "It comes out behind those buildings, near your friends of the White Platoon, among an industrial area."

"A different exit?" Fox cut in.

"Yes, it is a longer journey, but not cut off yet."

"We're going." She announced. "Prepare to move."

"What if they follow us?" Garibaldi asked.

"We've still got some C-20 haven't we?" She delivered a mischievous smile. "Leave them a going away present."

A few minutes later they began to fall back, Tisket leading them back into the tunnels but this time taking a different turn through the labyrinth. Garibaldi fired a few more shots through the windows, then jumped into the tunnel entrance and closed the trapdoor behind him.

"Run!" He yelled. "Burn off those pies Tucker, get those legs going!"

The Dilgar noted the slackening of fire and launched another assault, running up to the low slung building without hindrance. They flattened themselves against the wall and fired a few bursts into the window slits, having no fire return.

Expertly they fixes a charge to the door, backed away and blew the patched up aperture off its hinges before storming in. Five seconds later the whole structure fractured in lumps of concrete and twisted steel as the C-20 charge went off, sealing the back of the tunnel and preventing easy pursuit.

Elsewhere Francis was on edge, hiding in a more secluded position within the Balosian caves listening to the battle chatter both from orbit and outside. The battle was reaching a crescendo, approaching its high point as the waves of metal clashed in orbit and the Dilgar infantry counter attacked on the ground. Earth Forces had struck across the planet, laying in wait for this moment when the fleet returned to try and break the Dilgar once and for all. They had hit bases and ground stations across the globe, destroying aircraft on the ground and depriving the Dilgar of the reserve stations and the sophisticated sensors and communications they held.

From what he heard on the command frequencies the offensive had gone well resulting in massive loss of facilities with light allied casualties, the element of surprise giving them a swift victory. However as the battle went on and the Dilgar recovered from the shock they had begun fighting back hard, forcing the Earth and Balosian forces back into the tunnels to make their stand.

It had been a valuable victory, removing scores of enemy squadrons that could have greatly harmed the allied fleets and by destroying the ground sensor stations had effectively blinded the Dilgar, forcing them to fight in an ECM heavy environment where they couldn't always trust their sensors.

Many had died, but if it gave the fleet a better chance then it was worth it, and it was one more solid step towards ending the war. All they could do now was rely on the Navy and hope they could beat Jha'dur and finally, at long last liberate this long suffering planet.

He listened in fascination, focusing on the fleet communications and trying to visualise the flow of battle, the unimaginable carnage of such massive ships battling at such close range, close enough for infantry weapons to reach across and pelt their enemies. He couldn't tell who was winning, just that both sides were taking heavy losses and both sides were fast approaching their breaking point.

He didn't notice that he was not alone until the very last possible second. He cursed himself, especially after narrowly avoiding trouble less than an hour ago. Perhaps his situational awareness still needed perfecting, and that was why he was never meant to go out by himself as a field agent.

He shot his hand out to grab the Tommy gun beside him, only to see it kicked away before his fingers could grab it. A booted foot caught him in the side and flung him over onto his back with a thud, leaving him unarmed and looking up at a hulking dark clothed figure.

The new arrival glared at him, a Dilgar face with one sided scarred by a burn, a long stripe of red skin where a PPG bolt had grazed past. His clothing, the remnants of a stealth suit, hung in tatters ripped and burnt around his strong flame, a long knife clutched in his hand, the same one that had sent Paul Calendar to the grave.

"You're supposed to be dead." Francis said in unaccented Dilgar, something which drew a lengthy grin from the man before him.

"You know our language." Arn'dal, chief of Jha'dur's Spectres stated flatly.

"Amazing what you pick up." Francis returned, the wheels in his mind racing to find a suitable solution to the problem, one that didn't involve getting killed.

"Sat here with your communications, speaking our language, not cowering in a corner like vermin." Arn'dal sneered. "You are the target."

"Me? Nah, I think you got the wrong guy."

"My Warmaster wants you alive, be thankful, it's the only reason you are still breathing." He laughed coldly. "Perhaps not so thankful after you visit Lab Nine."

"Quality time with Jha'dur huh?"

"Perhaps you might not be so confident after you meet her. Perhaps you'd beg for me to kill you. But I'm not going to, you are coming with me."

"No." Francis said, one simple word that translated perfectly.

"It was not a request."

"I'm not going with you."

"You will walk with me, or I will break your legs and carry you."

Francis got to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes.

"Think Jha'dur would appreciate that?"

"She wants you alive. She never mentioned in how many pieces or in what condition."

Francis stared straight into the scarred face. "No."

Arn'dal's smile faded. "As you wish."

Francis struck, throwing a punch at the Spectre, a swift stroke that the Dilgar dodged like it was nothing. He hit back, catching Francis in his jaw and dropping him to the ground, his ears ringing and vision blurred for a few seconds. He found himself rather surprised at the force, and offered no resistance as Arn'dal roughly heaved him up.

"I have a ship waiting, and a different way into these tunnels." He said for his captives benefits. "Your friends can't save you."

"Guess again asshole."

From the dimness at the edge of the tunnel a figure moved, emerging from the black like a true Spectre, a supernatural wraith wisping like smoke from nowhere. Her slim frame walking calmly and precisely forward, elegant and graceful even at these times. Her clothing was dark and streaked in soot and dust, her face likewise painted in greys blacks and reds, resting against the stock of a PPG rifle.

Francis wasn't sure if the blow to the head had made him imagine this black painted saviour, but the way Arn'dal grabbed him and held him as a human shield told him this was real.

"Still there Francis?" Jenny asked, waiting to get a clean shot with her rifle.

"Still here." He smiled back, his teeth pasted in blood from the punch. "I think you met this guy before."

"I know who it is." She said coldly.

Francis felt the cold blade at his neck, he could feel the Spectre's breath on his neck, hot but even betraying no fear or panic.

"He wants to take me alive."

"Something we can use." Jenny said. "I need half a second. One quarter of his skull and half a second, and he's gone."

Arn'dal sneered at the human female. "Tell your friend to lower her gun."

"Go to hell." He spat in Dilgar.

"If she doesn't I'll cut you." He replied. "And you know the toxin on this blade, you've seen what it does."

Francis felt his muscles tense as he remembered Paul.

"Your Warmaster wants me alive."

"You'll live for days after infection, just isn't pretty." Arn'dal answered. "She has a cure, but your friend doesn't. Lower the gun."

"Jenny, he wants you to lower the gun or he's going to give me Paul's virus."

"Like hell he will." She moved closer.

"He will." Francis confirmed. "Jenny, trust me."

"He's not walking out of here, not after what he did, that bastard's going to rot!"

"Jenny, I got an idea, just lower the gun."

"Francis…"

"Trust me, okay, just trust me." He stared right into her eyes. "He killed Paul, and I want him dead too, but just trust me."

Jenny took her eyes off the sights.

Francis smiled. "And get ready."

Slowly Jenny dropped the muzzle of her rifle, noting the Spectre didn't have a ranged weapon of his own, just the knife and a steel bar in his belt.

"Alright." She said.

Arn'dal smiled. "Tell her to put it on the ground."

"He wants you to drop it." Francis relayed. "Get ready okay, right foot."

Jenny lowered the rifle to the floor, glancing at the Spectres right foot and noticing that his boot there was ripped, shredded by gunfire and open revealing a burn to his foot. She took it under advisement, not drawing attention but slowly rising back to stand.

"Okay, he has a ship." Francis said. "I guess we're leaving."

Arn'dal pushed him, forcing him to walk at a shuffle down the tunnel towards an alternate exit, presumably the one Jenny had used. She watched him carefully, she still had the Balosian hunting knives in her waistband and Paul's long barrelled revolver at her waist, but would need a couple of seconds to draw and fire it, and she needed a clean target.

"So then." Arn'dal said. "What to do? I can't leave her here."

"We're taking your ship, she can't follow."

"This one is something else." Arn'dal smiled thinly. "I can sense her hatred, and she has skill, I've seen it. A human Spectre."

"And she doesn't need a gimmicky stealth suit to take your head off."

"It would have saved her life today, and yours." He retaliated. "I think I'll use that antique gun of yours. Tell her to disarm herself, get rid of the other weapons."

"You killed her husband to be." Francis said.

"How sad." Arn'dal said, devoid of feeling.

"Her soulmate."

"Is there a point to you telling me this?"

"So it'll be the last thought that goes through your mind as she cuts your throat!" Francis yelled, then jammed his heel hard down onto the Spectres wounded foot.

The move took Arn'dal utterly by surprise, and it caused him such a shock of pain that his grip lessened enough for Francis to break free with his right arm, though Arn'dal held his left firm. As soon as Francis ducked away Jenny dove for her gun, snatching it up from the floor and swinging it around, but Arn'dal was moving too. She opened fire, a few rounds catching the Specre and bouncing of his body armour as he snatched a rock from the floor and threw it at her, the surprise projectile knocking the rifle from her grip.

Her first plan was to pick it back up, but Arn'dal rushed her, throwing Francis to the floor and roaring in a voice that thundered in the confines of the cave. With no gun he had to attack with the knife, and Jenny didn't have time to draw Paul's old revolver. She did have time to drag out the foot long Balosian blade on her right though.

She barely had it there in time, deflecting the strike and spinning away, withdrawing her second blade while Arn'dal took out his steel bar. They faced each other, a weapon in each hand, committed to the fight, nothing in their way or holding them back.

Francis ran for the Tommy gun, but it was too late, the two combatants struck at each other, blades slicing the air and bodies dodging, weaving and attacking. They were circling each other so fast he couldn't take a clean shot, and Jenny couldn't back off to help him without endangering herself. He could only watch as they took their battle into the caves with their whole world now consisting of the person immediately before them, and the intense desire to take revenge

The Liberation Navy

Above Balos

Captain Robert Lefcourt couldn't take his eyes from the image, the moving pictures of the Heavy Cruiser Adelaide as it fell out of formation beside him. The battle was being waged with massive ferocity, the Allied forces constantly attacking and driving the Dilgar back, pushing them right back to Balos itself, the mass of the planet dominating half the battlespace. The warships were keeping their distance, avoiding the gravity well and the sticky grip of gravity that would slow the combat, but to be so close to their objective, to have reached Balos had lifted spirits across the fleet. But they still had to fight to secure it, and that battle was ongoing.

The Adelaide had done her part, claiming several enemy ships as part of the Lexington battlegroup, but each kill had taken its toll, each victory cost the ship damage and that loss had built up until the warship was a tangle of hull plates and supports. A Tratharti had dealt the final blow, smashing her reactor and throwing the ship out of control and helpless. The Brooklyn and the Lexington herself had dealt with the problem, massing their fire and destroying the heavy Dilgar warship, but in the time it took to do so the Adelaide had drifted away and was now ensnared in the Balosian gravity well.

The ship slowly fell from orbit, at a distance it seemed sluggish but up close the ship would be travelling at thousands of miles per hour. It scraped the upper atmosphere, bursting into flame as friction stripped away the outer armour millimetre by millimetre, widening damaged sections and ripping away protrusions.

Her end was prolonged but spectacular, a shooting star that left a train of black smoke in its wake, shedding thousands of tons of wreckage on the way down, smaller lumps of flaming metal that broke away from the main inferno and followed their own trajectory down to the surface. Finally the structure itself broke up, the three distinct segments separating and rolling through the air, all the way down to the desert below.

Lefcourt couldn't watch the full demise of his sister ship, he felt as a mark of respect he should, but could not. Ahead the Dilgar were still fighting, their battle formation still holding, retreating before the allied attack, flexing and straining, but not yet breaking. Warships on all sides lay broken and burning, but many more still fought, overcoming damage and system failures to stay in the fight. The Brooklyn and Lexington, last of five ships in the group now left continued to battle, bow guns engaging the onrush of enemy ships while the interceptors tried to protect them from the long range battering from the Dilgar gunnery line.

"This is Lexington Actual to Brooklyn, are you there Robert?"

"Here Admiral." He confirmed, his words hollow and tired.

"Taskforce Nineteen is exploiting a gap in the line, all ships are converging on that sector, alter course and follow me in."

"Roger that Admiral." He confirmed. "Helm, set new course, all batteries fire at will."

The Taskforce was heavily engaged, surrounded on all sides by Dilgar cruisers as it moved to attack part of the Dilgar Dreadnought formations. Long range fire had blasted two heavy Mishakurs out of formation and with their forces stretched the Dilgar hadn't plugged the gap, so Taskforce Nineteen decided to do it for them.

The two Novas slaughtered anything in their path, spectacularly carving past six enemy cruisers, their laser batteries firing at full capacity. A small number of escorts followed them, each showing the signs of battle weariness but holding position, firing plasma cannons and rail guns into enemy ships that swarmed them. An Olympus Corvette was blasted in two by a Dreadnought volley, the offending warship finding itself the subject of two Nova broadsides and instant later and suffering the loss of two thirds of its entire mass.

The Lexington sailed into this maelstrom, adding its flexible guns to the fray, knocking down an enemy destroyer with little effort and shrugging off a laser strike in the process. Explosions preceded the fleet like a foaming bow wave before a naval ship, rolling and parting around the small fleet as the wider battle raged on. The gap in the Dilgar lines was visible, just a few cruisers stood in the way and were easy prey for the Taskforce. But the real threat was not from ahead.

"Very well." Warmaster Jha'dur nodded. "Engage at once, concentrate on the Dreadnoughts."

She was down to six Sekhmets, grouped into one over strength Pentacan under her direct command. She recognized the danger in leading from the front, but like Hamato she knew full well that the Sekhmet group was too valuable to leave sat on the sidelines. Both sides needed every ship capable of fighting on the front lines, and the flagships were not exempt.

The broke through the Dilgar line further along, avoiding the vicious melee between the Dilgar mobile fleets and the main Allied groups and diving at full speed towards the errant Taskforce.

"Main cannons armed and locked." An'jash stated.

"Open fire, piercing shot."

The Vendetta engaged, her twin heavyweight lasers streaking out and burning deep into the hull of one of the Nova Dreadnoughts. Her escorts also engaged, the enhanced weaponry among the most powerful and accurate in service. The beams concentrated on one part of the heavily armoured ships, the strongest parts of the vessels where the command and crew sections were housed under metres of protection.

Return fire sailed up to meet them, one of the Sekhmets shuddering as the Brooklyn and Lexington battered its shields with fire but did not falter. Another was less lucky, caught by both wounded dreadnoughts in a crossfire and completely overwhelmed, shattering into a billion pieces no bigger than coins.

The other battlecruisers however proved their worth, the laser cannons burning clean through the ships and emerging on the far side in a pouring of molten metal. One Dreadnought went dark and lost power, the other split neatly in two as the Sekhmets turned away.

"Escorts Warmaster?"

"Leave them, they are no threat." Jha'dur dismissed. "Move us back to the centre and look for where we are needed next."

As swiftly as they arrived the advanced ships left, shrugging off a few parting shots from the cruisers and quickly outpacing them, leaving the hollowed out Task Force to its own devices. She returned behind the core of her fleet and observed the battle, taking note of weakpoints and danger areas.

"I'll give this to Hamato, he knows how to apply pressure."

Despite their numerical advantage every ship in the Dilgar fleet was engaged in battle and feeling the strain. She had seperated her forces into two distinct groups, a wall of Dreadnoughts and a selection of escorts that were facing off against Hamato's main assault, and a second larger group consisting of cruisers and below that were in and amongst the allied ships doing what damage they could. The two halves worked together, with the Dreadnoughts providing the heavy firepower to keep the allies at bay while the mobile forces split Hamato's fire and prevented him from concentrating and blasting straight through her Dreadnought forces with his own nastier models.

"Our forces are holding, but falling back." An'jash stated. "Losses are mounting."

"Ours and theirs." Jha'dur clarified. "Stalemate. As long as we prevent them breaching our core fleet we can bombard them for days if necessary, as long as it takes for them to collapse."

"We have plenty of space to retreat into Warmaster." An'jash gave a little chuckle. "All the way to Omelos."

"And this battle is draining their fuel reserves, especially the Dreadnoughts, and without them Earth Force won't have the power to break through."

"So we just need to outlast them?"

"Exactly Captain, and that is where our numbers come in." Jha'dur nodded. "We just need to draw this out, keep them fighting, a simple question of timing."

She watched the situation, trying to predict what Hamato would do next.

"Problem is Hamato will know everything we do. He isn't going to allow us to wage a war of attrition, he's going to launch one more massive attack while he still can."

"Where Warmaster?"

"I don't know, watch where he sends his ships." She commented, keeping a close watch on the human fleet for any indication of Hamato's intentions. "But I guarantee this isn't enough for him, he's going to attack."

"It will cost him his fleet." An'jash said firmly.

"Perhaps, but it might just cost ours too, and for Hamato that is enough."

On the other side of the war another set of eyes were staring at the exact same readings, another mind running the numbers and coming to the same conclusions. Akira Hamato sat steady, his warship rocked by near misses and the salvo fire from its own guns, enemy destroyers and cruisers constantly trying to break through the wall of EA vessels covering the flagship.

"She has us trapped." He said at last. "She expends her weak ships to keep us occupied while her elite vessels gun us down from range, and we cannot respond."

Even as he spoke he could see a visual image of a Brakiri cruiser erupting in flame, another victim of the merciless enemy fire.

"This is unsustainable."

"Yes sir, we're down to a quarter of our fuel reserves." Patel reported. "We have another fifteen minutes before our guns fall silent, twenty at best."

"And not enough fuel to make it home." He accepted. "If we are going to do something, now is the time."

Far ahead he could see the enemy Dreadnoughts in a wall formation, considerably thinner and more stretched than it was at the start of the fight but still extant and still creating the main obstacle to victory. It was ironically a tactic Hamato himself had used at the battle of Markab, using Dreadnoughts to barrage the enemy while cruisers sallied out to pin and engage targets and close range.

"We have one advantage, Jha'dur has not yet realised our plan, if she had she would be far behind her defences, not among the Dreadnoughts."

"But we still need to get to her Admiral." Patel said grimly. "We're going to need to break their line."

"But only in one point." He stated. "There, where the Sekhmet group is."

Patel checked the readings. "Sir, that is one of the strongest points in the enemy fleet."

"I am aware of that." He nodded, the ship jolting as something hit it. "But it is vital we attack there, and quickly."

He frowned at the display. "The Dilgar line is weakest there." He pointed to part of the display. "She has left it deliberately weak, she wants us to attack there."

"She must realise we'd sense a trap."

"Probably, but she thinks we don't have a choice. We do, we always have a choice."

He focused on the section of the enemy fleet where the Warmaster hid, seeing her vessel behind a protecting wall of Dreadnoughts and cruisers. She was clearly visible, an easy target if he could just get a decent sized force into range. The battle was hanging in the balance, still more than capable of going in either favour. He had to tip those balances, he had to do something spectacular to catch Jha'dur off guard, to take her by surprise and kill her before she realised the truth of his strategy.

He slowly nodded his head, making what was probably the most fateful decision of his life.

"What ships are in the area?"

"We have three Taskforces, and two cruiser squadrons currently engaged within five thousand kilometres." Patel informed.

"Gather them, we're going for the enemy battle line, we don't stop until we break through."

Patel began sending the message, her stomach as light as a feather. "Aye sir."

"All units will attack whatever forces are in the vicinity with renewed vigour, pin them down, don't let them move ships to counter us."

"Relaying orders, local ships are responding."

"You all now the target, this isn't a breakthrough, we need to hit one ship only. Focus forward, ignore everything else." Hamato commanded. "We have a Warmaster to kill."

The Allied fleet began to move, to push more powerfully toward the Dilgar who gave ground before them, as they had always done. However they could not retreat faster than the Humans could advance, and steadily the Allied ships began to close the range.

"Here they come." An'jash reported. "As you predicted Warmaster."

"They have abandoned caution, they're attacking at full speed." Jha'dur observed. "Makes them more vulnerable to incoming fire."

"Mobile forces are engaging, but taking losses."

"Acceptable." Jha'dur nodded. "Dreadnought Pentacans, prepare for full defensive fire."

The scores of heavy warships halted fire for a second, correcting their aim and realigning their guns to focus on the newly developing threat.

"Cut engines." Jha'dur ordered. "Transfer power to weapons and defences, copy that across the fleet, we cant outrun them on retro thrusters. We stand."

The elite of the Grand Fleet came to a relative stop, still technically moving backwards but now with their engines idle and their guns overcharging, preparing to saturate the dark approaching vessels with concentrated fire.

"Large numbers of enemy fighters closing." An'jash read.

"Release the reserve squadrons, keep them from my ships." Ordered the Warmaster. "I want a time on target, maximum impact on the leading elements, ready to fire!"

Across the fleet long gun barrels made their final corrections, laser capicitors charging to full. Before them the allied fleets thundered onwards, their weapons already firing as they stripped away Jha'dur's mobile forces and the light warships that still harassed them.

"All units ready to engage!" the Captain called.

Jha'dur savoured it for one second, all but reaching out and touching the power and precision at her fingertips. "Fire."

The core of the fleet fired, the massed bolters first, streaking across the sky until they were almost to their targets, and then the lasers added themselves to the volley, cutting across the distance in no time to impact simultaneously.

Much of the fire was stopped by interceptors, but enough got through to wreck one Dreadnought and several smaller ships, smashing them into flying infernos.

"Maintain fire." Jha'dur ordered.

"Warmaster, a large concentration of ships is heading this way."

"For this part of the line?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Our strongest part… not too bright Admiral." She frowned. "Maybe he seeks to challenge me to single combat?"

She chuckled slightly, noting the course of the human warships.

"Sorry Admiral, I have other concerns at this time. Destroy them."

The front of the Allied fleet was consumed in bright fire, human and League ships alike falling in flames. Losses to the Dilgar also mounted, mighty ships drifting away as they were cut apart and knocked out of action, ruined by incoming fire, but the balance was in the favour of Jha'dur and Allied losses were mounting much faster.

The Hannibal cruised past one of the fallen cruisers, its guns raised and firing in sequence as it continued into the thick of the fighting, two other Dreadnoughts on its flanks likewise barraging the enemy.

"We lost the Aurora!" Patel called.

"Bring up the Syndicate."

"Sir, that's a Brakiri ship, it doesn't have the firepower of one of ours."

"It's the closest one in line, get it up here!" Hamato demanded. "Increase speed!"

"Engines are at flank Admiral!"

"Then push them harder! We have to get through this firestorm before it kills us all!"

The Hannibal itself took several hits, one of the massive gun turrets falling away in pieces. The damage barely slowed the mighty vessel, and did little to reduce the fury of its guns, an enemy cruiser falling in the same instant.

"Hostiles on all sides! Enemy cruisers closing!"

"Deal with them, but continue to direct best possible fire forward!"

Two Pentacans rushed the formation, losing half their number before they could even plot a firing solution. The remainder delivered close range laser and bolter fire, biting deep into the sides of the Dreadnoughts and ignoring the cruiser escorts. In return the Hyperions dealt with them, coordinating their fire to put a wall of plasma in their path, immolating the light vessels.

Closer to the front several ships were caught by Dilgar Dreadnoughts, falling apart in short order. Vree and Markab squads ran across the frontline firing into the ranks, on one occasion overwhelming a Mishakur with sheer weight of antimatter fire before themselves coming under heavy attack and falling.

The Allies were advancing, but every mile cost them lives and the Dilgar were still in a superior position.

"Admiral, sir the Roosevelt is breaking formation!" Patel shouted over the din. "She's pulling away!"

"How?"

"He's redlined the engines, the power readings are off the scale!"

Beside the Hannibal a sister Dreadnought was accelerating away, the rear of the ship a massive pillar of white light as the engines were pushed well beyond their limits.

"He's deactivated most of his guns, feeding the power to engines." Patel read her sensor reports. "Just forward guns left."

To prove her point the Roosevelt fired its bow batteries, striking one of the Mishakurs and shaving several chunks from it. In return the Roosevelt suffered several direct hits, opening up a number of burning wounds in the hull.

"Three Markab squadrons are taking escort positions, she's outrunning our own frigates!"

"What the hell is Captain Bateman doing?" Hamato grunted.

The Dilgar began to hit the Dreadnought harder, seeing it as a clear threat heading their way. The Roosevelt responded in kind, finishing off a damaged Mishakur as it came closer.

"Admiral, enemy fire is slackening!" Patel reported sharply.

"Bateman's drawing their fire for us." Hamato pointed out solemnly. "That magnificent, crazy bastard is drawing fire from the whole Dilgar elite."

"Do we support him sir?"

Hamato shook his head, making a hard decision. "No, he's selling his life to buy us a window, we won't let his sacrifice be a vain one. Hold course, right down the middle, all batteries maintain fire and clear the way."

Several of the Markab escorts were cut down, throwing themselves in front of the racing Dreadnought to buy it a few extra seconds, time bought at a steep price but used wisely. The engines were melting, the long tubular housings shrinking as their ends were shredded and tattered by the force projecting through them. Her side was burning, the long orange trails of flaming gas mixing with the ferocious burning of the engines as the ship kept fighting, the bow guns claiming another enemy ship as it approached with a roar of silent defiance.

"That ship is heading right for us." Jha'dur noted calmly. "An excellent gesture, pity it isn't Hamato."

"Shall we engage?"

"Send to all Sekhmet's, prepare to attack." Jha'dur nodded. "Move into position and arm weapons."

The Roosevelt screamed onward, slicing through one cruiser and simply ramming a destroyer that failed to get out of its way in time, the massive ship not even slowed by the collision. In front of it the Sekhmets took their place on the front, forming a circular grouping and pointing their bow at the flaming Dreadnought.

"Captain, lock target." Jha'dur spoke, watching in awe as the ship aimed almost exactly for her, the laser cannons bouncing off her shields. "Open fire."

The last five Sekhmets unleashed their weaponry, digging deep into the bow of the Roosevelt. The great warship shuddered, and then burst into flame, the forward third of the ship splitting open in a furious blaze. The engines kept burning, thrusting the ship forward and through the Dilgar formation, passing a few miles from the Vendetta.

"Remarkable." Jha'dur watched the comet flare past and head away from the fight. "If you ever had doubts about the courage of our enemies, let that be your answer."

The bridge crew of the Hannibal watched in silence as the Roosevelt crossed the Dilgar lines, engulfed in flames as it was it was still the first allied ship to cross the enemy formation. It had distracted enough of the local defenders to allow the ships of Hamato's formation to close with less damage than they would otherwise have taken, and now they were ready to make the final dash.

"Allah rest Captain Bateman." Patel said quietly. "And all his crew."

"Look what he did." Hamato gestured. "He drew Jha'dur onto the front line. This is it, this is our chance."

"I have ten Dreadnoughts and fifteen cruisers ready to respond!" Patel said with growing excitement. "We're in range!"

"All ships, full attack!" Hamato ordered. "I want those Sekhmets gone, whatever it takes, this is our only chance! Full ahead, fire until the guns melt! Attack!"

Hamato's group threw themselves into action, most of the ships already damaged and aflame now soaked up even more fire. The Dreadnought groups near Jha'dur laced them with fire, and now the Sekhmets turned towards, bow guns powering up menacingly, the curved animalistic hulls focusing on the charging Earth ships.

"Warmaster, the human flagship is among that group."

"Oh good." Jha'dur smiled widely. "Perhaps Hamato will die at my hand after all."

"There are a lot of ships between us and him."

"Thin them out." She ordered. "All guns, all ships, fire at will."

The Earth ships met the attack full on, the massed laser and particle fire smashing a few ships but not slowing the advance. One of the Sekhmets exploded, its defences breached by six heavy cruisers hitting it constantly, the wreckage blooming in slowmotion.

"Stay with them!" Hamato roared, his composure lost in the heat of the moment, a sign of the vital turning point now upon them. "Don't break off!"

The Vendetta hit the Hannibal directly, powerful cannons cutting deep into the flank of the Dreadnought. In return the flagship answered, bracketing its opposite number with a broadside that largely missed, but still hit it hard enough to force Jha'dur to evade.

Starfuries and Thoruns swept across the battle, small Dilgar vessels raged at the human ships and were pushed aside in flames, two more Mishakurs were lost, their destruction a bitter blow to the Grand Fleet and reducing the weight of fire. Still the Earth fleet advanced, straight into the teeth of the best ships the Dilgar had without flinching.

"Warmaster…" An'jash spoke with a hint of nerves.

"I see them Captain."

"Earth ships are closing fast."

The point was emphasised as a Plasma shot rocked the Vendetta.

"Maximum power to the weapons." Jha'dur ordered. "Hit them with everything we can muster."

The intensity of the beams grew, the twin laser cannons burning deep into a Hyperion cruiser sending flares burning through its smooth forward sections. The ship rocked hard, clearly in no state to keep fighting, yet it pressed on forcing the Sekhmet to hit it three more times until it finally exploded, consuming precious moments that could have been better spent elsewhere.

"We need more power, transfer energy from the jump engines!"

"Warmaster, if we do that we won't be able to jump out if things go wrong!"

"They won't go wrong if we have the firepower to kill these ships!" Jha'dur snapped back. "Do it now!"

An'jash did as ordered, definitely not in favour of the decision, but obeying none the less. The guns fired again, and this time managed to core through a Hyperion in one extended shot, severing its plasma feeds and blasting the ship to pieces.

"More like it." Jha'dur nodded. "Order all Sekhmets to do the same, and then burn this fleet out of the sky."

More Dilgar ships fell, a rare nuclear missile claiming one while more traditional gunfire dealt with the rest. A trio of Artemis frigates picked apart a Mishakur from long range while a Brakir cruiser rammed headlong into a gunship, scraping along each others sides in a welt of heat and light.

"Enemy fire increasing!" Patel warned, the Hannibal shaking constantly as it suffered damage.

"Return fire!" Was Hamato's only response. "I want that witch dead!"

Ships fell one after the other, cruisers, frigates and corvettes, human and League, but they did not hesitate and they did not stop, flying past the wrecks of their brothers and sisters without pause or fear. The Sekhmets showed their power, delivering massive damage but not enough to halt the attack. Three Hyperions fell tot heir might, but five more took their place and brought down the ship beside Jha'dur. Her vessel retaliated, claiming another human warship but it wasn't going to hold them back.

"Suicide ships!" She shouted. "Go!"

She released her final reserve, a small cadre of Delegor frigates that blazed at full speed from behind the lines, taking the allied force head on. Two struck cruisers, disintegrating them, but the rest never made their targets. Some were overwhelmed with fire, the others intercepted by Markab escorts that halted them by crashing into their flanks. The Delegor aimed at the Hannibal was stopped by the Brakiri cruiser Syndicate, its tall fins folding like leaves over the frigate as it exploded prematurely.

"Enemy ships right on top of us!" An'jash screamed. "Multiple weapon locks!"

Jha'dur cursed vehemently. "Break off, evasive action, get us clear right now!"

The Vendetta turned and ran, taking its last sister with it and leaving the last of their kind behind. The Dilgar like rippled, the Sekhmets creating a gap in the wall through which the Allied ships could pour. The Lexington was the first through, finally turning her guns from firing ahead to firing on either side, slashing plasma at barely three miles distance into an enemy Dreadnought. She was joined by additional warships, blasting their way into the Dilgar elite and opening the way for more ships. Gunships and Destroyers responded, green hulled vessels trying to put themselves into action and stop the human break through, but as soon as the first Nova reached the gap it was over, sealed in a storm of laser fire.

"Break formation!" Hamato ordered. "Get stuck in there and take them ship to ship, smash this line once and for all!"

The Taskforces that had followed him now took different paths, cutting into the enemy warships that were still engaging the main Liberation fleet. The Cruisers and Dreadnoughts fell upon them from the flanks, overwhelming the distracted Dilgar ships and cracking the formation. As the new threat emerged some Dreadnought Pentacans turned to engage Hamato's force, which in turn lessened the fire slowing down the main fleet. The rest of the allies pushed their advantage, closing the range and picking apart the Dilgar gunline.

In a matter of seconds the neat formations of Dilgar Dreadnoughts had dissolved into another melee, a massive confused brawl at point blank range between the two parts of the Dilgar fleet and the allies.

"This isn't done yet!" Hamato snapped. "We're still outgunned, we need that flagship!"

"Sir, I have contacts to starboard, Sekhmet class!"

"Time to finish her off, hard about, take the whole taskforce, engage now!"

The two Sekhmets turned through the battle, absorbing a few shots and replying with pulsar and laser fire. They were powerful enough to shoot down anything they couldn't outrun, and fast enough to avoid anything else.

"This is not a defeat." Jha'dur snarled. "Not yet, you all hear me? This isn't over!"

She looked back at the tactical display. "No, I still have you outgunned Hamato, all I need is some concentration of power…there, Dreadnought Pentacans six and seven."

"They are currently engaging a Brakiri taskforce."

"Waste of potential, I need them here to take on Earth Force. Get them out of the line and form up here, on me!"

The powerful Dilgar ships fired a few parting shots, then obeyed their Warmaster, breaking away and heading to join her.

"Deploy facing in our direction." She ordered. "Standby for close range saturation fire, right into the face of Hamato's little Taskforce."

The Hannibal shook as it fed power to its engines, tearing through the melee without pause or second thought, cutting down enemy ships on all sides. Her escorts kept pace, cruisers and light ships firing wildly as they made for the last two Sekhmets.

Around them the battle was chaos, warships fired into one another, claimed victories only to be shot down themselves seconds later. The Novas dominated space around them, mobile fortresses laying down a point blank slaughter in every direction and giving cover to their Taskforces which focused on sweeping clear an area of space. The Dilgar didn't give them a moments peace, their attacks still coordinated by Jha'dur, assigning the best Pentacans to the most necessary job, not letting them get bogged down in a slugging match with the gun heavy Earth warships.

"Admiral, enemies ahead!" Patel warned. "Dreadnoughts!"

"How many Novas nearby?"

"Nine sir."

"Get them over here, right now, emergency speed!"

Several nearby battleships answered the call, leaving black hulks in their wake as the closed on the flagship, facing themselves off against the assembling Dilgar ships. It was a race, with both sides setting up a gun line as quickly as possible with the first to fire likely to win.

"Enemy forming up!"

"Cut engines, open up the A-Arcs!" Hamato ordered. "Form a firing line right here, right here!"

The massive warship spun in space, still hurtling along as it broadsided the enemy fleet, its far guns swinging inboard to track over the hull. A few more Novas followed suit, aligning for a devastating strike while Jha'durs forces only just gathered.

"How many?" Hamato demanded.

"Four ships!" Patel gave the count. "Five!"

"It'll do, open fire!"

The Earth Battleships engaged, a heavy volley of massed laser fire. Many of the Dreadnoughts had lost turrets in the action, but their massed guns were still deadlier than twice their number of enemy battleships. The Mishakur force took the full brunt of the attacker, pushed aside in clouds of gas and igniting flame. Shrapnel burst out in all directions as they died, taking the penultimate Sekhmet with it.

The Vendetta was thrown hard back hard, causing most of the bridge crew to lose their footing, but not Jha'dur.

"Get us clear!"

The cruiser turned away, taking several hits from the human ships as it did so but was largely obscured by the fiery deaths of its escorts and avoided the worst of the retribution. The damage however was still significant.

"Damn that man!" Jha'dur spat venom. "Get me some more ships!"

An'jash didn't take her eyes from her console as she spoke. "Warmaster, we have damage to the main reactor, shields are down and the grid is fluctuating!"

"Fix them then!" She snapped. "Move us away from the fighting until we repair."

"Yes Warmaster, turning now." Her aide reported. "Wait, there's something in our way, two human cruisers, they're on an intercept course!"

"Can we outrun them?"

"Not with damage to the power grid."

"So we go through them." She smiled thinly. "We can handle two cruisers. Power up the bow guns and engage."

The Vendetta turned toward its target, crossing over the flaming ruins of a Tratharti and arming its guns. The hull was torn and blackened in many places but she was still one of the most lethal weapons in known space. Ahead of her the two grey warships followed suit, aligning their guns and preparing to fire. They too were damaged and holed, but were not about to give way.

"Enemy cruiser preparing to engage." Commander Sterns reported.

"That's her, I know it is." Thornhill said, determination filling her voice.

"Hull markings match the Dilgar flagship." Sterns confirmed. "It's Jha'dur."

"Where's the Hannibal?"

"Still engaged, there aren't any Dreadnoughts nearby, we're on our own."

Thornhill grimaced, taking on a Sekhmet without at least a Battlecruiser in support was acknowledged as suicidal, especially with the current state of her surviving forces. There wasn't much chance of walking away from this fight, so she made her decision accordingly.

"That ship doesn't get past us, if we have to ram it then we are going to stick this warship right down her neck, clear?"

"Yes sir." Sterns affirmed. "We have a firing solution."

"All batteries, open fire!"

The two cruisers, the Lexington and Brooklyn, opened fire with their plasma cannons, reams of blue energy strafing the Sekhmet. In return the warship fired its interceptors, transplanted from EA wrecks and just as effective against their former owners.

The hull rang as a plasma shot got through, the armour absorbing the hit.

"We can't overpower the weapons Warmaster."

"So hit them with a regular shot." Jha'dur waved her hand. "It will take time for Hamato to pursue, time enough to send these two to hell."

The bow lasers streaked forward, cutting two deep gashes into the prow of the Lexington and roughly buffeting the warship.

"Heavy damage to Alpha sector!" Sterns called out. "Major hull breaches!"

"Keep firing!" Thornhill roared.

The ship bucked hard again.

"We just lost main sensors!"

"Keep firing!"

The two ships directed a torrent of plasma at the Vendetta, closing the range and sneaking more rounds through the interceptor screen. The yellow and black ship took damage, but its superior armour kept it operational and its bow guns were starting to cause internal damage to the cruisers.

"Focus on that one." Jha'dur pointed. "This 'Brooklyn' looks the worse for wear, finish it first."

"Yes Warmaster, shifting targets." An'jash heard a beep. "New contact, one of ours, the Destroyer Unrepentant offers its assistance."

"Gladly accepted, have it target the Brooklyn too."

The older model green ship fell into position beside the Vendetta and aimed its guns, the Sekhmet already piercing deep into the armour of the beleaguered cruiser, removing the main bow cannons in a storm of fire and flying metal.

"I need another Dreadnought Pentacan, we'll reform and then…"

Jha'dur was cut off by the destruction of the Destroyer Unrepentant, the small ships bucking upwards and bending in two with a crack of metal and flame. It was not hit by weapons fire, but rather impaled by a long spike of jagged grey metal that pierced the body of the ship and pushed it along in streams of flame and gas.

"Enemy Dreadnought!" An'jash screeched in disbelief. "It came out of nowhere!"

"No, it just used the wreckage as cover." Jha'dur said. "We can't stop it, not at this range, prepare to make an emergency jump."

"We can't! The engines haven't recharged!"

"Ah." Jha'dur remembered. "There's a problem."

The viciously damaged hull of the Dreadnought rose past the Vendetta, casting a black shadow over it. The ship was gnarled and blackened, the Dilgar destroyer tearing itself apart with secondary explosions wedged on the prow as the flanking guns turned to target the Dilgar flagship barely ten miles distant.

"What do we do!" An'jash yelled. "Warmaster?"

Jha'dur was fresh out of options, the sudden appearance of the ship ending her grand plans in one decisive moment. She couldn't run, didn't have time to evade, and didn't have the strength to resist the broadside of even a crippled Nova.

"Make your peace with the gods Captain." She said. "We'll be meeting them shortly."

"Warmaster!" An'jash repeated in shock as Jha'dur looked at the image of the Dreadnought, finding herself smiling at this avatar of doom.

She didn't feel fear, oddly it was not something she had experienced on either occasion she had faced certain death. It had taken a while to understand why, but she had decided that truthfully she would be as glad to see the back of her life as her enemies would be.

"Nemesis." She chuckled at the writing on the ship's nameplate, barely visible and wreathed in flame. "It had to be a ship called Nemesis."

"We've got that bitch cold." Tennant grinned a bloody smile. His ship had been battered, nuked, raked by laser fire and rammed twice, yet somehow his damage control team had brought her back online and put her back in the fight. She had seen the Lexington and moved to join her, not realising until the last moment in how much danger the cruiser was in. With no bow guns he had ordered the helm to deal with the smaller Dilgar ship in a more direct manner, while the flank guns would hit the Sekhmet as they passed.

"Ten guns locked on target!" Anderson hollered. "Ready to fire!"

"Now who's Queen Bitch of the Galaxy?" Tennant asked. "Open fire!"

The Nemesis engaged her last guns, biting deep into the hull of the Vendetta. The laser cannons parted the thick armour, parting the hull plates and causing flashes of heat and explosions in he heart of the ship. Slowly the hull peeled back, melted or blasted away by the intense fire, her interceptors failing and the powerful bow lasers going dead. As soon as that happened the Lexington and Brooklyn began scoring direct hits, thick bolts of plasam crumpling and shattering the forward hull, throwing jagged pieces of ship in all directions and pushing the Vendetta off course by weight of fire.

The Dilgar Flagship had extra armour and bette rprotection, but against the level of firepower directed against it that point was moot. The warship shuddered violently, bends and bumps forming in the hull where systems exploded internally until finally in a massive shower of fire the vessel broke in half, the two truncated pieces falling away in a mass of glowing metal and escaping gas.

"And that is what you get when you piss off Lady Nemesis!" Tennant shouted at the wreck. "Oh yeah, this crap feels good!"

"We nailed her, enemy flagship is toast!" Anderson cheered. "We killed Deathwalker!"

"Lady Nemesis killed Deathwalker." Tennant corrected. "We came along for the ride, found some good seats for the show. Pity I forgot the popcorn."

"Sending message to fleet command."

"I knew we could rely on our girl to do it. She doesn't like pretenders to the throne, no one gets the title of Queen Bitch while she's still breathing." He gave the armrests of his char a good pat. "Well done girl, you chewed her up, spat her out and danced on her grave, but in a very Ladylike manner."

"What do we do now sir?"

"Well first get that destroyer off the face of my ship, it ruins her looks." Tennant commanded. "Then I feel like celebrating, what to do… I know, lets blow something up!"

"I have several Dilgar ships to port, but we're in pretty poor shape."

"This is the Lady Nemesis Simon, she doesn't do bad shape." Tennant scoffed.

"We've got a quarter of our firepower left and virtually no armour!"

"She likes to give he scumbag enemies an even chance!" Tennant counted. "Very sporting of her, lulling them into a false sense of security like that."

"But sir…"

"It worked against the smartest soldier in the galaxy didn't it."

Anderson frowned. "Good point sir."

"Link up with Lady Lex and the Brookers, I can see the enemy fleet is already losing cohesion, lets go make it worse."

The battered ship joined up with the two wounded cruisers, heading back into the action. Behind it the front half of the Sekhmet drifted away, past the fighting and into the shadow of the nearby moon alone, cold and empty.

But the wrecked ship was not quite empty, and nor was it quite alone either.

Balos

Dilgar Fortress.

Garibaldi slid on some lose gravel, cursing the momentary loss of balance without realising that it probably saved his life. As they ran through the workings of a power substation a storm of gunfire met them, splashing the ground around the two Platoons and coming lethally close to Garibaldi.

"Cover!" Lieutenant Emerson shouted urgently. "Enemy right! Get down!"

One of the soldiers fell back in the storm of gunfire while the rest took what cover they could, sheltering behind low walls, piping and electrically charged machinery.

"They're in that building, front right." Fox clarified, particle shots whizzing past and kicking up dust.

Was a thump as something exploded, then a showering of gravel and hot metal raining on their position like falling hail.

"They've got a grenade launcher." Garibaldi snarled.

"We need to do something about it." Tucker said beside him. "It'll massacre us if we just run for it."

Several more explosions followed as the Dilgar weapon tried to catch their range, accompanied by a steady saturation of gunfire keeping the troops from doing anything other than a few stray shots in response.

"Lieutenant!" Garibaldi called. "We need to get that weapon!"

"I hear you Crowbar, got a plan?"

"Yes Ma'am, I just need some smoke and cover fire."

"You got it!"

Garibaldi nodded. "Tucker, Bugs, Dom. Say yes."

"What Sarge?"

"Just say yes."

They shrugged and did as they were told.

"Great, you just volunteered to come with me." Garibaldi grinned. "That was so brave and selfless."

"We walked right into that one." Bugs cursed. "We're dumb."

"We're going to be in that building in about five seconds." The Sergeant pointed to a block adjacent to the one currently occupied by enemy soldiers.

"So what's the plan?" Dom asked aver the gunfire.

"Plan?" Garibaldi frowned. "I'll tell you later, if we live this all went to plan."

"So you don't have a plan?" Bugs asked.

"Plan is such a definitive word." Garibaldi dismissed. "More of a thought, a theory, a really good feeling."

"We're going to die." Tucker said flatly.

"Well you volunteered." The Sergeant winked. "Get set."

The Lieutenant located a smoke grenade and prepared it. "It's going to the right Sergeant!" She announced.

"We're ready!" He called back. "Guys, run like hell. I mean it."

She lobbed the grenade, puffing into black smoke that obscured both visual and most thermal and motion scanners to.

"Red Platoon, cover fire!"

She rolled over and began shooting at the windows, joined by the rest of the unit. It wasn't accurate and didn't have much aiming involved, but it did keep the Dilgar down for a few moments.

"Go!" Garibaldi roared, already up and running, the first to dash into the open. The other three followed, barrelling through the smoke. Enemy fire returned, the white smoke trail of a rocket grenade swooshing past to explode in the distance as the smoke covered them.

He reached the door, putting his shoulder to it at the sprint and splintering the cheap wooden portal, throwing himself to the floor and checking the grey and empty room.

"Clear!" Tucker shouted, sweeping his rifle left while Bugs checked right.

"Now what?" Dom asked.

"Now we go find a way into the other building." Garibaldi said. "Fast."

The Dilgar Base was beginning to burn, demolition charges set at key locations by the other EA units were detonated as the bulk of the 99th and the 509th retreated, gunning down anyone trying to follow them. Fuel stores went up in searing pillars of fire, the roar of the burning air like thunder. Even from half a mile away the heat was tangible, like sitting too close to an open hearth on a winters day.

All this information, the destruction, the distant gunfire, the smoke and ash filling the sky, it was all noted, dismissed, and filed away as unimportant by Jenny Sakai's mind. It gave her now advantage in her task and so was irrelevant, all that mattered was staying alive and winning. And satisfying her need for revenge.

The Spectre was pushing her hard, not giving her a break or time to think beyond parrying, retaliating and using the ground to prevent herself from being overrun. This alien, this murderer was a lot larger and stronger than she was, and even though he had been hiding in the caves for weeks waiting for the right moment to strike he had not lost any of his ferocity.

Arn'dal knew this was his last chance, that the codebreaker his Warmaster desired was within his grasp, but soon would not be. He had one obstacle to overcome, this human female who moved with the swiftness and precision of a born fighter, a specimen at the height of her abilities. He could appreciate that, respect a kindred warrior, he had met few enough who really had thrown themselves into the life of a Spectre like he had. This human was one of the few, and killing her would be a great pleasure. Unfortunately the timing was not ideal, and rather than savour the moment he needed to end the fight as fast as possible.

He swung his poisoned blade at the human, knowing it wasn't going to connect but not caring, it was just a distraction. As she moved he followed up with a stronger swipe from the steel bar he had found, a powerful blow that would have stunned a Drazi. She dodged that two, twisting in mid spin in a manner that must have stretched her physically and flexed her muscles painfully. She turned the dodge into an attack, swinging back around and using the momentum to drive a fist into Arn'dal's chest, then slice one of her long knives across his chest.

She drew blood, a slight pouring and line of pain that simply amused the Spectre, reminding him that he was dealing with a professional. He embraced the stinging pain and advanced, Jenny giving way and stepping out through the tunnel exit into the open world beyond. Ruined and burning buildings stood around her, a sign that one of the other human units had passed through here and smashed everything they found.

Arn'dal continued his attack without respite, drawing on his reserves of strength and will power to exhaust the human, forcing her to use up her own energy evading his attacks. He blocked her own counters, having to trust his instincts and training as the female exhibited her skills.

Arn'dal ignored the crackling flames, swinging his arm through a small inferno to attack Jenny from an unexpected side, dealing with the pain as he caught her with the steel bar. She buckled, gasped, but still had the presence to side step enough to avoid the far more lethal poisoned knife that came within an inch of her neck. She kept her balance, used both knives to block a follow up attack, then responded with a sharp kick between the Spectres legs.

Fortunately his field kit included protection for that part of his anatomy, but he still had to step back to keep his balance. Inside he was always conscious of time and distance, each step taking him away from the codebreaker. He knew this female was deliberately drawing him away, but it did not matter. The nearest human soldiers were pinned down, the codebreaker would be alone for several more minutes, he still had time to bring Jha'dur her prize and cement his reputation. He knew his Warmaster had little tolerance for the current regime and its failures, and he knew she would require proven officers to take positions of power in a new government. He secretly had his eye on commanding an Army Group, and expected this success would guarantee him such a place of power.

He realised he was grinning, and he didn't care.

Jenny saw the smirk too, and she simply let it rest on her thoughts. She was running on cold fury, and this Dilgar's insufferable smile merely gave her more desire to cut it from his head. She didn't have a gameplan, she wasn't keeping score or planning when and where she would kill this person. She was in the moment, with neither the past or future meaning anything. Every single instant was as clear as if she were a deity looking down from upon high. Every sound, movement and twinge was as real and hard edged as life could make it. She was not overwhelmed by the information, she accepted it, lived in it and used it.

Her wrist ached from the clang of the blades, but it didn't matter. She moved with exceptional speed, but the Spectre had earned his place well and matched her, defending and countering like someone who had done it all his life. He didn't give her time to set up a plan, just to try and cut him down.

She needed a few seconds, just a few, to draw her hand gun and end this finally. She didn't want glory, this was not a test, an honourable meeting to determine who was superior. She did not want to gain anything from this, there was nothing left that mattered to her, victory would not fix things and make the world better. She was lost, she had been deprived of the one thing that really truly mattered to her, and this being stood before her was solely responsible.

He was going to pay for it. Revenge was a destructive emotion, one that killed the soul of the offended party as much as the offender himself, but like so much else she didn't care anymore. She wanted him dead, and whatever came after she would accept without complaint provided that retribution was served.

The buildings burned around them, ships duelled high above and soldiers fought beside them. It was all just back ground, the stakes of a free or a dominated galaxy were nothing compared to her need for revenge, and for his desire for power and prestige.

The room was clear, leaving the third floor as uninhabited as the previous two.

"We're alone in here." Garibaldi said. "Okay, now we need to get something done."

"Like what? Taking out that grenade launcher?" Dom asked.

"Bingo." The Sergeant confirmed. "It's only a couple of yards to the enemy building, pick a window and get ready."

Quietly and carefully the four men sneaked to a set of windows on the side of the building closest to the enemy, the Dilgar gunfire still suppressing the two Platoons around the substation.

"We don't have to kill them all, just nail that launcher." Garibaldi said. "Ready?"

"Pretty much." Dom said, the others just nodded.

"Okay, spray and pray, go!"

The four soldiers stood up and fired, the first rounds smashing through the windows and spraying into the building opposite, cutting across the open plan floor and striking the enemy soldiers beside them from the side. Several fell but the others responded at once, shooting back and forcing the humans into cover.

"Crap!" Garibaldi ducked behind the wall, his colleagues doing the same. "More of them than I expected."

Blue particle fire saturated the room, bouncing off the walls and rushing through the building, forcing them all into cover.

"Was this part of the plan?" Bugs demanded.

"Now what?" Yelled Tucker.

"I'm working on it!"

He leaned his head round, catching a glimpse of what the Dilgar were doing.

"Uh oh."

There was a tremendous bang and belch of smoke as a rocket grenade passed through the window and exploded several yards inside the building in a puff of brown concrete dust, the blast wave hitting them like a prize fighter.

"Ow." Bugs brushed pieces of building off his jacket.

"Okay, new plan." Garibaldi said. "Run!"

The four of them bolted, using the dust as cover while the grenade launcher smashed into the outside wall where they had been stood, blasting a massive chunk from the wall and floor. The rain under a rain of razor sharp shards to the stairwell.

"This sucks." Tucker observed. "Now what?"

"Now we go up." Garibaldi decided. "Onto the roof."

"This is Madness." Bugs sighed. "Do we actually have any idea what's going on."

"Just pretend we do, looks good on our medal commendations." Garibaldi grinned at them. "Better than doing something stupid which works through blind luck, which is the truth. Come on."

They ran up the stairs, legs pumping as a few shots fed through the dust with no real accuracy. He shot off the lock at the top and pushed through the door onto the roof, glad to see no Dilgar on the roof of the building opposite them. He looked over the edge, seeing the Dilgar were still pinning his platoon but not having a decent angle to engage himself.

"Nice view." Bugs nodded. "Now what?"

Suddenly the building rattled, a long rumbling shake like an earthquake that shook loose dust and rattled the surviving windows. Not far away to great hisses of steam rose high into the air, drawing the small groups attention.

"Oh great, just what we need."

The thick armoured doors protecting the planetary defence gun began sliding open, slowly revealing the immense weapon beneath. It was a long process, but it put a clear time limit on their situation.

"We need to nuke that gun, who's got the detonator?"

"Captain Firestorm." Garibaldi said. "With White Platoon, he's probably bugging out right now."

"Why doesn't he fire it?"

"Because that gun has a lot of stored power, when it goes it'll incinerate half this base." The Sergeant informed. "Including us. We need to do this fast, he'll give us as much time as he can but you can bet he'll drop the hammer to stop it engaging our ships in orbit, wherever we are."

"So we need to stop the grenade launcher." Dom frowned, looking at the other building. "You're going to make us jump aren't you?"

"They'll never see it coming."

"You know what I see coming?" Bugs stated. "The ground. Fast."

"Its easy, we can make it, just take a run up." Garibaldi was already pacing back. "A decent run up."

"This is a bad plan, for the record, bad plan." Tucker joined him.

"It's going to work fine. Stay positive, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Err, the ground?"

"So it's incentive to jump well. Lets do it, all at once."

"I should have joined the navy." Dom sighed.

"Now's your chance to fly." Garibaldi chuckled. "With me!"

They ran for the edge of the roof, not holding back and sprinting as fast as they could, praying they didn't slip or lose their balance. At the last moment they leapt, launching themselves over the gap between buildings in a flail of limbs before coming down on the other side, bending their knees and rolling to take the landing as a good airborne soldier was trained to do. Except Garibaldi, who landed perfectly and jogged to a standing halt.

"I knew we could do it!" he turned to his three heaped friends. "Told you I had a good feeling about this!"

His companions groaned as they picked themselves up.

"Roof access is here, I need three grenades." The Sergeant was moving. "Come on, keep up, unless you want to be fried by Old Firestorm!"

The rest of the group joined up, gathering by the door.

"Alright, I'll shoot the door, you guys lob those grenades, we go in after and mop up. Questions?"

"We're going to regret this aren't we?" Tucker commented.

"It makes us heroes." Garibaldi countered. "Might even get a girl for Dom. Pull those pins."

He levelled the PPG and shot away the lock in a flash of boiling metal, then booted the door open. It had barely swung on its hinges when the grenades clinked down the steps, rolling onto the floor below to a few panicked shouts. The trio of explosions ended that, kicking up smoke and dust again.

"Move!" Garibaldi yelled, taking the stairs three at a time and firing as he went. The scene was one of confused chaos, something the four men exploited ruthlessly, firing on anything that moved and meeting no resistance.

"Clear this side!" He called.

"Clear here!" Voices answered.

"Alright, lets get gone." Garibaldi said in finality. "Quick and clean, watch for stragglers."

They bounced down the stairs without incident and pulled open the main door.

"Hold your fire!" he shouted out.

"Crowbar?" Lieutenant Fox shouted. "Was that you jumping from roof to roof like sodding Batman?"

"Long story." He stepped out. "Building secured, but we better go."

"I had a message from Firestorm, we've got five minutes."

"Better use them then Ma'am." He nodded. "Red Platoon, break time over, back on your feet!"

"We are near." Tisket reported. "Not far."

More explosions filled the air, demolition charges doing their job and levelling vast swathes of the base.

"Let's move!" Fox ordered. "Last dash people, get it on!"

Jenny lifted the rubble on her foot, popping it into the air with her left foot and then kicking it from mid air with her right. It caught Arn'dal clean in the stomach with out much affect, the Spectre slashing two, then three slices with his knife, none of them finding a target. It was a repeat of the fight so far, Jenny didn't have the strength to make Arn'dal falter, and the Spectre wasn't fast enough to catch the human agent. The deciding factor was going to be whoever tired out first, who slipped up and made a mistake from exhaustion.

She lunged at his neck, white teeth snarling through the face paint, the Spectre knocked her arm aside and lunged him self, short and controlled jabs and cuts that Jenny dodged, leaning or stepping away and following with mechanically timed attacks of her own.

Both were beyond their limits, driven by a greater desire than merely winning. Arn'dal had to win or he could never go home, the price of returning in failure to his Warmaster would be worse than mere death. For Jenny it was even more personal, the last thing she had in the world to do. She couldn't imagine what would come next, her last few weeks had been defined by this need for revenge, she would have it, or she would die, that was all that existed in her world.

It couldn't go on forever, and it didn't. Arn'dal over reached, misjudging minutely how much force to put behind a lunge. His knife jabbed out, slicing past Jenny's head, her wild hair flying as she spun away and raised her knife in a powerful upper cut, slicing deep into Arn'dal's wrist. His hand released as the tendons were cut, involuntarily dropping the poisoned knife. The move took him by surprise and Jenny built on it, spinning around and driving her elbow into his stomach with a sharp yell, pushing him back.

Arn'dal stumbled, his balance lost on the unsure footing, the banshee of a human striking him again and again, kicking and punching him. He managed to block the most lethal attacks, stopping the knives but little else. She had him and he knew it, he tried to fight back but Jenny was in a fury, moving faster and with more strength than she had before, putting her final passion into the attack.

She sliced a deep line across his chest, twirled on the spot and with as much force as she could snapped her leg up, the long limb catching the Spectre under his chin and finally launching him off his feet, dropping him to the dusty ground.

She stood there, panting, blood dripping slowly from the engraved knives in her hands while Arn'dal tried to push himself up, also breathing heavily. He tried to step up, but a firm kick to the side of the head ended that idea.

"All done." Jenny whispered, tightening her grip on the knives, the Balosian blades she had been gifted by her new kin. It was appropriate that they should spill the blood of this monster, after all his kind had done to the Balosians, to her, it was poetic.

"I don't know if you can understand me, I don't care." She stepped around. "You're not the first Spectre I've killed, but that was business, it was survival. This is personal."

She looked down on him, the Dilgar not giving her the satisfaction of showing fear. She felt no pity, nor joy, just a cold need to finish this and in so doing perhaps put to rest some of the pain she felt.

"Time to die."

Arn'dal waited, waited until she reversed the blade, waited until she dropped like a thunderbolt, the steel weapon aimed at his heart. He waited for the exact second to act, the precise instant, and then he moved. He was not about to simply give up, losing wasn't something he ever considered, just how to turn a situation to his advantage. It was the most valuable lesson Jha''ur had given him.

He caught her arm, taking the force of the down stroke and the entire weight of the human at the same time. The pain to his wounded arm was excrutiating, but he did not blanch or pass out, he held her there, the blade touching his chest as she dug her feet into the ground and pushed with all she had to push it that last inch or two.

They were nose to nose, breathing in each others breath. Beads of sweat from her brow fell onto him, but he didn't flinch, pushing back and slowly lifting the human woman back. With a roar he gave it a final massive effort and threw her back, twisting her hand as she went so she dropped one of the knives.

She rolled away, using the speed and momentum to flip herself upright and back on her feet as Arn'dal rose up, grabbed the Balosian knife and attacked her. Both were enraged, fighting with lightning speed, dodging, stepping and attacking like a well practised dance. Each attack was like a steel tipped flash of light, the slender human twisting and moving with such elegance as to be a thing of nature, the Dilgar moving with the power and strength of a freight train.

Neither had time to think, just to react. Both were pinnacles of their craft, the best their respective worlds had to offer. Wildly different yet very similar. Their battle was one replayed a million times a million ways, from the infantry and fighters to warships and generals, human against Dilgar, a fight of equals to the death.

Arn'dal sliced through the air, jenny not moving fast enough. He opened a deep gash in her leg, causing her to whelp a little in pain. The strike however overextended him again, and with her wounded leg she stamped down on his hand holding the knife, finding time to be glad he had wounded her with her own knife and not his poisoned blade.

He dropped the knife again as she crunched his hand into the ground and backhanded him, driving him back from the weapon laying in the dust. This time she gave him no pause, no time to recover, with a snarl she stepped forward against the unarmed man and brought the thick blade around in a decapitating strike.

A strike Arn'dal caught with both hands, grunting at the effort. He kept one hand on Jenny's knife arm, punched her hard in the back, then used his leverage to twirl her around with immense strength, more than she could counter, and bend her knife back the way it came. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her towards him, pressing her against his chest as he bent the knife around, forcing her onto the blade with a last embrace.

She knew what had happened, she felt the knife pass through her abdomen with her small frame offering friction and resistance, none of it stopping the powerful arm of the Dilgar Spectre dragging her in. She had been too tired to twist away, and it was so fast she had barely registered the danger. She had her chance, and she hadn't taken it. Now the Spectre had turned the tables, and here she was impaled by her own blade.

Somewhere inside she recalled the Spectre at the EIA building had died the same way, she had used his own knife to kill him when he grew too confident, it was bitterly ironic that this man, the commander of the one she had killed then now ended her days in the same way.

She stood there, chest to chest with the Dilgar, neither of them moving. She was looking straight at him, and he at her. There was a growing look of amazement on his face, like he hadn't expected to actually win this fight, and that he was only just realizing he had succeeded. He was still holding her tight, a mockery of a lovers embrace, and she didn't have the strength or will to break away.

She did not fear death anymore, life held nothing for her, but she didn't want to go, not like this, not while she still had her one last mission to fulfil, one last score to settle. That was what ripped her up more than any knife. She had failed in her final assignment to avenge her soulmate.

Arn'dal broke into a real smile. He had done it, he had beaten this flighty female and he still had time to catch the codebreaker and escape. He was confident the fleet in orbit would also win, after all Jha'dur was in command, but if not he had plenty of plans, plenty of contingencies, and plenty of training.

All of which completely vacated his head as he heard a slight mechanical click.

He hadn't noticed the human female's hand move away from the knife now embedded in her, she had been staring right into his eyes, not giving any indication that she didn't consider the contest finished. If he had remembered his other lessons from Jha'dur he would have known that as far as most humans were concerned it wasn't over until the last breath was exhaled.

He felt the cold metal tube under his chin pushing his head up, knew what it was, knew he couldn't get away. He had won, he had beaten her, this was not what was supposed to happen! He was supposed to savour his victory, to reap the rewards. The human had denied him that, and he felt more than just rage, he felt the same loss of future as his countless victims had. It that moment he was no longer a hunter, he was the prey.

Jenny Sakai smiled a weak smile, but full to bursting with a sureness of victory as she pushed Paul's .44 Magnum up under Arn'dal's chin and pulled the trigger.

"Syonara."

The Penultimate thing to go through Arn'dal's mind was that image of Paul, and the consideration that if he had lived, perhaps he would not have so enraged this woman that she would kill him with her last breath. The actual last thing to go through his mind was the .44 bullet, which passed right through and took most of the contents with it.

The Spectre fell one way, and as his grip died so Jenny fell the other, both hitting the ground at the same time. As Arn'dal fell his hand was still gripped on the Balosian blade, pulling it free from Jenny as he fell like a tree cut at the base. She didn't mind, most of her body was numb as she landed staring up at the sky, still beaming widely.

She looked up at the sky, disappointed that it was daylight and she couldn't see any stars. Smoke blew overhead, masking the sunlight in a haze before clearing. She could feel explosions vibrating in the ground and the rumble of the orbital cannon rising from its underground tomb. She didn't have any more worries, no more concerns, nothing keeping her in this world of sadness and pain.

She laughed, the sound of someone completely free and ready to move on to whatever came next, if anything. Oblivion wasn't a problem for her, she was already in a living nightmare, this was her release.

"I'll be seeing you soon Paul." She grinned, completely happy. "Not long to wait."

She lay there, letting herself slip away, sounds and light fading as she let go. She had a dimming view of the world, her senses blurring slowly as things grew distance. But one thing she did notice and consider strange, was that she seemed to be moving.

She forced herself to focus, to try and get a final image of the world around her, and sure enough it was moving, bouncing up and down for no good reason. She had no idea why, shrugged it off and closed her eyes again.

"Don't you dare!" A voice growled at her. "Stay alive, open your eyes!"

Groggily she did as told, opening her eyes and frowning, not happy to still be tied to this world.

"Open them!" The male voice demanded, clearly very close to her.

She blinked her vision and saw she was leaning against someones shoulder, a pale rough material.

"Come on!" The voice said, and she imagined she knew who it was.

"Don't give up!" The voice repeated. "You're going to live!"

She had to admit she wasn't overjoyed at the prospect.

Garibaldi had decided he was a mad man.

Red Platoon had fought a running battle through the complex to the tunnel, blue Platoon alongside them dragging half a dozen wounded. They had made it by the skin of their teeth, the massive Dilgar cannon rising up from the ground like a metallic tower, aiming at the warships fighting overhead getting closer tot he planet.

They had slid into the tunnel, merely a minute before the gun was due to fire, Dilgar soldiers tailing them and forcing them to take cover. Garibaldi had looked back over his shoulder, and there he had seen her.

Jenny was laying not far from the tunnel, clearly badly injured. Garibaldi couldn't leave her there, dead or alive he couldn't leave her out like that, so in a simple decision he turned around and sprinted for her.

"Crowbar!" Bugs yelled. "Crowbar!"

"Cover me!" He called out as he ran, Dilgar fire peppering all around him.

"Stupid son of a…" Tucker bit off. "First squad, covering fire!"

Bugs and Dom bolted after their Sergeant, keeping their heads low as they made it to the battlescene, red and blue fire sizzling the air.

"We so don't have time." Bugs snapped. "Make it fast!"

"Hey Jenny?" Garibaldi asked, getting no response, the serious wound in her body looking like it was fatal.

"She's gone." Dom said. "Let's just go!"

"Yeah." He slung his rifle. "With her."

"She's dead!" Dom said. "leave her!"

"Shut the hell up and cover me!" Garibaldi snapped viciously as he scooped up the woman. "We don't leave people behind!"

He started to run, feeling her coming around as he moved.

"Don't give up! You're going to live!"

He dodged sideways as particle bolts came dangerously close, the tunnel visible ahead with his platoon in and around it firing, Dom and Bugs a few yards ahead.

"Come on!" Fox was yelling. "Come on, it's going to go up any second!"

The gun reached maximum elevation, its final stages charging up, Franklin couldn't wait much longer to fire the demolition charges and end it as a threat.

"Come on!"

He felt a terrible pain in his leg, and he dropped to his knees, the back of his uniform smoking and filling his nose with the acrid aroma of burning flesh. By a miracle he didn't drop the wounded friend in his arms.

"Crowbar!" Bugs skidded to a halt and turned back to help his friend.

"Keep running!" Garibaldi shouted. "That's an order!"

More bolts flew past as he forced himself back up, his right leg in utter agony. He fought through the pain and worked his legs, gathering pace. He had to reach the tunnel, had to get to safety, had to bring his friend home.

With a massive superhuman effort he sprinted the last dozen yards, gunfire all around as he made it to the tunnel, roaring in pain and defiance al the way.

The second he made the tunnel the cannon exploded, its bearings severed by the demolition charges. It fell in flames back into the pit had emerged from before the stored energy was released, a wave of flame that spread out over the surface through the base.

It passed over the tunnel entrance, sucking a torrent of air for a few seconds before it subsided leaving them in quiet.

"I need a medic here!" Bugs called out. "Fast!"

"Her first!" Garibaldi said, his wounded leg so painful he could feel his consciousness slipping. "Her first!"

"Okay Freddy, you got it, just relax."

Garibaldi dropped his head back, resting it on the floor.

"This had better have been worth it."

Far above the Dreadnought Hannibal completed its turn, its stern swinging out as the bow guns cut through a Dilgar cruiser. The enemy ships were in disarray, their pentacans split by the human task forces which forced them to engage one on one, a battle no Dilgar ship could realistically win against the well armed and well trained human ships.

"Redirect fire, broadside to starboard." Hamato ordered. "Four second burst, fire!"

The Dreadnought raked a passing formation of Dilgar Destroyers, burning three of them out of the sky. Her escorts finished the rest.

"Got them!" Patel reported. "Enemy destroyed!"

"Find me a new target."

She quickly ran over the sensors. "Sir… there aren't any."

"Put up the main display."

They had been fighting so hard for so long he hadn't measured the enemies strength lately, too busy keeping his own forces in line and capable. Now he stepped back and took in an overview, looking across the whole of the Balosian system.

"No enemy ships close by." Patel said in shocked euphoria. "I'm reading less than thirty Dilgar ships remaining, all heavily engaged."

Hamato watched as a Quartet of Dreadnoughts cut down a surrounded Pentacan. With no central command the Dilgar ships had fought wherever they were, not pulling back from skirmishes they couldn't win or massing to exploit an area of weakness. Hamato had dictated the battle, and even when outnumbered he had carried the day, but at great cost in lives and ships.

The final Dilgar ships died as so many others had, in a last note of defiance they rounded on the fast Markab ships hunting them and rammed them, smashing nose to nose with the allied ships in a last flaming brand of destruction. And then nothing.

"They're gone sir, the Dilgar Grand Fleet, Jha'dur, all gone." Patel reported.

"Signal General Dayan, tell him to jump in assault ships and begin landing reinforcements on Balos." Hamato said, his force hoarse from barking orders for hours straight. "Then signal EarthDome, tell them, tell them Balos is ours and all enemy forces have been annihilated."

"Not one ship surrendered." Patel said quietly.

"Did you expect them to?"

"No sir, not really, not with Jha'dur in command."

"Even when she died they still fought to the death." Hamato pointed out. "It goes beyond Jha'dur, its part of their whole society." He frowned. "Where is she anyway?"

"Joe Tennant was the man who finished her, the wreck of her ship drifted behind the moon."

"We'll recover it later, right now we need to provide orbital support to the army, still a lot of soldiers down there."

"Aye sir."

"We did it Commander, we broke them, we destroyed their last hope of beating us." Hamato stated. "Whatever happens now, they can't project forces beyond their borders. A super weapon is useless if you can't deploy it. We won."

"But the cost…"

"Is high." Hamato agreed solemnly. "But not in vain. It's a straight run now to the core worlds and Omelos itself. One more battle, one more garrison to beat, one more Warmaster to kill, then it's over."

"And then we go home." Patel smiled for the first time in a very long time.

"And then we go home." Hamato nodded, looking at the display. For a lot of his people there would be no homecoming, but they had achieved the impossible. For that he had no words to express himself, he just shed one solitary tear.

"All fighters, return to base." He ordered. "Well done, well done to you all."

The battered fleet reordered itself, heavily damaged but still able to assume a solid formation. When the infantry transports arrived they had a guard of honour right to Balos itself, and the rain of landing ships and Banshee fighters finally signalled the liberation of Balos.

This time nobody would stop them.


	94. Chapter 94

92

Balos

Earth Force Jurisdiction

September 18th, 2232

White contrails crossed the pale blue morning sky, hundreds, even thousands of lines of vapour so dense that they looked like artificial clouds painted in strong singular pencil strokes slowly tugged and scattered by wind streams high in the sky. Shuttles fell from the air in a constant tide, hundreds at a time dropping from orbit, landing, off loading their cargo or passengers, and then returning to orbit with a roar or engines and another white contrail propelling it from the eggshell blue to the inky black to repeat the process all over again.

Beside the shuttles were a handful of much larger craft, mainly Brakiri owned but with a few Markab and Vree vessels among them. These large ships had the ability to use their gravitic drives to land on a planets surface, something that was beyond most human ships beyond a certain size and weight. These great ships were dotted across the dried up seabed around the Hauser plateau, little islands of green or silver metal amid the bleak yellow sands of Balos, the ground around them a hive of busy activity as they dropped off thousands of tons of much needed supplies and reinforcements by the division.

The Battle of Balos was officially over, the fleet had secured orbit, smashed enemy resistance, and then slid into orbit and bombarded Dilgar bases and major troop formations without hindrance. The massed armies of Omelos, the best soldiers the Imperium had to offer were gone, wiped clean by plasma, lasers and nuclear strikes without having a chance to resist the human counter attack. Hamato had no desire to waste lives assaulting the Dilgar on the ground when his ships could do the job just as efficiently from orbit with no risk.

The barrage had lasted for several hours, lighting up the night sky in a fearful display. For the allies on the ground it was an awesome spectacle, a sight to be celebrated. It told them more clearly than any radio statement that the battle was won, that the relief fleets had finally arrived and that very soon it would all be over. By the time dawn broke over the mountains it was.

The attack had brought people to the surface, a global phenomenom that reached every surviving pocket of life on Balos. From human and League soldiers to the Balosian tribes and clans themselves, everyone had been united in hope and celebration cheering at the top of their lungs as light fell from the sky and the rolling thunder of burning air crossed the deserts, plains and shallow seas.

The bombardment had broken organised resistance on Balos, but it was unlikely to be the final word. Surviving Dilgar forces had gone underground emulating the Earth troops when faced with a similar situation. No one knew how many Dilgar had escaped underground, maybe thousands, maybe up to a million. It represented a major problem and meant Allied forces would have a messy cleanup job to undertake in the underdwellings. Fortunately they would be well aided by the surviving Balosians who excelled at tunnel fighting and would take great glee in slaughtering Dilgar soldiers cut off from supplies underground where their skills as a fast moving mobile army would be wasted.

Balos still had a long way to go before the Dilgar would be completely driven from its surface, but that concern was at the back of the minds of the people celebrating on the surface. Their world was free, after more than three years of occupation, slavery, genocide and torture, it was all over. The Dilgar had been broken, aid was flowing in, and the commanders of the Liberation Navy now had their eyes set firmly on Omelos itself, to pursue the dragon to its lair and slay it once and for all.

The soldiers of General Biek's First Army Group were officially stood down now fresh troops were pouring in. They had been pulled back to the main base around and under the Plateau and received some well earned rest and human food to replace the sludge like Balosian nutrients they had been enduring since the Grand Fleet cut them off. While they were still at second degree readiness it was unlikely they'd see anymore action in the war, there were plenty of other soldiers to take their place and that had seen more than their fair share of battles.

One of those people was Francis O'Leary, who despite never actually wanting to be a field agent or soldier had seen more death, disaster, courage and sacrifice than most veterans do in their entire careers. He sat on the edge of the Plateau, not far from the former location of Biek's command truck and the bombed out airfield he had first arrived at. On one side he had a clear view of the plains swarming with ships and people, along with the occasional burnt out husk of a tank from that same initial battle he had watched from this same spot so long ago, an eternity of memory yet just weeks of actual time.

He watched the scene on the plains without really seeing it, his mind filled with his own thoughts. Sound carried up on the dry air, machinery, engines, sometimes voices, all distant and muffled as if heard from a different room or different building. He was detached from it all, and he liked it that way for a short time, a time to think and reflect on what he had gained and what he had lost. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen and certainly hadn't wanted it. He'd been face to face with danger before and wasn't thrilled about making it a habit. This was real war, not like the movies, and people had died, people he'd known and cared about.

Lives had been destroyed in front of his eyes, not just wiped out by death, but ruined by circumstances. He had seen strong people shattered, friendships torn apart and worse. He had watched people change for the worse and could do nothing to stop it. Perhaps worse than that was the horrific nagging thought that this was all his fault.

This disaster could be attributed to one thing and that was a failure to predict the true size of the Dilgar fleet. If the Liberation Navy and Earth Force Command had truly known what was in store for them the offensive would have been handled differently, and the losses Francis had seen on the ground and heard about in space would likely not have occurred. This campaign had been the bloodiest in recent memory, the worst loss of human life since the nuking of San Diego and all of it was because the EIA did not do its job properly.

And of all members of the EIA, of all people who could be blamed for that oversight, Francis knew he was most responsible. He felt it in the depth of his stomach and it was not a sensation he savoured. He felt like he had blood on his hands, and some of it was dear to him.

"Hey there."

Francis was shaken out of his thoughts by the voice, the speaker stepping up to the rocky outcropping easily and calmly.

"Dom." Francis greeted his old friend hollowly. "Good to see you."

"You might try telling your face that." The young soldier planted himself down on a rock beside Francis. "You look like you just lost a pound and found a penny."

"Yeah." Francis shrugged. "Just thinking, that's all."

"There is such a thing as too much thinking." Dom relayed. "Here, got you something."

He retrieved a wrapped snack bar from his jacket and tossed it to Francis, who caught it without much interest.

"Chocolate?"

"Fresh from the transport." Dom informed. "The Captain passed them out, not strictly regulations but after all this time…" He tailed off.

"Little piece of home." Francis agreed.

"Little piece of sweet sugary home." Dom smiled. "Tuck in."

Francis looked at it for a second, then gave in and ripped the top off the confectionary, eagerly wolfing it down.

"Whoah there, savour it man!" Dom laughed out. "Might be months before you see another!"

Francis smiled and chewed a bit more slowly.

"Nice view from up here." Dom commented. "Take a look at all of that."

He gazed out over the landscape, the ships and troops, the plains, the mountains and the clear sky.

"Long way from Dublin." Francis stated.

"I've almost forgotten what trees look like." Dom chuckled. "This place is so arid, so dry. We used to complain about Irish weather but you know I'd give anything for some mist and rain right about now."

"It's been too long." Francis agreed. "Think it'll be the same back there?"

"It'll never change." Dom said assuredly. "You imagine it not raining in Ireland?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Nah, things like that don't change, like your mum's cooking."

Francis glanced over and raised an eyebrow. "Are you insulting my Mum's cooking?"

"Cooking is a strong word, boiling maybe." Dom grinned back.

"She's better at it than yours!"

"Well that's true." Dom agreed. "But I plan to have a big sit down meal when I get home, and I want it to be strained and watery. If it was cooked to perfection it wouldn't be the same, I want bad food at home, that's what home is to me."

Francis nodded. "That's what makes it familiar, home isn't supposed to change."

"Even if we do." Dom said. "Because if that doesn't change it means a bit of us hasn't changed either, even if we think it has."

"And we're still the people we were born to be." Francis sighed. "When did you get all smart and philosophical?"

Dom finished his chocolate bar.

"You pick stuff up when you go out in the real world." He said. "learn stuff, listen to the older guys. That sort of thing."

"Back home your biggest philosophical debate was whether you were a leg or breast man."

"I'm still undecided on that eternal question." Dom laughed back.

Francis smiled a little, but didn't feel much amused.

"How long as it been? A year since you joined up?"

"Yeah, near enough." Dom agreed.

"Just twelve months, and look how you've changed."

"I grew up, we both did."

"Yeah, but you know what I think?"

Surprise me."

"We grew up too fast." He said. "We got pushed into a place where we had no choice, where we had to adapt or die."

"I think they call that life Franky."

"Yeah, but why did it have to be ours?"

Dom shrugged. "Because we were here at the right place and the right time."

"What about the wrong place and the wrong time?"

"Maybe." Dom shrugged.

"If you could go back, if you could change your mind, would you?" Francis asked sincerely. "Would you avoid all this if you knew it was going to happen? All the death and pain and loss?"

"No, not one thing." Dom answered at once.

"You didn't even think about that."

"I don't have to, I ask myself the same thing." He said. "You don't know the half of it Franky, you saw some of the fights I've been in, but I went through a lot worse before we linked up. You can't come close to imagining the terror I went through, this place was a living nightmare! I was in the Black Watch Valley getting bombed and run down by armoured cars, I was shooting missiles at thinks a dozen yards away! You can't imagine how intense that was."

"So why go through all that again?"

"Because it made a difference." Dom said firmly. "Because I made a difference."

"If it wasn't you it would have been someone else."

"Would it? I don't know that." Dom said. "What I do know is that I saved lives, that by my actions people are alive now who might not be otherwise. Nothing else matters, all that terror and agony, it was worth it because people are alive now because I went through that and didn't crack. So if I had to do it again, I would."

"I don't know if I would." Francis admitted. "If I could go back to the Net Café that day when they took me away, I think I'd tell them to get stuffed."

"You don't mean that."

"I do." Francis said. "I think I've done more harm than good."

They held their words for a few seconds as a squadron of Banshees passed overhead, the angular planes roaring in a deep bellow of thunder despite being thousands of feet above them, tiny shapes trailing white in the sky.

"I don't know what it is you do exactly." Dom said calmly. "Or any of this secret stuff that happens, but I know people respect you and that they think you do a great job."

"How can you know things like that?"

"I see it in your friends." Dom answered. "They know what you do and they have faith in you."

"And where did it get them? One's dead and the other's a complete emotional wreck!"

"You can't decide fate Franky."

"But I did Dom, I didn't spot all those ships, I didn't warn them! All of this happened because I couldn't do my job properly!"

He looked down at the sand, the acknowledgement of guilt crushing down on him.

"I could have stopped this." Francis said. "If it wasn't for me Jenny and Paul would still be a happy couple, and all these people would be alive."

"You don't make choices like that Franky, there is a higher power than that."

"You mean God?"

"Actually I was thinking of the President." Dom smiled a little. "I know you Frank, I know you wouldn't say that everything was totally perfect would you?"

He shook his head. "No."

"So you advised caution I bet didn't you? You weren't a hundred percent positive of this because you never are, it's that cynic in you Franky, you don't grow out of that."

"I should have been more vocal."

"You don't decide strategy friend, that's for old people with medals and offices." Dom relayed. "Here's a secret, they plan for things like this."

"Plan for a massive fleet?" Francis asked dubiously.

"They plan for everything, Hamato has hundreds of people who just plan, nothing else. Now maybe they don't have the specifics, but I know they would have been ready for this."

"It didn't stop all this from happening."

"No, but we still won in the end didn't we?" Dom asked. "We still beat those ships despite the odds, and us two are still here alive and breathing enough for you to feel sorry for yourself, right?"

Francis nodded. "Right."

"And tell me how many lives have you saved? How many successes have you had?" Dom pressed. "You made a difference boy, you changed something for the better, even I can see that and I don't know anything about what you do."

"I just don't know if I can go back after this."

"Of course you can." Dom nodded. "You have friends, they'll be waiting for you."

"My Dad says we all end up where we belong." Francis said heavily.

"I did." Dom nodded. "This Platoon is like family. Some of them annoy the hell out of me, I mean some of the habits Bugs has… well, that's just the way it is, we all still get along because of what we have in common, not what separates us. We all went through a lot, so did you, but we got through and your Dad is right, this is where we belong."

"And all those who didn't make it?"

"That's just the way it happens." Dom said. "I've seen more of this than you, up close and personal. It shakes you, makes you feel like you aren't yourself anymore. Maybe you're not, but you get over it, you deal with it, you accept it."

"It's a lot to come to terms with."

"Whoever said it was easy?" Dom smiled. "If I can handle, so can you mate."

Francis smiled. "I always was the better one."

"That was before I learned unarmed combat." Dom chuckled.

"So did I, and from the Rangers!" Francis said back. "I bet I could take you."

"Airborne beats Rangers all the time." Dom grinned.

Francis looked back out over the plains with a smile. "Who'd have guessed this would happen to us?"

"Not me." Dom agreed. "We're a long way from where we started."

"Light years from Earth." Francis nodded.

"Not what I meant." Dom grinned. "We've come a long, long way in a year."

A few minutes later the two men resolved to return to their comrades, feeling considerably brighter and more enlightened. For all that had happened Earth and her allies had still achieved a decisive victory, at this point it was now inevitable that the Dilgar would lose the war, they just did not have the capabilities to drive back the forces arrayed against them.

What they could do however was make the final stages of the war very, very painful.

The airbase on the Plateau was in the throes of resurrection, the burnt out buildings and piles of blackened tubes and components that had once been shuttles were cleared away to make room for new buildings and craft. Bulldozers scraped the wreckage up and dropped it out of the way, repairing and flattening the runways for heavier landers to come down and deliver vital supplies in bulk.

Francis and Dom wove their way between busy engineering crews, shielding their ears from the screech of power tools and squeal of metal panels fitting together to form walls and buildings. Many structures were already up and occupied by personnel, with the wounded having priority. Hospital structures and triage centres held those who had been cleared to leave the planet on evacuation shuttles and return home for further treatment. A handful of hospital ships waited in orbit to take them back to Brakir, and from there on to the Earth Alliance itself.

Several shuttles were powering down nearby, streams of people filing out carrying cases and packs with hardened shells.

"Interesting." Dom remarked about on group. "Those are Navy uniforms, but they're using an Army marked shuttle."

Francis followed his gaze to a column of men and women hastily loading a couple of trucks beside a shuttle.

"Really?"

"Yeah, little unusual." Dom said. "They don't usual mix like that, and the Navy rarely has a shuttle shortage. If they did they'd borrow from the Marines, never the Army."

Francis watched the trucks start their engines and drive off at seed, heading away from the base and out into the plans beyond.

"Going somewhere in a hurry."

"They had army combat webbing too." Dom noticed. "But Navy side arms. Something not right about that, think they are friends of yours?"

"EIA? No, I doubt it." Francis said. "And Military Intelligence has its own equipment, they wouldn't need to mismatch stuff like that."

"Someone else then? Another Covert group trying to blend into the background?" Dom suggested. "Are there any other covert agencies on Earth?"

"I'm going to ask and find out." Francis said, committing the scene to memory. "In fact, there's the man to ask."

Stepping down from one of the newly arrived shuttles was a dark suited and broad shouldered man, straightening his jacket as he strode out into the sun. He quickly made eye contact with Francis and walked over to meet him.

"Agent O'Leary, it's a relief to see you in one piece."

"Good to be in one piece." Francis smiled. "This is my friend Dom, He's with the 99th Airborne."

"Heard a lot about you guys." The man shook hands. "Vic Chapel, I'm with the Agency."

"Good to meet you." Dom said honestly.

"I gotta ask." Francis spoke up. "Is the Agency deploying teams here?"

"Just me." Chapel stated with a hint of concern. "Not much we can do here, Earth Force is sending in Special Forces to deal with the remaining Dilgar, not really a job for field agents."

"We saw some people land not long ago, dressed as military but…well…"

"They weren't." Dom said. "Just didn't fit."

Chapel took in the information. "Where did they go?"

"That way, heading away from the main landing site." Francis said. "Not much out there."

"A Dilgar facility or two." Dom corrected. "Abandoned after the Gaim diced everything for a hundred miles of here on the first day of the attack."

"Dilgar facilities?" Chapel asked.

"Few armouries, barracks, one looked like a Lab." Dom said. "We have orders not to go anywhere near stuff like that."

"With what the Dilgar make in those places, good call." Francis said in support. "So who were they?"

Chapel grimaced. "Couple of ideas jump to mind."

"Someone from our Government?"

"In a way." Chapel nodded. "This isn't the place to talk about it, maybe when we get back."

"Sure." Francis nodded. "We were just going to pay a visit."

"That's why I'm here too." Chapel nodded. "Why don't you lead the way?"

They walked on a bit further until they came to a tent marked with a large red cross, the ancient symbol of the Army medical profession. It was a large structure with air conditioning and plastic windows in the walls and roof to allow decent natural light to filter through and create a pleasant environment for the patients. Machinery whirred and clinked as they entered and walked through, passing people in various states of injury.

They were quiet as they walked past the beds, showing the appropriate respect for the wounded. Most were human but a decent portion were aliens given the same exacting care as their allies from Earth. Treating aliens was a very difficult task owing to the distinctive biologies, but human doctors prided themselves on their wide knowledge of care and treatments for dozens of species, and the several Brakiri, Markab and Balosian patients had benefited greatly from that practice.

Most of the wounded in this tent were stable and conscious, reading books or watching vids on small screens. Many had visitors, virtually all of them in uniform chatting about seemingly mundane things that had never seemed so important as now. They joked about their injured friends getting an early passage home, and enjoyed the fact they had survived.

The bed at the far corner of the tent held the patient they had come to see, propped up on pillows looking through an adjacent window at the coming and going of shuttles and aircraft on the base beside them.

"Jenny." Francis smiled widely. "We brought you a visitor."

The young woman turned her head away and broke into a real smile, something quite rare in recent days.

"Hey, it's Vic."

"Yes it is." Chapel took a seat. "I was going to bring you grapes, but getting fresh food this far out is impossible."

"Must be." She nodded.

"So I brought you six boxes of chocolate instead." He grinned.

She laughed a rolling laugh. "You know how to treat a girl Vic!"

"Only the best." He replied. "You deserve it."

"I don't feel much like it right now."

"You will in time." He said. "Anyway, you're going home soon."

"Back to Earth, but I don't know if that's home anymore."

Chapel nodded, Francis and Dom sitting down too.

"I heard you were taken in by the Balosians."

"They made me one of the tribe." She smiled. "Real honour I'm told, they don't let in off worlders."

"Must have seen something in your skills." Francis said.

"And my attitude." She said sombrely. "They'd lost everything, just like me."

Chapel pursed his lips. "Yeah, I heard about that. Sorry Jenny, really, he was a good man."

"I know." She replied softly.

"The Director wanted to express his sorrow too." Chapel said. "He was pretty upset, he never met Paul but the things you guys did, they changed the war, really helped Earth prepare for what was coming."

"He did something good with his life." Francis said. "It's something to be proud of."

"I am proud." Jenny stated. "Doesn't mean I don't want him to walk through that door right now, big smile on his face, and tell me he had me completely fooled."

There wasn't much more to say after that.

"We got Jha'dur." Chapel changed the subject.

"Really?" Jenny sparked an interest.

"Captain Tennant finished her off, blew her ship clean in two." Chapel smiled. "Last we'll ever see of that witch."

"Did you find a body?"

"Body?"

"Yeah, you need to confirm it." Jenny said. "You need a body, she got away once before."

"Our search teams are busy recovering our own vessels, rescuing stranded crews in orbit." Chapel said. "They haven't even started on Dilgar ships yet."

"You need to do it, don't ask me why, woman's intuition." Jenny waved a hand. "But I never believe it until I see a body."

"I'll drop a line to fleet command." Chapel promised. "I heard you met another Spectre."

"More than one."

"My people tell me they're all gone now, you killed the last one at the base." Chapel said. "Guy called Arn'dal, supposed to be the best they had."

"I can believe that." She nodded slowly. "He had a hell of a right hook."

"Not good enough though huh?" Francis grinned.

"Not that time." Jenny agreed. "He's history."

Francis turned to Chapel. "Have you seen heather? How is she?"

"Still at Brakir, she's on a job." Chapel said. "But I passed on the information as soon as I heard it, I told her in person you were alive."

"What did she say?"

"Well by then she was married to Rocco the male model and…" Chapel tailed of as he saw Francis' eyes go wide in fear. "I don't believe how easy you are to stitch up!"

"So she's waiting for me?"

"Course she is!" Chapel grinned. "She couldn't be happier, she broke down in joy. That girl is something special Mr O'Leary, don't you dare do anything to upset her or you'll have me to answer to."

"And me." Jenny said. "I can still kick your arse from in here."

"Me too." Dom joined in. "I don't want to get left out of the vendetta."

"Me neither." A fourth person joined in. "Who are we going to get anyway?"

Sergeant Garibaldi grabbed a chair and swung it around, settling next to the other people around Jenny's bed.

"We were just making sure Francis is good to his Fiance." Chapel stated.

"Wait, she isn't…" Francis began to object.

"She bloody well better be by the time we get back!" Jenny cut in.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that!"

"Don't put it off." She said. "Take it from me, you can't afford to lose that time, you don't know how much you'll have left together."

He nodded, appreciating the pain in jenny's words. "You're right."

"She's never wrong." Chapel agreed. "And I know Heather thinks the same way."

"I'll get my best man speech ready." Dom said

"What makes you think it'll be you?"

"Who else likes you enough to do it?" The young man laughed. "Besides, I know all your most embarrassing secrets."

"Now that's going to be interesting." Chapel rubbed his hands together. "Hurry up and set a date."

"You just want to win the pool." Jenny huffed.

"What pool?" Francis asked.

"We had an office bet on when you two would tie the knot." Jenny said. "I'm already down twenty credits because you took this long already."

"I didn't know you all cared." Francis said flatly. "About the money."

"All about priorities." Chapel winked. "So get on with it."

"So how you doing?" Garibaldi asked Jenny. "Lets get you back to being centre of attention."

"I'm getting there." She said in return. "I mean I got stabbed, not a great feeling."

"Doesn't look like it hit anything vital." Francis said in relief.

"Or you've just got an armour plated stomach." Chapel suggested. "Looking at what you eat and drink, I think that's a good explanation."

"Nothing wrong with my diet." She defended. "Little Sashimi, bit of Calamari, good healthy meal."

Garibaldi stared at her in horror.

"You are coming around to my place for dinner." He said firmly. "Then I'll show you some real food, no arguments."

"I'd love to." She offered a smile. "How is your wife?"

"I don't know, I haven't been able to get a signal through." He replied. "Captain Franklin says the casualty lists got through so she'll know I'm alive."

"She won't have to worry." Jenny said gladly. "Something to be thankful for."

"What about you Sarge?" Dom asked. "You got shot too."

"Yeah, I kinda did." He said, as if suddenly remembering. "Turns out they got me pretty bad, messed up some of the tendons or something behind my knee. Really technical medical stuff, I zoned out."

"But you can walk?" Francis pointed out. "Because, well, you did."

"I can walk, run even." Garibaldi nodded. "But my days of jumping out of shuttles are done."

"What?" Dom nearly fell off his chair. "No way Sarge! You can't be grounded!"

"That's what I'm told." He nodded heavily. "Hey, I don't like it either. I'm going to tell the guys when I leave here."

"You aren't heading back?" Chapel asked.

"I'm not that badly hit, I'll stay here with the army until we all go home." Garibaldi explained.

"That's not fair!" Dom snapped. "You're the Sarge, I mean… You're the Sarge!"

"I know Dom, but I can't fight it." Garibaldi shook his head. "I'm done, the Colonel say's he'll get me a desk job but I don't know, sitting behind a desk isn't really my thing."

"You thinking of going private sector?" Chapel asked.

"It's on my mind." The Sergeant nodded. "I thought cooking, but I've gotten a taste for putting down bad guys." He smiled thinly. "Pretty good feeling."

"What can you do?" Francis asked.

"Well I have all this military training, and I was good enough to be a cop but had a bit of a colourful past if you know what I mean. I think private Security is the way for me, part body guard, part Private Investigator."

"I can see that fitting you like a glove." Jenny smiled widely. "Definitely you."

"Crowbar P.I." Dom grinned. "I still like the sound of that, but dammit Sarge, you're breaking up the team!"

"Can't be helped." He shrugged. "But don't worry, you guys were always the best. You'll get a good replacement."

"Not a replacement Sarge, just a substitute."

Garibaldi chuckled. "Thanks, but I got a promotion, Master Sergeant!"

"That's a pretty big step up." Chapel said. "Very nice."

"Gives me a very nice pension to retire on." Garibaldi said. "Good pay out, especially with all the service I've given to the Force."

"Yeah you sure earned it." Francis agreed. "I heard Captain Franklin got promoted too."

"He will be after the war." Garibaldi confirmed. "And transferred to a Marine Battalion."

"Poor Bastard." Dom shook his head. "He'll triple the IQ of the whole Battalion just by walking in the room."

"That's Jarheads for you." Chapel shrugged. "Now as a former Ranger…"

"Still not as good as Airborne." Dom grinned as he cut in. "Right Franky?"

"Pfft." Francis dismissed. "Jenny was Special Forces, she could beat a Ranger, Marine and Para all at once."

"Wait, who shot you Alfredo?" Jenny asked.

"The Dilgar!" He laughed.

"Yeah, yeah." She allowed the laugh at her expense. "I mean when?"

"What? They didn't tell you?"

"No, I guess they didn't or I wouldn't be asking." She raised an eyebrow.

Garibaldi nodded. "When we were falling back from the Dilgar base, I saw you laying wounded near that Dilgar scumbag. So I made a detour, picked you up, and carried you out of there."

She looked straight at him. "They never told me what happened, you went back for me?"

"Least I could do." He said with a sideways smile.

"That's not the half of it!" Dom said. "There were hundreds of them on us, gunfire was everywhere!"

"Okay Dom, It's cool."

"He's being modest." The other soldier said. "He went back into hell to rescue you, bravest thing I ever saw. And he got shot doing it and still carried you back even after getting hit."

"Like I said, least I could do for a friend." Garibaldi repeated.

"But coming back for me ended your Army Career." Jenny said.

"Doesn't matter, you might have had a bit of a death wish back there, but I wasn't going to let it happen. I'm a Sergeant, I'm supposed to keep you out of trouble."

She wanted to say more, but just couldn't find the words. She was moved beyond comprehension, that someone would risk so much and sacrifice something so dear for her.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He smiled widely and genuinely. "It was worth everything."

"Got some good news, you'll be back at Earth in less than a month." Chapel said. "Probably two weeks or so."

"Yeah, I think that's something to celebrate." Jenny said. "The Balosians are good people, but you know, maybe I belong somewhere else."

"Exactly what I was thinking." Garibaldi nodded.

"This place… just too many memories to deal with right now."

"I understand." Francis comforted. "You need some time off, get yourself together."

"The Director gave you a blank slate." Chapel added. "Take as much time as you need, anything you need you can have."

"Thanks Vic." She smiled. "But I still need a clean bill to travel."

"Hang on." Chapel stood up and spotted a Doctor passing. "Excuse me, Doc, got a second?"

The dark skinned man gave a bit of a look, then nodded and lightened up. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I just need a few minutes of your time Doctor…?"

"Doctor Benjamin Kyle." The man said in a clear and educated voice.

"Right, my friend here needs a Doctor to sign off on her, certify she's ready to travel." Chapel said. "Then we can take her home."

"Reasonable enough." Doctor Kyle said sternly, though it was clear his gruff manner was hiding a good nature beneath as most doctors tended to adopt on duty. He took up Jenny's medical notes from the clip board at the bottom of the bed and examined them carefully.

"So is she okay?" Francis asked.

"One moment young man." He said firmly. "Large bladed knife wound to the Thorax, stabilised, operated upon, looks like it missed your vital organs."

"Told you, armour plate in there." Chapel grinned.

"From this you look fine." Kyle confirmed. He signed off the notes and put them back. "You're free to go whenever you want."

"Thanks Doc." Chapel smiled and shook his hand.

"Don't mention it." The Doctor smiled back. "I'm glad to say you are both fine and there shouldn't be any complications despite the injury."

Chapel frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The Baby." Doctor Kyle said. "It will be just fine, I predict a natural birth about Thirty Five weeks from now. My congratulations. Now, I must continue my rounds."

"Of course Doctor." Chapel let him go, still rather taken back. "Thanks again."

He returned to his seat, where the group was in complete silence.

"Wow." Dom spoke first. "Well, congratulations I guess."

"Yeah." Francis agreed. "Congratulations."

"I don't know what to say." Garibaldi spoke quietly. "This is just amazing, it's a wonderful thing."

"I guess you saved two lives that day." She said, her eyes filling up.

"This is great news, you'll make a great mother." Francis smiled widely. "Damn, I pity anyone who has a go at your kid!"

"If it inherited your reflexes that little one's going to be a terror in the playground!" Chapel grinned.

"It is… I mean the Father is…" Dom tried to suggest.

"Paul?" Jenny asked. "Yeah, has to be."

"Even better then." Chapel said. "Kids got some good genes, good ancestry."

"I guess Paul didn't leave me all alone after all." She smiled sadly. "There's still apart of him alive, here with me."

"And always will be." Francis added. "He's got a legacy, and so have you. You know what this is? This is something to live for."

"Even when he's gone Paul's still trying to keep me on the straight and narrow." She smiled behind tears. "Sneaky old bugger."

"Something else." Garibaldi stood. "I saved this for you."

He took a wrapped bundle from his pack and handed it over.

"You were holding that tight, but I figured the Medics would leave it, or file it or whatever, so I kept it safe for you."

She unwrapped Paul's Smith and Wesson Revolver, bought as an antique to deal with the bigger alien threats. She had used it to kill his murderer.

"Alfredo." She held back tears. "What can I say?"

"Yes to Christmas Dinner at my place."

"Yes." She grinned widely.

"So we're even for everything." He nodded.

"It's… it's a lot to take in." She had to say.

"Yeah, lot of that going around." Chapel agreed. "Get some rest, come on guys, let's give her some space."

He ushered Dom and Francis away.

"I'll see you on the shuttle." He said.

"Be waiting for you." She waved.

"And remember, dinner." Garibaldi underlined. "No way out."

"I wouldn't try." She replied.

They left, giving Jenny some time to come to terms with the new. She felt something different, something she hadn't imagined would happen again.

She felt happy, and hopeful, and once again she looked to the future with joy.

Balosian Space

The area immediately above Balos was hectic and busy, filled with ships of various types from Earth and the League from freighters and support ships to the largest classes of Naval vessels. While the battle was over there was still much to be done and foremost among those tasks was the recovery of escape pods and the rescue of crew trapped in crippled or destroyed vessels.

Rescue ships and craft worked tirelessly, specialist yellow daubed vehicles with manipulator arms tore though metal while breaching pods and even maint-bots were pressed into service to aid the relief work. The highly compartmentalised design of the Earth ships meant that even when vessels were turned to molten scrap there was still a fair chance of someone, somewhere, surviving.

While most of the small craft worked feverishly in their tasks the larger warships stood closer to the planet at a state of readiness. While the grand fleet was gone the likelihood of an attack by the remaining Dilgar ships remained a strong possibility, especially given the weakened state of the allied forces. It had been a hard battle, and many ships still bore the scars of the attack. There was little time for true celebration, duty still called and life went on.

Outside the immediate notice of the fleet, beyond lunar orbit and drifting slowly and darkly towards nowhere a piece of wreckage proceeded on its way. Large but insignificant it rolled lazily and listlessly in the night, the forward third of one of the mighty and now extinct Sekhmet class of warships. Dilgar ships tended to be much less heavily built than their human counterparts and less able to take damage, but the Sekhmet was one of the rare few that could sustain a heavy beating and survive, and even in such a severely damaged state as this could still support life.

The debris from the battle was slowly fanning out, floating now at peace into the far corners of the galaxy as tombstones to the countless fallen. A few scattered pieces drifted with the forward hull, most of the smaller pieces had been caught and dragged away by the gravity of the Balosian moon as they passed by, but the larger pieces remained unaffected.

The markings on the hull were barely visible, the outer armour was stripped and bubbled, cracked and burned to the point of obscurity. A few slivers of rich colour still shone through, a memory of the glorious past and proud heritage of this fallen warship still fighting to be known. The partially visible pattern was in the form of an ancient tribal heraldry, a series of patterns that predated the Imperial era and went back to the roots of the Dilgar race. To outsiders it would have appeared as a meaningless set of lines and squiggles, but to a Dilgar soldier it was a source of great pride and prestige. It announced to anyone who understood that this vessel was the greatest of her kind, and carried into battle the greatest of her kind.

Ruined as she was the Battlecruiser Vendetta still laboured on in her most important duty, she still kept her commanding officer alive.

The air was grey, white light filtering through the hanging smoke of the bridge casting dull amorphous shadows in the familiar room. Electrics arced and flashed, small flashes of blue lightning cutting through the haze in temporarily blinding displays of uncontrolled power. There was little in the way of sound, just the crackle of power conduits and the lingering scent of burning fabric and plastics.

She could have been looking up at a cloudy sky, there was no sense of depth or distance, no point of reference to tell her the ceiling of her world was a dozen feet above her head and not stretching for an infinity of sky and shrouded stars. As she lay restfully the memories of her situation returned, the silence gave way to the thunder of guns, the rocking of shield impacts and the barks of frantic orders and warnings. She had to shut her eyes as she recalled the final moments of violence, the harbinger of doom roaring through a cloud of flame beside her, its guns locking on at point blank range, rows of wide barrelled cannons pointing at her, forcing her to look right down the muzzles as the massed batteries of a Nova Dreadnought delivered their final message.

The result was more about feelings than pure memories, sensations of falling one way and then being thrown another. She remembered her world spinning, everything turning blurred and hazy as if it were rushing past at great speed. All sounds were deafening, and after the first crack of thunder she recalled only dim rumblings and a ringing in her ears. The cries had been the worst, the panic and terror as the warship and fractured around them, their fate now inescapable. Those sounds were haunting, and the deafness had been more of a blessing than anything else.

She had accepted then in that moment that it was over, and she didn't mind. She had long term plans, she had a lot she wanted to accomplish, but she had accepted a long time ago that death was one possible outcome of the path she had taken. She'd probably have preferred to live, to keep fighting, keep trying to do something constructive for her world, but if she could not, if she had failed, she would be happier dead.

But she wasn't, and as her higher brain functions began to activate themselves and her senses started to do their job she realised she was not under a dark sky but was still on her warship lying on the hard metal floor several feet from her usual spot in the centre of the bridge pressed up against a wall. There was still no sound beside her own breathing, telling her that her ship's systems were likely still down but that they were out of immediate danger. There was no thud of impacts, no more shouts of panic or wail of alarms. Nothing.

She raised her arm before her, the uniform sleeve was dirty, dark stains of grease or oil from broken floor panels and door mechanisms mixed with blood, though she did not know who's it was. She pulled back her sleeve slightly to see her wrist watch, a device of human design she had adopted for purely practical reasons and focused her eyes on the readings.

It had been over a day since the battle, a full day, and it seemed like nothing. Her mind quickly assembled a few probabilities based on the situation. First she had not been rescued, that meant her forces had lost the battle. Secondly she hadn't been captured, which meant the Allied fleet was still tending to its own wounded, a situation that would not last forever. Thirdly she was still laying on the bridge, which meant her command staff was either dead or in a worse condition than herself. Either way it did her no good to just stay where she was.

She planted her hands and pushed herself, instantly feeling a sharp pain in her side. She gritted her teeth and pushed through it, rising to her feet with great effort. She expected the injury was probably a few broken ribs grating on each other, anything more serious and she'd probably have died before waking up.

The bridge was a mess, the floor choked with debris, panels from wall consoles, lighting brackets, wires and tubing all scattered and uncleared. The display screens were dark or smashed and several crew remained strapped motionless in their chairs. Jha'dur swiftly checked each one, finding them all dead and their consoles as lifeless as the operators. As she checked the helm console she found another figure at her feet, masked by a stack of wiring and twisted steel panels. Carefully she knelt and cleared away the detritus.

"An'jash." She said quietly, her voice hoarse and throaty. "Faithful friend."

She checked for a pulse, and as expected found none.

"It seems you ran out of luck before I did." Jha'dur said quietly. "I had imagined anything that would kill you would surely kill me too, perhaps the galaxy still has plans for me."

She reached over and closed the eyes of her trusted aide, then straightened her jacket dilligently and officially, making sure she looked presentable.

"You can go in peace Captain with pride, you fulfilled your duty without question and without fail. It was a hard war and a hard task, you did not falter once. You have earned a reward, and I hope there is an afterlife so you may claim it."

She rose again to her feet and offered a formal salute.

"I release you from your duty Captain, safe journey."

She rested her eyes on the officer a few more seconds, recalling the great support she had given her on the long and difficult campaign. An'jash had been one of the few truly dependable people she had known and often Jha'dur imagined she took her assistance for granted. It would be sorely missed in the future.

Her priorities began to reassert themselves and Jha'dur set her mind to survival. Whatever damage the vessel had taken it still had life support and gravity, and while no Dilgar ship had escape pods in case it gave the crew ideas that the Imperium did not encourage, they did have fighters and shuttles. If she could find one still intact she could return home, rally the defences and then… then she didn't know what she'd do, she was for a rare instance at a loss for ideas. She forced it from her mind, she could plan strategy later, right now she needed to get off the bridge and away from the massed Liberation fleets.

She made her way to the door and popped open the emergency panel, pulling the release catch behind and shorting the system. The armoured doors opened automatically, the multi ton portals far too heavy for anyone to simply prize apart by themselves. Beyond them the ship was likewise deserted, the corridor bulged and scattered with debris. Carefully she picked her way forward, looking for a functional console that would be able to giver her some information. It took her a good ten minutes to finally find one in a less damaged corner of the hull.

"Computer, accept command clearance." She spoke into the device. "Jha'dur, Warmaster, password Winter Breeze."

"Code confirmed." The machine said blankly.

"Ship status?"

"Life support operating at twenty percent, estimate four days until failure."

That was acceptable to Jha'dur, Earth Force would be here long before that if she couldn't escape.

"Engines destroyed, weapons destroyed, jump engines destroyed, sensors destroyed…"

"What is the status of the main hangar deck?"

"Destroyed."

"Secondary hangar?"

"Destroyed."

"Commander's private launch deck?"

"Operational."

She let slip a thin smile. "Show me a safe route from here to the bay."

"All routes are blocked." The Computer displayed.

"Which is least damaged?"

"Corridor number three, section four."

"Are there any other survivors?"

"Confirmed, two groups have assembled."

"Where?"

The computer highlighted two locations nearby, showing her what she needed.

"Maintain hourly reports regarding life support. Inform me immediately if the hull is breached in any place by an outside force."

She set off for the grouped survivors, the Sekhmet class had a relatively small crew due to its heavy automation but was able to protect them in a heavily armoured citadel. It didn't take her long to find them on the main mess deck securing vital living supplies and surrounded by various components and parts of the ships systems.

It took the crewman near the door a full five seconds to confirm that his eyes were not deceiving him before he shot to his feet.

"Warmaster on deck!" he yelled too loudly in surprise and astonishment, something the other survivors emulated as they stood to attention.

"As you were." She returned, pleased to see the scruffy looking and battered crew still had their discipline. "Who is in command here?"

"Warmaster." A male stepped forward. "Commander Tra'shek, forward gunnery control."

"Commander, how are your people?"

"Some minor injuries." He said. "I have twenty six fit for duty and eight wounded. Sixteen others died after the attack from wounds sustained."

"Good enough." She mused.

"We were going to check the bridge, but we thought it had been destroyed." Tra'shek stated nervously. "I surveyed the ship, we've lost over two thirds of our mass."

Jha'dur raised an eyebrow. "Tough ship."

"Yes Warmaster."

"My intention is to leave this vessel and return to Omelos, I have a private shuttle in my bay which should be intact. We will all leave."

"As you wish Warmaster." The Commander said. "We were assembling a communications set to call for help…"

"None will come, the Imperium have no ships to send here." She said. "Just humans, we must make our own way out before they come for us. Assemble the crew, we have work ahead."

The survivors pulled themselves together, invigorated by the arrival of the Warmaster and the prospect of a clear plan of action.

"Gather tools, the way will be blocked and we will have to cut through several walls to reach our destination."

"The wounded Warmaster?"

"Bring them with us." She ordered. "There is room for them on my ship. I will not leave capable soldiers behind, not in this hour of greatest need for the Imperium."

The work went quickly, through use of cutting torches, particle weapons and sheer brute force the survivors inched their way to the remaining launch bay, blasting through walls and tearing down mountains of debris to reach their goal. On the way they found several bodies of less fortunate crew and miraculously two survivors trapped in a maintenance port.

"Time to cycle the teams." Jha'dur announced. "Labourers take over the cutting, cutters time to do some heavy work!"

The different groups exchanged position, Jha'dur herself lending some direct help with her handgun, the exquisite weapon packing a considerable punch for its size. She shot out a few strategic load bearing points on a doorframe and let the labourers lever it out of the way.

It was hard work, but they were making progress.

"Alert." The computer announced in an unhurried tone. "Detected hull breach."

"Classify." Jha'dur ordered.

"Suspected breaching pod." It informed. "Section four."

"Next section behind us." Commander Tra'shek informed.

"Labourers, keep working." Jha'dur said. "Those who are armed, come with me."

She set off through the dimly lit ship, a dozen crew following her with an assortment of rifles and side arms. She bitterly cursed Earth Force for interfering while she was so close to success, while she and her people were close to securing freedom.

"Computer, number of breaches?" she asked.

"One." It replied.

"Just one?" Tra'shek frowned.

"Earth Force usually breaches in multiple locations if they can." Jha'dur saw his reasoning. "Split the defenses."

"Perhaps they don't think there will be survivors?"

"They'd still do it, they aren't this reckless."

"Confirmed intruders." The Computer said. "Section four point three, moving to four point four."

"That's this way." The Commander said warily.

"Ambush positions." Jha'dur ordered. "Take station over there, you men, in that room, be ready on my order!"

The Dilgar vanished into burnt out rooms and behind piles of debris, clearing the corridor as the unknown invaders marched closer. Jha'dur ducked into one of the rooms, her hand gun primed and ready. She could hear the footsteps proceeding down the corridor, slow but confident. There was a flicker of fabric, a hint of clothing rasping on metal and the sound of breathing as the enemy came closer.

She waited with immense curiosity, already certain they were not humans. The sounds of excessive fabric told her that, human uniforms were simple and practical, these sounded more like robes. She considered Markab as the likely boarders, which would be difficult, Markab Warriors were utterly fearless and as fanatical as anyone in the galaxy. She was thankful the Allies hadn't sent Gaim warriors, that would have doomed them all no matter what.

She held her breath as a shadow lengthened in the doorway, a figure approaching. She pressed herself tighter into a corner as a light shone in the room, flickering and illuminating the smoky air as the invader quickly checked the room and moved on, not noticing her. A few more figures walked behind him, and Jha'dur watched them pass the door.

They wore black hooded robes obscuring their features, but from their gait she could tell they were fighters. They had broad shoulders and held silver weapons, a mix of guns and some type of small cylinder. It was not a uniform she was familiar with, possibly some new Markab sect or military order, it didn't matter much. She let one more walk past, and as he drew level with the door she extended her arm and pressed the muzzle of her gun up against the hooded head.

"Looking for me?"

She didn't wait for an answer, she just pulled the trigger and grinned as the robbed figure fell to the floor wisping smoke from the wound. In that moment her team revealed themselves filling the narrow corridor with particle fire, casting down the black robed people in a flutter of clothing and light. It took more shooting than she expected, but after a few seconds several black bodies lined the floor.

"Move forward." She ordered. "Advance to the pod, find the rest!"

Her people leapt forward, moving through the corridors like sharks, guns at the ready. The Warmaster herself paused, the face of one of the attackers catching her eye.

"Interesting." She pushed a body over with her foot, exposing its true identity. A pale face looked up at her, bald but surmounted with a craggy grey bone crest around its summit. "Very interesting."

"Who are they?" Tra'shek asked.

"If I'm not mistaken, Minbari." She answered. "Never met one before, but seen Centauri videos of them."

"What are they doing here?"

"Making a serious error of judgement." She stated flatly. "Whoever they are, they are breaching a Dilgar ship of the line, our duty is clear."

She joined the troops as they ran through the corridor to the next section, however the gunfire had been noticed and a reception was waiting them. Two Dilgar at the front of the group fell as rapid gunfire met them, bright green energy weapons easily penetrating their body armour and crackling as they burned through the air.

"Positions!" Jha'dur ordered, seeking cover in a doorway. "Suppress them!"

Another Dilgar fell as the enemy moved towards them, swiftly advancing on their position. The defenders hurried into position and offered a vicious return fire, dropping a couple of Minbari and forcing others to take cover.

"Anyone find a grenade?" she asked.

She was answered in the negative.

"Very well, four men at the front, maintain full auto fire, keep their heads down!" She said loudly. "Next four, fix bayonets and prepare to advance!"

Her ragtag army did as ordered, but before they could act a small silver ball was thrown from the Minbari positions, bouncing to a stop near the front lines.

"Cover!" Jha'dur shouted, and threw herself flat.

The grenade detonated, but not in a traditional explosion. It released a gravitic shockwave, compressing the air around it and hurling it out with the same pressure as the heat from a chemical explosive would have created. Further to that it also managed to put a deep semi spherical crater in the deck and crush several yards of metal in the corridor, throwing debris down the narrow passage with a clang of steel on steel.

The effects of the weapon on the closest four Dilgar were gruesome, crushing their bodies with the invisible force of the detonation and killing them instantly. The others were hurled back by the pressure wave, sustaining blunt injuries of various types. Jha'dur was protected from the worst of the blast, but she still felt an intense pain in her ears as her ear drums burst an left her head spinning.

The sensation was joined by muffled yells as the Minbari attacked, following up the grenade with an assault. Most of her people were in no fit state to fight, but still tried. A couple of Minbari were gunned down as they roared into battle, discarding their guns in favour of metal staffs and knives. They easily overpowered their opposition, effortlessly turning aside bayonet thrusts and countering with viciously strong jabs and punches of their own.

"Commander!" Jha'dur barked, her own voice muffled by the damage to her ears, as if she were hearing things from beneath a pool of water.

"Here!" Tra'shek picked himself up.

"The ship is lost Commander, we have no more soldiers to face them!"

"I know Warmaster."

"They will not take us alive, death or victory, there is nothing else."

"Then to death Warmaster." The Commander nodded simply.

"To Death Commander." Jha'dur broke into a grin. "May she walk with us no more."

Jha'dur drew her sabre, her crafted blade and badge of office, one that had spilled the blood of many a foe. She gripped it tight in one hand, the matching pistol in the other. She had been surprised to live through the Nova Dreadnought attack, that would have been a worthy enough death, but this was probably better. Perhaps the galaxy still wanted to give her one last moment of glory.

She regretted it would not be humans who finished her life, but it was a minor quibble as she stepped from the doorway.

"For Omelos!" she yelled, stretching out her sword towards the Minbari.

"Omelos!" Roared Tra'shek as he ran forward, surprising the nearest Minbari and burying a bayonet through his chest, a look of mania on his face.

"And for Gar'shan!"

She drew back her sword, the Minbari before her bracing his fighting pike for the strike. Jha'dur simply laughed, and raised her handgun.

"So predictable."

She fired point blank into the Warriors head, then attacked the next one in line. Beside her Tra'shek made another lunge, his rifle blocked by a large warrior who quickly reversed his pike and hammered the Dilgar soldier to the floor with repeated strikes.

He Warmaster was past him, too focused on her own final battle to notice anything else. She deflected a swinging pike, sliding the pole aside so she did not take the full tremendous force of the hit. The Minbari were surprisingly strong for their size, but she was faster, ducking below the return swing and stabbing her opponent in an upward thrust through the chest.

A forceful blow struck her extended arm, forcing her hand to lose its grip on the sword. She swung her pistol around to meet the new threat but too slow, the biggest of the warriors brought his pike around again and knocked it from her grasp, breaking some of her fingers in the process.

Jha'dur refused to cry out, defenceless and surrounded she resolved to end her life in the manner she had lived it. She straightened her back, raising herself up to full height which as still several inches shorter than the Minbari soldier. She stared at him, meeting his gaze directly as he rolled his fighting pike over in his hand.

"Get on with it." She snarled. "I have better things to do than this."

With a smirk the Minbari warrior drew back his Pike and swung it at the side of her head, and Warmaster Jha'dur remembered a single fleeting image of her parents and brother, merely a child, before the world just stopped.

"That's her." Alyt Sineval drew back his hood, the senior warrior lowering his Pike as the body slumped at his feet.

"You are sure Alyt?" a fellow heavy set man asked beside him.

"It's her Shakiri, the image was a perfect match."

"What are your orders?"

Sineval looked at the fallen woman, helpless and entirely at his mercy. Physically she was unimpressive, but she had spirit. Two of his men were dead at her hand and she had not flinched when faced with her own demise, not that Sineval had wanted her dead of course, but she hadn't known that.

"Pick her up, take her back to the ship."

"Sir?" Shakiri let his mouth hang open. "We're taking her home?"

"We are." He said simply.

"The Clan elders sent us here to observe the Dilgar, to learn about them and if they were truly the herald of the Shadows! Not to bring one home!"

"If the Clan Elders wish to learn of the Dilgar, what better method then asking their most famed leader?"

"With respect Alyt, this was meant to be a secret reconnaissance mission, we are here to observe without being noticed, not bring home samples."

"We missed the battle, we arrived too late." Sineval said. "We don't know what happened beside the fact that the Dilgar lost, but she knows and she can give us the answers we need."

"We should leave her, we are not Streib!" Shakiri stated forcefully.

"No, we are Minbari." Sineval said with growing irritation. "And Minbari do as ordered."

Shakiri bowed humbly, the young warrior taking the chiding for what it was. "I hear and obey Alyt."

He gestured to the fallen body, and two Warriors bore her away.

"Recover our fallen brothers." Sineval ordered. "Then prepare to depart."

"There are still several Dilgar life signs on this ship elsewhere." Shakiri reminded.

"We have what we came for, we need nothing more." The commander stated. "Recover the fallen."

He bent down and picked up Jha'dur's side arm, and with a smile slipped it into his robes as a trophy.

The black robed warriors swiftly gathered the bodies from the ambush and loaded them back on their ships, then with no further ceremony broke the seal and drew back, the assault shuttle moving away under its gravitic engines. Standing off in the shadow of the moon was the blue curved form of a warcruiser, masked from the allied fleets by the bulk of the planetoid and its own series of advanced electronic countermeasures. The assault flyer made its way into the welcoming hangar bay, making Shakiri feel much more relaxed and safe as the small craft landed behind the thick walls and powerful weaponry.

"We are a long way from home Alyt." He commented as the doors opened and the warriors began to disembark.

"We are, but the Elders were specific on this mission."

"Do you believe the Shadows are awakening?"

"I am not sure if I believe in Shadows at all." Sineval grunted. "A Legend, a myth, that is the province of the Religious Caste, not Warriors."

"So if I may ask, why agree to this mission at all?"

"Because while the Shadows may not be real, there are many races who are, many races who one day may seek to invade us." Sineval said. "We have been in isolation for too long, many new and powerful Empires have grown in our absence. We must know who they are, so that if one day we must go to war with them we are not fighting blind."

He stepped down from the flyer and gazed at the unconscious Warmaster.

"This one was our most concerning subject, she and her kind would have been the ones most likely to attack us. Last we heard the Dilgar were running rampage through the stars, now they are all but beaten."

"By this race called Humans?"

"Yes, perhaps." Sineval nodded.

"Should we investigate them too?"

"Those are not our orders." Sineval turned away. "Our orders were to gain information on the Dilgar, that we have done."

Shakiri matched his pace as they left the hangar. "Is it not prudent to investigate all possible threats and rivals while we are here?"

"There will be other missions." The Alyt dismissed. "In time we will investigate Humans, I believe the Narn are next. We do our tasks as appointed to us Shakiri, do not extend yourself, if we do all at once what will we as Warriors do tomorrow to prove our worth?"

Shakiri nodded with a slight smile. "You are right Alyt."

"We share a Clan Shakiri, a proud and ancient cabal of Warriors." Sineval stated as they reached the command centre. "We must secure our future, not just for all Minbari, but the Clan itself. Our prisoner is something for the Windswords alone, not for the Minbari race. She will be kept secret, quiet. We will learn from her, then dispose of her as we see fit."

"The Council did not order her capture did they?"

"No, but the Clan did." Sineval said. "And our council orders did not expressly forbid a prisoner, so we did nothing wrong."

The Alyt took his place stood in the centre of the bridge, the wrecked Dilgar flagship on the holographic screen before him.

"Our orders were to leave no trace of our presence." Shakiri said. "A prisoner would surely violate that?"

"Only if they find out." Sineval corrected. "Forward guns, lock weapons on target."

A Warrior beside him did as instructed.

"Locked Alyt."

"Open fire."

Green beams lanced from the mighty warcruiser, a well placed and brief volley that cut deep into the remnants of the ship, destroying it utterly.

"No traces." Sineval repeated. "Open a jump point, our mission is a success, both for the Council and for the Clan."

The alien Warship left the scene, the Allied vessels too preoccupied to notice the slight energy surge of its departure as anything more than an anomaly. The blue vessel began its long journey home through hyperspace, carried within it a cargo that should not have been taken and by its actions challenging fate and giving Jha'dur another chance at the one thing she had finally had enough of. Life.


	95. Chapter 95

93

Somewhere in Minbari Space

Thirteen years later

"As you might expect I was not best pleased."

Jha'dur stood stiffly at the edge of the room gazing at the wall of her quarters, at the image hanging unadorned on the pale coloured edifice in front of her.

"There was nothing I could do about it of course, Sineval was a better fighter than I was, stronger, faster and well trained in the art of single combat. I could not have defeated him and I could not have stopped what he did to me. Unlike your friends in the Warrior Caste I have no hang ups about admitting defeat and acknowledging I am not perfect."

"Sineval was acting against the wishes of the Council." Delenn said bitterly, still seated on the couch. "He was not authorised to bring back prisoners! I cannot believe the arrogance of the man to do something so blatant!"

"And yet there it is, not only did he get away with it, he prospered. The Windswords applauded his achievement, praised him quietly for his daring and for showing the others that the Warrior Caste will do as it pleased."

"The Council must have found out, they must have known you were here."

"They did after a while, probably checked the logs or heard testimony." Jha'dur reasoned. "But by then it was too late, what could they do?"

"Send you back to the League to face justice." Delenn said harshly. "Demote Sineval to the lowest of cannon fodder! Punish the Windswords to remind them of where they stand!"

"You can't send me back, to do so would be to admit that your race gave me shelter." The Warmaster looked over at Delenn with a plain smile. "How do you think that would have looked? The Legendary Minbari, ancient warriors of light sit back and let the galaxy burn, but at the key moment step forth, shimmering noble warriors, and then rescue the most reviled and hated figure in the galaxy. Take her home, heal her, give her food and drink and enjoy conversations about military precedent and warfare. I can see the League reacting really well to that."

"I think the League would be so overjoyed at having your head they would not question wher eit came from."

"A nice image." Jha'dur grinned. "But flawed, if you were to surrender me right now the human media would have a field day. They would stir up the League, they already call you the new Dilgar, genocidal maniacs and the war is barely a few months old! Imagine how it would look if it turns out that you have given me aid and shelter? That you have cosied up to the biggest war criminal the League has ever known?"

"The league has already decided not to aid Earth."

"Yes, you bullied them with threats of orbital extermination to stay out of the war." Jha'dur laughed. "I give you my compliments, you know how to kick someone when they are down! Tell me, does it make you feel powerful to wade into someone else's space with a fleet of ships and threaten their lives?"

"It was the Council's decision." Delenn replied. "A clear statement."

"The League is still rebuilding from my little escapades, they are recovering from one attempt at genocide and you threaten them with another! Not a good way to make friends Satai, and it only serves to prove the human points about you simply being a new version of me."

Delenn maintained an even composure, something she had been working on a lot lately. Her emotions were part of who she was, but the last time they had gotten out of control they had set a course for her race which she deeply regretted. Somehow she suspected Jha'dur knew and was playing with her, testing how strong her control was. Delenn wasn't going to fall for it in the same way Neroon did.

"The League were beholden to Earth and were preparing to assist."

"Amazing isn't it?" Jha'dur said. "The League, the biggest group of self serving egotistical petty power grabbers in the universe, a group so divided and inept that I was able to beat them at more than ten to one odds, actually united virtually overnight to send help to Earth even knowing who they were fighting. Don't you find that impressive? That humanity could have had such an impact on such a dichotomous group as the League?"

"Clearly they did not know who they were fighting, of else our warning would not have worked."

"The threat of losing your homeworld while your fleet is deployed elsewhere is very persuasive, used it a few times myself. In fact, I remember mentioning that fact to Satai Morann at the start of the war… who on the Council proposed the idea I wonder?" She grinned widely. "Wasn't Morann was it?"

Delenn did not answer, but her silence was reply enough.

"If the Warrior Caste had an original idea of their own I suspect their heads would simultaneously explode, unable to comprehend and contain the alien sensation within their brains."

"It was necessary to keep the League out of the war, we did not have time for diplomacy."

"So you resorted to terrorising them instead. My compliments Delenn, I can see the Minbari are shaping up nicely."

"Your compliments are like a curse." Delenn said coldly.

The Dilgar female chuckled in response. "Never the less, you earned my approval, take that as you will."

Delenn continued to contain her growing anger at the insinuations.

"But something which puzzles me." Jha'dur announced. "Why?"

"Why?" Delenn repeated.

"Why would you need to keep the League out of the war? I've fought them and know they haven't progressed their technology much since then. Their ships are easier to beat than human ones, no match for you magnificent Warcruisers. So why do you fear battle with them?"

"We don't fear…"

"Somebody does, somebody needs this to be a purely human and Minbari affair. You've scared off everyone, but why?"

"There are strategic concerns."

"That's the Council talking, you know better than to try and lie to me, so come on Delenn, why?"

Delenn raised her eyes straight up, glaring right into the mocking expression of the last Warmaster.

"Because this war is turning us all into murderers. The humans are doomed to die at our hands, but it doesn''t mean we have to kill all the League too."

"You think the Warriors would do that?"

"If the League interfered, once Earth was beaten they would attack their allies, yes, I believe it."

Jha'dur nodded. "Good Delenn, an honest answer. And you are correct, the Warriors would exterminate the Brakiri or Drazi if they had the chance, you know how they love a one sided slaughter."

"There will be death enough in this war, there is no need to extend it." Delenn said. "I agreed because it was a necessary evil, something done for their own good, even if the League do not see it at first."

"I believe that is why you did it Delenn, maybe your friend Rathenn too, but I think the Warriors have their own reasons."

"What reasons?" Asked the Minbari.

"The League, while not so advanced as your people, has a staggering amount of resources." Jha'dur commented. "They could never organise enough to bring that advantage to bear against me, but as you've already seen they were ready to unite behind Earth. Thanks to humanity they are organised, and all those resources are at their fingertips, exploitable because of good old Earth Alliance Credits."

She took a small sip of her Brivari.

"Your fleet is formidable, but even the mightiest warrior can be felled by enough ants. With the amount of resource sin the League, with the ease Earth can build ships, with the manpower reserves of dozens of major worlds, they could swamp you Delenn, bury you in ships."

"The losses would be enormous."

Jha'dur shook her head and tutted. "Haven't you heard anything I've said? Casualties don't matter if they die for a reason! You won't break human will power by killing them, you won't break their will at all! You have given them no choice but to fight, and you have no idea what you will unleash!"

"This is different!" Delenn countered.

"It is the same!" Jha'dur snapped back. "I gave the humans no choice but to fight at Balos, and they clawed me down over a mountain of their own dead. Your people have raised the stakes even higher and forced them onto an even more narrow path than my race ever did. You take that level of commitment, then you throw in the resources of the League and possible fleet support freeing up humanity to go on the offensive. Your fleet is too small to be everywhere at once, you send a taskforce to the League and it weakens your home defences, something Earth would exploit. Scaring off the League was probably the smartest thing your people have ever done."

"The humans haven't won a single battle from us, not in a fair fight."

"There is nothing fair about this war Delenn." Jha'dur corrected. "And it hasn't stopped them fighting just as hard, has it?"

"We've never fought an enemy that did not just give up when it was clear they were beaten."

"Earth resolved to beat me even if it cost them every ship." Jha'dur stated calmly. "This is different, they are beginning to realise they can't beat you even if they sacrifice every ship they have. They can't win and you won't let them surrender, so they will set themselves a new goal."

"What could they possibly seek to achieve?" Delenn asked hesitantly.

"To cause your race so much death and pain that your final victory will be a bitter one, that the price you paid to defeat this minor annoyance would be so great that your future generations will curse you for your folly." She smiled a mocking grin at Delenn. "You will win the war Delenn, but it will cost you your civilisation. Enjoy it while you can, this war will end Minbari society as surely as it will humanity's."

"No." Delenns hook her head. "Our world has held firm for a thousand years, following the footsteps of Valen. We have endured because the alternative is too terrible to contemplate."

"Just look around you Delenn, you've seen it with your own eyes." Jha'dur returned. "It's all beginning to unravel, all that meekness and aloof superiority, all that conceit, it's all going up in smoke and you are revealing your most basic feelings. Hate, passion, bloodlust. I wonder what Valen would say if he could see you now? If he could see the savagery you are releasing against a helpless victim? Your legends say he will return soon, maybe he is already watching this war and crying in despair."

"This war has united our race like never before."

"You all shared anger, but anger is fleeting and so will be this new found unity." The Warmaster stated. "When it wears off and you are left the reality of what you have done, and what you are doing, then you will look inward and feel shame. Then you will look outward and see the Warriors aren't feeling any shame, they are enjoying themselves, they are enjoying the slaughter you feel ashamed off." Jha'dur locked her eyes on Delenn. "Then you'll see your divisions, the old 'us and them' feelings return splitting the Warriors from the rest of society. Oh, it will take time, but this is the thin end of the wedge Delenn, and you know it."

Delenn reluctantly nodded. "It is not a war we should be fighting, it is not what Dukhat would have wanted."

"He was a wise man, you might call him a good man too." Jha'dur shrugged. "I never saw much distinction."

"Between good and bad? I am not surprised."

"Good, evil, right and wrong. They are concepts." Jha'dur answered. "I deal in realities."

"Concepts that shape the world."

"Concepts that give people slanted views of what the world should or shouldn't be." Jha'dur corrected. "And then they go out and make choices, take actions, do things and it is those decisions and consequences that change the world, not thinking. I just cut out the middle part."

"They give you a direction in life."

"I'm happy to find my own direction."

"A course that brought you here?"

She did not answer at once, seeming to dwell on Delenn's words.

"My presence here has nothing to do with me, as I just told you."

Delenn sat still in the chair.

"Still, you can't deny fate has been good to you."

"Has it really?" Jha'dur remarked flatly.

"You were taken from certain death, if not on your ship then on your homeworld."

Delenn noticed that the Dilgar bristled a little at the reference to Omelos.

"You are here in a sanctuary." The Satai continued. "Safe from your enemies and apparently holding some influence over the Windswords. You are comfortable, you continue your research, you have no fear of attack or discovery, I see nothing for you to complain about."

"I am a trophy, an ornament, a conversation piece." Jha'dur answered. "I am an accoutrement, an accessory to the Windswords the same as a museum piece or hunting spoils. They look down on me, I am not an equal in their eyes, at best I am a pet. They keep me because it reflects their glory, to have such a military leader in captivity must logically mean that they are better to have caught me, that they are superior to the best the galaxy can produce."

"I did not say it was easy, but it is better than the alternative." Delenn pointed out.

"No it isn't." The other replied. "The Windswords didn't take me out of the kindness of their hearts, or even for practical reasons to learn from me. It was ego, pure and simple. I am a boost to the ego of the entire clan, they do not understand."

"But I do." Delenn lowered her voice. "I have done a little investigation since our first meeting."

"Find anything nice?"

"I found a record of your visitors, and their increasing frequency."

"It must be my charm and kindly nature."

"Or the advice you are giving them, the new strategies I've noticed the Warriors using." Delenn mused. "They must value your opinions, they must talk to you a lot."

"If by 'talk' you mean 'use as a way to correct their badly misguided views of modern war' then yes, we talk a lot."

"And if they come to rely on you, well, doesn't that give you influence over the leaders of the Warrior caste?"

"I suppose it would." Jha'dur smiled. "And your point?"

"Who said I had a point, simply making a series of completely coincidental observations." Delenn said innocently.

Jha'dur laughed a little. "You are far better at this than Sineval, he has no idea how easy he is to manipulate. He defeated me you see, he thinks I'll never again challenge him. I don't need a confrontation to get my way, something these people will never understand. But I'm glad to see you do."

"Why be pleased, it means you can't manipulate me?"

Jha'dur grinned, playing along. "It means that in the end the Warriors will fail, brains beat brawn. When you end up confronting the Warriors, as one day you must, you're going to win."

"There will be no confrontation."

"Yes Delenn, there will."

She didn't mention how she had been dropping hints for years, sowing doubts, inflating the ego and sense of self importance within the Warriors she had spoken to. Jha'dur knew better than most the weaknesses of an imposed system, and by this stage the rules of Valen greatly resembled an imposed system as the necessity that had given birth to them no longer exited. At least not in the open.

Her captivity was boring, accelerating and setting up the breakdown of Minbari society was an amusing distraction to the tedium, and a personal 'Thank you' for their interference.

"At least now you know why I am here." Jha'dur broached a new subject. "And if it helps restore some of your faith it was not the will of the Council. Honestly I hate being here as much as you do."

"You can leave at any time, I will help you if you ask for it." Delenn stated.

The Dilgar offered a sideways smile. "A nice plan Delenn, remove the source of contention. But as you pointed out, I have no other choice. Not at this point anyway."

"There is somewhere you could go." Delenn replied. "Anywhere but here."

"Such hostility, and after all the help I have offered too. Where is that Minbari gratitude?"

"I have seen your help." Delenn answered sharply. "The weapons you would give us, plagues and cybernetic soldiers? You would turn our Warriors into freaks of nature!"

"Too late, they were quite capable of doing that themselves." Jha'dur chuckled. "Still, they give me plenty of subjects to work with."

Delenn's face dropped, much to the Warmasters delight.

"Don't worry, they haven't brought me any live test subjects." She sipped her drink. "Yet."

"You never will."

"Funny thing I've noticed, you hate me Delenn." Jha'dur remarked. "Don't deny it, I can't blame you, I'd hate someone like me too in your position. Yet you still use me for information. You still ask for my help and expect me to just give it without question. In that respect you are no different from Sineval and his brood, you expect me to help because I am a prisoner, at your beck and call. For all your protests, you suffer the same weakness as your comrades in the Windswords, that same superiority complex."

"It is not true." Delenn stated coldly.

"Yet you need to prove your superiority, to be magnaminous to the weak, to be benevolent. You grant me a personal audience instead of just ordering me to turn over my information, you threaten and cajole me with your power and position."

"I have never threatened you!"

"It is the way of a leader, embrace it Delenn, you want to be part of the Council don't you? To be a great leader? To be accepted by your peers who still look down on you as if to a child?"

"You are overstepping your boundaries Dilgar!"

"So throw me in prison!" Jha'dur laughed. "Oh, wait…"

"Perhaps I should throw you to the League."

"Hit a nerve?" Jha'dur grinned widely. "So who are you trying to impress? The Council by acting all powerful? Throwing your weight around like you are one of the club? Maybe it's Dukat, trying to follow in his footsteps and copy his authority without earning it through years of effort and respect?"

"I have told you before, do not speak that name."

"Ah, another threat. Still needs work though, you are too small and young looking to be really scary."

"Why should my looks matter?"

"Why indeed, it is what you are capable of that matters, what you have done." Jha'dur moved in for the kill. "It is a rare privilege Delenn to be responsible for the extermination of a race."

"How dare you…"

"I embrace you Delenn, one mass murderer to another."

The diminutive Minbari shot up from her chair. "I am nothing like you!"

"I know who we can ask! Why don't we ask the man who knows you best?" Jha'dur announced. "How is your father? I heard he was quite ill?"

With a swift movement Delenn slashed her hand across Jha'dur's face, knocking her head sideways. It was a hard strike, but served only to make Jha'dur laugh even louder.

"That's right Delenn, get in touch with your inner self!" She turned back. "How did it go last time? Kill them all! No Mercy! Gods I miss being able to say that. Glad to see you are continuing the tradition I started!"

Delenn backed off in horror, keenly aware that the Dilgar had driven her deliberately to the point of losing her temper, something she had sworn never to do again.

"You are a monster."

Jha'dur nodded. "I am a monster, I am a killer, a mass murderer, an instigator of genocide. I am the stuff of nightmares feared across the galaxy, hated with such a passion I can sense it even from here. I am death, and guess what Delenn? So are you."

"What you did, you chose to do." Delenn stated, forcing herself to cool off. "You made a clear weighed decision, and that decision was to end tens of billions of lives."

"And you think that because you were in the heat of the moment you aren't to blame?"

"I did not say that."

"Good, because you are to blame." Jha'dur returned. "You are on the Grey Council, the highest power in the most powerful empire in the known Galaxy. If you can't control yourself in a role like that, if you can't fulfil those responsibilities, you should put a gun to your head right now. You'll find mine on Sineval's wall."

"I have taken responsibility for my actions, and I will do whatever is in my power to put my mistake right." Delenn said forcefully. "Even talking to someone like you."

"So it would appear."

Jha'dur sat down on her couch, satisfied that she now had everything she needed to know regarding Delenn.

"Your father is ill isn't he?"

Delenn nodded. "The war has made him soul sick."

"He doesn't know you started it does he?"

She shook her head.

"That knowledge would kill him." Jha'dur made a mental note, saving the information for a future bout of entertainment. She recalled stories of how ancient gods would chose a mortal and take bets on how badly they could ruin his or her life. Jha'dur was no god, but could still derive pleasure from the same games.

"I am going to end this war." Delenn said. "Plans are already in motion."

"So I have heard." She nodded. "People talk, and you'd be surprised how easy it is to piece together throw away comments in several different conversations."

"The humans made a mistake, and so did we."

"You mean so did you." Jha'dur pointed out.

"So did I." Delenn accepted. "And I will correct it."

"And in so doing give your father a reason not to hate what you have become. How touching."

"What would you know about the love of a family, a true family?" Delenn replied.

Jha'dur gave a purring laugh as she refilled her glass.

"You might be very surprised."

"I have trouble believing you ever had a family, it can't have been like ours."

"The Brakiri believe I was born from the tail of the Comet of death." Jha'dur grinned. "The humans say I was genetically engineered in a test tube from the DNA of the worst villains ever to have lived. The Markab think I was spawned in the pits of hell itself, and forced to leave because I was giving the place a bad reputation!" she took an amused drink. "But no, I was born and raised like anyone else. I had a good family, strict but they did care about me. My early life was entirely normal, not some academy in evil."

"Yet you still became this monster."

"So have you Delenn, do you feel evil?" Jha'dur raised an eyebrow. "No horns or tail, no numbers on your skull, you certainly don't look or act evil. Yet if the humans knew your name and role in the war you would be to them what I am to the League. They would blame you personally for all of it, rightly or wrongly. You will have to live the life I lived, hiding and constantly in turmoil over your actions." She lowered her gaze. "Losing a bit more of yourself everyday until eventually there is nothing left of who you once were."

The Warmaster looked back up.

"One day you won't be able to look at yourself in a mirror anymore. You hate and revile me, but how will you cope when you realise you are the same as me? Even if you end this war, tens of thousands of lives are on your hands, needless deaths."

"I don't need to go down that path, I can stop it."

"You are already there, it is already done." Jha'dur informed. "You just don't know it yet."

"Then I must learn to live with it."

"Take it from someone who knows, you never come to terms with it, you never live with it. It haunts you until it kills you or drives you insane."

Delenn frowned. "So why aren't you dead?"

"I am." She smiled back. "The original Jha'dur died the day Omelos did, she died when hope died. She'd been in trouble for a long time, and I moved in to do all the things she didn't have the nerve for."

"But you are Jha'dur."

"All that is left of her." The Dilgar nodded. "But all that once was her. I'm just the parts that didn't die when her soul did. I have her memories, I can see the faces of people in her past, but they mean nothing to me. I don't feel a thing, not a thing."

"So Jha'dur became a different person so she could live with what she had done?"

The Warmaster looked at Delenn with a smile. "Something like that."

"It won't happen to me."

"I wouldn't be so sure. You can never go back Delenn." Jha'dur informed. "One day you may reach the same conclusion, that the only way to live with yourself is to become a completely different person."

She laughed.

"Maybe you can spin yourself a little cocoon and emerge as a beautiful butterfly untainted by the past? Get along with any remaining humans, be all nice and pretend those words never left your mouth."

She chuckled a little more.

"But it would still be you in there, deep down, and it still hurts. One way or another fate will bring you the pain and grief you deserve before you die. Take it from one with experience."

The room was quiet for a while before Delenn spoke again.

"What happened next, after Balos?"

"We lost, the end."

Delenn gritted her teeth. "But how? What did the humans do after the war? Did they keep their promises to rebuild the League and give back liberated worlds?"

"You mean are they trustworthy and honourable? Yes, they proved that before Balos. They aren't villains or opportunists, they kept their word, they did the good thing despite the pain and death it caused them. And now you are about to wipe out these little paragons of virtue and rosiness."

"What happened next Jha'dur?" Delenn demanded.

"If you recall I spent the end of the war laying in a cell getting mocked and laughed at by fat headed Minbari warriors!" She snapped. "You think I was given this room out of respect? I had to exert considerable effort to get these quarters! Not a story I'm interested in sharing."

"You can't just leave the story there!"

"Why not? I have nothing more to tell." Jha'dur shrugged. "My war ended that day, and the rest of the Imperium surrendered a month later. I know no Warmaster would ever just surrender, so they must have annihilated our fleets, bombed Omelos until some spineless bureaucrat took over and cried for mercy."

Delenn sat back in annoyance. "You never learned how the war ended?"

"Sineval walked into my cell one day and said we had surrendered. Then he walked out again looking deeply amused. I came within minutes of suicide as any captured warrior should."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because if I die my race is gone." Jha'dur answered. "And that I can't allow. Besides, suicide would have been an act of spite designed to rob Sineval of his trophy. I can do better than that, I can do far, far better."

Delenn felt an involuntary shiver at the ice in the Warmasters voice.

"I shouldn't be here, I should have died with my world and my people." Jha'dur spoke bitterly. "It was where I belonged, now I don't fit in anywhere."

"You are still a gifted scientist, there is a lot you could give back to the galaxy."

"There certainly is." She smiled thinly.

"You should see this as a second chance."

"It s my punishment, to live on in the knowledge that all I have worked for is radioactive ash. To endure this existence forever, my greatest wish becomes my greatest torment. Damn the universe has a twisted sense of humour."

"It does not have to be a trial, you can help people."

"All my hope is gone now." She continued, not caring for Delenn's words. "The humans say that true hell is the impossibility of hope. They are a lot smarter than your kind."

Delenn sighed and gave up. "Is there anywhere else I can find out how the war ended?"

"One place." Jha'dur said. "It will have the records you need."

"What is it called?"

"The Library of the Alliance."

"Where is it?"

Jha'dur broke into a laugh. "Geneva, right beside the human Senate building!"

Delenn stood with a scowl as Jha'dur's mocking laughter rang in her ears.

"Tell them who you are, they'd love to meet you!" She chortled. "They would welcome you with open gunports!"

Delenn walked away.

"Course you know all about welcoming people with open gunports! You complete bloody idiots!"

Delenn opened the door and stepped out, her face dark with anger, not at Jha'dur but at herself.

"Why don't you stop by when you are wiping out the inhabitants? Take a break from the genocide, relax a little as billions burn around you!"

The door slid shut with a screech of metal, leaving Jha'dur alone and deeply amused.

"Gods that was fun." She tittered to herself.

She looked over her shoulder at the wall, at the image which always drew her attention, the picture of Omelos.

"It isn't over yet, not while I still draw breath." She raised her glass. "To a Dilgar victory, one way or another."

Grid Epsilon

Earth Alliance Space Station Babylon 5

May 2258

Lou Welch exhaled a long, laboured sigh. He was bored, in fact beyond bored if such a thing were possible. Customs duty was a mixed job and one that had to be manned at all times. With the number of ships B5 had each day there was usually always someone walking back and forth through the docking bay, and usually one of them was incredibly stupid.

The stupid ones made the job worth while, and also quite entertaining. There was always one who thought he could smuggle a gun through the blatantly obvious weapon detectors just by wrapping it in a suitcase, or bring in drugs secreted in places that didn't really need to enter his mind. They were easily caught and dealt with, not exactly modern day Moriarty clones, the real issue was the ones who found other ways to move in their illegal merchandise and that kept Lou busy on days when he wasn't stood like a balding and slightly over weight guard dog beside a door.

It was the graveyard shift with exactly three ships due in while he was stood out here playing tunes in his head. He'd missed all the fun the previous day when that Narn chick had beaten up some alien, Lou wasn't actually sure who or why, the Chief was keeping a lid on it. Normally Garibaldi was happy to bring Lou into things, they went back a long way and had trust, something the Chief was always cautious to give. If he was being tight lipped on the subject it was because the Commander had ordered an information lockdown.

That only made it more interesting, and of course the rumour mill had gone into overtime. Some said it was a member of the Minbari Grey Council or the daughter of the Centauri Emperor. Some said it was a lost Dilgar officer while others insisted it was Elvis come back for his next concert. Lou took it all with a pinch of salt, he'd get the straight story from the Chief eventually, he just had to be patient. Something he had plenty of opportunity to practice as he stared at the bulkhead, shifting his weight from leg to leg just to have something to do.

When the inner door opened it did take him a little by surprise, not that he would ever show it of course. He checked the clock, praying time had advanced to the point where his last ship had arrived, but that was still three hours away. Whatever this was it wasn't on the schedule.

A single man walked through the doorway, a human in a basic black suit carrying a briefcase who casually walked up to customs with a smile.

"Morning officer, quiet here isn't it?"

"You don't know the half of it." Lou unhooked his ID reader. "Which ship were you on?"

"Private transport, this is sort of a last minute stop. Real short notice." The man said.

"Right." Lou accepted, making a note to check with CiC when the man was gone. "Got your Identicard?"

The man provided it, a standard looking document showing his picture. It was a match, the grey haired man identical to the face on the card as Lou slotted it in the machine.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Bit of both." The man answered with a smile. "Never been here before, I fancy a look around."

"Well if I were you I'd avoid Brown Sector, we got a pick pocket gang down there that keeps getting away from us."

"Little rascals eh?" The man grinned.

"Yeah, rascals." Lou agreed. "Well, you check out." He handed back the card. "Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you officer, hope you don't have long until you can catch some rest."

Lou chuckled. "Just three hours, remember, watch Brown sector."

The man repeated his thanks and walked on, leaving Lou Welch to his quiet vigil. With the exception of the officer the customs area was empty, waiting rooms and chairs were deserted and the multiple displays stood idle, brightly advertising businesses and facilities across the station including an open air restaurant, the concept of which on a space station made the man smile.

He walked over to one of the screens and activated it.

"Computer, display a list of available guest quarters in Red Sector."

The image changed to show a reasonable amount of highlighted rooms displayed on a map of the sector. While Green sector had better facilities the man didn't want a suite, a basic room was more than enough. As his eyes scanned the display he saw a person reflected in it, someone stood behind him waiting for him to finish.

"Good morning." He said, making no comment about how well the figure had sneaked up on him. "Do you need a room too?"

"I'm covered." A female voice said. "So, welcome to the station."

He turned to see a uniformed woman waiting for him, fairly small but bundled with energy. She wore Earth Force blue and had her hair scraped back in a regulation pony tail.

"Or should I say welcome to my station."

"Your station?" the man said in mock surprise. "I thought a man called Sinclair ran it?"

"Well you see Commander Sinclair makes all the big decisions, he chairs all the negotiations, thwarts plots, occasionally runs through the corridors shooting guns at people. But he gets busy saving us all from imminent death and dismemberment, he doesn't have time to make sure the next batch of toilet paper got delivered, or the Gaim Ambassador has the right air mix in his quarters, or, I dunno, check the manifest of every ship coming in like an obsessive compulsive with nothing better to do with her time."

The woman smiled.

"That's my job, and therefore I run this station. Without me the Commander would be making decisions about a very cranky population, and I don't like that because only one person is allowed to be cranky on my station. Me."

"Well that educated me." The man said. "Now it's late and I…"

"You know what makes me cranky?" She cut him off. "Things happening that I don't know about. I hate that."

"I can imagine."

"Now I like surprises as much as the next girl, hell I love surprises, but only when I know they're going to happen."

"Isn't that a contradiction in…"

"I'm still talking."

The man hid a smile. "Okay."

"I like to be in control, I dunno, maybe it's a mania, you'd have to ask my string of ex boyfriends, but when things happen and I'm not in control… crankiness ensues. With me so far?"

"Enjoying the ride."

"So I'm having a normal day, doing my job, checking ship registers, asking Garibaldi if he's losing more hair, when someone walks onto my station without me knowing about it!"

"Who could that be?"

"I think you know exactly who it was." The Officer said simply. "Of all the people in the galaxy it was only Warmaster Jha'dur, the last Dilgar presumed dead thirty something years ago."

"Wow, what are the chances?"

"Incredible isn't it?" The officer said. "So guess what I did?"

"Got really cranky?"

"After that."

"I don't know."

"I checked every single ship register in paranoid detail, down to everything."

"Very thorough."

"And guess what I found?"

"I think I can."

"Not everyday we get an Assistant Directory of the EIA coming aboard, right Mr O'Leary?"

He smiled. "Well you got me, what gave it away?"

"I would guess your name, which you didn't change, your photo which you didn't change, you travelled on commercial charter flight, and you work for Universal Exports. Everyone knows that's a cover story for the EIA."

"Well that taught me another lesson." Francis grinned.

"If I didn't know better I'd guess you wanted to be found out, and that you wanted me to come here and meet you on the quiet in the middle of the night."

"Like a spy film."

"Bit clichéd."

"I like the classics."

"If I guess why you're here do I get a cookie?"

"Bit like playing pin the tail on the Donkey without a blindfold." Francis said. "I think you can guess."

"Dilgar Warmaster and senior EIA official within hours of each other." She made a show of rubbing her chin. "Coincidence? No, I'm going with deliberate."

"You would be right, on all counts."

"Of course I'm right, it's my station and nothing on here happens without me knowing about it. From now on. Mostly."

"Assistant Director Francis O'Leary." He offered his hand. "Chief of outer colony security."

"Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova, which I bet you already knew, cranky Russian."

She shook his hand.

"So you want to see the Commander?"

"Maybe later." Francis said. "Actually, I kind of want to avoid him."

Ivanova stared at him. "Why?"

"He's got enough to worry about without someone like me messing around on his station, this won't stay secret for long and the League are going to go mad when they find out about this prisoner."

"So why are you here?"

"I can't tell you that." Francis said. "Only that it comes straight from the President. I need to make contact with Jha'dur."

"In that case you'll have to see the Commander."

"Not necessarily." Francis said. "If I could convince someone else on the Command staff to open the door for me."

Ivanova gave him an icy glare.

"Not a chance."

"It's why I'm here Commander, and why I went to this trouble. I knew either you or Chief Garibaldi would spot me and make contact like this, quiet and informal. If this becomes official it will severely hinder Sinclair's negotiating position with the League when this goes public."

"I'm not going behind Jeff's back!"

"You don't have to, I'll talk to him when this is resolved. But not before. He's an honest man, he doesn't need to know that I am here and that Earth is going to deal with the prisoner."

"The Commander tells me a ship is coming to take her back to Earth."

"It is." Francis confirmed. "But there is no guarantee she'll get on it and go back."

"Oh great, so how do we get her off the station before the League take it apart bolt by bolt to get at Deathwalker?"

"That's why I'm here Commander, and why I need to speak with the prisoner."

Ivanova sighed.

"You swear you'll tell the Commander after?"

"Promise."

"Well it's not like it's a secret, you already know she's here." Ivanova admitted.

"I'm in charge of EIA operations out here, sort of my job to know these things." Francis flashed a smile.

"We already let G'Kar speak with her, I suppose there's nothing you can do that would be different."

"Exactly Commander."

"Alright, fine." Ivanova relented. "But if you don't clear this with Jeff later I'm going to stab you to death with your own rib bones, clear?"

"In a surprisingly vivid and stomach turning way."

"Well, good, now that's cleared up follow me."

He joined her as they found a lift and began their journey to the security cells.

"Nice place here." Francis said. "Glad it made it."

"Well you know, if at first you don't succeed." Ivanova shrugged. "Keep trying until the money runs out."

"I was lucky enough to look around Babylon 4 after they built it, just before they switched it on."

"Damn lucky, two minutes after it vanished faster than a Cenntauri in a monastry."

"Let's hope this one is here to stay."

"At least until I get some leave anyway." Ivanova said. "Here we are."

The lift doors opened into a blank corridor, a pair of armed guards standing either side of a door at the far end.

"I can give you four hours." She said as they stepped from the lift. "Do what you need before then."

"Fair enough." Francis nodded, and Ivanova entered her security details in the lock.

"Be careful." Ivanova said in warning. "I read a text book about her in high school and the Academy."

Francis grinned at her widely. "I know, I wrote it."

The door opened, and with a steadying breath to ease his nerves Francis went to meet the most evil figure in the galaxy.

His first impression was how normal she looked, sat behind a table, arms folded as if she were waiting for hi patiently, her pale blue eyes scrutinizing him in scientific detail.

"Curiouser and curiouser." She said in perfect English. "I wonder why Earth sent you?"

The door slid shut and locked behind him.

"Welcome to the Earth Alliance." Francis said in native Dilgar. "On behalf of the President."

"Stop." Jha'dur said firmly. "Do you know how long it has been since someone spoke that language around me?"

"At a guess, twenty six years."

"We will continue this conversation in English." She announced. "It is the language of human business after all, and human business is exactly what I am here to discuss." She relaxed at the table. "Sit."

Francis did as instructed.

"Well I know you aren't military." Jha'dur regarded him. "And you aren't a diplomat, you don't have that fake confidence, I can tell you are uneasy about being here."

Francis frowned at the accurate analysis, he thought he was doing a good job at hiding it. His reaction made Jha'dur smile more widely.

"You aren't a business man, that suit is nice but not tailored. You are EIA."

He nodded. "Correct."

"A wise choice, not a field agent I see, but also you are no stranger to difficult decisions. It's in your eyes."

"I've done my share of deeds for Earth in the past."

"Anyone I know?"

"Couple of Spectres."

Jha'dur nodded, displaying no anger. "Thought as much. In person?"

"With help, but yeah, I've pulled the trigger a couple of times."

"The man I sent to Earth, before the war."

Francis tensed at the recollection, his first taste of a true life or death situation. "Yeah."

"His name was Dar'ro, just for the record."

"He fought well."

"I couldn't care less." Jha'dur smiled. "Times change."

"We received your request for a meeting, and your discovery."

"I expected so."

"We also know you've been talking to the Narn."

Jha'dur laughed. "Little healthy competition so your President would treat this matter with the attention it deserves." She leaned forward. "I don't accept second place, I want to be the number one priority for Earth Force, now I am."

"We have a Warship heading this way to escort you to one of the colonies, for security reasons we can't take you to Earth directly."

"Logical." She nodded. "Wouldn't do to have a League vengeance fleet on your doorstep just yet."

She poured herself a drink of water.

"I miss brivari." She said then took a drink. "So, about getting fobbed off with second best, why aren't you the director of the EIA?"

"I'm in charge of the outer colonies, including Babylon 5."

"Not what I asked."

"I was considered the best man for the job."

"Because you had experience with us in the war?"

"Yes."

"Enough to know my language?"

"Yes."

"And have detailed files on the Dilgar high command, including me, so you would know I was who I claimed to be?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Good. So who are you?"

"Francis O'Leary."

"That tells me nothing."

"I was part of the Code breaking team in the war, I led the Enigma section which was primarily responsible for cracking your communications during the war."

Jha'dur went very, very quiet for a long few moments.

"Code breaker?"

"From just before the war, yes."

"And you saw some service in the field?"

"I joined the fleet a few times, I was stranded on Balos…"

She slammed her hands on the desk.

"You!" she declared triumphantly. "I know you! I know who you are!"

"Well I…"

"I ordered your capture twice! You were a celebrity Mr O'Leary, my Intelligence section built a shrine to you!"

"Really?" He asked in surprise.

"No, not really, but they were very impressed with your work."

"I just did what I could for my people."

"Indeed." She said more calmly. "So you can of course prove it?"

"Prove what?"

"Your identity."

"I have my pass and…"

"Come come Mr O'Leary, you know better than that."

With a nod he picked up his briefcase and opened it on the desk.

"The Black Box." He produced a small computer. "I used that to break your codes."

"Interesting."

"The Balosian Campaign medal." He produced an ornament. "Presented to all those who fought on or above the planet, second only to the Battle of the Line medal in terms of honour and prestige."

"Not bad, but not convincing."

"Try this." Francis took another item out. "You might recognize it."

On the table he placed a handgun, an ornate particle weapon that Jha'dur did indeed recognize.

"Where did you get this?"

"I took it from the bridge of a prototype Battlecruiser, from it's Captain."

She reached out and touched the weapon, running her fingers over it. She expected to sense something, to feel like the past was alive and real, to trigger some deep set emotion.

She didn't feel even a flicker.

"It belonged to Battlemaster Dal'shan, eldest son of the Supreme Warmaster. A man I ordered to capture you."

"He nearly did."

"You killed him?"

"No, but I was there."

Jha'dur nodded. "Dal'shan was… we were close."

"He did die well, for what it is worth."

"Doesn't matter." She said flatly. "That is a chapter that is long since closed. But it does at least add credibility to your story."

He took the gun back from beneath her fingers, and she curled her hand back up into a fist as it left her touch.

"Incidentally, how did you get that past security?"

"I'm with the EIA." Francis replied with a grin. "We've got really good briefcases."

"That proves who you are then." Jha'dur stated. "I suppose you want me to prove who I am?"

"It was on my mind." Francis nodded. "You knew about the Spectre on Earth, no one outside a dozen members of the EIA knew the truth about that, except the person who sent him."

"You can ask me anything, but before we go any further I have a condition."

"A condition?"

"If you want me to go to Earth, you must do me a favour."

"What kind of favour?" Francis asked with apprehension.

"Relax." Jha'dur chuckled. "Nothing that will hurt, just an indulgence on my part."

"What do you want?"

"Quite a question." Jha'dur leaned back. "What do I want?"

"I don't have much with me right now, I understand you made some requests for your new home which we have complied with."

"I want many things, but from you Mr O'Leary all I want is information."

"What kind of information?"

She smiled. "And Brivari."

He opened his briefcase again. "We got that request too."

He produced a bottle of the red alcohol and placed it on the table.

"How delightful." She smiled. "I drink to celebrate, to enjoy a moment. I think this counts."

"Most people drink to forget."

"I'm happy with my memory." She responded. "At least I do not fear it."

"I'd imagine you had a lot of demons in your past."

"You make your own demons, and they only have power if you regret what you did. I regret nothing, not anymore anyway. Not since I saw what became of my world."

"So you visited Omelos." Francis stated, building a mental picture of her movements.

"What was left of it." Jha'dur confirmed. "The air is still breathable you know, stale, but still there. No life now of course, but the cities are still there."

She looked at the glass of water on the table.

"It looked much the same, tower blocks, fortresses, roads and vehicles still parked on them. There was a flag flying over the capital building and a breeze in the air. But no life, no plants or animals, nothing."

Her eyes closed.

"Just bodies on every street corner."

Francis forced away the grim image, and didn't bother mentioning that he had seen cities on Balos in exactly the same state caused by Dilgar bioweapons. Poetic Justice.

"The Minbari harboured you all this time?" he asked.

"Most of it, the Windswords weren't the best hosts, fortunately they were ridiculously easy to manipulate into doing what I wanted."

"Why did they let you go after so long, even knowing the political fall out?"

"They didn't let me do anything." Jha'dur smiled. "I was ready to leave and so I did. They failed to prevent it."

"How did you escape?"

"A story for another time." She poured away the water and replaced it with Brivari.

"Have to hand it to the Centauri, they make a good drink."

"How long were you on Minbar?"

"Technically it was one of their colonies." Jha'dur corrected. "I don't think they wanted someone like me on their homeworld. Perhaps they thought the sky would fall."

"Were you there during the war?"

"I was." She confirmed. "And I was informed of many things by the elders of the Warrior caste."

"If your records are correct, you should have full psychological profiles on them."

"I do." She nodded in amusement. "I'm sure Earth Force would be interested in my assessment of them. I met several members of the Grey Council too, seems I was an attraction."

"You arrived on a Minbari ship."

"I bet Earth Force wants to look at that too." She chuckled quietly. "It has a jammer you know, one of those devices that gave you so much trouble in the war. I expect that would be worth as much to your people as my other gifts."

"I expect then you have a lot of inside knowledge of the Minbari at war, their strategies, logistical abilities, home defences?"

"Yes, but much more than that. I know how they think, what they value and what they fear. I know what they want Mr O'Leary, I know why they fight. What do you think to that?"

"I think, that if you can give us that sort of an insight into the Minbari psyche and their society, then it will give us an advantage in dealing with them in the future."

Jha'dur beamed a smile. "Why is that?"

"Because to understand ones enemy is to beat him before you even fight."

"And that Mr O'Leary is why I am not giving the Narn my secret. Earth understands, humanity appreciates the value of things in the same way I do. The Minbari wasted me, they had access to my talents and knowledge and sunned them. Most never even understood that most basic of concepts that you just repeated even when offered to them on a plate."

She took a drink of the red liquid.

"I heard Delenn is Ambassador here, how is she?"

"Away on business I heard."

"Pity, it's been a long while since we talked. I was going to ask how her father was."

She smiled very, very coldly, her eyes sharp as razor blades.

"I could tell you things about her Mr O'Leary, but that's for another time also, we must press on."

"We have several hours before the ship arrives." Francis said.

"Good, but first one question, for my curiosity."

Francis nodded. "Go on."

"Why Babylon 5?"

Francis cocked his head. "The name?"

"You had a Babylon station and it blew up." The Warmaster stated. "Most people would have considered that omen but you built another, and another, and so on."

"We don't like to give up." Francis said.

"I had noticed." Jha'dur remarked in mild amusement. "That most constant of human attributes, stubborness."

"There was a story in my home nation about building a castle on a swamp. Five times. Until it stops sinking."

"How appropriate. It seems then that this place is no longer sinking."

"I think it will last for a good few years yet." He nodded.

"Last best hope for peace." Jha'dur remarked. "I always found a Mass Driver my best hope."

"A good Plan B." Francis didn't quite comprehend he was sharing small talk with one of the most heinous criminals in history. It was so surreal it didn't register.

"What do you think about this Mr O'Leary?" Jha'dur asked suddenly.

"About what?"

"About this situation, about me going to Earth."

"I think the President gave me a job to do."

"That's all?"

"No more, no less."

"It doesn't bother you that I will never stand trial?"

"Not my choice to make."

"It does bother you." She nodded. "I see it in your eyes."

He looked up at her. "I saw first hand what you did to worlds you occupied, and the people who lived on them."

"You think I should be punished for that?"

"I think you should."

"No shame in having that opinion." She stated. "Even the most pragmatic of us are sometimes afflicted by a conscience."

"I know why you decided to come to Babylon 5." Francis said.

"Enlighten me."

"It's public. If you simply met a human ship in hyperspace maybe you'd have run into one of those pragmatic people without a conscience. I've certainly worked with a few in my time."

"And you think by coming in here I am drawing insurance."

"it means you don't run the risk of someone simply stealing your secrets, shooting you in the head, then pushing you out of an airlock. Whole galaxy thinks you're dead, who's to say otherwise?"

"Even if they knew I expect their only complaint would be they didn't do it first." She laughed grimly. "But very astute Mr O'Leary. But one other reason."

"That is?"

"I like the attention." She grinned. "It's been a long while."

"You should still pay for what you did."

"I'm sure I will." She dismissed. "You didn't ask if my serum was genuine."

"You are sat here in front of me looking identical to your file photo from thirty years ago." Francis said. "That's proof enough for me."

"Very well."

"I have a question." He raised.

"Go on."

"You spelled out whatEarth gets from this deal, but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you get?"

She smiled. "I get a legacy."

"That's it?"

"For me, it's more than enough." She said simply, not deigning to explain the extent of her legacy. "I was always an idealist."

"There is nothing about you that looks like an idealist." Francis countered.

"You haven't looked closely enough." She said back. "Everything I did was for an ideal, a dream I had for my people. A safe and peaceful future."

"You can't build an Empire of peace on a foundation of genocide."

"You did." She stated. "Shall I list the examples?"

"I don't think that's necessary."

"I tried to give the Dilgar something better. They are gone now, and humanity is the closest thing I have left to a people." She laughed. "I assure you, I find the concept as horrifying as you do. But there it is."

"It sounds like, ultimately, it will do a lot of good."

"Probably." She accepted. "Earth turned the tide of the war, they fought better than we did, the only race that can claim that. You earned this, a step up over everyone else on the ladder to the future. I can put Earth at the top of the galaxy, and I will. On one condition."

"And that is?"

"I need a favour from you Mr O'Leary."

"Go on."

"How did the war end?"

"The Dilgar war?" he frowned.

"You were there, an EIA agent. You had access to all the details, now I want to know them."

"We haven't got much time left."

"Then you better start talking fast."

"Surely this is better suited to afterwards?"

"This is my condition, it is non negotiable." Jha'dur flatly stated. "My race lost the war, after Balos I knew it was inevitable. But I want to know what happened. I was not there Mr O'Leary, I did not see the last moments of the Imperium, I could not touch the final flutter of the Imperial flag. You could, you were there, you saw how the last of the Warmasters died. You saw it all."

She gave him a long, serious look.

"How did the war end?"

Francis had no choice, with a sigh he gave in.

"Very well, I assume you know all that happened up to the Liberation of Balos."

"Go on from there." She nodded.

"It would have been late September by the human calendar…"


	96. Chapter 96

94

Geneva

Earth

People were celebrating, crowding out of bars and falling onto streets. It was like the best cup final combined with a rock concert combined with New Years Eve. Voices were raised in joy, alcohol was flowing, parties were in full swing across the globe and on a dozen colonies. It wasn't just Earth space either, on the free worlds of the League similar celebrations were occurring, each world marking news of the great victory in it's own way. What all of them had in common though was the joy and relief that Balos had been freed and the enemy fleet was gone. All the tension and anxiety that had built up was gone now, released in a swell of pure joyful celebration.

"Heavens sake." General Denisov turned off the images of partying. "Anyone would think we just won the war."

"We broke their main fleet, wiped it out to the last ship." Harry Brogan parted his hands. "What else have we got to do?"

Denisov returned to his seat in front of the Presidential desk, EIA Director Durban reading a set of notes beside him while President Hauser listened to the discussion.

"Plenty." The General replied. "I don't have to remind you gentlemen that the Dilgar still represent a major threat to peace and security, and still have the means and will to inflict massive casualties on the League."

"Those missiles." Hauser recalled. "What's the situation with them?"

"We bought herself some time at Balos." Denisov said. "Without a fleet of that size the Dilgar can't escort their missile ships to their primary targets, the Allied Homeworlds. Doesn't matter how good those weapons are, if they can't bring them into range they're useless."

"I still don't like the idea of the Dilgar having them."

"No sir, and they are still a major threat." Denisov agreed. "They can't be fired on our planets but can still be used against our invasions fleets. I don't have to tell you what devices like that would do to our warships."

"So the destruction of these weapons is still our priority?" Brogan asked.

"Now that the Dilgar Grand Fleet is scrap it's the next major job for our forces." Denisov confirmed. "Admiral Hamato is assembling a combat group to move out rapidly as soon as we confirm the location of the missile facility."

"What about your side Karl?" The President asked. "Where are they?"

"We found what might be a lead last night." The EIA Director stated, looking up from the latest field reports. "A member of my team named Agent Laney back tracked a Dilgar paper trail looking for clues. It was the culmination of a much larger attempt to completely download the entire Dilgar military database, something which regrettably seems beyond us at this point."

"Where did this trail lead?" Denisov asked.

"We came up with a few anomalies." Durban reported. "At first we were looking at deployment rosters, but they didn't tell us much. We guessed the orders and supplies for this facility would be handled offline, all done by paper couriers and word of mouth with nothing committed to a computer system. Harder to organise, but the Dilgar have a reputation for organising extremely complex operations with maximum efficiency. This facility is so secret there's no mention of it anywhere, not even a code name. So we came at it from a different angle."

He passed out a report to each of the men, Brogan last.

"The facility needs certain things, power, food, resources, spare parts, advanced technology systems. All of this was moved under the radar with no record, impossible to trace. But it needed something else too. People."

He folded the notes over.

"On page two you'll see a list of names, Dilgar scientists who were considered leaders in their field. Some of those names tutored Jha'dur in her early years."

"We should thank them for that." Denisov snickered. "A fifty megaton thank you note."

"Except they're all dead." Hauser pointed out. "Killed in battle, or accidents, natural causes. No pattern."

"If you look at the next page you'll see another list, more scientists." Durban said. "An identical number, and more interestingly they are specialists in exactly the same fields as the ones who died a page ago."

"Replacements?" Hauser asked.

"Not quite. Heather, that's Agent Laney, checked their records. They weren't created on the day they were born, though they were doctored to look that way. They were created on the same day as the scientist before them died."

The others flicked back and forth and checked the dates.

"You see a leading professor of bio sciences died in June two years ago, and on the same day a completely unknown bio scientist just emerges from nowhere."

Denisov grinned. "They faked their deaths?"

"They faked their deaths." Durban agreed. "These are very noted scientists, if all of them transferred to a secret facility it would send up warnings to any intelligence agency with a clue what it was doing. That much brain power in one place is never good. Yet a bunch of unknowns gets sent to the same spot, it's a low priority, it goes unnoticed."

"So the Dilgar made these top scientists disappear." President Hauser mused. "Made new identities for them, then what?"

"One at a time they were transferred, sent to a research colony." Durban said. "All ending up in the same place."

"The missile facility." Denisov guessed.

"That is our guess." Durban confirmed. "We're almost positive it's our target."

"Where is it?"

"That's the sticky part." Durban winced. "The Dilgar put it out of the way, a small ice moon that wouldn't draw attention, universally ignored by friend and foe alike. It's set up as a small weather research facility but receives a lot more supplies than a base of its size needs. We believe the missile facility is hidden beneath the weather station, along with all these scientists."

"So where is the moon?" Asked Brogan.

"Orbiting the sixth planet of the Omelos star system."

Denisov whistled quietly while Brogan just scoffed.

"Might as well be on the far side of the universe!" The Secretary of State dismissed. "Omelos is a fortress!"

"The planet is, yes, but this moon is well outside their reaction range." Durban answered. "Plus the Dilgar have no major fleet assets stationed there, Jha'dur brought the Home Fleet with her to Balos. It never left."

"There is still Dar'sen." Hauser reminded.

"True, but he's still at Tithalis, one jump away from home." Denisov stepped in. "Too far to react to a surprise attack."

"We expect the Moon to be defended with ground batteries." Durban continued. "But no orbital platforms or satellite network. Stealth was this facilities best defence, being ignored by the enemy. Giving it a defence grid would draw in too much attention."

"What is the plan?" Asked Hauser.

"We strike the facility with a fast Battlecruiser force." Denisov took over. "Burn through the ice and deploy strategic Nuclear weapons against the buildings themselves."

"Earth Force has made available four prototype missiles." Durban said. "Multi Gigaton bunker busters designed to level deeply buried command emplacements by triggering a major Earth Quake."

"About an Eight point five on the Richter scale." Denisov said. "Enough to kill a major underground city, assuming the fireball didn't."

"We've never tried them in anything more than a computer simulation." Denisov said. "Most of the Joint Chiefs want the project cancelled in favour of adopting Mass Drivers, though after this war…"

"Mass Drivers will have a reputation as weapons of genocide." Hauser recognised. "But so will extremely high yield nukes."

"It might be hard to replace these devices Mr President in the current political climate, but if we are going to use them this is the target."

"Very well General, I'll release these weapons for use." Hauser agreed. "I would not have liked to use them on Omelos to tell the truth. Too much like Dilgar tactics."

"Beware ye who fight monsters, less ye become monsters yourselves." Durban recited. "We don't need to stoop to the same level as the Dilgar, we can finish this war and keep our hands clean."

Brogan cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room.

"Something I don't think anyone has asked themselves about this mission." He said, his voice calm and smooth. "Why?"

"Why?" Durban glared at him. "Why what?"

"Why are we trying to destroy this facility?"

General Denisov made an effort not to tut.

"Because I don't want to see my ships immolated in a nuclear fireball by weapons that will shrug off our defensive gunfire."

"You misunderstand me." Brogan corrected. "I know why the Dilgar can't have it, but why should we have to nuke it? Why don't we land an assault force and take it for ourselves?"

"Are you seriously suggesting we put troops on that moon?" Durban said uneasily. "Right in the middle of the enemy heartland?"

"Why not? They're fleet is a shambles, all we need to do is send the whole fleet and not just a raid."

"It's too soon, we'll need another week or two to recover from Balos." Denisov shook his head.

"So postpone for a week." Brogan shrugged. "Those missiles aren't going anywhere."

"And risk the Dilgar arming the defence grid with those things?" Durban huffed. "No way, we have to hit them immediately."

"Karl's right, we can't drag our feet on this." Denisov answered.

"I appreciate the cautious approach." Brogan stated. "But we can't overlook this opportunity."

"Opportunity?" Durban barked. "You want those missiles don't you?"

"I want the ability to make more of them actually." Brogan answered. "And that facility is the one place in the galaxy that can do it. If it gets nuked, we'll never be able to reproduce those devices."

"We don't need to." Denisov retorted. "Earth Force has no need of a weapon capable of wiping out planets."

"Not right now, but who knows what we might need in the future."

"Are you saying you could see a time when Earth would want to wipe out whole words?" Denisov asked, incredulous. "When the human race would enact genocide on billions of innocent people?"

Brogan shook his head. "We fought this war conventionally and we won, or at least as good as. But look what happened to the League, they were outclassed, out fought and came within a hairs breadth of getting exterminated. We got off pretty easy in this war, but next time we might be in the place of the League. What happens if we have to fight the Centauri, honestly general?"

Denisov sighed. "It's unlikely we would win. Best case scenario we make them bleed so bad they settle for several colonies. Victory would be out of the question."

"But with these weapons we can win!" Brogan spoke passionately. "We can become the number one power in this galaxy! Just think about it for a moment, right now we are adored by the League and respected by everyone else but that won't last. We might have to back our position up one day, and if we have this sort of firepower no one, not a soul is going to dare get in our way."

"Dammit Brogan you're starting to sound like a Warmaster!" Durban spat. "You're talking about scaring the galaxy into supporting us! Using these weapons to intimidate and threaten them into towing the line with extermination the punishment if they don't!"

"It won't go that far, it's just a guarantee." Brogan dismissed. "And it's more than missiles, it's a whole new era of technology. Each individual part of those missiles could give us an edge, the propulsion, the warhead, the armour. All of those systems can be observed, studied, adapted. Imagine our ships armed with this technology? They would be unstoppable!"

"This is getting insane." Denisov grunted. "It's a pipe dream! These weapons have no place in the Earth Force arsenal. We're soldiers, not monsters."

"We might not have the luxury of fighting honourably in the future General." Brogan warned. "I know there are Generals who agree with me, that no price is too high to safeguard Earth."

"Are these the same Generals who allowed teams to recover Dilgar bioweapons?" Durban asked carefully. "Who took cybernetic devices from labs on Balos before the wrecks in orbit had even cooled down?"

"I don't know anything about that." Brogan replied.

"Of course you don't." Durban smiled thinly. "But it happened, and I will find out who is stealing illegal technology from battlefields. You can count on it."

"That is something for later." Hauser cut in. "I'm not going to risk the Dilgar activating these missiles and defeating our final attack."

"Mr President, these weapons exist, they can't be un-invented." Brogan pleaded. "You can bet everyone will try to copy them, races more advanced than us. We won't catch up in time, if someone has this weapon first it should be us!"

"And make ourselves a target for a pre-emptive strike?" Denisov said. "These weapons, all trace of them, everything, it should all be destroyed."

"You are too short sighted General!"

"If the future involves humanity killing hundreds of billions then I don't want to see it." He replied harshly. "We are fighting a war to prevent that, losing tens of thousands of good lives to stop that sort of terror. We won't become what we are trying to destroy."

"The matter is settled." Hauser decided. "We don't need these weapons. We'll keep them out of Dilgar hands, and anyone else's for that matter. Nuke it."

"Orders accepted Mr President."

"We will however expand our research on captured technologies, focus on improving our fighting ships rather than our ability to wipe out whole species in a single volley." Hauser said. "Earth will not fall behind our new allies or our potential opponents, but there are some weapons that no one is meant to have."

"Very well Mr President." Brogan said, with no intention of accepting such an order. "On that note we have made progress examining Dilgar weapons and armour from the new err… Sekhmet class I believe. Gave us some new directions to follow in terms of armour and pulse weaponry."

"What about artificial gravity?" Hauser asked.

"That's a bit more complicated, an entirely new field of physics." Brogan admitted. "It's going to take time, a lot of time."

"Hopefully there will be no rush." The President said. "We earned a break after this war."

"That we have sir." Denisov nodded.

"Did we get a confirmation on Jha'dur?"

"The Dilgar News service tells us she returned home after inflicted heavy losses on us." Durban informed. "The images they showed on the news were very pretty, but faked. Our signals people tore it apart in about fifteen minutes. No one left Balos during that last battle, every single ship fought to the death, including the flagship."

"We found the wreck drifting beyond lunar orbit." Denisov took over. "Joe Tennant hit it harder than we first thought, it was sliced to ribbons."

"Survivors?"

"None." Denisov confirmed. "The state it was in, nothing could have lived through that."

"How about life pods?" Hauser continued questioning.

"Dilgar ships don't have any." He answered. "Jha'dur is pragmatic enough to run if she could, she doesn't really follow the death or glory routine, but no one got off that ship."

"We're bringing it home and giving the whole thing a DNA scan." Durban reported. "Lets just say the inside of the ship wasn't the prettiest sight the boarding teams had seen. But it looks like we got her. Jha'dur is dead."

"That's gonna cheer up the League no end." Brogan chuckled. "Ding dong the witch is gone."

"Let's not break into song just yet, not until we find a DNA sample." Durban cautioned. "But we do know she didn't make it home, and no hostile ships left the system. Nowhere else for her to be."

"About time, she was far too dangerous to leave alive." Denisov related. "As a military leader I'd respect her, she had an excellent grasp of strategy and fought like nobody else in history. She would have been a legend if she had confined herself to fleet battles. But as a person, after seeing all the other things she did, the torture and genocide… no, even with such talent she deserved much worse than she got."

"Hell is a fouler place for her presence." Durban said solemnly. "But we aren't finished yet, we still have Dar'sen to contend with."

"Now he at least is worthy of genuine respect." Denisov spoke. "There's no record of his forces committing genocide or attacking civilian targets deliberately."

"Even the Drazi commander praises him." Durban added. "Which says a lot."

"Isn't he the officer we were considering as a post war leader?" Hauser raised.

"He is yes sir, if he survives the war." Denisov confirmed. "Though given his traditionalist stance he's more likely to commit suicide than surrender, which would be a shame."

"Have the Dilgar made any contact after losing Jha'dur's fleet?" Hauser asked. "Any indication that they are wiling to surrender?"

"No, nothing yet. But given the fact Jha'dur was acting as a de facto Empress ruling by decree it's probably going to be a while until someone fills the power vacuum she left." Durban informed. "We're hoping for Dar'sen, but there are a lot of hard liners who could take over, a lot of Jha'dur loyalists who will carry on the war to the death regardless of the odds."

"We are in the stronger position now." Brogan asserted. "We wavered for a bit last month, but we came through. The only thing we should accept at this point is an unconditional surrender and an occupation of the Omelos system."

"You still want to put troops on that moon don't you?" Durban accused.

"Better than letting anyone else on it."

"Motives aside, I have to agree." Hauser set his position out. "Unconditional surrender, and I know the League will agree to this. Afterwards we need to restore a new government and try to bring them democracy."

"That's like teaching a horse to shoot pool Mr President." Brogan scoffed. "Leopard doesn't change its spots. And for Dilgar that's a literal truth. Some of them have spots."

"We have to try." Hauser affirmed. "The other option is just to leave them to the League, a choice that will end in genocide."

"Even Ambassador Itala of the Abbai wanted to see them dead." Durban said coolly. "Took me a little by surprise, though her aide Kalika was more level headed. I'd expect the Abbai government as a whole to support our stance."

"Which is very important." Denisov stated. "They are one jump from Omelos and we need a firm ally nearby to run supplies through to help rebuild out there."

"Raised a lot of passions this war, lot of blood spilled." Hauser nodded slowly, appreciating the depth of feeling his allies must have experienced. "But this administration, this civilisation, will not stand by and allow genocide. We said that on the first day of the war, and I will say it again on the last."

"We estimate Dar'sen has fifteen hundred ships at his command." Durban said. "With a further five or six hundred ships on garrison duty over occupied worlds. Dar'sen's group will be veteran crews and veteran ships, the rest little more than cannon fodder."

"General, what about our forces?" Hauser asked. "Where do we stand after Balos?"

Denisov narrowed his eyes a little, it was the same look he had when he had delivered news of the defeats earlier in the war.

"We carried the day Mr President, but at tremendous loss."

Hauser prepared for the worst. "What sort of casualties?"

"As of this morning we have approximately twenty percent of our fleet combat capable."

"Twenty percent?" Hauser exclaimed. "What happened to the rest?"

"In terms of vessels actually destroyed the figure is relatively low." Denisov said. "Our ships were built to last, but they still take hits and they can still be put out of action. The ships at Balos fought until they couldn't fight anymore, they blew power couplings, shorted out relays, melted their guns into their turrets and turned their engines into hollow tubes. Those ships were pushed beyond breaking point, they survived the battle but won't see action again before next year, if ever."

"We also have the crews too Mr President, the campaign exhausted them." Durban informed. "Combat fatigue coupled with long term effects of zero gravity operations means we have to stand them down, at least for a few weeks or a month. They need time to recover and rest."

"All totalled, between dead, wounded and exhausted it makes Eighty percent of our fleet put out of action sir." Denisov stated officially.

"It doesn't leave us enough to take Omelos does it?"

"No sir, but fortunately we don't need to take it yet." Denisov stated. "As you recal our ship yards were just finishing a fresh batch of warships. We couldn't postpone the assault on Balos to wait for them, but these new builds will be available to take Omelos."

"By the time they reach the front our veteran crews should be fit and able again Mr President." Durban took over. "If we put our experienced crews on fresh ships it'll bring us back up to maximum effectiveness, make our fleet stronger than the one Admiral Hamato took into Balos in the first place."

"We should be ready before the end of the month." Denisov said. "With a projected date of mid October for the Assault on Omelos."

"October." Hauser repeated, turning the word ove rin his mind. "Can we do it?"

"Balos drained our strategic fuel reserves to the limit." Denisov said. "But we have enough for two months campaigning and one more major battle. We can get our ships there and get them in action."

"And end the war." Hauser stated.

"If all goes to plan, yes sir."

"We have more good news Mr President." Durban said. "We just had reports from the Delphi and Cassandra, a pair of scout ships sent to Recce the situation in the occupied sectors."

"What did they find?"

"Dilgar forces in the Abbai and Hyach sectors are spread incredibly thin." The EIA head reported. "The Dilgar seem to be concentrating their garrisons at Alaca and Tirrith to protect their remaining industry."

"Even better than that we found both Abbai and Hyach military forces have built up considerable strength during the sieges." Denisov stated. "Especially the Hyach, they could have broken out months ago."

"Why didn't they?"

"Intimidation." Durban answered. "The Dilgar launched spoiling attacks and left decoys across their system, made it look like there were a lot more ships in system than there really were."

"We should be able to liberate both planets very quickly, a little show of force and it will encourage the local guard fleets to break orbit and join us." The General said. "We can handle it with a couple of task forces Mr President, they are already on their way now."

"Once they break through we have the word of Ambassador Itala that the Abbai Navy will join us under Hamato's command." Durban relayed. "We can expect a similar response from the Hyach, significantly boosting our fleet strength."

"Those Hyach dreadnoughts are murder in open battle." Denisov said with a hint of cold glee. "They pack a spinal laser cannon three or four times more powerful than anything else out there, long ranged and accurate too. They'll make picking off the Omelos defence grid a lot easier. Reduce casualties a hell of a lot."

"Pity they won't share this technology with the race that saved them from extermination." Brogan huffed.

"We've gone over this before, the contracts in League space more than make up for their reluctance." Durban countered. "With those profits we can advance our own sciences."

"The decision is made on that subject." Hauser overruled. "Now, any other matters?"

"Not at this time Mr President."

"How long until our forces reach the Hyach homeworld?"

"About ten hours sir." Denisov replied.

"Then we'll talk again in twelve. Dismiss gentlemen, and good fortune to our attack fleets."

Balosian System

The shuttle rattled skyward, its structure shaking and vibrating as the engines pushed one way and air resistance pushed another. The passengers were tightly strapped in and rode out the buffeting, remaining silent as the thudding and shaking of the small craft would have drowned out anything their voices could offer in competition. Eventually the rattling subsided, the view outside turning from a rich blue to a shade almost white, and then darkening to blackness scattered wit points of distant light. The engines cut out as gravity released the shuttle from its grasp and the grey vehicle coasted serenely and efficiently towards an assortment of much larger metallic objects in the distance.

"Rough ride." Vic Chapel stated flatly. "Did we climb through a storm front or something?"

"You didn't hear this from me." David Sinclair leaned in beside him and dropped his voice. "But I think we just got some rookie pilots."

Vic chuckled. "You're the man to know."

"I've flown one of these crates once or twice." Sinclair nodded. "Very forgiving, and very hard to do something stupid with, but it takes a certain gentleness to get the best out of a spacecraft, even haulers like this."

"That old saying about treat your plane like you treat your lover?" Chapel raised an eyebrow. "That was just a bit creepy for us guys on the deck."

"You were a Gropo?"

"Assault Rangers. First to go, last to know." Chapel said proudly. "We treated our gear like me wife treated me, bang it around a bit, use it until it burns out, then throw it out the door."

"I'm going to take a guess and say your divorced then?" Sinclair prompted.

"Second best thing that ever happened to me."

"What was the first?"

Chapel grinned. "Meeting her in the first place."

"So you had some good times between the fights?"

"Yeah, some of the best." Chapel answered. "We never ran out of passion, it just got turned into something else. Real long story."

"They usually are." Sinclair agreed.

"How about you?"

"Wife and two kids." He involuntarily smiled.

"All well back home?"

"Good as anywhere." He nodded. "Couple of bumps on the road, but nothing serious. Just family life."

"I don't mind saying I envy you." Chapel related. "Psi Corps took my kid few years ago, haven't seen her since."

"Sorry to hear that." Sinclair offered with genuine sympathy. "I thought they still allowed contact?"

"Yeah, but not with me." Chapel admitted. "Psi Corps and me, we don't really get on."

"After that, I bet you don't."

"Few insults were exchanged, few punches. Little gunfire." Chapel shrugged. "Not very amicable, but I'm a patient man."

He let a coldness creep into his voice

"My time will come."

"I am sorry to hear about your family." The third person on the shuttle stated. "Forced division like that is never easy to live with, especially as a parent."

Opposite the two humans sat Ari'shan, former squadron leader of the Dilgar Imperial fleet, now a prisoner of the EIA, a very high value and important prisoner at that.

Chapel grunted, weighing up how to take that statement delivered as it was by a former enemy. He chose to accept it as genuine.

"We won't be separated forever, I'm going to make sure of it."

"I've never heard of anyone escaping the Corps and getting away with it." Sinclair frowned. "They come down hard on Telepaths that try to run."

"Doesn't mean it can't be done." Chapel responded. "Especially when you have certain connections in place."

Sinclair decided not to press the matter, from the brief snippets of information he had picked up from his colleagues on Balos he knew Chapel was well placed in the EIA and had the ability to be as ruthless and cold as any Warmaster. Jenny had joked that Vic Chapel had cut more throats than any human alive, Sinclair suspected she wasn't exaggerating.

The military didn't usually mix with the EIA, they were two separate organisations with very different roles. The EIA was more about detecting threats to Earth and working behind the scenes to stop them. Most of the EIA work never went beyond their offices, finding out information and feeding it to law enforcement bodies or sometimes the Military. There was however one branch of the EIA that operated in the field and tended to be shrouded in myth and popular preconceptions. Most Field Agents looked nothing like the super spies of film and fiction, short, ugly, unremarkable, they were chosen to blend in, to observe and set up networks to traffic information. They were perfectly ordinary in every respect, shop keepers, neighbours and Taxi Drivers like anyone else. That was what made them so effective at their job.

A very small percentage however did fill the traditional stereotype of the secret agent, the people who were sent in when the application of a little force was needed or when the risks were too great for a more traditional agent. Jenny Sakai was regarded as the best n this generation, with Chapel and Director Durban being the stars of the previous two decades. Of the two Chapel was more into the solving of problems with a dagger and a pack of plastic explosive while Durban was a master of deception and misinformation. All three were born survivors, utterly devoted and unshakeable, willing to do anything to anyone for the safety of their world.

Sinclair respected that, and was more than a little unnerved by it. He'd risk his life for heart and home, he had done so frequently, but some of the stories and rumours he had heard about EIA agents, some of the things they did and absolutely terrifying situations they willingly threw themselves into, that took a particular breed of person. Either a hero beyond compare or a sociopath with no conscience, Sinclair wasn't sure which.

The Military had its own intelligence groups dedicated to seeking information on enemies and they worked with the EIA analysts to build up a picture of an opponent, and Sinclair knew full well that most of the elite EIA Field agents had come from the military, but he still felt nervous around someone like Chapel. The man had an aura, a projection of cold intent that announced very clearly that if this man said he was going to do something no matter the cost then you could bet he would. Sinclair had over two hundred fighter kills, a sobering figure when he stopped to think about it. He knew without asking Chapel had a lot more.

"Don't suppose you're married are you?" Chapel asked Ari'shan. "You guys even have that?"

"Something similar." He nodded. "But I never found much time for it."

"Always time for it." Sinclair said.

"You can take my Ex." Chapel grimaced. "She'd fit right in with that sadistic bunch on Omelos."

"I don't think I've stopped since the war began, with training and fighting and exercising, the time just seemed to evaporate."

"Plenty of time to stop and rest now." Sinclair said in a relaxed tone.

"Not much chance of grabbing a girl though." Chapel added with a grin.

The shuttle fired a few brief bursts on its retro thrusters, slowing it slightly and adjusting course.

"Where do I go from here?" the pilot asked.

"You'll be detained in a secure facility." Chapel said. "Comfortable but hidden away on one of the colonies."

"I assure you I have given my parole." Ari stated. "I will not try and escape."

"If you say so." Chapel replied with no real care one way or another. "But public opinion isn't too hot on the Dilgar right now. If people knew where you were staying… well it might be pitchforks and flaming torches at midnight."

"I do not understand?"

"They'd come to try and kill you." Sinclair clarified. "The Dilgar have wound up a lot of people with their actions. Even if you weren't involved you'd still be blamed."

He looked down. "It is inevitable I suppose, reap what you sow don't they say?"

"I don't think you'll be able to appear in public for a long, long time yet. None of you." Chapel stated. "A Dilgar shows up anywhere, it ain't going to be pretty. Lot of passions running high."

"It is the fate we have outlined for ourselves, we tried to dominate and instead we will vanish."

"Earth has made a commitment to help Omelos rebuild and change, to adopt a new form of government and disband the traditions that pushed you into genocide."

"The idea appeals to me, but it will be difficult to implement it."

"Surely not all Dilgar are bloodthirsty warmongers?" Chapel raised. "You aren't."

"It was never in my character, or really in my brothers though they did sometimes show a willingness to do unsavoury things for the success of their race." Ari admitted. "They never ordered a slaughter, but never stopped one either."

"You think that is the situation on your world? That people dislike this war but are too scared to stand up?" Chapel asked.

"I wish it was that simple, but no, it isn't." Ari said. "My world has faced this moment for generations, the planning for this invasion, this great war, it has been decades if not centuries in the making."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Omelos is dying, it has been since the end of the war of unification. We managed to nuke a large portion of our land mass, set up a steady timebomb of radioactivity seeping through our world. Our natural resources are depleted, pollution is overpowering, and the worlds around us that we colonised were useless rocks, all the best worlds were already claimed. The plan was to take those bountiful worlds from the League, and to keep them."

"Every day," Ari stated. "Every single day I was told that time is running out for our species, that we must expand or die. It was drummed into me and every other Dilgar that our destiny had to be seized, and that force was the only way."

He shook his head.

"This was fed to us for generations, everywhere you turned, every image you saw was designed to create this mind set. We have whole generations with this goal, this need crammed into their minds for all their lives. It was in schools, in the media, broadcast, painted and glorified everywhere. It became your life, it became everyone's life. We were bred and conditioned for this war gentlemen, how do you deal with that?"

"There has to be some who weren't taken in by the campaign?" Sinclair questioned.

"Some, but most were. When this is taught to primary school children it becomes thei foundation of their entire life. It becomes who they are. We are a warrior race not simply by birth but by design. Our world was a boot camp, our teachers and media personalities drill instructors and our children fodder for the invasion. Even now, even when all is lost they aren't going to stop, they aren't going to give up. They will oppose you until they die and even if someone does surrender it will be generations before the taint of this militarism dies out."

"But one day it will die out." Chapel stated. "We've seen it on our world, it will happen on Omelos too."

"It will be a painful and bloody path."

"Probably, but the only other choice is extermination, and Earth isn't going to embrace that."

Ari nodded. "At one time maybe you would."

"Maybe, and I can tell you now there are some who want to see Omelos glassed from orbit to guarantee you will never be a threat again." Chapel confirmed. "But that's not the majority. We want to fix things for your people, show them a better productive future. You guys have potential, everyone has potential."

"You know Jha'dur respected humanity?" Ari said with a slight smile.

"I'm touched." Chapel replied flatly.

"She regarded most aliens as vermin to be exterminated. She appreciated the Centauri as great conquerors but mocked their decadence as weakness. She liked what the Narns had become, ruthless and brutal warriors, but knew they were at heart an agrarian race forced to become soldiers and killers. Earth she knew had a choice, and humans chose to become soldiers. She thought that defined you. Your world has a warrior tradition by choice, no one forces you to fight as well as you do. Even conscripts when they go to war have the choice between fighting or running and giving up. Humans choose to fight, and in that way she saw you were closer to us than any other race in the galaxy."

"This war forced a lot of people to make that choice." Sinclair reminded. "Not just us."

"I know, and I have fought many of them." Ari nodded. "And I learned that bravery and courage has nothing to do with race or world, it is universal. Something you can find anywhere in any corner of the galaxy. Some of the things I've seen would make you weep for the sheer magnificence of it, to see a squadron of fighters facing a dreadnought group, or one lone Hyperion charging for the flagship of the Dilgar Navy itself. It showed me, Commander, that we have more in common with the races of the galaxy than our leaders admit."

"You know that this culture of brain washing was continued by your own father?" Chapel remarked.

"I know, and by Jha'dur when she took over." Ari nodded. "They both considered it the only solution, and remember that they too would have been born to the same culture and told from childhood that fighting was the only way to survive."

"So why didn't you turn out like them?" Sinclair asked.

"I did, I believe firmly in the righteousness of this war." Ari said. "Or at least I did until I saw exactly how far it went, and how much death we were dealing. I have no problem wiping out our enemies Commander, make no mistake I am not fazed by the deaths of billions. But they should have been under arms, they should have been facing us. Dead soldiers who fall in battle are one thing, civilians killed without a chance of fighting back though is another."

"So you don't mind killing people so long as they have a chance of killing you too?"

"Not just a chance, but a willingness." Ari said. "That is my deepest belief, that fighting defines us but it is a choice. I choose to fight and only battle those who choose to fight against me. You Commander Sinclair chose to fight me and it was my greatest honour to meet such a skilled combatant. I never killed someone who could not fight back, that is murder not war."

"Your people slaughter tens of billions of civilians who couldn't hurt you." Chapel said coldly.

"They did, but I did not."

"You were in a position to stop it at anytime, one bullet in one head." Chapel continued. "Jha'dur."

"You might as well ask me to have killed my sister." Ari shook his head. "It would have stopped nothing, this war had to happen and had to run its course sooner or later. Omelos was a coiled spring waiting to be released upon the League. The only way to stop it was to destroy the spring itself, remove the armies and warfleets, which is something you have done. This was inevitable, the last act of the war, one side or the other fights to annihilation. It was how it was always going to be."

"They won't surrender will they?" Sinclair stated sadly.

"No, not this generation." Ari said in return. "You will have to turn Omelos into a prison, keep them contained and try to educate the generation that follows in the new way of the future. Death before dishonour, simple as that."

"Sounds like we have a long way to go." Chapel sighed.

"Perhaps." Ari agreed. "But there are those who want a better future, a minority who didn't buy the propaganda and somehow formed their own opinions against the war. Most are in junior government, kept away from the armies and fleets so not to spread dissent but still used in the war effort. We do have the capacity to be different to what you know of us Agent Chapel, it just takes time."

"Time is something we'll have plenty of." Sinclair smiled.

"Jha'dur had another reason for appreciating Earth." Ari stated. "She thought we were a lot alike, she studied your history and found many parallels with our own, many similar attitudes and beliefs. Your race turned against them, fought wars to defeat the philosophies we embraced and became a different society for it. But deep down she always believed you had the capacity to return to those ways, to become a totalitarian state just as ruthless and cruel as we are. I think her dream was to see that happen one day."

"She'd be very disappointed if she had lived." Chapel huffed.

"We are a lot alike, humans and Dilgar." Ari considered. "But one thing Jha'dur never realised is that it works both ways. You could become us, but by that same token we could have become you. Omelos could have become like Earth, my people have that capacity to grow and accept change, to better ourselves and become something more than we are. It might not seem like it right now, but I would like to see that future."

"I think most of us would like to see that too."

Ari smiled. "One day our people may be united, and sometime in the far future Earth and Omelos may well embrace the same fate. May we be remembered not for what we destroyed, but for what we created, a whole new galaxy and a better future."

The shuttle slowed down and matched velocities with a Nova Dreadnought, the mighty ship was massively damaged and the approach to the hangar was pitted with holes and cut metal were strewn debris had been cleared away to allow access. The pilot flew into the hangar through half the usual space he should have had, the blast doors only able to part a fraction of the way they were designed for. They turned within the docking bay and put down on a scorched platform which lowered them through an airlock into the loading bay proper.

"Welcome back to the Nemesis." Chapel grinned. "Good to be back huh?"

"Nemesis? I hardly recognised her." Sinclair exclaimed. "She took quite a beating. Again."

"She's a bit of a bomb magnet." Chapel agreed. "But old Joe seems to keep her in one piece."

"It's that grass skirt he wears, blessed by the ancient gods." Sinclair chuckled. "Looking at all the holes in this ship maybe there's something to it!"

"A Grass skirt?" Ari asked in puzzlement.

"That's along, long story." Sinclair said by way of explanation.

"We'll be hitching a ride back home on her." Chapel said. "She's lost most of her weapons and fire control, but her engines are still in working order and she has enough fuel to make it back to Earth Space."

"I bet Joe isn't pleased about leaving here."

"No." Chapel confirmed. "But we can't refit her in time for the last battles and there's no way he'd let some other crew fly her home."

"She gave good service." Sinclair nodded.

"She dealt the last blow to Jha'dur's flagship you know."

Both Sinclair and Ari spoke in unison. "Really?"

"Yeah, probably turned the battle by doing it."

"Good old girl." Sinclair smiled.

Ari remained quiet.

They left the shuttle as the bay pressurized, using the railings and guide ropes to move across the large open bay in the zero gravity. Further away there was a line of Starfuries docked on their racks, their markings instantly recognizable to both Sinclair and Ari as the Ghosts. A quick count revealed they still had ten of the twelve squad members operational which brought a smile to Sinclair's face. He hadn't been able to contact them before now and the sight greatly reassured him and eased his worries.

They passed a final airlock and entered the passageways of the Dreadnought itself, met at the door by the massive and imposing figure of Captain Tennant, the mountainous officer grinning widely.

"Well you took your time Dave." He delivered deadpan as Sinclair saluted. "Enjoy your little holiday?"

"Just lounging on a beach." Sinclair grinned. "Well, when I say beach I mean baking desert. And when I say lounging I mean fighting for my life."

"I hear they're making a Disney planet." Tennant mentioned. "Probably best to go there next time you decide to scoot off somewhere."

"Good advice Captain." Sinclair accepted. "This is Agent Chapel."

"Welcome to the Lady Nemesis, classiest female in the fleet." Tennant shook hands. "She looks a little rough like now, but so would anyone on the morning after a party like the one we just attended."

"I heard about that, she had some fun out here."

"Yeah, worth every single credit it cost to build and feed her. And fix her." Her Captain nodded. "She's a very devoted girl, bit like a cat that brings its owner dead birds and mice as a gift. Only with Nemi it's crumpled up Dilgar battleships and Warmasters."

"On that note, this is Ari'shan." Sinclair stated as the fellow pilot left the airlock. "We're taking him back with us for the EIA to look after."

Tennant eyed him warily. "Dilgar pilot huh?"

"He's a good one, an honourable one." Sinclair said. "I can vouch for him."

"Is that so?"

"You can take my word for it."

Tennant nodded slowly, then let his smile return. "Good enough for me, but don't touch anything and stay clear of airlocks. Lady Nemesis has a taste for Dilgar blood and I wouldn't put it past her to drop a blast door on you."

"Excuse me?" Ari asked, not quite understanding.

"Oh it's nothing malicious, she doesn't hate you." Tennant responded. "She's just playful like that, bit of a mischievous side."

Ari looked around him warily.

"Relax." Sinclair smiled. "The Captain does this to everyone, you're safe."

"But only because you're David's guest here." Tennant responded. "Nemi never saw a badguy she didn't kill ten seconds later. I suppose if Ghost Leader likes you then you can't be that bad."

He laughed and began to move away.

"Come on, let me show you around."

Tennant gave Chapel and Ari a brief tour, brief due to the fact large portions of the ship were still sealed because of battle damage sustained fighting the epic battle a few days earlier. He used the tour to look over the repairs himself and chat with his crew, sharing insider jokes and doing his best to keep up morale which was still as buoyant and proud as it usually was. The Nemesis had a hard won reputation as an elite ship, not because of a rigorous drill regime and constant practice but because the crew were so utterly dedicated to their unique Captain that they put more effort into their jobs than was considered humanly possible. She was the most sought after posting in the fleet for ordinary personnel, more so than the fleet flagships even and Captain Tennant could hand pick the best candidates for his vessel. Her performance in exercises had translated directly to the battlefield, and despite spending most of the war in refit she still had an enviable kill listing.

"And this…" Tennant pointed to a bulge in the roof of the corridor. "Is a bit of molten hull where we had to shoot through our own decks to hit a Dilgar ship pinned on our bow."

Ari looked at it in wonder.

"It was at the Battle of Markab." Tennant said proudly. "Due to a minor error involving a nuclear missile we ended up facing the entire Dilgar fleet alone, three thousand to one."

"What happened?" Chapel asked.

"We decided to try and avoid direct battle, it wouldn't have been a fair fight." Tennant stated.

"No, not three thousand to one." Ari agreed.

"Exactly, we'd need more like eight to ten thousand ships to really make things even with Lady Nemesis." Tennant said seriously. "She doesn't get out of dock for anything less than galactic Armageddon, she's got standards you see."

Ari couldn't think of anything else to say on the matter.

Sinclair hid a smile. "Shame she won't see the last battle."

"Well it would illegal to put this much bad arsery so close to a populated world." Tennant shrugged. "Price she has to pay I'm afraid. Still she does need to go home, the Dilgar fleet did get a bit jealous and catty when they saw her."

"She looks a little… dishevelled." Chapel chose his words.

"Yeah, they messed up her hair, smudged her make up, removed some of her mega death ray guns." Tennant answered. "She needs a bit of a fix up."

"At least you are taking a lot of wounded home too." Sinclair said. "Good deed for the month."

"Very true, good feeling to take our boys and girls home." Tennant said. "Some might call us a glorified Taxi, but not me, not at all. We're providing a special service. All those onboard right now when they get old will tell stories of their service on Balos, and you know what the highlight will be? They got to travel on the Lady Nemesis."

"Yeah, It's my highlight." Sinclair joked.

"They might remember with fondness their wedding day, or the moment they held their first baby in their arms, but it all fades compared to the second they set foot on Nemesis. Obviously."

"Obviously." Chapel played along.

"Come on, let me show you your quarters." Tennant led on. "Oh, that's a piece of a Dilgar Destroyer we found stuck in the outer hull. We have no idea how it got there, we didn't find it until months after the battle. We think Nemi took it as a souvenir so we mounted it on this wall here..."

Sinclair enjoyed the tour, a reminder of his deployment on this famous ship with its crew. It had been a long time since he'd travelled its halls and a lot had happened since then, but it still felt familiar and in many ways comforting. These feelings grew more defined as he approached the flight wing ready room and heard the chat of voices within.

He stopped in the doorway and cleared his throat.

"I'm gone for a few weeks and you turn this place into a tip!" He announced in faux disgust. "Hasn't anyone heard of a dust cloth?"

Had there been gravity it would have been possible to hear a pin drop.

"Boss?" Bill Hague moved from the group of off duty pilots, his eyes wide.

"Someone said you were looking for me." Sinclair said with a straight face. "Given I managed to just walk through the door you can't have been looking hard!"

"I knew there wasn't a Dilgar in the galaxy who could kill you." Hague beamed wide. "We'd pick you up and throw you in the air if it didn't mean you'd float off down the corridor!"

"Small mercies." Sinclair broke into a smile. "I'm glad to see you are all still here."

"Wasn't easy, that last battle was a close one." Hague admitted. "But we held it together."

"I knew you would, all of you." Sinclair nodded. "Even without me you're still the best Squadron there is, no doubt, no question."

"No doubt now we got the Boss back!" Lieutenant Ryan joked. "No stopping us now!"

"They don't have to stop us." Sinclair shook his head. "We're going home."

"Home?" Hague repeated with a frown. "But the war isn't over?"

"It is for us." Sinclair said. "We've been out here for nearly ten months, we've seen more action than most airwings! We finally got a break."

"But we're the best squadron, they need us, right?"

"Looks like they don't." Sinclair replied. "From what I've heard there isn't much left to fight, one last fleet and reinforcements from Earth are on their way to handle that."

"So we're going home." Hague said, his disappointment rapidly fading. "We're going home!"

The cheers went up again, the momentary disappointment at missing the last fight washed away by the realisation that it was done, that they had made it.

Hague was so busy cheering he didn't notice when the second figure arrived, and it took several seconds to see he wasn't actually human. When he saw exactly what race the new person was from his hand automatically grasped for a sidearm that wasn't there.

"Stand down Bill." Sinclair calmed the situation with his carefully modulated voice. "This is my guest."

"My mistake Commander, I thought it was a Dilgar." Hague glared at the man beside Sinclair. "The guys we're meant to be shooting out of the sky."

"He is Dilgar, he's also a pilot like us." The Commander stated. "This is Ari'shan, the Black Knight."

Beside him the youthful Dilgar, probably about Hague's age, bowed his head.

"The one who nearly killed you?" Hague growled.

"And I nearly killed him." Sinclair added. "We were enemies, opponents. Now we aren't."

"All done, clean slate." Hague slapped his hands. "Just like that."

"He hasn't committed any atrocities, he isn't like the rest of them." Sinclair said plainly. "On that you have my word."

Hague held his ground for a moment, but when someone like Sinclair put their weight behind an opinion it usually turned out to be right.

"He's still a Dilgar."

"He is, but he's also a pilot." Sinclair replied. "And that makes him one of us. One day the war will end and we'll have to learn to live in the same galaxy. We have a head start on everyone else."

He moved into the room, with Ari'shan following behind clearly nervous. He led the Dilgar to a seat and sat beside him, the whole squadron watching in slightly uncomfortable silence.

"So." Sinclair began and nodded at Ari. "Why don't we hear about our last combat from your perspective?"

With a weak nod Ari began the story, and twenty minutes later the squadron was so enthralled it didn't matter where he had come from.

Shri-Shaba

Hyach Homeworld

Dilgar occupied space.

The Dilgar had done an excellent job cutting the Hyach off from the rest of galactic events. The entire system was sealed shut to communications and starship travel with the jump gate heavily defended by satellites and mines while warships and fighters incessantly patrolled the reaches around the planet and inner colonies. Jamming stations filled the airwaves with static, unsophisticated white noise that deafened the advanced Hyach sensor and communication arrays and isolated them in their siege.

In the days shortly after the siege a number of Hyach ships had tried to run the blockade and break out. One or two had made it and if they survived long enough had joined the Liberation navy. These vessels were however small and while useful as scouts had nowhere near the power of the Hyach capital ships. Those mighty vessels had been ordered to hold position near the homeworld, the leadership unwilling to weaken their defences by sending away one of their prize battleships.

At first the Hyach guard fleet had been a significant deployment, the Dilgar well aware that of all the forces under Siege the Hyach were by far the most formidable. While decimated their fleet was still relatively large and still possessed several extremely deadly units. The Hyach had sortied one or two times to test the defences and although beaten back Dilgar losses had been heavy and only a carefully orchestrated deception campaign prevented the Hyach from seeing how weak they really were.

For the last four months the garrison at Shri Shaba had been progressively stripped to fill out the numbers in Jha'dur's Grand Fleet leaving just a shadow of its former power behind. Realistically the Hyach could have broken out anytime after the Battle of Bestine but had been intimidated into remaining on the defensive by a series of highly aggressive raids which again were a deception. To the Hyach these looked like nuisance attacks, but for the Dilgar they required almost their entire fleet to look impressive enough to fool the enemy.

The Dilgar had slowly replaced their first line ships with second line ones, then obsolete ones, and then hulks. Many of the ships were unarmed and barely powered, fitted with jammers to disguise their true decrepit nature. At regular intervals the Dilgar repainted the patrol ships to make them appear different, alternating through a series of serial numbers and unit markings to try and convince the Hyach observers that thousands of ships were lurking nearby instead of the barely three hundred or so second rate warships that actually patrolled the system.

While Jha'dur had stripped the fleet for bodies during the latter stages of the war she had no need for immobile units such as the defence satellites and mines. These devices had been deployed when the Imperium was at its height and represented a series of well built and carefully designed weapons that were still highly effective and a significant threat to any allied force. While the ships were weak, the fixed defences near the jump gate and towed from place to place closer to the planet itself were still deadly and the main point of concern for the fast approaching Allied task force.

"Five minutes to contact." Lieutenant Commander Jonathan 'John Boy' Georgia reported smoothly, his voice a rolling and almost musical sound on the bridge. He was a fully trained Jazz musician with a voice that was better suited to Blues music, but his true passion had always been the Saxophone. He dabbled in the Blues as any good boy from new Orleans should, but he was more of an up tempo kind of guy.

As first officer of the Heavy Cruiser EAS Hermione he answered to Captain Isuro Hasegawa. Hasegawa was a similar age to his countryman Admiral Hamato but still sported black hair and wore a trim beard. Additionally while Hamato was fairly diminutive and rounded Hasegawa was tall and gaunt with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. While his shape was mostly down to genetics and diet a good portion of his thinness was down to muscle wastage that he had incurred by serving in zero gravity for too long. Unlike the rest of his crew Hasegawa hadn't stood on firm ground since May, a period of six, nearly seven months by this point and it was beginning to take its toll, at least physically.

"Action stations." He ordered simply. "Close up for battle and standby to launch fighter group."

A series of sirens rang out, their distinctive call telling the already alert crew that battle was imminent. Most of the crew were already at action stations prepared for the fight anyway, but those few that weren't now dropped whatever was occupying them and reported for duty. Massive blast doors fell across corridors, dividing up the ship and compartmentalising it in the event of hull breaches and battle damage. The Hermione had seen plenty of action in recent weeks but had escaped relatively unscathed with just a handful of glancing hits on the hull. Hamato had managed to scrape together two hundred ships from all factions that had come through the battle in the best shape to send on this mission, a mix of human and League vessels of all sizes and types. He had enough Dreadnoughts and Carriers to fill their roles, but had come up short in terms of missile ships and rail gun Frigates. While many of these vessels still existed they had exhausted their ammunition at Balos and were still waiting a resupply from Earth.

"All stations sealed up for battle sir." Georgia reported. "Two minutes to jump."

"Not a bad response time." Hasegawa approved. "But I know ships that go to action stations in less than two minutes, we still have a long way to go."

"Yes sir."

"Open Hangar bay doors, align jump systems and await authorisation from fleet command to jump."

The fighter bays depressurised, the outer doors sliding open to reveal the Starfuries resting like bats on their racks in the middle of the warship. Like most Cruisers the Hermione still operated Tiger Furies, the more modern four engined Nova Furies tending to be assigned to Dreadnoughts, Battlecruisers and fleet Carriers as a priority. Despite their age the Tiger was still the most numerous Earth Fighter in service representing sixty percent of the fleet strength. It had been over eighty percent at the start of the war, showing how rapidly EA production capacity had grown to spit out new Nova Furies in vast numbers. No more Tigers had been built since the Nova type entered service, but many pilots still preferred the tough little craft despite the overall superiority of its bigger brother.

"Orders from the Churchill sir, jump in ten seconds."

"Very well Commander, comply."

Hyach planetary command was still a busy place, even with no fleet operations to oversee and its area of influence reduced from dozens of light years to just a single planetary orbit it still maintained a full staff of officers and still scoured the sky for anomalies and signs of attack. Seated at the heart of the room, staring up at hundred metre wide displays was Admiral Borako, the current senior military figure and last survivor of the original council of Admirals. He was in the middle of redistributing the increasingly scarce military supplies for his forces when the sensor nets came alive.

"Admiral, I read jump points forming beyond lunar orbit."

He raised his gaze to the map, the excessive jamming meant he couldn't tell what ships just jumped out but at least knew the energies of the vortexes were potent enough to spike through the background noise.

"They jumped in very close, can we get a visual?"

"Aligning optics now." One of the two dozen officers called out.

The main display altered, the computerised map of local space was replaced by black night and twinkling stars, the surface of the moon looming large on one side of the screen. The sight of it still made Borako wince as he recalled the millions of lives lost on the Moon colonies, lives the Hyach could ill afford to lose. Their race was dying, it was becoming harder and harder to produce healthy biologically stable children and it was causing their species to decline, to diminish steadily in numbers and Borako like most others knew they had only themselves to blame for the situation. It was a deeply buried secret, a shame that could not be described, and perhaps the universes punishment for their past sins.

He forced such ideas away and focused on his job, spotting a series of tiny distinctly coloured objects at the side of the moon.

"Magnify and enhance."

The computer trained telescopes zoomed in and the tiny objects resolved into the form of warships, and to his surprise they were not Dilgar.

"Those are Brakiri ships sir." His scanner officer stated. "Some Vree, a Markab flotilla, these ones I can't identify."

"Humans." Borako clarified. "I saw some diagrams of them, never seen one in person."

"What are they doing here?"

The old Admiral smiled, in Hyach society age was often the guiding criteria for promotion with their society being based on the concept of old age bringing wisdom and maturity. Most of the time it tended to be true, and the rulers of the Hyach race were all over a century old, including Borako. "What do you think Commander? It's the relief force, at long last!"

"I'm only reading two hundred vessels sir, a fraction of the estimated Dilgar fleet size."

"Then we must offer all the help we can, this might be our only chance." The Admiral said. "Send to all orbital units, power up and prepare for battle. Break orbit when ready and join League forces currently arriving in system. This is not a drill."

"Yes sir."

"Then send a message to Elder Yorilal, she's going to need to see this."

"Jump complete." Commander Georgia reported. "Getting a hell of a lot of jamming sir."

"Boost power to the datalinks." Hasegawa ordered. "We don't want to lose touch with the rest of the Task Force."

The Heavy cruiser slipped into place beside the twin Dreadnoughts Churchill and Patton, two ships that were virtually inseparable and together had inflicted a fearful tally of destruction against the Dilgar. They'd been luckier than most Dreadnoughts which had naturally been priority targets among the Dilgar, and while they sported a few holes and scars they were still fully operational.

"Data incoming Captain, strike packages for our fighters." The First Officer reported. "The Dilgar have a number of satellites jamming our sensors and long range communication. Tiger Furies are ordered to destroy them while Nova Furies provide cover."

"Very well Commander, launch fighters and tie them to the Patton airwing."

The six old Furies were shot from the side of the ship on electromagnetic launch rails, the blue engines kicking in a few seconds later and swinging the grey fighters around to join other craft launching across the Taskforce.

"Our orders are to proceed and half speed and provide cover for the Dreadnoughts as they clear away defences in the local area." Georgia finished reciting the orders.

"Same old story." Hasegawa smiled thinly. "Dreadnoughts get all the fun."

He ordered his ship into an escort position, dropping beneath the two Dreadnoughts who in turn were aligning one above the other. With his fellow Hyperion class ship Hasegawa fell slightly behind the heavier vessels to watch their slightly more vulnerable rear quarter, rolling his ship so it appeared to be upside down compared to the Dreadnoughts in order to bring his heavier guns to bear from the upper hull.

"Any word from the Hyach yet?" Hasegawa asked.

"No sir, still jammed, but cameras show some activity in orbit."

"What about the Dilgar?"

"No contacts yet." Georgia said. "But they are here somewhere, recon suggested they would be based near the gate, be several minutes before they arrive here."

"Gives us time to knock out their fixed defences first." Hasegawa nodded. "Very well Commander, steady as we go. Monitor scanners for any blips and pick up visual scans, I don't want to be surprised."

The Allied Taskforces began to set about their duties, the fast moving Markab and Vree ships taking point while the heavier human and Brakiri ships followed. The first job was to knock out the jamming systems so the warships could pick off satellites and mines at range and not have to close in and take them on point blank. While the satellites were no where near as potent as a warship they were deadly in large numbers and it didn't help the allied cause to risk damage when it wasn't necessary. Time was on their side, and this operation had no need to be rushed.

The Starfuries broke formation and moved to attack, several squadrons of League fighters adding their numbers to the strike force. Nova Furies kept their distance, shadowing at a few dozen miles range while the missile armed Tigers closed in on sources of greatest interference.

"Pick up your visual scans." One of the squad leaders reported. "Get a look at these things first, if they're unarmed take them with guns. If not switch to Anti Radiation missiles and make them sorry for throwing out so much signals traffic!"

Closing in the blankness were a few small targets, their position corresponding to the estimated location of the jamming satellites.

"Got the first batch, looks like they're unarmed but protected by gun satellites."

"Alright, let's deal with the defence platforms first. Missiles hot, sweep in by pairs and fire at will."

"With all this jamming we're going to have to get close for a clean lock."

"Roger that, play it safe people. Break and attack."

The Tiger Furies changed formation and accelerated, crossing into range and taking evasive action. Gunfire filled space from the defence platforms, the nimble fighters weaving through the rain like moths. By this time the human pilots were masters of their craft, even the newer rookies had been trained with information coming in from the frontlines and were optimised for taking on the Dilgar. The pilots had little trouble avoiding the Dilgar gunfire which was designed more to combat ships than fighters and served only to confirm their positions.

"Missiles away, clear and break!"

The various Tiger Furies launched their missiles and then pulled away, the steel darts pushing away on a trail of smoke and flame. The impacted the local defence platforms with puffs of flame, knocking them sideways and outright destroying several.

"I've got a path through the defences." One of the pilots announced. "Going for the jammers."

A trio of Tigers rolled over and sped through, crossing a pile of wreckage and lining up on a jamming satellite. They opened fire, scattering plasma rounds as they strafed the weakly armoured objects and melted their way through in a blaze of light and crackle of severed conduits and systems.

The satellite crumples as the fighters whizzed past, not outright exploding but taking enough damage to shut its systems down. An area of the jamming curtain immediately failed, the sensors of the Allied fleet and a portion of the Hyach planetary nets raising themselves back up to full capacity just as a force of Dilgar ships began to saunter into range.

"All fighters, new targets, enemy Dart fighters!" The Tiger lead barked. "Let's go get 'em people!"

Elder Yorilal stomped down the steps, her red and earth brown robes merging ino the subdued lighting of the room and making her hard to spot until she moved closer to the central command station. Admiral Borako was stood there, a set of wires running from his temple. He offered a quick nod of acknowledgement but was clearly very busy.

Like several members of the control room staff Borako had a neural interface, a set of connections that could link his brain directly to the computer systems of the base or a warship. It was one of the great advancements the Hyach could boast, something unique in known space and due mainly to their exceptional mastery of computing devices and miniaturised technology.

The direct link eliminated vital seconds from the decision making process by giving the implanted officer the ability to operate his or her systems through mental command and see directly through the sensors of the particular vessel or base. It could be incredibly confusing and only a relatively small percentage of the Hyach fleet was suitable for the link, and even fewer had the multi tasking abilities to be able to command through a direct link to the ship and implanted crew. Borako was one of those few, and right now was receiving information from the planetary grid and several warships directly into his brain.

Yorilal waited, patience being one of her great virtues. She was among the oldest people on the planet though still quite spritely and mobile for her advanced years. Her age and experience gave her a place in the senior circles of government and the continued defence of her people had been her given priority.

She waited until Borako had finished and touched a button on his console, suspending the neural link.

"Elder." He bowed. "We have friendly forces in orbit, I have just spoken to them."

"They have taken out the jammers?"

"A segment of them, yes." The Admiral responded. "We have a limited view of the system, but have spotted just over three hundred Dilgar ships on approach."

"A third of their estimated forces."

"Yes Elder, though our estimates may have been wrong." Borako stated. "The ships beyond the moon report no more than these three hundred, that we have been fooled and the Dilgar withdrew most of the garrison for a great battle."

Yorilal frowned. "Is this true?"

"We can't tell, not until we destroy all the jammers." Replied the Admiral. "But what we do know is that we finally have allied ships trying to break our siege. Elder, as minister in charge of defence I need a decision from you."

"The fleet?" she correctly guessed.

"I want to deploy all our ships in support of the mixed fleet." He stated. "We still have our defence grid to protect the planet while we turn around if it is a trick."

That much was very true, the Hyach orbital defences were the scariest in known space, their battlestations second only to the mythical Minbari space fortresses spoken of by old Centauri pilots, and even then not by much of a margin. The Hyach had been well defended before the war, after the siege was imposed the number of defence platforms had tripled turning the world into the best defended location known to exist, superior to the Abbai, Omelos and Earth defence grids combined.

"Very well Admiral, deploy the fleet." Yorilal confirmed. "What is the galactic situation?"

"Briefly, the Dilgar have been repulsed from the League and are in full retreat, only a few worlds remain under occupation." Borako stated. "In an hour two it will be one less."

"Our colonies?"

He shook his head grimly.

"Very well Admiral, you have a job to do and I will not interfere. Proceed."

He gave a second curt nod, then reopened his neural link and closed his eyes, letting go of his conscious nature and becoming a nexus for battle information and orders. With a few mental signals he cleared his fleet officers to break orbit and begin the battle to free themselves from the Dilgar.

"Score one!" Commander Georgia gave a satisfied statement of victory as a Dilgar Frigate ceased to exist courtesy of the Hermione's guns.

"Target destroyer, defence sector four." Hasegawa said unemotionally. "Fire as you track."

The turreted guns of the cruiser changed bearing, elevating and rotating in unison to face an incoming destroyer. The two ships exchanged gunfire, both the Hyperion and the Ochlavita representing the workhorses of their respective factions, true multi role warships build to take on a variety of tasks. Unfortunately for the Dilgar Earth Force had invested a lot more in the survivability and combat power of their design making it less numerous but more powerful. A duel between the two was a foregone conclusion, but the Dilgar ship made its attack run none the less.

Heavy blue plasma shots burned into the vessel, melting and distorting its forward hull while the force of the impact shoved the Dilgar vessel off course. The Hermione's interceptors took care of any fire that threatened to impact while the larger human guns picked apart the enemy destroyer. Within thirty seconds the fragile Dilgar ship fell to pieces with no sign of any survivors, as was largely expected when fighting this enemy.

A wave of red lights crossed the optical sensors, the signature of a Nova broadside unleashed on a Dilgar Pentacan closing hard from starboard. Even after seeing hundreds of such volleys it still sent a little shiver down Georgia's spine as he appreciated the destructiveness of that display.

"Dreadnoughts turning to starboard." He noticed and reported.

"Stay with them helm, hold defensive positions." Captain Hasegawa ordered.

The Heavy Cruiser turned leisurely as the Dreadnoughts adjusted course and took on a fresh set of Dilgar ships, their massed guns parting armour and hull struts like they weren't even there. The Hermione was more of a spectator to this fight, few of the enemy ships made it past the initial volleys of Dreadnought gunfire and only a handful of fighters evaded the predatory Starfuries giving the warship little to do.

Georgia watched an enemy cruiser sweep in from a different direction and head their way, a little competition and a worthy foe for the Hermione, but before it got much closer a quintet of Markab cruisers closed from nowhere and gutted it in one pass. He shrugged and went back to looking for threats. At Balos the Hermione had been extremely busy keeping the Patton out of trouble, her guns seemingly firing constantly as swarms of small frigates tried to take advantage of the slow tracking guns of the Dreadnought. The Hermione had held them at bay almost single handed while the Patton had smashed its way through the heavier enemy ships, an excellent partnership that helped out both vessels. Right now though there were too few enemies to really make much difference.

He spotted a second enemy cruiser approaching, and this time there were no Markab ships in sight.

"Hostile cruiser, Targath class, closing hard!"

"Re-task batteries, fire at will."

Again the guns swung around and armed, the interceptors still cool and able to defend the ship from the expected bolter fire. Once again the Hermoine didn't have a chance to fire, only this time the Dilgar ship met a spectacular end, speared by an intense beam of light that tore through it instantly, cutting the enemy ship effortlessly in two with surgical precision.

"Now who's stealing our kills?" Hasegawa huffed.

"Hyach dreadnought sir, coming up from the planet!" Georgia beamed. "She's recharging to fire again.

"In that case better not make a fuss." The Captain shrugged. "I don't want to be on the receiving end of one of those."

The Hyach dreadnoughts were legendary warships, the pride of the League and considered the most dangerous opponents to face in battle. The Yolu had arguably a better ship though it was more defensive orientated, and the Minbari were rumoured to have a particularly lethal class of Warcruiser, but in terms of raw offensive power the Hyach ships were hard to beat. While they mounted a formidable battery of lasers capable of unloading a lot of pain on most enemies, their true strength was the mile long spinal laser cannon buried in the supremely tough hull, a weapon without peer in the galaxy, even among Minbari.

The guns were naturally difficult to bring into battle, took a lengthy time to recharge and were hideously expensive, being mounted only on the best ships in the Hyach navy. They were however extremely long ranged, lethally accurate and quite capable of coring anything in the Dilgar arsenal up to and including Dreadnoughts. The Nova class had more raw power and was probably a better overall warship in a fleet setting able to engage multiple large targets at once while the Hyach ship was limited to one or two targets at a time, but in terms of single ship duels there wasn't much out there that could take on a Hyach capital ship and expect to get even one shot off before was annihilated at ultra long range.

The rich green hulled ships cruised past and joined the battle, their hulls an elegant almost leaf like shape echoing a spring flowering and looking nothing like the brutal and business like human ships they fell in beside. Being the pride of the Navy the Hyach dreadnoughts took the best crews including the majority of implanted command staff giving them yet another advantage over their opponents. By the time they joined the human ships the guns had recharged and through their neural links the gunnery officers targeted the remaining cruiser class ships in the Dilgar ranks with unerring accuracy.

The long beams of fire lashed out again, instantly destroying Dilgar ships far beyond their ability to reply. The cored warships fell in unrecognisable pieces around their comrades who were faced with a major dilemma. The best way to beat a Hyach ship was to swarm it at close range. They had massive firepower but their recharge rates were quite slow and had a hard time aiming at ships that moved into point blank range. It had worked well in the past and forced the Hyach to stay in orbit with the mutual support of the defence grid to cover them.

Unfortunately the Hyach now had friends and were covered by human warships. Attacks by multiple destroyers might beat the Hyach, but trying to take on a Nova with those sorts of tactics usually ended very, very badly. They other choice was to launch attacks by nuclear armed Thoruns, but again those fighters would be little more than target practice for the Starfuries keeping station near the fleet especially as the Dilgar pilots were fairly inexperienced and the humans were veterans. They had the choice of sitting here and getting picked off by the Hyach, or rushing in and meeting a wall of Earth Force firepower. They chose neither.

"Captain, energy spike from the Dilgar!" Georgia announced. "They're running! Jump points opening!"

"Very good Commander, but maintain alert status, still plenty of satellites."

"I thought the Dilgar had orders to fight to the death sir?"

"Under Jha'dur they did." Hasegawa noted. "Whoever took over must be a bit more practical."

The jump points closed in the distance. "They're gone sir."

"We'll hold position, I expect the Hyach ships have the range to destroy the satellites before they can shoot back." The Captain said. "And without a make believe Dilgar fleet to keep them scared they can take their time and not worry about getting jumped."

Commander Georgia watched his screen, noticing the Hyach must have had the same idea as they began to split up and move towards clusters of enemy satellites.

"Nice ships they've got there." He remarked.

"Not bad, but purely long range bombardment vessels." Hasegawa said. "If those ships had been at Balos they'd have lasted about five minutes."

"Yes sir." Georgia agreed. "Nice addition to the force though sir don't you think?"

"Provided they're well escorted, certainly." Hasegawa nodded. "Very soon we're going to have to hit Omelos and it's defence grid. Ships like that have the power and range to destroy every platform and station without risking our forces in a close range attack. It's a massive advantage, might save a lot of lives."

"But only if the last Dilgar fleet doesn't swarm them at close range."

"That's where we come in." Hasegawa said. "I won't pretend to know Hamato's strategy, but it seems a logical move. I predict the final battle will revolve around these ships and our efforts to keep Dar'sen from destroying them."

The Hyach warships fired again at their distant targets, each beam ending in a flash of distant fire.

Hasegawa nodded. "And if I can figure that out, you can be the Dilgar know it too. They can't win, not anymore, but they can still make us pay for victory. All it is now is a question of when."


	97. Chapter 97

95

Tithalis System

Dilgar occupied.

Warmaster Dar'sen continued to pace up and down the bridge, slow steps but still a direct indication that his mind was elsewhere and deeply pre-occupied. It had been over a week since they had lost contact with Jha'dur, and while there was still no confirmation either way it seemed increasingly obvious that Balos had fallen and none of the ships deployed there were ever coming back.

These were desperate days and he knew full well the war was lost, he'd known it since the morning after the battle of Markab when he'd seen the true strength of Earth Force and what the fleet was now up against. The Dilgar were war weary, overstretched and had expended most of their strategic reserves conquering the League, a feat that would truly stand as one of the most successful military campaigns of all time. It would also probably stand as the most brutal and cruel as well, but in that respect at least Dar'sen did not share the guilt, at least not directly.

That fleet had then met Earth Force, a fresh and large fleet with powerful vessels and fighting from on top of its supply bases. The reversal of fortunes had been total and the Dilgar had been driven back with great loss. Yet by the fortune of war that situation had reversed again and a successful but weary and over stretched Earth fleet had met a well prepared and potent Dilgar fleet at Balos.

As far as Dar'sen was concerned that was the very essence of warfare, the ability of a situation to alter itself radically based purely on the actions of one or two individuals. In the world he came from and the galaxy at large things moved slowly, committees and councils argued and debated, drew compromises, forced change through at the slowest and most painful rate imaginable. What you created was something impure, a product or decision so weighed down by meddling and politically hand wringing that it was a bitter and pointless result.

But not in war. In battle the fate of billions could lie with one decision, one stroke of luck or one sliver of a chance. It was a reality where individuals mattered, where meddling got you killed and you had to work as a perfect selfless team in order to survive and force through victory. At the top of that, best of all you could see people rise to the top, often the unlikeliest of individuals like the orphan child of a Warship officer who wanted to be a scientist instead of a soldier.

Dar'sen did not just fight battles, he lived and breathed them. War had been his way, his choice, since he was a child. It was all he knew and all he cared to know, from the cold clinical science of tactics to the passion of bravery and the rush of defeating a worthy enemy.

Dar'sen was no glory hunter, appreciating that such trappings were fleeting and easily lost through arrogance. He did not seek to fight purely for honour like Ari'shan, or purely for power like most of the council. He had no desire for political power and avoided the machinations of the Council. He participated only because he had to and remained loyal to his old friend and commander Gar'shan. He followed his orders, battled the enemies of the imperium coolly and dispassionately with neither joy nor hatred, and slept well with a clear conscience.

He's sole responsibility was to fight battles, to reduce fleets and planetary defences and defend Omelos however he saw fit. Both Gar'shan and Jha'dur had given him free reign recognising that Dar'sen worked best when he devised his own strategy as well as tactics, a scenario that had seen him hold the Drazi front with less than a fifth of the Dilgar fleet for nearly a year. He had taught Jha'dur all he knew of war and she had learned eagerly, her tactics and strategies that had been so successful were based on Dar'sen's teachings. However she had embellished this with a cruelty Dar'sen did not possess, and that ultimately was why Jha'dur led the war on the League. She was ruthless enough to wipe out every thing in her path, Dar'sen was far more reluctant to level civilian populations. It wasn't war to him, and as such existed outside his world.

Dar'sen was career military, joining up in the early days of the Navy and serving as weapons officer under Commander Gar'shan and his First Officer Ari'dur. They were an elite, the best command crew in the fleet and lethal on the battlefield despite their weak vessel. He'd lost count of how many Drazi and Raiders had fallen to them. It didn't last, it never did, and eventually time and war took each of the command crew until only he was left. Dar'sen was the last member of that pioneering generation in a position of power, only Tor'han who had been Jha'dur's first Captain could really be counted, but truthfully he was from the next generation along.

It isolated Dar'sen to an extent. Modern officers were too rigid, fanatical even, and most did not know how to think for themselves like the Captains of the old days. Dar'sen had emphasised that sort of individual thinking above all else in his training, something he knew Humans also put a high priority on. His forces, and those of his student Jha'dur had become an elite among the elite and it still was the case. His Strike Fleet remained a deadly force and even Earth Force was wary about engaging it without numerical superiority, something he took as a great compliment.

The world he knew was gone and would never come back. The world he had fought to create was also gone, a dream that vanished in the dawn. Balos had been their last chance, their final hope of snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. That hope had also passed, and Dar'sen had the uncomfortable position of being the senior Dilgar official left alive and conscious which meant he was now leader of the Imperium and acting Supreme Warmaster. It was a role he had never wanted, it brought politics into the equation and destroyed his simple world of fleet movements and strategy.

He secretly hoped Jha'dur was still alive, but given what he had seen on the human news channels it looked like he was not going to be able to avoid this fate.

"Warmaster."

His aide Battle Captain Ca'ra saluted and then trotted quickly down the steps to the bridge itself holding a sheet of printed paper.

"Is that the report Captain?"

"Yes sir, we managed to get a scout into the edge of the Balosian system to confirm the story for ourselves."

Dar'sen made an effort to contain himself. "And Captain?"

He let out a deflated sigh. "Scans show a level of debris consistent with human claims. The entire fleet was destroyed to the last ship, and it seems our ground forces were likewise annihilated."

"What about Jha'dur?"

"We identified wreckage from her flagship. It was completely destroyed."

He cursed quietly. "The entire fleet?"

"Most of them didn't have the fuel to make it home anyway, and the jump gate was impossible to reach through the Allied fleet. Nothing got out."

"Ten thousand ships." Dar'sen shook his head. "Unthinkable."

"The battle seemed to have badly damaged the Allied fleets to, they only have a few hundred operational ships left and most of those were sent to liberate the Hyach."

"Can we reach Balos?"

"We could sir, but intelligence states a large number of fresh human ships will be arriving there shortly."

"Boosting them back up to full strength." Dar'sen grimaced. "What about our ship yards?"

"The Omelos yards are working at full capacity to churn out Delegor class ships."

"Suicide Frigates?" Dar'sen said with mild distaste. He disliked the concept but had to accept they had proven extremely useful for their size.

"We should have a few hundred available by the time Earth makes its move." Ca'ra stated.

"What about other facilities?"

"Our other main yards were at Balos, most were destroyed and those that weren't are well beyond our use."

"What about Tirrith, Alaca, Utriel?"

"The Tirrith fighter yards are long gone, and Utriel has been raided by league forces. We still hold Alaca but its facilities are quite small."

Dar'sen exhaled. "Not an ideal situation is it Captain?"

"No sir." He nodded. "It isn't."

"Never really wanted to rule the Imperium, now I have to and I have to somehow build something from this unfolding disaster."

Dar'sen accepted the very real possibility that he was going to be the last Warmaster of the Imperium, the man who would preside over the final destruction of his race. He knew what was coming and he knew they were almost out of time. Even if the war ended right now they would only be able to save a few million souls, the loss of warships and constant convoy raiding had destroyed their ability to transport people in great numbers. Even if they lived they would never have the numbers to stand with the even the smaller League races, at best they could hope to become a human protectorate, but more likely the League or Narn would get them first.

It was a grim realisation, and Dar'sen retreated into the world he knew and dealt with the matter at hand.

"Alright Captain, let's start putting pieces into place. Right now there is no organised force between the Humans and Omelos, they could walk right in there if they wanted."

He stroked his chin in thought.

"I don't think they'll go straight for Omelos, I think they're going to liberate these worlds first. Time is a factor here, these worlds have been under siege for a long time and are running low on military supplies. Earth needs to liberate them fast before turning on Omelos, they've broken our main fleet, Omelos can wait. Buys us some time, few weeks."

"What can we do in a few weeks sir to stop this?"

"Stop it? Nothing can stop it now Captain." Dar'sen shook his head. "But stopping it doesn't matter, fighting it does."

"So we're not going to surrender?"

"My orders were to defend Omelos to the last, and I will."

"All fleets have returned to their standing orders to withdraw if their position becomes untenable." Ca'ra stated.

"Good, we'll do the same." Dar'sen said. "if we stay here we risk getting cut off by ships moving up from Balos. We need to be ready to move, fuel status?"

"Enough to get us to Omelos sir, and Captain Sa'goth reports we have just enough fuel to restock the fleet, well, up to about half capacity."

"Enough to fight a battle." Dar'sen nodded. "It will do."

"Jha'dur's fleet emptied our strategic reserves of fuel and munitions, and with the Balosian refineries gone we just can't replace them."

"I know Captain, at this point it doesn't really matter."

Before he could think any further a set of alarms sounded.

"That's timing." He grunted. "Sensors, what do we have?"

"Fleet scale jump in!" The officer reported. "Detecting large numbers of Drazi ships forming up!"

"Earth Force?"

"Confirmed sir, human vessels detected."

He checked the tactical display. "It's the Sixth Fleet, not the main Expeditionary Force. They haven't cut us off yet."

"I'm reading a lot of Drazi ships, looks like a major attack." Ca'ra said quickly.

"Stro'kath is sensing blood, he knows we're on our last legs." Dar'sen smiled wryly. "He's moving in for the kill, but not just yet old friend, I have a few places I need to be before I'm finished."

"Orders Warmaster?"

"We're going to withdraw to Omelos, but we need to keep them busy until we can jump. Nineteen minutes Captain."

"Going to get rough sir."

"Probably is." Dar'sen agreed, settling into his element. "Action stations."

Cruiser Stormhawk

Drazi Fleet

Stro'kath bared a set of unappealing teeth as he saw the neat rows of green warships assembled near the planet.

"See? I knew Dar'sen would still be here! Yes, he's crafty but he won't walk away without a fight."

"He should have withdrawn while he still could." Stro'kath's aide commented.

"If he runs now he'll be worried about us overtaking him in hyperspace." The old Warleader remarked. "He wants to tie us down, make us use up some fuel so we can't give chase. Let him! We're in no rush!"

Thousands of Drazi ships filled space, sleek and deadly little cruisers that glowed like fireflies as they took their formation and prepared to attack. They were the product of an intense building programme, something only possible thanks to Earth Force.

For the best part of the year the war on the Drazi front had been a constant cat and mouse game between Dar'sen and Stro'kath. The Dilgar fleet would launch an attack into Drazi space, sow a little damage, destroy a few ships and then wait for Stro'kath. The Drazi Warleader then counterattacked and rather than hit Dar'sen directly assaulted his rear echelons and forced the Warmaster to withdraw back to his territory. Stro'kath would then attack on his own to keep the Dilgar off balance and Dar'sen would in turn force a withdrawal back to the established front lines.

Neither side had the ships or resources to hold or capitalise on their gains, but likewise neither side was simply going to sit still and let the enemy do what they want. These constant attacks soaked up Drazi resources and kept them from rebuilding their shattered fleets, maintaining the stability of the front while the Dilgar Warmachine focused on Earth. However the arrival of Admiral Ferguson and the EA Sixth fleet stopped that cycle, blockng any moves by Darsen and throwing up a barrier on the Drazi border, even taking back one or two worlds. It allowed the Drazi to focus on making new ships, strengthening their fleet and preparing to renew their offensive, this time in coordination with Earth Force.

Stro'kath knew the war was nearly over, he had heard about Balos and after congratulating Ferguson for the conduct of his race, drinking heartily to the grave of Jha'dur the Deathwalker, and then punching out a few fellow officer in a good spirited Drazi way he began to accept that this defining conflict was going to go away.

His feelings were mixed about that. On the one hand he was glad, this war had come close to breaking his people and even now they were dangerously weak. The Drazi had been in space for a long time, several centuries of constant skirmishing and fighting, but this was the only time they'd really stared extermination in the face. It was a damn close thing.

On the other hand though the Drazi were a Warrior race, a species born to struggle, strife and combat. This war had been the ultimate test of their courage and bravery and they had met that test magnificently. Many, many warriors had died and in Stro'kath's opinion a lot of them died stupidly, but even they had at least fallen in battle facing their enemies, and that was something to be honoured if not copied.

Those who had survived, especially those in Stro'kath's Attack Fleets were legends. They had survived the crushing defeats of the early months, lived through battle with the most devilish and fearsome enemy the galaxy had seen and then come back and started winning. Until the day they died they would be honoured, people would stand aside in the street for them, buy them drinks and listen in awe to their stories. They were heroes and their tales would by the legends of future generations. The war had made them immortal, and as their leader Stro'kath was guaranteed a special place in the Freehold.

Stro'kath did not concern himself with praise. He was not a vain man though he would certainly appreciate the free drinks part of being a living legend. His main concern was his legacy, not one of personal glory but of the reforms he had made to the Drazi military transforming it from a loose collection of ships into a truly ferocious and disciplined combat force. He knew that post war politics would once again rear its ugly head and try to dismantle everything Stro'kath had build in the desperate heat of battle, and he would fight literally to keep it for the future security of his people.

He had a long career and was proud of his battles, from his first scrap in the playground through single combat, flying warships, arm wrestling Narns, raiding Centauri convoys right up to this day, giving battle at the head of a fleet of thousands. He had tasted every aspect of a warriors life and savoured each second, but probably the long battle of wits and strength with Dar'sen when he had virtually nothing but his will power and a few loyal ships would count as his greatest moment. These were the moments of which he had once dreamed and now they were his past.

He had made some good friends in the war, most surprising of all had been the human Admiral Donald Ferguson. Despite appearing nothing like a warrior he had found the human had a fighting spirit that did him proud, and the skills to match. More interesting though was the information the humans had brought, including a downloaded service record of his greatest rival, Warmaster Dar'sen.

It turned out they had crossed paths a few times in the past, when both had been junior officers. It even turned out Stro'kath could take credit for killing Jha'dur's father in one of his early engagements. It was doubtful that Dar'sen knew this, but it didn't matter, Stro'kath was still thrilled at the news. It was like an epic saga, two old warriors constantly crossing each others paths without ever knowing it, not until near the end when that final conclusion was due. Ultimately one of them would die at the hands of the other, naturally Stro'kath wanted to be the one left standing but if he did fall there would be no shame in losing to Dar'sen. In fact it would be a rather poetic ending to his days.

However Stro'kath had some important plans for the future mostly revolving around the fleet and settling some score with the politicians who had so badly hindered the Drazi navy and its chances of success. Those people still held power and they still had a lot of support, even among the military. The only way to break their hold on the fleet and to give the Drazi the defence they deserved was to challenge each one to single combat by the old rituals, to the death. If they refused they would be forced to step down from their place of power in shame, if they accepted Stro'kath was confident he could gleefully snap their spines despite his age, he had quite a lot of motivation.

All of that however was secondary to his contest with Dar'sen, this decades long challenge that forced both soldiers to operate at the top of their game and drew the very best from them and those under their command. The constant turn of battle had given both officers a truly galactic class fleet that could stand with the elite Centauri Imperial escorts and the human Third fleet in terms of pure excellence in battle. The final meeting between these two forces, when there was nowhere left to run and no concerns other then fighting to the last, that was the moment Stro'kath was waiting for. That was the moment that would sum up his entire life.

"Our fleet is ready." Captain To'mak reported. "Admiral Ferguson is set up for a steady advance."

"Then give the word." Stro'kath nodded. "The human ships will advance and engage the enemy directly. We will take the Attack fleet and keep Dar'sen busy, the new fleets will advance with the humans, provide cover, and watch carefully how real warriors fight so that one day they can do the same!"

The grey human warships began to advance, their hulls showing the wear and grime of their lengthy deployment. The ships were operational and the crews well rested thanks to Drazi hospitality, but they wouldn't be winning any beauty contests. Starfuries launched and took up a cautionary position around the bigger ships while the newer Drazi ships and crews deployed in squadrons around the edges of the human fleet, making sure to avoid the firing lines of the heavy weight vessels. Earth could afford to keep their fighters in reserve and use them as interceptors rather than as strike craft, Stro'kath would take care of that role.

The veteran Drazi force, representing a third or so of the total number turned away and began to loop around towards Dar'sen's flanks. A simple manoeuvre that both sides had encountered before and simply a prelude to the more complex tactics Stro'kath had developed in his experience. The two forces moved at a leisurely pace, timing their movements with expert precision and setting themselves up for some carefully coordinated attacks.

"Moving into position." To'mak said calmly, as professional as any human or Dilgar first officer. "Earth fleet three minutes from firing range."

"That is our time then." Stro'kath said heartily. "All ships accelerate to attack speed, evasive approach, close range strafe, execute."

Like a flock of birds the Drazi changed course as one, swooping with menace towards the defensively arrayed Dilgar ships. Dar'sen was playing it safe, keeping close to the planet so the grav well would hinder the agility of the Drazi ships, make them turn and manoeuvre more sluggishly and give his gunners something to aim for. Ultimately though Sto'kath had no desire to tarry in the area, his ships would simply shoot through at high speed firing on targets of opportunity and then worry about turning afterwards when they moved out of range.

Warmaster Dar'sen observed their approach, giving the Drazi a slight nod of respect as they barrelled in towards his ships.

"Sir, enemy coming into range." They're crossing in from our flanks, shall I turn toward?"

"Negative Captain, it's a feint." Dar'sen said. "All guns fire at will, but do not, I repeat, do not alter formation."

Captain Ca'ra did as ordered and across the fleet well used cannons turned to face their enemies, raising their muzzles to point in the direction of the onrushing Drazi while targeting sensors sought targets amid the counter measures and jamming.

"It's a feint sir?" Ca'ra said after attending to his orders. "I didn't think Drazi made feints?"

"This one does." Dar'sen grinned. "He's going to hit us, that part is real, but it's not the real strike. He wants us to deploy to meet him when the real attack is coming in from dead ahead."

"Earth Force."

Dar'sen nodded. "Good opening move, I doubt Stro'kath thinks we're going to fall for it but never the less it is quite a demonstration."

"Of what sir?"

"Discipline and control." The Warmaster said. "Something Stro'kath has imposed despite the nature of his people. No small achievement, and if my calculations are right he'll clear out of the way just as the humans enter range. Very nicely organised."

"We still have a three to one advantage over the humans alone sir."

"We do, and we could take them alone, but not with these Drazi ships." Dar'sen shook his head. "The humans pin us in place and Drazi sweep in and gradually rip us to shreds like a dozen hawks attacking a tiger. No, this isn't the place to take on these odds. We'll ruin his little programme, mess up his range and timing calculations. Engines, full reverse, lets keep the distance open between us and the Humans."

The Dilgar ships moved, jets of smoke and fire erupting from retro thrusters as the vessels began to pick up speed. At about the same time the flanking ships began firing, bolter and pulsar cannons hurling orbs of glowing particles into the sky in patterns of white or orange. They kept their missiles in their tubes, saving them for a more urgent target as they all knew by now that reloads were going to be very scarce. News of Balos, rumours of a crushing defeat had circulated but it did not distract them from the job at hand, and the long guns shuddered as they spoke.

The Drazi loosened their formation in order to deny the Dilgar gunners a large and easy target. They rolled, dived, curled and weaved, a series of hard evasive spins and twists that kept the targeting computers guessing and forced the living gunners to try and second guess the Drazi and constantly update their firing computers. As the Dilgar ship moved backwards the helm officers had to adjust their course marginally and alter the plan, fortunately Stro'kath's people had little difficulty adapting and finally made it into range, unleashing streams of yellow particle fire.

The Drazi ships were the same designs that had served faithfully since the start of the war, and like those early ships they were dangerously fragile and unable to absorb much firepower. Speed and agility was their best defence, something the better crews had taken advantage of but even they were not perfect and from time to time a Dilgar round made its target and ended the ships career in a puff of silver shards.

The Drazi flowed like a silver stream through green weeds, dodging through the Dilgar forces and firing at whatever fleeted across their path. A pair of cruisers shuddered as Particle beams grazed them, melting through the hull and pummelling the flanks of the vessels A Drazi ship was hit by a particle bolt at close range, the shot severing the fore and aft sections from one another and tumbling both into a mad fall through the void. Dar'sen's ship received a fair amount of attention, but his escorts were among the best Dilgar troops alive and had little difficulty predicting and destroying any Sunhawks that came too close.

As Stro'kath ordered the Attack fleet did not linger, did not swoop around to finish off the wounded enemy or try again to break the defences at the heart of the fleet. They mowed through, swept away chased by gunfire and looked over their shoulders waiting for the crushing volley from the human fleet.

"Well?" Admiral Ferguson asked, a hint of perturbed tone creeping into his voice.

"We are, we're still out of range sir." Commander Griffin said apologetically. "The enemy are reversing away."

Ferguson released a gust of annoyed air from his lungs. He had over three dozen Dreadnoughts at his command, a very powerful and very destructive corps of ships, but also very slow too.

"Are they making a run for it?"

"No sir, just reversing, keeping a fixed formation."

"Yeah, this guy has got it right." Ferguson nodded. "If he breaks formation Stro'kath will have him for breakfast. He's still facing us isn't he?"

"Yes sir, he still has his forward aspect pointing our way."

"Which means he's moving on retros only." Ferguson realised. "Our ships might be slow but I'll be damned if we'll be outrun by a bunch of ships using nothing but retro thrusters!"

"We are closing the range sir, just slower than expected."

"Then we just have to wait a little longer." Ferguson grunted. "Revised time to firing range?"

"Six minutes sir."

"Copy that to Stro'kath." The Admiral ordered. "I'm sure he can find something to do for another few minutes."

Dar'sen could feel the deck rumbling beneath his feet as the ship strained its engines, the retro thrusters not really designed for this sort of prolonged intense operation.

"Time to jump engine charge?"

"Six minutes sir."

Dar'sen raised an eyebrow. "This is going to be close."

"Human forces still closing, Drazi attack wing is coming about for another pass."

"He'll be coming in stronger this time, he'll try to inflict more damage and slow us down for his human friends to catch up." Dar'sen stated. "We do not stop or slow down, we jump the second the engines charge. Clear?"

"Clear sir."

It was Dilgar policy to try and keep the jump engines unpowered if possible, the volatile systems were dangerous to use under normal situations for the Dilgar, their own designs being noted as some of the worst in the galaxy. While a human ship could survive a hit to the jump engines, a similar hit to a Dilgar ship proved almost universally fatal as safeties and redundancies were a strange and alien concept to the Dilgar military. If you are weak enough to let an enemy hit you then it's your own fault if your engines cook off.

Unfortunately Dar'sen's early warning system had proven unreliable enough to miss the incoming fleet and it had taken him by surprise, though he had expected such a move would probably happen.

"Light ships move to the rear." He ordered. "The Drazi will hit there hardest, be ready to meet them."

The small Drazi warships angled in again, and again they were met by controlled salvoes of defensive fire. This time the Drazi slowed a little at the last moment, taking their time to concentrate fire and inflict greater damage on Dilgar ships as they cruised past. As Dar'sen predicted they concentrated on the rearmost ships, trying to destroy or disable them and form obstacles in the direction of the remaining warships. Stro'kath wanted them to slow down, evade, dodge the wreckage. They did no such thing.

A Dilgar frigate was crippled, part of a cruiser escort group. It lost power as a Drazi ship cut into it with a bright yellow beam, scattering molten metal and feathered strips of armour as it clove through it. The Frigate found itself drifting in the path of its parent cruiser, a ship it had spent months operating alongside. The larger Dilgar ship did not flinch or hesitate, its aft guns fired into the side of the Frigate, pushing it out of the way in a pillar of flame and allowing the more valuable capital ship to continue its withdrawal.

A ripple of fire crossed the fleet marking the direction and speed of the Drazi fleet, moving like a trickle of destruction running through space.

"Earth fleet entering range!" Ca'ra barked.

"Forward batteries open fire, keep them busy!" Dar'sen snapped. "Jump drives?"

"Almost there!"

The ships at the other end of the Dilgar fleet now opened fire themselves throwing a wall of particles down range towards the human ships and their Drazi escorts. Dar'sen enjoyed a moderate range advantage over Earth Force and the human ships could not yet return fire, however the long range and lengthy travel time of the weapons gave the interceptor grids plenty of time to react.

Ferguson watched calmly as a few Dilgar laser beams shot past, one of them scoring a hit on one his escorts in a shower of molten sparks. Lasers were too fast for the interceptors to deal with, even at these long ranges.

"Are we there yet?"

"Coming into range shortly sir." Griffin said. "Weapons are aligning, acquiring targets."

The massive guns in massive numbers scattered across the Sixth fleet made minute final adjustments. Ferguson had ordered his Dreadnoughts to hold a forward course for the initial salvoes and only start turning after they closed to point blank range. It meant the powerful broadside volleys of the Dreadnoughts would be masked for the opening salvoes, but the human Admiral was confident the forward guns along could still do plenty of damage.

"No enemy fighters yet?" Ferguson asked.

"No sir, still in the hangars."

"That's odd." The red haired officer mused. "I don't think he's actually going to fight."

"Should I release our escorts to close at full speed and attack?"

"I think we missed our chance." Ferguson shook his head. "Better luck next time."

Sure enough as he watched the Dilgar ships finally turned around, cutting their retro thrusters and using their main engines. A few seconds later a series of welcoming vortexes opened up to usher them out of the system.

"They won't run far, they haven't got anywhere else to go." Ferguson shrugged.

"Should we stand down sir?" Griffin asked as the Dilgar fleet made good its escape, a few stragglers falling prey to Stro'kath's forces in the process.

"No Captain, we still have Tithalis to deal with, few defence satellites still left there. Co-ordinate with Stro'kath. We'll secure the planet and clear the way for Drazi ground troops."

"Aye sir."

"With this world in our hands we're just one jump from Omelos now, and with Balos our main fleet is about the same distance away." Ferguson considered. "No prizes for guessing what the boys and girls at Earth Dome are planning for us next."

Within two hours the Tithalis system had been returned to Drazi hands. The world had once held a large Drazi colony, it's location and the constant skirmishing with the Dilgar meant it was a prime strategic asset and very well defended as a fortress world, a bulwark to hold back the expected Dilgar invasion.

It had fallen in the first week of the war, and only bungling by the theatre commander, one Warmaster Len'char, prevented the initial Dilgar assault from penetrating even deeper into their territory. By the time Len'char was removed and Dar'sen given command the front had stabilised and the best Dilgar opportunity had vanished.

There was still evidence of the Drazi colony, the cities and defences that had once seemed so permanent and unbreakable represented by traced ruins and dark patches on the surface where nuclear weapons or mass drivers had impacted. They were old scars now, nothing but reminders of the time before the war and the lives that had existed back then when everything had seemed so certain and so unchanging.

Now though Drazi ships once more orbited the planet and landing ships full of soldiers hit the ground and poured their cargoes into the plains, seizing key locations and hunting down any surviving Dilgar soldiers. They did not give mercy and did not expect any in return. They were not disappointed.

"Third wave is down." To'mak stated. "Fourth wave of assault ships is beginning to enter the atmosphere."

"We'll cover up to wave six, that should be enough." Stro'kath said. "We'll keep the rest of our troops in orbit as a reserve, send them in if we find any trouble."

There was a chime on the sensor board. "Jump point sir."

The old Drazi gave a puzzled expression. "Are we expecting anyone?"

"Not until tomorrow sir."

The vortex expanded into space and launched forth a trio of Drazi ships, gleaming bright and apparently fresh from the yards.

"Signal coming in." To'mak reported. "From the new arrivals."

"Lets have it."

The small video panel beside him changed to show a Drazi face, one that filled Stro'kath with seething anger.

"Kalsha."

Defence Minister Kalsha beamed back. He was a long time rival to Stro'kath and represented everything that was wrong in Drazi society in the view of the old soldier. Kalsha was a politician and one so sly and deceptive he could give the Brakiri a run for their money. He had used the war to rise in power despite never actually doing much to help the efforts against the Dilgar and often hindering them with his selfish and short sighted decisions. He had become arguably the most powerful and influential man in the Freehold, rivalled only by Stro'kath himself. A showdown was inevitable.

"My compliments in your victory." Kalsha said with little sincerity. "You have removed the last obstacle in our path."

"Not quite, Dar'sen is still out there."

"One Warmaster and one fleet." Kalsha dismissed. "This war is all but over."

"The humans have a phrase, something about counting horses before they hatch."

Kalsha frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means the war isn't over until we've broken the Dilgar fleets and destroyed their ability to fight back." Stro'kath clarified. "Until we do, the war is very much ongoing."

"We both read the same reports, your friends smashed Deathwalkers forces."

"They did."

"And Dar'sen is on the run." Kalsha said. "Know what that means? Omelos is unguarded, and we have a clear path to it."

Stro'kath's expression darkened. "You are not serious."

"We're going to Omelos."

"That is madness."

"Why? There's no warships in the system, the Dilgar stripped them out!"

"Dar'sen will be there soon enough."

"Not if we overtake him in hyperspace, our ships are a lot faster than his and he doesn't have much of a head start."

"You'll use too much fuel."

"It won't matter, we'll have enough."

"What about the Omelos defence grid?"

"Our reports say it is ineffective."

"Those reports are three years old!" Stro'kath yelled. "You think they haven't changed since then?"

"We can handle it, I'm taking the fleet."

"Like hell you are."

"I still outrank you Stro'kath."

"I am the Warleader, you gave me authority over military decisions until the war ends!"

Kalsha smiled coldly. "I changed my mind."

"You are a fool!" The older Drazi bellowed. "You want glory, to be the man to reach Omelos first!"

"I want to end this war swiftly." Kalsha returned calmly. "Assaulting Omelos will do that."

"You'll never come back."

"Stop being so dramatic." The minister grunted. "I'll take the fleet, beat the defence grid and drop our full arsenal of nuclear weapons on them. The war will be over."

"Earth has forbidden genocide on the Dilgar."

"I don't take orders from humans." Kalsha snarled. "Unlike you."

"You won't take my ships with you on this suicidal quest for glory."

Kalsha grunted a laugh. "Perhaps not, I don't want to be shot in the back."

Stro'kath boiled with anger.

"But I'll take the rest, the fresh crews you haven't poisoned yet."

Stro'kath had reached his limit. "You won't take this fleet. Kalsha, under the ancients laws I challenge you to combat. To the death."

"And I accept." Kalsha smiled. "After I get back."

He cut the channel and began organising the ships that had been escorting the Earth fleet.

"Kalsha!" Stro'kath roared. "Face me you coward!"

It did no good, with a few brief orders the Minister vanished back into hyperspace and a large number of ships followed him. Stro'kath's stayed, as did a few of the new ships that obeyed his standing orders, but too many left on a course for Omelos.

Tithalis had seen many Drazi fleets lost by the failures of their commanders. It now played witness to that phenomena one more time before the war could end.

EAS Temeraire

Hecate class Battlecruiser

Hyperspace, deep in enemy territory.

The electronic image on the screen looked like a painful headache, a swirl of colours and lines that shifted and bulged continuously, changing colour as often as they did shape. For most people watching it for longer than a few seconds tended to induce nausea or at the very least intense boredom and befuddlement, but not for Jack Maynard. He didn't see blobs of colour, he saw a complicated interplay of gravity and energy, a constantly changing and evolving fabric of a universe itself. It was like a sea, stormy in some places, calm in others, and able to change between the two with terrifying speed. Hyperspace was an ocean, and Maynard was one of its new mariners.

"Helm, two points to starboard." He said calmly. "Nice and steady, wave front coming up ahead."

He remained fixed to the screen as one of the shapes grew closer to his position, the computerised display translating local hyperspace into an easy to read representation of energy and distortion. He waited calmly as the wave front touched the Earth ship, the gravitic disturbance barely shaking the vessel thanks to Maynard's timely warning.

"Resume earlier course, two points port." He said. "Steady as you go, little choppy out there."

Lieutenant Jack Maynard was on loan to the Temeraire from the EAS Omega, a scout ship that usually found itself leading fleets through hyperspace and providing sensor support in battle. It was a vital role during the war, but took away from her primary mission of exploration. In peacetime the Oracle class were at the forefront of human expansion, moving into never before seen systems, using their extensive scanners to survey new worlds and then returning a report to either ignore the area or send in a more detailed IPX survey or jump gate constructor.

They were old ships and despite upgrades were getting long in the tooth. Earth was in the advanced planning stage for a new super explorer, one that could the three jobs of exploring, surveying and jump gate building all with one titanic hull. Maynard wanted one of those ships, he wanted one bad.

But to get one he had to progress up through the ranks, and to do that he needed every opportunity he could grasp. Competition in the Explorer division was intense as it tended to attract the more adventurous and skilled individuals in Earth Force and to stand out in that group Maynard needed to have one hell of a service record. If what he heard was true command of one of the Super Explorers was going to be the absolute pinnacle of any officers career and only the absolute best of the best were going to have a chance at grabbing one.

He'd done well in his career so far, keeping a calm head in the by now infamous 'Omega incident' that had triggered human involvement in the war earlier than expected. He also had something of an affinity for hyperspace, a knack for spotting incoming storms and anomalies that had already singled him out as one of the best of the human navigators. That was why he was here, a temporary transfer from his beloved Explorer division to the front line, a battlecruiser on an extremely dangerous and vital mission. A large chunk of the success of this mission rested on his shoulders, and if he could pull it off it would be a guaranteed promotion and a fast track to command, and one day his own Explorer ship.

"Check engines." He advised. "I'd recommend a… four percent decrease in power, we've got a slight dip ahead and we don't want to slide down it too fast."

The helm officer complied, the entire bridge utterly silent except for Maynard's occasional recommendation. Everyone was sat still, held tight by the tension that permeated their assignment and the potentially lethal position they were in.

"We're within the outer marker." Commander Saleh said slowly, his whisper booming like a thunder clap. "We just entered the Dilgar home system."

The battlecruiser continued to move carefully through hyperspace right at the absolute limit of the hyperspace beacon. Normally a ship would stay close to a beacon signal, riding the safe path it marked out through the tumult of hyperspace. By doing so however the ships were following an easily predicted path and were easy to spot by early warning sensors, meaning that this particular mission would have been detected and opposed by the Dilgar, especially given its target.

To maintain the element of surprise the fleet was proceeding outside the normal jump route in an area of space that was much less safe and predictable. Out here the gravity inclines, energy whirlpools and sudden rolling waves could easily throw a ship off course, and with such a tenuous link to the beacon network such an event would spell disaster.

That was where Maynard came in. His particular skill could keep the ship safe and steady in the rough swells of hyperspace, and if something very dangerous headed their way he could warn the crew and move to safety before it hit. It wasn't just the Temeraire he had responsibility for, but two other ships following precisely in her wake and using his readings to plot their own course. It was a game with incredibly high stakes, but the mission justified it and as they moved into position there was no indication the Dilgar had spotted their difficult approach.

"Based on beacon readings we should be exactly in position." Maynard reported.

"Are you certain of that Lieutenant?" The ships commander, the famously named Captain Manly Power asked cautiously. "I don't want to jump into a star or moon after coming all this way."

"Should be fine sir, I've got some faint distortions in hyperspace that correspond to the locations of the Dilgar worlds and moons. We should jump out exactly over the target."

"And if we haven't plotted our position correctly?"

"Then we might jump out in the face of the Omelos defence grid itself."

"Well, what's life without a few little surprises." The Captain wrung his hands together. "Alright helm, standby jump engines. All hands man action stations and standby to engage the second we hit real space."

Maynard kept a watch on hyperspace around him as the ship prepared to leave, making sure there were no last second perils. The journey home would be much easier and safer using the established jump route, his particular contribution to the mission was now over and success now rested with the handpicked ships and crews about to attack a target in a location considered impossible to reach just weeks ago. He still had a role to play, but fulfilling the role of navigation officer on a conventional warship was something he could do in his sleep. The crew had trusted him to get them here alive, now he had to trust them to get him out of here alive.

The ship rumbled and then jolted as it passed through the Vortex, exiting hyperspace at full burn instead of gently coasting through as peacetime operations dictated. The two other ships also exited hyperspace at speed, one was the identical twin of the Temeraire, the EAS Thunderchild built literally side by side in the Harland and Wolf orbital yards before the war. Both ships were first generation Hecates and had been used to prove to the Senate that Earth needed ships of this quality in the battleline. For once the Senate had agreed.

The third ship was not human. Given the nature of the mission and the requirement to bombard a target that could be buried deep in the surface of a moon the planners had wanted a good bombardment ship. After running through the possibilities only one type of vessel really stood out, a Hyach battlecruiser. The ship was smaller than the Dreadnoughts of its race and lighter armed, but crucially it still possessed the spinal laser cannon and all the long range destruction that device promised.

The two human warships moved in first while the Hyach vessel hung back and waited. Maynard had been good to his word and dropped them just outside effective Dilgar weapons range above the ice moon intelligence had identified as the likely source of their target. The manufacturing centre for the planet killing missiles.

"Sensor returns coming in, no enemy ships in the vicinity." Saleh confirmed. "No mines, no satellites, no major energy readings."

"Any sign of structures on the surface?" Manny asked.

"Still checking." The first officer reported. "Intelligence could have been wrong."

"Perhaps, but let's do a thorough job. Chances are they saw us jump in and if it is here we won't get a second chance to nail it."

Ever since the existence of the missiles had been discovered they had dominated strategic planning for the allies. The weapons were an entirely new technology, something far beyond what anyone had predicted the Dilgar were capable of. Jha'dur had dangled them like bait in a trap, the steel jaws of which had been her massed fleet of warships stationed at Balos. Earth sprung the trap, but had foiled the Warmasters plans by turning the tables and destroying her forces instead. Now they had to enact the final stage of the strategy and destroy the weapons before they could be used or transported elsewhere.

There had been a lot of debate as to whether destroying them was the right choice, even as the strike force was leaving Balos and linking up with the Hyach vessel there was still plenty of people who question the validity of the mission. It took a direct order from The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the President to finalise the operation and give the final go order. After what Manny had seen during his service and the effects of even primitive weapons of planetary destruction he knew it was the best choice.

"Sir, the Valai Koram is signalling." Saleh reported. "They say there sensors have something, grid forty by eight hundred."

The Hyach ship was hundreds of years more advanced than its human cousins and its sensors had been key to travelling on the edge of the beacon signal on the way in, Manny had no problem accepting it would pick up the target first.

"Full sweep of the area, confirm there's something down there."

The various arrays focused on the given location, running invisible beams and waves across the white and black frozen wastes trying to penetrate the surface and see beyond. Beside the information that the facility was hidden on this moon the fleet had no other information about, not size or strength or defences. They picked up a small structure on the surface, a plain and unthreatening encampment consisting of a few simple sealed buildings and a hint of something more substantial beneath them.

"Looks like a small scientific outpost." Saleh said. "But I have a lot of interference, very subtle like a passive field that is scattering our sensors. Something definitely more than meets the eye."

Manny accepted the information. "I can't see a need to block scans of a tiny science station, this has got to be it."

"There are no other targets on the moon sir, completely empty."

"Lets hope the intel boys got it right then." The Captain grimaced. "Arm nuclear weapons and instruct the Valai to punch us a hole through the ice."

The weapons Manny referred to were the largest nuclear weapons ever created by humanity, multi stage thermonuclear fusion bombs with a yield in the multiple gigaton range. They were monster weapons, designed to wipe out the mega cities that had formed on advanced planets across the galaxy and demolish deeply buried commander structures. For Earth Force they were apocalyptic weapons, for the Dilgar they were mediocre versions of their own even more frightening nukes. Impressive as they seemed to human eyes they were an inefficient waste of resources in a war that routinely saw mass drivers used without restriction.

The warheads were prototypes only recently completed and with a lot of opposition in the Senate. They required an exceptionally sized missile to carry them and ended up being too big for the conventional EA missile ships to store and launch. A modified vessel capable of operating with them was on the drawing board code named 'Apollo' but was unlikely to see service anytime soon. It meant that in order to deploy these missiles Earth Force had to improvise, and that improvisation was to mount them in cylinders on the lower hulls of the two battlecruisers.

It was not ideal, and Manny was very concerned about flying into action with two such devices strapped to his outer hull. While there was no real chance of the warheads being detonated by enemy fire they were still filled with a lot of very volatile fuel and that couldn't be healthy for his beloved warship.

Earth also had a further concern, they had no idea how deeply buried the facility was and no idea if bombarding it with nukes would even work. Experience had shown that the Balosian underdwellings had survived direct hits from weapons much more powerful than the human missiles and devices like this had never been tested before, their effectiveness was entirely theoretical. To try and tip the odds the raiders would use the Hyach ship to burn through the ice with its main cannon, try to expose the facility itself, and give Manny a clean shot.

The only thing they had to worry about was time, every second they lingered made it more likely they'd be intercepted, and elite as they were three ships stranded in the Dilgar home system were in a very tenuous position.

The Hyach warship released its final safeties and fired, the bright beam of energy bursting forward and hitting the surface of the planet instantly immolating the small science station and coring deep into the ice in a storm of vapour that rose high around the spike of light like an artificial geyser. The beam fired for several seconds before ceasing and allowing its components to cool down, leaving a deep conical impression on the surface radiating vapour and liquid water that began to rapidly freeze in the cold of the airless moon.

"You can bet someone saw that." Manny grimaced. "Any fresh contacts?"

"I'm reading a lot of chatter, but no ships moving our way."

"Very unusual." The human Captain frowned. "What are they waiting for?"

"Might be laughing at us for shooting at nothing but ice?" Saleh suggested.

"It had crossed my mind." Manny admitted. "Still, our people said even the majority of Dilgar don't know about…"

"Captain, sensor contacts!" Lieutenant Maynard suddenly shouted. "Hyperspace disturbances further in system!"

"How many?"

"A lot sir, fleet scale."

Manny watched as the flat tactical map filled with sensor contacts, after a few moments each was labelled with a class and type along with other information such as speed, course and distance.

"Drazi ships?" Maynard queried. "What the hell?"

"They're making straight for Omelos." Manny noticed. "They're going to try and break the defence grid."

Saleh tapped a few keys and displayed a list of data the human and Hyach ships had gathered regarding the Omelos home defences. It made sobring reading.

"They're going to get slaughtered." The First Officer said flatly.

"At least we know why the Dilgar were ignoring us, they must have picked up this fleet on the early warning net." Manny said. "It'll keep them busy until we're done."

"Should we try to help sir?" Maynard asked.

"Nothing three battlecruiser can do over there Lieutenant." Manny shook his head. "But we can complete our own mission, status?"

"Hyach ship is firing again."

"Watch for signs of the buried base, as soon as you see metal we nuke it and run."

"Understood sir."

Manny watched the tactical display. "I don't know what the hell the Drazi are thinking, but I'm glad we're over here and not over there."

Minister Kalsha had already made up his mind to attack no matter what, and even as the sensor returns filtered in and built a picture of the Dilgar defence grid he resolved that he would not turn back, he couldn't do so and expect to maintain his position. As predicted his ships had managed to pass Dar'sen in hyperspace and arrive before him, though the margin was smaller than Kalsha would have preferred. The Dilgar fleet had begun to push its engines to their limits, aware of the direct threat the Drazi posed to their homes and determined to catch up and destroy them. Kalsha had at most an hour before Dar'sen arrived, maybe less, and in that time he had to break the defence grid and lay waste to the surface of Omelos.

The second part would not be too hard, each of his ships carried a quartet of nuclear missiles beneath their short wings and while designed for anti ship work would do just fine against cities and infrastructure instead. He had enough to hit every major inhabited area, and while it wouldn't be on the same scale as a Dilgar planetary attack it would be quite sufficient to destroy Omelos as an effective population centre and doom billions to death as the infrastructure collapsed. He could mop up the rest later.

In order to reach the planet though he first had to remove the defence grid otherwise his slow moving missiles would be little more than target practice for the orbital satellites. Every report he had read stated the Omelos defence grid was weak, that the Dilgar had funnelled their resources into ships instead of satellites, offensive units over defensive ones. For most of the war this was true, but after the Drazi themselves came within one jump of Omelos during Operation Retributive Strike the War Council had recognised the flaw and significantly upgraded the home defence network. It was a cheap and hastily thrown together system, but it had a brutal simplicity and was going to be murder to fight through.

"To all ships, this is the Warleader." Kalsha announced, assuming Stro'kath's rightful title. "Engage the defence grid. Strike swift warriors, the satellites are fixed in space while we have the speed and agility of a hawk on the hunt! Sweep through them like wild fire! Destroy them! And then we take our revenge. Full attack, no respite and no mercy!"

The Drazi ships swiftly changed course, dropped their noses and raced for the planet flying into a massive barrage of energy fire. The intensity of the storm took Kalsha off guard, especially as he watched dozens of vessels blasted to pieces within seconds of the attack order going out. He set his jaw firm, held his nerve, and pressed the attack into the teeth of the defences. He just could not allow himself to turn back.

There was another roar of steam as the spinal laser burnt deeper into the planet, like the spear of an angry god it dug into the skin of the moon in torrents of hot gas and boulders.

"What the hell is this place made of?" Manny grumbled.

"The Hyach report they're firing into bedrock at this point sir." Saleh relayed. "Very tough rock."

"Those Dilgar bastards aren't making it easy for us are they?"

"No sir, almost like they didn't want us to nuke the most valuable asset they possess."

"Damn inconsiderate." Manny nodded. "What about the Drazi?"

"Well they've got nerve sir, they're taking on the defence grid point blank."

"How are they doing?"

Saleh shook his head. "About as well as expected."

A few million miles away the battle was in full swing, Drazi ships moved singly or in small groups through the defence grid with none of the teamwork or control Stro'kath had instilled in his veteran followers. The fresh ships and fresh crews fought as they had always fought, charging in heedless of danger and focusing only on themselves. They paid dearly for it. The Dilgar satellites swung their guns about and scattered fire across the path of the attack ships, smashing and rending armour and structure. The Dilgar defences were all manned, even the lightest of defence platforms, and displayed a more intuitive approach to battle than any automated platform. It was a bad assignment with a low life expectancy, but the platform crews gave their defenses an edge and it was being exploited mercilessly by the Dilgar.

Vast swarms of Dart Fighters launched from the planet cut into the Drazi, easily overcoming the weak and ineffective Drazi fighter screen and stabbing missiles into the engines and flanks of the various cruisers and attack ships attacking their home. Light Dilgar warships also engaged, flanking the Drazi forces and firing on them as they passed, adding their weight of firepower to the already saturating energies circling the world.

In and among the satellites were the occasional battle stations, and larger than them above the capital was orbital command itself. The vast station vaguely resembling a five pointed star chugged gunfire into the sky easily cutting down the knots of Drazi ships that dared to try and attack it. The Coordinated defences were inflicting a fearsome toll on the attackers, and while satellites fell, frigates burned and destroyers were torn apart the Dilgar losses paled in comparison to the death toll among the Drazi fleet.

"Cannons to the left of them, cannons to the right of them, cannons to the front of them." Manny muttered at the disastrous battle. "It's brave, but it isn't war."

He observed a set of old Thoruns streak towards an enemy ship, rolling and dodging as they pressed on, not decelerating or slowing as the distance closed. Ultimately they flew right into the hull, a few of the denser parts of the craft passing out the other side of the weak Drazi ship as it dissolved in flames. Many of the wrecks were caught in the gravity well of Omelos and would ultimately fall to the planet and perhaps do some damage that way, but it was scant return for the massive losses being incurred in the badly planned offensive.

"Captain, we've got something."

Manny redirected his attention to Commander Saleh. "Did we break through?"

"I think so sir, picking up a metallic mass."

The Hyach laser ceased firing, the pit it had eventually dug through the ice and rock still steamed and smoked, glowing rocks mixed with the ice with billowing white clouds of vapour rising and rapidly turning into ice in the cold emptiness, falling back to the molten rocks to be vaporised and repeat the process again.

At the bottom of the pit, obscured from sight but visible to sensors was a metallic block, a refined and reinforced slab of heavy armour that had absorbed the initial salvo from the Hyach laser and now cooled as the weapon recharged.

"That's it!" Manny grinned triumphantly. "Looks like the EIA got it right this time!"

"Sensor show a hollow cavern beneath the metal sir, hard to get anything specific but it looks like a large structure."

"Not for long." Manny said dangerously, lifting an eyebrow. "Let's get this done. I want missiles one, two and three targeted here, here and here." He indicated on a map of the area. "Equidistant around the target, set them up to trigger a full seismic event at exactly the same time."

"Yes sir."

"It should create a shockwave that converges simultaneously on the facility, a convergence of three level nine Earth quakes centred on one location, that should give them a headache."

"Absolutely sir."

"Drop the fourth missile straight into the pit, direct strike set for contact detonation. Time it so the last nuke hits at the same time the shockwaves arrive. We'll shake it apart and nuke it from orbit, just to be sure." Manny resolved. "We can't let even one of those weapons out of there."

"Programming in the firing solution now sir."

"Launch when ready." Manny approved. "Then get us the hell out of here."

Kalsha kept an utterly straight face as his fleet was whittled away, a few ships here, a few there, gradually adding up into hundreds as they meandered through the tightly woven defences with no clear goal or direction. His people fought bravely as they had been born to do, but they were not winning.

He hadn't given a single order beside 'attack' and had no idea what to do next. He was relying on numbers and fury to sweep away the defences, but with the strengthened defence grid opposing him he had lost any advantage he might have once had. With no central control, no orders and coordination to focus the power of the fleet the Drazi were expending themselves in small pockets, boxed in by the defences and systematically destroyed by roving forces of Dilgar warships that should have been easy prey for the attackers.

A few Drazi had banded together into attack wings, those who had been paying attention to the doctrines Stro'kath had tried to push through the academies and they survived longer than most. In the end though even these groups failed, overwhelmed and unsupported by their comrades they were picked off and destroyed.

Kalsha did not know what to do, his plan had failed and he had no concept of a back up plan, and certainly no idea about how to adapt on the spur of the moment. He expected to win easily, and now that had failed to occur he was completely lost in a fog of indecision, with every second he delayed costing him more ships and lives. He just did not understand what had gone wrong, and could not accept he was losing.

A glimmer of hyperspace energies signalled the final death knell, space opening up behind his forces and unloading the weary but angry forces commanded by Warmaster Dar'sen. Despite their hard journey they opened fire at once, carefully directed volleys that scoured orbit without risking a stray shot or two falling through the sky and impacting somewhere on the surface. Fresh fighters launched, armed with anti ship missiles while the bigger ships formed a perimeter, closing like a vice and trapping the Drazi between the defence grid and the Strike Fleet.

Even at this late stage Kalsha could not accept defeat, did not issue the withdraw order and did not send orders to his ships to reform and met the new attack. Confusion and panic over came his ships and crews as they were trapped and cut from the sky in showers of fire and wreckage. He didn't even blink as his own ship was lit up by targeting systems, a Dilgar battlecruiser locking on to his command cruiser.

His last thought was to formulate a plan to blame Stro'kath for this misadventure, a way to safeguard his position and maintain the power he had accumulated. He would never let go, never give up, and never step aside for his hated rival, hated because deep down Kalsha knew Stro'kath was a better man in every respect.

In the end Warmaster Dar'sen settled the issue for him, Kalsha would never need to bow to Stro'kath, and for that at least the Drazi politician could raise a smile.

A few Drazi ships made it to hyperspace, recognising the extent of the disaster and following Stro'kath's basic rule of living to fight another day. Many more did not.

As the vortexes opened another blossom of energy was born elsewhere in the system, a quartet of small suns opened on the surface of the distant moon flash boiling uncounted tons of ice and hurling hurricanes of water and vapour deep into space, their heat and power exposing bare rock across a quarter of the moons surface and shuddering the entire small ball of rock.

The moon was obscured in a massive cloud of gas like a white nebula, slowly cooling and crystalising into a stunningly beautiful formation of ice, refracting light through its crystals like a billion prisms twinkling in all the colours of the spectrum. The base was gone, conclusively shattered by the attack and the Allied ships made a hasty withdrawal to the confusion of most of the observers on Omelos who could now direct their attention away from orbit.

"They nuked a moon." Captain Ca'ra reported. "It makes no sense."

Warmaster Dar'sen quickly familiarised himself with the reports feeding in from orbital command.

"Two human ships and a Hyach." He noted. "Attacking an uninhabited moon while the Drazi attack our homeworld."

"Why would they do that? there's only a small weather research station out there?"

Dar'sen frowned and pondered. Like Jha'dur he had only recently learned of the existence of Gar'shan's side project that had created the new missiles, but aside from the fact they were real he didn't know anything more. His instincts told him Earth Force wouldn't waste ships on such a folly as blowing chunks out of a moon for no reason. On the balance of probability he guessed they had located the facility making those new weapons.

It didn't surprise him as much as he expected it would.

"We'll investigate later Captain, check local space for Drazi stragglers first."

He examined the battlefield, the familiar Drazi wrecks thrown away for no gain. He wondered if it had been an elaborate scheme, that the Drazi attack was one big and costly diversion to allow the Allies to destroy the facility. Certainly it was worth the losses to take it out, but deep down Dar'sen knew it was not the case and that more likely both instances were unrelated.

"Just like the old days." He remarked. "Even now after all this the Drazi are still the Drazi."

"I can't believe they would do something so rash and stupid." Ca'ra shook his head.

"It's Drazi nature. People like Stro'kath are the exception, and they are damn lucky to have someone like him." Dar'sen sighed. "The Drazi have been in space a long time, longer than the Centauri. They had the power and resources back then to be what the Centauri became, a great empire. They still could be, but they never will. You know why Captain? That's why."

He pointed to the images of wrecks in orbit.

"Because they do rash, stupid things. It is their nature, it's what rules them, and when Stro'kath is gone his influence will go with him and the Drazi will be right back where they started, where they always end up. Divided, angry, and too busy fighting and squabbling among themselves to affect the galaxy at large."

His thoughts turned when a small light indicated an incoming signal.

"Message from Omelos sir, command priority."

"Patch it through." Dar'sen nodded. The only person left on Omelos with command authority was Captain Sa'goth, the Dilgar head of intelligence. It was to his great surprise that the younger officers face did not greet him on the screen.

He was looking at a ghost, thin faced with pallid skin and grey hair. Set into that face was a set of eyes that while surrounded and besieged by lines and gaunt bones still blazed energy and intelligence. Automatically Dar'sen rose from his chair and saluted crisply.

"Warmaster, I have been informed an attack by Drazi ships has just been repulsed."

"Yes sir."

"I have been… indisposed for some time, but perhaps you can tell me how they managed to penetrate our defences and threaten Omelos?"

"I think it's best I speak to you in person sir, a lot has changed."

"Very well." Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan gave his approval. "And Dar'sen, where is Jha'dur?"


	98. Chapter 98

96

Council Building

Omelos

He wasn't used to it being so quiet. In his memory the Council chambers were always loud, always busy. Voices were raised, tempers would flare, arguments would flow one way and then another until a decision was made and then they moved on, shouting and arguing about something else. A few times the room had been shocked into silence, events which had turned the room deathly. Learning about the demise of their world had done it, as had the destruction of the fleets at Markab when Earth had entered the war. But in his mind, in his memory had been only yesterday that he had heard the arguments and voices.

But it wasn't yesterday, it was nine months ago and for all that time he had been laid apparently on his death bed. The Council was gone, their voices forever silenced and the round chamber a witness to their final moments. Gar'shan ran his bony hands over the table, tracing the dents and scores in its surface caused by gunfire. He examined the chairs, some of them shot through with padding hanging loosely from ripped cushions. Some bore dark red stains of long dried out blood while a whole corner of the room was covered in blood. They had removed the bodies but not even bothered to clean up.

Assassination was an eternal worry of a Warmaster, there was always someone else who wanted the job and would do whatever was necessary to secure that place. Very few Warmasters retired, most died in accidents that were conveniently arranged, or succumbed to apparent medical conditions as Gar'shan almost did. Even so purging the entire Council in this manner was unheard of, and even if they did in fact all deserve it there were ways and means. He knew Jha'dur had done it, and he could barely imagine what had driven her to such an extreme act.

The double doors, thick and solid, swung open and revealed a pair of guards in their full dress uniforms. Shortly after a further two individuals entered the room and trotted down the stairs, standing to attention before their leader. The first was Dar'sen, a physical embodiment of martial prowess and tradition. He made his salute and waited Gar'shan's attention. The other younger and slightly shorter man was only vaguely known to him, he had a brief recollection of meeting him but couldn't place his face.

"Warmaster Dar'sen, stand easy." Gar'shan acknowledged.

"Yes sir." The old soldier relaxed. "May I present War Captain Sa'goth, our head of military intelligence."

Gar'shan remembered the name now.

"Good to see you Captain, I can only hope you have performed better than Len'char did."

"Considerably sir." Dar'sen answered for him. "He has proven a good match for the Human EIA and has kept many secrets from them."

"Shall we sit down then Gentlemen?" Gar'shan suggested. "I think we can find a chair with no blood on it."

Both Dar'sen and the Supreme Warmaster took their traditional places while Sa'goth took Len'char's former place at the circular table. He was a little awestruck to be sat in this chamber among the last two Warmasters in a place where so much history had been made. He wished he could savour it more fully, but unfortunately time was against him.

Gar'shan set things in motion.

"I need to know the strategic situation, succinctly gentlemen."

"In two words sir, we're losing." Dar'sen delivered in pure honesty. He had never been one to mince words or couch news in pleasantries. He and Gar'shan had served together since the start of their careers and he knew his superior did not need to be spoon fed bad news.

"What happened?"

"Earth Force." Dar'sen said. "As you recall they broke our forces at Markab and then counter attacked. While you were occupied they managed to roll up our defences all the way to our core holdings, we lost a years worth of conquests in four months."

"What about Mitoc, our future homeworld?"

"Gone." Dar'sen shook his head. "When it looked like the humans would take it the order was given to turn the defence grid on the planet and annihilate it. Mitoc is a dead rock, poisoned and blasted. Nothing lives there now."

"Who gave the order?" Gar'shan asked evenly, gathering information before he started forming opinions.

"Warmaster Jha'dur sir." Dar'sen admitted. "She created a policy the humans call 'Scorched Earth' which essentially destroyed everything we held rather than lose it. Mitoc, Krish, several colonies. She has forces and assets set up to do the same to Tirrith and Alaca if necessary. Personally sir, I think we'll lose both those worlds this week."

"They are that close to us?"

"The Drazi are at Tithalis, the amalgamated League fleets are at the Abbai colony of Utriel, and the humans are at Balos. All three fleets are one jump from Omelos."

"By the gods." Gar'shan exhaled. "They are our doorstep."

"We recently heard that they had liberated Sshumssha, the Abbai homeworld. We didn't have enough ships to hold it, even against the League."

"That's confirmed sir." Sa'goth added. "It fell late yesterday evening."

"It appears our opponents are liberating each of the besieged homeworlds as a priority before moving on us directly." Dar'sen said. "Probably a political measure, their stated objective is to free the League first and defeat us second."

"Also lets them build up their forces, mass for a major attack while deploying smaller groups to free these worlds." Sa'goth added. "We've detected large scale reinforcements coming from Earth, a lot of ships."

"How many?"

"Over two hundred Dreadnoughts and six hundred cruisers." Sa'goth said.

Gar'shan shook his head. "And their ships are better than ours aren't they?"

"On balance, yes sir." Sa'goth nodded. "The humans have a massive industrial base, they can turn out warships in large quantities very fast. Their vessels are simple to build and maintain but very effective."

"What about our fleets? What do we have to meet them?"

Dar'sen cleared his throat, a sign that he was about to deliver bad news.

"Following Jha'dur's recovery from injuries sustained in battle she implemented a crash building programme. She used all our stored resources to construct a set of simplified warships, thousands of them, and gathered them into a single fleet to oppose the human advance. We managed to keep this build up secret thanks in a large part to Captain Sa'goth. We picked Balos as our battlefield."

"Jha'dur successfully halted the advance, and held off a further counter attack." Sa'goth said. "But she didn't have the resources to capitalise on her victory, and when the humans came back a third time she was ultimately defeated."

"What happened to her?" Gar'shan asked, feeling a lump in his throat.

"All evidence points to her falling in battle." Dar'sen said solemnly. "She remained with her fleet until the end and found a Warriors death."

Gar'shan smiled sadly. "As good as can be expected."

"Warmaster I must inform you at this time that your eldest son Dal'shan is also reported as killed in action." Dar'sen said bitterly, getting the words out as fast as he could. "And Ari'shan is reported as missing, presumed killed. I'm sorry."

Gar'shan rolled his head back and forth a few times, gazing down at the table. In that moment he did not look like the most feared man in the galaxy, the individual who had built the most potent war machine in history and then unleashed it on the League in a tide of blood and fire. He looked like a weak old man who had just seen his life broken before his own eyes. At the start of the war he had five people he considered family, who were closer to him than anyone else could hope to be. He had lost two and it has cracked his will, now he had awoken to find the remainder gone too. Dar'sen had no way of understanding what that was like.

"Their fate was…" Gar'shan struggled for words. "No different to any number of others I sent into this war. To grieve for them is to grieve for us all."

Dar'sen kept respectfully quiet.

"As Supreme Warmaster all Dilgar are my children." Gar'shan said hoarsely. "And I have lost many of them."

"We did discover the source of your condition Warmaster." Sa'goth tried to change the subject. "You were poisoned by the Drakh."

"The Drakh?" Gar'shan stated hollowly. "I never trusted them, but they did bring us much technology for the fleet. It was worth the risk."

"The Sekhmet class performed well, as did the Spectres." Dar'sen agreed. "But when we found out they had poisoned you, well, Jha'dur didn't take it too well."

"That girl had quite a temper." Gar'shan recalled fondly. "She killed them?"

"Eventually." Dar'sen nodded. "There's a rumour she kept one alive in eternal pain."

"Sounds like something she would do." Gar'shan approved. "She knew the way to manipulate terror."

"Unfortunately the technology did not turn the tide." Dar'sen informed. "The Sekhmets are gone and our Spectres were wiped out on Balos by Earth Force."

Gar'shan raised his eyes, narrowing them. "There was one other aspect of technology, a last and ultimate weapon for us to use if it looked like the war was lost."

Dar'sen nodded. "We only recently became aware of the missiles sir. We didn't know where they were being made, but we had a suspicion."

"Earth Force destroyed a research facility at point Tri'eles earlier today while the Drazi were attacking us." Sa'goth said. "We couldn't work out why they would attack such a pointless target until we sent a scout to survey the area."

"I know why." Gar'shan sighed. "They found the base."

"It seems so sir." Sa'goth concurred. "We found evidence of an underground structure, some of the fragments found in orbit were Drakh in origin."

"I see." Gar'shan grimaced. "So old friend, where do we stand?"

"I can give you fifteen hundred veteran ships in orbit." Dar'sen announced. "And another eight hundred or so garrison ships which are much weaker in build and have barely trained crews."

"We know the enemy will take Tirrith and Alaca before they turn on us, that gives us time to prepare." Sa'goth said.

"How many enemy vessels are we expecting to face?"

"With the League, Earth and the Drazi? About six thousand." Sa'goth answered. "Of those two thousand will be capital class."

Gar'shan laughed bitterly. "Not the news I expected to hear when I woke up. Perhaps I never should have."

Dar'sen shook his head. "I'm glad to have you awake, I miss the company."

Gar'shan barked a laugh. "Glad I made a contribution then!"

Dar'sen chuckled a little before turning to Sa'goth. "How long do we have?"

"By my estimate, three weeks."

"Three weeks." The Warmaster replied absently. "Not much time to prepare."

Gar'shan nodded.

"We started this war to give our people eternity. To guarantee an Imperium that would never fall. Three weeks, just three weeks left." He exhaled slowly. "That's how long the Imperium has to live, after that day we are as good as dead."

Sa'goth spoke up. "Sir, the humans have said they won't wipe out our race, we will live beyond that point."

"But not our government, that will not be allowed." Gar'shan said. "They will install a new puppet government, try to break our race and make us into pets or slaves. We can still choose our own fate, even at this late stage we have a choice. We can live as slaves and jokes, or we can die in defiance."

He let the words settle in.

"None of us in this room will see the end of our world, in three weeks we will be dead fighting for Omelos and with us dies the secret of our unstable sun and our ultimate fate."

"Our enemies could scan the sun and find the same information." Sa'goth suggested.

"They might, but they may not recognise the pattern or be too busy to investigate." Gar'shan answered. "Or may not care, deciding to simply let it happen and let the galaxy get rid of us from its presence. According to Sha'dur there would be no noticeable indication of disaster until minutes before it happened. I believe he is right on this."

"The humans I expect would try and help." Dar'sen said.

"And are least likely to know." Gar'shan countered. "We tried to make a place in the galaxy, but it was not to be. We have no place here, this is not our time, we don't belong. So we leave."

"So that is the end? Our whole race gone, all we've done, all we tried to do? All for nothing?" Dar'sen asked. "I don't accept that."

Gar'shan broke a smile. "Neither do I. This is not our time, but it doesn't mean our time will not come again."

He leaned back in his chair.

"My first act as Supreme Warmaster was to order a massive increase in the number of cryo tubes. Our initial plan was to put as many people as we could into these tubes and leave them in stasis loaded on sleeper ships and sent out into deep space, there to wait until we found a new home. Ultimately we managed to build a fleet and invade the League instead, the sleeper ship idea was dropped, but I made sure the cryopods were not destroyed. We still have them, millions of them."

Dar'sen smiled along. "A fall back plan."

"We don't have any vast colony ships, our resources went on warmachines instead, but normal freighters will do. We still have some of those don't we?"

"A few sir." Sa'goth said. "Probably enough for several million souls."

"Start preparing them." Gar'shan said.

"Jha'dur prepared a list of individuals to be sent to our first new colony as part of the evacuation." Dar'sen reported. "Those she deemed most worthy of survival."

"I trust that list, she was intelligent enough to select the best of us." Gar'shan nodded. "Contact the people on it, gather them and put them in cryo sleep."

"Yes sir."

Gar'shan found himself energised, the situation was a disaster, a shattering of all his hopes and dreams yet from within it he had found a chance, a thin sliver of possibility that promised somehow, someway the Dilgar could survive. It wasn't much but it was now the only goal he had and he devoted himself entirely into making it real.

"They will need escorts." He considered. "Select some ships from your fleet Dar'sen, the best."

"Yes sir, but shouldn't I be focusing on defending Omelos?"

"Omelos is the past, we must defend our future above all else." The Supreme Warmaster replied. "I'll arrange for cryopods for your crews, let them survive and keep our martial tradition alive beside the civilians."

"Very well sir."

"The Alaca Garrison." He moved on. "Strength?"

"Five hundred ships under Tor'han sir." Sa'goth answered. "Low quality, but a few have some skill."

"They will hold Alaca as long as possible, regardless of losses." Gar'shan ordered. "Try to buy more time. Same for the Tirrith fleet."

"Understood."

"We need to give ourselves time. Omelos will fall, nothing can stop that now." The Supreme Warmaster said plainly. "But we can give our race a chance to survive. That is our objective, as it has always been."

"We'll give them the fight of their lives sir." Dar'sen affirmed.

"I don't doubt it." Gar'shan nodded. "Captain Sa'goth?"

"Sir." The officer replied.

"I find myself lacking a true head of intelligence to replace Len'char. You are just the acting chief are you not?"

"That is correct sir."

"Not anymore, you are a Warmaster now."

Sa'goth burst into a surprised smile. "Thank you sir, I won't fail."

"It may only be for a few weeks, but you are still a Warmaster and it is because you have earned it through merit, not political favour."

Gar'shan stood, the other two following suit.

"You all have jobs to do, dismiss." He stated. "We have three weeks gentlemen, three weeks to save our species. Don't waste a single second."

The two men, Warmasters old and new saluted and then left, Gar'shan standing and watching them go confident they would do all in their power to succeed. They were people he could trust, and he deeply regretted all his Council had not been like them.

He remained standing until the doors closed, at which point his knees finally gave way and he fell back into his chair like a bag of bricks. He had not shown it but he was empty, despairing and beyond grief. He had a job to do, a people to save and he would not rest until that job was done, but it was a distraction, something to focus on to hide away from the truth of the situation.

There was nothing left for him, even if by some chance the sun did not explode it would not matter, anything that meant a damn to him was dead and gone now. He had nothing worth living for.

He dug his nails into the desk and let slip his mask, bellowing out a yell of pure grief and anger, a cry that filled the high ceilinged chamber but could not be heard outside. He poured all his emotion and feeling into his voice, let go of his innermost pain and let it slip away in one long exhultation of heartache

When it was done he was a weak and frail old man once again, unable to stand or move for nearly half an hour, but when he did finally move it was with the purpose and confidence of a Supreme Warmaster leaving doubt and regret behind him. He didn't have time to dwell on his loss, there would be time for that after the next three weeks were done.

He left the room as he had found it, in blood soaked silence never to return to it again.

Tirrith Star System

Dilgar occupied space.

The Abbai had been freed, and it was a moment that had transcended mere joy or ecstasy. They had been the last of the great League powers to be reached, their home being so close to Omelos it was at the limit of the Allied advance and had held a nominally stronger than usual Dilgar garrison. The planet had been placed under a total siege much like the Hyach, no word had gotten out and no ships had been allowed to land. Frequent raids and attacks kept the Abbai off balance and focused on defensive operations while the Dilgar focused their efforts elsewhere.

As elsewhere it had turned out that the Dilgar strength had been greatly over estimated. The once strong garrison had been pillaged to replace losses on the Drazi front, then to match the human attacks, and then finally to bolster Jha'dur's last great throw of the dice. None of those ships had ever come back leaving the garrison actually outnumbered and greatly outgunned by the Abbai themselves.

Like the Hyach the Abbai had sheltered under their defence and grid and built up as many ships as they could to bolster their protection. Their satellites and massive stations were, like all Abbai facilities, focused on defence and as such were well equipped with shielding to keep the Dilgar at bay, but proportionally less offensive weapons. The Abbai had been safe behind their walls, especially as the Dilgar garrison was bled away, but never tried to break out themselves not knowing if there was actually any one left out there. They had sent a few ships to run the blockade but had never heard from them again.

It was therefore with unbridled joy that they recognised that the first ship to enter the system was in fact the last ship that had left it. The Cruiser Syontar, battered, burnt and scarred from its long exodus and the hard fight back through the League in the face of stiff Dilgar opposition. The ship was given a heroic welcome, the Dilgar defenders easily brushed aside by the taskforce and retired to Alaca to put up a harder fight later. The planet celebrated as never before, the threat of annihilation was lifted from them and finally they could once again breath free air.

They saw what they had dreamed about for so long, a fleet of ships from every League world united and fighting together along with squadrons of Earth warships. For so long the Abbai had tried to unite the League, to draw it closer and weld it into a single united front to face opponents. At the start of the war they had failed, but now at least someone had succeeded.

Ambasador Itala and her aide Kalika, two individuals who had done so much to raise awareness of the danger posed by the Dilgar across the galaxy, were met by the Natar herself, the ruling monarch of the Matriarchy who shared warm words with the diplomats. The entire crew of the Syontar were given a royal audience and by the end of the day the Natar had firmly put herself and her fleet behind the human led war.

The day after Abbai warships linked up with other League forces and moved quickly to their next target.

Hamato had split his fleet into two groups, each one large enough to deal with any Dilgar threat that might come their way up to and including a full attack by Dar'sen. He retained command of the first group made up almost exclusively of Earth Force ships and accepted the task of liberating Alaca, the first world to fall to the Dilgar and their last crucial resource world outside of their home system. It was well defended and expected to be a hard fight.

The other force was an amalgamation of the remaining League forces under Grand Master Valna of the Markab, an officer Hamato considered to be the most flexible and practical in the League. He commanded a menagerie of ships from Vree saucers to Brakiri and Abbai cruisers right up to two dozen Hyach Dreadnoughts. It had an incredible array of abilities and was able to handle anything thrown at it, but only if they could find a way to utilise their strengths and cover each others weaknesses.

That had been the main reason Hamato had taken human ships out of the equation. It was a test for the League forces, a practice so they could coordinate their different tactics, doctrines and protocols with each other and try to form a coherent fighting force without relying on Earth Force. It wouldn't be long before they hit Omelos, everyone knew that, and before that happened Hamato had to know his League forces were going to meet expectations. After the failure of the Drazi fleet command at Omelos and the sudden addition of two large and mostly untried fleets in the form of the Hyach and Abbai Hamato had to make sure his League allies knew how to fight smart and weren't going to display any flaws or weaknesses that a good officer like Dar'sen could counter and exploit.

Tirrith was their proving ground, an attack against a Dilgar fleet and defence network but not on the scale of Omelos. If something went wrong it wasn't going to cost them dearly and they could take their time, analyse their weaknesses and come up with ways to counter them. It was a battle designed to make them act like a team, a single united fleet so that when the assault on Omelos came Hamato could leave them to attack the planet itself while Earth Force was busy bringing down Dar'sen.

It would be the first time the League had operated together like this, a historic occasion and one Valna had no intention of turning into a debacle.

"Tirrith beacon ahead." Battle Priest Alini reported.

"Then it is time." Valna nodded, stood tall behind his command station. The semi circular station was more like a pulpit than a command station, though it did bear the expected display screens and functional buttons. Hung around it were embroideries bearing the symbols of the Markab race and his own elite forces, the Military Order of the Blessed Sword. The Markab Military Orders were very similar to the ancients Knights Templar and Hospitalier on Earth being religious priests and monks who had taken up arms in the cause of protecting pilgrims and holy relics. They had stood vigil over the space stations located in areas of space considered holy or guarded temples and shrines on colonies.

When the Dilgar attacked they joined forces with the standing Markab navy and vigorously opposed the invasion. It was a true holy war, a test from the gods and their bravery proved unfailing. However their cousins in the Navy, while brave were also foolish believing the might of the gods would protect them from Dilgar weapons. It didn't, and casualties were massive. The Military Orders did better, taking the belief that the gods had given them their mastery of arms for just such an occasion and it was through their skill that the gods favoured them. They fought well and hard, but were too few to save their race from annihilation, only the arrival of Earth Force did that.

The Markab saw the intercession of humanity as a gift from the gods, that Earth would be the holy instrument that would lead the forces of light to victory. Without question they joined the human fleet, and as senior living officer Valna took command which perfectly suited Hamato.

The Markab had never once wavered in their support for Earth and readily accepted every decision Hamato made, no matter how dangerous it appeared. They had embraced human tactics and proved themselves extremely resourceful and creative in addition to their bravery and stubbornness. It was not always a good thing, and many Markab ships still died unnecessarily, but under Valna they had shown their true value to the Alliance.

"Activate jump engines, inform the fleet we go to battle."

His flagship, the Paragon of Virtue, was first into the system, a sea of disruptions forming all around heralding the arrival of the rest of the Liberation forces. Their formation was not perfect, and it took them longer than desired to assort themselves into an appropriate deployment, but it was far more controlled and coordinated than anyone would have expected from such a force just a few months earlier.

The battlefleet aligned with the planet, Abbai ships at the front to draw fire and use their shields to soak up damage. Brakiri ships formed the main battle line, assorted cruisers of various sizes and types deploying into a standard wall formation. Sheltering behind them were the heavy hitters, Hyach warships ready to provide long range fire support from the shelter of their allies. Nimble Vree and Markab ships prowled the flanks ready to respond to any dangerous enemy tactics or to pounce once a vulnerability in the Dilgar formation became apparent, and finally hordes of Cascan fighters emptied from their make shift carriers and mixed with the other integrated airwings.

The united League fleet was ready for its combat debut, just in time for the war to end.

Opposing them was a light Dilgar fleet built around a few general purpose cruisers and destroyers but consisting mainly of Frigates and scouts. They were a poor match for the massive League fleet and their warmachines, but prepared for action anyway. They had orders direct from the newly restored Supreme Warmaster himself, Gar'shan's sudden return an amazing event which had caught the spirit of the whole Imperium. It had brought a fresh wave of hope to the beleaguered military considered by many to be a sign that things were going to change. Their visionary leader was back in command, the man who had masterminded the glorious victories of the early years would now mastermind the salvation of Omelos. Everything was about to change for the better.

Unfortunately not even Gar'shan could turn the tide. The trinity of the Dilgar military, Gar'shan, Dar'sen and Jha'dur had not been successful in creating a plan or strategy to beat the advance. Jha'dur had come close, but where she failed no one could succeed. Their one hope for victory was gone, those senior officers who still lived were well aware of this. The war was over, but the fighting would continue.

The Dilgar would delay the allies as much as they could, a great battle was coming, the last battle the Dilgar would ever fight and while they could not win a victory they could still earn glory. They could show their true colours one last time, beaten but unbowed. They would fall, but would never be broken. Their code demanded it.

The ships at Tirrith and their comrades at Alaca would be the first line of defence, their sacrifice the first stages in the final campaign of the war. Both sides knew it, both sides knew how it would end, and both sides knew the Imperium would still fight to the death.

"Dilgar forces moving to engage, two hundred targets." Alini said in dour tones.

"Just two hundred?" Valna asked for clarification.

"Confirmed." Alini parroted the human phrase, one of an increasing number of Earth terms that had been adopted into League naval circles. "Enemy ships advancing in loose order, fighters are on point, warships vectoring on the Hyach positions."

It was a brusque and to the point report that a human Captain would be proud of.

"Going for our biggest ships, just as expected." Valna grunted. "It's suicide, but if they can take one or two Hyach heavy ships with them it will be worth it. We're going to stop them."

"Orders sir?"

"Deploy fighters." Valna ordered. "Let the enemy warships get closer before we pounce."

"Yes sir."

"Hyach ships can fire at will, everyone else standby for point blank salvo fire."

His directions filtered electronically through the fleet, translated into a dozen languages and dialects as the multi planetary force responded. Cascan fighters broke from their parent ships, accelerating forward and arming their ion cannons. Joining them, albeit at a slower pace, came Brakiri and Hyach interceptors that had proven themselves to be fairly resilient little craft despite the clear superiority of the Dilgar Thoruns. The Abbai contingent had not brought any of their fighters, the light weight craft being among the worst in the galaxy. They were content to let the other League powers provide fighter cover while they held fast on the front line with an assortment of cruisers and frigates.

Slowly the fleet of Brakiri warships moved, raising like a curtain to clear the fields of fire for the Hyach ships waiting behind. It was slower than Valna wanted and in doing so the Brakiri formations lost a lot of cohesion, something a well trained opponent would instantly pounce on. Fortunately the Dilgar ships they were facing did not seize the moment and proceed towards their primary objective, a sure sign that the skilled and pro-active officers that had once filled the Imperium navy were now all but extinct.

Valna observed the Brakiri forces realign themselves, wincing at the gaps in the formation and the lazy efforts to correct it. They had all come a long way in the past year or two, their officers and crews tested in hard battles, but there was still plenty of room to improve. By this point if they had been fighting Dar'sen or Jha'dur the Brakiri fleet would be half dead, blasted to scrap and the entire centre of the League force would be in the process of collapsing. The lack of professionalism unfolding before Valna's eyes could have killed them all and it had to be fixed before they moved on Omelos. It was a sobering thought.

There was a spike of energy, and then with a blazing flash of light the Hyach spinal lasers delivered the first shots of the battle. A series of long deadly beams reached out with unfailing accuracy and removed a significant chunk of the Dilgar cruiser force. The impacts were as deadly as they were swift, melting clean through the enemy ships in an instant, snatching them away in a concentration of energies that the weakly built cruisers had no hope of repelling.

The Dilgar pushed on, flying past the gas clouds and molten fragments and holding course. Unskilled as they might be this fleet was certainly brave and did not flinch in the face of such power. Dart fighters closed in on their opposite numbers, lining up on the Cascan and Brakiri craft before engaging with missiles and bolt fire, a reminder of the past glory of the Dilgar fighter corps.

Bright flashes marked the opening tangles of fighters, some were from the League, others from the Dilgar fleet. The Dart fighter remained a technically excellent fighter but veteran pilots were few and far between. Valna's fleet could boast a number of experienced officers, especially among the Cascor, and those small mammalian pilots tore through the Thoruns with vicious glee earning a measure of retribution for their blighted homeworld.

Several squadrons of Brakiri heavy strike fighters tried to make attack runs on the incoming Dilgar ships with differing levels of success. On some occasions they assault craft would sweep over their targets dropping torpedoes and high density rounds on their targets, bursting open hull plates and sowing fire and destruction in their wake. Other times they were hit by Thoruns, the Dilgar craft effortlessly destroying the strike wing as the escorting League fighters were distracted and separated from their charges. It was one more example of uncoordinated efforts among the League fleets, mistakes that cost lives.

The Hyach fired again, the beams searing through the night and spearing more Dilgar ships, and one or two unlucky fighters from both sides in the process. The heavy weapons began their lengthy rearming process as the Dilgar moved into range of the main League force, the Abbai and Brakiri ships waiting eagerly for them.

"Front line ships are requesting permission to engage." Alini stated.

"Hold fire." Valna responded. "Let them get closer."

The Dilgar ships engaged at maximum range, laser guns and particle bolters spraying energy towards the League forces. Most of it missed, but a few rounds splattered across the Abbai shields in brief glimmers of light.

"Hold fire." Valna repeated.

The gunnery crews on the Abbai and Brakiri vessels waited anxiously, their hands hovering over the activation sequence for their respective armaments. Their computers monitored the Dilgar, counting down the range in rapidly cycling numerals. Guns tracked minutely, turning to follow their targets, the barrels cold and silent as they held back until ordered. Every second racked up tension, every moment delayed pushed the crews closer and closer to losing their nerve. Every hit by Dilgar weapons, every echoing ring of an energy weapon crunching into the hull, of sensor warnings, of the image of the hated and feared ships racing closer without being answered, it built up like pressure in a boiler yet still they held their fire.

Valna still waited, holding his fire until his weapons would be at their most effective, a single massive hammer strike that would break the Dilgar in one spasm of gunfire and destruction. It was also a test of discipline, Valna had to know if his League allies could hold their nerve in the face of the Dilgar and not give in to their fears. Each of the races represented here had suffered significant defeats at Dilgar hands often against all odds and expectations. For many in the League the Dilgar were still bogey men, demons from the sky who were invincible in combat. Earth had beaten them, but that myth of Dilgar superiority was still prevalent among the League. They needed their own victory, to beat the Dilgar with no humans present to shatter this myth and restore to the League navies the most vital thing the Dilgar had stolen from them.

Their pride.

For a third time the Hyach engaged, and that was the moment Valna had waited for.

"All line ships, open fire! All batteries engage!"

The Abbai and Brakiri ships were finally released, the tension expressing itself in a storm of particle, laser and gravitic weaponry. The Dilgar fleet shuddered as the Hyach weapons connected only to find a massive concentrated volley of more conventional weaponry following it up. The Dilgar advance was stopped dead, the forward ships torn to pieces by the vicious salvo of firepower. Hulls ripped and melted, were broken out of shape and smashed by multiple impacts.

Valna nodded in satisfaction.

"Signal the Vree, advance and drive the enemy from the field."

"Yes Master."

"Main force will move on Tirrith and remove any orbital defences." Valna continued. "Then take us forward, all Markab ships will close and engage the enemy at flank speed."

The Allied forces advanced, the main battlegroups gradually closing on the planet while Markab and Vree warships moved in to finish the shocked and divided Dilgar survivors. It was little more than a mopping up operation, the swift League ships raced through the enemy formations and covered them in gunfire, the Vree saucers in particular excelling at this type of rapid strike action. With their formation gone and command chain broken the Dilgar had no chance of reorganising themselves and forming an adequate defence, they were picked off where they stood, one at a time or in small groups. They fought to the last and gave no ground, a further example of the resistance that could be expected at Omelos. At least one rammed a Markab ship that passed too close before the battleground fell still and silent.

"Enemy forces destroyed sir." Alini reported with no evident joy, just satisfaction.

"Very well." Valna accepted. "Move to cover the rest of the fleet as it engages the defence grid, but keep our distance."

"Yes sir."

"We'll let the Hyach deal with the fixed defences, no rush."

Valna let himself relax a little. In pure strategic terms this was a sideshow, the Dilgar had been badly outnumbered and the outcome of this battle was obvious to both sides. Never the less, symbolically this was a great moment. The League had beaten a Dilgar force and was in the process of liberating a world that the enemy had held under occupation for some two years. After so long as nothing but victims and conquests of the Dilgar finally the League had joined to drive them back, and had succeeded without help from Earth. They still had a long way to go, but it wasn't as far as they had already come. With a few changes to their tactics and communication protocols they could iron out the more glaring weaknesses and turn themselves into a very serious force to be reckoned with.

Given the opposition they would soon have to face, they would need every advantage they could claw for themselves.

Alaca

Homeworld of the Alacan Commonwealth

1,705 days of Dilgar occupation

The missile twirled an evasive course, a shallow spiral that burned up three times as much fuel as a simple straight course and vastly affected its range, but allowed it a greater chance of hitting its target. Its purple engine flamed out before it reached its target, but it was close enough and the target big enough to make that small detail irrelevant.

Admiral Hamato barely flinched as the EAS Hannibal shuddered hard, its stern swinging a hundred yards to port as the Dilgar missile punched through the hull in a jet of plasma and shrapnel.

"Direct hit!" His first officer Commander Patel called out. "The inner hull held but we've got heavy buckling!"

He nodded with utter calm, an island of serenity in the shouts and warnings hurling themselves across the bridge of the Dreadnought.

"Pull the fighter screen in tighter, our guns can't deal with missiles and our escorts are becoming saturated."

She quickly entered the commands, the battle computer sending automate dorders to the Hannibal's fighter wing giving them fresh locations to patrol much closer to the great warship.

"Done sir."

"Change course, set guns for medium range suppression fire." Hamato ordered. "Engage by turret, salvo fire. Execute."

The grey block swung slowly around and turned its guns to face the assorted Dilgar ships fighting to retain Alaca, the green hued ships conducting themselves with the same fanaticism as those at Tirrith or Balos. The Earth warship locked on and engaged, firing a two second burst from each turret in sequence rather than a single massive broadside. It delivered less firepower per second but meant the Dreadnought could lay down a constant withering barrage while its weapons rearmed and not give the enemy a window to close and attack the flagship.

The Dilgar fleet at Alaca like the one at Tirrith was mostly light ships with nothing bigger than a cruiser, indeed most seemed to be frigates which were fast enough and nimble enough to largely avoid the slow moving turrets of the massive Nova class ships. While undeniably the most powerful ships in the system the Dreadnoughts were having a very hard time targeting the majority of the Dilgar ships meaning their potent weaponry was largely going to waste.

Hamato had quickly recognised this problem and adjusted tactics to counter it, keeping his valuable heavy ships at range and largely out of the fighting while instead deploying his Corvettes and Cruisers with their more flexible armaments to take on the Dilgar on their own terms. It was working and the battle seemed to be going Earth's way, but not without a hard fight.

"Cruiser squadrons heavily engaged ahead." Patel chirped. "Hostile vessels trying to flank."

"Co-ordinate gunfire with the Saladin and Cromwell, put down a barrage on the edge of our cruisers." Hamato ordered. "Make those Dilgar think twice about that."

The Dreadnought adjusted fire, lining its multiple guns up on the edges of the wedge of cruisers driving hard for Alaca. The Three heavy ships opened fire at the same instant as several Dilgar Pentacans broke from the main body and tried to sneak around the main human formation. The ships intersected the Dreadnought fire with woeful timing, the human guns spearing and slicing into the smaller Dilgar vessels. A few made it through, evading wildly, but they were easily mopped up by the Corvettes.

"Keep an eye on the big picture Commander, we're lacking fast escorts and long range firepower, we have to be on our toes." The Admiral remarked.

Like the fleet at Tirrith the Assault on Alaca was as much a live practice for the attack on Omelos as it was a stand up fight, especially given the large numerical superiority of the Earth fleet. Hamato had a series of tactics he needed to put to the acid test in a semi controlled environment, a battle he could swiftly and decisively end if something went wrong. Like the League the EA ships had become used to joint operations, to relying on League ships to watch their backs or deal with the smaller faster Dilgar ships. Hamato needed to get his men and women to rely only on themselves, to find ways of watching their own backs in exactly the same way he needed the League to be able to fight without Earth.

Omelos was to be a joint operation just like most of the other campaigns, but Hamato's provisional plan involved separating his taskforces into smaller groups optimised for different stages of the offensive. It was risky, and if the Dilgar were smart they might try to isolate one of his task forces and destroy it. Indeed Hamato was counting on this, using his deployment as bait to lure the Dilgar ships from the umbrella of their defence grid, but it did mean that for a while his forces might have to fend for themselves. They had to be ready for it.

At the leading edge of the attack the Lexington was putting Hamato's theory to the test, her guns engaging everything from cruisers of similar size to herself right down to frigates and tiny scout ships. The blue plasma cannons trundled and fired, speaking in bursts of three to five rounds which tended to be enough to finish smaller ships or badly wound large ones.

"New contacts, three destroyers, grid six by two!" Commander Sterns barked. "Fire orders coming in from central!"

Vice Admiral Thornhill, freshly appointed commander of the cruiser forces of the Third Fleet checked the target. The enemy ships were moving away from the Lady Lex and heading for a different Cruiser group. They were however in range and Hamato was ordering several ships to converge fire on them. It wasn't strictly speaking necessary, the targeted EA squadron was easily able to deal with three destroyers, but it was good practice for the gunners.

"Feed data to gun directors, make positive identification of targets and fire immediately."

Thornhill relayed the orders and was pleased to see Sterns comply with swift professionalism, aware that Hamato was probably timing their responses. He linked the transmission from the flagship to the gun directors deep in the ship, the officers there using the Lexingtons own sensor suite to confirm the target and lock her battery of guns on the ships, adjusting for range and speed.

"Guns ready, firing!"

The turrets banged a broadside volley, the slow moving projectiles intercepting the Dilgar warships at the same moments as fire from six other ships. It was a slaughter, the Dilgar having no defence against the combined fire of six ships, exactly as Hamato knew.

"Nice work guns, five seconds from acquisition to fire, I think you impressed the old man."

"Enemy changing formation." Sterns announced. "Admiral, they're running for it!"

Commander Patel noticed it too. "Admiral…"

"I see them." Hamato replied simply. "Deploy Starfuries, destroy targets of opportunity but stay clear of the jump wake. All fleet ships move on Alaca and engage the defence grid at once."

The Dilgar fleet made good its escape, losing a few stragglers to gunfire as the skirmish ended. The cruisers punched out of normal space, one of them shattering violently as a Starfury put a pair of nukes through its hull. Hamato had other concerns though, the Alacan defence grid itself. His fear was not for his own ships, they could handle themselves, but that the Dilgar would repeat the devastation inflicted on Mitoc earlier in the war.

"Readings on defence grid?" Hamato asked sharply.

"Armed and tracking us." Patel reported. "No stations, just satellites, fairly low numbers."

"They never expected anyone to get this far." Hamato surmised. "Never expected to have to hold this place against more than just a raid."

"Satellites are locking on!"

"Increase speed, interceptors free!" Hamato ordered. "All ships will watch their fire, no stray shots hitting the planet."

He grimaced, it would be a bitter irony if an Alacan settlement was levelled by human weaponry after surviving all this time.

The Dilgar defences opened for all they were worth, an impressive enough display that caught the eyes and imaginations of the survivors on planet. It was like nothing most had seen before, the original Alacan defenders had died so fast the battle had been over before it began, but now they could witness the distant spectacle and ask themselves why.

The word spread fast as realisation dawned simultaneously. The Dilgar were under attack, their oppressors, slave masters and murderers were receiving justice. They had no idea who was up there and it didn't matter. Anything was an improvement, Narn slavery, Centauri occupation, even death. Compared to the Dilgar made hell the world had endured it was all a release.

As they sat in camps or some of the few surviving enclaves in hills, deserts and forests they looked skyward, listened to the panic of their guards and rejoiced. They cheered and cried, and even when a few Dilgar soldiers fired wildly into the crowds the cheering did not die out. Finally, finally the liberation had come.

The Hannibal sought to deliver that promise, laser blasts streaking from her multiple batteries as she skimmed orbit, using the gravity well to accelerate her beyond her normal stresses. The hull groaned, still bearing structural damage from Balos, but held firm as if the ship herself knew what would be lost if she fell apart.

The satellites were easy targets, immobile, relatively small and very lightly protected. It was a turkey shoot, the human Dreadnoughts and cruisers easily gunning down the structures while escorts intercepted the Bolt fire. The defences were delivering a lot of fire, but it was dwarfed by the amount thrown back at it. Despite comprising of just a single war weary fleet the EA force was still protecting its reputation for massive firepower and hardy ships. It was also living up to its reputation for slowness.

"We have to remove those satellites now." Hamato emphasised.

"Working on it sir, Dreadnought Divisions are sweeping east to west, cruiser units coming around the opposite side."

"I'm not going to let the Dilgar burn this world." Hamato promised. "Not after it has lasted this long, not now!"

The guns were easily capable of bringing down satellites in one shot, and at such close ranges rarely missed despite the unusual speed of the heavy warship. Debris spiralled from orbit, sometimes tiny showers, sometimes whole sections of satellites. A few ships took hits, but the relatively weak guns had a hard time inflicting damage on the well made human ships.

"Crossing the terminator in five seconds." Patel called. "Picking up Fifth Cruiser squadron on the opposite side, coming into visual range!"

"Come on, few hundred more miles." Hamato willed, squeezing his hand into a fist. He had a reputation as dispassionate, unshakeable, but Balos had badly affected him and his confidence. He had kept his wits, formulated a winning plan and held his nerve, but he would never have the same level of assuredness again. It had gotten people killed and jeopardised the war, he knew this and when this war was over he would have to answer for it.

He needed to win this victory back, to liberate this last world and this last people, to make it all mean something, to succeed.

The forward guns tracked, blasting another two second burst of laser fire at the last cluster of satellites. From the other side, crossing the horizon of Alaca was a trio of Hyperions spitting blue fire at the same targets, knocking out more of the defences. The gunfire crossed over, slicing down the last couple of satellites in unison, and then crossing by each other in slightly different orbits.

"Got them!" Patel cheered. "Satellites down!"

"Break orbit and decelerate." Hamato ordered. "Set up a perimeter and give me a full scan of the planet."

"Aye sir, co-ordinating scan now."

"Signal General Dayan, inform him we're clearing away the last defences and we're ready for his assault forces."

As before the Dilgar had left a substantial garrison on the planet, though this one was smaller and less hard bitten than the Balosian occupation. As a core world most of the soldiers were political appointments and stormtrooper units which despite the intimidating name were actually weaker than the regular Dilgar infantry. They were concentration camp guards, murderers and torturers not true soldiers and the men and women of the Earth Alliance Second Army group were out for their blood.

Stormtroopers were fanatics and would never ask for mercy, which was fine by Earth Force. After their crimes they could expect none.

This would be their first operational deployment, a full scale landing of a quarter million soldiers along with thousands of vehicles ranging from tanks and artillery to gunships and utility trucks. Earth had displayed an amazing proficiency when it came to massive planetary assaults especially given the fact there had never been any doctrine or even training for such an action before this war.

The First Army Group was still on Balos recovering before heading home, acting as a nearby reserve in case the Alacan assault ran into trouble. It was not expected, but Hamato was past taking chances.

Scores of ships entered the system, Assault cruisers, troop ships and auxiliaries loaded with the weapons of war under heavy warship escort began a steady journey to Alaca while the ships of the Third Fleet established a perimeter.

"Admiral, scan complete." Patel announced. "I read approximately seven hundred million people located in four hundred and eleven camps globally."

"Seven hundred million." Hamato exhaled. "Out of a pre war population of billions."

"Sensor show massive impacts at the centre of road networks, presumably where cities once stood." She reported grimly. "Luckily toxins in the air are quite light, the Dilgar didn't want to poison the planet."

"Just smash it and then strip mine it." Hamato snarled. "Approximately how many Dilgar are down there?"

"About four million. Most are in new built cities, I'd guess workers and contractors rather than soldiers."

"Slave drivers." Hamato clarified, fighting the urge to simply nuke them from upon high. "If they are civilians we'll round them up and let the war crimes tribunals deal with them. Anyone in uniform, well we leave them to the army."

"I have four main Dilgar bases of a clear military nature." Patel said. "Located away from Alacan locations."

"Very well, raise Vice Admiral Thornhill and have her assign cruisers for bombardment. Assume orbit over those bases and turn them into glass bowls."

Patel began to send the message when her sensor board suddenly lit up.

"Admiral, nuclear detonation!"

"Location?" Hamato demanded. "Did we miss a weapon installation?"

"It's not in orbit, it's on the planet." Her voice grew very weak. "Another one, another. Oh my…"

She put the image on the main screen, the surface of Alaca pricked by small lights and flashes, tiny from orbit but thousands of feet wide on the surface.

"They're not missiles, we'd have spotted them, intercepted them." She said emptily. "Bombs, suicide bombs, they're under Dilgar cities as well as Alacan centres."

There was nothing the fleet could do, no teams to send down, no weapons to shoot, no command centre to destroy. In an act of pure spite the Dilgar self destructed the last Alacan infrastructure, a smaller and less impressive display than Mitoc but no less searing and tragic. The nuclear weapons, dirty and primitive by modern standards did their job in the densely packed camps and ghettos. The Dilgar pressed the final button, killing themselves and taking the planet with them.

Hamato said nothing, feeling a cold anger and accepting it, nurturing it and saving it for later. It had been for nothing, the battle, the satellites, all of it had failed to save this world because of one foul trick. The Alacans had seen salvation, felt it, and had it snatched away from their grasp by their oppressors. Oddly Hamato felt more enraged at that act then he did had the years of brutality leading to it.

Truly this was a war that needed to be seen through to the last.

"Stand down General Dayan's forces." He ordered in his same trademark monotone. "Have him prepare rescue teams and relief efforts, not an invasion."

"Yes Admiral."

"I'll be in my quarters reporting to Earth Force command." Hamato unbuckled his seat belts. "This was the last obstacle, last world to be taken. None of the other minor colonies matter now. It's just Omelos, and then we can put this bloody affair behind us."

He pushed himself away from his chair.

"Just Omelos."

As the fleet settled in orbit and began sending relief teams one large vessel made for the surface, skimming the dust strewn air until it came to a plain, the grass blowing beneath the landing thrusters of the battered military vessel.

The engines died and powered down, settling on fat landing pads and restingon the soil of Alaca, the first allied ship to do so. From the belly a ramp extended, a point of light on the cloudy world that morphed into a small group of humanoids who walked down the ramp and paused at the end, their boots still on the steel.

Commander Lelant could not move. He had taken his ship, the legendary Pyrotinia on an exodus unseen in history. His was a long, lonely mission constantly hunted by the Dilgar and ignored by the races of the galaxy. His ship was the last of the Alacan navy, and now quite possibly the last organised group on the planet. He had warned the galaxy of the Dilgar and what they had done to this world, but they did not listen. If they had untold lives would have been saved, untold worlds spared genocide, untold races would still live today. Maybe even his own.

This was the second time he'd seen his world burn.

It was a moment he had dreamt of, setting foot back on Alaca. A part of him believed it would never happen, but the hope that it one day would kept him going for those long years of evasion and pursuit. In the end they had freed his world, he had drawn together a coalition of worlds that had the Dilgar stood on the brink of defeat, but it was all for nothing. Alaca burned, even at the moment of liberation it burned.

There would be some survivors, maybe enough for a viable population, and they would need leaders. He had spoken for his people alone in the League since the fall and now Leleant would do so in the rebuilding. Like Balos Earth had sworn to aid them, and Lelant believed them, but he could not celebrate, not after witnessing what he had witnessed.

He lifted one foot and slowly, reverently put it on the soil of his homeworld. He stood on that most sacred ground for a full four seconds before dropping to his knees in a wash of emotion, a mix of joy and relief and pain and unbearable despair. His world was free of the Dilgar, but not before they had striped away its future.

The last League world had been liberated, the Liberation Navy had fulfilled its mission. Now there were no more places to rescue, no more lives to free or enemies to drive back. The Dilgar had nowhere else to go and the Allied fleets were preparing to converge on their last major holding.

It wasn't about liberation, it was about ending the Dilgar threat forever, and the grim ships of the Earth, Drazi and League navies were ready for it.

So were the Warmasters.


	99. Chapter 99

97

Balos

Earth Force Jurisdiction

A new star had risen over the Balosian horizon, a moving point of light that travelled at a different rate compared to the more familiar and ancient orbs worshipped and pondered over for generations. This star was much closer to Balos than the others and was made not from burning gas but from metal and plastics. Its light came from reflections on its surface, and any observer with a decent telescope could look up and perceive its true nature.

From orbit it was much easier to classify, the almost trademark ring structure of an Earth designed space station rotating steadily about a central hangar bay as Belt Alliance construction teams put the finishing touches in place. Small space suited people dotted the metal ring like orange lichen on a rock as they attached sensor plates and sealed the final welds and seams along the hull, giving integrity to the last few un-pressurised areas even though half the station was already filled with supplies and personnel.

Over the large hangar bay entrance a small team was affixing a large plaque, their torches burning bright blue in the darkness as they attached the final bolts. The sign was written in plain English, and simply read 'Welcome to Liberty Station' in large silver lettering.

It was the penultimate Dionysus station, the pre-fab starbases Earth had used to secure their supply lines across the gulf of League space and give the worlds they liberated a functional spaceport immediately instead of waiting months or even years for the League to construct their own replacements. It had taken a mere four days to assemble this particular base from the ready made sections towed into place by bulk freighters, a new record. A sister station, the actual last of its kind, was being assembled at Tirrith under the name 'Freedom Station' to fulfil a similar role for the League forces operating there, and to facilitate aid operations to the recently freed planet below.

Admiral Hamato had read the briefings and was well informed on the matter at hand, not that he had enjoyed it. The war had taken its toll on the man and many others like him, it had been so long since he had seen home and family it was beginning to fray. Like many others he clung to one simple and obvious piece of information. It was almost over.

The shuttle clamped down on the docking pad and was whisked away through a series of lifts and conveyers into the heart of the station and into the pressurised docking bays. Hamato left the shuttle, made his way out to the transport tubes and settled down as the gravity began to take hold, increasing as his small elevator descended relative to the docking bay and arrived in the habitation ring.

He took a deep inhalation just before the doors opened, summoned up some energy to cover his low state, and stepped out of the lift to be greeted by Agent O'Leary of the EIA.

"Mr O'Leary." Hamato raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be on Earth recovering?"

The young man paused, a little surprised by the question. "I err, well, it was never an order sir, just a suggestion."

"You spent over a month on Balos living underground being hunted by Dilgar Spectres. You don't feel a need to take a break after that?" Hamato asked. "The war is all but over Mister O'Leary, no one could blame you for going home early."

"I know, but Heather… I mean Agent Laney is staying, and I wouldn't want to leave her out here by herself."

Hamato flickered a ghost of a smile. "Admirable devotion."

"Also sir, I don't want to leave the job unfinished. I'm part of this war effort, I can't go home before its finished. I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Hamato nodded. "Very well, is the briefing set up?"

"Yes sir, Heather already brought together the League and allied Admirals, including a Drazi officer caught on Sshumssha, man called Shala'dan."

"Former General and Ambassador to the League." Hamato recalled the name. "A practical man by all accounts, should be easy to work with."

They walked the short distance to the conference room, the walls and doors of the station still bare metal and undecorated.

"Keep your notes available." Hamato said. "I'll want an update on the Dilgar disposition."

"Yes sir."

Hamato opened the door sternly and walked in without a further word, the assorted officers in the room standing up as he arrived.

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and colleagues. This will hopefully be our final meeting as a council of war. When we meet again like this it will be to discuss the terms of surrender with the Dilgar Imperium, and formally end this war which has blighted our Galaxy. Please, sit down."

With a scrape of chairs and bustle of fabric the dignitaries took their seats, a mix of political and military figures from across the Allied worlds that had run this war since the beginning. The council had grown over time, from just humans, Vree and Markab officers to include representatives of each liberated world. Today they were joined by a Hyach Admiral named Borako who would be commanding his world's fleet in battle alongside the rest of the Liberation Navy.

"First my Congratulations to Cashik of the Abbai on her promotion to Admiral, richly deserved." Hamato announced, drawing a round of applause for the familiar officer. "And on her official assignment as commander of the Abbai expeditionary force."

He took a drink of water and began.

"The Liberation of Tirrith went well, my compliments to Grand Master Valna and all League officers involved in the battle. You displayed a professionalism and skill to be proud of, and showed your courage has not dimmed. Tirrith itself suffered heavily under Dilgar rule, we estimate four fifths of the population has been exterminated but the survivors are buoyant and still have a strong will to live. Aid is already flowing in and my Government is confident we can restore Tirrith to independence within a decade."

He exhaled.

"The situation on Alaca is more grim. As you by now know the Dilgar detonated several hundred nuclear bombs before we landed destroying most of the infrastructure and remaining population centres. These bombs were particularly heinous weapons, our analysis shows they were optimised to release the maximum fall out for their size creating massive radioactive contamination of habitable areas. It is our optimistic appraisal, that less than a million Alacans remain alive in the galaxy. Perhaps as little as a hundred thousand."

The room held a moment of solemn silence.

"Commander Lelant will lead his people from now on, but for obvious reasons could not join us today." Hamato informed. "His role in this war is over, and we will never meet a more brave or determined individual."

He sat back in his chair and looked to his side.

"Agents Laney and O'Leary, Dilgar status if you please."

Heather took the lead, speaking clearly and comfortably despite the importance of the individuals focusing their attention on her, something Francis envied and respected. He still found himself nervous around authority and found himself smiling at the ease in Heather's delivery.

"With the fall of Alaca we've managed to push the Dilgar back to their pre-war territory." She spoke pleasantly. "Their home system and four minor colonies. Two are close to Drazi territory, two are close to Abbai space, but none of them interfere with jump travel to Omelos itself."

"What do the Dilgar have at these bases?" Admiral Thornhill enquired.

"Nothing." Heather stated. "No ships, no fighters, no starbases, negligible defences. We estimate a total colonial population of less than five million total."

"Pretty small." David Sheridan remarked. "Strange given how expansionist the Dilgar are?"

"The colony worlds are barren and inhospitable, pretty resource poor to boot." Heather explained. "Most live underground or in domed colonies, they'd be incapable of supporting a true large scale population."

"Our strategy is to bypass these worlds and mop them up later." Hamato declared. "We don't need to waste time and resource son them when they are incapable of disrupting our operations. We'll deal with them after we force a surrender."

"Are we positive the Dilgar will actually surrender?" Itala asked. "Looking at how they have fought, it seems the military would rather kill the civilian population then let them fall into our hands."

"It matches Dilgar culture." Francis stepped in. "However we know of elements within the Dilgar hierarchy who no longer support this part of their heritage and want to make a break. If we give them a chance, they'll assume control of Omelos and agree a surrender."

"You have that on good authority?" Sheridan asked.

"From a very high placed member of the Dilgar hierarchy." Francis smiled. "I trust him, his information is good and he is not proud of what his people have done. He wants a better future, and he tells me he isn't alone."

"Why haven't these people moved before now?" Admiral Broma asked.

"They were on one side, Jha'dur was on the other." Francis shrugged. "Would you try to speak out against Deathwalker?"

Broma took the point.

"A question." Cashik raised her voice. "With Jha'dur gone who is in charge of the Imperium?"

"That's where it gets interesting." Francis explained. "For a time we thought Dar'sen would be in charge. We were actually hoping for it. As far as Dilgar go he's a moderate and we were optimistic we could talk him round to a surrender. However recent intercepts suggest that the Supreme Warmaster is back, Gar'shan."

"The man who started this whole war." Shala'dan snarled.

"For a long time we thought he was dead, but looks like he got better."

"Gar'shan won't negotiate." Hamato stated. "He's the living embodiment of the Dilgar martial tradition, he'll fight to the death. To achieve peace we have to kill him, open a vacuum of power and hope the moderates can seize control of the planet."

"That's going to mean knocking out the entire Dilgar military, all organised military forces. Ships, bases, defences and trop formations on the ground." Heather stated. "This is essentially a coup by people with no guns, we have to make sure nobody can stop them."

"Which means large scale planetary bombardments." Francis said. "But precision strikes, energy weapons and tactical nukes, not strategic weapons."

"So Earth still insists on not wiping out Omelos?" Broma grunted.

"We do." Sheridan answered. "And anyone who 'accidentally' destroys a major population centre is going to see their aid from Earth cut down to a trickle."

"We're not here for revenge." Hamato said. "We are professionals, and no matter what we've seen and what we feel, we keep our heads on our shoulders and restrain ourselves."

The assembled officers agreed, some more grudgingly than others.

"We have been asking the Dilgar to surrender for the past month, they have made no reply." Hamato said plainly. "They will fight, and you can bet they will fight hard."

"They can't win." Broma dismissed. "Why bother?"

"Because they are still soldiers, and it is all they can do." Shala'dan stated.

"They've made their choice to fight." Hamato agreed. "Hope doesn't matter anymore, just fighting with honour and dying with dignity. They are a skilled and inventive opponent, we have to be ready for anything."

"We estimate between fifteen and seventeen hundred Dilgar ships waiting for us." Francis said. "The bad news is most of those are from the Third Strike Fleet, a true elite force. They also have the best tactical commander in the Imperium commanding them in the form of Dar'sen, and one of the master strategists of history overseeing the preparations in the form of Gar'shan. You can hate him for what he did to your worlds, and what he allowed Jha'dur to do, but from an objective point of view the man is the best Grand Strategist in recorded history."

"What about fixed defences?" Valna asked.

"Excessive." Francis admitted. "We've seen it operating first hand, it took apart a Drazi assault almost effortlessly and that was only a portion of the defences fighting conservatively. When we show up it'll be suicidal, they'll throw everything they've got at us regardless of the cost. It'll make that Drazi assault look like a firework display."

"Fortunately we have the numbers, capabilities and, with all due respect to Shala'dan, the discipline to take the defence grid with minimal losses." Hamato outlined.

"No offence taken Admiral." The Drazi nodded. "I am good friends with Stro'kath and agree with him when it comes to our strengths and weaknesses."

"Our plan is to move into the Omelos system in three distinct waves each with their own objectives." Hamato began to lay out. "The first wave will be under Admiral Broma and will consist of the main Brakiri fleet as its core joined with the Vree, Descari and Cascan forces. You will also have half the Abbai fleet for screening purposes, and half the Hyach forces for long range firepower."

He activated a holographic map of the system.

"Your objective is the jump gate, the main strategic target in the area. Seize it and hold it, we'll need to bring through supply ships and withdraw battle damaged vessels through there. The Dilgar will be expecting this, you can expect to meet heavy resistance."

"We'll be ready for it." Broma said confidently.

"Once the gate is secure detach your Abbai and Descari ships to hold it, then link up with the second wave here."

He zoomed in on an area of the map closer to Omelos.

"The second wave will jump out here and will consist of our main combat strength. I will lead it in person and bring along the entire Earth Expeditionary Force joined by Admiral Ferguson's Sixth Fleet and Warleader Stro'kath's Drazi forces from Tithalis. Our objective will be to engage Dar'sen and the remaining ships of the Dilgar fleet in a full fleet battle and destroy them utterly."

Hamato scrolled through a list of ship names assigned to the second wave.

"This is likely to be the most difficult and bloody element of the battle, therefore I am deploying my best combat vessels here. It becomes easier with Admiral Broma's forces, which is why I need you to take the gate fast, then come and join my forces engaging Dar'sen."

"Of course Admiral." The Brakiri officer indicated sincerely.

"By attacking the gate first I hope to draw at least a portion of the Dilgar fleet out to meet you." Hamato stated. "Then we can catch them in a pincer movement when the second wave jumps in."

"We will not disappoint Admiral."

"I believe you." Hamato confirmed. "Once the Dilgar mobile forces are dealt with we move onto the defence grid, and the third wave."

He highlighted an area much closer to Omelos, a few hundred thousand miles away.

"The final wave will consist of the second halves of the Abbai and Hyach fleets escorted by the Markab under Grand Master Valna. I've given the Markab this role for two reasons, first your forces took massive losses at Balos and are still working up, but more importantly the third wave will act as a reserve force. If something goes very wrong I'll be relying on the Markab to fight us a hole through any trouble."

"Your trust will not be misplaced." Valna affirmed. "Whatever the cost, we will do our part."

Hamato accepted with a nod of respect.

"The third wave will be responsible for engaging the Dilgar defences. This is not a time sensitive matter, simply stand off, use the superior range of the Hyach weapons to pick off satellites and stations, and watch out for fightes and rogue ships. By this point organised resistance should be crushed and the previous two waves can join and support the final destruction of the defence grid."

He zoomed in on Omelos.

"The final act is removing the Dilgar ability to wage war and force a surrender. We need the moderates to take command and have pinpointed several facilities that need to be destroyed, mostly military bases and command complexes."

"Admiral, if I may." Cashik spoke. "My government has ruled out any Abbai participation in a bombardment. We will engage ships and satellites, but will not fire on the surface itself."

"Even after all they did to your home?" Broma shook his head in surprise.

"The Natar was very specific." Cashik said. "We will oppose Dilgar aggression and their forces of terror, but no more. We also fully support the Human initiative towards granting self rule to a new Dilgar civilian government, and oppose any occupation."

The Brakiri representative stifled a scoff, but kept his peace.

"I understand." Hamato nodded. "This is more a job for Hyach and Earth ships anyway, the final plan will take this into account.

Cashik lowered her head. "Thank you Admiral."

Itala remained silent.

"We will engage military targets first, then war factories." Hamato shared. "Finally, if the Dilgar still resist, we will begin engaging civilian infrastructure with precision strikes until they accept a new government and formally surrender."

"And if we run out of targets before they run out of defiance?" Broma asked.

"Then we blockade them and make sure they never rebuild." Hamato said. "We do not, under any circumstances, target population centres or any target that will lead to massive civilian deaths."

"As you wish Admiral."

Hamato let the image of Omelos circle over the desk, a photograph of their target, one soon to be glimpsed for real.

"That world is the last thing standing between us and our homes. We go in one week, detailed plans will be distributed to each command. You are all capable of fulfilling this mission, you have the ability and the determination. The tables have now turned, the Dilgar are the ones scrambling to throw up defences around their homeworld. Remember we are not them, and they are not us. History will judge us all by our actions in this battle. Dismiss."

Mars

Earth Alliance Space

David Sinclair savoured every bite of his dinner, every texture and mix of tastes that slid from his fork. After months of ration packs and meals eaten through a straw having this before him, real home cooked food, it was as clear a signal as any that he was home. He had already eaten several meals since coming home, but the novelty was unlikely to wear off for a long time yet.

He took his time, sat at the dining table in the family home with his wife Gemma sat opposite him, and his two sons Jeffrey and Malcolm on either side. It was a little formal, usually they would eat swiftly and relax in the living room watching television or working on school projects, but because the head of the household had returned and asked for a real family dinner, they had of course obliged.

"Wonderfully done sweetheart." David placed his knife and fork on the empty plate.

"I made it the old fashioned way, in pans on a cooker." Gemma smiled. "No re-heat bags here, not on such a special occasion."

He'd been home for a week, but it was still a cause for particular celebration.

"What's for dessert mum?" Malcolm asked expectantly.

"Chocolate pudding." She replied. "That I'm afraid I didn't make, came in a tub from Morton's hypermarket."

"Chocolate Pudding." David repeated with relish. "I had dreams about Chocolate pudding."

His wife stood and headed for the kitchen. "I bought the unhealthiest stuff I could find!"

"That's why I love you." David called back. "You make a good housewife!"

"Enjoy it while you can, I'm back at work next week!"

She returned bearing a tray laden with sweet goodies for the assembled family, each glad and eager to make a start.

"Spoon down." David said sternly as Malcolm made a move. "Wait for your mother."

Gemma took her seat, and all eyes turned to the head of the household.

"Alright squadron, fuel up."

The two children got stuck in, while David made sure the experience was committed to memory.

"How is work?" He asked conversationally. "Still at Mars Central?"

"Only place that will have me." She smiled back. "I was asked to appear on a documentary."

"One that will be shown in public?" David raised an eyebrow.

"On ISN." She nodded. "Seems I'm regarded as an authority on my subject."

"Who would have imagined people would be so interested in Twentieth Century culture?" He laughed, quickly back tracking. "Except of course for you dear."

"Nice try." She chuckled. "You'd be surprised how much we owe to that century, maybe you should come and take my course? Mature student?"

"And have you tell me what to do during the day as well as when I get home at night?" David joked. "At any rate, I'm more of a Nineteenth Century aficionado."

"You were on the news too dad." Jeffrey spoke up. "You made it onto the main ISN broadcast."

"Oh really?" He expressed interest. "And I thought nobody knew about my secret identity fighting crime."

Malcolm giggled, still in junior school and a big fan of superheroes. His older brother smiled a little but considered himself too grown up for such simple jokes.

"It was about the war, they said you were the best scoring plot in the conflict."

He tilted his head as he devoured some of the chocolate. "Technically, second best."

Jeff looked almost shocked. "Someone outscored you?"

"A Dilgar pilot." Sinclair said. "Of course he had a dozen months longer to rack up a tally than I did."

"Do you know who it was?"

"I met him a couple of times, damn good pilot."

"Did you get him dad?"

David nodded. "In the end. We linked up on the ground, he's a nice guy. Quite chatty when you get to know him, speaks perfect English, like your mother."

Jeff frowned. "So you didn't kill him then?"

"That's not the point." David said firmly. "We're fighter pilots up there, we go out to stop them hurting our people. To stop them sometimes we have to kill them, but that isn't our purpose. If we can put them down and keep them alive that's good too."

"I've seen pictures of what the Dilgar do Dad." Jeff said angrily. "They deserve to die."

Gemma tutted. "I told you not to watch those late night reports."

"It's only the truth!" He defended. "I need to see the truth, I want to know what it's like!"

"I'm out there fighting, all of us are, so you never have to know what it's like." David said quietly. "I don't know what the news tells you here, but don't be fooled just because we're at Omelos in less than ten months. This war is a lot closer than it appears just looking at the end results. Nobody wants to be out there, only those with a deathwish."

"The Dilgar are evil, look at how many people joined up the day after the war started!"

"But how many do you think joined up because they wanted to fight evil, and how many joined up to protect their families from becoming victims like the League?" David said. "You don't get idealists on the front lines, the Drill Sergeants set them straight on day one of boot camp. You need to be out there fighting for the right reasons, you have to keep your priorities straight. If you don't, if you lose your grounding… well that's the fine line between soldier and killer."

"The Dilgar are killers."

"Most of them, yes they are." David confirmed. "They are out there fighting for the wrong reasons and that's what it does to you. But not all of them, some are good, decent warriors, and some of our people are nothing more than thugs with guns."

"But we're not like them." Jeff said. "No way."

"That's the thing, we're not like them in general, and they aren't like us. But that's not because you were born human and that automatically makes you good and them bad. Our worlds, Earth and Omelos, they evolved very similarly, we're about the same age, we had plenty of wars and advancement, developed similar technology at the same time. But somewhere along the line humanity chose to turn down one path, the Dilgar took another, and a couple of centuries later here we are shooting at each other."

"I don't believe it dad, we could never be like them, never."

"I've seen Dilgar just like us, and humans just like them." David relayed. "It's easier than you might think. But I've also seen people change in front of my eyes, go from stone killers to warm friendly people. Doesn't matter where you were born son, or what nation you live in, it's all inside. That's what makes you who you are, good, bad, evil. You make a choice."

"It's not that simple dad." Jeff said in exasperation.

"It really is son. From Deathwalker to the President to me and you. There's always a choice, and there's always consequences."

"The Dilgar are living those consequences right now." Gemma added. "Are there any good Dilgar?"

"I didn't think so, not until I actually met one." David answered. "They are out there, we just have to hope more of the population chose to lead life that way."

"We should nuke them." Jeff grunted.

"I thought you were taking classes with Jesuit priests?" David frowned. "What would they say to hear you talk like that?"

"What they did is unforgivable!" Jeff snapped. "If they tried to wipe out my homeworld I'd go out there and throttle them all with my bare hands!"

"Forgiveness is as much for you as the other person, letting go of anger inside that will destroy you."

"You sound like a priest Dad, not a fighter pilot."

"Everyone gets religious when you have particle bolts passing six inches from your head." David allowed. "You should always forgive, just never forget. You'll lean that one day."

"They don't deserve it."

"Maybe, maybe not." David said. "But you can't make that choice. I know Dilgar, I've met them, spoken with them and fought them. Best way to know someone is to fight them, to push them to breaking point and see how they react. Strips away all pretence and all the masks and fakery people put on. You see someone in battle, you see the real person. I've seen Dilgar stripped of all that, and they are just as brave, just as scared, just as determined or apathetic, just as hopeful or despairing as anyone else. They can be changed son, they can be friends to us."

"No way, not ever!" Jeff retorted. "So even if there are good ones, most are torturers and murderers and should be sentenced to death! I know the League want it, so do most humans I speak to."

"Saying it is one thing, doing it is another."

"I'd do it." Jeff said. "I'd push the button."

David sat back and looked at his son, the young teen meeting his gaze proudly. David took note of that, secretly a little pleased his son was taking a stand despite being in the wrong.

"Would you kill me?"

"What?" Jeff asked uncertainly.

"Would you kill me, right here and now?"

"No dad, that's just dumb."

"Why?"

"Because you haven't done anything."

"Bingo, I'm innocent of war crimes or whatever. But what if a Dilgar is behind me? What if Jha'dur herself is right there over my shoulder and to kill her, you have to go through me. Would you?"

"I…"

"Okay, lets say ten Dilgar criminals are behind me. Or fifty, make it a hundred. Would killing those hundred be worth it, if I died in the process? What is an innocent life worth in the face of revenge?"

Jeff looked down at his empty plate.

"Don't feel bad son, people older and supposedly smarter say the same thing. People in government. I've seen things I can never talk about, things on Balos, atrocities that will stay with me forever. I know guys, soldiers who went in on the ground on several worlds who saw much worse than I did. But I don't hate the Dilgar, and I don't think they do either, not anymore after the heat of battle has worn off. You can hate what they do, and hate the ones who did it and support it, but when you see that some of them are good and just as horrified by what has happened in their name, then it all gets much more complicated."

He finished his pudding.

"A lot of people think that's a weakness, a softness in a warrior. The Dilgar don't have it and they think they're better than us. But exactly who is kicking arse, and who is experiencing a severe pain in their pants right now?"

"They're losing." Jeff agreed.

"We're not weak for looking at all sides of the picture son, if anything it helps us fight because we understand clearly why we have to win. The Dilgar are told to fight, through tradition or culture or rigid duty to their superiors. Earth made a choice to fight, to protect our homes and families, to liberate innocent people suffering by the billion. That's why we're winning this war, and why the rest of the galaxy is respecting humanity now. The Dilgar will fight to the death because they can't say no. We'll fight to the death because we made a choice."

He cleaned his spoon and laid it on the plate.

"Just try to keep an open mind son, believe what your instincts tell you before anything else. If you want to lead soldiers one day in a Squadron of your own, instincts are your best asset. You've got a conscience, you have feelings, use them. There's nothing in your heart or head that you don't need, it's all there for a reason."

He stood from his chair.

"You're excused boys, run along and do your homework."

The two children left the table and departed into the house, leaving the parents alone.

"I think that's the first ethical debate I've had with my kids." David sat down. "When did they get that smart?"

"Jeff's been watching ISN almost constantly." Gemma said. "Looking for reports on the war, trying to see if you were involved."

"Checking up on me?"

"Making sure you weren't dead." She corrected sombrely. "You gave us a scare when you were posted as missing."

"I can imagine." He accepted. "It was almost worse."

"I don't want to know." Gemma waved her hand. "Whatever it was like out there, I don't care. You're back now, that's enough."

"It kept me going, making it home."

"Bloody well had better!" Gemma said sternly. "I'm not doing this alone."

"You did a good job, Jeff definitely has your brains."

"And your stubbornness, he's a terror in school."

"How so?"

"The usual, arguing with teachers, getting into fights." She sighed. "They blame the lack of a father figure."

He scoffed at the assertion. "They do know what I do for a living?"

"They do after I yelled at them for twenty minutes and made them put on ISN for some of your gun camera footage from Markab."

"You actually lost your temper?" David raised an eyebrow.

"It shut them up, and as Jeff is the son of an official war hero they are going easy on him, but they have a point." Gemma said. "He worships the ground you walk on, he wants to be like you, but all he's got are a few letters and a few videos of a Starfury from the news."

David nodded his head. "Well I'm owed a lot of leave, maybe we should have a trip somewhere. I know Captain Tennant, I bet he'd enjoy a tour of the Nemesis."

"Go talk to him." Gemma nudged. "Do the male bonding thing, then later I want some quality time of my own."

David took the mission, he didn't have much choice. As a direct order from his wife the consequences of a refusal would be worse than a court martial. Much worse. He trod up the steps and knocked on his eldest son's door.

"Jeff, got a minute?"

He opened the door.

"If your worried don't plan on nuking Omelos anymore."

David smiled widely. "Not an issue son, grab a chair, we're going to have a chat."

Jeff turned a little red. "No offence, but the do teach us that stuff in school. The boy meets girl thing."

David cleared his throat. "That wasn't on my plan of action actually son."

"Alright." Jeff stepped aside. "But if this is going to get awkward, or if you say anything about a bird or a bee, I'm gone."

"Saved me a tough job too." His father took a chair beside his son. "Course they can teach you the mechanics, same way they can teach a monkey to fly a Fury. But the real secret is technique, separates the boys from the men. Also you need to get there first, you need…err… clearance from CiC before you can initiate docking manoeuvres so to speak, and…"

"Bloody hell dad, not the time!" Jeff said quickly. "I've just eaten!"

"Right." David retired. "And when did you start swearing?"

"Reflex."

"Right." He accepted. "I forgot about this view, big window."

They sat staring out, looking up into the night sky crossed by the metal struts of the dome enclosing them. Like most Martian buildings it was airtight if required and the rooms windows were tough enough to take a bullet, but the clear view beyond was like standing outside.

"You can see the spaceport outside the dome." Jeff informed. "And there's usually a ship going over, I saw a Dreadnought today through the telescope."

"That's the Nemesis, she's unloading crew before going into dock for a major refit." David said. "Poor Joe, he barely gets that thing fixed when some Dilgar battlefleet takes it apart for him again."

"That was the Nemesis?" Jeff shot up and trained his telescope. "That ship is a legend, and it's right overhead!"

"She took out Jha'dur you know? Good old Lady Nemesis." David grinned. "You know, Joe Tennant and I are good friends… maybe I can get you a tour up there?"

Jeff looked at him in awe. "Really?"

"Just pray nobody important spots us sneaking aboard."

David looked around the room as his son watched the Dreadnought in low orbit. It was a normal enough room for a fourteen year old, a few posters of female pop stars showing their midriffs, some charts David had brought back showing warship profiles and recognitions, plus a squadron of small model fighters, the most prominent of which was a Nova Fury in his fathers colours. It made David smile a little.

"Like my posters?" Jeff asked slyly. "I caught you grinning at Sally Synth, mum would shoot you."

"Sally Synth?" David regarded the scantily dressed pop star adorning the wall. "You know in my day singers had proper names."

"I don't believe you said 'In my day' during a conversation."

"My right as a father." He said. "Still, nothing wrong with an interest in girls."

"Dad…"

"Just saying, I'll leave it at that." He resolved. "So, how's school?"

"Boring."

"I hear you found ways to make it more interesting."

Jeff sighed. "I only meant to put one portion of laxative in Mr Demear's coffee, not the whole bottle. It wasn't my fault."

"That's actually news to me." David answered.

"Oh, so they don't know it was me?" Jeff perked up.

"Doesn't sound like it." David said. "Never mention it again. Oh, and don't do it again either."

"Copy that dad."

"That's what mud hogs say, those pilots who get given Valkyries or Banshees because they can't handle a Fury." David informed. "Proper pilots say 'Confirmed' or Roger that' sort of a classic."

"Got it dad." Jeff nodded. "Have you seen my certificate?"

He looked around. "Where?"

"There." He pointed beside the bed, at a coloured and framed piece of paper taking pride of place by the bed.

"Is that a flight training certificate?" David looked more closely.

"Only simulated." Jeff explained. "They had an open day at the base and let us try out some of the simulators, the ones real trainee pilots use."

"I remember, pretty good actually, almost like the real thing…" He paused. "You got a One forty seven?"

"Yeah, the guy who ran it seemed pretty impressed, but one forty seven out of a thousand ain't much."

"Son, they score it out of one fifty." David shook his head. "Bloody hell Jeff, I only got One Sixteen on my first simulation! There are guys flying now who aren't that good!"

"Oh." Jeff blinked. "That's pretty good then."

"With that score you can pretty much be guaranteed a Nova straight out of training. My wingman has a score of One Forty Two and he made it through some serious furballs. This is a big deal son, much as I hate to admit it you might actually make a better pilot than me one day."

His son looked back out at the airbase. "I want to be a pilot. A Fury pilot."

"You've got the skills, and I know you have the instinct. You'll make a good Squadron Leader."

"What you said earlier, about Drill Sergeants weeding out people with attitude…"

"You haven't got that sort of attitude." David said. "You get angry, but we all do, and you are still growing up."

"What if I'm not fit to fly?"

"Based on those scores I bet the Navy has already printed your name on a fighter and is keeping it ready for when you enlist."

"Can I join your squadron?" Jeff asked.

"You can probably lead it!" David laughed. "By then I'll be promoted and away, make some space for the young topguns to take over."

"They'd kick you out?" Jeff complained. "That's dumb, you're the best pilot!"

"Maybe, but with no war to fight what do I do? Besides, I'm ready for a change. I'm going to take a local posting. Training command back on Earth, sharing some of the new tactics my boys and girls cooked up."

"So you'll be closer for mum?"

"And the rest of us too." David nodded. "Keep you out of trouble!"

"Yes dad." Jeff smiled.

"That school costs a fortune, if you get kicked out I'm deducting it from your allowance." David said gruffly. "And it will bad on your application to the Academy."

"You're right."

"You don't have to change who you are, just be measured in how you deal with things." The older Sinclair said. "What happened with these fights your mother told me about?"

"Nothing, some kids tried to pick a fight with me, because they saw you on the news."

"Oh?"

"They wanted to know if I was as tough as you." He shrugged. "I didn't mean to break his nose."

"It was very wrong." David nodded. "But nice shot, showed that bully what happens eh?"

"Yeah." Jeff grinned. "He turned over a new leaf. Once he stopped crying like a big sissy."

"Don't tell your mother, but I did the same thing, and my dad gave me a shot of brandy to celebrate."

"Do I get some brandy?"

"Don't push it."

David suddenly stood up. "Wait there a minute."

He left the room and shortly after returned carrying a cloth bag. He returned to his seat and drew Jeff's attention.

"You know the family history, about how your ancestors have been flying since somebody invented aircraft?"

"Yeah, I remember the stories."

"Well before someone invented aircraft we still found ways to get into trouble. Your mother calls it a 'Need for Speed' after some twentieth century cultural moment she uses in class."

He opened the bag and removed a book, a very old looking but still well kept volume about the size of a decent paperback.

"Wow, looks pretty old."

"Certainly is." David nodded. "Sure you can read things on the Galaxy net, but a book is a book and much better. For one thing it doesn't use electric and push up my power bill."

He carefully handed the book to his son.

"Now my father gave me that at about your age, and his father did the same before him. Take a look on the inside cover."

Jeff carefully opened it up, trying not to strain the yellowed pages. Inside there was an inscription written in elaborate and ancient handwriting.

"There's a message inside."

"Read it."

Jeff squinted at the writing. "To Leftenant Reginald Sinclair of Her Majesty's Seventeenth Lancers, never shall the glory fade. Alfred Lord Tennyson, June 1865."

"That book is an early printing of Tennyson's work, he was a Nineteenth century poet and he gave that book to our ancestor all those centuries ago with that inscription."

Jeff carefully closed the book, holding it with nervous reverence.

"As you can guess, it's worth a lot of money." David informed. "But it's worth more than that to us, because in that book is a poem Tennyson wrote about the Charge of the Light Brigade in the Crimean war, and part of that brigade was the 17th Lancers."

"The unit in the inscription?"

"Precisely, Reg Sinclair was part of that Charge and survived, and that was why he was given this book some ten years afterwards."

"So that's what we did before we had planes?"

"That's right, we had to risk our lives in other ways." David agreed. "That book is history, but it's also a guide. Inside there you'll find only words, but words to live your life by."

Jeff looked at the book. "What if I damage it?"

"You won't." His father said. "I've got a new edition I keep with me, well not so new, I bought it when I was fifteen so I didn't hurt that one. You should do the same thing, but you have to read that one at least once. Think of how many fathers and sons and mothers and daughters have held that, read those same words on those same pages. It's yours now son, but let your brother look at it when he's older, right?"

"Okay dad."

There was a knock at the door followed by Gemma's voice.

"David, call for you."

"On my way." He stood. "Don't forget what we talked about Jeff."

"I won't."

David smiled. "Now get some reading down, or I'll stay and share my best chat up lines."

He was still grinning as he left the room and came back downstairs.

"I'd call that a success." He quickly embraced his wife before heading for the video phone. "Who's on the line?"

He activated the channel and found his answer.

"Commander Sinclair?" A uniformed man addressed him.

"That's right."

"I have bad news, all leave is cancelled and your squadron is being recalled to duty."

Sinclair kept an even composure. "I was informed we were being stood down for rest and refit, my unit has been in action since the first day of the war."

"We are aware of that, unfortunately the defences at Omelos have turned out to be stronger than anticipated. After Balos we are running short of qualified pilots and need every experienced officer that can fly back in the cockpit."

"Those orders are confirmed?"

"Three times, they come straight from the top."

"Very well."

"We need to leave tomorrow, report by eight hundred hours to the spaceport, a transport will be waiting."

"I'll be there, Sinclair out." He didn't need that last sign off, but he was already slipping back into the habit.

He turned away to see his wife looking at him with her arms folded.

"Not going to happen Dave."

"I can't say no to the Joint Chiefs honey, call to arms and all that."

"You are not going back out there, you got shot down! They have to let you rest!"

"I suppose they changed their minds."

He moved for the door, grabbing his kit bag from the wall it was leaning against. At once Gemma blocked his way.

"They can't do this to you."

"They already have." He replied.

"You've been fighting this war since it started, why can't someone else do it? Why can't another pilot lead the Squadron?"

"Because it's my responsibility, and I can't let my people go without me."

"Tell me no one else can do this! Tell me and mean it!"

He paused. "I have to go and lead the squadron. It has to be me. If I don't show up lives could be lost."

"What about your life, you barely got back in one piece last time!"

"But I did, and I will again." He said. "Most of their fighters are gone, we already wiped out their elite squadrons. I'm probably not even going to see action."

"You are a poor liar, and I'm a teacher! I can spot lies at five thousand yards!"

"I'm going."

"Look, just walk away, just go!"

"I can't."

"Tell them you have a back problem, inner ear imbalance, anything that grounds you! Pretend to be mad! Just don't get on that ship. Don't leave us again."

He rested a hand on her shoulder gently.

"You knew this is what I did, it's a choice I made."

"Its your tradition to be a pilot, follow in the Sinclair family footsteps." Gemma scorned. "Just like the Dilgar have their tradition, you have yours to."

"It was my choice." He said firmly. "Not all Sinclairs are fighter pilots, Malcolm hasn't shown much interest."

"But Jeff will be, you know he will." She said. "One in each generation takes to the sky, but how many don't come back?"

"I'm coming back."

"You can't do this to us, you can't come home and then just leave again."

"It won't be for long, the war is almost over." He reassured. "A month at most."

"This isn't right." She said more quietly. "It shouldn't be happening."

"I know." He agreed. "But I'll be home by Christmas, there's no way the last attack will last past October."

"Promise?"

"On my heart."

She sighed. "If you're late I'm coming out there to drag you home, and the whole fleet won't stop me."

"I can't imagine they'd dare try." He grinned. "I have got nine hours you know."

She nodded. "Better make them worthwhile then, ready to listen to my introduction to Twentieth Century Mass Media?"

"Maybe a little later." He leaned in. "Make that a lot later."

Omelos

Gar'shan gave a curt nod. "Proceed."

"I am honoured to report the League counter attack has been turned aside." The immaculate figure before him said with clear happiness. "I was able to rally our forces and am preparing to launch a full scale counter offensive into Drazi space."

Jha'dur broke into a little smile.

"From our forward reconnaissance we know the Hurr fleet is on the run, I will pursue and destroy them, wipe out their naval forces and launch a punitive strike against their homeworld. We don't have time for a major assault on the Hurr, but I predict we can inflict moderate casualties on them, two to three billion fatalities over the course of an hour or so."

Gar'shan kept his eyes locked on the slender female as she stood there proudly.

"I have to commend Dar'sen for stemming the Drazi tide and holding Tithalis long enough to prepare this counter attack, and your son Dal'shan distinguished himself in combat. I'm attaching a full list of commendations, I've noticed several officers who should be considered for a fast track promotion among the Strike Fleets."

She raised her chin.

"With this front stabilised we can resume our primary offensive against the final League worlds and establish our dominance of the sector. I have a preliminary plan for your approval regarding the Vree, however I strongly recommend caution regarding the Markab. I advise bypassing their territory, they are no threat and I am still greatly concerned with a power known as the Earth Alliance that…"

Gar'shan heard a sharp knock at his door.

"Suspend programme." He ordered, and Jha'dur froze in mid sentence, her holographic image flickering momentarily before resuming a life like appearance.

"Who's at my door?" He spoke into a microphone, his words transmitted outside by a speaker.

"Warmaster Dar'sen, reporting as ordered sir."

"Very well." He recognised the voice. "One minute Warmaster."

Gar'shan rose from his chair in the middle of his living room, his thin frame shivering a little as his muscles baulked a little at the effort. His long period of illness had caused his muscles to wither and weaken and it was going to take a long time to rebuild them, time he would likely never have. He wasn't overly concerned, his mind was still sharp but he did have to be careful not to display any frailty in public.

He walked up to the image of Jha'dur, an old report she had made a year ago and saved to the archives. A full year ago, such a long time and yet such a short time too. He could remember that time clearly, especially as there was a long gap where he remembered nothing. He could recall the day the report was made, the day his forces had turned the great Drazi counterattack. It was a highpoint of the Imperium, the day when everything was going right and nobody expected the war to last more than another couple of months. They were confident, over confident even, and Gar'shan was forced to admit he had become caught up in that spirit of conquest himself and made a bad decision.

He had been against the invasion of Markab space, but when the Council voted in favour he went along with it. He should have challenged them, he should have tried to convince the neutral members not to vote with Len'char's cronies but stand by Jha'dur's assessment that such an attack would provoke Earth to war. He had not done so, Earth had launched its own offensive in response, and now here he stood at the twilight of his Imperium.

"It was not to be." He said quietly staring at Jha'dur. "We thought we would rise to be the next great power, but we were wrong. Earth has been given that role, we were just the step they used to get there."

He looked closely at the image, the memory of better times when he still had all he had desired.

"You were to follow in my footsteps Jha'dur, now it seems I must follow in yours. End report."

The image flickered and vanished followed by the lights raising and illuminating his living quarters. His residence had been largely untouched and remained as he had left it, no one, not even Len'char, had dared enter Gar'shan's home for fear of a negative public reaction, and his closest allies had stayed away out of respect.

"Computer, unlock front door."

The series of bolts ground open, like most homes the residence was as much a bunker as a home, a relic of his worlds warlike past. The heavy door swung open with mechanical assistance and allowed Dar'sen to step through, closing shortly afterwards. The fellow leader made his way to the living room, delivering a smart salute.

"Supreme Warmaster."

"Stand easy Dar'sen." Gar'shan replied. "Sit down, tell me about the preparations."

The two leaders took their seats, both in plain blue duty uniforms bearing just their badges of rank. Neither men really enjoyed wearing their full dress uniforms bedecked with gold braiding and heavy bullion epaulettes, though Jha'dur had worn it virtually everywhere. In part it was due to image, but behind that Gar'shan suspected she really rather enjoyed the spectacle.

"Our scouts have detected fleets massing at Baos and Tirrith." Dar'sen reported. "They had largely finished refuelling and were taking on a final round of supplies. They will be ready before the end of today."

"They won't waste time now, I expect they will depart tonight." Gar'shan reasoned. "How long until they arrive?"

"They will be limited by the speed of their slowest ship." Dar'sen said. "Five days, maybe six."

The senior officer signalled his agreement. "Less than one week left to us old friend, not the way I had envisioned ending my command of the Council."

"No sir." Dar'sen nodded. "Warmaster Sa'goth had a suggestion, we should deactivate the local beacons, cut ourselves off from hyperspace."

"It would slow them down, maybe by weeks." Gar'shan confirmed. "They would have to scout local stars with explorers, but they know roughly where we are, they will find us soon. Additionally without the beacons we can't use hyperspace ourselves and our evacuation ships will be trapped."

"That is true sir."

"The beacons remain active, we can only postpone our fate, not stop it. We can't risk any delays to the evacuation, how is it proceeding?"

"The first five ships are already gone." Dar'sen said. "Converted ore haulers packed with cryogenic pods. We simply pointed them coreward and let them go, they whole area is unexplored. With luck they'll skirt Tal'kona'sha space and be in unclaimed space within a month."

The Tal'kona'sha were an ancient race at least a million years old on the edge of Dilgar space. No one had ever seen one, but their territory was vast buffering known space and creating an artificial barrier towards coreward expansion, an effect that had forced the Dilgar to expand rimward into the League instead. Their automated ships destroyed anything that crossed their border, and skirting their vast territory was dangerous and crossed several unpredictable areas of hyperspace. Sending ships around those regions was tantamount to suicide, an act of extreme desperation. It was the point to which the Imperium had now arrived.

"Unfortunately we already lost a ship, a container freighter. She'd been torpedoed by Earth Force and hastily rebuilt, unfortunately not soundly enough." Dar'sen grimaced. "The hull over stressed during the jump and it broke up in hyperspace."

"How many did we lose?"

"Over seventy thousand pods."

"I see." Gar'shan replied flatly. "Could have been worse, much worse."

"We're critically short of vessels sir, our merchant fleet was all but eradicate by commerce raiders from Earth and the League, especially the former Balosian Navy." Dar'sen stated. "We've converted our last cargo ships and are right now dragging freighters out of scrap yards to make them operational. We're cannibalising a dozen wrecks to make one active ship that can survive an extended journey in hyperspace, but accidents will happen sir."

"We're out of other options." Gar'shan said. "When does the next batch go?"

"Six more in two days, these ones heading rimward in an attempt to bypass League and human space and settle beyond."

"How many of these bashed together ships can we have within five days?" Gar'shan asked.

"About thirty, if we're lucky thirty five."

"It's going to be cutting it very close." Gar'shan frowned.

"And we can't guarantee those ships will be fit to fly, we're cutting corners as it is." Dar'sen warned. "On this schedule I'd expect three quarters of them to fail."

"We don't have a choice, fix them up, load them up and launch them. We'll deploy the fleet to cover their escape."

"We've withdrawn all active forces to Omelos, every ship we have is here." Dar'sen reported. "We've commandeered any armed vessel and added them to auxiliary forces."

"What about the suicide units?"

"We have the last batch of Delegor frigates active." Dar'sen said, not hiding his distaste at the nature of the design. "We've also deployed as many shuttles and training fighters as we could find. They are crewed by volunteers and will do all they can to collide with an enemy warship."

"Have they been given ship recognition charts?" Gar'shan asked. "Do they know weak points to aim for?"

"They have been distributed sir, but I can't guarantee the pilots will hold to their advice in action. Most of them are just children, none of them have any combat experience. I know for a fact most have never ever sat in a cockpit before."

"They only have one task to perform." Gar'shan said. "They will do their duty."

"Yes sir."

"None of us will be coming back from this battle old friend, we already know that. All we have to do is fulfil our final tasks, attempt to achieve our objectives, and make sire we die facing the enemy, not running away."

"We've stripped the minefields." Dar'sen continued. "The casings are still there to threaten the Earth and League advance, but they are empty, a bluff. We put the warheads in as many missiles as we had left, the rest are crammed into suicide ships."

"Good, we'll use them where they can do most damage."

"Our satellites and stations are crewed and ready." Dar'sen continued. "And we have fourteen battalions of Marines with breaching pods ready to try and seize or at least sabotage allied ships."

"Very commendable."

"Yes sir." Dar'sen agreed, knowing full well what happened when breaching pods were deployed in such high intensity battles. He doubted any would get close enough to even see an enemy ship.

"Where are we putting our assets?" Gar'shan requested.

"I'm putting Third Strike between Omelos and our moon, Tor'han has five hundred ships beyond lunar orbit drawn from surviving Line fleets and considered reasonably effective, and then we have three hundred garrison ships deployed close to Omelos orbit to support the defence grid. If we sent them out in a fleet action the League would tear them apart, let alone Earth Force."

"We're not going to fight this wholly defensively." Gar'shan said. "We will be aggressive, we will try to seize the initiative, and we will keep them away from the transports."

Dar'sen nodded. "I agree fully sir."

"Keep the Strike Fleet mobile, be ready to respond and engage the allied assault." Gar'shan said. "Hit them hard and concentrate on the League, rip them apart and force Earth to break off and help their allies instead of advancing on Omelos."

"Yes sir."

"Tor'han can do the same, he was upset at missing the final battle at Balos with the rest of his fleet, he can earn a glorious death here instead."

"We expect the Earth and League forces will time the attack to coincide with a second Drazi offensive, this one led by Stro'kath."

"I recall the name." Gar'shan tilted his head. "He's their best commander isn't he?"

"One of the best in the galaxy sir." Dar'sen nodded. "An excellent offensive commander, he could inflict great damage on us."

"So too can Hamato." The Supreme Warmaster remarked in agreement. "We need to engage them carefully, we're trying to prolong the battle, if we take them on directly they will smash us in minutes."

"My people are well trained in this sort of combat sir, striking and fading." Dar'sen informed. "We had plenty of time to hone our skills against the Drazi."

"You will remain in operational command of the fleet." Gar'shan said. "They are your ships, your people, you know how to command them."

"Thank you sir."

"Warmaster Sa'goth can command the planetary defences from the command centre under Black Mountain, I want him on the planet."

"He's requested to stay on orbital command sir." Dar'sen reported, referring to the massive station orbiting Omelos. "It has been his posting since the start of the war."

"I know, but that station won't last long, it will be a priority target. I need him alive until the defences are completely destroyed, he will probably be the last one of us to die."

"Understood sir."

"I will assume command of just one unit, my escort squadron." Gar'shan said. "It will be enough."

The Supreme Warmaster's escort had been the heart of the old Home Fleet, the most prestigious assignment in the most prestigious fleet in the Imperium. In function it was similar to the Centauri Emperors Naval guard of Attack Cruisers or Earth Force One's military escort, but considerably larger and more aggressive. At it's height the escort had consisted of five Pentacans, a full twenty five ships built around five Dreadnoughts. Most of those ships were however long gone, destroyed with the rest of the Home Fleet at Balos, but four Battlecruisers had survived, Tratharti class vessels with elite crews that could give a Hyperion cruiser a stiff challenge.

"On that matter sir, I have found you a flagship." Dar'sen said, a ghosting smile passing his face.

"One of yours Dar'sen?" he asked. "I have no desire to detract from your combat strength."

"Not one of mine sir." Dar'sen replied. "The Dreadnought Deathwalker."

Gar'shan frowned. "That was Jha'dur's flagship."

"She was critically damaged at Markab, almost destroyed. She needed a complete rebuild." The junior Warmaster explained. "She wasn't ready in time for Balos, so Jha'dur took one of the Sekhmets, but the shipwrights tell me she'll be ready by tomorrow."

"The Deathwalker." Gar'shan turned the name over. "Modified Mishakur class, enhanced weapons and armour."

"Yes sir, we didn't know it at the time but the armour is similar to that used on the Sekhmet. Probably why she made it through the Earth Force nuke barrage."

"It will be a privilege to command such a proud ship." Gar'shan intoned. "To allow her to meet her end in fire, an end she has earned, not become a trophy."

"I've put together a crew from surviving Strike Fleet members, those injured before Balos that missed serving one last time with Jha'dur. They are highly trained, experienced, and ready to join their fallen comrades."

"A proud ship and a proud crew. There is nothing more a commander can ask." Gar'shan said. "It will be good to assume a Pentacan command again, it has been a long time since I led ships in battle."

"They have changed a lot sir, but the people are the same, and the devotion to Omelos has never faded."

"Nor will it ever." Gar'shan said with certainty

He was disturbed by an incoming signal, the message read as highest priority. It was rare for Gar'shan to receive a direct message indicating it must indeed by vital.

"Display message." He ordered.

The screen on the table beside him lit up showing newly promoted Warmaster Sa'goth.

"What do you have for me Warmaster?" Gar'shan asked.

"Sir, I have just received a message from our codebreakers, we have managed to intercept and unscramble a secure human transmission."

"Really? I thought that could not be done?"

"Not usually, however this particular signal was sent several times, the same content but with different encryption." Sa'goth stated. "By analysing how the encryption differed we were able to work out the exact pattern and reverse it."

"Admirable work Warmaster."

"This signal was sent through the Gold Channels sir, it carried the highest security, when we decoded it we found out why."

"Go ahead."

"It's the timetable for the assault on Omelos." Sa'goth said. "We know to the second when they will arrive."

Gar'shan took in the information very carefully. "Why would they send this information through communication channels?"

"It was sent to League and Drazi commands sir, they had to share these details to co-ordinate their attack." The head of Intelligence stated. "The channel was secure, they had no reason to expect us to break it. Personally I'm slightly surprised we managed to do so."

"Is it a trick? The humans have leaked information before to draw us into a trap?"

"I don't believe so sir, the encryption was first rate with no evident flaws. I believe it is genuine."

"Very well Warmaster, when will they attack."

"By the human calendar, October twenty third. Five days, at approximately nine in the morning capital time."

"Any mor einformation?"

"Just their fleet strength sir, which we estimated already. The actual plans were sent separately on a channel we haven't been able to break."

"Very well Warmaster, my congratulations." Gar'shan said. "Do not share this information, I will tell all fleet commanders personally."

"Understood sir."

"Finish your duties Sa'goth, I have a new posting for you. Dar'sen will brief you. Gar'shan out."

He ended the transmission and reclined in his chair.

"We were right, five days."

"Not much time at all." Dar'sen nodded.

"For all we planned to do, all we hoped to achieve, all we tried to give our world? No, not much time left."

Dar'sen sighed. "Jha'dur was right, we should have killed Len'char on day one of the war."

"She was right about a lot of things." Gar'shan said quietly. "But she was wrong about one thing."

"What was that sir?"

"She thought we could win."

Dar'sen shook his head. "We were winning sir, right up to Markab, we almost won."

"We were never going to win this war, not in the long term." Gar'shan shook his head. "We could beat the League, build our base, maybe even survive the end of Omelos and build a new home on Mitoc. But our days were numbered."

"With those resources, and that time we could have rebuilt, strengthened ourselves enough to hold back Earth or the Narn, even the Centauri!"

"It is not those that we need to worry about." Gar'shan sighed. "I spoke often with Salasine, with the Drakh. There is a war coming, a conflict waged by powers so powerful and ancient they defy understanding. One day soon we would have to pick a side, everyone who lives will have to, and whichever side we picked we would lose. Either wiped out by the other ancient force, or weakened fighting as pawns of our own side, and then mopped up after the war by the remnants of the Centauri or Earth."

"He might have been lying to you sir."

"No, he wasn't. It has happened before, an eternal cycle, it will happen again." Gar'shan sighed. "Whatever we did our civilisation was going to fall, I hoped against hope it wouldn't, that we could make ourselves strong and feared enough to endure, but after seeing Earth at war I knew we were never going to be the best warriors in the galaxy, and Salasine's masters would abandon us in favour of them."

Gar'shan exhaled a sad breath.

"Our days were done, but those sleeper ships might just give us a chance to come back, to spite fate."

"If we could not win, why did we fight?" Dar'sen asked. "What was all of this for?"

"We fought because we had to, because it is better to die in battle than it is to die whimpering in a corner as the skin is burned from your bones by an accident of nature. If we had done nothing and accepted our fate we would have been a footnote in history, but now, after this, we are history. Our names will never be forgotten."

"Remembered forever with hatred and fear." Dar'sen said.

"But remembered all the same." Said the Supreme Warmaster. "It is not in our character to simply fade away. We are Dilgar, we are a true warrior race, and now we meet our end like one."

He stood and straightened his uniform, adopting a formal air.

"Return to the Fleet Warmaster, make ready for battle."

"Yes sir."

"Earth is expecting a battle, we will not disappoint them." He smiled, recalling something Jha'dur had said.

"We will not go quietly into that good night."


	100. Chapter 100

98

Dilgar Third Strike fleet

Omelos

Homeworld of the Dilgar Imperium

A thousand shapes hung in the night sky, their profiles flat and curved, multiple batteries of guns bristling from the surface. Even now the warships of the Imperium appeared grim and menacing, even after the long war and the string of lost battles they remained defiant, their cannons raised in both a salute to the fallen and a warning to the living. They were a shadow, a veiled reminder of the past when they had held the galaxy in their hands. The great fleets were gone, thousands of wrecks scattered across dozens of systems, millions of bodies wit no coffin and no tomb. This day was the final day of the Dilgar Imperium, and the ships met the rising sun with guns primed and fighters fuelled.

A few final ships left the surface of the planet to join the fleet, gleaming in white light as the sun reflected from the smooth metal hulls. Most were ancient Stinger fighters, precursors to the Thorun removed from scrap yards and museums, little more than distractions for the Allied fighters. The rest were shuttles delivering the final crew assignments, filling the hulls of the fleet with trained bodies from academies and hospitals planet wide. The ships were already fully staffed, but the extra crew would be useful for damage control, or to replace fatalities.

One of the last of the shuttles proceeded with a full fighter escort, three full squadrons of Thorun MK III fighters, indeed the last three squadrons of this late model interceptors. Earth Force had destroyed their production facilities and claimed most of the operational units in combat, this final wing was the last of its kind and was gifted the best pilots Dar'sen could muster. They were good enough and a match for most humans, but they were still below Ari'shan's level. The fighters broke on either side of a Dreadnought and peeled away letting the shuttle touch down in the hangar. It was shifted through an airlock, trundled across to the main cargo deck, and there powered down. Several dozen uniformed people quickly assembled beside it, led by the Ship's captain.

With a clank of machinery the doors to the shuttle slid open and a ramp descended, a pair of dazzlingly uniformed soldiers quickly stepping down and assuming a guard position. Finally, in the doorway the shuttles main passenger stepped out, decked out in the formal state dress of a Supreme Warmaster of the Imperium. By regulation the uniform should only be worn in the presence of the Emperor, though after Jha'dur took it upon herself to create a Republic that was no longer an issue. If it was to be the last time he wore the uniform of his post and people, he would wear it well.

At the foot of the ramp the senior officer snapped an elegant salute.

"Battle Captain Mah'ran." He announced formally. "I hereby surrender command of the Dreadnought Deathwalker to you sir."

Supreme Warmaster Gar'shan returned the salute.

"I accept command Captain, and appoint you Executive Officer."

"I hear and obey sir." He bowed, then turned on his heel and stood to one side. "Parade! Here stands a Warmaster!"

In formal response the gathered crew gave five cheers, deep yells of pride and commitment. The noise echoed in the cargo bay and showed they were in good spirits.

Gar'shan walked steadily forward between the ranks, as he passed each file the soldiers stood straight to attention and saluted, honouring their leader. The old man was joined by his two guards and the Captain, acknowledging each salute and looking every man and woman in the eye as he passed, making that personal contact to demonstrate they weren't just names and numbers to him, but individual soldiers of Omelos.

At last he left the bay, stepped into the lift and headed for the bridge with his entourage.

"She is a fine ship Captain, I understand Jha'dur was instrumental in its design?"

"Correct Warmaster, this ship was custom made to her specifications, it is superior in every way."

"Including price." Gar'shan chuckled. "But worth every penny."

The lift car stopped and allowed the officers out into a corridor leading to the bridge, the massive clamshell doors sealed ahead of them.

"I read a full report on her capabilities, but I will be relying on you Captain Mah'ran, you know the design better than me. I want you to take responsibility for this vessels safety and operations."

"I understand sir."

"Don't be afraid to tell me if you think I am wrong, I'm not an executing officer, not for simply asking a question."

"I will sir."

"My last command was a quarter the size of this ship with a tenth the firepower." Gar'shan mused. "We advanced quickly, we should be proud of that."

"Always sir."

Without warning Gar'shan suddenly pitched over, his knees failing and dropping the old officer to the floor. At once the thre other Dilgar rushed to his aid and picked him up, raising the frail man on their shoulders.

"Warmaster!" Mah'ran exclaimed in concern. "Sir, what is it?"

"Let me go!" Gar'shan snapped at his guards. "Release me!"

They hesitated, the Supreme Warmaster was still unsteady.

"Now!"

The reluctantly did as told, gently letting go of their commander. He shook serously, his legs wavering as if he were about to fall again, but he did not. He willed his muscles to tauten, to support his frame and raised himself up straight.

"I will walk onto my own bridge." He declared. "Even if I do not walk off it again."

The guards took position slightly behind him as Gar'shan carefully put one foot in front of the other, walking stiffly but determinedly to the door and the controls. His long incapacity had weakened him, and his loss had destroyed whatever strength he had inside, but what was left of him was still a Warmaster, and he would act like one for this one final time.

The doors parted, the thick armoured entrance grinding open to reveal banks of monitors and crew manning them. As he steppe don the bridge the command staff at once leapt up and stood behind their stations at attention.

Gar'shan stepped past them, walking on a long slow circle around the bridge making eye contact with each officer. The effort was particularly difficult, but he force dhimself to keep walking and remain upright until he had finished his tour and came to stand in front of the command chair, the same place Jha'dur had overseen the glories of the Imperium, the place he would now oversee its end. She had been his greatest student, his protégé, his daughter. Now he would pay tribute to her memory and her legacy, short lived as it may be.

"Officers of the Deathwalker, I bid you welcome to the Supreme Warmaster Escort Pentacan, an honour you have long deserved, and sadly an honour too brief to savour. We do not have much time to savour anything, the pleasures of our lives are at an end, our hopes must now be put aside and our memories of those dear kept strong and vivid."

He remained standing, his legs burning but not wavering.

"Our world and our race has a strong tradition, a history that reads like a story of triumph and victory over the odds. And when victory was impossible, it was a story of defiance, of men and women who did not yield or step back, but set their faces to the enemy and died bravely, and with honour.

"That story is almost over, we are writing the final pages of it with our words and deeds right now. We will never read this final chapter in our history, but others will. It does not matter who they are, our victims or vanquishers, bystanders or admirers, it does not matter. All that matters is that they read those words, and they tremble at our bravery, and gasp that such men and women once lived in this mortal galaxy.

"The last commander of this ship had a phrase, Survival of the Fittest. She believed that the weak perished, that only the strong could make their own fate and destiny. We have always been strong, and we remain strong today. Our enemy is coming. Earth Force has proven to be our fate, the relentless power that has decided our destiny for us because they prove stronger. That may be, but as individuals we can still determine our own destiny, we can still decide our own fate.

"Decide now officers, take control of your own fate. What happens next is in your hands, to fight and die like legends, or to slink away and fail like nothing. We have been given the last choice a warrior need ever make, we die here to protect the future. Evacuation transports are leaving our world carrying with them our chance of survival, millions of people in stasis setting out to find a world unclaimed in this galaxy.

"This is our battle, this is the sight we now look upon. Our enemies will destroy the world behind us, our home will cease to exist, but if we fight and fight well, our race may have the chance to survive. This is our last line, our last chance, the last thing any of us will ever do. By all that you remember, all you care for and all you believe in, take this moment and make it into something that will last for ten thousand years. This is not simply the last moments of our lives, they are also the greatest. We only have what we carry now with us, and it is enough. We want nothing more than what we already have, heart soul and blood."

He still stood, the agony all but forgotten.

"No enemy will cross orbit while we still breathe. For the final glory of Omelos and the last dawn of the Dilgar Imperium, we will fight! We will stand our ground! We will die as we have lived, as this ship has lived! Signal all ships and fighters, action stations! The eyes of the galaxy and eternity are upon us, give them a sight to remember, now and forever."

Liberation Navy

Approaching Omelos

EAS Halsey

"Well it's…it's…grey."

Bill Hague grinned widely. "You were expecting pink perhaps? Nice shade of aquamarine maybe?"

David Sinclair shot him a sideways glance. "I'm not used to bland."

The two men looked back at the Starfury on the hangar deck, thick cables hanging from its data ports and stretching to the roof like intravenous drips. The warplane sat on its rack, silently prepared for the coming war with its canopy popped up and open like a yawning dog.

"Well it's your own fault boss, if you hadn't tried to land on Balos in your last fighter…"

"Yeah, very funny." Sinclair grunted. "I'd like to see you do better."

"If it was me I'd have used, I dunno, a missile barrage?" Hague laughed. "With nuclear warheads."

"Stop being a smart arse."

Hague exhaled, a faint mist ghosting from his lungs. "Cold in here."

"Must be a problem with the heaters, guess its too low priority to fix."

"I bet." Hague whistled. "Won't be long now."

"Not long." Sinclair agreed. "Shame April still isn't fit enough to join us."

"She'll kick herself for missing the big showdown." Hague agreed. "Still, at least that means its over soon, faster than I honestly expected."

"Same here." Sinclair agreed. "Still too long."

He glanced over the Starfury he had been assigned, bereft of his personal colours.

"Well at least it's factory fresh." Hague followed his gaze. "Isn't worn out from the abuse you put it through."

"That Fury was like a part of me." Sinclair grumbled. "Never mind, but I'm going to need a lot of red paint."

"I'm sure we have some handy."

There was a whine of speakers coming on line.

"Now hear this, jump in six minutes, six minutes. All hands report to action stations, prepare to launch all fighters and strike missions."

"Well that's us." Sinclair said calmly. "Lets suit up."

"Good to have you back boss." Hague grinned. "I was getting bored being in charge."

"It's what I'm here for." Sinclair replied honestly. "Come on, we've got some work to do."

EAS Hannibal

"Crossing the Omelos beacon now." Commander Patel informed with trepidation. "We are within the Dilgar home system."

Hamato acted as if it were a perfectly average and normal event, not the defining moment of his career, and probably the justification for the existence of Earth Force. Never again would the Senate question the validity of the fleet or push forward attempts to focus on defensive measures over warships. The Navy was complicated, cash hungry and in constant need of maintenance and development, yet without it none of this would be possible and the galaxy would be a darker, quieter place.

"Check forward scans." Hamato ordered. "Any sign of mines or ships waiting for us in hyperspace?"

"Negative sir, Hyach and Abbai sources concur. No ambush."

An ambush in hyperspace was one of Hamato's greatest fears. Warfare in hyperspace was chaotic and as lethal to attacker as defender, yet there was a good chance that a suicidal attack could inflict damage far greater than its own numbers would suggest. The gravity distortions and energy currents could focus, twist and enhance weaponry in the swirl of this other dimension, and massive electronic jamming could make beacon locks precarious and result in the disappearance of a significant number of ships. Hamato was more than a little surprised Hyperspace was so clear.

"Why would they pass up such an advantage?" He wondered. "Why is the beacon still active and not blocked?"

"They might want to draw us in?" Patel suggested. "They know they can't win so why prolong the inevitable?"

"An invitation to a glorious battle." Hamato grunted. "Perhaps, or perhaps they need the beacon for their own usage. Are there any Hyperspace contacts at all?"

"Nothing beside us sir."

"Keep a sharp lookout, we might be seeing a number of Dilgar civilian ships making a run for it, taking troops to continue the fight elsewhere."

"They would do that sir?"

"It would not surprise me." The Admiral nodded. "A guerrilla campaign on a stellar level, some future attempt to drive us from Omelos and restore a militaristic government. Gar'shan is not a man to leave himself with no options, he has plans that go beyond today in one form or another."

"He's not going to have much chance of victory." Patel shook her head.

"Victory isn't as important as the act of fighting, not to a Dilgar." Hamato said. "For them the means and the ends are the same thing. But Gar'shan, I don't think he's leaving this system. Even if he is setting up a contingency he won't abandon Omelos, and he won't surrender. He's going to die today and he knows it."

"I don't see what he has to gain by fighting like this?" Patel stated. "Our surrender terms are generous, it's not like we're going to exterminate his world."

"It won't matter to Gar'shan, death before dishonour." Hamato said. "Something I can understand, my ancestors waged war in the same manner for generations, committing suicide before suffering the ignominy of become a prisoner of war. The Dilgar have a very similar code, a way of the warrior, and they will always choose death first."

"The galaxy would be better off without them."

"My people changed." Hamato said quietly. "They can be changed too."

That was Earth policy, to give the Dilgar a chance to change, to give them a civilian administration for the first time in generations, perhaps ever as far as Dilgar history was concerned. They would introduce democracy, give the people at large the ability to decide their fate and not rely on a ruling elite who brandished absolute power. It was a mystery as to whether or not it would work, and whether Omelos might actually turn into a second Earth somewhere down the line. In any case it was better than wiping them out, and while it may take decades or even centuries it was a second chance, and everyone deserved that much.

"Countdown clock is at one minute." Commander Patel stated. "We are almost in position."

"Very well." Hamato opened a comms channel. "Fleet command to first wave, Admiral Broma, respond."

"Broma here." The Brakiri officer replied.

"We are almost in position, are your forces ready to move?"

"We are ready Admiral, all ships are at combat stations and my crews are eager to take this war to the enemy."

"I appreciate their enthusiasm, but remember control Admiral, do not let them get carried away." Hamato warned. "This is a precisely timed operation, we can't afford to lose control of our discipline."

"We will not fail, the eyes of our worlds are upon us and we will not bring shame to them."

"Of that I am confident." Hamato encouraged.

Commander Patel watched the clock reach zero.

"Sir, we've reached position one."

"Admiral Broma, commence jump." Hamato ordered. "Seize the jump gate and hold any counter attacks."

"I accept the honour of leading this attack." Broma said solemnly. "Now justice shall be done for the League, I will speak to you again after breaching the enemy heartlands."

Hamato hoped he knew the difference between justice and revenge.

"Good hunting Admiral, fleet command out."

He switched channels.

"Warleader Stro'kath, please respond."

The growling voice of the old Drazi warrior filtered through.

"Admiral Hamato, we are ready for war!"

"Soon Warleader, follow us to point two and be prepared, I estimate ten minutes until we are ready."

"We will be there." Stro'kath said surely.

"We'll give the Dilgar time to react to the first attack, wait and see what they do, then send in our main force at the appropriate location."

"Then we finish this." Stro'kath savoured. "As it should be, ship to ship, gun to gun."

"It would appear so." Hamato agreed. "Wait until we have more information."

"I judge this a great honour Admiral, for humans and Drazi to fight beside each other at this time." Stro'kath spoke honestly. "We face a worthy foe with worthy allies, fate his smiling on us."

Hamato grimaced. "Let's hope she doesn't have a change of heart."

The bulk of the League forces broke away from the battle fleet and lined up for a jump, smaller vessels clustering around the bigger jump capable warships. The League fleet was a grand conglomeration of vessels, from the sleek and massive forms of Hyach battleships to the tall stately sails of Brakiri Aviokis. Vree saucers whirled into flanking positions, rings of pulsing lights propelling the small but lethal ships along. Abbai warships took the lead, weakly armed but able to absorb heavy damage thanks to their shields and strong hulls, while Cascan fighters filled up the space between vessels with a thick screen of interceptors and strike craft.

Jump points opened, funnels of coloured light and energy emptying out into normal space pouring the assorted warships back into reality with a jolt. For such a massively mixed fleet, a force with designs, technology and capabilities ranging from the primitive sub-Narn designs of the Descari right up to the death dealing Hyach ships of the line the League fleet moved in without a hitch, no collisions, no vessels badly out of formation, no clashes of ego or opinion. They moved as one, aligning swiftly from jump formation to a tighter battle formation, the jump gate and its defences clearly in their sights. They had become every bit as professional and lethal as the Dilgar fleets that had once invaded their own home systems in a similar fashions. The tables now were truly turned.

But unlike the Dilgar invaders, the League were facing a defence made up of elite ships and legendary commanders, and like all predators the Dilgar were never more dangerous than when they were backed into a corner.

"Exactly on time." Gar'shan noted from the bridge of the Deathwalker. "Credit to Warmaster Sa'goth, he found a good note to end his tenure on."

"I have nearly two thousand League ships in that formation sir, possibly more." His new First Officer stated. "If we deploy our full might we should be able to crush them before Earth Force arrives."

"The humans are already here." Gar'shan shook his head. "They are waiting for us to move, poised in hyperspace to leap in and catch us in a pincer, the League on one side and Earth Force on the other. No Admiral Hamato, I'm not going to make it that easy for you."

"What shall we do sir?"

"Patch me through to Captain Tor'han." The Supreme Warmaster said. "We'll give the League something to remember."

"Connected." The officer confirmed.

"War Captain Tor'han, we have come to our final challenge, enemy ships have violated our home system."

"I see them sir." Tor'han replied. The elderly officer was one of Gar'shan's generation of pioneers, an early commander of the Dilgar navy. He had never had the political connections to rise to the War Council and didn't have the necessary amount of charisma or ingenuity to reach that highest of ranks by merit alone, but he was a solid and loyal man respected by peers and held as a father figure by his subordinates. He had been Jha'dur's first commanding officer and had commanded the Home Fleet in the absence of the Supreme Warmaster. He had a strong and sterling service of record, even though he had never truly stepped into the limelight.

"We show two thousand enemy vessels, and several hundred enemy fighter squadrons heading for the jump gate." Gar'shan stated. "I want you to take your fleet and engage them."

"Yes sir, they outnumber my forces four to one." Tor'han said. "I estimate we will be destroyed in approximately fourteen minutes."

"That was also my estimate." Gar'shan stated. "It should be long enough."

"It will be sir." Tor'han expressed firmly. "I will make it long enough."

"A lot rides on your attack Tor'han. We need to draw the humans out, force them to show their plan." Gar'shan informed. "Fourteen minutes is long enough to launch two transports, half a million people."

"I understand and willingly accept." The old officer replied. "My forces are eager and competent, we will hold them and force the League to engage us, not the transports."

"I honour you Tor'han." The Supreme Warmaster related. "The sacrifice you make is not in vain, no sacrifice we make today will be."

"For Omelos." Tor'han announced defiantly.

"For Omelos Captain, launch your attack."

Deployed away from Omelos the five hundred ships under Tor'han powered up and set their course. They were decent ships, most of them had seen action on the Drazi front and were pre-war builds with the better quality of manufacture and design. The moved forward with grimness, aware of their mission, aware that whether the succeeded or failed they would be dead in a matter of minutes. The only thing they had now was to complete their objective, inflict as much damage as possible on the enemy, and accept a warrior's end.

The League fleet was more optimistic, confident of both success and survival as the moved on the cluster of satellites defending the jump gate.

"Coming into effective range." One of the Brakiri officers stated. "Enemy satellites aligning."

Broma quickly relayed his orders. "Send the Vree and Cascan ships forward to engage the defences, Hyach vessels deploy long range support."

"We have an outpost on the far side of the satellites, minor battlestation type."

"Retask the Hyach fleet, make that station the priority." Broma said. "Enemy ships?"

"One group closing on our location." The sensor officer reported. "Main Dilgar force is holding back."

"When we deal with this attack we'll try draw them out for Hamato." The Brakiri Admiral decided. "Turn to engage enemy warships, fire at will."

The League forces parted like water, some elements moving to engage the fixed defences while the main combat elements turned to take on Tor'han. The Dilgar were in a standard attack formation, Tor'han didn't need to turn a flank or force the League into a particular formation, he just needed to close in and do damage. In response Broma assumed a textbook defensive posture with his Brakiri and Descari ships forming the main battleline screened by Abbai cruisers and fighters on the flank.

The darkness was shattered by brilliant light from the Hyach ships, the spinal cannons engaging far outside the range of the Dilgar defences. Half the surviving Hyach fleet was here with Broma, the rest would deploy later with the Markab senior officer in the third wave. The powerful beams pierced the armour of the small Dilgar guard station, shearing away thousands of tons of armour in billowing fire and wreckage. The structure tilted and rolled on all three of its axis' tumbling slowly out of position. Secondary explosions ripped through its hull as the crew simply sat there, unable to fight or escape. A second volley finished it, cracking it apart in a flash of released nuclear power and signalling first blood for the battle.

Cascan fighters were next in action, launching their plasma tipped or nuclear armed missiles at the Dilgar defence satellites, the small installations and their dozen crew members fighting back in kind. Bolt fire and pulsars cut down a number of fighters, long trails of fire and bright flashes marking victories and defeats spreading across the sky. The Vree soon sped in, scattering anti matter pulses and torpedoes in their vicinity with ferocious results.

"Enemy fleet dead ahead!" The sensor officer warned. "Weapons armed!"

"Main guns open fire!" Broma commanded passionately. "Let them feel the anger of our world!"

The battle line erupted in energy, Abbai lasers, Brakiri gravitic bolters and particle cannons from the Descari all added together to strike Tor'han. Scores of Dilgar ships fell, torn to blackened and burning shreds by the intense barrage. Hulls bent and tore, fighters ceased to exist as they were consumed by massive firepower but it did not slow them down. The Dilgar formation held, a few ships swerving to avoid debris before firing back.

Tor'han's ships struck with enviable accuracy, their experience manifesting itself as bolt fire tore through some of the smaller vessels. Several Descari vessels were smashed in seconds, plumes of fire and gas erupting from their broken forms in a spectacular haze of pale light. Brakir light cruisers crumpled and one of the precious Avioki class ships folded as its hull supports were sniped by one of the last of the Tratharti class ships.

But like the Dilgar the League held, no longer nervous or fearful of their enemy they presse don, responding with ever greater accuracy as the range decreased and the two battlelines began to converge, neither side showing any intention of veering away.

The satellites also fought hard, a twisting Vree saucer missing a quarter of its hull revealing they still had the training and accuracy to do damage. A sharp blast of light cleaved through a dozen of the fixed installations as the Hyach move don to engaging the clustered defences, a few other Hyach vessels switching fire to Tor'han and impaling a couple of cruisers.

The two forces clashed violently, Dilgar and League ships passing through each others formation and blasting short ranged gunfire into each other. The Brakiri flagship shook as its hull was punched by several bolt hits, severing a few systems and setting a series of fires that bled from the hull.

"Bring us about!" Broma shouted through the rumble of impacts. "Continue firing!"

One of the Abbai ships broke in two as a series of nuclear missiles were launched at it from Thorun fighters, the blue coloured vessel existing as a bright blaze of light for several seconds until the energy faded. Dilgar ships turned and twisted within the League formation, exploiting their relatively nimble designs and good firing arcs to out fight Broma. It was keeping them in the fight longer than the Brakiri Admiral expected, but it was simply adding minutes to their lifespan, no more.

The flagship caught a destroyer at point blank range, the gravitic cannons coring straight through it with a rippling distortion of light. The Dilgar ship buckled, crumpling in on itself as the gravitic bolts passed through twisting it into a new ship and crushing its internals like a can. Several more Dilgar ships exploded spontaneously as Hyach fire raked them from extreme range and added to the build up of green metal showing Tor'han's losses. The Captain still fought on, skilfully keeping his ships moving and engaging, but it was clearly a hopeless struggle.

Gar'shan remained calm as he viewed the tactical data.

"Still no sign of the human fleet."

"No sir." Answered his executive officer. "We still read an unconfirmed presence in hyperspace, but Abbai disruption ships are preventing us from communicating fully with our sentry satellites."

"We can't launch transports into hyperspace while that fleet is hovering there." The Supreme Warmaster considered. "Begin sending the transports toward the sun, away from the action. They will prepare to jump using their escort warships and their jump points."

"Yes sir."

"The gate is no longer viable, they'll have to risk a more dangerous escape." Gar'shan considered. "But first we must bring Earth into normal space."

He watched the battle near the gate, at the ever decreasing number of ships Tor'han had. The League were holding their own, they didn't need Earth to bail them out, Hamato wasn't going to jump in until he was ready and that did not suit Gar'shan.

"As you wish Admiral, we'll just have to force the issue." He raised his voice. "Get me Tor'han!"

The signals officer did as ordered, patching through to the embattled formation near the gate.

"Captain, it is time to make your final attack."

At the other end of the channel there was the crackle of energy surges and whistle of air escaping through a hull breach.

"Understood Warmaster!" Tor'han shouted over the noise. "Moving to press the attack."

"Tor'han, first I have something for you." Gar'shan spoke solemnly. "I am promoting you Warmaster, a title you deserve and have earned by your undying loyalty to the people of Omelos above all other concerns, personal and professional."

"Thank you sir!"

"Through blood shed, honour gain, bravery displayed and loyalty assured, I hereby promote you Warmaster Tor'han, from now until the end of your days." He sighed. "I apologise that that time is so near."

"It is a great final honour, only beaten by the opportunity to give my life to destroy the enemies of our world!" Tor'han called back. "I must act now Warmaster, while I still can!"

"Go now Tor'han, die a Warmaster."

"Yes sir! I pray you die as a warrior, surrounded by the bodies of your foes!"

"I will." Gar'shan stated. "Of that you can be positive."

Tor'han gave the signal and contracted his fleet, by this time few and far between. Swiftly they broke off and gathered around the flagship, switching targets from the Brakiri force to the far more dangerous Hyach ships hovering near the jump gate. They at once accelerated, one or two vessels falling to Brakiri fire as they pulled away.

"Enemy ships heading for the gate!" the Brakiri first officer said. "They're locking on to the Hyach!"

"Give chase!" Ordered Broma. "All ships break and attack, can we out run them?"

"Not any of the Brakiri or Abbai fleets, but the Vree will get them."

"Stay on them anyway." Broma ordered. "But keep the Hyach gun lines clear!"

The Vree saucers tore away from the satellites, leaving the remaining fixed defences to the Cascan strike wings and instead moving to intercept the approaching Dilgar fleet. A few bolter shots sailed past, ranging shots from the front Dilgar warships checking distance and speed of the approaching Vree before the surviving warships engaged. They waited a heartbeat, gun turrets tracking and barrels elevating, then they opened fire.

The front two dozen Vree ships vanished in precisely targeted gunfire, shattered before they could enter firing range of their own powerful but poorly ranged weapons. At about the same time the Hyach fired on the ships heading straight for them, one of the laser cannons managing to hit two ships with the same extremely powerful beam. Fighters rolled through Tor'han's formation, Thoruns engaging their League counterparts bravely despite being hugely outnumbered.

The range closed fast, both sides accelerating at high speed again, showering gunfire liberally across their path. The Vree swept into effective range and unleashed waves of green energy inflicting tremendous damage to their opponents, immolating vast swathes of hull and crippling the majority of the surviving fleet in one pass. While attacking the Brakiri only one or two ships had rammed their opponents, but now the Dilgar had no such restraint and liberally slammed into any slow moving Vree vessels, bludgeoning out of the path of the surviving warships.

Tor'han didn't even slow down, his last vessels flying through the ragged hole made in the Vree ships. He had just a few seconds until the saucers turned around and ran him down, the gravitic powered ships easily capable of catching and then annihilating his tiny band of survivors. Up ahead the Hyach were at point blank range, the massive vessels fired again with their primary and secondary weapons with lethal results. Despite evasive action the horrific salvo reduced Tor'han to just five remaining vessels, all surrounding his flagship and ready to sacrifice themselves for him.

He shot past the Hyach line, the rearmost of the League forces pummelling them with close range fire and losing two more ships to the return, but now it no longer mattered. He was past the League forces and his target was up ahead.

"Admiral, enemy ship is past the Hyach and still accelerating." The Brakiri office reported.

"He isn't turning?" Broma asked.

"No sir, he's still running." He paused. "Wait, jump gate activation, he's heading straight for the gate at flank speed!"

"He's trying to make a run for it!" Broma snarled. "Time to Vree intercept?"

"Ten seconds!"

"He won't make it." Broma shook his head.

The Vree were right behind Tor'han, his last escorts forming astern in a living shield. Two of them were shot to pieces, the third suddenly cut engines and collided with a chasing saucer, the shower of metal from the impact forcing the other closest saucers to break off pursuit for a few seconds, time enough for Tor'han to reach the gate.

"To die a Warmaster." He recited. "Activate jump sequence."

Up ahead the gate powered up, the energy flashing down the length of the struts and jabbing a hole into hyperspace, one that Tor'han dove straight for. He did not reach that portal and the chance of safety it offered, escape was not his intention.

Broma guessed that an instant before his sensor officer confirmed it.

"He's opening a jump point inside the gate!"

"All ships, jump if you can!" Broma shouted. "Get out of here!"

It didn't matter, having jumped in only several minutes earlier his vessels would not have sufficient charge to use their jump drives, and while the Vree were fast they couldn't outrun what was coming, and neither could Broma.

"The humans will finish this battle for us." He said confidently, showing no fear. "We will be avenged."

Tor'han's ship vanished instantly, its reactor overloaded by the stress of projecting the jump point while under full power and battle damaged. Even as it flew apart it did its job, the two jump vortexes occupying the same point in space within the perimeter of the gate struts. The disturbance was not as violent as two opposite vortexes occupying the same spot, but it still managed to overload the gate controls and trigger a massive cascade reaction in the Quantium forty embedded din its structure. The resulting explosion was the largest act of destruction in a war that had reset the scale.

The chasing Vree ships were shattered within a second, the titanic release of energy expanding like a white sun from the detonation point. The Hyach fleet was next, the mighty vessels tossed like toys in the face of the blast, broken and discarded like they were nothing. The few remaining Dilgar satellites were also annihilated before the explosion reached the Brakiri battle line, a wall of pure incandescence completely consuming the familiar black of space. Like the rest of the first wave they had no chance against that level of violence and were swept aside in less than a heartbeat.

The effects were also felt in hyperspace, though fortunately nowhere near as badly. Before the vortexes failed they transferred a small portion of the blast into hyperspace, enough to pulverise several flanking ships despite the relative distance from the gate and the directed nature of the blast.

"What the hell was that?" Hamato demanded with a slip of his calm mask.

"They blew up the gate!" Patel yelled in utter shock. "The first wave is gone!"

The entire ship bucked, thrown like a rodeo rider on a particularly bad tempered horse. Alarms blared as the engines went to emergency power to try and stabilise the ship.

"We're catching the blastwave! The gravity currents are pushing us this way!" Patel shouted. "We're getting pushed off beacon!"

"Emergency jump, all ships, all units, jump now!" Hamato ordered. "Wherever you are, jump before we lose the beacon!"

Hamato had not predicted this avenue of attack. Jump gates were considered sacred, beyond attack by any warring party in any war due to the reliance of all powers on the gates and the intricate beacon network. Taking out gates and beacons broke the links and lanes that held the galaxy together, destroying even a handful could cut off entire sectors of the galaxy, perhaps forever. It had happened once or twice in the past, entire empires literally vanished and were never seen again. Hamato had not imagined the Dilgar were desperate enough to do that, he should have known they were.

The allied fleet jumped in ragged order, spread out across millions of cubic miles of space out of formation and in small clusters. The second wave was spread out the most, but the third wave built around Markab and the remaining Hyach and Abbai ships was in an equally dispersed and uncoordinated state. The only positive was that relatively few ships had actually being lost, no more than a dozen in total.

Earth Force was in a better overall position, it had already been set up in task forces so while the fleet was badly dispersed individual ships tended to have arrived quite close to their fellow taskforce members. They hastily began to converge and seek mutual protection, then tried to join up with their neighbouring battlegroups and establish some sort of unified combat force.

The third wave was not so lucky, with their ships scattered largely as individuals away from their escorts and separated from the Earth ships. To make matters even worse they were to jump out within lunar orbit and most were already in position, meaning they had emerged from hyperspace scattered, unsupported, and right in the teeth of the Omelos defences. While Earth Force pulled itself together the League ships powered up and tried to run for the safety of the human lines.

Gar'shan watched it all unfold with deep satisfaction, his final battle was turning into a masterpiece. He had forced his enemy to move before his ready, now he had to act to capitalise on this unexpected opportunity.

"Warmaster Dar'sen." He spoke into the comms system. "Commence your attack, the Hyach ships are your priority."

"Respectfully sir, shouldn't I focus on the human ships while they are our of position, they are the greater threat."

"The humans are already in a defensive posture, you could knock out a few groups but your losses will be high and it won't stop them from regrouping." Gar'shan said. "The Hyach however are easy kills, and without their spinal lasers the allies won't be able to destroy our defence grid at range, they'll have to send their main ships in to do the job and take losses."

"Understood sir."

"Tear these League ships apart, after that you may engage any target you see fit until there is nothing left." Gar'shan ordered. "You have been a good officer, a strong ally, and a friend. The Imperium didn't survive this long because of peoplelike me, but because of people like you Dar'sen. You have my eternal gratitude and respect."

"I have done nothing beside my duty sir." Dar'sen answered.

"And that is why you are a better man than I am." Gar'shan said simply.

"Until the next life then, Supreme Warmaster."

"Until then Dar'sen." The older man agreed. "And there I shall take orders from you!"

"I don't think I could do better sir." Dar'sen chuckled.

"Yes you could." Gar'shan said solemnly. "Goodbye old friend, fight well."

"For Omelos." Dar'sen replied. "And for the memory of a dream."

"For that last page in the history books." Gar'shan said. "Break and attack, Third Strike Fleet."

"Third Strike obeys Supreme Warmaster, command out."

"There goes the last of our true soldiers." Gar'shan announced. "If we fight with just half as much honour and courage as that man we will be judged worthy of an afterlife! Now, engines to flank, make for the nearest Hyach ship and open fire as soon as you have a solution!"

Sinclair sealed the canopy and waved away the ground crew.

"Bugger the pre-flight checks, we need to get spaceborne right the hell now!"

The hangar bay emptied even as the fighters trundled forward on their racks towards their launch bays. The room was flashing in red light and even through the sealed canopy Sinclair could still hear the muffled shrill screams of the warning signals. The commander of the EAS Halsey needed to get his birds in the air immediately so had dispensed with the usual process of sealing each craft in an individual launch bay before opening outer doors. Instead he was making an emergency launch which involved opening both sets of launch doors at once, depressurising the entire hangar bay and just deploying the fighters straight from their storage and maintenance deck. It was inefficient, cost the ship a hell of a lot of air and was dangerous for the crew, but was far preferable to the alternative of meeting the Dilgar fleet with no Starfury cover.

The inner doors slid open and remained open, the racked fighters halting before they entered the bays.

"Alright Ghosts, hang on!" Sinclair ordered. "Going to get a bit bumpy!"

The outer doors slid open and at once a swift gust of air surged past, a freezing white hurricane that emptied out of the carrier on both sides. For a brief while the triangular warship looked like its ocean going counterparts, the white clouds of gas and ice appearing like foam lapping around the hull and trailing like disturbed water behind the starship.

Sinclair rocked in his fighter, the rushing air shaking it as it caught the wings and fuselage. The effect only lasted seconds, just until the air escaped from the deck before calm returned for just a heartbeat, existing for just the amount of time it took for the magnetic catapults to engage and throw him literally out the door.

Launching from this far back meant he was shot clean through the real launch bay at high speed, a nerve wracking event even for an experienced pilot like himself, a few feet off centre and it would end his return to active duty in a spectacular if embarrassing fashion. Fortunately the Starfury was in the correct position and escaped into open space, a glance to the left and right confirmed the rest of his squadron arrived safely too.

"And that was the easiest part of today." Sinclair said in dark humour. "Form up Ghosts, we'll hold close to the carrier and intercept anything that comes into range."

"Did anyone see what happened?" Lieutenant Ryan asked. "Why did we jump?"

"Wild guess, I'd say that." Hague replied. "Three o'clock low."

Sinclair followed his directions and saw a massive ball of light in the distance out to space. Even at this range it was incredibly bright and was throwing out a lot of static and radiation.

"What the hell is that?" Ryan asked.

"Quantium Forty explosion." Sinclair said. "I saw one once, Raiders hit a ship carrying some of the unrefined stuff. Nothing like that though, that had to be the local gate going up."

The looked at the fireball in silent awe for a few moments, the sensor showing that it was beginning to recede and was no danger for the remaining warships and fighters.

"Never thought I'd see anything like that." Ryan said hollowly.

"It gets better, enemy fighters approaching fast." Sinclair noticed. "There's a lot of interference from the explosion so be careful, don't get jumped and don't wait for a lock. Use your instincts, get close and wipe them out."

"Did I mention its good to have you back boss?" Hague grinned.

"Say it with beer." Retorted Sinclair. "Now form up and follow me, keep them away from the taskforce while it recovers formation."

The Dilgar ships rushed into action, leaving orbit and blasting into the scattered allies. Several Hyach ships were destroyed before they could even signal for help, and other Abbai and Markab ships in the same wave also came under fire as they found themselves in Dar'sen's path.

Among the force were a number of Delegor class suicide ships, the bane of Earth Force dreadnoughts due to their speed, agility and thick hulls. At Balos most of the Nova losses had been down to these particular ships and now they commenced their attacks against the Hyach fleet. The Hyach ships had even less close ranged firepower than the human ships, with fewer guns and equally long recharge rates between volleys, if the Novas had proven vulnerable the Hyach ships were positively sitting ducks and a dream target for the suicidal Dilgar crews.

It was hopeless, and while Dar'sen still did not approve of suicide ships they did prove an effective combat force, a single vessel proving quite sufficient to destroy a much larger and more valuable enemy ship. Flashes of bright nuclear fire dotted the battlefield as Hayach warships met their end, unable to either shoot down or evade the Dilgar attack ships. Some made a stand, deciding to do some damage before they were themselves destroyed and firing into the Strike fleet, carving one or two vessels before they joined their sister ships as tangled metal above Omelos.

The advance began to grow more difficult as warships came together, groups of Abbai vessels centred on surviving Hyach ships and used their shields to cover the retreat, losing some of their number in return. They could hold off gunfire but proved less able to deal with suicide ships which ploughed through their defences with barely a pause. Markab ships were the only means to really defeat them, the attack ships chasing down the enemy ships while others fended off attacks from Dar'sens battlegroups.

"Adjust course, target enemy ships forming up ahead." Dar'sen ordered swiftly. "Keep our formation loose, don't let the Hyach destroy more than one ship at a time."

Several Pentacans advanced at speed, fending off brave attacks by the Markab who threw themselves at the highly skilled Dilgar warships to try and distract them from hunting down the Hyach. It had little effect, the Strike Fleet was far too disciplined to be decoyed or distracted, and they mercilessly destroyed warship after warship and anything that stepped in their way.

There was a sudden increase in fire, a storm of energy weapons from Dar'sen's flank that claimed several vessels in mere seconds, a rolling sea of flame that bit into his forces.

"New contacts, right flank!" His aide Captain Ca'ra shouted. "Drazi signatures!"

Dar'sen smiled, knowing there was only one Drazi contingent in the area.

"That's Stro'kath." He said. "Pentacans one through ten will finish the hyach, all other ships come about and prepare to engage Drazi fleet."

"Aye sir, deploying now."

"Glad you could make it Stro'kath." The Warmaster spoke quietly. "Let's end this."

Admiral Hamato exuded calm, it was an act of course but a valuable one. His calming influence commanded the bridge, fed into the expanded command crew as they took in ever more desperate reports from across the fleet and relayed orders clearly and concisely. They had to be in control, they couldn't let their nerves get the bette rof them, the job they did relied on the crew of the Hannibal acting with the cold detachment of machines and centre to that was the detachment displayed by their Admiral. If he fell apart the fleet would not be far behind.

"We need to take the pressure off the League ships." He said simply. "Are our mobile forces engaged?"

"Yes sir." Patel answered. "They're hitting Third Strike fleet right now, unfortunately we've only got the Drazi and Markab contingents left, and both are too small to really handle Warmaster Dar'sen."

Hamato silently cursed the loss of his Vree allies, they were the perfect hunting forces and the ideal ships to send in at this point to disrupt Dar'sen and give the remaining Hyach time to withdraw.

"Send in the Sixth fleet to support Stro'kath directly." Hamato ordered. "Ferguson knows how the Drazi fight, he's the best man to coordinate with them."

"Yes sir."

"Get the rest of the Expeditionary force moving, all taskforces will engage any Dilgar targets in range. Don't wait for the fleet, just move in and attack at once."

"Sir, if we send in taskforces alone they might be overwhelmed."

"Dar'sen is too busy with the Drazi and soon he'll have Ferguson to worry about, Sixth fleet is in surprisingly good shape." Hamato noticed. "Stro'kath and Ferguson can probably handle him alone, but the more ships we send the faster this ends and the less people die on our side."

"Understood sir."

"Release all fighters, strike wings will engage Dilgar warships as a priority, all other units engage targets of opportunity."

"What about the defence grid sir?" Patel asked.

"We'll worry about that later, deal with the warships first, the satellites can wait."

The dark shapes of Earth Force ships moved with a purpose, recovering from the hasty jump and complete disruption of their battle plans. Hamato was improvising, making up a new plan as he went along and feeding it down to his subordinates in fairly general terms. Fortunately Earth Force was one of the few militaries that could excel in this sort of situation, who could stare disaster in the face, laugh maniacally, and then kick it in the crotch.

Across the fleet training kicked in, the taskforces taking up formation and moving to support whoever was closest, whether that was a fellow human fleet or a beleaguered Hyach or Markab formation. Officers picked their own avenues of attack, selected their own targets and prioritised objectives. Some waded straight into action with Dreadnoughts leading the way, others put themselves between the Dilgar and any surviving ships of the third wave and formed a defensive perimeter with cruisers and corvettes.

Each taskforce and each ship within acted to its own strengths, with Dreadnought heavy forces closing the range and doing what they did best, carrier forces standing off and releasing fighter waves, and mixed forces gathering together to form a flexible baseline for the rest of Allied force to gather around and draw support from. It was entirely intuitive, there was no script or complex series of battle orders for an action like this, it relied on human commanders knowing what was expected of them and how they could work with others to achieve it. Ships and officers who had never met before operated side by side like old comrades, thrown together by circumstance but not falling apart.

Earth Force was the only fleet that could do this, the only force in the galaxy with that balance of individuality and teamwork, where any given ship could fight alone or with allies equally well and change roles at the drop of a hat. It was a flexibility that had won battles, defeated the most fearsome war machine in a thousand years, and now it was picking itself up out of the chaos and making its presence felt.

Within a couple of minutes Earth ships were firing into Dar'sen's flanks, leading elements of the Sixth fleet deployed to back up the swift Drazi attacks with a rolling barrage of laser and plasma fire. Stro'kath didn't need to do anything, he didn't need to adjust his tactics or warn Admiral Ferguson of his intentions. The Sixth fleet took him position slightly below the main line of Drazi attack, familiar enough with Stro'kath's tactics to know where the stubborn little warrior would go next, which targets he'd pick out to engage, and where Earth ships needed to be to cover him.

It was a perfect example of spaceborne combined arms, practiced and perfected in the long march across the League and displayed here in its purest form. Even Dar'sen's extraordinary crews did not have the ability to match this, and while they handled their ships with lethal skill compared to the veterans of the Earth Expeditionary force they looked like uncoordinated rookies. However on an individual level the Third Strike was still a truly dangerous foe, and with each officer and crew member resigned to death there was nothing that could shake them, disrupt them or make them abandon their defence of their home. They would fight to the death, and hastening that end would not be easy.

"Watch your Nine!" Sinclair warned. "Bandits on the scope, forty plus, avoid them for now!"

The Starfuries skimmed across the battle, spiralling inwards to seek out targets amid the growing maelstrom. Gunfire roared past them, waves of rippling energy that disappeared into the gulf, sometimes ending in the brief flash of a vaporising hull segment.

"Got some marks ahead!" Hague reported. "Power readings match Thorun type three stats."

"Sounds like a job for Ghost rider." Sinclair confirmed. "Break by pairs and engage, and remember to watch your nine!"

The Earth Force fighters altered course and adopted an aggressive stance, dropping into the thick of the fighting and zeroing in on the elite enemy fighter group. The more powerful and agile Thorun MkIII was a solid fighter design and a good overall match for a Starfury making them a priority target in a firefight. Against most League craft they were a nightmare, and against the older and more common Tiger Furies they would win most of the time. This particular unit was heavily engaged against one such squadron of old Tigers, the twin engined Earth Force craft still managing to bring down one of their attackers despite being heavily outclassed.

Sinclair fell into action with plasma cannons burning, manipulating the thrusters so his fighter rotated relative to his target, the Thorun representing the pivot point of his turn. The enemy craft evaded, but Sinclair's accuracy was bordering on the legendary and he perforated the Thorun with well placed gunfire, breaking it up in a wave of flame. He immediately switched over to defensive, scanning the sky for trouble as his wingman made his own attack on a neighbouring Thorun, Bill Hague proving his skills by bringing down his own target at even longer range than Sinclair had.

The remainder of his squadron fell on the Dilgar with equal skill and fury, out turning and outfighting the enemy craft by a fair margin. The Dilgar were good but clearly did not have the experience of the Earth pilots and paid for it. They had brought down half the Tiger squadron, but failed to score a single hit on the far more dangerous Ghost riders.

"Tiger Squadron this is Ghost leader, how are you over there?"

"Bit shook up Ghost lead, thanks for the help."

"Not a problem." Sinclair said. "Are those anti ship torpedoes you're packing?"

"Confirmed Ghost lead, little thermonuclear greeting card for kitty."

"Alright then, we'll give you some top cover. Got a target in mind?"

"I see a Dilgar heavy cruiser up ahead, if we can break through the escorts."

"Leave that to us." Sinclair stated confidently. "Line up for your attack run, Ghost squad, lets make a hole, form up and follow me!"

The Starfuries spun and powered up, slotting into their practised and perfected combat formation and driving deeper into the fight, the remaining Tiger furies joining them close behind.

"There we go, target ahead." Sinclair spotted a group of Dilgar fighters near the enemy warship. "Third flight stay with the Tigers, first and second break and attack with me."

The grey warplanes rose to the challenge, swooping on the Thoruns and forcing them to fight back, tying them up while the strike fighters accelerated to attack speed.

Two enemies fell to Sinclair's guns, rolling the fighter hard as particle bolts raced past. He reversed course, turned sharply and then cut engines and flipped the big fighter on its roof, pointing his guns rearward and showering his pursuers with fire. He sensors showed two more fighters closing on him, but both vanished within a few seconds of each other as Hague fulfilled his job as wingman.

"This is Ghost ten, enemy fighters inbound on Strike mission!" One of his people barked.

"Move to engage." Sinclair ordered. "Keep them off the Tigers. Come on Bill, we haven't finished earning our pay today."

He pushed his engines up and soon came into sight of the enemy fighters, seeking to intercept them before they could engage the bomb heavy Tiger furies. Sinclair could feel his fighter rumble as the engines worked themselves, but then he detected another vibration, one that felt wrong. His concern was confirmed a few seconds later when his craft began losing power. Warning lights blinked across his canopy, the shuddering increased and his engine thrust began to drop dramatically.

"Ghost leader this is Bill, what's happening?"

"I've got a power drain in the engines!" Sinclair called back. "Bloody hell! Substandard rushed out piece of junk!"

"Hold on Boss, I'm moving to cover you!"

"Negative! Get over to the Strike wing and protect the Tigers!"

"Sir…"

"Bloody move it Bill! Go! I'll be fine, just go!"

Hague grimaced, but could not argue. "Alright, but I'm not going far!"

"Just go!" Sinclair growled. "I've got it covered!"

Hague reluctantly snapped his craft around and rushed into battle, joining the rest of the squadron as they engaged a large number of Thoruns several dozen miles away. Sinclair could see the blue and red flashes of exchanged weapons fire along with the moving purple glow of engine exhausts. He could also see frequent explosions, and was relieved to see his sensors confirming they were enemy fighters meeting their end.

"Alright computer, what happened?" He asked.

"Detecting fault in primary energy transfer system."

"Switch to secondary systems." He stated.

"Secondary systems powering."

Sinclair cursed under his breath, the fighter stuttering along at a fraction of its abilities, a prime target for any Dilgar in the area. A pre-flight check would probably have turned up the fault, likely down to substandard components being used to meet production targets. That annoyed Sinclair a lot.

"I miss my old fighter."

"Alert, three enemy fighters approaching, alert." The computer warned. "Evasive action recommended."

"Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious." Sinclair snapped. "Power status?"

"Working."

His sensors showed the enemy fighters heading his way fast. He threw the controls around but the fighter answered sluggishly, nowhere near what he needed to survive.

"Computer, transfer power from life support to engines!"

"That is not recommended under…"

"Override, do it!"

The familiar hiss of pumped in air stopped, almost unnoticeable until it was gone. At the same time things got colder, a lot colder, as the heaters switched off and left him just the insulation in his flight suit. He saw the engine power gauges increase, but not by much, barely a quarter of their capacity, but it was going to have to do.

The Fury moved, looping away from the guns of the enemy craft moments before they fired. Sinclair turned towards them, rolling as orange fire passed by his starboard wing. He tried to regulate his breathing, well aware that he only had the oxygen trapped in his helmet and that asphyxia would be mere seconds away. He shot one Thorun down, the wingtip engine breaking off and smashing into the fuselage in a single grand fireball. The other two broke in different directions, Sinclair focusing on the nearest one and striking it with a couple of volleys from his cannons.

His breathing was difficult, his lungs fighting for air as desperately as his fighter was fighting for speed. Both man and machine were being strangled, starved of the one raw element they needed to survive in order to stand a chance of lasting long enough to fix the problem. Sinclair put his guns to the incoming Thorun, timing speed and distance as he did so. His vision was blurring, blood rushing through his ears muffled his hearing and his heart beat fast with the adrenalin of battle, forcing him to breath harder and fill his helmet with carbon dioxide.

He could feel himself losing his grip, but refused to finally let go. He had too much to live for, too much to go home for. He could see the gunfire getting closer, the Fury evading almost automatically as he trusted to his instincts. He waited, knowing the seconds of his life were ticking down, held his fire until the Thorun was close, drawing it into to optimum range. Then, and only then did he shoot back, the blinding blue plasma shots streaming out with a shake as the guns recoiled beneath his feet. The destructive energies punched straight through the enemy fighter, smashing it to pieces and leaving tumbling and glittering fragments in its place.

"Computer, restore life support!" He managed to rasp, his lungs barely working anymore.

With a reassuring hiss the air came back, cool fresh breathable air. He hadn't even noticed the cold of his body during the fight, but the warmth of the cockpit heaters was unexpectedly welcome. He took in the air deeply, focusing his mind and bringing himself back under control.

"Now then." He considered. "Secondary relays."

Hague threw his fighter into a sharp roll, the massive tangled wreck of a Hyach escort ship blurring past within a few feet of his canopy, close enough for him to pick out corridors and crawlspaces now exposed to space. That particular ship was a complete loss, but at least it would be given some measure of vengeance.

"This is Tiger force, missiles are armed!"

"Roger that!" Hague called back through the pressing G force of his turn. "Make your run now!"

He threw his Starfury into another turn, witnessing the green bulk of a Dilgar cruiser appear impossibly large and clear in front of him. The warship was firing in all directions, it's main guns exchanging fire with one of the surviving Abbai ships, possibly the Syontar itself, while the smaller weapons tried to track the buzzing Furies.

"Ghost squadron, close in and draw their fire!" Hague ordered. "See if you can knock out a gun or two!"

The grey ships dodged past the fragments of Hyach warship, each moving as individuals but in a coordinated manner, aware of their position and that of their comrades at all times. Well placed pulsar fire crossed their routes, white flashes of particle energy that tried to strike them, hurl them out of the universe in one flurry of violence. The Ghost riders were skilled enough to avoid the Dilgar fire, and to distract the gunners from the real threat heading their way.

Hague skimmed his fighter over the green hull, firing into the deck with little effect. He laced a gun turret with plasma fire, expertly striking the elevation mechanism of the gun in question but with no actual results. This particular ship was an old model built to a high standard of quality making his guns useless. Fortunately it was not his responsibility to kill this ship.

The Tiger Furies popped up from behind the Hyach wreckage, lower wings mounting two nuclear tipped torpedoes with plasma warheads designed to melt through an enemy hull before the bombs detonated internally all but guaranteeing a kill. The squadron had four such weapons between them, and a high value target like this merited the use of all of them. They closed to point blank range, fired, and then turned away hard and accelerated, switching now to their role as a medium weight fighter.

"Squadron Break!" Hague ordered rapidly. "Get clear! Now!"

The Starfuries took evasive action, halting their attacks and rushing away, still careful not to give the gunners a clear parting shot. Behind them the four missiles proceeded without hindrance, turning up and stabbing into the green hull. Their plasma system fired a small charge from the nosecone, a condensed and short lived pulse of superheated gas that prepared the way, the bodies of the weapons themselves digging into the ship and wedging their. If for some reason they failed to explode they would remain there, merged with the enemy hull until they could be cut out, a very dangerous task given the plethora of anti tampering devices the missiles were fitted with. These ones however worked as advertised.

The Dilgar ship was annihilated, bursting apart from the inside out in a rippling explosion of bent and burning metal. Not much survived the blast, and even less was recognisable as a warship. Beside it the Syontar moved off, free now to link up with the approaching Earth fleets and array itself for the final stage of the battle.

The nuclear explosion drew a passing moment of attention from Gar'shan, noting it down as one more loss among a great many. Dar'sen was heavily outgunned and despite his inspired positioning and aggressive stance he was in immediate dange rof being surrounded and destroyed. Typically the Warmaster had not attempted to withdraw, his orders had been to attack and he continued to do so despite the odds and ultimate fate he faced. However Gar'shan had other concerns on his mind, and whle they would all find a honourable death he needed to continue this fight for longer.

"Fleet command to Dar'sen." He announced. "Earth Forces are on your flank preparing to cut you off, withdraw to Omelos at once."

"Confirmed Supreme Warmaster." Dar'sen replied. "Most of the Hyach ships are gone, their long range abilities are all but destroyed."

"Well done Warmaster, now fall back and take defensive positions around the defence grid." Gar'shan ordered. "We'll form a final bulwark over homeworld, make our stand there."

"Breaking off the engagement now." Dar'sen confirmed the order, then set about his task.

"Signal Warmaster Sa'goth." Gar'shan continued. "Tell him to prepare the defences for a full scale assault."

Further out Dar'sen began the withdrawal in traditional fashion, increasing the ferocity of his attack for a few minutes first to push his enemies back temporarily and give him some space to manoeuvre, a tactic he had perfected during his lengthy mobile campaigns against the Drazi.

"Fall back by Pentacan." The Warmaster ordered. "Staged withdrawal, lets call it a two part manoeuvre to Omelos."

"Aye sir." Ca'ra confirmed. "First group withdrawing now, second group maintaining suppressive fire."

The Dilgar ships parted, some fighting their way past the encircling Earth Forces while the remainder prevented pursuit. As soon as the first group had escaped they halted, came about and provided fire for their other colleagues.

"Alright, lets go." Dar'sen said. "Ripple fire all remaining nukes, drop mines and make full speed to Omelos."

The Strike fleet launched the last of its expendable weapons, a wall of missiles designed to distract the allied fleet rather than inflict significant damage. Against a pure League fleet it would probably have been lethal, but against Earth Force interceptors the chances of any weapon getting through was low. Never the less a few of the nukes did breach the point defences, blazing against the sides of a few Earth and League while the Dilgar pulled back, losing several of their own in the process.

The most dangerous part of the operation was keeping the rearmost ships safe, normally when a force retreated the enemy fell upon them, closing the range and attacking the relatively weak and undefended rear portions of the retreating warships. Dar'sen had prepared for this, his vessels spreading nuclear warheads that had been taken earlier from the minefields around Omelos and the jump gate. They were small and unsophisticated, and easily removed by the allied ships, but they bought time and delayed the pursuit long enough for Dar'sen to come within protective range of the defence grid.

His ships curled under the satellites and stations, pointed their bows outwards, aligned their guns, and waited.

Admiral Hamato observed the withdrawal quietly, not particularly surprised at the strategy but still quite perturbed about it. Beating Dar'sen in open space would have been a fairly straight forward battle, defeating him now with support from the defence grid was an entirely different and more dangerous battle. He wouldn't have had to worry about this if he hadn't lost the first wave, the swifter Brakiri and Vree ships could have encircled Dar'sen in minutes and cut off his line of retreat before he had a chance to withdraw. Their loss was being keenly felt right now.

"Gar'shan is giving us a choice." He thought out loud. "Siege or assault."

Patel shook her head. "We can't afford a siege, we're using the last of Earth's strategic fuel reserves in this battle, if we don't win today we won't be able to try again until next year."

"Unfortunately Gar'shan has removed the majority of our mobile ships, and Dar'sen has all but annihilated our long range units, they would have been our best ships to use against a static defence."

"I'm afraid so sir, only two Hyach capital ships are still operational." Patel confirmed sombrely.

"Too few to break their defences before we have to withdraw to refuel." Hamato realised. "We're going to have to assault them with our standard forces, take them head on and smash them in a straight fight."

"That won't be pretty sir."

"We don't have a choice." He grunted. "The Grav well will slow us down, but in this sort of battle it won't matter much. Concentrate the fleet, we'll hit them in one location, break through, then roll up their forces and scour orbit."

"Understood sir."

"We'll use the curvature of the planet against them, take cover behind it and limit the forces they can send our way at any one time."

"Admiral, that will put is in range of planet based weapons too." Patel warned. "We have scans of multiple ground stations armed with heavy guns, a lot of them near civilian centres."

"I know." Hamato sighed. "I had hoped to leave them until much later, to destroy them with precision strikes. It appears we will not have that option."

"If we have to target and destroy them in full scale battle, with standard ship mounted guns, that close to cities…"

"Then we will probably inflict heavy collateral damage on the nearby cities." Hamato finished for her. "I know, but I can't risk ships by leaving the defences unengaged."

"It could cost millions of civilian lives, the President…"

"I accept full responsibility." Hamato said firmly. "Authorise all ships to engage surface targets at will with any available weapons. The enemy warships are our priority targets, but all ships will take whatever action necessary to ensure their survival Form by taskforce, prepare to move into orbit."

The allied fleet ordered itself for battle once more, perhaps for the final time. The Dilgar had been pushed back, from the borders of the Earth Alliance to within a few thousand miles of their homeworld itself. If they withdrew any further they would be swimming the oceans of their homeworld, this was their last step backwards, the last line that had to be crossed.

The hardened rows of warships fell in beside each other, Dreadnoughts and Cruisers at the core with Corvettes and a few armed Frigates dotted between the leviathans. Markab and Abbai ships joined the human forces, Drazi vessels formed into attack wings and everywhere Starfuries crossed the void and linked up with the rest of the attack group.

The battle had paused, no weapons fired or ships exploded. Both sides were gathering their might, massing their strength for the final act of this long drama, the one last titanic effort needed to end this conflict once and for all. Losses to the Allied fleet had been heavy, they had been surprised, shaken and wounded by the desperation of the Dilgar, yet it had all come to nothing. They still stood there, teetering on the edge of defeat with no hope left, no chance left. They were already beaten but would not accept it, would not stand down, would not stop. They had to be made to stop. No one among the Allies had any doubt, the long road had removed any questions as to why they were here risking their lives. Billions of souls gathered behind them, urging them on, and billions of living breathing people waited across the galaxy praying for this victory and hoping for the safe return of those they loved.

The Dilgar waited for them, the last Warmasters defiant to the end. They stared at the massed fleet, staring at death itself and did not flinch. The final defence of Omelos rested in their hands, and whatever the people below thought, whatever they knew their true fate to be, it didn't matter. The Dilgar were a lost race, but the fleet would fight and die none the less.

A hopeless battle against a superior foe in defence of a lost cause. It was the stuff of Dilgar legend, a modern myth that would have no one to savour it, not unless the sleeper ships could somehow succeed on their forlorn mission.

They faced each other, two walls of ships, two lines of guns and firepower. Vast space stations and hardened warships on one side, the product of centuries of warfare and ingenuity on the other. The League would fight hard, it was a given, but the core of this battle, the one thing that would decide victory or defeat was going to be Earth Force.

"Admiral Ferguson, take your fleet over the left flank, broadside them all the way across the planet." Hamato barked final orders. "General Fontaine, break and take Fourth Fleet right. League ships engage satellite targets at will. Third fleet, Fifth Fleet, everyone else, we're breaking right through over the capital."

The various warships signalled compliance, his units assigned, the plan in place, the enemy there waiting for him, not even trying to escape.

"So it all comes down to this." Hamato spoke quietly. He couldn't shake the image of Captain DeVierre from his mind, the commander of the Persephone that had fallen to the Dilgar so long ago, the first human vessel to be lost to the Dilgar. He had fallen defending people he didn't even know and that Earth had no treaties with. He fought because they were helpless, because the Dilgar were going to slaughter them. What he did on that day had been repeated by every frontline soldier in the Alliance, they had all fought to protect the helpless from the Dilgar, and like DeVierre many had tied. The jovial man had filled Hamato with a strong sense of purpose, a desire to make sure his sacrifice and the sacrifice of so many others was not in vain.

He knew the name of every ship he had lost, he knew to the exact count how many service men and women had died in this war, and every evening he burned incense in their memory. It mattered to him, he had to send them into battle, he had to order his ships and people into action knowing they would die because by their sacrifice countless more would live. It was a balance, the one part of command that there was no training for. Some people couldn't handle it, couldn't make those choices. Others made them too easily, throwing away lives needlessly. Hamato could make those choices with cold clear logic, but it still ripped his heart every time a ship blazed to a cold grave, and the only thing he could do was remember their names, and continue to fight for what they had died for.

"All units have responded Admiral." Patel said with pride. "Fleet is ready."

"Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more, or close it full of our dead." Hamato recited. "Stiffen the sinews and summon up the blood. From this day to the ending of the world let no one of us be forgotten, and let no deed we do fade in the memory of time. We may die, but what we do here this day will never fail, never grow old, and never perish."

He rested his hands on the chair, at once familiar to him and comforting. He had overseen every battle from here, each victory and defeat. His crew were as known to him as his own family, their quirks and ambitions, hopes and dreams. One piece of the fleet, one portion of the thousands of similar people, all prepared, all ready, all just waiting for one final word from him to release them into battle.

"All ships of the Liberation Navy." He intoned gravely, giving his words the weight they deserved. "Advance into battle, destroy the Dilgar Navy, quell the horns of war and give the galaxy peace."

Massive engines opened like rising suns, burning to glorious intensity as they drove the combined fleet forward. Slowly they moved, the ion engines stretching themselves to push the mountains of metal through space towards Omelos, final jewel of the Dilgar Imperium. Their formation was perfect, linear and well spaced, advancing in unison as they had in exercises, in training and in war before today. They were the best, the one hope the galaxy really had to beat the Dilgar, and now they stood on the brink of that staggering achievement.

The warships picked up speed, the acceleration mounting behind them. Still no guns fired, the range was too great. Fighters leapt forward, seeking out the remaining Dilgar warplanes or aiming to bring missiles to the enemy satellites. The last Hyach ships held back, arming their cannons and preparing to support the attack while the Abbai spread further out. After all they had been through they still refused to fire on the planet for fear of causing civilian casualties. It was both inspiring and frustrating.

Gar'shan watched them close in, eyes fixed to the video image of the Earth Force warships, the array of guns directed at him and his world.

"I have never faced Earth before." He said quietly. "Jha'dur was right to speak respectfully of them, they make a magnificent war."

"Sir, they're entering range of our heavy batteries." Captain Mah'ran reported.

"To have such ships at my command, even now, to have access to that power." Gar'shan smiled. "But it is not to be."

"Orders sir?"

"Orders." He nodded. "The orders are to stand, to fight until you can fight no more, to die with your face pointed at the enemy. You are all warriors of Omelos, the last of your kind, a breed never to be seen in the life of this universe. Your lives were glorious, your deaths will be legend. Fire upon the enemy, fill the sky with light and meet them head on. We have been given this chance for this last battle, seize it."

The range fell, thousands of targeting computers gave their confirmations and across the board weaponry erupted in a dazzling crescendo. Hyach beams lanced through one of the Dilgar space stations, opening swathes of it to space and ripping through internal struts and joists. Dilgar gunfire rose up from the ring of defences, small specks of light that rapidly grew into full sized particle bolts and missile exhausts. Across the allied fleet interceptor batteries engaged, knocking down the enemy fire before it could impact their given targets. At long range the interceptors performed well, but as the distance shrank and reaction times fell it would become far more difficult.

The first ship fell out of formation, an Artemis Frigate billowing smoke and flame from a massive hole on its side. The ship turned away and moved away, forced to simply sit on the sidelines and make what repairs it could. Laser fire caressed the Dilgar lines, the multitude of red beams melting and slicing deep into satellites, warships and stations. Bright specks of fire and molten metal began to pock mark the Dilgar defence, ships and satellites lost power and began to drift, some of them beginning the long and deadly fall out of orbit and toward the surface. They would do tremendous damage to Omelos, but it no longer mattered to the Dilgar.

Plasma fire joined in with laser strafes, the range closing enough now for the other human ships to engage their guns. The volume of fire increased massively, the intensity lighting up the sky and painting a bright but lethal picture. It was abundantly clear from the surface, with the focus of the battle taking place high above the capital city. Even the most staunch of soldiers knew then and there that the war was lost, that such power above their world signalled the death knell of their imperial ambitions. Whatever words had been said, this simple reality told the truth.

Defensive emplacements fired at full power, long barrelled guns snapping back with hisses or gas and crackles of static electricity. Energised particles launched themselves at the ever approaching attackers, guns of every type and variety firing incessantly, pushing themselves to their limits. Reactors ran hot, obsolete ships and defences were flooded with lethal radiation as they fought, dooming the crews to death within hours. It didn't matter to them, because surviving beyond the next twenty minutes was nothing more than a dream.

The allies did not hold back either, firing every weapon they could bring to bear on target, often engaging three or four enemies at once depending on the arc. The mighty Nova dreadnoughts were throwing gunfire in every direction, each turret aiming at a different satellite and slicing them from the sky in massive numbers.

The Allies began to level, to slow down in order to slip into high orbit and not plummet into the ground. The different groups followed their orders, going left or right, while Hamato led the bulk of the force directly towards the sheltered Dilgar warships to take them on at point blank range where the Human weapons were at their most lethal.

"Enemy fighters on the up!" Hague called out in warning. "Join up and engage, full attack!"

The Starfuries of the 13th fighter squadron rushed towards Omelos, the alien world massive in their field of vision, a sweep of white cloud and green land beneath. It was always a stirring sight to look down on a habitable world from orbit, even when it was the enemy homeworld. Hague had no space to savour it, focusing on the array of dark shapes highlighted above a bank of clouds. His sensors showed a mix of fighters, mostly Thoruns but a large number of much older and simpler craft mixed in too. He assigned his unit to go for the dart fighters, leaving the lesser craft to Tiger Furies and the League.

Hague checked the range then looked to his left, then right, then above and below. In every direction as far as he could see were Starfuries, thousands of them massed for the attack. They spearheaded the attack, aimed like a blade at one particular sector of the Dilgar defences to pry them open and allow the heavier warships to widen the gap and engage Warmaster Dar'sen on an equal footing.

Missiles streaked out from the Allied line, and a few from the Dilgar too. Hague jinked, wobbling his fighter to shake off a nearby smoke trail and dropped countermeasures to impede and pursuit. Ahead hundreds of flashes showed where allied missiles had hit, and then seconds later walls of gunfire splashed out between the colliding fighter swarms.

Hague slotted into position and fired, the closing speed giving him just seconds to aim and fire his scatter of plasma shots. He was rewarded with a bright flash from the enemy, but was well past it before he saw if it was a kill or just a wound, he'd need to look at the battle net later to see if he could take credit.

"Slide left!" He ordered. "Vector in on new targets, flanking fire!"

The Squadron altered course slightly, then spun on their axis and fell towards Omelos sideways, their guns pointing across the battle space. In unison they fired into the flanks of a Dilgar fighter group rising up in front of them, the totally unexpected enfilade fire ripping several green tridents from the sky.

"Prepare to back track, lets finish them!"

"Belay that!" A familiar voice ordered. "Keep going, straight through the defences!"

Hague grinned. "Couldn't stay away boss?"

Sinclair's fighter fell in with the squadron.

"Like a homing pigeon." He agreed. "We'll leave the stragglers to the interceptor guns, plenty more up ahead for us, back on course Ghost riders, into the fire."

The Squadron spun back to face Omelos and burned their engines, diving to the level of the orbital defences before pulling up and cruising into action. Satellites of various types were dotted all around, some of them firing at the fighters while others engaged the capital ships. It was a maelstrom with the hazy atmosphere of the planet on one side and a constant barrage of gunfire on the other. Dilgar shots rose up in an orange sea while allied fire came the other way like a curtain. More than a few rounds missed and fell to the planet, and even now there were a few flashes as nuclear ordnance saturated ground facilities.

The Furies rushed through the melee, hundreds of dogfights unfolding all around as warplanes chased each other back and forth under the feet of the duelling giants. Two satellites near Sinclair exploded violently as heavy plasma rounds pulverised them, and on the horizon a Dilgar battlestation glowed orange as it burned from hundreds of impacts, very slowly breaking up as long range Hyach gunfire finished it.

"Fighters high!" Ed Ryan shouted. "Coming in from the defence cluster, eleven high!"

"Turn to engage!" Sinclair barked. "Watch your space, the entire fleet is firing into this zone!"

The Starfuries snapped their noses around, inertia pulling them in a shallow circle until the engines reasserted dominance. The Dilgar unit was a mixed bag of Thoruns and elderly Stinger fighters, and both seemed to be badly deployed. They fired into the human squad, engaging too far away to really make a difference. Sinclair and his people dodged easily, predicting the enemy attack vector and adjusting accordingly. They waited a few more seconds before responding, and as expected the Starfuries easily disposed of their opposition.

"Rookies." Hague said.

"They've still got guns, and even Rookies get lucky." Sinclair said. "Keep alert, we're going after some satellites."

The squadron ducked under the defence grid, flying beneath the thick wall of gunnery platforms and seeking to swoop up to fire on the distracted undersides. Several other squadrons were doing the same thing, League and human, and of course the Dilgar deployed to stop them.

Hundreds of fighters danced in the reflected light of the planet, blazing gunfire, hot engines and spinning fireballs marking the vicious contest. Wreckage fell into the sky in bright glowing orbs leaving white trails behind, a soft hail of hard steel. Most of the Starfuries were busy handling Thoruns while the League went for the satellites. Sinclair spotted a group of missile armed Tigers take down two of the enemy installations in a bright shock of nukes, and then come about and immediately engage a flight of Darts.

His sensors registered targets ahead, enemy fighters moving in on a League squadron.

"On me Ghosts, form up!"

He increased speed carefully, acutely aware of the engine trouble his fighter had and trusting to his innate skills rather than raw power. His sensors glittered with target locks and collision alerts, there was so much debris falling from orbit, caught in gravity that it was like flying through a thunder storm.

"Check front, something big on the way down!" Hague shouted just as Sinclair's collision alarms sounded. He craned his neck and spotted the source of the warning, a huge tangle of metal falling towards them several hundred metres long. It was unrecognisable, torn to ribbons by naval gunfire from the battle above and showering gas and strips of metal in its wake as gravity embraced it.

"Evasive!" Sinclair ordered, needing to say nothing more than that.

The whole squadron dissolved, turning and twisting from the shattered monolith falling past them. Sinclair's entire eye line was filled by the object, every mangled detail clear as crystal before him. He raced up and over the wreck, weaving past some secondary debris and then resuming course, within four seconds the whole squad was back in position.

Ahead the Dilgar squadron rushed into a group of Tiger Furies and Markab fighters, not even firing. They rammed anyone too slow to evade, suicidal in their wishes to destroy any allied fighter before they too fell. They destroyed half a dozen before gunfire finished the rest.

"Keep going!" Sinclair ordered. "Cover the strike wings!"

The bulky Furies fell in with deceptive grace and moved to engage the next Dilgar target, the whole heavens around them blazing as the Sixth fleet passed overhead raining down laser and plasma fire at the defences.

Behind Sinclair the vanguard of the Third fleet was crossing into orbit, lining up with Dar'sen's forces and closing fast. Several ships had fallen to gunfire, a Hyperion was blasted completely in half by a massive ground based cannon that had somehow avoided detection in a mountain range. Before the glow of the impact had faded the gun's location was blasted by two dozen direct hits from other EA ships, the area glowing with blazing air and exploding machinery.

"Port five degrees." Hamato ordered. "Compress formation."

"Aye sir." Patel confirmed.

"Focus on the gap, break through and press the advantage. I want those ships."

The lead ships set an upwardly curved course, heading straight for Omelos before raising their bows to face the enemy. They fired furiously on the satellite network, many taking hits of varying degrees of severity in the process. The fighter strikes had helped to clear a path for the ships, thinning out the worst of the defences and allowing the massed guns of the fleet to clear away the rest without undue damage.

"Assuming orbit." Patel reported. "Engines at full, all systems stable."

Gun fire zipped past the warships as they advanced, bashing aside any debris in their path with the thickly armoured hulls. A few Dilgar fighters slipped past the net, racing between the grey vessels at high speed and meeting the interceptor grids. Few made it to attack, with most attempting to ram the Earth ships and ending up as little more than a dark mark on the heavy armour.

Up ahead Hamato could see the flat and menacing shapes of Dar'sen's ships closing on his position, the Dilgar fleet not flinching.

"Hostiles on approach, forward batteries aligned and locked."

"Open fire." Hamato ordered. "Maintain this altitude, take us right through the middle."

The big warships hurled immense energies at the Dilgar, any gun that could track engaged the enemy ships while the other batteries could still find enough satellites to keep them busy in the meantime. Hamato's fleet was under fire from all sides, but thanks to the flanking forces he had deployed to skirt the planet and fire down the defence grid was taking too much damage to focus entirely on the main attack. The Dilgar were having to fight Admiral Ferguson and General Fontaine at the same time, and they simply could not concentrate on any one target, not if they wanted to last more than a few minutes.

The gravwells were slowing the EA ships, making it harder for them to manoeuvre but really that didn't matter much. EA ships were not well known for speed or agility, and the effects of fighting in orbit didn't make much difference. However it both worked both ways, and the Dilgar ships were also restricted in their movements, unable to fully utilise their superior agility. It was the kind of fight Earth Force lived for, a slow speed close ranged gunnery duel that Hamato had tried so hard to engineer in previous battles, and that Gar'shan had served up on a silver plate.

The Dilgar were happy to oblige, they had drawn the EA into orbit and opened up the rest of the Omelos system, concentrating allied forces in one place with a target opportunity they couldn't pass up. As the two forces clashed over Omelos the last batch of sleeper ships moved away from orbit of the Dilgar Moon, a handful of heavy cruisers escorting them and ready to open a jump point for their escape in the absence of the gate. They would be noticed, but the allies could do nothing to stop them now. Both sides had what they wanted, a final vicious battle and a glimpse of the future.

"Earth Force warships closing fast sir!" Captain Ca'ra stated.

"Close the range." Dar'sen ordered.

"Sir, we won't last long in there."

"We won't, but the closer we are the more effective our weapons become." Dar'sen stated. "And we can try and take a few of them with us."

"Yes sir."

His Dreadnought rumbled as its engines pushed it forward, the nearest ships following suit as orders filtered through. The final suicide frigates made their run, moving decidedly slower in the gravwell and easily picked off by the human vessels. One managed to hit a cruiser, utterly destroying the forward hull in a hurricane of metal and flame, but most were simply shot down.

A trio of Markab ships flew past beneath them, skirting the upper atmosphere and leaving vapour trails behind them. They poured fire into the satellites and ships, firing on any target of opportunity that passed them. Drazi ships attacked by squadron, keeping a distance and operating outside the gravwell to preserve their agility. At such range their attacks weren't terribly effective, but they did serve to cap the Dilgar and quickly removed any units trying to leave the gravwell to attain a better combat position. The main battle however was obviously going to be between Dar'sen and Hamato, which suited them both perfectly.

"Admiral, we have a contact coming in!" Patel warned. "Heavy Pentacan bearing right for us!"

Hamato looked away from the main display. "Composition?"

"One Mishakur and five Tratharti class sir." Patel said. "Something about that Dreadnought, it isn't standard."

Ahead the leading Earth Force ships were cutting into Dar'sen's vanguard, the Dilgar ships crumpling under the heavy close range fire, but not before bringing down a couple of attackers at the same time.

"What is it Commander?"

"Sir, readings show it's the Deathwalker." The computer matched the profile. "Flagship of the Dilgar Navy."

Hamato nodded in understanding. "It's him."

"The Supreme Warmaster?"

"He wants to attack me, leader to leader." The Admiral observed. "Single combat, ship to ship."

"Shall we turn to meet him?"

Hamato frowned. "We will not, we will hold course and let the two nearest taskforces handle it."

Gar'shan's escort force moved swiftly through battle, powered by superior engines they made better time than their compatriots in the Strike Fleet but still saw a significant reduction in abilities. A few fighters danced around them, but the elite Thorun MKIII units kept the missile armed craft at a safe distance.

"Earth ships on approach." Captain Mah'ran reported. "Not the flagship."

Gar'shan chuckled to himself. "Perhaps a little too much to ask for."

"Enemy locking on!"

"Increase speed, slashing attack against the human flagship." Gar'shan ordered. "Bring us to orbital command when we are done."

Mah'ran did as ordered, though he wasn't positive they'd be seeing orbital command at this rate.

The Pentacan accelerated and turned, rolling to present an oblique target to the EA gunners. Particle and laser guns threw bolts and beams at Earth Force, some finding targets and others not. They swept by Hamato's force, coming under fire from three separate taskforces in the process.

The Deathwalker rang with impacts from human weapons, its own guns shuddering the hull with their considerable recoil. Gar'shan was pleased to see his rounds striking the human flagship as he curved past, but the Nova absorbed the half dozen bolter hits without much complaint, straddling the Dilgar vessel with two dozen laser bursts in response.

Around him the escorts were torn apart by the human taskforces, despite their enhanced abilities they were still no match for Dreadnoughs or Hecate Battlecruisers and suffered accordingly. Not one of the Tratharti's survived long enough to escape. The Deathwalker however did manage to complete her run, the hull punched with some extra holes but still largely functional as it passed through the heavily engaged Third Strike Fleet towards the command station that loomed up ahead.

"Moderate damage." Alina Patel said swiftly. "All systems still operational."

"Very well." Hamato affirmed, his ship still reporting to the sound of its own recoiling guns. With so few ships he could not keep the Hannibal out of battle, though he was safely nestled between several other heavy taskforces.

"Picking up a major structure ahead, Dilgar orbital command."

Hamato recognised it from the briefings, a massive star shaped fortress well equipped with weapons and command facilities. Destroying it would probably spell the end for the defence grid, with its powerful transmitters gone the satellites would be uncoordinated and easily mopped up. Unfortunately without the Hyach he would have to get up close to finish it.

"Adjust course slightly." Hamato said. "Alert Taskforce nineteen, have them join us and make for Orbital Command."

"Yes sir."

"The rest of the fleet will continue to advance on the Third Strike Fleet and destroy it. Recall first and second airwings to cover us from fighter attack."

The Hannibal altered course slightly, her escort of four heavy cruisers matching her deployment. Beside them another pair of dreadnoughts and six more cruisers lined up with the command group bringing several corvettes with them. They pointed their bows at the massive Dilgar station, but still had a number of enemy warships in front of them first.

"Sir?" Patel wondered about the Dilgar ships.

"Plough through."

The detachment of Earth ships engaged at close range, their flanks shining with the light of their guns and exploding enemies. Bolt fire smashed against their sides, often too close for the interceptors to counter but it didn't matter much, most enemy ships fell before they could offer any meaningful resistance. As the main force tied down Dar'sen and pushed them back Hamato could afford to concentrate on the new prime target.

"Redirect power from propulsion to plasma mortars." He ordered. "Prepare barrage fire."

The engines dimmed as the Hannibal shifted power from its reactors, energising the two oblong cannons slung beneath the prow of the Dreadnought. These two weapons were massively powerful, the largest energy weapons in the human arsenal but due to their size defied any attempts to mount them on turrets, at least for the immediate future. They had to be fixed in place, needing the whole ship to turn in order to aim them. Considering how sluggish The Nova was it was very rare to have an opportunity to use those weapons, but against an unmoving target like a station they were perfect.

"Incoming fire from the station!" His XO read.

"Move corvettes to provide interceptor cover." Hamato said. "Forward guns, commence fire."

The smaller EA warships formed a screen, laying down rapid fire from their light guns and catching most of the incoming defensive fire from the station. As they did so the cruisers joined the Dreadnoughts in fighting the station, going fully offensive and pumping round after round into the massive structure, melting and immolating vast swathes of the hull but doing little to hinder its combat ability.

Then the Dreadnoughts engaged, gigantic bursts of green plasma erupting from the bow guns. They maintained a surprising rate of fire, discharging vast quantities of superheated material into the enemy structure. The green bolts bit deeply into the station, coring through the hull and simply annihilating most of what stood in their way. Secondary explosons rumbled in the command station, but it stubbornly refused to die and continued to shoot back, crippling a cruiser and destroying a corvette.

"Admiral, enemy ships on approach!" Patel spotted.

He cursed under his breath. "Send Taskforce Nineteen to deal with them, we'll finish this station."

"Yes sir."

The EA force split, Hamato and his four cruisers continued to hit the station while the other ships turned to engage the more immediate threat of the incoming Dilgar ships.

"Move us to this location." Hamato pointed. "Between the station and the planet, most of the guns there have been destroyed. Then focus fire on the weakened hull elements, we don't have to destroy it all, just make it break up."

As the warships turned fighters engaged bitterly around them, including Sinclair's Ghost riders.

"Watch the flagship!" He ordered. "Keep her flanks clear!"

The squadron rushed through the combat zone, bringing down a mix of fighters and shuttles in the process. The Dilgar threw everything at the human ships, but none of it got through. An assortment of armed freighters and converted passenger ships moved at what would have been high speed for them, their woefully underpowered guns trying to harm the EA flagship to no avail. In response the Hannibal's flank guns sliced tem to pieces by the dozen, destroying them in seconds while the ship continued to pay most of its attention to the command station.

"Come on people, don't string out!" Sinclair ordered. "More Thoruns, that Dreadnought is like a beacon to them!"

"I'm reading carriers boss!" Hague warned. "And a hell of a lot of debris."

"Watch your combat manoeuvres." Sinclair reminded. "Don't want you guys pulling a perfect evasion only to plant your faces in one of Hamato's cast offs!"

The Furies wove through the wreckage, hunting down stray fighters and bombers. It was like some bizarre living history experiment, a bewildering array of fighters and bombers swarmed space around them, most of them hopelessly obsolete and easy prey for the EA fighters.

"This all they have left?" Hague wondered.

"Not by a long shot, Dreadnought ahead." Sinclair pointed. "Bloody hell, it's the Deathwalker!"

"That bastard made it through the war?" Hague said in surprise.

"We'll leave her to the Admiral, stay on mission and watch for…"

He was interrupted by a massive wave of sensor energy that sent his threat warning receivers through the roof.

"We just got painted by half the Dilgar navy!" Hague blurted, catching the same signals.

"Where the hell is it coming from?" Ryan demanded. "I don't see anything!"

Sinclair scanned the vicinity, there were no warships, just wreckage… that's when it struck him.

"It's an ambush!" He shouted. "Contacts in the wreckage!"

The debris around the station had been a plant, and while much of it was genuine other examples had been launched from the station and the four carriers lurking on the edge of the fight. The planted wreckage broke apart revealing missiles, the weapons that had been made from old mines and the final strategic stockpiles. They armed themselves even as the cover fell away and prepared to fire.

"Take them down!" Sinclair shouted. "Fire!"

He rolled the fighter and pumped plasma shots into the nearest missile cluster. While large the weapons were unarmoured and his fighter cannons easily pierced their bodies. He was rewarded with a giant explosion as one missile blew up, igniting the fuel on the others. Several more clusters exploded as other fighters dealt with them, or sharp eyed cruiser gunners blasted them apart with secondary weapons, but many more survived and fired.

Sinclair snarled and twisted his fighter around, taking out two missiles as they rushed past his nose but failing to stop anymore. Scores of nuclear tipped weapons saturated the five EA capital ships and handful of escorts, overwhelming the interceptors and impacting the grey hulled warships. It was Gar'shan's last surprise, close range missile saturation taken straight out of Hamato's own tactics book. He knew Earth would try to hit the station, but hadn't expected his trap would catch the flagship itself.

"The whole board is lit!" Patel shouted. "Massive incoming!"

"Turn us into the spread, sound collision alarms!" Hamato barked. "Brace for impact!"

The warship turned away from the mortally wounded station, but was not fast enough. The missiles exploded against his ship, gouging armour and punching deep into the hull and internal workings of the vessel. The smaller escorts had no chance, the boxy Corvettes exploding one after the other as the whole sky went white. The cruisers lasted longer, but even so they couldn't fend off that level of firepower and fell apart in storms of flame and burning metal.

The Hannibal rolled out of control, a complete sheet of flame but still miraculously in one piece, giving testament to the incredible toughness of the construction. One other ship survived in equal desperate state, an escorting cruiser missing about a quarter of its total mass.

"Initiating emergency venting of outer decks!" Patel choked, the air recycling fighting to draw smoke out of the bridge. "Sealing off ruptured fuel and power lines!"

The bridge was a mess, a massive split ran across the left hand side wall where the hull had bent and buckled tearing the bonded metal apart. Several crew members were injured, and medical teams had been called but would take time to travel through the mangled ship.

"We're still alive!" Hamato barked. "Keep us that way, bring these fires under control, evacuate all crew to the central core! Get on with it!"

"Squadron! Check in!" Sinclair ordered brusquely.

"Ten is gone." Ryan said emptily. "And six."

"I've got an engine out." Hague said. "Damn thing nearly cooked me!"

"Alright, Ghost Three and Four, escort Ghost Two out of the combat zone." Sinclair ordered.

"What, sir I can still fight!" Hague retorted.

"No you can't." Sinclair returned. "And that was an order, we're all going to pull back."

"We've still got two ships out here sir." Ryan pointed out.

"And they are withdrawing." Sinclair observed. "We'll cover them from fighter attack, all the way out of the combat zone."

"Then we come back?" Ryan asked.

"Easy Four, by the time we're done I think it'll be over." Sinclair assured. "Take position, quick and cool."

The remaining Starfuries closed on the scene of destruction, passing the fragments of the ships that hadn't survived and taking position between the two remaining vessels, both in terrible condition themselves but still just about moving.

"Look at that." Ryan whistled. "How is it still moving?"

"Cut the chatter and pick up your scans." Sinclair cut in. "I've got movement." He waited for his sensors to feed back a profile match, his heart sinking. "Ah hell."

Sweeping around the burning station was the Dilgar flagship, the Dreadnought Deathwalker. It had taken damage of its own but was in much better shape than the two human ships and right now was closing into weapons range and clearly preparing to attack.

"Ghost squadron, standby to attack!" Sinclair ordered.

"What can we do against that thing boss?" Ryan asked. "We don't have any missiles!"

"Just try and distract, Taskforce Nineteen is on its way back." Sinclair had no idea if it actually was or wasn't, but his people didn't need to know that right now. "Stay evasive, get in close and go for the guns!"

The black hulled Dilgar ship lined up, its remaining weaponry focusing on the two massively damaged EA warships. Behind it followed four Garasoch class Supercarriers, by now empty of aircraft and underarmed for their size, but still viable combat ships and useful in this particular skirmish.

"Enemy in sight!"

"Very well." Gar'shan approved, his trap had worked perfectly. "Target the cruiser first, then focus fire on Admiral Hamato."

"We still have three missile clusters left sir." Mah'ran reported.

"Use them."

The aide quickly sent the required information, watching the scans around him. "Sir, we also have several human fighters making an attack run."

"Ignore them, plot firing solution on the cruiser and fire."

Sinclair skimmed within feet of the warship, firing down into its hull with little effect, the plasma splashing and dispersing across the thick plates. The rest of the unit was equally ineffective causing little more than surface scarring to the enemy vessel. The drifted past the Dreadnought and crossed by the wounded cruiser, its one functional gun blasting defiantly at the potent enemy warship.

"Gather for another pass." Sinclair said. "We'll go for the sensor mounts, they're exposed and should hurt it."

As he spoke the Deathwalker fired, rapid bolts of particle energy that cut deeply into the wounded EA cruiser. Orange rounds pierced the cruiser, easily breaking the weakened hull and ending its resistance as main power conduits broke and the reactors spewed uncontrolled energies through the ship.

"All fighters, break now! Clear the area before she cooks off!" Sinclair commanded, dropping his own throttles and turning away. He knew within a quarter second something was wrong.

His engines protested, coughing at a few bursts of ions and struggling to drive the craft away at high speed. Once again his power feeds cut out, his engines choked of power stranding him within the expected blast zone of the cruiser. He saw the Dilgar dreadnought fly past just a couple of miles away, cruising past the flaming Earth Force ship and glowing in the light of the flickering flames. Then the vessel finally exploded, its reactor overloading in a bright expanding star of nuclear power which scooped up Sinclair's fighter and threw it across dozens of miles of space surrounded and battered by shrapnel and debris that crushed the hull and tore through the fuselage in a roar of folding metal and shattering glass.

Hamato held his composure, the flickering screen showing him the fast approaching enemy warship.

"We just lost the Niobe." Patel said solemnly. "Enemy Dreadnought locking on."

"Let's give Gar'shan what he wants." Hamato resolved firmly. "Weapons?"

"We have about a third of our firepower, but I can't guarantee more than a dozen salvoes before the reactors fail."

"It'll be enough." The Admiral said plainly. "Come about, prepare to fire."

The smashed and burning warship slowly turned, those of its guns not molten or blasted from their mounts aligning and pointing their worn muzzles at the incoming enemy ship. Chunks of debris and structure continued to fall from the Earth flagship as it strained into battle, unable to escape and unwilling to let its escorts go unavenged.

"Main sensors are gone Admiral." Patel said.

"Go to local targeting, we'll be passing so close you can sight straight down the barrels." Hamato ordered. "Wait until we are alongside, salvo fire by battery, on my mark."

A burst of laser fire tore into the front of the Hannibal, destroying the last of the plasma mortars in a flare of molten metal. Particle bolts smashed into the tangled hangar deck and pushed away more of the hull, a massive hundred foot long slab of the forward armour peeling back like tin and hanging off the upper hull as flames poured out behind it.

"Wait for the order." Hamato reminded, hoping his hardy ship could survive a few more seconds. "Wait."

The Deathwalker crossed alongside, Omelos bright behind it as it unloaded bolter fire into the EA ship, vast plumes of fire showing where they penetrated the weak armour. The gun turrets on both ships rotated to keep their enemy in sight, merely a few miles apart from each other with their weapons operating at maximum yield.

The bridge rocked around Hamato, a blast of oxygen ruffling his clothing as one of the feed pipes burst and disgorged cold air into the room. He waited a few more seconds, absorbed a few more hits, and then judged that the time was right.

"Now, all batteries, open fire!"

The flank of the Hannibal glowed red, multiple laser cannons jabbing out from the damaged warship and spearing the Deathwalker. The human ship was massively damaged with most of its guns and armour burnt away, but the armour that remained was enough to keep it in one piece, and the guns that remained were enough to slice through the enemy flagship with little difficulty as they passed.

The Deathwalker was shoved bodily sideways as decks opened to space and blew air out into the void, the gusts acting like thrusters and spinning the warship out of control. The entire flank vanished in a matter of seconds, melted away or cut physically from the ship by the intense bombardment from the Hannibal. Hull plates fell away exposing the internal decks and compartments, power systems failed and the massive weapons attached to the warship were tossed away like cheap rubbish, thrown by the human weaponry towards Omelos to join the rest of the debris falling down.

"Hard about!" Gar'shan roared, a jet of flame roaring across one side of the bridge with searing heat. The inferno didn't even faze him, it might as well not even be there. "Cross his stern, roll the ship and bring starboard weapons to bear!"

"We've lost main power!" Mah'ran shouted. "Weapons are inoperative! Engines at ten percent!"

The entire ship jolted as the Hannibal fired a parting shot from one of it's aft turrets, cutting deep into the stern of the Dilgar vessel!"

"Reactor cooling systems hit!" Screamed one of the other officers. "The whole system is cascading, we need to shut it down!"

"Maintain combat power!" Gar'shan roared. "Turn and get me some weapons!"

"Enemy vessel is slowing to make a turn!" Mah'ran shouted over the crumpling and bending hull noises. "She's coming back!"

"Missile clusters, activate them!" Gar'shan ordered. "And order the Carriers to attack!"

The Deathwalker heeled over, barely responding to the helm commands. The single exchange of fire had ripped it to pieces, even badly wounded the Nova had still delivered enough power to annihilate a standard Mishakur, only the heavier armour of Jha'dur's old flagship allowed it to live past the mauling. It wasn't going to make it through a second attack. The four Garasoch class ships now advanced, obeying their Supreme Warmaster and making their run on the Hannibal. They had seen the Earth ship's firepower, knew their own guns would not defeat it before it destroyed them, so made their choice to destroy the flagship with the only method they knew would succeed, a kamikaze attack.

Sinclair flickered his eyes, his head spinning wildly and body feeling light as though he was incredibly drunk. He could see the black of space and blurred edges of his cockpit, and his he looked around was aware of his hands floating before him. Slowly and almost as if he were in a dream he moved his hands back to the control sticks, adopting the semi standing position that was so familiar to him as a Fury pilot.

He made himself focus, cleared his vision and took stock. His computer screen was dark, smashed by a lump of debris that had hit his canopy. Most of the transparent surfaces were gone and the struts by his legs had been sheared off, another couple of inches and his limbs would have gone with them.

He had no idea how his fighter was doing, there were no information displays, no lights of sounds, he couldn't hear anything. He tried to move the control sticks and was rewarded by the stars turning outside. His main engines were down but he could at least still turn, and based on the movement of the planet beyond he was drifting sideways, which was a lot better than falling into the gravity well.

He also became aware that he was leaking air from his suit in at least five places.

It wasn't very noticeable, but probably explained why he was so light headed and increasingly numb. He had some repair patches for his suit, but he wasn't sure he had enough. It was an odd feeling, an unreal one that his mind had accepted in principle but didn't really appreciate the consequences. His chances of surviving more than a few minutes were zero, he would suffocate or freeze to death and had no way of flying to a friendly ship in time, nor would ejecting help. He was finished, and it hadn't been an enemy ace or massive dogfight that killed him, or even a mistake on his part, it had been a ten credit piece of tubing somewhere in the middle of his Fury.

He was drifting towards something, a ring of white and grey tubes that he found familiar, something he knew but had to fight to comprehend. His mind was shutting down, logic and common sense no longer seemed applicable as he moved out of reality and into a peaceful dreamworld. One part of his mind tried to keep him centred, telling him loudly these were Dilgar missiles arming to fire.

He knew he had to do something, and even as his head rolled and he lost the feeling in his legs he was aware that he had to act, to do something before he could do nothing more. More by instinct than design he made a few alterations to his course, pointing his plane a the missiles as they drifted across his nose just a few metres away. He was vaguely aware that he had to shoot them, and also aware that they would explode in a massive fireball he could not escape from. He was also aware that as far as choices went, he only had two. Die now and stop the missiles, or die later and allow them to fire, probably at the Hannibal.

He had enough charge in his capacitors for four shots, it would be enough, and he made his choice.

The blue lights twinkled, growing into one gigantic wave of white brightness which consumed his world in a rising dawn of transition. He didn't mind leaving, the chemical euphoria of his brain preventing him from feeling any grief, but he did vaguely remember his family, and he did recall that he was going to miss them terribly. It was the image David Sinclair held, clear in a fuzzy world, as the light embraced him.

"Open fire!"

The Hannibal unleashed a full power volley from its surviving guns, ripping a second Carrier from the sky, its large forward end twisting and bending in jets of flame and gas. The Nova held its course, moving aside just in time as the flaming wreckage rolled by with a few hundred metres to spare.

"Two remaining ships still coming in!" Patel shouted. "They're moving faster!"

"Alpha strike, nearest one first!" Hamato ordered, the heavy guns turning into position.

"We've only got enough energy for a few seconds fire!"

"Make it count!" Hamato called out. "Fire!"

The guns shuddered, carving deep into the onrushing Carrier with fearsome effect. The green ship lost power and fell out of control, spinning slowly as thrusters fired sparodically and tumbled it towards the planet.

"One left! She's almost on us!" Patel warned energetically. "We've barely got enough energy for one shot per gun!"

"Then take it!"

The Carrier was almost on them, a few light rounds impacting the hull of the Hannibal as it drove at them without hesitation. The heavy guns spoke once more, gouging deep hits into the Dilgar ship and effortlessly tearing through to its deepest levels, wiping out its control and command facilities. Unfortunately it was too close and moving too fast, what the crew failed to accomplish momentum finished for them.

"Collision alert!" Patel yelled.

"Hard to starboard, turn into her!" Hamato ordered. "Do it!"

The Hannibal slowly turned, she couldn't avoid collision but if she turned just enough she could make the impact a glancing one rather than a clean right angle strike. The flaming hulk of the Dilgar ship followed its last course, sparking and glowing as it reached its terminal location.

The Dreadnought had turned to about forty degrees when the Carrier hit, the torn front of the ship wrapping around the rectangular hull with a titanic crush of metal. The Earth Force ship was thrown hard about, its stern swinging away as the force of the Carrier's momentum was transferred. The hull buckled and supports split, but Hamato's gamble paid off. Instead of snapping the ship like a twig the Carrier was deflected, scraping along the warships hull and ripping away countless tons of metal in the process, but not actually destroying the mighty vessel.

The wreck fell away, even more badly mangled but leaving the Hannibal in one piece, its left side almost completely ripped away and mauled beyond easy recognition.

Inside the damage was just as bad, the walls and ceilings of the bridge were crushed flat and several bodies hung in the zero gravity. Most computer screens were dark and the usual chatter was silent.

"Damage report!" Hamato demanded from his central chair, largely unaffected by the smashed walls and roof.

"Sir… communications to the rest of the ship down…" An officer said weakly. "We can't receive reports."

"Commander Patel, weapons and propulsion?" He asked. "Commander?"

She did not answer or move, sitting at her station to his front right. Hamato at once unclipped his seat belts and pushed off to float to her station, catching himself on the large console.

"Commander?" He asked more quietly "Alina?"

She moved gently in her seat, like a reed swaying in a pond as he pressed his fingers to her neck searching for a pulse. There was none.

"Rest now Commander." Hamato said quietly. "Our duty here is done."

On the screen he could see a hint of movement, the computers were too damaged to tell what it was, but he knew. He knew what the contact was and what it was about to do.

"Who is still conscious here?" Hamato barked, to be answered by three voices. "Weapons?"

"Gone sir."

"Engines?"

"Twenty percent sir, we haven't got enough to break orbit."

He set his jaw, biting back the anger. "Support ships?"

"We had nothing on sensors before they went down." One of the officers said. "We're alone."

"Not quite." Hamato said. "The Dilgar flagship is still there."

"Looks like she's heading right for us sir."

"Yes, yes it does." Hamato said in resignation, trying to find a way to escape and always coming to that one final conclusion. "We can't break orbit?"

The officer shook his bloodied head. "No sir."

"Can we move at all?"

"Some sir, we're already moving quite fast, just towards the planet."

Hamato nodded. "At the planet, and a the Dilgar ship."

He unhooked Commander Patel's restraints and lifted her out of the chair.

"Forgive me Alina." He spoke softly as he pushed the body towards the far side of the bridge and took her place, briefly familiarising himself with the computer controls.

"Reactors are becoming unstable Admiral." A report came. "We can't maintain power much longer."

"We don't have to." Hamato said calmly. "I'm assuming helm control, redirect all remaining power to the engines."

"Aye sir."

"Give me ramming speed."

"Weapons are gone, defences are gone, reactors approaching critical mass!" Mah'ran barked as the bridge kept burning. "Estimate three minutes until detonation!"

Gar'shan accepted the news as if it was his dinner bill. "Hold course Captain."

"Sir, the Earth ship is turning towards!" Mah'ran snapped. "She's increasing speed!"

On the main display Gar'shan saw the same thing, the broken but still defiant Dreadnought was slowly facing its bow in his direction. It had no weapons left, it was barely in one piece and would be unable to escape the gravity of Omelos. Of course it seemed escape was not in Hamato's plan.

"Captain, lay in a collision course."

"Collision course sir?"

"That was the order." Gar'shan confirmed. "We'll finish this like soldiers."

Mah'ran stood tall. "Aye sir, collision course."

The engines of the Deathwalker flared, pushing unstable energies from the reactor to the banks of thrusters and jerking forward towards the Hannibal. As it did so the Earth ship dd the same thing, funnelling the last of its power to the drive systems and rushing down towards the enemy flagship and a final spiteful twist of fate.

"You have the bridge Captain." Gar'shan stood and turned away, the thin officer maintaining his air of dignity and regality even in the orange hued smoke filled room. "You were an excellent aide, my compliments."

Mah'ran offered a crisp salute. "Thank you sir, I will not fail in this final task."

"I know." Gar'shan returned the salute. "Carry out my orders."

The Supreme Warmaster left the bridge and walked through the ship, the seconds ticking as the two giants closed on each other. Wires hung from the ceiling and some deck plates were twisted around, the rectangular corridors crushed in several places. Fortunately his path was clear, and he made it to the forward observation room with just under a minute to spare.

He gazed out from the panoramic room, the same room Jha'dur had used so often to plan her offensives, now bearing witness tot he last day of the Imperium. He wanted to be here, he wanted to see this with his own eyes. As Gar'shan looked out the flaming star of the Hannibal was visible growing rapidly as it closed the range. The dark hulled ship was aiming right for the Deathwalker, nose to nose, prow to prow. It wasn't evading, wasn't trying to escape, but it wasn't going to take him down with it.

Gar'shan drew his sword and stood in front of the window, the jagged front of the Hannibal rushing to strike him. He held the blade up, the silver metal glinting as he delivered the warrior's salute.

"Well fought Admiral, it was an honour."

The two ships met with incredible force, millions of tons of metal crushing and twisting around each other as they fused together under the pressure. The Earth ship was far heavier than the Dilgar ship and stronger, it carved deep into the enemy hull like a ship parting the seas, splitting the enemy hull before it as the Nova buckled and accordioned. The momentum of the Earth ship also won out, with the Deathwalker going from full ahead to full reverse in one instant, the Hannibal simply bulldozing it in the opposite direction and pushing it down at high speed towards Omelos.

The reactors overloaded the moment the two ships met and set of a power surge through the ship. While the reactors themselves shut down as the emergency systems cut in it didn't stop the remaining fuel detonating, a blast of fire and power that tore through the Hannibal's hull in a wall of white and yellow. The flames jetted through the interior, consuming the bridge in a mercifully short blast and then crossing the wrecked bow and ravaging the twisted remnants of the Deathwalker, as if the human Dreadnought itself wanted to deliver this final act of destruction in its death throes.

The two ships, now one, fell out of orbit, forced down into the atmosphere where friction glowed around them. They represented one of the larger pieces of debris, something that could level a city if it landed on one as a final show that even in death a Nova class Dreadnought is still the deadliest vessel in this conflict.

William Hague watched them go, saw them turn from twisted wreckage to radiant shooting star, from an ugly collection of scrap to something spectacular and beautiful to the casual observer. He watched but didn't feel, his breathing forced and throat dry. It wasn't just the loss of the flagship and Hamato that had robbed his soul of warmth, he had seen his friend vanish in a massive explosion, had seen him fire into a cluster of nukes, sacrificing himself to stop them from firing.

It was a great and noble thing to do, a matter of honour and dignity, and yet it had not come to anything. He had saved the flagship for a few extra minutes, but ultimately it had still fallen, Hamato was still gone, and now his true friend David Sinclair was also gone, never to share a witty remark, deep philosophy or quiet word or support ever again. Not to him, and even worse not to his young family.

"Ghost… Ghost Squadron." He eventually managed to say emotionally. "Form on me."

The battle scarred warplanes formed up, dropping in on either side of their new squadron leader. He led them past the littered battle zone, past the burning mass of Orbital Command now under fire from several distant EA ships, overpowering the massive fortress and destroying it by degrees.

"Remember what the Commander said, we have a job to do." Hague said. "Fall into combat formation, and let's keep going, show him that we haven't given up!"

The Squadron burned engines and launched themselves at the final area of fighting.

"Stay strong in heart." Hague reminded himself of the first thing Sinclair had told him. "And never yield."

"Confirm that!" Admiral Ferguson demanded. "Confirm that right now!"

His XO Commander Griffin nodded heavily. "It's true sir, we lost the Hannibal."

"It can't be." The Scotsman shook his head. "Admiral Hamato?"

"He's gone sir, no contact, no sign or survivors. He's gone."

Ferguson buried his feelings, keeping professional in the heat of battle and accepting his responsibility.

"Copy to all units, I am assuming command of the fleet."

"Will do sir."

"Continue to engage Admiral Hamato's objectives, keep up the pressure, the enemy fleet is almost gone."

"Sir, looks like Orbital Command is breaking up."

"Finally." Ferguson checked the scans, seeing the distorted and molten facility finally folding in on itself in a series of massive explosions. "Bring those ships back out here, flank Dar'sen and hit him from astern!"

"Aye sir."

"We'll take him from above, Third fleet from head on. Box him in and crush whatever is left."

The Earth Force ships tightened their ring, closing in on the remaining vessels of the Third Strike fleet, firing on them from all directions and herding them into a kill zone. They had fought well and hard, fighting a mobile battle and inflicting plenty of damage on the allies despite incurring massive losses themselves. For most of the time they had somewhere to withdraw to, moving around the planet as Earth advanced, but not anymore. The ships Hamato had sent around the far side of Omelos were now crossing the horizon and engaging Dar'sen from the opposite direction. Ship after ship fell, pinned in place and subjected to massive firepower. The Third Strike Fleet dissolved, holding its ground to the last as the crews kept firing even as their ships burned and died around them.

"It's time." Warmaster Dar'sen announced. "Our duty here is done, our mission complete. We have done all the honour of war requires, our duty to Omelos is now fulfilled."

Dar'sen smiled at his crew as the ship shuddered with plasma impacts, board after board filling with red indicator lights.

"Now we finish our duty to ourselves. Helm, new course, eighty degrees raise, engines to full."

He watched with approval as the front of his ship rose, finally coming to point at the Earth ships flying overhead.

"Our Supreme Warmaster died well, he set an example for us all, as he has ever done." Dar'sen said solemnly. "All ahead flank, take us right through the middle of the enemy fleet. Fire at anything you can and do not let the enemy see us cower or flinch."

His Dreadnought pulled away from the action, fearlessly charging the mass of the Sixth fleet firing down on him. Plasma and laser fire tore into his ship, cutting away areas of the structure and leaving vast molten craters in the surface. It held its course and speed, shooting holes in vessels as it passed but not staying in position long enough to finish a target. Dar'sen wasn't doing this to earn one or two more ship kills, it wouldn't matter anyway at this point. He simply wanted to give his ship and crew the final honour they had earned, a glorious final few moments.

Gunfire rained down on him, a lot of it missing but enough striking home to core through his vessel. It began to role but did not falter or lose its heading. Debris fell from it, flames and burning gas streamed out like a comet as it crossed between cruisers and dreadnoughts, absorbing fire in the process.

Dar'sen remained seated on the bridge as his ship was torn to pieces around him, shrapnel tearing across the bridge in whistling shards of white hot metal that left little smoke trails before his eyes. Consoles were ripped from walls, the floor in front of him disappeared as its support members were knocked out by an Earth Force cruiser and he did not even flinch. Three bodies bounced from the command console in front of him, a thunder of escaping air filling his ears and drowning out all other noise, tugging his jacket and air, yet never making him lose the calm smile he wore.

His ship, or at least all that was left of it, miraculously made it through the human lines. The last few cruisers sunk a couple more plasma bolts into the flying wreck but did not stop it, the ship exited orbit and found empty space before it.

"Beautiful." Dar'sen approved. "Absolutely beautiful. Now turn us around for another run."

The Dreadnought laboured arouns, Omelos coming back into view on the viewscreen and the flashes of the battle above it. But first, nearer than the fight, sat a quintet of Drazi warships.

"Excellent, I knew he wouldn't disappoint me." Dar'sen stood up, stepped over the holes and wreckage of the bridge and took in the view, his last look at Omelos and the warrior who was about to send him to the afterlife.

"A worthy adversary." Dar'sen nodded. "Take us forward, if we have anything that can fire, use it now."

The Dilgar ship advanced, firing from a pair of light cannons in a largely symbolic gesture, but one which earned a respectful nod from Warleader Stro'kath.

"Escort wings will hold here." He ordered. "We do this alone, anyone who violates my order will face me in the arena!"

The Stormhawk advanced, picking up speed and dodging the Dilgar fire. Fighting against a Dreadnought alone would have been suicide for a Drazi ship most of the time, but Dar'sen's ship was so badly shot up this was no challenge. Stro'kath knew it, and so did Dar'sen. It was not about victory or defeat, it was settling one final debt of honour.

Stro'kath personally pressed the fire button, lighting up space with bright yellow particle beams and pulses that had no difficulty blasting into the weakened Dilgar warship. Bright flashes rose from within it as systems exploded and came apart, breaking up the vessel from the inside. The Stormhawk rolled over like a Starfury, pumping firepower into the heart of the Dilgar ship and tearing it to pieces. The Dilgar ship rolled over on flames before its reactors exploded in a bright and glorious finale, giving Dar'sen the end he had wanted.

"Farewell Warmaster." Stro'kath bowed in sincere respect. "Greatest of your kind, and a warrior for the ages."

"Warleader, Admiral Ferguson reports the Third Strike Fleet is destroyed, and with the Orbital Command station gone organised resistance is collapsing."

"Take us back into the fight." Stro'kath ordered, checking the situation on the tactical display. "We will help with the clean up."

The Drazi ships spun and left the wreckage of Dar'sen's warship, the fires in its hull slowly fading in the same way Dilgar resistance also grew dimmer and dimmer.

Armed freighters fell in vast numbers, sliced out of the sky before ever getting close to the Earth Force ships. Shuttles tried to ram their attackers only to be picked off by Starfuries or interceptor rounds, ancient fighters were shot down before they could even see their enemies. With the Third Strike Fleet gone the Dlgar had no more warships and no more experienced commanders, all they had were cadets and civilians in obsolete and hastily converted craft. It was pure slaughter.

The surface of Omelos was also suffering, fragments of wrecked ships and satellites fell from above in vast numbers, much of it surviving to impact the ground in a ripple of kinetic energy. Ground defences were gone, smoking glass sided craters marking their former locations. Some cities burned, victims of stray fire from the battle above or not so stray shots from league and a few Earth Officers who felt a measure of untraceable retribution was necessary. The allied fleet had stopped taking casualties some minutes ago, but the Dilgar still attacked.

Ferguson watched impassively as the vast array of Dilgar auxiliary ships grew smaller and smaller, wiped out in the scores each second.

"This is target practice." He said flatly.

"It's a massacre." Griffin said. "Don't they know its over?"

"Not for them, not yet it isn't." Ferguson shook his head, two dozen tankers falling to one Nova broadside. He took no pleasure from the slaughter, but felt no sympathy either. No one was asking the Dilgar to throw themselves at him, they should have just surrendered. They didn't.

A few minutes later no Dilgar was left alive in orbit, just a massive collection of debris slowly ringing the planet as it fell downwards.

"Any word of surrender from the surface?" Ferguson asked?

"No sir, no answer." Griffin said. "But we do have lots of signals traffic, there's plenty left down there."

"They're preparing for an invasion, damn fools." The Admiral said harshly. "Move us into stationary orbit, and assign targets to bombardment units."

"Yes sir, sending orders."

"Our instructions are to bombard them until they surrender, authorise all ships to do so."

"And if they don't surrender sir?"

"Then I suppose we don't stop firing." Ferguson answered coldly. "Begin firing as soon as we are in position."

He watched the image of Omelos dominating the screen, already a few dots of light falling down towards bases and control facilities. As far as he was concerned it was over, the allies had paid for victory and earned it. Now he just had to convince the Dilgar to understand the same thing.

They had lost, the Imperium had fallen, the Dilgar war was over.


	101. Chapter 101

99

Omelos

Warmaster Sa'goth wiped aside the covering of dust and grit that had fallen on his table, scattering the grey and brown dirt to the floor and showing him the glowing displays inlaid within the surface of the object. The room around him was silent and mostly deserted, the rows of communication consoles and tactical displays left unmanned and silent. No reports filtered in from the Navy, no requests for orders or announcements of success, nothing. Every channel was empty, every direct line to fleet units, defence networks and major bases was blank, just quiet static. They still worked, it was simply that there was nothing on the other end of the channel to answer the transmission.

The only message that came through to the command centre was a constantly recycling message from the allied fleet in orbit, a call telling the Dilgar to surrender and spare further harm to their people, that they would be treated well and would not suffer extermination. After a few minutes Sa'goth had turned it off, he didn't need to hear it constantly blasting in his ears.

He had coordinated the ground defences during the battle, launching missiles, vectoring in fighter squadrons and giving targets to the massive ground based bolter cannons. He had fulfilled his duty to the best of his abilities, but it hadn't made much difference. His gun batteries were gone, fighters and bombers shot down, missiles expended and orbital facilities turned to scrap, many in the process of falling to the ground. Ironically the defences Omelos had to deflect falling debris had also been destroyed, and many of those first generation defence satellites had become the very debris they were meant to protect against.

His second duty had been to command ground forces and repel any invasion. When Gar'shan had given those orders he hadn't actually believed the Allies would do something as foolish as attempt a massive invasion. There was a slim possibility they might try to drop several million Gaim warriors on the planet, an army that was both expendable and incredibly lethal, but as the orbital battle ended it had seemed that the Allied fleet was content to bomb them from safety, waiting until the military was broken or just gave up.

The ground shook with incredible force, an earthquake that shuddered through the structure and forced Sa'goth to grip the table as his feet were shifted out from under him. The lights in the facility went out for several seconds plunging him into pitch blackness and there was a gentle patter of noises as more dust and concrete fragments fell from the roof. Gradually power returned to the abandoned room, and with a grunt of mild annoyance Sa'goth swept aside the dust and grit once again from the displays on the table he stood at.

"They're getting closer." The only other person in the room said, a female officer on Sa'goth's staff called Ha'kis. "Another couple of hits and they'll break through."

The command facility they occupied was in a very secure location, buried not only in the deep bedrock of Omelos but beneath a giant mountain range as well. With so much solid rock above the facility was considered largely impervious to orbital bombardment or nuclear strikes, but unfortunately had not taken into account the power of Hyach Spinal lasers. The highly focused beams were slowly drilling down towards him, the two surviving Dreadnoughts taking it in turns to shoot into the exact same location, a narrow tunnel through the ground drawing closer to the underground facility with each shot.

"I expect so." Sa'goth agreed. "Where do we stand?"

"We have virtually no organised forces left." She said grimly. "All defences our down, our airbases have been destroyed, military supply bases are gone, so are any army camps or barracks."

"Combat troops?"

She shook her head. "Earth Force knew exactly where our fall back positions were, our hidden bases and deployment areas. They were all hit in the first few volleys of the attack, all army commands are gone, we haven't been able to contact anyone more senior than a Combat Master across the whole planet."

Combat Masters were middle ranked officers, roughly equivalent to an Earth Force Major. Sa'goth smiled thinly. "Good work on the part of our friends in the EIA."

"We still have plenty of soldiers, the problem is we can't coordinate them beyond company level, at the very best we might be able to bring together a Brigade."

"Not much use against Earth Force."

"We have no armour, no air support and no ocean going naval forces." Ha'kis said sombrely. "We have no means left to provide active resistance, there's only one major military facility left on the whole planet. This one."

The entire base rumbled and shook again, a load tear sounding as part of the roof above them cracked open and dropped a shower of rock fragments.

"And we're not going to be here for much longer either." Sa'goth observed. "It was probably inevitable once the fleets fell in orbit, there isn't much left for us to do."

"With the bases gone the humans are attacking infrastructure." Ha'kis said finally. "Factories, road links, airports and mag-rail stations. They haven't deliberately targeted population centres, but casualties are mounting."

"Show me the video feeds into the capital." Sa'goth said.

Ha'kis switched a few relays and brought up the images on the main display screen, cycling through various security cameras that looked out over the ancient dwelling. Great pillars of smoke rose from dozens of locations, slanted black columns that stretched into the grey sky. It wasn't the scene of abject destruction he had half expected to see, but it was still a powerful enough image, one that truly hammered home that it was all over. He observed a stack of lasers flash from the sky, wreathed in fire as they ignited the atmosphere around them and dug up several miles of railway, slicing across the landscape in fiery retribution.

"I've seen enough." He turned away.

"Warmaster, we have reports from the surface of several large groups of civilians demanding you step down."

"Me?"

"Yes sir, you are technically master of the Imperium."

Sa'goth chuckled to himself. "I suppose I am, last of the Warmasters."

It hadn't really occurred to him earlier, he had been too busy trying to piece together a final battle plan that he hadn't realised his position in the chain of command, with Gar'shan and then Dar'sen gone, it all came down to him. Strictly speaking he had the right to name himself Supreme Warmaster, but that just didn't seem quite right to him.

"The crowd looks like a mix of students, objectors, escaped political prisoners, all those deemed unfit for combat service and used in a support and admin role." Ha'kis said. "Those who were hesitant about the war, but never displayed any evidence of treachery so could not be executed."

"With no organised security forces there is no one now to put them down and crush this riot of theirs." Sa'goth said. "By the time the general populace hears of this it will be too late, these people will be in power." Sa'goth laughed grimly. "If the populace even cares, maybe they will welcome this civilian inspired government after what we put them through."

He took a deep breath and straightened his uniform, then listened to the human message spoken in plain Dilgar.

"Bit of an accent, but good pronunciation."

"I wonder how many humans know our language?" Ha'kis considered. "It is ironic the last people to speak Dilgar will be the race that defeated us."

"They won't be the last." Sa'goth said confidently. "The sleeper ships escaped, millions of us are still out there taking the Dilgar seed to plant in more fertile ground. Our people will endure."

He listened again to the message, aware that it was really directed at him solely. It was quite a responsibility, the entire planet was his to command, a level of power that even Jha'dur hadn't quite mastered during her term as dictator. Of course in Sa'goth's case he had only been leader for a few hours and while he had complete power, there was very little he could actually do with it.

"Do you think they will honour their word?" Ha'kis asked.

"The humans?"

"Yes, do you think they will be merciful?"

"Probably, they could have burned us to the ground by now, they haven't." Sa'goth reasoned. "They have no reason to wait unless they are genuine in their desire to save Omelos and be content with installing a new regime."

"They don't know do they? About what will happen to this world?"

"No, no they don't." Sa'goth agreed. "No one out there knows. The scientists were killed in the missile facility, the Council is gone, the last of the Intelligence community is stood right here." He shrugged. "When we die, so dies the secret. It was what Gar'shan ordered."

"Why?"

"Because if they knew they might try and evacuate us, put us on human colonies to be raised as humans but with different blood. Gar'shan believed death was better than the dissolution of the Dilgar spirit, so death we will have."

"Except for the sleeper ships?"

"Except for them, they will carry our pure blood and spirit to the stars." Sa'goth confirmed. "To rebuild and make a new place for ourselves."

"That's good." Ha'kis said. "So there is still hope?"

"Yes." Warmaster Sa'goth said for the last time, just before the ground opened and the lights went out for the last time. "There is hope."

The massive beam of light left a ring of scattered cloud in its wake, a hole like the eye of a hurricane cored through and immolated by the intense Hyach spinal laser. It burned the air, a shard of white hot light that sucked air into the inferno, a storm of cool white gas whirling around it like a vortex as it dug into the rock and broke through those last few hundred yards to the facility below. The ground shifted, sliding inwards to bury the underground facility, flattening its rooms and corridors in a rising cloud of brown dust and dirt that was swept up in the turbulence of the laser blast, then tugged by the air and slowly, very slowly dispersed.

"That's it." Commander Griffin leaned back from his station. "Sensors show the final command centre has been destroyed."

Admiral Ferguson accepted the report with a nod. "Any other communication hubs?"

"Just planetary media and News services." Griffin said. "All high level military channels have gone dark, just some random local communication between surviving army units."

"Do we have communication with the Dilgar rebels?" he asked. "Anything on those guys trying to take control?"

"Admiral Cashic has a channel to them sir."

"Alright, let them know through her that the military leadership is gone, and they are the only authority left on the planet."

"Yes sir, it looks like they are taking over the Media and establishing local rule in cities."

"We'll give them fire support, you can bet some one will try to stop them." Ferguson said. "But we won't put people on planet."

"Probably help sir."

"Short term, probably, but not in the long term. If they take control with Earth troops backing them up they'll just look like puppets. They need to do it themselves, prove they are working just for the Dilgar. If they don't they'll never have a stable government."

"We're running out of valid strategic targets sir." Griffin reminded. "We're going to have to hit other facilities soon."

"I don't think that will be necessary." Ferguson shook his head. "We've done our job, we've cleared away opposition to a popular revolt. We'll just sit here and let it unfold however it's going to unfold."

He flicked through some of the Dilgar news channels, some stations had already broken free and were for the first time broadcasting the truth of the situation, announcing the utter defeat of the military and death of the Warmasters. The started talking about new leaders, naming several prominent civilians and administrators who called for a surrender to end the suffering of their people.

Put a couple of Frigates in low orbit and keep them ready to provide direct fire support to the revolution." Ferguson said, though revolution was probably too strong of a term. "All other ships, cease fire and withdraw from orbit."

The cease fire order cascaded down the fleet, the guns falling silent as the enemy ceased to exist. The EAS Temeraire fired the final shots of the war, destroying a heavy alloy refinery in the middle of a desert on the southern continent. As the heat and flame of those last plasma rounds cooled and vanished, so the thunder of the barrage dimmed across the planet, echoing a few last times before leaving forever.

"And that is all." Ferguson exhaled. "All ships of the Liberation Navy will stand down from Action Stations and assume Defence Stations. Set second degree readiness across the fleet and begin cycling fighters for rest and refuelling."

"Yes sir." Griffin set to work.

"Draw us back to a quarter million miles and assume basic defence formation, just in case they've still got one or two tricks up their sleeves."

"I wouldn't put it past them sir."

"Me neither, but honestly I think they're spent."

The allied ships turned away from Omelos and waited for it to decide its own fate, instead focusing on their own wounded and towing crippled ships to the rally point.

"I don't believe they actually blew the gate." The Admiral said, still quite aghast. "If they had done it earlier it could have taken months or years to find Omelos again."

"Yes sir." Griffin agreed. "We'd have to search the whole Caliban Sector, and maintain the fleet at readiness across the League."

"Odd that they didn't do that." Ferguson mused. "Think they had a death wish?"

"Maybe they did sir." Griffin nodded. "Burn out instead of fading away."

"Have the ELINT ships set up temporary beacons, then bring in the medical and Belt Alliance ships." Ferguson ordered. "We'll evacuate the wounded and bring our damaged ships home, rest of the fleet will hold here until we get orders from Earth Force Command."

"What orders do you expect sir?"

Ferguson smiled, the first genuine smile in a while. "Just two. Accept the Dilgar surrender, then return to base."

"Return to base." Griffin repeated, savouring the words. "We better get a parade."

"Yeah, it would be nice." Ferguson agreed. "We earned it."

The Dilgar surrender was announced much sooner than Ferguson expected, just a few hours after the bombardment stopped and the new government seized office. The new administration was built around the Dilgar Civil Service, which turned out to be incredibly good fortune for the people of Omelos. During the war those who for whatever reason had been judged unable to serve in the field ended up serving the state in another way, as part of local or planetary government. As individuals they had very limited power and influence, but as a single body they were massively powerful, second only to the military. With the Warmasters gone and no other Staff level officers left alive on Omelos, the Administrators took over.

They already knew the mechanisms of power and government and already had people at every level of bureaucracy across the planet. It wasn't so much a transition as a simple continuation of everyday life, only the people right at the top actually changed their positions.

The new ruler of Omelos was the former Surgeon General, a former army medic named Soj'wen who while a contemporary of Gar'shan and Dar'sen had not embraced the popular military culture. He had served in the forces, done his duty to Omelos and still wore uniform, but he had objected to the war and as a result was sidelined from high government. His exemplary record of service meant he would have the respect of the population and authority over any remaining military units, but his opposition stance to the war and aggression of his superiors suited the Earth Alliance, and through human influence the rest of the League too.

Soj'wen was sworn in during a very brief ceremony broadcast across the planet, declining the title of Supreme Warmaster, or 'Supreme' anything, and opting for the more even title of President. There was no immediate protest to his inauguration, perhaps because Omelos was so deeply in shock of recent events, and the ceremony went without a hitch. They even managed to find a few soldiers loyal to the ideals of the new regime to form a military guard of honour for the new President and add further legitimacy to his position.

Soj'wen ordered all Dilgar forces to stand down with no flourishes or grand speeches, just a plain simple order to stop. Many Dilgar soldiers faced a hard choice, to fight in defiance of orders or to do as told and surrender. It brought conflict between their tradition of never giving up and their culture of obedience to higher authority. Many chose suicide, and several units vanished in the hope of pursuing a guerrilla war against a human invasion that would never come. Most however chose to obey orders, and put down their arms.

For the most part the Omelos garrison was made up of second line troops, the experienced veterans or fanatical warriors were lying dead on Balos or Tithalis, the Omelos forces were little more than glorified police officers or security guards more used to patrolling facilities and looking for intruders. They did as they were told, and by three in the morning Earth standard time on the twenty fourth of October, the Dilgar war come to an official end.

It happened so fast that the diplomatic team tasked with accepting the surrender was still on its way, and it wasn't until the following day that the ship finally arrived, an Abbai diplomatic courier ship equipped with the latest facilities and comforts of home. The Abbai had gone to great lengths to customise each of the guest quarters to suit the individual who travelled in them, making a surrounding considered comfortable by their respective race.

David Sheridan was quite impressed by the suite he had been given, a four room set of quarters much more spacious and luxurious than any Earth made warship or station, and a good rival to Earth Force One. The décor wasn't exactly to his taste, with the Abbai impression of Earth luxury being base don entertainment broadcasts and pictures on the Galaxy net. The colours were too rich, the furniture too plush and brash, and while comfortable it was in his view incredibly tacky, he slightly despaired that this was how the Abbai viewed human high society. It took him a while to realise it was probably gleaned from images of film star and celebrity homes, and in that respect was a faithful representation.

He made a mental note to show the Abbai a more classy side of humanity after the formalities.

He looked up from his notes on Dilgar history as his door chimed, a tingling sound like falling water that nicely fitte din with Abbai aquatic origins.

"Come in." He called, and the door slid open revealing Ambassador Itala. The fairly rotund Abbai woman walked respectfully into his quarters and bowed as the door slid shut.

"Ambassador Sheridan, the Captain tells me we are just a few minutes from Omelos."

The human smiled. "Great, but not the sort of news an Ambassador brings in person."

"No." Itala agreed. "May I sit?"

"Please." Sheridan nodded. "You're people put in a lot of effort here, looks really, er, nice."

"We try to bring a sense of comfort to our guests." Itala replied.

"I do have one or two suggests, but they can wait until later. What can I help you with?"

"The Dilgar." Itala said heavily. "I have a feeling that even though we've won the war we still have a great fight ahead of us."

"We probably do, a lot of people want the Dilgar punished as a race." Sheridan agreed. "And after the losses the League fleets took in the last battle they'll be screaming for blood."

"I fear that might be the case." Itala nodded. "My government and the Hyach are firmly behind Earth, we've seen enough blood spilt these last few years, but the rest of the League is feeling less benevolent."

"We know, and we have certain economic incentives to make sure they abide by the treaty." Sheridan said. "The policy is more or less finalised and the whole League knows it."

"Yes, I recall." Itala nodded. "But after the battle yesterday, what happens if they attack anyway?"

"If someone tries to bomb Omelos?"

"Yes, will a human ship actually fire on a League vessel to protect the planet?"

Sheridan shook his head. "Now you're asking me something I can't answer."

"But what is the procedure for such a thing?"

"I guess it rests with the local Earth Commander, whoever is in charge of the military forces."

"Would they do it?"

"Depends on the officer, but if he had orders to protect the planet. Yeah."

"Even after all this? You would still fight for the Dilgar?"

They aren't our enemies anymore." Sheridan said. "As of today they are a race with no military, a crippled economy and no chance of defending themselves in the galaxy. We promised them mercy in the armistice, and we'll deliver on it."

"Earth Force ships protecting the weak and innocent?" Itala suggested.

"That's the idea, because we'll be rounding up the guilty."

Itala smiled. "To do that, to not act on your hatred for the Dilgar, it shows something."

"Shows what?"

"We Abbai knew you were fighters and soldiers, we tried to rouse that aspect of you to help defeat the Dilgar, something your race did very well. But we weren't sure what we come next, truthfully we didn't really care. We needed to stop the Dilgar at any cost, and by bringing Earth into the war we saw a simple means to an end."

"But now the war is over you are wondering what you let out of the box?" Sheridan guessed.

"That's right, we put Earth in the middle of League politics not really knowing who you were. You could easily have been as bad as the Dilgar, but we had to act, to do something. It was, how would you say it…?"

"A gamble?"

"An act of faith."

Itala rested in the ostentatious chair.

"But you didn't conquer the League despite the face we could offer no resistance. You could have tripled your empire, but you didn't. Earth didn't beat us down, or force us into alliances and treaties. You free us, then offer help."

"Ambassador, I can't claim Earth Policy is a pure act of charity…"

"No, no of course not. You have your own reasons, I know that." Itala recognised. "But what you are doing is like nothing I've seen before. And on top of all that, you are offering the same help to Omelos."

"That's right."

"We saw a lot of the Dilgar aggression in you Ambassador Sheridan, but now the war is over we see perhaps some Abbai compassion in there too."

Sheridan chuckled slightly. "We're a complicated race."

"Very." Itala agreed readily. "But in my opinion, you are a good race. I don't hold doubts about that anymore, and I am glad Earth is taking a leading role in the galaxy."

"We're not all as open and honest as you might think." Sheridan answered. "We have practical reasons for rebuilding the League, making sure our new allies are strong in case of a future threat to us all."

"Which is prudent." The Abbai said. "But even so you could have achieved a similar result through conquest much as the Dilgar tried."

Sheridan nodded. "I guess it just isn't really us. Not anymore."

"But once it was?"

"You know that yourself Ambassador." Sheridan said. "Plenty of humans would do as the Dilgar did, just not anymore. We grew out of it, our people faced off with nuclear weapons that would ruin our world, and we stopped, took a step back, and found a new way. The Dilgar didn't, they nuked each other, poisoned their world, then had to expand to find anew one."

"You think humanity could have done the same?"

"There by the grace of God go I." Sheridan recited. "Wouldn't have taken much, and on the other hand might not have taken much for the Dilgar to have become more like us. The President knows this, and he hopes that today is that moment in Dilgar history where they stop, step back, and change their minds."

"Do you think they will change?" Itala asked honestly.

"Anyone can change when they see the alternatives, and for the Dilgar the alternative is annihilation." Sheridan said. "They have it inside them to be better people, and we'll bring it out of them."

"A very Abbai philosophy Ambassador." Itala said with a smile.

"We're only human." Sheridan answered happily. "But most of the time that's enough."

The Allied worlds chose the Hyach Dreadnought Venerable Force as the venue for the surrender, but not until a swift and heated round of discussion. Originally the surrender was due to be signed on the EAS Charlemagne, Admiral Ferguson's flagship and with the loss of the EAS Hannibal the overall flagship of the Liberation Navy. A Nova class ship was certainly imposing enough, and the symbolism of signing the surrender on such an explicit statement of human military power fitted perfectly with the feeling the media wanted back home. Unfortunately while the Nova was indeed intimidating it was also a pure combat ship with nothing on board that did not directly aid battle.

With no gravity, cramped corridors and a reasonable amount of battle damage the Earth Diplomatic Corps wanted a different ship, one where the symbolic signing of the surrender would look suitably dignified and could be broadcast galaxy wide. Admiral Ferguson and Warleader Stro'kath still defended the symbolism of signing the surrender on the Charlemagne anyway, and did not relent until someone pointed out the only place large enough to hold the party in comfort would be the crew galley and mess hall. Even then it took a direct order from the Joint Chief to quell Ferguson's protest.

The Hyach ship was physically much bigger than the human vessel extending for nearly two kilometres in length, a distance necessary for the potent weaponry it mounted. While it didn't have the brutal and businesslike appearance of a Nova it was still intimidating enough to scare most enemies into avoiding it, and had the major bonus of artificial gravity and a large diplomatic chamber suitable for the signing. There was also the added symbolism of Earth's generosity after the war, that they would allow one of the longest besieged League races to hold the surrender on their ship. Many on Earth felt the Syontar would have been the perfect choice, or even the Pyrotinia, but unfortunately both ships were too battle damaged to function in the role.

The various League and human officials assembled on the ship, gathering in the large formal chamber within the great Hyach warship. One single table was placed in the centre with two chairs, one on either side. They simple metal pieces of furniture, and on the table was the document of surrender and two traditional human fountain pens.

The pen and paper was not strictly necessary, most official documents were verified by computer palm scan and DNA encoding to guarantee the person representing a given party was who they claimed to be. The signing of a name was purely for show, to give a traditional and timeless image to the people of Earth, the League, and everywhere else beyond that the two sides of this war had come together, toughed the same piece of paper, and moved on.

The Dilgar party arrived by diplomatic shuttle, quite possibly the last of its kind and one of a bare handful of space capable vessels from Omelos not already destroyed in the battle. It docked and came to a rest without incident, its occupants escorted by a mix of human and League soldiers through to the chamber and the host of people and cameras that watched their every move.

Soj'wen held himself straight and with dignity, appearing as an equal among these gathered people. He wore a military uniform as befitted his rank and status, but had not brought any weapons. As he advanced the room watched in utter silence, no one moving and most barely breathing as they witnessed the event. Only two people moved beside Soj'wen, one was Admiral Ferguson who would be the first to sign on behalf of the Allies, and the other was Francis O'Leary who would act as translator.

Francis was nervous, insanely jitteringly nervous, but he fought hard to hide it and project a calm aura about himself. He was acutely aware the images of this event were going out live, viewed by his family, friends, people of influence he respected, his boss in the EIA and hundreds of billions more in the League, Centauri Republic, Narn Regime and beyond. He wasn't the focus of attention, but he would be seen, noticed, and if he screwed up, tripped or otherwise embarrassed himself it would become part of the archives of every world in the galaxy.

He was also aware that a lot rested on his ability to translate effectively. On this matter he was more confident, he'd held conversations with Dilgar before today and had been complimented on his grasp of their language. Hopefully he'd say the right thing today, though his mind did warn him that if he lost focus he could be responsible for the reopening of hostilities. Maybe.

The three individuals stood in the middle of the room, looking at each other. The Dilgar leader gave Francis a quick look before dismissing him and focusing on Ferguson who stood in fine dress uniform. Francis translated as the Dilgar began.

"He say's his name is Soj'wen, duly appointed President of the Dilgar Republic. The Imperium is gone, the Emperor dead, the Council of Warmasters dissolved forever. He says those who led his people into this disaster, this needless war they could not win will answer for their vanity in the after life, while we who are left alive will be forced to answer it in this one."

Soj'wen was clearly speaking more to his people than he was to Ferguson, but it was necessary part of the surrender and the humans waited.

"He says the Dilgar alive face the hardest of all challenges, they must live on." Francis said. "They must rebuild, find a new courage deeper than the bravery of the soldier, and that is the commitment to life of a survivor. There is no shame and no guilt in losing to a superior foe as Earth is, and Omelos may stand proud in its courage in choosing to go on."

Francis noted he had named Earth as the victor, not the League.

"He now says that he formerly offers the surrender of the Dilgar Republic, its colonies and military forces. He offers the people and leaders of the Earth Alliance his solemn vow that he will not take further hostile action against us or our allies, and wishes to join us in creating a better galaxy."

"Mr President." Ferguson said, with Francis translating. "On behalf of the President of the Earth Alliance I accept the surrender of the Dilgar Republic. We declare all hostilities between our two worlds to be over, and we welcome the Dilgar as colleagues and partners in the galaxy."

He took a pen from desk and handed it to Soj'wen, who understood what it was. The document was written in two columns, one in English, one in Dilgar. The President sat down and with careful strokes signed his name in his native alphabet, a sharp edged scrawl that was laced in symbolism. He returned to his feet, and then Ferguson sat down, turned the document towards him, and put his name on the paper in the space that Admiral Hamato would have filled had his plan gone well. The human Admiral felt a slight pang as he took the place of his old friend, but knew Hamato would have approved.

With the main document signed it now fell to each League world in turn to take their seat and sign their own surrender documents with President Soj'wen and thus end the war across the League. Stro'kath was first, the burly warrior scribbling his mark roughly with the human implement on the page. Next followed Itala, and Brocat, and each of the other League ambassadors until finally each major power that had fought the Dilgar had now recognised the war was over, all before the eyes of the galaxy and all enforced by Earth Alliance Law.

Ferguson resumed is place in front of the desk, facing Soj'wen, the two men visible across the galaxy as virtually everyone watched.

"The war is over." The human Admiral said with a growing smile. "I offer you peace."

He extended his hand above the table.

"I accept it." Soj'wen replied, and took Ferguson's hand, shaking it firmly in human tradition. As he did so the room erupted in shouts and cheers, cries of unrestrained joy from human and alien alike. Even Soj'wen allowed a slight smile, though not much more. He knew the scale of the task ahead, the difficulty necessary in breaking the grip of the Warmasters which still held firm on Omelos despite their absence. He did not expect to see Omelos truly change in his lifetime, but he was optimistic, and now he had friends willing to help. He made his peace.

With the ceremony over Soj'wen was escorted back to his shuttle, and from there returned to Omelos to further explain to his people what had happened and convince them to accept it. No humans or members of the League would officially set foot on Omelos which he would portray as a victory, but unofficially the EIA already had a team picked to work with the new government and help solidify its grip on power.

Francis breathed a long sigh of relief as the formality faded into celebration. Drinks were brought out and the cameras left as the ceremony turned into celebration. The officers and diplomats mixed and mingled, began sharing stories and working out some informal deals relating to the rebuilding. Francis had spotted the CEO's of several Earth based Mega-corporations and quietly observed them as they made their way across to various senior League officials to begin pitching their deals.

"Didn't take them long huh?" David Sheridan said quietly into Francis' ear.

The younger man grinned. "No, guess it didn't Mr Ambassador."

"Please, David." The man smiled warmly. "Nice job up there, nervous?"

"Absolutely terrified." Francis admitted.

"You held it together really well, nice bluff work." Sheridan complimented. "You know, with a poker face like that I think I should introduce you to the gaming circle."

"What's that?"

"Just a couple of us guys who get together, play a few hands of poker." Sheridan nudged. "Very selective, your boss is in it, couple of senior Earth Force people, few diplomats. Invitation only, we only take a certain sort of person."

Francis picked up on the underlying meaning, that Sheridan was offering him a place in a group that had more than poker on the agenda. He had started to become aware that there were groups within groups, that even within the EIA there were factions and agendas, and that not all those agendas matched his belief of what Earth needed. He was reminded of Bester and the animosity between him and his two most trusted colleagues, Jenny and Chapel. If they thought something was wrong, and if Director Durban was offering him a position of secret trust, Francis knew he had to accept.

"I think I'd like to try my hand, but I can't say I'm much good."

"Good, I get tired of cleaning out General Denisov." Sheridan laughed. "Now there's fresh blood."

The young man picked up a drink from a nearby table and sipped it quietly. He had worked before with Sheridan and trusted him, knew that underneath that inoffensive exterior lay a sharp mind and deep understanding of how people worked. This offer had to have come from Durban, but apparently he couldn't deliver it in person for one reason or another, so had trusted David Sheridan with the matter. It certainly intrigued him, hooked his interest, and seemed certain to keep him very busy in the future.

"So what do you think of our new friends?" Sheridan prompted.

"The Dilgar?" Francis wondered. "Funnily enough I think the new guy is a lot like the old guy."

Sheridan grinned. "Very rigid, unfeeling, playing to the media with every word and gesture?"

"You noticed?"

"From the second he walked in." The older man nodded. "He's a product of the same system, the same stratified class system of privilege that gave us the Warmasters, except he was passed over because he didn't support war with the League."

"So that makes him a good guy?" Francis asked. "If he didn't support the war?"

"Depends on his reasons." Answered Sheridan. "Did he oppose it because he thought it was morally wrong to enact genocide, or because he knew the Dilgar would lose?"

Francis frowned. "So he could be just as bad as the others, just with less influence?"

"That's what we need to find out." Sheridan said. "But honestly, even if he doesn't have a problem wiping out worlds as far as we know there is no blood on his hands. That makes him acceptable to Earth, and we have to work with him. He's the only figure the Dilgar will obey and respect, without him the whole planet could fall into civil war as old rivalries surface. Even if he is morally repugnant we have to use him, the lesser of two evils."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"No, but that's how things keep moving out here." Sheridan offered. "Not always pretty, but far better than the alternative."

Sheridan finished his own drink, and placed the empty glass aside.

"The next job is to enforce the terms of surrender, did you see them?"

"Not really, I was a little preoccupied to read the paper." Francis admitted.

"Of course you were, big responsibility." Sheridan slapped him on the shoulder. "Basically we're going to set up a war crime tribunal, investigate any reports of mistreatment and bring those responsible to justice. We have a lot of evidence, the Dilgar were proud of what they did, never hid it, but it'll probably be a short trial."

"Why is that?"

"Because most of them are already dead." Sheridan shrugged. "We have confirmation of fatalities here and at Balos, as far as we can tell virtually the entire Dilgar command structure is gone. All the Warmasters are accounted for, all their underlings and minions are dead or expected to be confirmed dead soon, there simply won't be anyone to stand trial."

Francis nodded. "Looks like we did too good of a job up there."

"Looks like." Sheridan agreed with a chuckle. "But beside that we also need to confine the Dilgar to Omelos, remove their ability to build large starships and restrict them to ships without jump drives so they can't go wandering the galaxy causing trouble."

"Restricting them to Gate travel." Francis guessed. "Which I suppose we'll own."

"Earth will put a new gate in Omelos orbit and control the activation codes, basically we're imprisoning them in their own system."

"What about the colonies?" Francis asked. "As I recall they were pretty small, but still…"

"We're moving the populations back here." Sheridan said. "Putting them back on Omelos where we can keep an eye on them. The whole race will be on this one world where they can't cause trouble. As for the Colonies themselves, we're giving them to the League."

"Not a bad deal, four star systems." Francis said. "What did that cost?"

"We ceded them the Colony rights in exchange for taking the Dilgar Quantium 40 stockpiles, the League though the Dilgar only had a few tons of the stuff."

"They had more?"

Sheridan winked conspiratorially. "Lots, lots more. Lets just say we just made a profit out of this war, we're taking home enough Quantium to fund our expansion for the next twenty years."

Francis smiled. "Good deal."

"The fine art of diplomacy." Sheridan smiled. "And Poker, never let your opponent see all your cards."

As Francis' eyes scanned the crowd they fell upon someone he barely recognised, and at once felt deep embarrassment at his lack of perception. Talking with a couple of Naval officers was Heather, his partner and probably his future wife too. He was taken aback because she was no longer wearing her trademark baggy clothing and shock of purple hair, but was dressed in a startlingly elegant evening dress and bore immaculate makeup and hair styling. It was a side to her he hadn't seen before, and it really knocked him back.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to spot her." Sheridan laughed.

"I didn't know she was heading out here." Francis said in surprise.

"It was a last minute thing, but I had a little space on my ship and she didn't have anything pressing to do…" He shrugged. "Go say hello."

The young agent grinned. "Thanks."

"Oh, there was something else, just before you go." Sheridan paused him. "We finished the scan of Jha'dur's ship from Balos. It was pretty beat up, but we found two puzzles. First the damage pattern, a lot of the impacts were consistent with laser hits inflicted by the Nemesis, but some other hits looked like nothing in our inventory, perfect clean slices with very little residual melting. There's nothing in our arsenal, or the League arsenal that inflicts such surgical damage."

Francis nodded at the puzzle. "And the second thing?"

"We finished analysing the organic remains on the ship, ran some DNA sequences and identified all the crew members. All except one."

Francis rolled his eyes, knowing immediately what Sheridan was about to say. "She wasn't on there was she?"

"We're still searching the area, and we're keeping a lid on it." The Diplomat said. "But no, I don't think we got her. Jha'dur is still out there, maybe dead, hell hopefully dead, but she might not be. Just so you know."

"Looks like we're still going to have a job looking for her then." Francis guessed. "Keep the EIA busy for a while."

"Unfortunately I think you're right." Sheridan confirmed. "Anyway, enough shop talk, get over there and start mingling before those Navy guys try and sweep her away."

Francis smiled and bid farewell to Sheridan for the time being, and then walked across the room to the vision moving easily and confidently among the powerful and influential. She spotted him heading her way and changed her path to meet him.

"Hey." She greeted. "Well now you got your face shown across the galaxy, so much for any future undercover work."

"Damn, what a pity." Francis smiled widely. "Guess I'll have to dice with death another way."

She smiled. "All over then?"

"All over out here." He nodded. "But I think we'll have lots to do back home."

"And I bet some of it will be work." She grinned. "I've got plans, and you're part of them."

"Works out well." He said softly. "So you want to get married then?"

"Yeah, sure." Heather answered as if agreeing to lunch. "Sounds like fun."

They leaned in and shared a kiss.

"It's a new age." He said. "A golden age."

"Yes it is." Heather agreed brightly. "For us too."

At the other end of the room Ambassador Brocat made his excuses and left a group of human businessmen, content that he had laid the foundations of a beneficial deal for his homeworld of Brakir. Certainly this was a bidders market, Brakir needed outside help and the human industries could charge whatever they wanted to provide it, Brakir had to pay. However Brocat had found that there were several human companies all trying to win work, and that competition had helped keep prices lower than he expected. While his position was weak Brocat had not risen to the heights of power in the Syndicracy by failing to seize a business opportunity when it presented itself. He was eminently confident in his ability to play the market, pit the human corporations against each other and bring home the best deal for his race.

He exchanged pleasantries with a few human officers before arriving at his destination, a small gathering of fellow ambassadors. One was Xyten of the Vree, the other Shala'dan of the Drazi recently freed from the Abbai homeworld. Both greeted him with a quiet nod.

"Gentlemen, enjoying the soiree?" He enquired.

"The drink isn't bad." Nodded the Drazi. "Bit weak for my tastes."

"A lot of money in this room, a lot of influence." Brocat spoke carefully. "The fires are still burning on Omelos and already the galaxy has moved on, exchanging battleships for merchant convoys and wire transactions for intel reports. Truly remarkable."

"Trust a Brakiri to focus on finance!" Shala'dan laughed gruffly.

"Life blood of the galaxy my friend." Brocat said over his glass. "We must look to the future, that has always been my philosophy."

Limak Brocat was considered a visionary among Brakiri, not only because he was Chief Executive of Ab Hakil, which was edging ahead of its rivals to claim the title of biggest company on Brakir and all the prestige that came with that, he had also successfully predicted the Dilgar threat and warned his people against it. They hadn't listened and it had nearly killed them, now they hung on every word Brocat said. He firmly advocated pursuing the war despite their weakened state as a show of support and gratitude to humanity, and when he returned he would continue to carry that message of tightening the bonds of trade and commerce with Earth.

Naturally Brocat stood to profit greatly from such a business relationship, and his company was already looking at switching production from warships to freighters, but in the longer term he could see the Earth Alliance was turning into a rising star and it made good political and business sense to follow them.

"And speaking of the future," He prompted. "What did you find?"

Shala'dan cleared his throat and made sure nobody was within earshot before beginning.

"We we're scanning for Dilgar ships in the inner system, making sure they weren't hiding close to the sun to confuse our sensors. There weren't any ships, but the Vree, well, they found something."

"Found what exactly?"

Xyten's translator croaked into life, the volume turned down to a whisper.

"Our more advanced scans found an anomaly in the Dilgar sun, a magnetic distortion."

Brocat frowned. "Forgive me, I'm no astrophysicist so pretend I don't know what any of these means."

"The anomaly is destabilising their sun." Xyten said, oblivious to the concept of sarcasm.

Brocat pricked up his interest. "In what way?"

"The anomaly is creating bubble of trapped stellar material, the amount is constantly growing." The Vree explained. "Soon it will exceed the strength of the magnetic field."

"Then what?" Brocat asked.

Shala'dan smiled as he answered. "Boom."

"Boom?"

"The stellar material will be released as an explosive event." Xyten stated. "A nova that will engulf each planet in the inner system with intense radiation. Including Omelos."

Brocat immediately grasped what he was being told. "What will this radiation do to the planet?"

"It will strip away the upper atmospheric layers that protect the planet from stellar radiation. With those gone the planet will be bombarded by the increased solar activity." The Vree described dispassionately. "In a matter of days all surface organisms will die of radiation poisoning."

"A particularly slow and unpleasant death." Shala'dan mentioned with relish. "Clearly this is the will of Droshalla."

"I'm not really a believer in define intervention, but this is certainly something that could convert me." Brocat considered. "It's perfect, we get to see the Dilgar wiped out as a race but do not risk burning our bridges with Earth by bombing them ourselves."

"And even better, all Dilgar colonists are being forcibly returned here." Shala'dan mentioned. "Their whole race in one place at one time next to this ticking time bomb."

"Does have a certain beautiful coincidence to it." Brocat agreed. "WE get everything we want, all we have to do is make sure nobody else knows."

"The Humans won't know, their scans won't pick it up." The Drazi stated. "But we need to keep the Hyach and Abbai away, if they find out they will try to warn the Dilgar and evacuate them."

"Yes, and we better watch the Markab too." Brocat said.

"Markab? They want the Dilgar dead as much as us, and this way, well it's just perfect for them. Divine intervention!"

"True, but remember Valna is a close friend to Earth now. He might personally wish this, but would be compelled to tell Earth if he found out."

"Hmm." Shala'dan agreed. "I will not tell Stro'kath either then for the same reason, let it be a welcome surprise."

"We must keep this quiet, can we trust the Vree to keep this to themselves?"

Xyten nodded. "We will not speak of this to others, we will not mourn the Dilgar."

"Few will." Brocat agreed. "I suspect most humans will be glad to see them gone too, but their leaders have made this policy and we must abide by it."

He glanced across the room, watching to see if anyone had heard their conversation. Apparently nobody had, and nearby a few young human officers laughed and joked obliviously.

"We will not speak of this again." Brocat decided. "We will veto any missions toward the Dilgar sun, keep this hidden, and then act with surprise when the sun explodes."

"It will not be for long." Shala'dan stated.

"Two or three years." Xyten clarified. "There will be no obvious warning until minutes or hours before the anomaly bursts."

"And with all stellar ships banned under the treaty, no way for even a handful of them to escape in time." Brocat nodded. "Oh yes, this is working out perfectly. Maybe your friend Droshalla really is taking a hand in matters."

"It is the fiery retribution they deserve." Shala'dan grunted. "An appropriate death."

"Indeed." Brocat finished his drink. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to speak to a man called William Edgars. I suggest you two also mingle, talk, and act normally."

The Drazi Ambassador nodded. "Think they knew? The Warmasters?" he pondered. "This impending doom might hav ebeen the reason for their war."

"Perhaps, but we will never know." Brocat said flatly. "Come, we now have two reasons to celebrate. Enjoy the party, we won."

The Kha'ri Building

Narn Homeworld.

Ta'kai sighed as she walked into the chamber, stepping out into the centre of the tiered room like an arena, ever increasing circles of stone chairs rising imposingly upwards and outwards from the centre. It was the heart of Narn government, the many circles of the Kha'ri that governed in wisdom and neutrality to lead the Narn to their great destiny and victory over the hated Centauri. At least that was the theory, the principle laid down by the rebel leaders who had broken free of their slave masters and built this empire from scraped together technology and sheer bloody will power. Like all ideas it was inspirational, but when applied in practice had found itself compromised.

The Kha'ri had become as pragmatic and corrupt as any other government with most members having their own agendas, with Representative Ta'Kai of the first circle being no exception. Her very ascension to power had come through a great deal of backstabbing, treachery and underhanded dealings, knowledge of which was shared by only one other man. The man who sat alone waiting for her on the third circle of stone chairs.

"Hello Ta'Kai." G'Kar grinned. "I like how even in an empty room you have to make a grand entrance, swaggering across the floor like an Empress."

"Still enjoying the sound of your own voice G'Kar?" she shot back.

"Only when I'm about to say something enjoyable." He returned. "Rather like today."

Ta'Kai exhaled again and sat on her given chair on the first circle. "Spit it out G'Kar, why did you call me here?"

The other Narn breathed deeply, looking around the room with reverence. "Look at this place Ta'Kai, just look at it. It is the perfect symbol of our world, of everything we wanted and everything we ultimately received. We broke away from the chains of our conquerors, only to become conquerors ourselves. We just weren't very good at it."

"We've made ourselves into a powerful empire."

"Through G'Quonth's expansionist policy, one which ran its course when we butted up against the League and humans." G'Kar nodded. "A policy that would have led us to a full scale war, one that would have been a disaster for us."

"I know." Ta'Kai agreed. "That at least was something we both understood. G'Quonth had to go."

"Yes, regrettably he did." G'Kar nodded. "How are you enjoying his seat?"

Ta'Kai slapped the stone chair. "Nice view, good acoustics."

"What about the blood staining it?"

She tilted her head. "I see no blood G'Kar. You'd be surprised how easy it is to wash it all away."

The male Narn leaned forward. "I'm glad you've settled in there, after you pushed G'Quonth to suicide…"

"We, G'Kar." She corrected. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"No, no you couldn't." He said coldly. "And I have to live with that."

"He was a relic of a past time." Ta'Kai dismissed.

"He was the greatest hero since G'Quan."

"And he'll be remembered as such, but he wasn't the future. We are the future G'Kar, you and me, practical people."

"Don't try and compare us, we are nothing alike."

"We both know what is best for Narn." She said. "That we have to embrace trade and economics before we can look at conquest, and evening the score with the Centauri."

"I'm so glad you brought that up." G'Kar smiled. "Because that is exactly what I was thinking about."

Ta'Kai watched him hesitantly, bracing for whatever he said next. "Go on."

"I know you don't like me here Ta'Kai, I know you are terrified about what I might say or do to jeopardise your position." He shrugged. "I would be too if I'd done all the things you had."

"And yet here I sit on the First Circle, and you on the Third."

"Because I chose to, you didn't heed your own advice." He smiled. "The First Circle are where the relics gather dust, the Third Circle is where the changes are made, where the future is created. You aren't part of that process Ta'Kai, and thank G'Quan for it!"

"I see, you're trying to push me out of power are you G'Kar?"

"No need, you already did that yourself. You can approve laws and policy, but you can't make them anymore."

"The First Circle still has the true power."

"Not for long, you see you're going to give authority to the Third Circle, to the thinkers and visionaries, not the relics."

Ta'Kai let loose a peel of laughter. "Fantastic G'Kar, what a brilliant attempt at a power grab! No armies, no assasins, you just ask me to cede power! Genius!"

"Yes, I thought so too." G'Kar grinned. "And it will work."

"Really?"

"Yes, because if you don't I'll leak evidence that you were responsible for G'Quonths death, that you undermined the authority of the Kha'ri during the Gorash incident and that you sold Narn secrets to Deathwalker."

The female Narn glared at him.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I certainly would."

"You would bring down the Kha'ri!"

"No, actually, just you."

She snarled. "If I am going, you are going with me. We were in this together G'Kar!"

"I think they'll be too busy nailing you to a tree to notice me." G'Kar shrugged his shoulders. "Especially if I'm selective in the information I release."

"I'll tell them you were in on it!"

"And I bet they'll believe you Ta'Kai." He smiled smugly back. "Why don't we try it?"

Ta'Kai looked away, fuming with anger. "Damn you G'Kar."

"If you want to remain in power, in fact if you want to live, you will do as I say." G'Kar spoke coldly. "You will cede power from the First Circle to the Third, you will make the rest of your little group agree."

"How?"

"Use your imagination." G'Kar dismissed. "You have plenty of motivation."

She shook her head. "You are better at this than I expected. That idealism you had at the beginning, that was an excellent cover."

"No, that was real." G'Kar stated solemnly. "Thank you for destroying that."

"Nothing like the reality of power to strip away what you thought you believed in."

"For you perhaps, but not for me." G'Kar responded. "I still believe in the same things, I just have a better understanding of how to gain them."

"Power, wealth, fame?" She listed.

"No." G'Kar shook his head. "Well actually yes, but those are only side effects. I want to see my world strong, and my people safe and victorious."

"How quaint."

"Hardly." G'Kar smiled. "And I know exactly how to do it, through business and diplomacy."

"Good luck, the galaxy hates us."

"No, they hate the Dilgar, who are now beaten." G'Kar said in correction. "We were forgotten about, and with a new government we have a new start, something I plan to exploit."

"And how do you plan to do this oh wise one?"

"By going straight to the source of this new power. Earth."

Ta'Kai frowned in mild surprise. "Earth? Are you mad?"

"And that Ta'kai, is why you are down there and I am up here." G'Kar sighed and shook his head. "You have no long term vision."

"Earth is finishing the war, they haven't even seized any worlds!" She laughed. "They are going home, back to their same borders! They will become what they were before the war."

"After all you've said you still see war in terms of worlds conquered." G'Kar remarked. "Earth will be the new big power, not through territory but through influence, diplomacy and business. Which, I remind you, is exactly what I said we should have done!"

"What have they gained from it? Friends with broken powers?"

"Yes the League, which they will invest in."

"Ah, so not only did they not conquer them, now they throw away money rebuilding them! Masterful indeed G'Kar!"

"You don't see the genius of the human plan Ta'Kai." He shook his head in disappointment. "You have to spend money to make money."

"That makes no sense."

"It does to me, and it does to Earth." The male answered. "And so I am going to Earth as our new Ambassador."

"Really?" Ta'Kai grinned. "Oh thank G'Quan, I thought this was bad news! Good riddance!"

"And while I am there," He continued over her mockery. "I will work to improve trade, business and friendship. You chose to support the Dilgar Ta'Kai, I chose to support Earth. You picked the losing side."

"I'm not impressed by your winners."

"Give them time." G'Kar allowed. "In fact you might be surprised at the friends I've made lately, and not just humans."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ta'Kai asked with a frown.

"Oh, nothing for you to worry about." The man grinned widely. "I'll be leaving in a few days, I'll be there to express our congratulations during their victory celebrations, let them know we are on their side."

"I'll miss you." She scoffed.

"Meanwhile I'll be watching you Ta'Kai, making sure you do what I tell you to do, vote how I tell you to vote, and give away the authority I tell you to give away." He stood up and straightened his clothes. "And by the way, if you are planning some ill thought out 'accident' for me while I am away, you'll find that the minute I die every media station on the planet will receive a special delivery."

"Wait, what if you really do have an accident?"

G'Kar smiled incredibly widely.

"I suggest you take up religion, and start praying regularly for my safety and good health. For your sake."

He walked away from the chamber, confident that he had made the right choice. His instinct told him that Earth was the future, and that some how his path intertwined with that of humanity. He couldn't tell where that path went, or what it would lead to, but he knew he would be stronger for it.


	102. Chapter 102

100

Royal Court of Emperor Turhan

Centauri Prime

Foreign Secretary Sir Richard Grenville walked behind the Centauri Prime Minister, the slightly shorter in stature Lord Shorra, as they made their way through the thin veils and hanging draperies of the inner palace. The fabric was beyond exquisite, a unique blend of fibres produced by genetically modified Centauri Silk worms. It was the most comfortable, softest and most regal fabric in the galaxy, but strong enough for everyday use. Most Centauri nobles had one or two garments made from this material, usually their best Court clothing, though some of the great houses had literally hundreds of outfits. It was one of the more ostentatious signs of wealth among the Centauri nobility, and having a Silk ensemble made in the latest fashion was a matter of great pride to a noble. The fact these clothes tended to cost as much as a small house only served to heighten the prestige that came with it.

The expense of furnishing the Royal Court in this manner defied easy belief, for something as simple as a room full of hanging cloth the bill would likely be in the millions of credits, and that didn't include the antique gilt gates that sealed the Emperor in privacy, they gates Shorra now led him to. It was not Richards first audience with the Emperor, as Earth's former Ambassador to the Centauri Republic he attended a few state events thrown by Turhan's predecessor, but this was the first time he had been summoned in private by the new Emperor himself.

With a nod from Shorra the two Royal Guardsmen opened the gates, the exquisite uniforms containing some of the most skilled and hardened soldiers in the galaxy. While the guardsmen were picked to cut a dashing figure at court, invariable being tall and handsome in the classical interpretation in order to fit in with the décor, they also had to meet certain criteria of skill and fitness as they were after all the Emperor's final line of defence. Officers of the Guard tended to be political appointments or family favours, but the average soldier or NCO was normally a common soldier who had somehow distinguished himself in combat or drill. It was one of the highest honours a commoner could receive and often led to the family of the soldier becoming part of the minor nobility. They were expected to die in the Emperors place, but in return they could do virtually anything they wanted off duty and get away with it.

The handsome but cold eyed soldiers allowed them to pass and enter the inner chamber, walking a short distance to the Imperial throne itself. The ancient high backed chair was a true relic of the Imperial dynasties, and while several copies existed for the Emperors visits to other worlds, this particular one was the original dating back a thousand years. Upon it sat Emperor Turhan, resplendid in white and gold finery, while beside him seated a little lower was his wife and consort, Morella.

Both the Prime Minister and Richard bowed low in formal tradition, then rose and waited the attention of the Emperor.

"Welcome back Ambassador." Turhan greeted. "Though I understand you have since been promoted among your people?"

"That is correct majesty." Richard replied. "I am now in charge of Earth Alliance foreign policy and oversee our dealings with all empires and nations Earth has contact with."

"Ah, I see." The Emperor nodded. "I did not know this, if I had I would not have requested you by name. I hope I have not inconvenienced you?"

"Not at all majesty." Richard delivered the appropriate answer, though not entirely truthful. It had been a week long journey at short notice. "When the Emperor of the Centauri Republic asks for you by name, it is impolite to refuse."

Turhan smiled. "Well answered, Earth certainly has some fine diplomats!" He chuckled slightly.

"Thank you majesty, and if I may say it is always a pleasure to return to the Royal Court, it has been some years since I was here last."

"Indeed, under my predecessor." Turhan nodded. "I regret I have been too busy to offer a formal audience to each of the ambassadors on my world, but as the period of transition ends I hope to see more diplomacy occur here."

Turhan nodded to the guards, who opened the gates.

"Prime Minister, I would ask you to wait outside for a few moments, I wish to speak alone to Ambassador Grenville."

Shorra bowed and made no argument. "Of course majesty."

The Prime Minister quickly withdrew, vanishing into the folds of white silk and taking the soldiers with him, leaving just Turhan, Morella, and Richard.

"Please, you may relax Mr Ambassador." Turhan offered with a smile. "I do not ask you to stand on formality today, it is a time of celebration."

"Thank you Emperor." Richard nodded. "And if it pleases your majesty, You may simply call me Richard."

"Very well." Turhan nodded. "Is your clothing common among humans?"

Richard grinned widely, his long tailored coat something of a trademark. "No majesty, at least not for some centuries. However it suits my personal tastes."

"And looks almost Centauri in style." Turhan approved. "I wonder if your time as Ambassador here influenced your tastes?"

"It may well have done majesty."

The Emperor stood and stepped down from his throne, a relatively small and slight man despite his jet black crest of hair. While not physically imposing Turhan almost dripped confidence, he had an easy and open personality, a man whom you could speak to honestly without bravado, and yet he was arguably the single most powerful individual in the galaxy and seemed eminently comfortable with that power and responsibility. His ascension to Emperor had not been smooth, there had been some border skirmishes but with the much more dangerous threat posed by the Dilgar distracting the Narn and the League the external threats to his rule had been easier than expected.

The internal threats however were more pressing and dangerous. The higher levels of Centauri society were dangerous places to exist with any number of nobles ready to pounce on any sign of weakness. Assassinations were simply tools of power and politics, along with blackmail, bribery and the exchange of favours. To survive in such a climate, let alone prosper, required immense skill and perception, along with a wide ruthless streak. Mild mannered as he seemed Turhan had successfully claimed and held the throne of the Republic, and that spoke volumes about his talents. The constant back room deals and information bartering also explained why the Centauri Secret Service were so effective, having not only existed but often controlling the flow of secrets between houses and ensuring the nobility were not tempted to sell secrets to alien powers to further their own agendas. The EIA was one of the best intelligence groups in the galaxy, but compared to the Centauri they were gifted amateurs.

Turhan came to a halt before Richard, and smiled with apparent sincerity.

"I congratulate you and Earth on your victory over the Dilgar. You earned it with courage and blood, and you have the right to reap your rewards."

"Thank you majesty."

"You know most of my Admirals thought you couldn't do it, that the Dilgar would fight you to a standstill." Turhan related. "You surprised a lot of people and made them re-evaluate Earth and your place in the galaxy."

Richard nodded. "As potential rivals majesty?"

"I certainly hope not." Turhan spoke gravely. "I wish to see a closer friendship with Earth, but the final decision is yours to make."

Richard answered with a smile. "Earth has always been friendly to the Centauri Republic majesty, we still remember our first contact with your race and the gifts you brought us."

"I am pleased." Turhan affirmed. "And I am sure you know it was particularly good fortune. You were contacted by members of House Jaddo, one of our more trustworthy and proud houses, people of great integrity."

"Indeed majesty, I hear they won great acclaim in your great war with the Orieni."

"That is true. If you had met another, shall we say more fickle House, our pleasant relationship may have been more strained."

"Then we are pleased our races found more in common than apart majesty."

Turhan seemed to like that. "I will tell you Richard, and I say this with honesty, the Republic has made mistakes in the past."

It was rare to hear any noble admit such a thing, and unheard of from the Emperor himself.

"I look at this galaxy." Turhan stated. "This galaxy that we more than any other race has shaped, and I see scores of worlds that hate us, and I understand why. We conquered them, enslaved them, and then when our power waned we abandoned them. The League was created as a military alliance against us! And the Narn, well you need only mention the first syllable of our name to hear what a Narn thinks of us!"

He laughed slightly, but there was little joy there.

"No, we are not popular. It is only because of our economy and the need for trade that other worlds still speak with us. Very few indeed call us friends, and one of those is Earth."

"Of course majesty, you have given us no reason to do otherwise."

"I am glad of it, for in the past many have spoke of war with Earth." Turhan said. "And even today many are threatened by your success, they see your star is rising and consider you a rival, a race which will replace us in the galaxy."

"I assure you Emperor that is not our intention."

"And I believe you." Turhan confirmed. "And it is my deep wish to extend our friendship and increase our trade and political relations."

"That sounds wonderful majesty."

Turhan nodded. "It is my dream to return the Centauri to a place where we may continue to shape the galaxy, but not simply through conquest and force. It is undeniable we still have great influence even if we have faded from glory these last centuries, my aim is to use that influence to make things better."

Richard listened with great interest, having a personal conversation with the Emperor was rare enough even for the most powerful Centauri, but to hear him speak so openly was truly singular. Richard grasped that it meant something very special, and that the Emperor was giving Earth a sign of his respect and integrity.

"My people are in decline, and have been for some time." Turhan continued. "We look to the past when we were unchallenged din the galaxy, when we were Lions that shook the stars with our roar. A beautiful story, but a story none the less."

He paced the chamber, his wife silently watching him from her chair.

"We waged great wars, conquered all that could be conquered. We faced the greatest empires in the galaxy and cast them down." Turhan recited. "And we had great glory. Many wish to see that glory restored, and they believe the best way to seize it is the same way our forefathers did. A war of conquest."

Richard nodded, aware that Earth now counted as a prime target, probably just behind the Narn and Drazi.

"But this is not my vision." The Emperor said honestly. "The old ways are past, the galaxy has changed and while we are still mighty I know in my hearts we cannot win a war against the alliances set against us. I will not have that blood on our hands, and I will not tolerate warmongering in my Republic."

That heartened the human.

"I want to look inwards, to stop our decline and strengthen the Republic from within." Turhan spoke. "To do that we need to expand trade, to open up to our neighbours, to speak truthfully and honestly, and to make friends. We have been standing still, looking to the past and the galaxy has progressed without us. Now we must catch up, move into the future and put the past where it belongs, in the history books."

"A noble desire majesty."

"And an unpopular one." Turhan admitted. "One that will not go down well with many nobles. But we must do this, we must leave the ways of the past and change of we will be lost forever. No more hatred, or grudges or bitterness! I want people in the galaxy to be proud that they are friends with a Centauri, not ashamed. And we will prove this by working more closely with Earth."

"I can guarantee the President will be very open to closer ties majesty." Richard informed. "And we are happy to declare our friendship with your people."

"Good, very good." Turhan beamed. "And with human acceptence, and the influence you have in the League, I can begin to repair bridges with other races, and one day if the gods allow it, I will even try to make peace with the Narn."

"I fear that may be a difficult task majesty."

"I know, but it is the task I have set myself as Emperor." Turhan said solidly. "Once more, congratulations on your victory, take my regards to your people and my warm and sincere praise."

"Thank you, I will."

"I offer the hands of friendship." Turhan stretched out both his arms in the Centauri version of a handshake. It was an incredible honour, physical contact with the Emperor usually carried the death penalty, for an alien to be offered such a gesture confirmed to Richard that Turhan had actually meant what he had said.

"I humbly accept." Richard took hold of the Emperor's forearms. "On behalf of all humanity."

"I shall let you leave now, return home for your celebrations." Turhan stepped back. "I am also sending you a new Ambassador, he is young but recently ascended to full status in his House, one of the greatest in the Republic."

"Of course majesty."

"He is Londo of the House Mollari, and frankly he needs a taste of life beyond the Republic. My wife tells me he has a promising future, and I hope some time among humans helps him embrace it appropriately."

"Of course majesty."

Turhan returned to his elaborate throne, carefully arraying his regal attire before sitting.

"The Dilgar were a great threat, you have done the galaxy a service by defeating them. I speak honestly when I say I would have opposed them if I had been able, but my recent ascension to Emperor meant I had matters at home to quell first."

"I understand majesty." Richard said, the implication being Turhan had been forced to quietly buy off or otherwise remove his rivals.

"It would have helped restore our reputation with the League which aids my goals, but it was not to be. Still, with human friendship that is still within our grasp."

"It is a worthy goal, and Earth will be glad to help bring the galaxy closer in friendship."

"I feel that may be the greatest contribution your people may make to the galaxy." Turhan smiled. "Thank you for coming all this way."

"Not at all, it was well worth it majesty."

"If you could send the Prime Minister back in on your way home, we must now look to the dreary business of state."

Richard bowed low, backed away a few steps, then straightened up and departed leaving Turhan and Morella alone for a while.

"The humans are the key aren't they?" he spoke quietly.

"They are the last resort." Morella spoke, a woman who was not only wife to the Emperor but one of the legendary prophetesses who were sometimes born to the Centauri. "If all else fails, they may save Centauri Prime from the darkness, and destruction by the false angels."

"Let us try and prevent any of that from happening, turn our people away from war."

"We must, and we must succeed." Morella said. "If we do not all you sought to build will be lost on the day of your death, and all of the Centauri will be ruled by darkness."

"I will not allow it." Turhan said firmly. "I will keep the Republic safe and whole."

"And we must hope Mollari learns something from the humans." Morella agreed. "Before he chooses his own fate, and the fate of the Centauri with it."

EIA Headquarters

Geneva

Earth

Director Durban dropped the papers in his desk drawer and shut it up as the door rapped with knocking. He quickly tidied his large work area making it look as plain and impersonal as possible, then received his guest.

"Come in."

The portal opened and allowed a familiar woman through. She walked a little hesitantly, slightly unbalanced, but still had the grace and poise of someone who knew how best to move her body and maintain grace and balance in any situation.

"Agent Sakai." Durban stood with a smile. "Please sit down."

Jenny smiled a little and took the offered seat, clearly quite pleased to be off her feet. She was dressed more formally than usual in a black trouser suit rather than her usual more casual and flexible attire.

"Glad to see you up and around, still a little tender though?" He asked.

"A little." She confirmed. "That knife went pretty deep, but it'll heal. Thanks though."

"And what about junior?" Durban grinned. "Vic told me the news, my sincere congratulations. You know I've got three myself, little bundles of joy until they start eating makeup and piddling on the carpet."

"Yes sir, still another six months or so until he or she is ready to pop." Jenny smiled warmly. "I have to say I'm looking forward to it, even if it is really unexpected."

"Best type of good news." Durban said. "You don't want to know if it's a boy or girl?"

"One more pleasant surprise." She grinned. "I already have two names, Alfredo or Heather."

"Good choices." Durban agreed. "And a good legacy, one I'm glad to see continue."

"Yes sir, the galaxy needs some Calendar blood in it, otherwise where else would all the trouble get drawn to?"

Durban laughed truthfully. "Very true jenny. He was a good man."

"The best." She confirmed.

Durban let the moment hang before continuing. "I guessed why you asked to see me."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't sir."

"I can offer you extended maternity leave, a transfer to training command?" He offered. "A job that keeps you at home with your child."

"Thank you sir, but I've made my choice." She stated. "I'm here to hand in my resignation."

She took an envelope from her pocket and placed it on the desk, both of them staring at it.

"Are you sure about this?" Durban asked. "You have earned a posting anywhere in the agency."

"I'm sure." She confirmed. "I love the EIA, and everything I've done here, all my service, I couldn't be more proud of it."

"And we're proud of you." Durban replied. "You went beyond the call of duty many times, and your actions saved countless lives."

"Yes sir, part of me does want to stay." Jenny admitted. "But this isn't my life anymore."

"I felt the same when my wife gave birth to our first." Durban confirmed. "After that I couldn't do field work anymore, I didn't want to take the risk of having my family grow up without a father. So my Director gave me a job back here, and through that I rose to replace him."

"I'm not sure a support job is for me." Jenny said.

"It is entirely for you." Durban said. "Chapel picked you to follow him, like I picked him to follow me. One day he'll be Director when I step down, and some day after that you could be Director too. I know for a fact you've got what it takes."

"Maybe, but it isn't what I want anymore." Jenny said. "This just isn't my life. Not just because of the baby, but for the other things."

Durban nodded. "I understand."

"I need a new start, a clean break from this." She said apologetically. "I know you all had plans for me, and I am sorry, but I think you've got a good candidate for high office after me."

"You mean Francis?" Durban recognised. "Good choice on your part there."

"He'll do the job better than I can, and he still wants to. If I'm honest, I just can't do this anymore."

The Director reached over and picked up the envelope.

"I accept." He said. "You were, in fact you still are the best field agent we have. You'll be missed."

"Thank you." She said.

"Durban stood and reached out his hand. "Good luck out there."

She stood and took it. "I won't let anyone here down."

"And remember, the door is always open if you change your mind."

They shook hands, then she gathered herself and walked away.

"You helped make the galaxy, and you helped keep Earth safe." Durban said. "Never forget that, if anyone has earned the right to life how they please, you have."

She turned at the door and gave the Director a sincere smile.

"Take care Karl, my best to the kids."

"Keep in touch, I want to see an invitation to the Christening." He sat back down. "And my wife has some tips for you on baby clothes, come around sometime."

She closed the door behind her with an overwhelming sense of joy. She was leaving the job but still kept the friends she had made, and that mattered a lot to her. Despite all her loss she felt hopeful, bouncy even. The future was hers to decide, she was free, she had plenty of money to live on from her time with the Race and Paul's will, and on top of that she had a family. It wasn't perfect, there was always going to be something big missing from her life, but she had something here worth living for, and worth living well for.

She left the EIA building, saying her farewells to the colleagues and friends she had made. She would have to catch up with Francis and Heather later, both were still out in League space, but she had heard they had finally set a wedding date. And about time too. She paused at the doorway and looked back, her eyes taking in the large clean lobby, the busy agents bustling along, and the mural on the floor of Gretle the Alsation, symbol of the EIA and statement that they were Earth's Guard dog. Then, with a light step in her walk, she left the building and went to pack.

She didn't have a whole lot to put away, just a few changes of clothes. She hadn't stopped long enough to gather much in the way of ornaments or trinkets, just a few small items she carefully put away. One of the things she cherished was her old uniform from the days before she was recruited into the EIA, the military jacket bearing an enviable collection of expert badges and merit distinctions. In the future she would also have an assortment of medals to pin on there from her time as field agent, including the prestigious Balosian Campaign medal and the Silver star of Earth Force. The other item was Paul's box of guns, and in particular the excessively large Magnum hand gun he had especially favoured.

In the end it all filled a single back, and she slung it over her shoulder and said farewell to her quarters for the last time. Then, wheeling the green box behind her, she left the apartment complex and walked out into the sunlight to ring for a taxi. Fortunately she didn't need to.

"What did the doctors say about moving heavy objects in your condition?" Vic Chapel chided, leaning against the side of a black sedan.

"I'm not an invalid Vic, just a little tender in places." She grinned back.

"You gotta ease back now you aren't in the trade anymore, live a slow paced civilian life. Hell, with all the money you've got you should hire people to do this sort of thing."

She dropped the bag. "So what are you waiting for?" she raised an eyebrow. "Mush."

Vic chuckled and loaded her baggage into the car, straining with the box.

"Damn, did he squeeze a tank in here?"

"Well I might have added a few things." She said. "Some Balosian weapons they gave me."

He closed the boot and went to the drivers seat.

"So, airport?"

"Airport." She confirmed and got in beside him.

He put the car in drive and let it hum away, content to let the computer drive it to the private airport that served EarthDome. The trees lining their way blazed orange and red with their autumnal colours, a vivid and awe inspiring display of nature at its most beautiful.

"So how did the Director take the news?" Chapel asked.

"Very well, he invited me round to his place." Jenny answered. "For baby talk."

The man laughed hoarsely. "Now that'll be something. Thought of a name for the little one?"

"Alfredo or Heather."

"What, not Victor?" Chapel expressed. "I'm shocked."

"Maybe Victoria." She allowed. "Actually not a bad ring to it that. But if it's a boy it has to be Alfredo, for the Sarge."

"Yeah, he did save your butt back there." Chapel nodded.

"Without him there wouldn't be a kid." She agreed. "So Freddy."

"He give you the open door speech?"

"He mentioned it." She nodded. "But I think I've done my time here."

"Never say never." Chapel pointed out. "Who knows what might happen down the road."

"Yeah." She nodded. "I'll sort of miss the place."

"It'll sort of miss you." Chapel countered. "You did good."

"I was utterly fantastic according to the Director." She teased.

"Well I didn't want to be the first to say it, I mean I recruited you so it reflects on my brilliance too."

She laughed. "In a way yeah, when you put it like that all my successes are actually your successes."

"Damn right." Chapel nodded. "But you were real good. Remember that selection exercise?"

"On Mars?" She beamed. "The one where I had to evade capture?"

"Yeah, not only did you avoid a sweep by a whole Brigade of infantry and four SAS teams, you somehow broke into Mars Dome, joined a party, posted pictures of yourself rocking on the Agency net board, and then still slipped away and made it home with twelve hours to spare!" Chapel recalled.

"That was a good day."

"The Director knew right then you were heading for great things. And he was right."

"Yeah, this job gave me a lot, put in places I wouldn't have gone normally." She said honestly. "Let me meet people I wouldn't have met otherwise." She rested he hand on her stomach. "Real gift."

"We had some good times and rough times." Chapel nodded. "But we changed the world, and for the better."

"We did." She agreed completely. "We did the right thing."

The car pulled into the airport loading bay and stopped, opening the doors for them.

"Here we are." Chapel stepped out.

"Here we are." Jenny repeated and followed.

"So you got a job lined up?" He asked as he retrieved her bags.

"Actually yeah." She grinned. "Little bit of side work with the family."

"Well if you get bored give me a call, I'll find a challenge for the good of Earth."

"I'll bear it in mind." She paused. "Vic, so you know I'm still in."

"In what?" Chapel asked.

"I promised that if you found her, if you found Isabel, wherever she was and whatever it took, I'd help you get her back. I'm still in."

Chapel nodded slowly. "I don't know where the Corps took her, or even if she'll remember me."

"She will, even if they brain wash her she won't forget her dad." Jenny promised. "If you find her, I'll help you break in and rescue her. But not if I'm more than seven months pregnant. Might have to wait a little longer then."

"Goes without saying." Chapel took her bags to the airport check in "Well, this is it."

"For now." Jenny nodded. "Watch yourself Vic."

"Yeah, and you stay safe too." He replied deeply.

"Do you want to be a Godfather?" She asked. "To the little one?"

He grinned. "Love to, and I'll even rub out anyone you want on your behalf."

"Let's not go too far." She laughed. "But I'll stay in touch."

"See that you do." He nodded. "Well have fun in the real world, I got paperwork to do. See you round Jenny."

"Later Vic."

She watched him go, waving as he departed, then pushed the box and he bag to the check in for her flight.

"Hi, you have a reservation? Name of Sakai."

The uniformed officer on the desk checked through his computer. "I have you Miss Sakai, first class to Hong Kong?"

"First Class?"

"You were upgraded by a Mr Durban." He reported. "Is that okay?"

"Just fine."

"Do you have anything to declare on this flight?"

She paused, and looked down at the huge box packed full of guns and ammunition.

"Err…well…."

Psi Corps Headquarters

Geneva

Like the rest of the planet Teep town was giving thanks for the swift end of the war and looking with hopeful optimism at the galaxy unfolding in front of them. Direct telepath involvement in the war had been rare, with only a tiny handful of Psi Corps operatives sent beyond Earth Space and into the League. Once there they had assumed second line duties as supplements to the Military Police or helping the diplomatic corps, none of them had seen actual combat and very few had even glimpsed a Dilgar, simply fulfilling their everyday roles but among the Earth Expeditionary Force.

At least that was the official story. Unofficially Psi Corps had contributed a small number of interrogators to the war effort to scan and forcibly remove details from the minds of some high ranking Dilgar prisoners of war. Only a few had been taken and of those even less seemed to be figures of authority, but still the Psi Corps had learned a number of useful facts about the enemy that were given to the war effort. The state of the prisoners when the Corps had finished with them ranged from shaken to vegetables, something Earth Force accepted but did not truly endorse. The EIA considered the entire situation a travesty, supporting a more lengthy and les invasive form of interrogation. They had been overruled.

The Psi Corps had been especially eager to get its claws into Ari'shan, the young pilot being by far the most senior member of the Imperium to be taken alive by Earth Force. However he had been spirited away by the EIA soon after he left Balos and had literally vanished into thin air. Despite many pointed inquiries the Corps had not been able to track him down which infuriated several senior members of the group, but not to the point where they dared risk a scan of a senior EIA agent. While the EIA was made up of mundanes who couldn't block a scan they did have enough mental training to know if someone was looking in their mind and identify the individual responsible. While they couldn't prevent the telepath walking away with the information, they could follow him into a dark alley and introduce the back of his head to a bullet before he could make a report.

Despite the annoyances of some in the Corps, the majority of telepaths were oblivious to the power games going on in their name and saw this victory for what it was, one that belonged to all humanity whether telepaths or not. While most telepaths accepted they were different they also counted themselves as humans and did not make the distinction between themselves and normals that many more senior Psi Corps officers did. For the majority there was no sense of 'them and us' or of a growing tension, there was just a strong sense of unity and pride in the strength and integrity of their shared heritage.

Preparations were already underway, the streets were being lined with coloured streamers and flags, food and drink was being ordered and street parties were planned. It would be a great moment in Earth history, the first true interstellar war with another power and one which had ended in a decisive human victory despite the steep odds placed against them. It was truly reason to celebrate and give thanks, and remember what had been lost to secure the future.

Clare walked into the apartment with a beaming smile, walking through to the living room exactly on time and pleased to find her colleague already there stood in the centre of the room changing his clothes.

"I'm stunned." She said softly. "Blue suits you of course, but I didn't think you were the military type."

The man glared at her while removing a blue Earth Force uniform jacket. "Very funny."

"So noble, willing to fight for Earth and all those billions of mundanes, even die for them."

The man scoffed through his bristly moustache. "Fighting wars is a job for the mundanes, telepaths have better things to do then stand in the open trying to shoot each other."

"Never mind Lundin, I guess you'll never attract all the girls now without that dashing uniform and great war stories."

He tossed the jacket aside.

"It served its task, it allowed me to gain access to the surrender signing." He walked to a coat rack and sorted through the other jackets hung there. "A fake ID, a little telepathic misdirection, couldn't have been easier."

"So what have you got to tell Thirteen?" Clare asked.

"How about the fact the Dilgar Sun is going to blow up?"

He picked out his regular outfit, the black of a Psi Cop. Strictly speaking Lundin was a serving Psi Cop and one of the best, but deep down the uniform was as much of a disguise as the Earth Force jacket had been. He served a group more powerful than the Psi Corps, smaller and more exclusive but architects of the future.

"Now isn't that a coincidence." Clare chuckled. "Deliberate?"

"Not that anyone can tell." Lundin shrugged. "If it is it wasn't the League, they don't have the ability. Might just be natural."

"A new player perhaps." She considered. "One of the old ones, Vorlons maybe, or another of the Ancient races?"

"We know virtually nothing about any of them, we only have a name for the Vorlons." Lundin shook his head. "Our people on IPX are busy researching artefacts uncovered on Mars and Proxima, we know there were many ancient races who all seem to have disappeared for some reason. We've heard a lot of folk tales from both the Narn and Centauri about warriors of light and dark, if we accept that the Vorlons were the embodiments of light, who were the embodiments of dark?"

"We're getting ahead of ourselves." Clare put down. "Thirteen doesn't want speculation. We have a fact, the Dilgar are doomed, that will do. We better move fast to secure any relevant technologies."

"That would be my recommendation."

He fastened his jacket and pulled on his gloves.

"Beyond that there was little to report. The League want our money, the corporations want to buy up League assets, the Navy is going to use this to push through some new and expensive ship designs and the Army hopes for a bigger slice of the budget next year now it has proven itself in this age of space ships and orbital strikes."

"Nothing new there then." Clare dismissed. "Nobody is plotting against us?"

"For a change, no, no one." Lundin shrugged. "Everyone is scurrying to be on our side, even the big powers. It's quite remarkable."

"To the victor the spoils." Clare laughed, making her rich blond hair dance.

"And speaking of, how was your mission?" Lundin asked. "What did we acquire from this exercise in power?"

"Oh we did very well out of this, even though the League tried to hide technology from us, we managed to get hold of everything we wanted." She beamed in triumph. "We will openly admit to taking Dilgar technology and developing it, already our scientists are investigating new rapid fire weapons based on Dilgar bolters while our aeronautical engineers are pulling apart the latest Thoruns to see how they work. I expect we'll see improved engines and weapons within a decade across the board."

"So that's the open tech, what about the rest?"

She smiled. "Our priority was to develop a weapon more powerful than anything else in the galaxy, and right now our only competitor is the Hyach. Thirteen will be glad to hear we salvaged a couple of Hyach ships from Omelos, including enough parts to recreate a Spinal Laser."

"Giving us access to the most powerful beam weapon known to exist." Lundin grinned.

"Earth Force R&D are going wild over it, they're going to invest in it as their main priority and have assigned four partially build Nova Dreadnoughts to be used by the development team. A massive investment of resources."

"Excellent news, what else?"

"We picked up some Mass Drivers from a Dilgar shipyard, you know they use hyperspace technology to launch rocks? A variation of a jump point and not magnetics as we first imagined?" Clare informed. "The research boys are having palpitations over that one too, plus we took some of those stealth suits. Throw in samples of tech from the Sekhmet class including gravity drives and they've got enough to keep them busy for decades. Only thing they are annoyed about is we didn't get an Abbai shield generator."

"That would have been quite a prize, given us a straight flush."

"Se la vie." Clare shrugged.

"So that tells me what the Navy and Earth Force black ops took away from the war, but what about us?" Lundin asked. "What did our mission to Balos pick up?"

Now her smile really did grow. "Everything, it was a massive success. We were undetected by the authorities and managed to break into every known Dilgar lab. It was a treasure trove."

"So? Don't keep me in suspense!" Lundin demanded. "What did you bring back?"

"Samples of everything Jha'dur was working on." Clare informed. "Not just data and reports, actual physical samples of plagues, nano virus' and genetically modified tissue samples."

"Genetically modified?"

"We have no idea what she was doing, looked like a type of reanimation." Clare shrugged. "Bringing people back from the dead."

Lundin whistled. "Damn serious stuff."

"We might be able to duplicate the process, it is incredibly advanced but feasible with our technology. In terms of the principles she wasn't much more advanced then us, she just had ideas we would never have conceived of. True genius."

"Pity we couldn't have brought her back alive." Lundin grunted. "She could have been quite an asset."

"Her notes and samples will help enough. Our Bio-weapons division has taken delivery of her most potent toxins and claims to be able to replicate them very easily. They are deadly contagions, but very easy to breed and propagate on a massive scale. I suppose that is what made them so dangerous."

"What about cybernetics?" Lundin asked. "Our reports said she was developing advanced cyber-organic devices?"

"We claimed them too, some seem to be tuned to providing weaponry that is integrated directly into a body, others are designed to stimulate adrenaline, and a few seem to be mind control devices." Clare reported. "I'm sure Thirteen will find a use for all of them somewhere in the future."

"This is a remarkable success, perhaps the biggest windfall in our group's history." Lundin nodded. "With this technology we can continue to ensure Earth's safety and success."

"We're at the top of the galaxy." Clare agreed. "Now we have to fight to stay there."

"And we will." Lundin confirmed. "Now, let's go and celebrate with the Corps,a nd then I can tell you about some of the devices we found on Roth, very similar to some ancient technology located near Syria Planum…"

Mars

Gemma Sinclair shifted the documents across her computer screen, changing their order for the twentieth time. They were video files from centuries ago and part of her course on twentieth century culture. She had arranged them by date, then by significance, then by length, and then finally by preference but none of it seemed right. It was all acceptable, and her students likely wouldn't care, but acceptable wasn't enough for her, it had to feel right as well.

She knew what the problem was of course, she was distracted and her mind was dwelling on other things. The war was over, it had been broadcast on the news constantly for several days and yet she had heard no news from her husband David or the authorities. There was still a communication curfew in effect over the Earth Fleet until it finished clean up operations and made sure the Dilgar had no hidden bases or fleets still in the field, a process which was taking an infuriatingly long time to complete.

She knew she wasn't alone in this, thousands, millions of families were all in the same position waiting for news. There was a rumour some soldiers had already returned from non essential roles and the rest would be heading home soon, in time for Christmas. She knew her husband had a very important role in the war as a Squadron Leader and it would probably be a while before he returned, but she hoped that he would at least get in touch soon.

She heard a knock at the door, and was relieved at the distraction. She paused the programme and headed from the room, stopping briefly to check her appearance in the hall mirror before unlocking the outside door itself. There was a slight breeze as the metal panel slid open, something of a rarity in the sealed dome and most welcome. She had been expecting the Professor of the History Department to visit her, but hadn't expected to see the two uniformed men who now greeted her.

"Mrs Gemma Sinclair?" the younger of the two asked hesitantly.

She could feel her pulse thumping, the heart in her chest beating impossibly fast as fear began to overtake her, a true pure terror revolving around what she knew was coming. It was obvious to her, she knew what was coming but wished with every fibre of her soul that she was wrong, that they were wrong, that something or someone had been mistaken, that all was in fact right. She could not say a word, but managed a nod.

"My name is Lieutenant William Hague, I served with your husband as part of his squadron, and was proud to call him a friend."

Gemma was shaking, her left hand clinging onto the door frame just to have something solid in the world, her fingers digging into the wall. She hoped against hope, she knew, but until she heard those words there was still a chance.

"I regret to inform you…"

At that exact second her world stopped, and could never restart.

At the exact same time there was another firm knock on another firm door, a pounding that echoed within the smaller home of another military family. Sophia Garibaldi was in the process of whisking a bowl of cake mix in preparation for her son returning from school, a pleasant surprise for young Michael. He dark eyes shot up at the sound, her entire body freezing in place. Like Gemma Sinclair she knew the troops wouldn't be home for a few more weeks, and an unexpected knock at the door was rarely an omen of good news. It had happened to her before, when her husband went missing before the war and was presumed killed, the news had shaken her more than she believed possible, and now it was happening again.

She placed the bowl on the counter and headed for the door, regulating her breathing and trying to keep an even face. She was dressed down, her raven hair messy and tangled, but none of this crossed her mind as she headed to the front of the house, her mind too preoccupied with possibilities. She reached her hand out to the door control, her fingers shaking nervously and tingling, her whole body feeling suddenly very cold even in the controlled heat of the house. She touched the button, waited the eternal three seconds it took for the door to slide open, and looked unflinchingly into the face of the uniformed man beyond.

"So I got a lift back on a freighter." Alfredo Garibaldi said with an uncontainable smile. "Surprise!"

For several seconds Sophia didn't know what to do, her mind was completely overpowered processing the information that bombarded it. She had to put aside her fears and worries that had dominated her, and then accept that this was real, not some fevered delusion trying to keep her from being hurt. She just stood there open mouthed waiting for the rest of her thoughts to catch up.

"I guess surprise is the word." Garibaldi frowned. "Do you need to sit down or something, can I get you a drink? Hot towel? Maybe…"

He was cut off by his wife physically leaping on him and wrapping herself about him in a crushing embrace, a powerful concentrated grip that had been building for months. He staggered back a little in surprise, but kept his balance and held her in turn.

"I found a free ride." He said. "And because my unit had seen a lot of action we got to come home early." He explained. "Thank some friends in the Belt Alliance for that one."

She continued to hold him tightly there on the doorstep, not easing off an inch and not caring, just unbelievably happy and relieved, so much so she just could not find any other way to express it, she just could not think beyond this single moment of happiness.

"Okay sweetheart, ease up a bit." He said gently. "I have to breathe in now."

She loosened her grip a little and shifted her weight, but did not fully let go. She did however have to remind herself to breathe in too, something that had simply escaped her mind in the wonderful revelation. She didn't even notice until right then that he was leaning on a walking stick.

"You're hurt!" She exclaimed, suddenly finding words.

"It's nothing." He dismissed.

"You need a stick to walk with! That's something!"

"I don't need it, but it cuts a bit of a dash don't you thing?"

"What happened?"

"Well I did sort of get shot in the leg."

"You got shot!" Sophia almost howled. "You are never going out of my sight ever again!"

"Yes General." Garibaldi grinned.

"I mean it!" She slapped his chest. "I'm not letting this happen again."

"You don't have to." He said peacefully. "I retired."

She leaned back and looked at him. "What?"

"Technically a honourably discharge on medical grounds, a million credit wound." He said. "I'm out of the Army as of January, I'm coming home for good."

She couldn't think of anything to say, so just hugged him tightly again and closed her eyes, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"We don't we go pick Mike up from School together, I bet he'll be as surprised as you are."

Sophia nodded, still too emotional to speak.

"It's all finished now, we did it." Alfredo said gently.

She knew she only had the ability to say a few words before she completely broke down, so she chose them well.

"I love you."

Alfredo grinned widely and kissed the top of her messy head. "Love you too sweetheart."

"Forever." She managed.

"And ever after." He finished. "We're a family again, and nothing else can break us up."

January 1st, 2233

Geneva

Earth

It was a cold day, chilly enough so that even by midday his breath clouded as it passed his lips. The sky was perfect blue, rich and deep above them fading to glorious white near the horizon with no clouds at all in the air. That lack of cloud cover was mainly to blame for the coldness, but it also provided a stunning visual snapshot that would be captured forever in glorious intensity.

President Hauser did not mind the cold, in fact he embraced it, welcomed it, let it surge around him sharply and imbue him with a focus and determination. It was a discomfort, and that discomfort served to help him symbolically remember that many of his people had been forced to undergo discomfort in recent months, and that many had not survived to feel the cold, or the warmth, or to marvel on the blueness of the perfect sky.

He could marvel at the snowcapped Alps, and the tingling clear lake, and the short but verdant grass on the lawns of the EarthDome complex. He could appreciate this spectacle and this amazing beauty only because so many could not. So many had fallen on distant battlefields, from hot deserts, lush jungles, frozen wastes and the harsh emptiness of space. They had given their lives to protect Earth, to preserve it and more importantly the people who lived there. Whether families, friends, acquaintances or pure strangers, everyone owed something to the uniformed men and women of Earth Force, from the newest baby to the President of the Earth Alliance himself. They all owed something, and all had a need to make sure that gratitude was known and expressed to those who deserved it.

"Mr President?" A young diplomat spoke to him, leaning around the wall of the senate building. "We're ready."

Hauser nodded, breathing out a long cloud of vapour.

"I am on my way." He answered, stretching his legs and moving to follow the young man. He straightened his black coat and stepped up onto the path leading away from the semi spherical building and faced outwards towards the mountains and the Gardens.

Before he moved further his eye lightened upon a couple of snowdrops in the grass beside the path, the small white flowers hanging in the cold air. The hardy little plants were often the first heralds of a good spring, though it was very unusual to see them flower in such wintry weather, especially in Switzerland. Hauser took it as a sign, he wasn't an overly religious man and believed in people making their own way in the world, but this was just too startling to be coincidence. His people were clearing the bitterness of a harsh winter, and a warm spring seemed to be heading their way.

With a renewed sense of hope he set off down the path, considerably warmer within himself, and prepared to fulfil his duty as President.

The Memorial Gardens were a large open area within the EarthDome complex, a place of tranquillity and rest with numerous paths, some small ponds and a wide arrangement of trees and flowers. Right now of course it was in the grip of winter, the flower beds were empty and the trees skeletal, black fingers contrasting with the blue sky. It was a place to remember those who had fallen in the name of Earth, specifically since the formation of the Earth Alliance but since its inception had become a symbol for all human loss in war, whatever the age. Its main feature was a statue of the Goddess of Victory dressed in classical Greek armour and robes with her helmet removed bowing in grief and remembrance of the fallen.

Today the Gardens were filled with people, Senators in dark wool coats, senior Military officers in grey uniform carrying swords, a wide selection of the press, a thousand selected soldiers stood in a guard of honour, and the central band of Earth Force waited with instruments gleaming in the sun. A small stage and podium stood at the far end of the gardens, set against the tall mountains and looking out over the lake. It was there President Hauser would address humanity and the galaxy beyond, and lead the world in remembrance.

He entered the gardens alone, the band beginning a slow and sombre piece of music the moment he did. He walked to those long sonorous notes, walking at a steady pace with head held high along the middle path through the gardens and between the groups of dignitaries. He did not rush, for that would be disrespectful, but arrived at the podium at about the same time as the music ended. His notes were there waiting for him, and billions of eyes were upon his every movement.

"One year ago today, Earth declared war on the Dilgar." He announced. "A nation that had brought war to our borders, that had committed atrocities beyond comprehension across the League, and that threatened to conquer all known space in the name of imperialism and a twisted view of manifest destiny.

"We faced them one year ago. We made our stand and declared 'No more!' No more genocide, no more invasions, no more wanton destruction. We made this declaration for the good of our people, because we would have been next, and for the good of all people, as we could not abide the horrors perpetrate don our very doorstep and not act.

"We made our stand knowing it would lead to war. We accepted this as it was the only language the Dilgar knew. Diplomacy had failed, warnings had failed, even threats had failed. No world goes to war lightly, for we know all to well the price in blood such an action demands in payment. We children of Earth know better than most what the true face of war looks like, it is the face of the orphaned child, the widowed partner, the haunted old soldier. Yet we also know the face of appeasement, and it is the hollow face of death."

"Before this day one year ago Earth had not been tested in war for many decades. We had fought small conflicts, skirmishes on land and space, but had not mobilised for a true total war since the end of World War Three in the late twenty first century. We did not know what would happen, if our fleets and armies could operate in such an intense war over such a distance. We did not have those answers, as many of those questions had never been asked. At the start of the war victory was by no means certain, yet we fought anyway, and our men and women distinguished themselves magnificently.

"We turned back the enemy, liberated world after world, brought the light of freedom and rays of hope to those who had given in to despair. We succeeded beyond our wildest expectations because of our people. Whether they were fighting on the frontlines, designing our ships and weapons, carrying fuel and supplies, constructing our next batch of vessels or working in mines or factories, it did not matter. This was total war, all of humanity waged it, all of us played our part in success. This was a victory for Earth, and a victory of right over wrong.

"How rare it is to fight so clear a battle, to know so fundamentally why it is we fight. We could have an enemy no worse than the Dilgar, a race so well deserving of our military intervention. Yet we must distinguish between the Dilgar themselves and their leaders. No life is inherently evil as the Dilgar are not inherently evil. They are a world misguided for generations, lied to and blinded then led on a path of destruction. That path has ended and it is our responsibility to show them a new way, a better way where they may become what they should have been from the beginning, a productive member world of the galactic community.

"We are surrounded by former enemies and rivals, by those whom we once waged war. Not just the nations of the Earth, but the nations of the galaxy. No longer are these people our enemies, but now our friends and allies. I believe one day we will say the same of the Dilgar, and they of us. This war has given us many friends and has allowed us to embrace our neighbours in mutual respect. Earth is now standing shoulder to shoulder with the nations of the galaxy, our voice carries weight and so we must speak wisely. We have taken upon ourselves a great responsibility, and we must use it well to the benefit of all.

"All of this did not come easily. The great battles of the war tested us not just physically but mentally. Our brave soldiers were pushed to their limits by our enemy, an opponent renowned for their cunning and ferocity. Yet throughout those hard battles we did not break, we did not crack. The men and women of Earth Force held firm, many falling in the process, and many more taking up the banner of our people and continuing forward into the fires of the maelstrom. The courage and determination of our people won this war, and reshaped this galaxy. We have done what most considered impossible, and we have done it by expressing those qualities dearest to the human character."

"And so we come to today. Our peace has been made, our warriors have returned, our worlds restored. We give thanks not only to the fallen, but to the living. We remember not only those who did not return, but those who did. We welcome home those who fought so well and so hard for our world, and for the worlds of the League. Their suffering, their hardships and ordeals, their losses, not of it was in vain. By those actions countless lives were saved, countless generations may follow on across the galaxy who would never even have been born if not for those brave men and women. We promise to take care of them as they have taken care of us.

"We must pledge as a world and as a people to give support and comfort to the families of those who did not return, to ensure they continue as best they can and honour the memory of what those fallen fought and died for. This war has ended, but its effects will last through decades and more as we fix what has been broken, and put right what has been lost.

"Today, and for every remaining day of my life, I offer my thanks, my gratitude, and my never diminishing respect to the men and women of the Earth Expeditionary Force, and all those who worked behind the scenes to allow them to fight and win. We ask them to be eternally proud of what they have done, to take that pride and satisfaction that comes with doing something so great and so noble. They have done something that will still be praised even unto the final setting of the sun in the far away days of twilight. We have the shown the galaxy what we as a people can achieve, and where our hearts truly lay. More importantly, we have reminded ourselves of that exact same reality.

"This is a moment for all of mankind to take pride in, to share as an example of the true spirit of our race and our blood. That for all our petty differences, all our arguments, all our selfish desires and fickle natures, at the end of that analysis when the sum total of humanity is measured, our glories will far outstrip our failings. When called upon, when put to the test we have risen as a world and as individuals and we have responded with dignity, courage and skill. All of our history has been the foundations of today, and now we go forth and build the galaxy our children will live and prosper in. All of it, all of it, thanks to those who sacrificed and endured the crucible of war.

"Thank you, one and all."

The President stepped back from the podium and as he did so General Denisov raised his voice.

"Honour guard, ready!"

The thousand soldiers snapped to attention, gleaming rifles raised from the ground.

"Present!"

The weapons snapped up to a thousand shoulders, the silver PPG's pointing skyward into the clod blue ether.

"Fire!"

Red blasts of plasma erupted from gun barrels and streamed up in a blaze of light. The red balls shimmered and left thing white vapour trails in the cold air, a trace of white lines that lingered for a moment in the sky after the rounds themselves had faded.

The soldiers returned to their at ease stance, and a dim thunder permeated the scene growing constantly louder. From across the lake squadrons of aircraft emerged, from ungainly Valkyries and Freya VTOL aircraft to the sleek Banshees, bulky Magni cargo craft and huge Wraith bombers. Hundreds of them passed over at various altitudes, some barely above the height of the building white others were just specks in the sky surmounting long wakes of white contrails.

The aircraft thundered above in a display of military power and in memory of the pilots lost in action. Many had fallen on Balos, fighting massive odds to give the ground forces time to withdraw and too often such sacrifices had been missed in the media, news coverage being more focused on the orbital battles.

Assault shuttles and troop transports brought up the rear, less menacing than their frontline counterparts but no less vital to victory. They too were largely unsung even though they had braved intense enemy fire to land troops on planets and evacuate the wounded. Their passing was caught on camera as they flew over the Alps and away, the memory of their thunder going with them.

The band then began again, playing the official hymn of Earth Force. It was an ancient tune named 'Eternal Father strong to save' and had been written for those who had travelled the seas on sailing vessels centuries ago. As mankind had progressed new verses had been added to reflect the dangers faced by all those who wandered far from home, in the air, in space and finally between the stars. It had long been used by the militaries of humanity, and when they went to the stars it had gone with them.

Across the globe and across the colonies people watched and understood, many having direct experience of the war or knowing friends or family who had fought. Many knew someone who had not come back, and for them the ceremony was especially poignant. It was a day of respect, of quiet grief and heartfelt joy. The events of the war would be studied forever by scholars and historians, taught in schools and academies, recreated in naval exercises and picked apart in documentaries. But the events were second to the people who had seen them, and they would not be around forever. This was their time, a celebration for them in life or death. Most of them did not feel they deserved all this, that they were simply doing their job, but attention was lavished all the same. They had ushered in a new era, a golden age, and it was their place to be thanked.

In orbit of Earth one more gesture unfolded. A line of Belt Alliance ships were deployed above Earth, hundreds of them in all shapes and sizes. Some were tankers that had fed the fleet, others cargo haulers that had moved munitions and troops, others were normal ships converted as auxiliary carriers. All of them had done their part in the war and were recognized for it, ISN ships filming them as they arrayed proudly, taking a perfect formation despite the eclectic nature of their vessels.

The main show however was the formal return of the Earth Expeditionary Fleet. Many of the ships had already returned to duty stations but two thousand had been gathered together for this parade, the biggest gathering of human ships in peacetime. Those ships moved slowly across the bleakness, passing close to Earth so their twinkling forms could be observed from the planet below like a long river of moving stars.

The ISN crews caught the ships from above, tracking the grey vessels as they crossed by their homeworld, dark against the orb of Earth and catching the glint of the distant sun as they moved out of Earth's shadow and into a spectacular blaze of light, a rising halo of yellow that made the ships appear to fly from night into day in just one instant.

The fleet had been deployed by Taskforce, each group of ships following each other in the procession. Of the Taskforces few were complete, most had ships missing from them, gaps in the linear formations speaking of a lost comrade and a crew that was no longer there. Sometimes there was a long gap in the procession, the space that would have been occupied by a taskforce that had been completely destroyed in battle. Scattered in among them were fighter squadrons, and there too many had gaps in their formation were craft were missing. Near the front of the procession was the Thirteenth Tactical Fighter Squadron, the Starfuries gathered around an empty space where their leader David Sinclair would have flown. They bore black and white victory stripes, but found little joy in the achievement.

The first Taskforce was missing, the vessels that should have been there were the escorts to Admiral Hamato and his flagship, but the EAS Hannibal was gone along with all her support ships, and so instead a different vessel had been selected to lead the procession, a ship that bore the scars and damage of hastily patched up weapon impacts and collision points.

"Quite a sight." Toby remarked as the procession crossed by. "Ever seen that many ships before? I mean Earth ships?"

"No, not really." Jors agreed beside him, staring through the flight deck windows of the venerable freighter Space Race. "We missed all the big Earth led battles, which for the record I'm cool with."

"Come on, you telling me you never wanted to see those guys in a real fight?"

"No, not once." Jors answered.

"You never wanted to see a battleline of Nova Dreadnoughts unleash hell?"

"Nope."

"You never wanted to see thousands of Starfuries diving through space and duelling with thousands of Thoruns?"

"Nope."

"Well I did!" Toby complained.

"So why didn't you join Earth Force you moron?" Jors barked.

"Because I'm not cool with getting shot!" He countered. "Which tends to happen a lot whenever we go anywhere!"

"I blame you for that by the way." Jors countered.

Toby shrugged and looked out, the Belt Alliance formation deployed beside them. "At least we got a space in the Parade."

"At the front of the Belter contingent." Jors pointed out. "Which is cool."

"After all we went through we should be leading the navy parade too." Toby scoffed. "What did that ship at the front ever do?"

"Toby, that's the Nemesis." Jors gestured at the ship chosen to lead the fleet. "And if you say anything bad about her you can walk back to Mars."

"Oh, right, that Nemesis." Toby back tracked. "Okay, fine." He exhaled. "You know something, I bet the chief would have liked to see this. He enjoyed big parades and stuff."

"Yeah, yeah he did." Jors nodded solemnly. "But you know what? I bet he's watching this right now, somewhere out there Paul Calendar is kicking back with some heavenly beer and cheering those guys on."

"You bet he is." The current Captain confirmed from the central seat behind the two other crewmen. "He wouldn't miss this for anything, even been in heaven."

"Good to know." Jors smiled and turned in his seat. "So where to next Captain?"

Jenny Sakai pondered the question for a few moments. "I hear there's a few major contracts out on Brakir, way things are shaping up with the rebuilding there'll be a lot to keep us busy."

"We taking her?" Toby thumbed at another new crewmember.

"Do you mean the new sensor officer?" Jenny arched an eyebrow. "And she has a name, what is it, fully?"

Toby sighed. "Lieutenant Catherine Sakai."

From the seat the small child saluted, sticking out her chin with the same sort of pride her Aunt felt.

"Yes, we are taking her, time she got her space legs." Jenny confirmed.

"Aye aye Captain!" Catherine chirped. "All scopes clear."

Jors laughed gently. "She's better than you at that job Toby."

"Thanks big man, thanks a lot."

Jenny smiled widely, knowing she had made the right choice. This place was her home, this assortment of pipes and metal panels. She belonged here more truthfully than anywhere else in the galaxy, and she had a legacy to continue. Paul couldn't command this vessel he had loved so much anymore, so instead she would, and one day his child would, and that was all that now mattered to her.

"Catherine, come here." She spoke with a smile.

The young girl, still in junior school unfastened her much tightened seat belts and floated over to the Captains chair with particular grace, displaying a naturally affinity for zero gravity. She caught the chair arm and came to a rest, latching her trouser belt to a nearby hook to tether herself.

"See that ship, that ship out there?" Jenny asked.

"The big square one?"

"Yeah, now that ship is called Lady Nemesis, and she's alive."

"Aunty, ships aren't alive."

"And how do you know?"

"I'm not a kid anymore, I am seven now!" Catherine replied firmly.

"Well that one is alive, the Captain says so, and Captain's are never wrong about their ships."

"Really?" she opened her big eyes wider.

"Really." Jenny replied. "Do want to hear a story about it? And your Uncle Paul?"

"Yes Aunty." Catherine said genuinely. "What's it about?"

"You'll have to listen and find out." Jenny smiled warmly. "But we have to go back two and half years, when you were even smaller, and travel to a magic far away land called the Afterburner Club…"

Beyond the front of the battered little freighter the mighty form of the EAS Nemesis crossed from the shadow of Earth and caught the bright sun, the brilliant rays illuminating her damaged but unbowed form. She had faced the worst the enemy had to offer, she had endured loss and injury, but she had fought back, she had never wavered and never broken, and in the end she had destroyed the greatest of humanities foes. Now she had come home, and following behind came the rest of Earth Force walking in her footsteps and flying into the promising bright and golden light


	103. Chapter 103

Epilogue

Babylon 5

2258

"And the rest is silence." Jha'dur, last Warmaster of the Dilgar recited the line of human literature. "Strange to look back on it now, the things that were so important once upon time, lives that meant more than your own, no just history retold as a tale for the generations. A moment of human glory, of national pride and achievement." She raised her eyes to Francis. "Still, you deserved it, you fought well and fairly with simple tools."

Deputy Director Francis O'Leary frowned. "I'm surprised to hear you say that."

"Why? It is the simple truth. Contrary to what you may think I am not a demon, not a cackling maniac drunk on blood. I can recognise when an enemy fights well, even though I may not appreciate it."

"I just find it odd you are almost congratulating Earth for wiping out your race."

"Earth didn't wipe out my people, you didn't trigger the nova, you didn't bomb cities and sow plagues. You acted with honour and compassion, and while I find that rather pointless and amusing I understand it meant something to you." She laughed quietly under her breath at the concept. "I never understood how humanity could wage a war, be so ready and willing to kill, and then in one instant go from killing to helping their enemies. I had plenty of time to study the concept, and still don't truly understand how it came about."

"Because we don't hate our enemies." Francis said.

Jha'dur smiled. "Now that Mr O'Leary is a fib."

"You're thinking about the Minbari aren't you?" Francis answered. "But there is a distinction, we can hate individuals for what they did in a war, but not the entire race. We can tell the difference between a good Dilgar and a bad Dilgar, between a war criminal and an average soldier who was simply fighting for his world."

"And the Minbari?"

"There's a belief on Earth that the entire Minbari race wanted us dead, and so people respond in kind and hate all Minbari. When people move on and realize most Minbari aren't proud of the war that attitude will change."

"You're assuming they aren't." Jha'dur picked up. "Why don't you think the Minbari still want you all dead?"

"I have my reasons." Francis said simply.

"I spent much time among the warriors. They really don't like you." The Dilgar broke into a smile. "They don't like you at all, and if they could many of them would restart the war tomorrow. They just need a viable excuse, no matter how tenuous."

"Then we must be careful not to give them one."

"The Minbari do hate their enemies, they have a great deal of rage and frustration." Jha'dur said quietly. "But they also have fear, a deep dark fear that at some point in their life time they will be fighting an enemy they might not be able to defeat. There is a prophesy Mr O'Leary, one many Minbari believe of a great war coming, and one the Warriors expect to loose vast numbers of people to. It scares them, and that fear breeds anger and frustration. Your people just happened to do the wrong thing at the wrong time and bore the brunt of that fear and anger. You still do."

She drank a little more Brivari, savouring the concoction. "Very impressive indeed. Good blend."

"When you were with the Minbari, why didn't you offer them what you are offering us?" Francis asked.

"What makes you think I didn't?" She returned with dancing eyes, enjoying the verbal sparring. "What makes you think I didn't give them biological weapons that makes everything else I created look like a bad case of flu? Why do you imagine I wouldn't help them wipe your species from the face of the galaxy?"

"Because you said you respected us."

Jha'dur broke into a loud laugh, one that chilled Francis.

"My dear Mr O'Leary, do you think that means a damn to me? Don't confuse admiration of your military prowess for compassion and an interest in your well being. To survive I had to appear useful to the Windswords, and if that usefulness and my survival came at the price of ten billion human lives, do not pretend to yourself that I would not take that opportunity in a heartbeat. There is only one life that matters to me, and all I do revolves around keeping myself alive in a very, very hostile galaxy."

"Is that why you are exchanging Minbar for Earth?" Francis asked.

"More or less." She nodded. "Simply put I think Earth is a safer long term investment, given what I have learned about the future I can see Earth doing very well. Very well indeed."

"What do you mean?"

"You defeated my people through skill, determination and courage, I willingly admit that." Jha'dur stated. "You showed the same attributes when battling the Minbari, but technology was against you. If your people had superior technology, if you could fight on at least an equal basis with any power in this galaxy, I am positive you would win. You just need the technology, and that Mr O'Leary I can help you with."

"How?"

"I have more skills than just plagues and cybernetics." She smiled. "And I have certain pieces of information that should prove most useful indeed to your weapons research division."

"So you expect Earth to be successful in any future wars?"

"Based on what I know, and from what I have heard whispered, I think Earth is going to play a very important role in the coming war."

"You keep mentioning that." Francis grimaced. "What coming war?"

She tipped the glass and winked, a very human gesture. "All in good time."

She put the glass back down on the table with a clink and leaned back in her chair.

"I will tell you this Mr O'Leary, you are well aware that the war with the Minbari ravaged Earth, but perhaps you'd be interested to know that the Minbari themselves were pushed to breaking point by the effort."

He raised an eyebrow, the gesture amusing Jha'dur.

"You see it wasn't just economic problems the Minbari had, or logistical problems which for the record made me laugh for days on end. Typical Warriors, they seem to think you can fight a war without a supply chain. All glory hunters, no support units. It was the best entertainment I'd seen in years. Still, the point is the war opened up divisions in their society, fractures that had been forcible smoothed over by Valen back in their early history."

Francis considered what he knew of Minbari society, which like most humans was very little indeed.

"Division between the castes, I'm guessing over the surrender?"

"In part, certainly that still drives the Warriors into a violent rage. I just had to mention the word and could sit back and watch two hours worth of ranting Minbari expose all his hidden insecurities and paranoia. It got boring it was so easy, no challenge." She smiled at the memory. "But more than that, the fear that drove the Warriors to fight so vigorously disgusted the other castes. They looked on the slaughter and the warriors dancing in it, and it triggered something fundamental in their beliefs. They distanced themselves from the warriors, and then when the religious caste imposed the surrender it drove the warriors even further from society."

"So all the unity they show on the outside…"

"…Is exactly that, a show." Jha'dur confirmed. "They have split, and that split will only grow over time. When war comes upon them they will fracture, break, and fall. Ironic as this may sound, Earth has probably beaten the Minbari in the final analysis and will be the root cause of their future defeat and destruction, you just don't know it yet."

"But you can see it coming." Francis realised. "So you left while you still could."

"If I had stayed much longer, waited until the great war erupted or at least began to move, the Warriors would have forced me to stay, would have demanded my help like never before. I would have been trapped in an empire doomed to fall because they do not have the unity or strength of purpose to earn victory. Their fall would have killed me, and I'd prefer to avoid that."

"But even divided the Minbari are still stronger than Earth?" Francis considered.

"Actually Mr O'Leary, five years from now you might be surprised at what power Earth will have gained."

"So it all comes down to survival again?" Francis said flatly.

"It always does, everything we do is centred on survival. Everything." Jha'dur confirmed. "The Narn and Centauri were good alternatives, but Earth has that little something extra that appeals to me."

"And what is that?" Francis asked. "What about Earth could appeal to someone like you?"

She deflected the question with a friendly wave.

"So Earth took its place in the galaxy, began to exercise influence for its own good. Spoils of war."

Francis nodded. "We did. We came out of the war, richer, stronger and more influential. Even after the Minbari war we still benefit from that victory, and our fighting reputation went a long way towards intimidating the other powers into leaving us alone when we were at our weakest."

"Very helpful, and I'm sure there was quite a campaign of disinformation from the EIA to help enforce that image?"

"It was a busy time for us." Francis admitted.

"Pity you couldn't count on the same help from the League as you gave them." Jha'dur led on gently. "Such gratitude."

"The League was still rebuilding after what you did to them." Francis said simply. "They tried to help, but where intimidated by the Minbari into standing down."

"Weak." Jha'dur scoffed. "I always considered them a lower form of life, not worth the air they so liberally breathe."

"On that we're going to have to disagree." He answered diplomatically.

She gave him a wide grin. "You may not agree, but more and more humans do. Their actions have badly influenced how Earth perceives its alleged allies in the galaxy. Earth is drifting away from the League, the galaxy is dividing, stratifying into different ideologies and power blocks. Frankly I find it exhilarating, like the electric in the air before a thunderstorm. Sooner or later we all have to pick a side, I've just picked mine Mr O'Leary, be grateful I made the choice that I did."

"We'll be ready to go soon." Francis remarked. "We can talk more when we reach the facility."

"As you wish."

"But I do have one more question, last one." Francis said. "Why did you pick Earth?"

"I already answered that, you are my best chance for survival."

"That is one reason, and maybe you convinced yourself it was the best reason, but I've studied you Jha'dur, I know it's never so simple and easy."

She smiled and nodded. "Bravo Mr O'Leary, you are right, there is something more."

"So tell me, why Earth?"

Jha'dur poured another drink, taking her time and deliberately drawing out the moment.

"You know I've found my tolerance for Brivari has grown quite considerably over the years. I could probably drink the Centauri Ambassador under the table at this point."

"You're being evasive."

"Just making sure we both know that all that transpires here does so on my terms." She reminded. "Earth. Yes, apart from the obvious reasons of strength, military and industrial advantages, and the fact you hold a unique place in the galaxy, there is more."

"Go on."

"On the one hand I do believe in giving the victor the spoils. Your race did beat me and so by rights should profit from the Dilgar defeat, that is the truth." She informed. "But there is also something I told you about earlier, my legacy."

"You already have a legacy."

"Yes, but it isn't enough for me." She said honestly. "I want more. Right now I am nothing but a hate figure, demonised and reviled. Perhaps I deserve that, but I deserve more too. My work didn't just destroy, it created. Everybody remembers the bad but never the good."

"Because the bad was so overwhelming."

"From your perspective, from mine it was just a chore." Jha'dur dismissed the fate of billions with a casual wave. "They died so I could create my masterpiece, and I offer that now to Earth."

"Because we defeated you?"

"Mostly because I want to live." She answered with a grin. "It is my ticket Mr O'Leary, though as a bonus I will hand you the secrets of the Minbari and some of my other works, weapons that will give you nightmares." She spoke the last with relish. "My skills have only grown with time, you'd be surprised to see what I have created."

She sighed.

"I'm giving you eternity, immortality, and not asking for anything more in return than a place to live."

"And if we're being honest, I don't trust you." Francis replied firmly. "What aren't you telling us?"

"I can see why they promoted you, a very distrustful nature. Were you always this paranoid?"

"What's the catch?"

"Or is this paranoia recent? A reaction to the threats you see all around you?" She mused. "Sometimes you can immerse yourself so completely in a world that you cannot tell when you leave it. Lead a life of suspicion for long enough and everything becomes suspicious, even those with the best of intentions."

"I don't believe your intentions have anything to do with what is best for me or Earth."

"Maybe, or maybe not. But why does it matter? Earth will gain no matter what, so what do my intentions matter?"

"Easy answer, you spent two and a half decades manipulating the Minbari because they lusted for the power you can give them, and now by a strange coincidence half the black agencies on Earth are fighting to bring you in, all busy lusting for that same power."

"Humans are smarter than Minbari." Jha'dur countered.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean you can't play them for your own schemes and grant yourself massive power and influence at the heart of the Earth Alliance."

"Such a suspicious nature." She shook her head.

"Yes, but it doesn't mean I'm wrong." Francis returned. "I'll tell you what I think."

"Please do." Jha'dur folder her arms and smiled widely.

"I think you'll use this to get your foot in the door, but that isn't enough for you."

"No?"

"No." Francis nodded. "You have something else, another hook that will keep you around in the long term, an insurance policy so Earth can't just dispose of you. I don't mean research either, something more, something where the Government becomes dependent on you."

"What a wonderful fantasy."

"And that dependence gives you power, the ability to shape human policy. That won't happen Jha'dur, you will try to use Earth to finish your war, to settle your debts, to finish what you started thirty years ago."

"You can't finish what I started, Omelos is dead, remember?"

"This isn't about Omelos, not for you." Francis shook his head with a grimace. "You stopped caring about Omelos and the lives of your race a long time ago, even while they were still alive."

"Indeed?"

"This is about retribution." Francis announced. "You don't want to save anyone beside yourself, you want to get even. You said it yourself, the League is nothing, they don't deserve to live, and you'll use Earth to finish them! Hell you already know much of humanity has turned against them, how easy would it be for someone like you to turn Earth into fighting your vendetta for you?"

"Marvellous deduction."

"That is why you chose Earth and not any other powers, because we are the easiest power for you to send to war with the League, and I'm sure the irony of the saviours of the League wiping them out thrills you!"

Slowly Jha'dur began to clap together her gloved hands.

"Oh well done Francis, well done. My compliments."

"What it all comes down to is revenge."

"No, more than that." Jha'dur smiled widely, a look of superiority. "My legacy. Believe it or not revenge is not my concern."

"I don't."

"Fine, but it isn't." She said. "I want more. I didn't shape this galaxy just to have it all go back to normal when I leave it. I created something and I want to see it continue, forever."

"What could you possibly have created?"

"A new order, a new way of living." She said calmly. "The worthy live, the weak die. My race proved weak, and so they died, but not me. I am still here, I was strong enough to survive and so it seemed was humanity. Twice."

"So you come to Earth because you believe we are the strongest?"

"Again, that is one reason, one of many." She agreed. "A perfect convergence of logic, everything pointed to Earth, demanded my future play out there. It will be my seat, and I will give you what you most desire. With my help Earth will rule the galaxy."

"You're delusional."

"Really?" She smiled thinly. "You know you are right, there will be a continuing need for me. You see there is a part of my serum which cannot be synthesised, it must be taken in the field, and of all the people in the galaxy I am the one most qualified and most skilled when it comes to harvesting this component molecule efficiently."

"What is it?"

Jha'dur grinned very widely. "Selected brain tissue from living sentient beings."

Francis just stared at her as his brain worked through the statement.

"I take your silence as confirmation of my brilliance." She chuckled. "Yes you may have immortality, but for every life extended one other life has to be lost. For ten billion humans to live, ten billion aliens must die. Actually Mr O'Leary, that's still not close to my total, but when those immortals have children it will require billions more to die so they too may live forever. And what of their children, and theirs?"

"A never ending cycle." Francis spat hatefully.

"Precisely." She said calmly. "So now you see my legacy Mr O'Leary, the billions who live forever will be my crowning glory, the greatest monument to my genius, and the billions who die to give that life, they will be the continuation of my work. Beautiful symmetry don't you think?"

"You are absolutely insane."

"Wrong Mr O'Leary, I have never been more clear in mind and purpose. This is what I gave the galaxy, this is what I started, this is the shape I began to make it into. Now Earth will finish the task."

"Never." Francis said solemnly.

"Don't fool yourself." She dismissed. "You spent so long extolling how Omelos could have been like Earth, how we Dilgar were just poor misguided versions of humans. Well now you see the other side of that is true, that humans can become just as cruel and blood stained as my race were. You just need the right motivation, and believe me Mr O'Leary it is a tiny, tiny nudge that is required to turn you into me."

"You underestimate us, like you did before."

She laughed. "No Francis, I know your race far too well. I never underestimated you, I knew from even before the war that combat with humanity would be nothing but a disaster for Omelos. I now humans, I know exactly what drives you and it is not so far from what drives me and mine. That's why you will survive the coming war, that's why I chose to give humanity this marvellous gift, and that is why I am here. You have potential, you have the ability to be better than the Dilgar, and the strength to do what my race could not. The strength to finish my work."

"We are not you." Francis said. "We turned away from that path a long time ago."

"But you can always go back, I have seen it." She grinned. "You comfort yourselves by saying that we were monsters, that you could never do what we did. But you will Francis, you will. You will become us, a new Dilgar Imperium drenched in the blood of billions of slaughtered Aliens, standing on conquered worlds and murdering day and night so you may live forever."

"We would never take one life to save our own, never."

"You're a fool if you think that." She returned gleefully. "I know for a fact you know it Francis, you know exactly what humanity is capable of because you have seen it first hand. You know about the circles moving in government, the men behind the scenes and what they will do for this."

Francis nodded. "Perhaps you're right."

"I am right, and we both know it."

"So I suppose the only way to prevent the deaths of tens of billions of people…"

"Probably trillions." She corrected. "Over eternity."

"So the only way to save them, is to prevent temptation." He picked up the ornate gun he had produced earlier. "And the way to do that, would be to kill you."

Jha'dur did not flinch, her composure never changed.

"Quite a choice isn't it?" she said. "Untold billions of lives resting on your head, on your nerve. You can save whole worlds, and at the same time preserve the moral integrity of humanity, prevent your race becoming vampires. But to do it you must take a life, one staring you right in the face."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Liar." She said calmly. "You've never done this before, never stared someone in the face and pulled the trigger."

"No?"

"I can see it in your face. You have sent people to their deaths, but from a distance, you never had to watch them die at your hands like you have to now. You imagine it's the same thing, that it can't be much harder, but then here you are, face to face, a living breathing being at your mercy." She smiled at the word. "Mercy Francis, that quality you value among humanity. If you believe taking a life balances out, if killing one soul is worth the survival of another, where does it end? If your wife was dying would you kill me to save her? Would you kill an innocent to save her? At the end of that path Francis is exactly where I have led you. Take one life to save one life, a stranger on an alien world for your child. Tell me you wouldn't do that? tell me you wouldn't kill someone just so someone near to you could live?"

He held the gun steady. "You don't count."

She broke out in surprising laughter. "Brilliant, just the type of rationalisation I knew humanity possessed! Excellent Francis, you are confirming my choice was the right one."

"Only if you walk off this station."

"I've noticed you are still talking and not shooting, you hesitate." Jha'dur said. "You are not a murderer, and I suppose you may consider that a good thing. If our places were reversed you know I'd have pulled the trigger in a heartbeat. You know your friends in the EIA, the director, field agents, they all kill without a second thought. But you aren't like them are you?"

"If the need is great enough…"

His finger tightened.

"Consider this then, Francis O'Leary." Jha'dur dropped her voice. "You may not kill me to save a life, but would you save my life in order to save another?"

"What?"

"Would you let me live if somebody elses life depended on it?"

He didn't answer, but she could see he was trying to find the right answer. She had him.

"How is Heather? And what about young Dom and Everil, how are they? Must be all grown up now."

Francis froze like a stone.

"Yes, funny who you end up speaking to." Jha'dur smiled triumphantly. "I knew you were coming Francis, of course I did. My contacts in the Alliance were very helpful. If I do not get on a ship, if you have an attack of conscience, my new friends will take your family, do very bad things to them, and then leave them in pieces on your doorstep."

The words hit Francis like a nuclear strike.

"So you see Francis, you have a choice. Save a bunch of alien strangers, or save your family." She smiled. "Same choice every single one of your race will soon have to make when I reveal my serum. Make your choice Francis, shoot me or put the gun down."

He wavered.

"Choose!" Jha'dur bellowed. "What will it be Deputy Director? What do you choose when it is your own loved ones in harm? Do you sacrifice them to save whole worlds? Or do I walk away and you go home to your family?"

It was an impossible situation, he didn't know if she was telling the truth, but believed she was. He knew what people existed in the shadows back home, and that they were more than capable of doing what she described. He lessened hiss grip, and lowered the gun. There were other ways.

"Not so hard was it?" She said more quietly. "You see now what I mean? That it is within human nature to save those they love over billions of others they will never know? Not every race has that common sense, that practicality. Humanity does, and so did the Dilgar. We are the same."

Francis was badly shaken, but forced himself to look her in the eyes.

"No we are not."

"Still clinging to that delusion? What more evidence do you want?"

"You changed, you aren't the same person who fought in the war."

"I am, I just came to some realisations."

"The old Jha'dur fought for her race, she did bad things, unspeakable things, but she did it so her people could live. She wanted to save her world, not destroy all life but her own."

"Perhaps I have changed my mind? Perhaps my work demands lives, perhaps I demand lives? If we were not fit to live, why should anyone else?" She snarled with sudden bitterness. "Earth is the closest thing I have to home, and I hate that, but I hate everything else more. So Earth can live, and I can live, and everyone else can burn in the hells!"

"You have changed."

"You didn't know me before."

"No." Francis nodded, then tossed a piece of metal on the table. "But he did."

The item bounced over to her, and she picked it up, a small gold coloured badge she recognised at once. They were Dilgar flight wings, and this was not the first time she had held them as she examined the back.

"They are genuine." Francis said. "And he gave me them in person before I came here."

She stared hard at the badge, and the name on it.

"You are telling me Ari'shan still lives?" She laughed. "A likely story!"

"How else would I know about you? How about the fact he refused to fir eon unarmed ships at Krish? Something you took those wings for?" Francis prompted. "It was never reported, never recorded. No one else knew, certainly no one left alive."

"Where is he?"

"On a small world, out of the way." He replied. "Administered solely by the EIA. He isn't alone either, we picked up quite a few friends of his, enough to build a viable population. A self sustaining colony under his rule that is slowly growing."

It was Jha'dur's turn to be surprised.

"You are telling me there is a Dilgar colony? In Earth space?"

"That's right. So you see, you aren't the last of your kind, your race has survived." Francis said simply. "And there is no reason for you to avenge your extinction because it never happened."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Why did we keep them alive?" Francis shrugged. "They were good people, they deserved a chance to live."

She looked at the badge. "With Ari'shan in charge?"

"That's right. You know he flew Starfuries against the Minbari for us? In secret of course. You see we didn't think your people deserved to be wiped out even after all you had done, because humans aren't like that. We saved them despite the risks and despite what the League might think, and one day when the memory ha dimmed they'll come back and they will make something of themselves in the galaxy. Productively."

Jha'dur broke into a wide smile. "Beautiful Mr O'Leary, magnificent."

"If you come with the EIA, if you abandon your plans, if you ignore the other agencies, you can join them. You can be reunited with your people and your friend Ari'shan. We'll let you work, let you research medicines, we'll give you a legacy, but a better one! A true legacy to be proud of."

"Truly magnificent." She put the badge down. "No."

Francis blinked a few times. "No?"

"Correct." She said simply. "Because if it is true, which I am not convinced about, then they are not my people. They are human puppets, an ego trip by your race trying to turn another species into little versions of you."

"They have free government and…"

"And nothing, they are conquered, you have them on a leash!"

"They are a peaceful stable colony, they are what you wanted for the Dilgar!"

"I no longer care about the Dilgar, alive or dead!" Jha'dur snapped. "I care about me, and I care about my work! You think I will abandon all I have created for this fantasy land? This theme park? You fool yourself."

"I am offering you the one thing nobody else can give you, a place to truly belong."

"Truly belong?" she sneered. "Shall I tell you where I belong? On a throne made from the bones of my victims, looking at a galaxy in flames! I belong in war, my hands covered in the blood of my foes! Earth will be my instrument, my means of realising my future. Yes, you will fight for yourselves, your own survival and vengeance, but I will be there Francis leading the way, setting the example. The fleets of Earth that defeated me will follow my orders, I will use them to slay the League, and the Minbari and everyone else! It is what I was born for, it is my destiny, and no little Dilgar commune will sway me from that most high of purposes."

Francis quietly stood, and shut his case sealing away his items.

"We have nothing further to discuss."

She smiled. "Hurt your feelings?"

"I was wrong about you, and so was Ari."

"He should have killed himself instead of enduring capture, he shames us all." Jha'dur dismissed. "When I attain my place of power I will find these people and show them what a real Dilgar looks like. Then they can follow me, or perish."

He took the case from the desk and walked quietly to the door.

"The ship will arrive on schedule, we will not speak again."

"Don't be so sure Mr O'Leary." She gave him a little wave and wide grin. "Be seeing ya."

He walked in silence back to the docking bay, going through the motions of customs and passing through without hindrance. He felt he had failed in his mission, and the glimpse of the future Jha'dur had given him terrified. Mostly because he knew it could easily happen.

He stepped onto his shuttle and walked to the front, the doors sealing behind him. It was a small and scruffy looking vessel, unremarkable in every way which of course was entirely intentional. It shifted beneath his feet as the pad it was parked on began moving, shifting it up into launch position while he moved up to the flight deck and sat beside the pilot.

"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine?" The pilot joked. "Did it just drop five degrees in here?"

"Yeah, very funny Jenny."

His old friend smiled genuinely, highlighting an assortment of wrinkles on her middle aged but still striking face.

"I told you, remind me Francis, I did tell you?"

"Yeah, you did."

"She's not the sort of person you reason with, she's a monster, an egomaniacal one at that."

"I thought I could get through, make her see things differently."

"She's not going to be the same person from the war, I mean she was bad enough but still had a spark of something. Are you surprised after all this time that she's got worse?"

"Truthfully? No, not really."

The shuttle clunked to a halt.

"Babylon control this is Race Shuttle requesting departure clearance." Jenny announced.

"Did you leave Freddy in charge of the ship?" Francis guessed.

"Yeah, and hopefully he'll still be there when we launch." She exhaled. "I tell you, he never stays still. He'll be twenty five soon, and he still has the energy of a kid."

"This is Babylon Control." Ivanova's voice chirped in calmly. "You are cleared to depart."

"Roger that."

"And next time, don't try sneaking around on my station, I'm like he oracle, I see everything. Pleasant flight."

Jenny grinned. "She sounds nice."

"She is when you meet her. But she likes to be in charge."

"I sympathise." Jenny nodded. "Not the time to say I've been sneaking aboard this place since it opened?"

"No, better not."

The shuttle lifted off and passed through the doorways, heading out into space and the stunning view beyond.

"What will happen to Jha'dur?" Jenny wondered. "Want me to, you know…"

"No, not necessary." Francis said. "I had a word with General Hague, he sent the EAS Thanatos to pick her up."

"Thanatos, as in Joe Tennant's ship?" Jenny chuckled. "Nice one."

"I think he's got a little business to finish with her from twenty six years ago." Francis smiled. "Can't let it get out that the old Lady Nemesis left her biggest rival alive now, can he?"

Jenny shared a laugh. "So where to, home?"

Francis nodded warmly.

"Home."

The Docking bay

The following day.

The two security guards took her through a maintenance corridor, constantly checking around themselves as they led the Warmaster off the station.

"You need to speak to the cleaning staff." She remarked as they passed down back corridors. "If this had been allowed to happen on my ship I'd have had someone flogged to the bone."

They avoided the main customs areas for fear of someone hiding there with a desire to assassinated Deathwalker despite the deal made between Earth and the League, one that had so amused the Dilgar. They didn't understand, Jeffrey Sinclair may well have been a product of war, but he didn't have the same focus she had. He was as much a nation builder as a fighter despite his impressive combat record, and she had learned a lot about him from the Minbari.

The two guards continued to the edge of the docking bay, her ship visible in the distance, and then inexplicably stopped.

"Lost your way?" she probed. "Don't worry, simply follow my directions and we'll somehow make it."

Without a word they removed her handcuffs and stepped back. She had been told the two men were among the best and most loyal, one of them quite sound with curly black hair. He was keeping an amused expression as another man walked onto the scene, another human.

"Ah, how interesting." She said. "An assassination, perhaps you don't know who you are dealing with."

"They know exactly who you are." The new man said in a voice so slick and oily it positively dripped words. He wore a plain suit and dark hair, but his eyes were remarkably pale, fixing her with an intense but oddly relaxed stare. "In fact they work for your new friends."

"Bureau men then?" she looked at them.

"Picked to ensure you arrived here safely." The other man said. "Some in station security would be tempted to make sure you never left here alive."

"But not these two, how thoughtful."

With a nod the two guards left the area, leaving Jha'dur and the other man alone.

"Well, all alone now." She smiled. "Do you have a name?"

"Yes." He said with a growing smile. "Call me Morden."

"Well then Mr Morden, come here often?"

"This is my first time here actually." He said. "I've been elsewhere, eventually I'll need to visit this place properly, but for now I don't need to step beyond this point."

"Which leads me to the obvious question, what do you want?"

He grinned widely. "An excellent question, perhaps the best thing you could have said."

She sighed. "I don't really have time for games right now…"

"What I want is an open question, but the reason I am here is to keep you alive." Morden said to the point.

"An escort?"

"In a way." He agreed. "If you step on that ship, you will die."

She looked at her acquired Minbari ship. "A bomb?"

"A Vorlon." Morden answered. "They are waiting for you, when you leave here they will kill you."

"Not very friendly of them, I never even tried to kill them."

"You did provide the poison the rogue Windsword used on Kosh last year." Morden said simply.

"Oh yes, that." She beamed. "Quite an effect little concoction wouldn't you say?"

"Very effective, and just one more reason Earth wants you in one piece."

"So are you a Bureau man Mr Morden?"

"No, not really, but my organisation is beginning to work very closely with them and we support their agenda. We also support your agenda."

"My Agenda Mr Morden?"

"Something about a galaxy in flames and wiping out the weak so the strong may survive?"

She chuckled. "So we have a meeting of minds here?"

"My associates are impressed by the resilience you have shown, and your continued ingenuity and passion for your cause. They'd like to help you make your dream a reality."

"And who are your associates?" She paused. "Ah, wait, I know Mr Morden. So they are using humans for their business now? Can't blame them, you are a resourceful race, and less noticeable than the Drakh."

Morden grinned. "Very perceptive. I work for the same group, and we have big plans for Earth. We think you could be an asset to both Earth and our own long term plans."

"And in return?"

"We give you what you want, simple as that." Morden stated. "My associates were very upset they missed your war, they had been looking forward to it for some time. They aren't sure what exactly happened to spoil their plan, but normally the Vorlons are behind things like this."

"I assume you have a plan to get me off then?" She smiled knowingly. "Or at least off the station?"

"We'll rig your ship with an auto pilot, put in a pilot that will appear to be you on scans and provide appropriate biomass for the clean up crews to scrape together. It will look like you were killed. Our technology is good enough to fool even the Vorlons, for a while."

"Long enough for me to make my escape through a different route?"

"My associates have an alternate ship ready, it will take you to the Earth facility we're helping run."

"So no hard feelings about Salasine?" She raised an eyebrow. "He's still down there you know?"

"He failed." Morden shrugged. "My associates consider it a just punishment."

"I see."

Morden paused. "My associates do have one tiny condition, barely worth mentioning really, we already know the answer."

"What condition?" she raised.

"More of a question really, one you were asked a long time ago but never answered."

Jha'dur nodded. "Go on."

Morden raised his eyes to hers. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" She repeated, considering each word. "So simple, yet so difficult."

"We already know of course, this is just a formality." Morden said. "We heard your conversation."

"But how do you know that is what I really want?" she said. "What if I have changed my mind since then?"

Morden's eyes grew a little colder. "You should know that a lot depends on your answer here, if you answer wrongly my associates will leave you for the Vorlons."

"Perhaps I would welcome them." She considered. "Perhaps the Human was right, perhaps my era is dead and gone and the Dilgar of the past should stay there."

"If that is the case, you'll soon be joining them." Morden warned.

"Or if I want to live, you will fake my death and let me finish my work." She said. "Simple choice, live or die. Do I act as you expect me to act, or choose the path I would have taken many years ago before all of this came to pass." She smiled. "It's not just about what I want, it's about who I am too."

"The only question that matters is the one that will keep you alive." Morden said impatiently. "Time's running out Warmaster, one last time. What do you want?"

Jha'dur raised her eyes and held his cold stare, taking his measure and perceiving that behind his eyes there was insecurity and weakness, that there was fear. He was a middle man, a go between, not a shaper of destiny like she was. Not a nexus.

She smiled widely in that knowledge, understanding that they needed her for their plans more than she needed them for hers, and that put the power firmly on her side.

Still smiling, she gave Morden her answer.


	104. Chapter 104

**ISN Special report, 2271**

As we move the commemorate the fortieth anniversary of the Earth Alliance joining the Dilgar war, we look back at some of the famous names to emerge from that war and examine what happened to them after the events of that great and terrible conflict.

_Dieter Hauser, President of the Earth Alliance._

One of the most popular Presidents in history, Hauser was applauded for taking a stand against the Dilgar and keeping his nerve and commitment to the war despite mounting human casualties. He served two successful terms before being constitutionally required to step down and make way for a successor. However his legacy managed to give his party two more landslide victories in subsequent elections until the Minbari war destroyed its reputation.

Recently criticism has been levelled against Hauser for his post Dilgar policy of large scale expansion continued through the Levy era, a policy largely blamed for the Minbari war.

Never the less Hauser's popularity remained largely unaffected as he toured universities and peaked public interest in politics and the process of government.

He died peacefully of natural causes in 2266.

_Harry Brogan- Secretary of State_

Outspoken and fervent Brogan was a controversial and powerful figure in the period leading up to the Minbari war. He strongly pushed for a policy of expansion and was a firm believer of human primacy in the galaxy. Despite strong support he never reached the post of Vice President or was able to fulfil his true dream of attaining the Presidency itself.

He was largely blamed for pushing his son in law, Mike Jankowski, into a position of responsibility he was unsuited for triggering the Prometheus incident. He was due to face trial but disappeared soon after being placed under house arrest. To this day no trace of him has ever been found.

Military-

_Alexei Denisov, General, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs._

Denisov gained popularity among his subordinates and politicians for recognising the Dilgar threat and preparing Earth Force to face it. While faced with the difficult task of balancing military strategy with political necessity Denisov managed to satisfy both sides of his job with remarkably little friction and great success. His organisational changes and restructuring of the military is largely quoted as the second largest reason for victory following the skill and courage of the soldiers themselves.

He served a further eight years as Chairman before stepping down for General Biek and assuming a more conventional post as Commander of the inner colonies defence network. He continued to serve in this role during the Minbari war setting up the Oz Doctrine to try and prolong humanity's survival in the face of overwhelming force.

He was finally killed in action during the Battle of Proxima III

_Donald Ferguson, Admiral, EA Sixth Fleet_

Following the death of Admiral Hamato Ferguson was promoted to chief of Naval Operations. He served this role throughout the period of re-ordering, often refusing promotion to the joint chiefs to remain on the bridge of a starship in the field, something his mentor Hamato had stressed as being the true post of an Admiral.

He commanded Earth Force field assets in the Minbari war, developing tactics with Denisov to avoid frontal battles and use small groups of ships to delay and distract the Minbari, committing large fleets only in the defence of colonies when there was no where else to retreat to.

He was killed in action defending Beta Durani midway through the war, and his loss was a particular blow to the embattled Earth Forces.

_William Hague, Lieutenant, 13th Tactical Fighter Squadron_

A gifted officer Hague's talents and leadership potential were clearly recognised by Earth Force. While the navy was reduced following the war Hague was promoted and given command of a Corvette on the Centauri border seeing much action against Raiders. During this time he married his sweetheart, April Green.

In this capacity he fought in the early stages of the Minbari war, successfully destroying a Minbari supply convoy with an ambush of three Corvettes. This victory at once brought him to the attention of the general public hungry for any good news and he was given command of the Heavy Cruiser Endymion. For the duration of the war Captain Hague performed hit and run attacks often deep behind enemy lines relying on pure skill and instinct to avoid the retribution of the Minbari. This private war was one of the few bright points for Earth in the conflict, and by the end of the war Hague commanded a decent sized task force with his first officer Sandra Hiroshi.

He missed the Battle of the Line due to a deep range assignment and as such was one of the EA's few active forces to survive the end of the conflict. His forces saw intense action shoring up the border against incursions by the Ch'Lonas and Koulani, desperate actions every bit as hard as his service in the war.

His actions and fame guaranteed him a position of responsibility in the new fleet, and he was made Chairman of the Joint Chiefs by President Santiago, a position he accepted and discharged truly throughout his service never wavering in his devotion of Earth.

Hague was killed in action during the Civil War, but his legacy of integrity was carried on by his followers and led eventually to victory.

_Joe Tennant, Captain, EAS Nemesis_

One of the more colourful characters of the war, Joe Tennant earned instant fame as being humanities most indestructible warrior. Despite taking heavy damage his ship survived the war with the highest kill ratio of any EA or allied vessel including the destruction of Deathwalkers flagship.

He commanded the EA Second fleet during the inter war years bearing the rank of Vice Admiral, and continued in this role during the Minbari war. He masterminded several successful guerrilla campaigns raiding Minbari bases over EA colonies and running supplies to ground forces. His luck however ran out at Proxima where his ship was severely damaged and had to be towed home.

The EAS Nemesis was only partially repaired by the time of the Line but still took part under Tennant and a skeleton crew, and while she fought well she was rapidly neutralised by the Minbari above Earth. Fortunately they surrendered before they could wipe out survivors allowing Tennant and several other crew members to survive the battle.

He served as Commander Naval Forces for Santiago before resigning in protest of Clarks early anti alien policies. He was rumoured to have taken part in several covert operations against Clark despite his age, but never formally returned to service during that time.

Ultimately though the 80 year old officer was recalled to duty during the Drakh Crisis as Earth needed every experienced officer it could find, and once again serves as Commander of Naval forces in the field.

_Anne Thornhill, Vice Admiral EAS Lexington_

As commander of a cruiser squadron from the EAS Lexington, Thornhill saw much action in the war and was later promoted to Command the EA Third Fleet. She led the first battle of the Earth Minbari war taking her veteran forces up against a Minbari fleet at New London Colony. She, and the rest of the elite Third fleet, were lost to the Minbari in that battle, hammering home the extreme technological edge of our enemy.

_Robert Lefcourt, Captain. EAS Brooklyn_

Lefcourt ended the Dilgar war with a solid reputation having stood up to Jha'dur and helped in her apparent demise. He proved a clever political officer in addition to a decent ship commander and found himself promoted to a desk job helping, and then later commanding Earth Forces exploration division.

He was acquitted of wrong doing in the Prometheus incident and praised for trying to but a balanced officer on the mission to counter Jankowski, despite Sheridan ultimately refusing the transfer. He was often the face of Earth Force in the Minbari war liasing with the Senate and reporting on the state of the war. He was given command of EA fixed defences during the Battle of the Line, but did not have a chance to engage the Minbari due to the surrender.

He continued to command defences in the Sol system under Santiago and Clark, retiring after the Civil War.

Like many officers he was recalled to help fight the Drakh where his experience was vital.

_Richard Franklin, Captain, 99th Airborne Regiment_

After fighting bravely in the conflict Franklin was singled out for promotion. He was made a Major and transferred to a post in the 509th Regiment, Earth Force Marine Corps. While the change to the Marines was unexpected Franklin embraced the challenge and continued to earn his reputation as a stalwart soldier, being promoted to Lieutenant Colonel after his actions in the Canal Wars.

He was commanding officer of the 509th on the Mining colony of Cyrus when the Minbari war broke out, trapping him and his unit on the planet. He took his troops under ground and in the mines, safe from bombardment, waged an intense guerrilla war against the occupying forces for the duration of the conflict.

The so called Tunnel War was witness to some of the most brutal fighting in Earth Force history, with Minbari incursions into the tunnel mazes being met by the 509th with extreme vigour. The narrow confines removed any technological edge the Minbari had and forced them to fight on Franklin's terms.

He reduced forces emerged from the tunnels after the war to a heroes welcome, and an immediate promotion to Brigadier General followed for Franklin to replace senior officers lost in the war. He served in this capacity during the revolution in the African Block and countering attacks on EA space from the Death World of Janos VII, eventually giving him the rank of lieutenant General and the post of a Divisional Commander.

He served in this role through the Civil War, maintaining command of the Io Corps and avoiding taking sides. He remained a Corps commander until his retirement from front line service. He currently serves as advisor to the EF Academy.

_Alfredo Garibaldi, Sergeant Major, 99th Airborne._

Following a leg injury suffered at Balos Alfredo was honourably discharged from the army with a full pension and a chest full of medals. He set up his own private security and investigation agency which proved very successful in the inter war years, often working with government agencies to uncover plots against Earth. He later employed his son, future B5 Security Chief Michael Garibaldi in the agency and taught him the tricks of the trade.

In the early Forties he was diagnosed with a severe neurological disease and given just years to live. A possible victim of Dilgar War Syndrome Alfredo was forced to take a cocktail of drugs to try and prolong his life, gradually growing weaker with each passing year.

When the Minbari war came he immediately volunteered for service, but due his condition was refused. As the war grew more desperate he was allowed to serve as a drill Sergeant on Mars as part of a Militia unit. Towards the end of the war he learned his son was stranded on Proxima, besieged by the Minbari along side many of his friends in the 99th. He joined his other old friends on the Space Race, ran the blockade and landed on Proxima where, despite his illness, he fought superbly against the Minbari with his old friends.

He fought until the last day of the war, where only after hearing of the surrender did he finally succumbed to his illness and fell into a coma, sure in the knowledge his world and family was safe. He died quietly eight months later, six years after the doctors predicted he would.

_99th Regiment, 101st Airborne Division (North American Screaming Eagles)_

Having earned fame in several major battles of the Dilgar war the unit survived the force cuts that came after the conflict ended. The unit served as a reserve force between wars, seeing action against Mars Rebels, alien incursion and Raiders.

During the Minbari war the Regiment fought with distinction raiding several planet side facilities before fighting in the fall of Proxima. As the last line of defence before Sol Earth Force ordered Proxima held to the last man, and the 99th did.

The unit took part in the legendary battle of the Hamato ridge, an engagement where two human divisions forced eight Minbari divisions into a killing ground, the Valley of Death. All eight Minbari divisions were destroyed, but not before annihilating the human defenders too. Only fifty people survived from over a hundred thousand, several from the 99th including the future Captain of the Excalibur, Matthew Gideon.

The regiment itself however was essentially wiped out, and has never been reformed. It has a memorial on Hamato ridge, and its name is remembered as a byword for bravery beyond the call of duty

EIA

_Karl Durban, Director, Earth Intelligence Agency_

While much of what the EIA did in the war is still classified, Karl Durban emerged with his reputation and that of his agency greatly enhanced after the conflict. He only served briefly after the war as Director, standing down and taking a post in the government as Defence Secretary by 2235.

He worked his way up, serving as Vice President to Elizabeth Levy during her administration and the Minbari war. Much to the chagrin of his rival Harry Brogan. He was widely tipped to follow on as President after Levy, but the war destroyed the party reputation gained against the Dilgar and allowed opposition leader Luis Santiago to gain a massive landslide victory in the 2250 elections.

After Levy quietly retired Durban ran the party fulfilling a balanced role as leader of the opposition. While he managed to work well with Santiago he was extremely vocal in his opposition to Clark, no doubt aware of the unsavoury connections the new President had.

During the Civil War Clark ordered Durban arrested shortly after Martial Law was declared. Despite his age and long political service Durban still managed to evade Clarks secret service agents and leave Earth right under their noses, a reminder of his near legendary escape from Centauri space in his spy days. Durban made it to the rebel Colony of Beta Durani where he helped run a highly successful resistance movement causing massive headaches for the Loyalist garrison.

When Clark was deposed Durban returned as head of the opposition, and is widely tipped to replace Susana Luchenko as President in the forthcoming elections.

.

_Victor Chapel, Special Agent, EIA_

A key Agent and vital organiser during the war, Chapel succeeded Durban as Director of the EIA in the 2230's. He served in this position for a decade and was due to step down when the Minbari war postponed his plans. Chapel energetically masterminded operations against the Minbari, weaving a tapestry of deception about humanity and its capabilities that the Minbari never saw through until right at the end. His deceptions are cited as one reason why the Minbari were so slow and cautious during their advance into EA space.

While Earth never successfully broke into Minbari computers, the did manage to break their communication codes and the EIA were able to accurately predict where the Minbari would hit next, allowing local forces to prepare themselves as best they could. When the war ended Chapel finally managed to retire honourably, making way for Terry Saunders to take over.

Chapel pursued his own agenda until the Civil War where he was marked as a threat to the administration and was targeted for assassination. After foiling several attempts he escaped to Beta Durani and joined his old friends in countering Clark. Towards the end of the war when Sheridan move don the inner worlds Chapel learned his long lost daughter was being held on Mars in a deep prison facility. Even with his advancing years he insisted on joining the mission, and came face to face with the man who had taken his child so many years ago.

Chapel killed the Psi Cop, but was himself mortally wounded and died soon after.

His daughter, Isabel Chapel, is current Director of the Psi Corps replacement, the TRA.

_Jennifer Sakai, Field Agent, EIA_

After retiring from the EIA Jenny assumed Captaincy of the commercial freighter Space Race. She served in this role for many years, often working with her friends in the EIA and Alfredo Garibaldi to investigate and act against threats to Earth. During this time she showed her niece, Catherine Sakai, and her son Alfredo Calendar the fine art of piloting a civilian starship successfully, as well as some of the more subtle skills she had learned with the EIA.

During the war she returned to EIA service and used the Space Race with its speed, range and several pieces of 'acquired' League tech to run Minbari blockades and support resistance movements on fallen worlds. During this time she became good friends with William Hague, often operating alongside his deep range raiders.

Her final assignment was running a mission to Proxima, a mission Alfredo Garibaldi joined her on. She was stranded on the planet and remained there until the war ended.

After the war Jenny once more retired from the EIA and resumed her career in the Belt Alliance. In time her son became a successful Captain in his own right and she actively considered turning the business over to him. However all that changed with the disappearance of her niece Catherine. She worked with Jeffrey Sinclair to try and find Catherine but to no avail, though during this time she became aware of the Rangers and their mission.

During the Shadow war she helped train Rangers under Sinclair's request, educating them in the art of espionage and surveillance. Her son eventually joined the Rangers and was selected to command a Whitestar, a role he fulfilled exceptionally for the duration of the war.

Later Jenny was recalled to help her old boss Durban on Beta Durani opposing Clark, a role she proved well suited for moving between resistance groups without detection and delivering vital messages. She helped Vic Chapel rescue his daughter and brought his body home for burial afterwards.

Jenny remains a primary teacher of Rangers and master of the Anla'shok espionage school.

_Francis O'Leary, Analyst, EIA_

Following his impressive display of natural skill Francis was quickly given greater responsibilities within the EIA code breaking section, heading up the secretive 'Enigma' Section within the EIA. He married his fiancée Heather Laney in 2235 and had two children by the start of the Minbari war.

During this period he became Director of the Code breaking and interpretation department of the EIA and was instrumental in breaking Minbari codes and providing early warning for EA colonies and forces in the path of an attack. His actions saved countless lives, and it was he who discovered the Minbari were planning to hit Earth directly at the end of the war.

Francis was made a Deputy Director soon after and was given responsibility for outer EA territories, running all aspects of intelligence work within those colonies. This later came to include Babylon 5, which became a particular test of his energy.

During this time Francis had maintained cordial relations with his old Colleague Morgan Clark, and so when the Civil War came Francis found himself courted by Clark and promoted to full Assistant Director.

Seeing Clark for what he truly was, Francis accepted the position of responsibility and began actively working against him, feeding information to Hague and B5 whenever he could. Even during the dark days he risked much to combat Clark, sending his wife and children to Minbar with his old friend Jenny Sakai to keep them safe from reprisals as Psi Corps slowly close din on him.

In the final stages of the war Francis successfully shorted out the planetary based nuclear missiles on Earth, preventing them from being used against Sheridan in orbit. After the war he was made full Director of the EIA and served Luchenko in that role during the Telepath crisis, a time which proved to be his most severe test.

Director O'Leary is currently tipped to become the new ISA head of Intelligence, bringing decades of experience to the post.

_The Space Race_

Unassuming to look at, the little freighter always seemed to show up at the wrong place in the right time. It continued to be upgraded between wars serving the EIA from time to time under its faithful crew. During the Minbari war it ran rings around the Minbari, surviving several incredibly scrapes with vastly superior forces and always coming home.

The ship ran a mission to Proxima towards the end of the war before being recalled half way through along with the rest of the Belt Alliance armed forces. The Space Race was forced to abandon Jenny on the surface and joined its sisters at the Battle of the Line. The ship was last seen ramming a Tinashi class War Frigate, its bays loaded with nukes.

After the war a new ship, the Space Race II was purchased by Jenny Sakai and was similarly modified. Unlike its predecessor this ship was atmosphere capable providing it with a significant advantage on assignments. The ship served both the EIA and the Rangers performing courier operations under its new crew. The ship continues to serve as the private transport of Dominic and Everil O'Leary, children of EIA Director Francis O'Leary.

Aliens

_Stro'kath, Warleader of the Drazi_

A warrior of the elder days, seen by his followers as a hero who had stepped from the pages of a book, Stro'kath was the greatest hero of the Drazi people and praised as a visionary after the war. His people had suffered greatly, and Stro'kath focused all his energies on rebuilding his nation. He worked closely with Earth to help the reconstruction, rebuilding colonies and seizing a pair of former Dilgar worlds on the border. He was apparently sad to see the Dilgar race die, lamenting the passing of a race with 'Such warrior potential.' Throughout his days he repeatedly praised his battles with Warmaster Dar'sen, pointing out that honourable warriors existed outside the Freehold as well as within it.

Stro'kath was the undisputed leader of the Drazi, proven in battle and practical in politics he was extremely successful in rebuilding his empire. The level of respect he had could not be over estimated. When the Minbari attacked Earth he at once prepared a major fleet to go and help his allies, even in the face of a dire Minbari warning. The Drazi assault force set course for Earth, entered hyperspace, and was never seen again.

With the loss of so many ships Stro'kath found he could not aid Earth further. He provided plans for super Particle Cannons which eventually entered EA service, but could physically do no more, something which caused immense shame to the proud warrior.

After the war Stro'kath again faced reconstruction, just in time for a series of bitter actions as the Centauri expanded into Drazi space after the War of Retribution. When it was revealed this was all a ploy of the Shadows Stro'kath at once pledged the full might of the Drazi to Sheridan's aide, after personally beating the numerous opponents to his policy.

Seeing the immensity of the challenge the ancient warrior chose to lead his people into battle one last time. Few among the Drazi believed they could win, and Stro'kath decided he had to lead by example. Tragically he was killed in action at the Battle of Sector 83.

The Drazi however did not mourn him, celebrating the fact so old a soldier still managed to find a good death in battle. His example served to galvanise the Drazi into fully supporting Sheridan and the ISA charter, though sadly Stro'kath's successors did not have the old soldiers integrity.

Stro'kath remains the epitome of all that is best in the Drazi, and is honoured to this day.

_Limak Brocat, Brakiri Minister._

A wily politician and legendary businessman, Brocat correctly gauged the threat of the Dilgar and gained immense credibility when his predictions proved true. Calm and cool in all situations he achieved a leading place in the Krona and actively pushed for an alliance with Earth.

As CEO of Ak Habil, the largest ship builder in the League, he made a fortune during the rebuilding process selling freighters across the galaxy to replace lost ships and churning out Avioki cruisers for the military. By the time of the Minbari war he was Chief of State and answered Earth's call for help.

However before he could deploy ships a battlegroup of Minbari cruisers jumped beneath the Brakiri defence grid and locked their guns on the capital, warning the Brakiri that any who stood with Earth would share their fate. Brocat knew that his world was still teetering on disaster, that the Dilgar bombardment had pushed his ecosystem to breaking point and even a moderate attack would make Brakir uninhabitable. He was also aware that the Drazi had lost a serious chunk of their navy after ignoring a similar warning.

In one of the more controversial decisions in history, he stood down and offered no further help to the Earth Alliance, something which earned him a bad reputation among humans.

Brocat resigned from government after the war and focused on his corporation, waging a bitter war of industrial espionage against his rivals. He supported the Shadow war, and this time when he warned against the threat to Brakir society everybody listened, remembering his prophecy against the Dilgar

Brocat was assassinated soon after by mercenaries believed to be working for a rival company. It later became apparent this company was under the influence of the Shadows. However his death merely proved his points, and the Brakiri united and joined Sheridan's forces fully.

_Jha'dur, Deathwalker, Warmaster of the Dilgar Imperium._

The most enigmatic figure of the war, Jha'dur was presumed killed by the EAS Nemesis at the battle of Balos. However no remains or traces of her body were found on her ship, though communication records showed she had been there as it was destroyed. The EIA was forced to leave her file open ended and for several years tried to find her.

During this time EA and League ships located and destroyed several Dilgar hidden colonies and sleeper fleets, moving survivors to Omelos until the sun unexpectedly exploded. Seeming to draw a line under the Dilgar race, further searches were abandoned with Jha'dur written off as dead somewhere on the planet in hiding.

Later evidence showed she had been taken by the Minbari Windsword clan as a form of trophy or prize as well as a source of information about the outside galaxy. In time her cunning allowed her to gain the confidence of several senior warriors and live a comfortable life among them.

While her efforts to aide the Minbari were rebuffed in disgust, she retained a position of influence and after the war began to travel under an alias. During this time she was believed to have visited Omelos. Jha'dur was largely believed to be part of the Windsword plot to kill Kosh and spark an Earth Vorlon war as the neuro toxin given to Kosh had her traditional hallmarks of being a slow acting intensely torturous compound. It is also believed the toxin was slow acting to see if Earth could find a way to beat it, proving itself worthy of her future attentions.

She abandoned Minbari space in 2258 after perfecting her immortality serum, leaving several dead warriors in her wake as final subjects of her research. She is believed to have visited the Markab homeworld before arriving on B5, deploying one of her weapons there that mimicked the mythical Drafa Plague. While unconfirmed Jha'dur had long harboured a special hatred for the Markab after they killed her brother, and the timing of her re-emergence and the first cases of the plague are too close to be coincidence.

Jha'dur was believed killed by the Vorlons after leaving B5, however several anomalies and mysteries remain surrounding the circumstances of her death including some unusual readings from recovered biomass.

While she is believed dead, perhaps most tellingly the EIA has not closed her case file. As long as it remains open this Spectre of the past will not be put to final rest.


End file.
